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. Â Layered deep in a velvet storytelling tapestry I am convinced beyond doubt that bands such as The Decemberists have outright ripped him off. Â Colin Melloy dreams to be Robyn.. think about it. Â 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. Â I attribute this to his vocals. Â 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? Â A graying man with an acoustic guitar (and piano and harmonica) captivate you once again but on a totally different level. Â 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. Â Endearing and wonderfully warm. Â Hitchcock uses this humor for his numerous guitar tunes ups and throws in stories now and then which honestly left me baffled. Â 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. Â What I learend in this intimate situation was that Robyn is an extremely talented guitarist. Â Fast fingers with great segway. Â 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. Â Its a bore, I often have a hard time paying attention with just 1 person to look at. Â This wasn’t the case tonight. Â Tonight even hearing nostalgia like “My Wife and My Dead Wife” with nothing but an acoustic guitar was more than sufficient. Â It was a tribute to the master of a his craft.
Yes, I would love to see Hitchcock with full band. Â 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
