Nashville Rooms
Details
- Date
- January 06, 1979
- Venue
- Nashville Rooms London, England (West Kensington)
- Billed As
- The Soft Boys
- Gig Type
- Concert
Notes
Also playing: Andy Arthur's R.A.C.
per Andy Metcalfe
Concert listing and reviews (transcribed below) from page 13 and 15 of Kimberley Rew's Soft Boys scrapbook
Images used with permission.
Setlist incomplete
per Andy Metcalfe
Concert listing and reviews (transcribed below) from page 13 and 15 of Kimberley Rew's Soft Boys scrapbook
Images used with permission.
Setlist incomplete
Reviews
N.M.E.
January 20, 1979
The Swap A Brain Gang
Soft Boys
Nashville
Dame Edna and The Damned punctured London's monotony uptown, while platoons of thrillgazers crammed into North End Road's hottest niterie.
Andy Arthur's R.A.C. launched the soiree on an unpredictable course. Their set was an enthusiastic onslaught of tight light metal, remarkable mainly for the incongruous figure cut by AA himself; as wholesome as the mechanic next door in his day-glo boiler-suit, yet given to the most chilling falsetto since Russel Mael sat in a tub of dry ice.
I liked the way they handled "Psycho Killer", but couldn't unfold my arms for most of their set.
The Soft Boys' busy performance was a beehive of frantic energy aimed at evoking a mood, but at the expense of musical unity.
For influences they delved into an eclectic pot-pourri of musical snatches and styles, some of which surfaced elegantly while a lot of it sank in a quag of subliminal complexity.
Their unorthodoxy is revealed most strongly through singer Robyn Hitchcock, who hails from an abyss of his own.
A latter day Bela Lugosi look-alike, he growled his farrago of self-penned songs., touching upon private obsessions of transexuality, shellfish, crowbar wailers and Sandra's brain transplant. He's a closet genius in the Syd Barrett vein, and a fine vocalist to boot.
Dynamics were supplied by the agile fretting and footwork of guitarist Kimberley Rew, cleverly twiddling the shards of creative feedback; and Jim Melton, who trapezed on and offstage to play spicy harmonica or de-mist his mirror shades. Cohesion was dutifully provided (almost) by drummer Morris Windsor and Andy 'Pigworker; Metcalfe on bass.
Together they handled mutant hybrids of reggae, psychedelia, punkthrash and Gregorian plainsong, and high-lighted the show with some unexpectedly good R&B tunes.
Not withstanding the dictates of fashion, The Soft Boys may be destined for a future flirt with fame,. Their impish inventiveness and disregard for rock protocol make them unlike any other band in the business. But in their eagerness to subvert, they frequently lost control of the musical pacing. Result: noise: hip-fracture.
I'll gladly look up any future Soft gig, if only to pick up the bits I missed when I blinked during tonight's show.
Rick Joseph
________________________________________________________________________________________
Record Mirror
January 13, 1979
The Soft Boys
Nashville London
The post holiday sluggishness of the music industry meant a thin list of interesting gigs in the metropolis on Saturday night. As a consequence the Soft Boys enjoyed a near capacity crowd and proceeded to do their best to make is disperse.
Their music is an unsavoury hangover from the technicolour sprawl of psychedelia, only the colours have faded and the cosmic concerns are mawkish in the extreme.
Lines like "Where are the floors?" (sic) just embarrass while the jangling guitars, elasticated solos and string scrapes are too self-conscious and laboured to be enjoyable.
"Poisoning" came over like Lou Reed in slow motion with heavy dollops of echo and words like "Floating" and "Flying" nosediving like lead balloons amid the dirge.
The set continued downhill with the applause being more polite than enthusiastic and a steady stream of punters heading for the exit.
Individually there was very little to commend with Robyn Hitchcock's good voice falling too easily and too frequently into shouting. Kimberley Rew on lead turned in some nice string bending, particularly on "Mystery Train", but the rhythm section was too often caught thrashing to lend much inspiration and occasional member Jim Melton on harmonica and vocals was always superfluous.
On my way out there was a sick looking punter who had deposited his dinner on the pavement. I'd have liked to have said that it wasn't that bad, but it was.
Mike Gardner
January 20, 1979
The Swap A Brain Gang
Soft Boys
Nashville
Dame Edna and The Damned punctured London's monotony uptown, while platoons of thrillgazers crammed into North End Road's hottest niterie.
Andy Arthur's R.A.C. launched the soiree on an unpredictable course. Their set was an enthusiastic onslaught of tight light metal, remarkable mainly for the incongruous figure cut by AA himself; as wholesome as the mechanic next door in his day-glo boiler-suit, yet given to the most chilling falsetto since Russel Mael sat in a tub of dry ice.
I liked the way they handled "Psycho Killer", but couldn't unfold my arms for most of their set.
The Soft Boys' busy performance was a beehive of frantic energy aimed at evoking a mood, but at the expense of musical unity.
For influences they delved into an eclectic pot-pourri of musical snatches and styles, some of which surfaced elegantly while a lot of it sank in a quag of subliminal complexity.
Their unorthodoxy is revealed most strongly through singer Robyn Hitchcock, who hails from an abyss of his own.
A latter day Bela Lugosi look-alike, he growled his farrago of self-penned songs., touching upon private obsessions of transexuality, shellfish, crowbar wailers and Sandra's brain transplant. He's a closet genius in the Syd Barrett vein, and a fine vocalist to boot.
Dynamics were supplied by the agile fretting and footwork of guitarist Kimberley Rew, cleverly twiddling the shards of creative feedback; and Jim Melton, who trapezed on and offstage to play spicy harmonica or de-mist his mirror shades. Cohesion was dutifully provided (almost) by drummer Morris Windsor and Andy 'Pigworker; Metcalfe on bass.
Together they handled mutant hybrids of reggae, psychedelia, punkthrash and Gregorian plainsong, and high-lighted the show with some unexpectedly good R&B tunes.
Not withstanding the dictates of fashion, The Soft Boys may be destined for a future flirt with fame,. Their impish inventiveness and disregard for rock protocol make them unlike any other band in the business. But in their eagerness to subvert, they frequently lost control of the musical pacing. Result: noise: hip-fracture.
I'll gladly look up any future Soft gig, if only to pick up the bits I missed when I blinked during tonight's show.
Rick Joseph
________________________________________________________________________________________
Record Mirror
January 13, 1979
The Soft Boys
Nashville London
The post holiday sluggishness of the music industry meant a thin list of interesting gigs in the metropolis on Saturday night. As a consequence the Soft Boys enjoyed a near capacity crowd and proceeded to do their best to make is disperse.
Their music is an unsavoury hangover from the technicolour sprawl of psychedelia, only the colours have faded and the cosmic concerns are mawkish in the extreme.
Lines like "Where are the floors?" (sic) just embarrass while the jangling guitars, elasticated solos and string scrapes are too self-conscious and laboured to be enjoyable.
"Poisoning" came over like Lou Reed in slow motion with heavy dollops of echo and words like "Floating" and "Flying" nosediving like lead balloons amid the dirge.
The set continued downhill with the applause being more polite than enthusiastic and a steady stream of punters heading for the exit.
Individually there was very little to commend with Robyn Hitchcock's good voice falling too easily and too frequently into shouting. Kimberley Rew on lead turned in some nice string bending, particularly on "Mystery Train", but the rhythm section was too often caught thrashing to lend much inspiration and occasional member Jim Melton on harmonica and vocals was always superfluous.
On my way out there was a sick looking punter who had deposited his dinner on the pavement. I'd have liked to have said that it wasn't that bad, but it was.
Mike Gardner