Comedy
An idyllic setting for some extreme karaoke
Published 21 August 2008
One of the more ludicrous modern clichés is that comedy is "the new rock'n'roll". But in my experience, if you put on a comedian at a rock gig, the crowd tend to react rather badly
Over the past two decades one of the more ludicrous clichés created by the prevailing zeitgeist is that comedy is "the new rock'n'roll". I find this a little difficult to swallow, as these days comedy is barely the new comedy. But the two have always been enthusiastic, if uneasy, bedfellows. In my experience, if you have a rock gig and you put on a comedian, the crowd tend to react rather badly. They are there to dance, sing and carouse, and care little for the atmosphere-sapping whimsy of stand-up. Conversely, if you have a comedy gig and put a band on, the crowd burst into life - or take advantage of the noise and distraction to go to the lav.
The reason I bring this up is that earlier this year I was asked to take part in some gigs put together by Jasper Carrott, under the moniker Rock with Laughter. Very much doing what it says on the tin, it's an evening of bands and comics in the grounds of various country houses around the UK. The punters pitch up and set themselves in front of the large, outdoor stage. They bring picnic hampers, booze, blankets - and huge quantities of optimism, bearing in mind the ludicrously unpredictable climate we currently seem to be enduring.
Rather than a stand-up routine - something I haven't done for six years - I suggested one of my performing sidelines, which is as part-time vocalist for the late Ian Dury's extraordinary band, the Blockheads. Alongside one of Ian's old mates, Del the Draw, I get to sing some of the greatest lyrics in the history of British pop music. For me, it's not too much of a stretch, as I used to go and see the band regularly from the late 1970s onwards and would sing all the words anyway. So I'm doing much the same thing, except now I've got a better view but can't wander off to the bar halfway through a song. Try to think of it as extreme karaoke.
Playing the likes of Lowestoft's Somerleyton Hall proved a somewhat different experience from the standard rock gig. Usually you arrive around teatime, set up and sound-check, then nip up the road for a curry before going on stage around 10pm for a hopefully blistering two hours. Here, we had to pitch up mid-afternoon and were on stage just after eight; being on a busy variety bill means a 20-minute set, so we were all back in the van by quarter to nine. Also, you don't, on the whole, see many deckchairs in the audience at the Shepherd's Bush Empire.
Sex and drugs and rock'n'roll
Then there was the thorny issue of the set list. With it being a "family" audience, it was assumed that "Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll" might be slightly inappropriate, so we ran it by the promoter. We got a green light to perform this defining anthem of excess, so the set was "Sex and Drugs", "What a Waste", "Reasons to Be Cheerful" and "Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick". I know that doesn't seem like many songs, but you have to understand that the Blockheads are proper musos with a primal urge to improvise. And I like the instrumental bits becaus e it gives me the chance to watch these astonishing old men at work.
The evening starts with Lenny Henry warming up the crowd by singing a very funny blues pastiche. Then the first band out of the traps are the Manfreds, who benefit from the vocal stylings of both Mike D'Abo and Paul Jones. It's another short, greatest-hits set: "5-4-3-2-1", "Pretty Flamingo", "Ha Ha Said the Clown". It was a little weird hearing songs I was so familiar with from my childhood being performed live 40 years after they were hits for Manfred Mann; some of the younger members of the audience might feel that way about "Rhythm Stick", I suppose.
Jo Brand then delivered a fantastic set with her take on life and some laser-sharp gags. As she wandered off stage, she leaned into me: "Are you doing 'Billericay Dickie'?" When I said no, she responded with a blunt, Dury-esque "bollocks". Then it was our turn, and we shot through the brief set - we'd barely got warmed up before it was over. Thank you and goodnight.
The large and lively audience seemed to really enjoy it, with the adventurous legging it down the front for a dance, while the more sedate remained in their deckchairs. Those who had never witnessed a gig al fresco before no doubt sat there sipping Pinot thinking it was all very Glastonbury. It wasn't.
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