Wednesday, the relocated should-have-been-in-Fibbers James Yorkston gig. I've never liked Fibbers all that much but I really like Yorkston and seeing as he chose a no_Cubs Wednesday it'd have been rude not to. Then I'd had an email telling me it was going to be in the New Fibbers, and then another with the even better news that it had moved to the Fulford Arms. Although I hadn't been there before I'd heard good things, and the good things were true. Plus they have decent beer, and sensible-for-York prices - although with it being a school night I stuck to the lime and soda. Turned up proper early at doors, as it is a much smaller venue and we thought it might get busy so won a tall table with bar stools, convenient for the bar and with a good view even for shortarses.
First support - some chap in a hat with a shonky fake accent. Deano commented (most discreetly, since it was clear that half the people in venue knew him) that the hat was the most interesting thing on stage. I pointed out that was unfair, since the double bass resting in a corner clearly had real charisma. He started promptly at 8 and I checked my phone at one point to discover that he'd actually only been going for 17 minutes. It felt rather more. I really don't like people talking through gigs, but this time was almost wishing they'd talk up a little as the conversations seemed like they might be more interesting.
Second support - Boss Caine, the second time I've actually caught a full supporting set from York's hardest working gigging musician. No hat, but another fake accent although he does it much better and what's more some of his songs are actually pretty bloody good. I shouldn't like him at all as there are a number of my instant turn offs (like the accent) in the mix, but somehow I kind of do. Plus he got the sympathy vote for having discharged himself from hospital and borrowed a guitar from a friendly music shop owner he bumped into en route from hossie to venue in order to get to the gig. First support chap and his noisy friends talked throughout and therefore lost him his one remaining 'at least he tried and his voice (if not his guitar) was in tune' point.
Hoping for Yorkston next, but no...
Third support - another chap with a guitar. Ok, wish me luck... but we have to stay put, we've guarded out seats for the best part of 2 hours and if we go then we'll lose 'em and probably have to stand for Yorkston. We're committed now... however, this chap-with-a-guitar turns out to be Adam Ross of Randolph's Leap. What's this? A Proper Accent? And what's more, that's the accent he sings in? Sneakily getting everyone to actually shut up and stop talking with comic passive aggression and a touch of manipulation? A "sympathy story" that he apologised couldn't possibly compare with Boss Caine's but meant that he was nervous about barre chords due to a TOASTED MARSHMALLOW injury? Spinach-induced-farting-Yorkston-on tour jokes? I liked him. And his songs.
Then Yorkston, and a double-bass player whose name I didn't catch apart from John. A long set with, as he promised, no encore. Some of the old stuff including a stonking version of Sweet Jesus, some of the new stuff which went down well with me. A rambling spoken to music anecdote lasting a good 15 minutes about a visit to the Antiques Roadshow that trod judiciously the fine line between humour and taking the piss out of how much a Terribly Polite York audience will go along with you. Self-described 'most miserable banter at a gig, ever!' including stories of dead dogs and poisoned rats. And a cover of A Little Respect, which is apparently one of his standards. The reworking raised a plenty of laughs, as is I am sure the intention. And then I remembered the last time I heard it covered, by the incomparable Whyte Fyre, a band mostly comprised of teachers-wot-I-know, in the Edinburgh Arms (in the company of forumites as a post-Kate Rusby-after-gig) with vocals by the chap who taught the EldestCub in reception (apart from the high notes, which were provided by the bassist) and realised I'll not see their guitarist, Pete, laughing his head off at Andy's singing that one again since Pete very sadly died in March, and I had a bit of a quiet moment. So there you go - James Yorkston, moving the audience almost to tears with Erasure covers.
I really wanted to go see him again, if only to find out how different the improvisations might be, but the Nottingham/Sheffield gigs were totally un-doable travelwise. Heartily recommended.
ETA
Googlage tells me the bassist was
Jon Thorne. Who I've
reviewed before!
