When an artist embarks on a solo career, having previously established themselves as part of a group, a strange thing happens – the element which synthesises all the participants’ input and creates their amalgamated ‘sound’ disappears, leaving a lone contributor, freewheeling in a direction that may take them on a slidey slope of tunnel vision, leading to a narrowly themed, self-indulgent result. The only exception to this unfortunate rule is when an artist is a strong enough performer and an independent creative force in their own right, as well as being sufficiently capable of keeping the reigns on their own predispositions. This, thankfully, is ADAM GREEN.
Having spent most of his adolescence playing music and then forming the Moldy Peaches with Kimya Dawson, Green is an old hand at fronting a show. His solo career has been going on and off since 2002 and he has managed to establish and gather a solid group of musicians to work with. Amongst others, playing with him on Sixes and Sevens, his album released in March with Rough Trade, are Moldy Peaches bassist Steven Mertens, keyboardist Nathan Brown, and drummer parker kindred. The album is produced by Dan Myers and arranged by David Campbell whose hand is in a diverse array of projects - from Beck and Cat Power, to Leonard Cohen.
Adam’s presence on stage is mesmerising – not through an elaborate stage act, he is just comfortable up there. His music is not trendy or cool – but is that perhaps what makes it trendy and cool? It varies from big band to smooth jazz and a quirky Gruff Rhys twist, and never ever boring. The lyrics are always on the provocative side and make Green impossible not to like – there is no pretension here, it seems, it’s all him. He’s constantly on the verge of becoming the crooner, but not quite – sort of floating halfway between rock’n’roll lackadaisical lout and the lounge singer.
|
The gig (or “concert” as is tempting to call it) is long and deliberate. Adam takes his time. He’s got a horn section, he’s got backing vocalists off a Brooklyn church choir and he’s got your attention. His conversing with the crowd and horsing around reduces the huge multi-levelled Koko to an intimate and slightly seedy bar.
Green’s voice is effortless and warm, there can be no disputing that, yet the impression remains one of – ‘if only he tried harder… ‘, and of being on the cusp of something truly exciting. But he never quite fulfils. Is it possible that ease and confidence through years of experience and critical success could cause complacency?
Going through his new album, including his recent release Morning After Midnight and throwing in a couple of older acoustic favourites for good measure, including No Legs and Emily, Green ends the evening with a Cream cover of Spoonful as an encore. The songs are all terrific, and he’s just a pleasure to listen to. The overall effect still remains a frustrating ‘nearly… but not quite’.
|
