Jonathan Wilson LIVE @ Islington Assembly Hall 4.12.13

Word to the wise, don’t try and get to Highbury & Islington underground station for around 7:30 when Arsenal are playing at home on a weekday night. It’s a nightmare. Also, do what you can to make sure they don’t score early so the latecomers are rushing to make it to the game. Yes, it would seem that the fates, Transport for London and even Nicklas Bendtner were conspiring to make sure I was late to this gig but it’s not often I make it to our nation’s capital though so I was determined to get my fill of the throwback ‘70s rock stylings of Jonathan Wilson.

By the end of the show I was glad I persevered. Wilson’s second record ‘Fanfare’ has been a breath of fresh air this year, yet more evidence of the growing diversity of Bella Union’s output. It has earned the North Carolinian the patronage of several luminaries of the era he homages so lovingly including Jackson Browne, The Band’s Robbie Robertson and Roy Harper who all see a little good old-fashioned songcraft and musicianship in his work.

Wilson took to the stage of the Islington Assembly Hall with his lengthy mane of hair tied back, dressed in jeans, t-shirt and a knee-length cardigan. On anyone else the cardigan may have resembled a middle-aged mum in Primark; on Wilson it immediately recalled Robert Plant. The rockstar double standard, eh? He was backed by a four piece band for the night who performed capably throughout even if they were substitutes for the all-star backing of ‘Fanfare ‘ which featured The Heartbreakers’ Mike Campbell, David Crosby and Graham Nash. Wilson may be good, but he doesn’t have the pull of Tom Petty or David Gilmour to be able to rope in such extraordinary talent every night. Yet.

Beginning with the ballad ‘Lovestrong’ got the set off to an expectedly calm start. The album version’s bright, delicate keys were replaced by soft, watery electric piano, the instrument du jour for groups like The Miles Davis Quartet, Yes and 10cc. The mellow atmosphere was made complete by burning incense, refreshed during the trippy ‘Illumination’.  The next song ‘Fazon’, a cover of a tune by the long-forgotten Sopwith Camel, featured fantastic organ fills and solos worthy of Procul Harum’s Gary Brooker which was followed by ‘Desert Raven’, its duelling guitars showing off shades of the Eagles at their peak.

‘Dear Friend’ followed, which for many including myself served as the introduction to Wilson’s music. It’s a gorgeous, twinkling waltz-time tune which breaks into a dazzling wah-wah wigout around the two-minute mark which tonight was extended into a solo of epic proportions. I surprised that when the song was announced there was such a muted response but was unsurprised when its finish got the loudest cheer of the night. New single, the upbeat, Dylan-esque ‘Love to Love’ got a similar reception and was perfectly timed to lift the set out of mid-tempo jams.

Kicking off his shoes and handed his Strat, Wilson was really in the flow for the next portion of the show. ‘Can We Really Party Today’ from his first album, 2011’s ‘Gentle Spirit’ was lively and really got the crowd going. Sadly, a rendition of the same album’s ‘Magic Everywhere’ proved listless and signalled the point that too many lazy Pink Floyd-isms started to enter into the band’s performance. Soon, extended outros worthy of Emerson, Lake & Palmer started to feel less eventful and more wearisome. Busting out the harmonica and cribbing portions of Neil Young’s extensive songbook for ‘Moses Pain’ and ‘Ballad of the Pines’ went down well but by then it was too late to regain the full attention of the audience.

Jonathan Wilson and his band delivered a terrific set in thrall to the 1970s with more fully-formed songs than is really fair for a man with only two full-lengths to his name so far. With bands everywhere scouring their parents’ record collections for which sounds of the ‘80s, ‘90s and even early 2000s they can rip off, a little ‘70s revivalism is warmly received on a cold night in North London. A great evening’s entertainment.

Elliott Homer
Elliott Homer is an undisputed master of understatement, a black belt holder in mixed metaphors and long-time deserving of some such award for length of time spent chatting rubbish about music down the pub. Studies show prolonged exposure to his scribblings can cause migraines, hysterical pregnancy, night terrors and/or acne, yet seldom encourages readers to agree with the author, in fact quite the reverse, much to his eternal frustration.