GIG REVIEW

Graham Coxon, with Duels and One Reunion Sq.
Manchester Ritz, Monday 28th March 2006

It’s always the quiet ones that surprise you in the end. Shy, retiring, NHS specs-wearing Graham Coxon, formerly second fiddle lead guitar in Blur, has only thrown his glasses to the floor (quite literally, twice) and become a punk rocker! Who’d have known that the dark edgy sounds the Britpop wonders delved into in their later albums was this man’s influence? Well, anyone who’s listened to his two solo albums since he quit, I’d imagine, but I have to confess I wasn’t one of those people.

First of all, it has to be said, the Ritz is an amazing venue. Known best for its spring loaded dancefloor (perfect for disco dancing) the acoustics were crystal clear, you could actually see the sounds being made before your eyes, which sounds silly but doesn’t happen very often in gigland. The balcony brought a touch of OC style Bait-shop casuality, and the chilled out, comfortable atmosphere suited nicely.

Graham’s bass player opened on acoustic guitar, trading as One Reunion Square, and wasn’t that bad. Some nice songs, good guitar-man-ship, but you know how it is with support bands, no one else was paying attention, and he didn’t do much to grab mine.

Duels were on second, and were, quite frankly, excellent. Quite unsubtle hints of Pulp, epic pop almost like The Dears except less Britpop influenced than Britpop evolved. Nice sharp suits and a nice strong drummer (in many senses of the phrase). Armed with an album sampler on sale for a quid and a free badge if you signed up for the mailing list, I can now call myself a Duels fan. Would happily go see them headline. Watch out for the singles and the choruses though, not as good as the other songs or the verses respectively.

Mr Coxon himself, well… There were all the ‘Bittersweet bundles of misery’ that you’d expect from the author of Coffee & TV – nice, lovely, boppy, summer songs to go with his nice, lovely album all about love. However, it was the 1976 punk that got me listening – that dancefloor isn’t all that bad for moshing on either as it turns out. The Clash-esque obscurist cd tracks inbetween bands were starting to make a little bit more sense as you began to wonder whether it was Graham’s own record collection they chose from. The closing song, not Freakin’ Out, or Standing on my Own Again, (fine pop songs though they are) but a visceral, pumping shout-out about how much life sucks and then you die, with squealing, choppy guitars and crowd-surfing goths. And to end it all, a cheeky smile, glasses back on and a shy nod goodbye.

brought to you by your roving rocking reporter, Rachel (who loves alliteration and shall be bringing more gig reviews, comics judgements and the occasional rant, forthwith)