(Morning Star, Wednesday 01 June 2005)
LIVE: Perth Festival Of The Arts
THE Perth Festival, now in its 34th year, has spent the last few of those working on its reputation for bringing together the unusual, the anachronistic and the seemingly downright discordant.
When a festival can draw together such artistically diverse names as Kiri Te Kanawa, Paul Merton and Jackie Leven, you can reasonably label its efforts a success - and there's plenty more where that came
from.
The festival's Tuesday performances see Sir David Frost spending an evening with an antediluvian capacity crowd at the Perth Theatre.
One of Britain's best-known broadcasters, Frost's appeal lies not in whether one buys into his upper-middle-class gentrified drawl and pseudo-intellectual leanings, but, in the story of an amazing life - a life spent working with, meeting and interviewing some of the world's most important thinkers, politicians and comedians.
Unfortunately, Frost appears to be somewhere else this evening.
The guest in the theatre tonight makes little or no reference in the show's first 15 minutes to his former life as host and co-creator of That Was The Week That Was and The Frost Report, where he shared ideas with John Cleese, Ronnie Barker and Ronnie Corbett, not to mention the inimitable Peter Cook.
Frost's opening gambit is to provide his audience with nothing more than a litany of broadcasters' "errors‚" a veritable expose of everyone who's ever made a dumb crack in the public eye and then fearfully remember Private Eye's Colemanballs.
The unintentional irony of Frost's routine is the delivery - for every amusing verbal misstep we are told of, he stumbles over his words, forgets his place and drops pages on the stage, a sign that the once sharp mind of this Methodist minister's son has, perhaps, become blunted over the years.
Frost could offer amazing insights and stories on any of his recent interviewees, numbering the last six US presidents and the last six British prime ministers.
Unfortunately, the genial, after-dinner speaker quality of his show indicates that material of that calibre comes harder than the other kind and so is not of prime concern tonight.
Although for career longevity, Frost far outweighs Joan Armatrading, the singer-songwriter performing at Perth City Hall on Friday, as far as showmanship is concerned, she has the edge.
Releasing her debut album Whatever's For Us in 1972, the Birmingham-raised artist has consistently pleased fans and critics with her eclectic mix of music styles and earnest vocals.
Armatrading's popularity has been assured since her 1976 commercially successful eponymous album, her third long-playing release. The atmosphere in the hall tonight is of the crackling, electric kind.
From the first second of Armatrading's velveteen vocal, no-one is without reaction.
The hall is filled with fans of all ages, mouthing words, clapping and cheering, and Armatrading becomes, just for a moment, every bit as uniquely important as she was in 1972 - one of a handful of black female vocalists with the talent and songs to stand out from the crowd.
As far as musical appreciation goes, few bands have fans more enamoured than Scotland's own Teenage Fanclub.
Rock'n'roll survivors with over 15 years of experience, Norman Blake's folksy pop peddlers air their recent Man-Made album in the artistic surroundings of the Perth City Hall on Saturday.
The Teenage Fanclub secret is a gift that many pop svengalis would kill for - purity of tune and sing a-longability has stood the boys in good stead throughout their career - and the muse gives no indication of deserting them.
Blake's voice beguiles and charms straight off the bat, showcasing harmonies that celebrity Teenage Fanclub fan Kurt Cobain would've died for.
From Traffic-style psychedelic pop to Byrds-esque layered harmonies, Teenage Fanclub are the very definition of the summer sound.
The boys are from the unapologetic "tunes matter" school and it is clearly their strongest asset.
If you like a lot of cheery pop in your music, the night was as good a time as any to join this 'club.
Wednesday, 1 June 2005
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