Andrew McMahon (Bush Hall, 23.5.17)
The show must go on, or so I'm told. I headed to Andrew McMahon's show at Bush Hall on Tuesday night, still gutpunched from the night before. He addressed the elephant in the room early doors, speaking of live music as one of the things dearest to us and emphasising that we will not be cowed. Hear hear.
This was largely the same format as his previous two London shows, a sort of "Evening With..." vibe with McMahon behind a Baby Grand. On this occasion, he brought band member Zac Clark with him (a man with a kind of "hippie era John Lennon" thing going on) to provide some instrumental depth via keyboards and more implausibly, an accordion. In a moment of candour, he conceded that money issues had dictated this form of touring in the UK but that we could expect a full band return in the future.
I was lukewarm towards McMahon's new record "Zombies On Broadway" earlier in the year and he sensibly kept the recent material to a minimum, although "Fire Escape" is a great song however he plays it and "Walking In My Sleep" was given an almost gospel feel in a stripped back performance that improved on the studio incarnation. But as before, we're treated to a plethora of tracks from across McMahon's back catalogue. "I Want To Save You" is preceded by an anecdote about touring and living with New Found Glory (to my delight, as long standing readers of this blog will appreciate). As someone who never had the opportunity to see Something Corporate live, I'm also chuffed to get a rendition of "21 And Invincible" off their oft neglected second record, which harkens back to a simpler time before the world crushed my spirit.
McMahon is a charming, self-effacing stage presence, so much so that I forgive him the indulgence of singing "Swim" over Facetime to a member of the audience's girlfriend who rang him mid gig. He fluffs his lines twice at the start of "Holiday From Real" and sings the remainder like a man desperately trying to suppress the giggles. But there's so much warmth in the room that no-one really minds. We depart with a superb rendition of "Cecilia And The Satellite", an ode to McMahon's young daughter. It's a joyous, life affirming moment at the end of an emotional evening.
This was largely the same format as his previous two London shows, a sort of "Evening With..." vibe with McMahon behind a Baby Grand. On this occasion, he brought band member Zac Clark with him (a man with a kind of "hippie era John Lennon" thing going on) to provide some instrumental depth via keyboards and more implausibly, an accordion. In a moment of candour, he conceded that money issues had dictated this form of touring in the UK but that we could expect a full band return in the future.
I was lukewarm towards McMahon's new record "Zombies On Broadway" earlier in the year and he sensibly kept the recent material to a minimum, although "Fire Escape" is a great song however he plays it and "Walking In My Sleep" was given an almost gospel feel in a stripped back performance that improved on the studio incarnation. But as before, we're treated to a plethora of tracks from across McMahon's back catalogue. "I Want To Save You" is preceded by an anecdote about touring and living with New Found Glory (to my delight, as long standing readers of this blog will appreciate). As someone who never had the opportunity to see Something Corporate live, I'm also chuffed to get a rendition of "21 And Invincible" off their oft neglected second record, which harkens back to a simpler time before the world crushed my spirit.
McMahon is a charming, self-effacing stage presence, so much so that I forgive him the indulgence of singing "Swim" over Facetime to a member of the audience's girlfriend who rang him mid gig. He fluffs his lines twice at the start of "Holiday From Real" and sings the remainder like a man desperately trying to suppress the giggles. But there's so much warmth in the room that no-one really minds. We depart with a superb rendition of "Cecilia And The Satellite", an ode to McMahon's young daughter. It's a joyous, life affirming moment at the end of an emotional evening.
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