The city of dreaming spires may have gifted the nation the likes of Supergrass and Radiohead, provided a home for Lyra Belacqua and played a part in the education of Professor Stephen Hawking, but apparently its audiences aren't very lively. Or, at least, this is what Cate le Bon tells us of her experience playing there the previous evening. Depending upon your level of cynicality this could be viewed as disparaging to the fine people of Oxford or, instead, that well used tactic of winning over a new audience by rubbishing an old one. If it is the latter then it's not a tactic that le Bon needs to use.
The comment regarding the previous night's crowd is dropped several songs into her set, needlessly as I (and, given the applause, the rest of the crowd) am enthralled. What a difference a few songs can make; at the outset I wasn't so sure what we were in for, with le Bon striding across the stage to stand in a dark corner, set apart from the three members of her backing band. Thoughts of J Spaceman, standing aloof at the side of the stage, stirred at the back of my memory. Would this be another such gig where I left feeling that I'd paid money to watch someone who didn't want to be looked at? No, obviously.
From the opening bars of the first song le Bon becomes possessed by the music, stepping into the light and swaying toward the microphone. Holding the guitar like a weapon she moves around the stage, a fluid and better choreographed Wilko Johnson she could machine gun us down at any time. That the set plundered latest album Mug Museum is no real surprise; the first track from the new long player, I Can't Help You, is dispatched early on and a stirring Wild is dedicated to the fine folks of Portsmouth (and sees an errant string broken midway through its wig out, thus the guitar is replaced by handbells for the next couple of numbers).
Her backing band of Huw, Dan and Steve (who were all introduced to in another break between songs) leave le Bon alone for the first song of the encore, a beautifully delicate take on Frank Mills (from the musical Hair but probably better known by some as the last proper track on The Lemonheads' It's A Shame About Ray album). The band rejoin for one last song and then, all too soon, the lights come on and we make our way to the door and the delights of the merchandise desk that awaits us in the foyer.
So, yes, I feel a bit sorry for Oxford. Cate le Bon was an exquisite delight, you'd have to have been staring at your shoes, with fingers in your ears, not to have been swept along with her.
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