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Rating: He arrives on stage and it’s already a show, Graham.
With those thick glasses, that shy and awkward demeanor; he hardly ever looks at the audience, Graham, stumbles over effects, bumps into the microphone stand, almost drops his glasses; then he awkwardly ticks away, some grimaces (but is it shyness or some heavy drug?!), you almost think: "what's he doing there?" You can't help but smile amusingly seeing him so out of place, he seems more like a Citybank employee rather than a cult solo ex-rockstar.
Then he starts playing: the wall of sound that stuns the Flog is not that of Blur's pop, you immediately sense it; nor do the latest experimental glories of "13" resemble it much, and when Graham also starts singing you realize that the musical language he uses is not very English anymore; here the tradition is that of J. Mascis and the Pavement, and also a bit Jon Spencer; American Indie Rock in abundance, with that off-key voice, but those kinds of off-keys that don't disturb, more an attitude than a mistake, narcoleptic and lazy, and so full of "Slacker" charm. Not that our guy has completely forgotten the land of Albion and the mod ways of old; that somewhat naive somewhat shrewd air, with those guitar touches that cannot avoid a certain finesse, are undeniably English. However, the best tracks of the concert are those closest to the stars and stripes Rock. They are the noisy yet concise and structurally elusive ones from the first solo album "The Sky is Too High", which was born as a divertissement, and consequently was spontaneous and unpretentious. "That's All I wanna Do" and "A Day is Far Too Long" enchant with an irregular structure, large dynamic shifts, raw and acidic sound, yet never forgetting a vocal melody that continuously reappears among sequences of feedback and distortion sound walls.
When Coxon references his next two albums, "The Golden D" and "Crow Sit on The Blood Tree", however, he is less successful, too often mired in bulk noise with little personality; but ours has always been a rather varied songwriter; so "Escape Song" and the pop/noise finale of "Freakin'Out" return to stir emotions, proving that the approach to pop of the last two of his five albums was not just a banal return to the origins (of Blur). In the end, Coxon is a more than pleasant character; one of those authors who are not often cited or hyped by the press, yet can honestly deliver decent records and, especially in this case, more than enjoyable shows.
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