Home → Reviews → Ron Sexsmith
Ron Sexsmith - Carling Apollo, Hammersmith on 12 March 2003
Last night in London, Ron traded in his usual status as headliner to play a marvellous but short set as support act for Aimee Mann at the cavernous, old style cinema-like and very red Carling Apollo, formerly known as the Hammersmith Odeon. He faced what surely must be a daunting task for any act, coming out to numerous unfilled seats, with the rest filled with people who probably had not heard of him and might not be the least bit bothered by this person killing their time until the artist they paid to see took the stage. Bizarrely considering the circumstances, he came across as more confident than ever, sang more boldly and strongly than I have ever heard, and managed to draw anyone who could overhear him from the bar into the auditorium after just a song or two, so he was no longer faced with the constant milling about of seat-hunters and ushers, to which support acts are normally subjected. Not long into his set, the initially impassive audience was whistling and hooting, and if encores were permitted for support acts, he would have had two. Instead, we had to be left longing for more.
Just after 8pm, a lonesome looking Ron wandered out onto the huge stage to the central mike, wearing his usual grey suit tightly buttoned all up his front with a lighter shirt than usual and his longish wavy locks falling either side of that famously cherubic face. He looked 12 and must have made the members of the audience who were unfamiliar with him wonder what sort of amateur performance they were about to hear. He soon set them straight and won them over.
Quite chummily, he muttered into the mike, ‘I don’t know if you know who I am—--I’m Ron. How are you doing?’ So we were on first name terms already, how friendly. With only his acoustic guitar for accompaniment, compared to the full electric band I saw him with at the Marquee in December, he quickly launched into his delicate first song, FOR A MOMENT, from his latest album Cobblestone Runway. The voice belting out of the substantial stacks of speakers either side of the stage was clear, confident and absolutely lovely. That same voice casually strolled through the high gentle owl parts (‘hooo-hoo-ooo’) near the end as he dished out his usual tales of unfaltering optimism and faith in the face of darkness. It was an interesting choice of opening song, a wise one. He stood strong, feet apart, and delivered a rendition of the song that even topped the one on the album and left the audience clearly stunned. When he finished, he was slapped with big cheers from an audience who had clearly expected something much less professional and fascinating. When he told the audience, ‘thank you very much,’ he sounded like Elvis Presley.
He merely added ‘This is from my new record’ and began the next song, DISAPPEARING ACT. Now, I haven’t heard this track without the trademark catchy piano riff that I thought truly made the song. This just in: it actually is not the least bit necessary. I would never have thought the song could work so well on nothing but acoustic guitar, but it was still a major force to be reckoned with, as Ron busily beat so many notes out of his guitar, sometimes thumping it with the palm of his hand to keep an added flavour of rhythm in the chorus. Although the song was missing nothing, I found myself tempted to jump up and provide the Beatlesque backing vocals I was so used to hearing on this song, but fortunately for Ron and the audience, I resisted poisoning the atmosphere with my scary screeching. The song needed nothing more, in any case, which still amazes me. Somehow it was still absolutely full of sound despite being performed by a lone man and his acoustic guitar.
Ron then had to tune slightly, only for a minute or so. I noticed throughout his set that he hardly tuned his guitar at all, whereas most of the acoustic acts I see regularly, even the ones who can easily afford several guitars, spend a lot of time re-tuning them whilst we all stare at them doing so. I guess Ron’s songs are all in the same key, or maybe he chose his setlist on that basis, knowing he would only be allowed a fixed amount of time and wanting to give us the maximum possible performance. How kind.
To entertain us during this rare two-minute break, Ron asked us if we liked his shirt. Rather than unbuttoning those buttons on his jacket that remained closed as if protecting a secret, he seemed to reach down just below his throat, grab his shirt and almost pull the whole thing up for us like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat. Fortunately, he stopped there rather than lowering the tone of his performance to a striptease act. The shirt was light, possible with some sort of check thing going on; it was difficult to see in the extremely colourful yet dim lighting (Aimee Mann had a major light show going on later, and although the lights had not yet woken up and thus did not stir during Ron’s performance, he was surrounded by their still but strong colour). Ron joked that his shirt had a kind of Coronation Street thing happening, although it sounded like he didn’t quite get the name right, like he said ‘Corona Street thing’, perhaps thinking there was some magical street of beer here in England. Then it occurred to me that he couldn’t know what Coronation Street was, as he’s Canadian, unless he spent three days a week in the UK plastered to the telly at 7.30pm. ‘At least that’s what they told me,’ he explained about his shirt, which someone clearly can’t have liked much. [I was later reliably informed that, not only is Coronation Street, surprisingly, shown in Canada, but others in the audience believe he said 'Carnaby Street', which would make more sense!]
For those who, like Ron, are unfamiliar with it, I’ll explain that said show is a soap, but not like any in the States. When I first moved here, I couldn’t believe how ridiculous, light-hearted and blatantly silly it was, but persisted with it as my English then-husband raved about the quality of the acting and how millions of people had followed it since its black and white days in the 60s. It’s a bit dreary and takes place on a working class street in the north, full of comic and irritating characters, although recently it’s been a bit more interesting as there was a sinister serial killer in their midst whom everyone trusted. I guess someone meant that Ron’s shirt was a bit naff or a bit Northern working class, and it was sweet of him to share that observation with us, when he had no idea what it meant but clearly suspected it was not high praise.
That fascinating foray into down-home British culture took us into the stunning FORMER GLORY, the first feat of beauty on his new album. I assume everyone, even the initial doubters, has adjusted to Ron’s album by now. I remember some people on the list and some of my own friends (I kept them anyway) feeling unsure of the album when they first heard it, with its many layers and effects--—which incidentally everyone is doing nowadays (listen to Peter Gabriel’s and Elvis Costello’s new albums, which are both vastly inferior, in my opinion). Having heard these three songs from Cobblestone Runway, before we even got to two of the more obvious stunners, Gold in Them Hills and God Loves Everyone, reminded me that it truly is a smashing album full of brilliantly written songs that transcend what anyone else is writing these days either lyrically or musically.
Here again was a fabulous song prompting a sagging soul to hang in there. Ron is so full of comforting optimism; he somehow convinces the listener with ease that things really will improve, miracles really do wait around the corner, when normally optimists can be dismissed instantly by us pessimists as being naïve and, frankly, completely wrong. This amazing talent for summing up exactly what we all need to hear in the darkest of times is what made me choose as the signature that goes out on all my e-mail messages a particular quote from April After All, which I easily relate to after surprising myself by surviving a truly challenging time a few years ago. Everyone I know is probably tired of it, but I do still get messages from strangers who feel inspired by it and ask me more about Ron, and I recommend albums to explore.
This night’s performance of Former Glory outdid anything I expected, despite my high expectations. His stunning, clear vocals simply floated through the air over the perhaps 3,000 people already in their seats, his words seemingly melting from one line to another, permeating the room and warming it for us all. During the brief guitar solo, Ron clearly had a lot of fun, raising the guitar neck up high as though pointing to the (fortunately unused at this stage) disco mirror ball above him, studying his guitar as he picked out some magic. After this almost soothing performance delving out almost avuncular advice to anyone with any worries, I could not wait to hear the reaction of the audience, conscious that many of them would never have heard Ron before. They erupted in such enthusiastic cheers they almost sounded raucous. It must have warmed Ron’s heart and he seemed to relax even more, although as I said, his delivery was amazingly confident throughout. I don’t think I have heard his voice in better form ever. He never eeked a single squeek, he never missed a high note or skipped a low note. He was a smooth crooner that melted us all away.
Deciding to leave Cobblestone Runway—--and incidentally, I saw no sign of a set list, nor did he pause to wonder, so I guess he has a wonderful memory-----he casually mentioned that he had ‘made a bunch of other records and here are a few songs from some old ones…...’ With that introduction, he made the shift from his hold-yourself-up songs to his sad social commentary genre that tempts so many envious artists to borrow his words in covers, and played the captivating CHEAP HOTEL. In a mere two minutes, he painted a crushing picture of a wife trying to escape an abusive husband with her children. As the brilliant words ‘One thing’s for certain/Thy will be done/On earth as it is done in hell’ hung in the air before falling on the heads of the audience, they paused in stunned awe before totally going wild with major cheers and even enthusiastic whistles. I regularly attend more concerts than my credit cards should allow me, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard such enthusiasm for an opening act. Except possibly that time for the guy who opened a few years ago when Elvis Costello played the Albert Hall. That guy was called Ron Sexsmith, my introduction to him before I immediately bought all his albums, but even then, he didn’t sing as boldly and beautifully. I wonder what spurred him on tonight? Perhaps it’s new true love. Or perhaps he’s cut out dairy…..
Ron only paused long enough to let the audience beat these new emotions out of their system by pounding their hands together briefly, then moved into the first song that particularly caught my attention that night in the Albert Hall years ago: NOTHING GOOD from Other Songs. Again, this song had a brilliantly full song that quickly lures many of its listeners into foot-tapping. People who now belatedly wandered into the auditorium, the type who clearly normally skipped the opening act and maybe just came in to drop their coats on their seats before heading for the bar, instead skulked in looking guilty and sorry to have missed so much of something good, took their seats and stayed put. They stared, entranced, at this child-faced gentle man on stage who was twisting his head from side to side as he pounded away at his acoustic guitar, moving briefly away from the mike whilst he concentrated on a quick guitar solo. He blasted out the last verse that begins with ‘And when the morning comes tumbling down/No trace of the night before…..’ with a new strength and bashed away at his guitar some more. I always love hearing this song, and it’s an excellent choice in these circumstances as it never fails to win a crowd over, but this rendition in particular had me thinking, ‘wow!’, and I was clearly joined by the others in that sentiment as we all raved about him in our cheering.
Ron then braved a bit of between song banter, saying that it was nice to be back in London, that the last time he had played here was with his four piece band, and it was kind of hard to play solo again, but he was still glad to be here, playing again. He then said that he had received a request by e-mail----which, as always at these Ron gigs, makes me think, ‘Damn! Why do I never ever think of doing that?’ Mind you, he always chooses a marvellous selection that never lets me down (though I’d be so chuffed to hear him sing On A Whim just once!). Anyway, I have to praise this request for inventiveness and entertainment value. It came from Gill on her birthday (assuming he didn’t say Gil, which would be a man’s name I guess……), and the song requested was, he said, a B-side that he didn’t play very often. The hauntingly beautiful song ALMOST ALWAYS appears on the 1998 charity compilation CD called 30 Hour Famine – A Benefit Compilation, featuring Canadian artists in support of the 30 Hour Famine, an annual fund-raiser co-ordinated by World Vision Canada to help fight hunger, sickness and injustices in the world. (A bit like our Comic Relief, I suppose, but I think all we’ll get is perhaps a CD featuring performances from the Celebrity Fame Academy, which is scary rather than exciting, but then one must focus on the good cause…..)
This slow, lovely, mournful song is recognisable as a Ron song by the choice of words applied to the sweet music, but it is as if they were transposed in order to portray a different mood from the norm. These days, Ron’s songs are full of optimism when it’s clear that he, or the voice of the song, is struggling in bad times. This song is more influenced by Murphy’s Law (ie if it can go wrong, it will) and accepts that it rules with a defeatist attitude. Rather than optimism, it sings of realism. ‘And if there’s a silver lining somewhere in all the grey, almost always, we find it out too late.’ Even if the song was born of less hopeful, darker days, it was enormously appealing, so gentle and calm. Not quite the cheerful birthday song one might think to request, but a real treat for us all, with Ron kept quite busy on the guitar again. Somewhere near the end were the enchanting lyrics ‘As I awake to find my little angel is tugging at my sleeve,’ which did hint at a bit more hope and optimism than that contained in some earlier lines, and had a rather strong ‘aww!’ factor of cuteness. You would never know that this song wasn’t played as regularly as Strawberry Blonde, as Ron pulled it off as though he’d rehearsed it every day.
Ron calmly thanked the audience for their worshipful cheers as though he’d done nothing special, and said he would like to bring on his friend John Sands. John Sands is royalty from the Boston music scene, Aimee Mann’s drummer, who impressed us more later. It took me a minute to realise this, so I initially thought it was bold of him to stride so surely onto the stage, climb up onto the platform at the back and take a seat at Aimee Mann’s drummer’s elaborate drum set, which seemed even more bizarre when he simply played an egg shaker and did nothing with the drum set. He also looked completely out of place on stage at a gig in London, bedecked in a light tan suit that no one in England would ever wear (our poor men in the City stick to their heavy wool navy pin stripes even if the temperature is in the 90s in the summer, bless them) complete with brown shirt and tie. He had very short hair and specs and looked far too tidy and respectable to be a drummer; he looked more like a serious newscaster, if not a slightly hip yet still geeky professor or your best friend’s fun dad. His appearance made me think of Jools Holland’s drummer Gilson Lavis (ex-Squeeze), who is, um, more mature than many but looks incredibly smooth, tends to drum in suits, and wows audiences with his incredible energy despite having had a heart attack some years ago. John was in a similar league.
Ron said that John ‘n’ Ron were going to perform another song from the new album, a song they had done a video for, which ‘looked a lot like this.’ With that, he started playing THESE DAYS, with John, as I mentioned, busy holding up and shaking an egg shaker in his right hand with an odd oblong stick in his left hand----perhaps some sort of maraca? I couldn’t really see. I must admit---and I felt guilty after his grand introduction-----that I could barely hear his contribution over Ron’s incredible bluesy, busy guitar playing and marvellous vocals. It is never a bad thing to hear Ron prominently, but I suppose the mixing desk could have done a bit more to let us experience the reason for John’s presence. It seemed as though he was simply there to prevent Ron from getting lonely. That is understandable since the song is so full of other people normally, but here again, they weren’t missed at all; Ron kept us perfectly well entertained with superlative sound that filled the hall.
Other than almost silencing John’s contribution here, the sound folk did a fairly grand job all night, and certainly did Ron’s voice justice throughout his set. In fact during this song, I could feel Ron’s voice vibrating in my hand, which was a new and rather pleasant sensation (though I suppose that it would freak me out if it happened when I was just wandering down the street one day) and was as close to cupping an angelic songbird in my hand as I will ever get.
Despite its cynical lyrical content, These Days has quite an uplifting tune---played even faster this night, I felt----and it’s terribly catchy, even without the doo-wop backing vocals. Usually when I see its title, I think automatically of the song that Eire natives Brian Kennedy and Ronan Keating performed as a duet (when Brian sings it live and solo without all the gooey birdsong noises on the single, it’s actually quite a touching song). But after this fine performance, I will always think of this song, even when looking at a Brian Kennedy song list.
Near the end, Ron plucked out a solo that sounded a bit like Stevie Wonder’s You Are the Sunshine of My Life (no George Harrison tributes this time), sang a few doo-wop-ish vocals himself, and then ended the song with a flourish on his guitar. His performance (and John’s, of course) earned major applause. He had completely won over the audience, and people were even photographing him fairly regularly now, which is rarely done over here, particularly for support acts.
I’m not so sure that Ron’s video actually looked like that, though, but who am I to challenge his word? Particularly as I’ve yet to see the video, sadly.
Ron thanked us and began playing one of my very favourites, SEEM TO RECALL from Whereabouts. John was much more audible now, doing marvellous things with a brush on a snare with unbridled energy. Their performance really was amazing, and you would never notice that Ron wasn’t surrounded by a complete orchestra, as the recorded version implies. His impressive busy guitar playing, something I seem to have taken for granted before, really filled any would-be void before you had time to notice that anything might be missing. In fact, he played the song this night much less mournfully than the recorded version, and it really bolted along. By now, as John left the stage, Ron was looking out onto an audience of over 3,000 people as it had really filled up; he certainly has ‘bums on seats’ power!
Tragically, Ron announced that he was only going to do one more song. He thanked Aimee Mann for ‘having me out,’ the unusual pronunciation of the last word finally confirming that he is indeed Canadian. He told us, and addressed this fact particularly to those trivia buffs out there, that the next song would be his next single. As he was referring to GOLD IN THEM HILLS, you would have thought he might mention Coldplay’s Chris Martin, seizing an opportunity to grab even more attention from the people who were newly affected by his music on this night, impressing them even more by his contacts and connections. He said nothing about Coldplay; he didn’t need to as we were all impressed anyway, dumbfounded by the performance even. (The Coldplay deference was left to Aimee during her set later when she and her band played a cover version of The Scientist, when she bemoaned the fact that Gwyneth Paltrow had not bothered to turn up for the gig.) Here again, you would assume that Gold in Them Hills needs that lovely repetitive piano riff and the strings winding itself around Ron’s lovely vocals, which so smoothly really reached some new pinnacle here. Instead, Ron proved that you miss nothing when he’s performing on stage, the same way that you never even miss the songs he didn’t play, in the way you do sometimes when you go home from a concert, disappointed that they didn’t play their hits or your favourites. Ron has so many stunning songs that he performs so exquisitely with that amazing presence of his, you never go home feeling anything other than sated and totally thrilled.
Ron performed this song in that half-wacky, mostly endearing Ron stance, with his left knee bent, his body twisting slowly on occasion, looking such a calm and gentle soul. When he finished, after slowing the beat a few times near the end of the gorgeously sung song, almost completely changing the time once or twice and almost turning it into a waltz, he thanked us (he thanked us?? Yes, we’d worked very hard to keep him entertained during that half hour). He said he hoped to see us in the next few months or so, which sounds promising. The audience went completely mad in the most un-English way, someone even calling out ‘Oooooo Ronnie!’ Ron sheepishly returned to the mike and said meekly, ‘yeah, that’s me.’ Then he was gone.
We screamed for an encore, but of course support acts aren’t allowed encores, and they brought the lights up immediately to indicate that we should flock to the bar right away in order to give the venue all of our money. Many of us chose to remain in our seats and discuss the beauty we had just experienced, which was far more intoxicating. The sad thought that struck me was that Ron could have sold so many CDs if they had been available at the merchandise stand, which only had some Aimee-branded clothing. I only hope that the recently won over punters managed to find out his surname so that they can go out and order all his CDs.
Later in the evening, Aimee Mann said how much she loved Ron when she thanked him for opening for her that night, and the next night in a radio interview, she told the presenter that Canadian’s were just the best. I have been an Aimee Mann fan for almost 20 years and think she is a truly skilled artist and songwriter, but I have to admit to leaving Hammersmith feeling that the best set was the first one. Aimee has loads of terrific material, plenty of talent and an amazing band (all of whom were dressed in suits and ties, which explains John the drummer’s outfit), but rather than allow us to share her insightful songs with some sort of intimate set, we were presented with a pounding Van-Halen-style rock concert, with her shouting out that everything was f-ing this or f-ing that every two seconds. I thoroughly enjoyed her act, but Ron came across as the more moving, smooth performer, and the audience must have learned a lot from his songs, as they could hear every word.
No matter what, I remain thrilled that I bought a ticket last year to see Aimee Mann in March, and ended up seeing Ron Sexsmith on the same night at no added cost---the best two for one deal around. What a stunning evening.
So, a round-up of the setlist:-
Copyright © 2003 by TC.
All rights reserved.
Did you enjoy this review? Why not leave a comment in the Guest Book?
Home →
Reviews → Ron Sexsmith
have visited this page reviewing Ron Sexsmith performing live at the Carling
Apollo Hammersmith since 26 March 2005.