Review by Jennie Macfie
Nik Kershaw
Spa Pavilion, Strathpeffer, 5 March 2010
Nik Kershaw
STRIPPED down to solo acoustic guitar, stomp pedal and voice, Nik Kershaw’s songs stand the test of time far better than one might have expected of someone who was Big in the 80s.
Excavated from the dense carapace of synthesisers and drum machines that was the sine qua non of New Wave production values, his tunes dart unpredictably through the keys in a way more characteristic of jazz than pop.
The lyrics are thoughtful, and the voice has if anything improved with age, retaining the purity of the high notes but having gained more depth and soul – not unlike an English Paul Simon, especially on the Latin accented and rhythmed Wounded.
Kershaw is relaxed, affable, comfortable in his own skin, as he shuffles old hits like Don Quixote with newer tunes like Dangerous Eyes, written for a yummy mummy encountered on the school run. He’s here to sell a CD of his acoustic work, No Frills, but one suspects that the man who wrote not only his own Top Ten Tunes, but The One And Only (for Chesney Hawkes, still a friend) is unlikely to be on his uppers.
Witness the fact that he doesn’t actually carry his own guitar on stage; the roadie reverentially places it on a chair before Kershaw makes his entrance. He gives the impression of being here because he enjoys being on the road performing and connecting with his audience.
As a writer, performer and producer, Kershaw totally understands the construction and deconstruction of songs. 1984’s top twenty hit Dancing Girls is a case in point, recast as a waltz “because I realised the girls were 25 years older now and wouldn’t be able to dance as fast”, it is poignantly affecting, like the soundtrack to a Nouvelle Vague film. After the pared down, still forceful hit Wouldn’t It Be Good, he says “I wish I’d had a pound for every time I’ve played that”, then stops, adding with theatrical surprise – “Oh, I have!”.
He’s still writing beautiful but angry songs, and follows it with Loud, Confident and Wrong, about George Bush, inspired by Michael Moore’s Angry White Men. Somehow it’s hard to imagine Human League or Bananarama getting worked up about US foreign policy, then or now…. and he closes the night with his biggest single, I Won’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me.
Sadly, nearly three decades later, old men in stripey trousers are still sitting in the lobby, searching for an enemy. But the crowd in Strathpeffer is happily oblivious to the political subtext, singing along, waving their arms and clapping energetically. Kershaw encores with Human Racing, then uses the stomp pedal to maximum effect to create a multi-layered backing for Stevie Wonder’s I Wish. It sounds fantastic, another pleasant surprise to end an evening full of them.
© Jennie Macfie, 2010
