I’d like to say that it was blue skies that drove me here but, let’s be honest, there are no blue skies at this time of year in Aberdeen. So it had to be the promise of strong drink and maybe a side order of Jo Mango. She’s one of my five a day and I know that because I shop at Sainsbury’s.
Support acts often fail to distract the audience from the main attraction but even the most cynical of academics would have to admit that the statistical probability of gravitational attraction to Jaimie Wren was greatly enhanced by her performance tonight. Considerably more muscular, and I mean that in reference to her combined ability to carry a tune and bear the weight of emotion, than your average singer songwriter, she grasped the opportunity to go large and express – oh! – her desire to own and effectively resell all that is the big ballad.
Will Leatherbarrow had the acoustic guitar and the nearly complete beard that would normally suggest sensitivity and intense, parallel, wearing of the ironic cardigan. Fortunately, however Oor Willie had acquired some sincerity and no small amount of positive energy to enlighten and convince the audience of his right to be on stage. Points were duly scored and kick drum reinforced and all I can say is that I hope he does not migrate to Edinburgh and make the acquaintance of fiddle players.
Onwards to the worship of Jo Mango. Whilst suffering an ailment of the voice, she nonetheless availed herself of every opportunity to entrance an audience enslaved as if a mere pin drop would send them to hell or Montrose. Extracts from her new album “Murmuration” were hardly unexpected and duly “The Black Sun” and “Ludwig” worked their magic until the cast spell evolved into applause. Any artist who has the courage to apologise for running on three cylinders must be something special so I shall say Jo Mango, Jo Mango, Jo Mango. She’s once, twice, three times a lady.