Don McLean at the London Palladium, last night.
In the '70s, McLean was a consummate solo performer, competent on guitar and banjo and with an easy-going dialogue with hits audience.
Now he isn't. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that this was the worst gig by a major artist that I've attended since I endured Genesis at Wembley Arena in 1981. And that's saying something.
The first problem last night was that instead of the solo performer, we had Mclean on guitar plus a 5-piece backing band (2 guitars, bass and keyboards). If you listen to McLean's solo performances, one of the enduring qualities is the fluidity in his guitar accompaniments and the way his vocals often slip in and out of the rhythm without ever being out of time. Last night every song seemed to be accompanied in workmanlike 4/4, apart from the keyboards, which often sounded to be several beats behind the band and several bars before the singer.
Second problem: the sound. Overamplified for a venue with good acoustics and harshly mixed, so that the bass was lost completely in a cacophony of strained vocals and trebly guitar. It was actually physically painful to hear and I soon worked out that everything sounded much better if I put my fingers in my ears, at which point the harshness was alleviated and the vocals actually sounded OK. Even when we were leaving (see below) it could still be heard in the theatre lobby and sounded just as bad.
Third problem: The material. McLean is billed as a "legendary singer-songwriter" and, if you like his style, he has written more than enough good songs over the years to fill an evening. Last night, we had a self-indulgent parade of mediocre covers and third-rate compositions, interspersed with only the occasional worthwhile piece. It was rather like listening to an average house band in a Nashville bar. By 10.15, a fair number of the audience members had left and we had stood up to join them when he launched into American Pie. At this point, most of the audience stood up (in relief, perhaps) and it became impossible to leave our seats. Never my favourite of his songs, we endured the 10 minutes or so that it lasted (extended by a pointless guitar solo) only for him to start the damn thing again! Happily, that was for just a couple of verses and we were able to escape as he lurched into another cover version.
I don't know for how much longer he carried on; we were just glad to be out and into the comparative quiet of Oxford Street!
Luckily I still have my recording of his solo shows to remind me of the good old days and, hopefully, the memory of this one can be buried, very very deep.
