Last night I lured Webby away from his all-salad diet to go and the see the Divine Comedy - aka Neil Hannon - play a solo piano-only set in a tiny room above a pub. As I saw him at a full Roundhouse a couple of years ago I assume this was a one-off for The Word magazine rather than a sad indictment of his declining commercial fortunes.
It was ruddy brilliant, of course. We arrived to catch the end of Lulu and the Lampshades, who we sneered and leered at complacently until they played an amazing tribal song on borrowed beer glasses that shut us right up. A totally trolleyed Mark Radcliffe turned up for no particular reason to make a few gags about the Red Hot Chilli Peppers ("Ishn't their shinger called Anthony.....PENISH? Haaargh!") and then Hannon was wheeled on to be enragingly talented and amusing.
We timed our now traditional late gig charge from the bar to the front of the crowd - premiered earlier in the year at a Luke Haines gig when we skanked like crazy to Baader Meinhoff while dozens of dangerous loners scowled at us from beneath greasy fringes - in time to catch the excellent cover of Don't You Want Me which ended the show. I then disgraced myself by fawning over an esteemed music journalist who just wanted to talk about how good the Divine Comedy were and didn't enjoy my creepy man love, born of years of reading Q and suchlike.
Anyway, this was outstanding:
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