I came late to the Hitchcock party. Not tonight, nah, I was right on time but to the actual knowing of Robyns work. Missed the Soft Boys by a mile but Robyn Hitchcock and The Egyptians covered my bedroom walls. “Import” vinyls I would kill for today were hung up form me to oogle like a schoolgirl (which I was). I vowed in those teenager years that should I ever have a son his name would be Robyn, and he’d be as foxy as that bastard crooning the creepy tunes.
And creepy is a great word for the semi psychedelic sounds that come from Robyn Hitchcock. Layered deep in a velvet storytelling tapestry I am convinced beyond doubt that bands such as The Decemberists have outright ripped him off. Colin Melloy dreams to be Robyn.. think about it. Hitchcock tells abstract stories of love and death and comets and flares and you have no idea what hes on about and you’re transported into a hazy world that’s just plain lovely and comforting despite being so fucking disturbing. I attribute this to his vocals. High pitched boy tones which grab you in the gut and the lower register whisper he uses now and again.
So what happens when 31 years later you’re in a 180 person capacity venue in the middle of Hipsterville Massachusetts? A graying man with an acoustic guitar (and piano and harmonica) captivate you once again but on a totally different level. Robyn has aged, I haven’t, Im still 16 but he has and his sense of humor is that of your pop- funny but corny. Endearing and wonderfully warm. Hitchcock uses this humor for his numerous guitar tunes ups and throws in stories now and then which honestly left me baffled. As if they were inside jokes, I couldn’t follow.
But the songs? They were fantastic and I expected to be disappointed. C’mon where’s the drum and bass? Come to find out a story teller doesn’t really need that at all. With clear lyrics and the help of a very talented soundboard operator the evening was a subdued success. The Iron Horse Music Hall in Northampton made a few tactical errors. The tables should have been removed if not lessened. I don’t want to sit with strangers Im not on cruise buffet. If a show is ‘sold out at 180’ then remove the tables and bring in 20 more people and give us the ability to stand. But thats not Robyns issue and a full room was intensely focused on the man with the light-bulb head. Well his head isn’t a light-bulb but the silver is gorgeous and his disposition a joy.
Hitchcock went back to his Soft Boy days through Egyptians and all the way to cuts from his latest album The Man Upstairs. What I learend in this intimate situation was that Robyn is an extremely talented guitarist. Fast fingers with great segway. Having never seen him live I had no idea what a talent he had. I am not a fan of a man and guitar concert. Its a bore, I often have a hard time paying attention with just 1 person to look at. This wasn’t the case tonight. Tonight even hearing nostalgia like “My Wife and My Dead Wife” with nothing but an acoustic guitar was more than sufficient. It was a tribute to the master of a his craft.
Yes, I would love to see Hitchcock with full band. But I will cherish this evening with my old heartthrob.
Grade A
with extra credit for being able to cross seeing him live off my bucket list
