GIGARAMA…
GIGARAMA…
Episode 8: Full Frontal Nudity…
| When: | Thursday, 12th June 2003 |
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| Where: | The Arcadia Café, Belfarce, NornIrond. |
| Set List: |
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| Personnel | ||
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| DAVID: | ||
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| Sound by Ciaran McNamee | ||
This gig is available to purchase on DVD from the Pyrococcal Records website.
Lo-fi previews are available on You Tube
Due to the power of minidisc lapel-mic bootleg recording, we hereby bring ewe two clips from the show: the werld première of Tiny Minds (dedicated to Kirsty Cat), and the final encore of Animal Daydreams. (ewe will need Real Player)
Snaps by JenniferLoveWabsnazm , Rudedoodle & Mr Mariano…
It was lahvly.
So much forI can’t really play the piano. I bet you were the sort of b*stard who turned up for exams claiming youhadn’t done any revision—seriouslybefore coming tap. Tosser ;)
—T.Entertainment
David Davis is serenaded for simply bothering to turn up at Valid.pop, and receives a standing ovation for a set that leaves us to the night with all the bittersweet grace of an F.Scott Fitzgerald ending. The feline one’s piano recital more than justifies the special place he hold’s in his fans hearts. He has his flaws, but Davis makes them hard to remember.
…despite his none-more-black sartorial chic, David Davis cannot help but shine in glorious technicolour. His opener crashes in with the brash glamour of Virginia Plain, People Without Pets jumps several degrees of separation to Pinball Wizard and My Valerian finally transcends its pastiche of the Manic’s So Why So Sad to fulfill its perfect pop potential.
Still, for all the frantic Johnny Fingers keybashing, it’s the ballads that take the breath away, and an extrordinary torch song trilogy that demands re-evaluation of the Feline Dream canon. ‘Oh such tiny needles bring me down,’ the plaintive chorus of Deep Inside and Lonely, echoes across bedsit land, as eloquent a lamentation as Suede’s The Living Dead. Stripped and cold on piano, Lull is removed from any given Saturday night closing time in Carryduff and left alone amongst the detritus of a New York ballroom at 3am on New Year’s Day. Exposed and vulnerable, At A Standstill delivers the mortal blow. Davis may exchange wisecracks with the audiece between songs, but the poignant conviction with which he delivers ‘You’ll never make it on your own’ is heartbreaking.
It’s not a superlative performance, or beyond criticism. Sometimes the vocal seems overstretched in the absence of support from Davis’s collaborator Nick Carlisle, and it’s obvious that we’re only watching half a band. A Different Story is a cloying sub-Bernstein musical set-piece, and the adaption to piano of Florian und Magalie is somewhat disappointing: where one might have expected the vocal melody to be supported by impressionistic impasto, instead we are hassled by hectic and uniform eighths. But this is nitpicking. David Davis is maturing as poet of loneliness and will never be so smug or afraid to hide behind affected quirkiness rather than attempt to connect with his audience at a meaningful emotional level. ‘You have one life,’ the encore Animal Daydreams usefully observes, and it’s too short to waste listening to buskers and hacks.
— JenniferLoveWabsnazm, Alternative Ulster magazine, Issue 02.
In an intimate atmosphere playing to the few and the good, you can really tell whether an artist is really worth his melt. In Lower Donegall Street’s Arcadia Café last week, a small and one-off acoustic set was played by Boho’s very own Martin Corrigan, of the now infamous Kerrang photo shoot on Lough Erne bollock naked, and one half of Feline Dream David Davis—known on Fastfude as one of the most opinionated men on the planet with a self-confessed penchant for rebutting foul internet spam.
Both players couldn’t be further away from each other in terms of style and skill but it was a real treat to see Martin thump out his unique vibe on the gee-tar while David belted out some playful and some seriously introspective melodies on the piano.
Corrigan the band and their album How To Hang Off A Rope have received some major reviews recently from the likes of NME and Hotpress and it was with interest that I wanted to hear Martin minus the five support band members, play to a small audience. Stool in place, and guitar at the ready, the crowd was wowed to a rhapsody of punk poetry. Pure and soulful and deviating only slightly from original material with a cool rendition of a John Prine number, Martin warmly submerged the crowd in music before Feline Dream played the night out in piano rhythms that syncopated and writhed in tandem with the artiste. I love piano music of any kind to be honest and it was a real treat to hear an accomplished player tap to a different beat without degenerating into a jazz horror show.
Thunderous claps all round for both. Right venue, right amount of people and bags of talent not to mention a superb bottle of Italian chianti helped to contribute to the night’s success too. For an evening of entertainment, there’s not much more you can hope for is there?
—Aine McEntee