Jamie Lidell may hail from Cambridgeshire, but he acts like he’s from Detroit. At first glance, this unassuming, slightly nerdy Englishman doesn’t seem like a natural soul man, but this long-awaited show at the Shepherd’s Bush Empire proves that he’s no anaemic pastiche. His roots are with electronic music, although for the most part you wouldn’t be able to tell- the overwhelming air of the show is one of nostalgia, a harkening back to the soul-fuelled gospel-tinged days of Stax and Motown. Bass excepted, there’s not a guitar to be seen and apart from the electronics deck that seems to take up half the stage, you could well be forgiven for thinking you’re watching a soul tribute revue.
Whilst his band is bedecked in outlandish attire- the bearded saxophonist dressed like a 1970’s Eurovision reject; the bassist clad in Las Vegas-era Elvis gear- Lidell goes for the unfussy geek-chic look, all ruffled blazers, nerdy glasses and five-o’-clock shadow. An old-school showman of the Rat Pack variety, he’s a consummate performer-perching on the stage for the ballads, strutting by the barrier for the crowd-pleasers, handing the mic over the audience members…all very cliché, but yet so satisfying. His voice may lack show-stopping force, but a certain roughness round the edges lends his croon an authentically soulful vibe and his excellent band (including a guy who played two saxophones at the same time) do a fine job in delivering the brassy, punchy instrumentation the songs deserve.
For an act steeped in affection for the past though, it’s slightly odd that Jamie only affords the smallest nod to his own. His original live shows involved him recording several layers of vocals using a loop pedal, adding a backing beat and singing over them, but this technique is only invoked once during the set. It’s an interesting technique and shows an invention perhaps lacking from much of his other material, but isolated in the middle of the set it inevitably jars. But it’s a small quibble. Getting an London audience on a Sunday night to engage in a communal singalong is a minor miracle, but Lidell manages to do it on several occasions and being versed in the way of showmanship he leaves the best ‘til last- a rousing rendition of big hitter ‘Multiply’. One may query the ostensible lack of substance, but there’s no denying the guys got style.
Supports Fujiya and Miyagi also deserve a quick mention- I was slightly underwhelmed by their headline show at Bush Hall earlier this year, but they really seemed to find their groove this time round. They’ve got the air of a Parisien dance act (their bassist looks a bit like Jean Reno), with their hushed, sardonic vocal delivery and funkier-than-thou basslines, but they actually hail from the less exotic environs of Brighton. The lyrics aren’t exactly Dylan- “Vanilla, Strawberry, Knickerbocker Glory” won’t ever worry the Novello Prize judges- but they add a tongue-in-cheek levity that doesn’t always come across in their otherwise straight-laced performance.
(Photo: Kemizzdotcom (Flickr))
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