Gravenhurst / Headshoppe : Infinity Club, London 27 Jul 2004

I was very pleased and really looking forward to seeing Gravenhurst. The delicate folk and electronica of album ‘Flashlight Seasons’ is a beguiling experience and thus it was with eager anticipation that Eyeballkid’s focus strained on the hard-to-find backwater of London’s Infinity Club.

This mood lasted as long as took to work our way past all three of the other punters and order our 2-for-1 Latvian lagers. OK, so Gravenhurst weren’t the headline act (that accolade belongs to Head Shop, more of whom later) but y’know, he’s critically acclaimed, and not just by us…

When he takes the stage there is further disappointment, as it just Gravenhurst himself, Nick Talbot. No subtle piano or synthesized layers for us tonight – just acoustic guitar and plaintive vocal from… is it Chris Evans’s old right-hand idiot Will? No… it’s Thelma from Scooby-Doo for crying out loud! Ah well, he doesn’t have to look rock, and he certainly looks folk….

Immediately impressive finger-picking guitar work grabs the attention of the now, ooh, 12-strong audience. There are more in the club, but they are not listening to Mr Grave N Hurst, a fact that irks him no end. The songs are, however, excellent. The elegant ‘Bluebeard’, the stark ‘The Diver’ – “the ghosts of autumn murders walk me home”, cool line that. Then there is his own beautiful interpretations of Husker Du’s ‘Diane’, which provides an almost furious climax as Thelma threatens to come back next time with his band and be so loud that we can’t possibly chat. Which is all about as threatening as a Tim Henman fist-pump. But with his band, he will be able to hold an audience, and be all the more mesmerising for it. Very folk really – be nice to him and all sorts of lovely Nick Drakeness should result.

The juxtaposition of Gravenhurst with Headshoppe is certainly a strange one. Ian Drury and the Madness is as close a description as I can give you of Headshop.pe “I’m sick, you’re mine!” they shout in exaggerated Lahndahn accents. They wear brown coats, they play kind of ska with undeniably funky gusto, the guitarist seems to be sporting correction shoes, there’s about eight of them crammed up there looking like they’d be hurting people in the name of Chelsea if only it was the football season. They are, in the words of someone standing near me, “entertaining but shit”. Indeed, we leave before the end.

Strain every sinew to hear Gravenhurst with his band when they next tour… have your head read if you’re into Headshoppe.

words: Roger Hadwen
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