Jazz Cafe - 20 March 2000

Ron Sexsmith - Jazz Café, Camden on 20 March 2000

The Jazz Café is a darkish, intimate club in Camden, north London, and it's

effectively divided into two sections: the small (and generally quite

crowded) area downstairs around the compact stage, near the bar, and the

upstairs dining room, where people can book tables for the evening that look

down over the stage that is a few feet below, whilst eating a fixed-price meal.

I had been once before to see the magnificent Boo Hewerdine, with Colin Vearncombe supporting, and because I'm an old fogey with a bit of claustrophobia when it comes to crowds, I opted for the more expensive, comfortable option of viewing from above. Ron stood throughout the show--except when playing piano--directly in my line of vision, right in front of me. So I couldn't complaint about that.

The only other time I have seen Ron live was when he was new to me, opening

for Elvis Costello (and Steve Nieve) at the much grander Royal Albert Hall

last year. There, Ron was also on his own on the stage with only his guitar

for company, and although the surroundings would normally dwarf a sole

musician, he wowed us all with his presence and won me over for life.

On this Monday night in Camden, Ron strolled on after an enjoyable set by the

dynamic Anna Egge, whom he had introduced before she took the stage,

which was a very generous gesture that few other headlining acts would make.

He was wearing a smart dark grey suit with a pastel blue and yellow

seersucker-looking plaid shirt beneath it. I was quite struck by how gentle

his face looks, framed by the soft waves of hair. I haven't met him, but he

just looks like the decent soul that he clearly is.

Ron opened with one of my favourites, Seem To Recall, after which he

muttered, 'One down,' as if he were giving himself a weak motivational pep

talk. He then moved onto the jazzy Right About Now, before referring to a

previous London gig, saying that he hoped he had not come back too soon. He

nodded sheepishly towards the grand piano and said that, before he finished,

he would 'attempt to play that thing over there.' At this point, he also

confirmed that Steve Earle would be producing his next album, starting in

May. Then he referred to the calm songs he had just performed and said that

he intended to 'start off kind of slow...and gradually wind down.'

Next, he went into There's A Rhythm, a song I always enjoyed yet never fully

appreciated until I heard him perform it live. It was wonderful,

hypnotising. Then came the fun From A Few Streets Over before another

incredibly catchy favourite, Nothing Good, when he tried different footing

and then remarked, 'I've gotta work on my Elvis stance.'

He introduced the wonderful 'So Young' with 'here's one that I wrote on the

swings,' and he followed that with the marvellous Beautiful View, with

fabulous guitar playing. Next came a new song. He said he had two new

songs that he might play, and did we want to hear a romantic one or a

psychotic one? He got a mixed response from the audience, so he said he'd

do both psychotic and romantic-there were a bunch of those on the record,

called 'the stalkers songs.' I have to say that I knew I would love the

material in terms of music that Ron came up with during the gig, but he has

enough material for a career in stand-up, too, and most of it was clearly

spontaneous.

Ron began the first new song after explaining that it wasn't actually

psychotic, but more like a Scorsese film, about a loser who, he stressed,

wasn't Ron. The song included wonderful trickling guitar with an almost

bluesy feel about it. 'And if that bad winner would have a little accident'

were some words I seem to recall (sorry) from the song, called Parable.

By the way, Ron said it would be 'cool to have one' about stalkers, and I'm sure

someone out there would gladly take him up on that. Someone kind, I hope.

'And now for the romantic one,' he said before launching into the next new

one, an absolutely lovely song whose title I don't know. A sample of the

lyrics: 'A kiss for lunch, that's enough to keep me hanging on.'

Next he performed the gentle Lebanon, Tennessee, before moving to the piano

for a gorgeous rendition of Wastin' Time, which has always reminded me a bit

of Nick Lowe. Before he began, he explained that his piano playing was in

its infancy, but of course, he played fine. Since the piano was right by

the bar, an honoured member of the audience got him a glass of red wine.

He introduced the next song by saying that it was one of many songs that he

wished he'd written, and then after thinking for a moment, he added, 'This

and that Pina Colada song.' Everyone laughed at that, but not as hard as we

did when he started playing the intro for the Pina Colada/Making Love at

Midnight song. He then gave a wonderful rendition of the much-covered (but

never like this!) Leonard Cohen song Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye.

Though it sounded flawless, he apologised for the 'bum notes' but explained

that everyday was an adventure.

He then sang the upbeat and interesting The Idiot Boy, the terrifically

bright Clown in Broad Daylight, and then the moving Words We Never Use. The

latter included an impressive guitar solo, an acoustic one, of course, no

Van Halen shenanigans; it was grand.

Next came the eminently catchy Pretty Little Cemetery, then the haunting yet

wonderful Strawberry Blonde, with more amazing guitar work. Ron said that

it was another 'story song,' but based on five different people, 'in case

you thought it was you.' When he moved onto the gently sweet Still Time, he

suggested slyly that the next time he performed in town, he hoped to do so

with a full orchestra.

At this point, someone requested the popular Secret Heart, but instead, Ron

played a request apparently made prior to the show, the philosophical In a

Flash, for a happy couple in the audience, now made even happier. With

that, he finished, and started to walk up the stairs, through the dining

part of the club (where I was seated with my completely bowled over friend),

before reacting quickly to the mad cheers, turning and making the trek back

to the stage for an encore.

Ron sat behind the piano and unjustly put down his piano playing skills,

saying that he had said earlier that his piano playing was in its infancy,

but now it was really a teenager. He performed pretty Riverbed beautifully.

Someone passed him a note with 'April' written on it, but he didn't seem too

keen to perform that. I was conscious that Secret Heart was still being

neglected, as well. But so far, he had performed 20 songs, all of them

magnificently, so we really could not complain!

He introduced the next song by remembering a historic moment for him when he

appeared on Later with Jools Holland (in May 1996) and performed this

song, the longed for Secret Heart--and the audience was rapturous. He said

that he'd seen that clip again not long ago, 'and I wish someone had told me

not to wear that shirt!' His guitar playing was excellent, again, and it

was clear that the song sent chills up spines throughout the club; few

concerts pull the entire audience into the experience the way this one did.

Next, Ron surprised us by saying that he had just been recording a track for

a Ray Davies tribute album, and he treated us by playing the song in

question, This Is Where I Belong. I used to really love the Kinks and Ray,

but this will always be my favourite version of the song--sorry, Ray. I got

the clear impression that the audience shared my sentiments.

Finally, after it was requested one more time, we were treated to the

delightful and optimistic April After All. The friend who had joined me for

the concert had seen a line from this song a dozen times, as I use it for my

default signature for outgoing e-mails: 'Even the longest night will lead

you to daylight.' When I first played Other Songs and heard that, I could

think of nothing better to capture how I felt after surviving two of the

blackest, seemingly impossible years of my life. I have always been the

world's worst pessimist, yet now I am truly happy with life, and I think

everyone should know those genuine, inspirational and reassuring words. I

used to include the song title as part of my signature, but I prefer to

leave it off now, though Ron is credited, of course, because it has

encouraged numerous people on various discussion lists to contact me, asking

more about Ron. That way, I have introduced many new fans to his music.

But I am digressing, and on this night in the Jazz Café, Ron stumped me by

singing 'Even the longest night will lead us to daylight.' I was mortified

that I might have been misquoting him all of this time, so publicly.

Fortunately, when I checked at home, I found that it was simply a variation

made during the gig, and I was quoting the recorded version correctly.

Hearing Ron perform the song in person was terribly moving, in any case.

After that, he put his guitar down and walked up the stairs again, slowly

making his way past each table as the people at each one stood up and either

patted him on the back or shook his hand, as if he had single-handedly

brought peace to the world. Somehow, it felt as if he had; that sounds so

corny, but we were all stunned by the consistently fine performance of

23--unbelievable but true--23 songs!

Make that 24. Ron had almost reached the dressing room and definitely

looked resigned to go sit down and relax, when he suddenly had a new thought

and, after pausing to weigh the advantages of travelling in either

direction, he returned, luckily for us, to the stage once again. I forgive

him for being indecisive since he made the best decision for us in the end.

Not only did he play one more number, but he made it my favourite song from

Other Songs: At Different Times. An instantly likeable tune, the most

wonderful and warm lyrics....it was heaven.

And that was the end, at last. I was left with almost no time to make a

rushed journey to Charing Cross station in time for my last train to Kent,

and my friend had legs half as long as mine and was thus a liability speed

wise. But, perhaps newly inspired, she managed to keep up with me the whole

way. She had travelled from America for a few days of visiting, with the

primary goal of seeing Van Morrison at the Albert Hall the next night and

relaxing from her stressful job. I had asked if she would mind joining me

at a concert on Monday, as well. By Wednesday, she found herself unable to

decide which was the better concert. I have to tell you that Van's was one

of the best I've seen of his and I see him a lot. But I agree

with my friend; it's a difficult decision.

Immediately upon her return to the States a few days later, my friend bought

all three of Ron's albums. So now there is one more enthusiastic convert spreading

the word in her small corner of the world. But I have no doubt that everyone in the

club felt the same, even if they weren't die-hard fans before then. Ron was in such

excellent voice, he delivered every song with such confidence, that every

track exceeded the quality of the recorded versions. He was amazing. What

frightens me is that it was reported on the list that this night was the

inferior of the two! How did you people on Tuesday cope?

If I were forced to have a regret, it is that I forgot (and would have

chickened out anyway) to request 'On A Whim,' the brilliant song written by

Ron that is performed by the incredible Eddi Reader on her Angels and

Electricity album (produced by aforementioned Boo Hewerdine). I know that

Ron has performed it live before, and I would have loved to have heard it.

Maybe next time. But I am hardly focusing for even one second on feeling

sad for the lack of one song when Ron did 24 marvellous ones.

Also, eating upstairs is expensive; you pay about £25 each to cover the

set-priced meal and admission. Little did I know, until the end of the

concert, that the bottles of still water at the Jazz Café cost about £4 each

(I wish I'd stopped at Boots on the way in! I could have bought extra

bottles of Evian and made a huge profit) and that the measly starter I

didn't want but had as I thought it was part of the set price meal, which

comprised one globe artichoke with some mustard, which probably cost

them 45p, cost me £9! I'm sorry to sound mean, but after

the gig, I realised that I'd paid, for two of us, about £70!! Seventy

pounds for a Ron Sexsmith gig, which is much more than I've ever paid for

Van Morrison, and even more than I paid for Tony Bennett, who has been

around a bit longer. But you know what? I don't feel the least bit

cheated. Somehow, Ron made it all excellent value for money. I see dozens

of concerts each year, and this really was one of the best concerts I have

seen.

Did you enjoy this review? Why not leave a comment in the Guest Book?

Home → Reviews → Ron Sexsmith

Hit Counter have visited this page reviewing Ron Sexsmith performing live at the Jazz Cafe since 26 March 2005.