Where was I? Oh yes, the banter. To those of you unfamiliar with the ways of the Glaswegian, the banter is the relentless rambling of the soap dodging weegie that induces confusion, and often fear, into the minds of those born outside the nine square miles of God’s chosen city and, in God’s chosen city tonight, there was not only banter but also Rocky Votolato, Turtle Lamone and Chrissy Barnacle.
Taking the between song banter to a new level was Chrissy Barnacle. She sang her songs in a voice that was both plaintive and girlish yet her banter, if my own ears were to be believed, reflected on how Satan made her sleep with her lecturer and how rats, in the name of love, would eat the last two people alive on a cruise ship. All this suggests that her moon was not the same one that the rest of us see and, perhaps, she is the witch she claims to be. She certainly cast a spell on me.
Rather more conventional was Turtle Lamone. With a strained Billy Bragg style vocal motivated by east coast introspection, he pummelled his keyboard and power chorded his guitar in an attempt to lift his songs from the shadows although it took until his last song before he found the match that would light the candle of inspiration.
Benefitting from six weeks of doing his thing on stage, Rocky Votolato demonstrated that he had more of the soul of a city boy than the evidence of his EP “Sawdust & Shavings” would have suggested. A distinctly polished performer, he executed the Americana tales of the aforementioned EP with precision yet his star sparkled brightest when he picked up the tempo and threw his songs far out into the audience and, despite being from Seattle, he also proved himself a contender in the banter stakes with a witty tale of incest prevention in Iceland.
His banter would, in normal circumstances, have taken the Thorazine prize but not tonight as hometown Chrissy was inevitably going to be crowned queen. As Zebedee once said, now it's time for bed.