Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy – Live at Vicar Street

Vicar Street’s full of wage slaves and moneyed ex-hips, most drunk and rowdy. A few in the industry are here too, including (according to Bren) Dan Deacon and Si Schroder. Following an amazing set by Baby Dee, Bonnie “Prince” Billy shambles onto stage with his band. They’re a ramshackle lot, the percussionist looks like a refugee from the Gypsy Kings, the double bassist looks plain bored, I’m sure the guitarist was in Mercury Rev and the violinist seems utterly out of place, given that she’s actually quite attractive. Bonnie “Prince” Billy (appearing as part of the Future Days Festival) himself is dressed all in grubby white, jeans and T, both much too small for him, neither attempting to disguise his paunch. His hair and beard are unkempt, giving the impression of feral 1890′s trailer trash. He’s on form, despite all this, lightening quick with the drunken audience:

Drunken ‘Office’ Drone – I’ve shaved my penis!
Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy – Did you shave it off?

Quick as a snap, an instinctive entertainer he apes and gesticulates wildly, screwing up his face and amazingly agile eyebrows throughout the set. The mic’s about six inches too low for him, so he has to stoop in each time to sing, leaning forward, contorted. He’s in fine voice too. It can often seem, especially on his recorded work, that Bonnie “Prince” Billy is hiding his voice in duets or with layers of backing singers. Whilst these are present tonight, his voice is strong and piercing, close to sharpness, which adds great vulnerability and humour to the performance. Instrumentally the band are tight, especially percussionist Michael Zerang whose instinctive and restrained playing keep the rest on a leash. Although they don’t stray far from the original material, the band’s playing carefully interweaves and counter points the vocal harmonies. Oldhams’ electric guitar is rarely used, and then only to punctuate and accentuate rather than dominate, and the acousticity lends a timelessness and sentimentality to the whole experience.

Emmett Kelly and Jennifer Hutt, playing guitars and violin respectively, sing beautifully. I did Kelly an injustice saying he was in Mercury Rev; he just looks it, but he has a real talent and I would like to see him tour here alone.

The jaunty bombasticism of R Kelly’s ‘The Worlds Greatest‘ takes on a precariousness and aspirational quality, making it a celebration not merely of one man but of all of us. It is in such moments of quiet, when Oldham voice is most clear, the backing music and singing seeming to push him on rather than join him, that the night is at its best. He is so at home on stage: bunny hopping and miming, and yet backs up this knowing irony with real substance, genuine emotion. His penultimate song is a spine tingling rendition of ‘I See A Darkness’. Its a brilliant song anyway, but there, in Vicar Street, wearing clothes too small for him, flip flops and facial hair stolen from a sergeant major in the Boer War, with drunken office workers and the tragic posers, I See A Darkness shines brilliant, turning what could have seemed glib, or fake, to something amazing.