In the downstairs bar afterwards the barman asked the
geezer next to me what he thought of the gig. “Half good, half shit,” he
replied. A harsh assessment but one that didn’t require any further
explanation.
Billed as “Evan Dando and Juliana Hatfield” it was
difficult to know what to expect but anyone hoping the reunited pair would mark
the 20th anniversary of The Lemonheads It’s A Shame About Ray by playing the classic album in it’s
entirely were to be disappointed, and I don’t use the term
“classic” lightly; it’s one of those rare start-to-finish brilliant records.
With no fanfare the pair took to the stage. Dando strummed
an acoustic guitar and began “All My Life” from his only solo credited LP, 2003’s
oft-overlooked Baby I’m Bored. When
in shape he has one the greatest country-smoked voices one could wish to hear and
he was in shape. To his left Hatfield played electric and sung back-up but she
was no Emmylou to his Gram; her sharp pitch distracted rather than complimented. Roles
were reversed for her “Butterflies”; back to Dando for a slowed down version of
“Bit Part” the song most closely associated with the pair during their
Lemonheads days thanks to Juliana’s screech of “I just want a bit part in your life!”; and when Hatfield sang her “Choose
Drugs” with the refrain “I say it’s me or
drugs, you choose drugs” it was hard to miss the huge finger of suspicion hovering above her singing partner.
“Confetti” and “Into Your Arms” were again stripped of
their original fizz and bounce but Dando’s songs work however they’re played
and brought his singing to the fore before the Velvet's “Pale Blue
Eyes”.
The songs were shared out equally even before Hatfield
announced they were going to play “ping-pong” and take it in turns with the
other taking a back seat. This created a very uneven contest. Dando, casual and
mellow, picked off his well-loved and familiar tunes (“It’s A Shame About Ray”,
“Being Around”, “My Drug Buddy”) which were greeted warmly like long lost
friends; whilst Hatfield, prickly and neurotic, let in a chilly breeze every
time she opened the door to introduce unwanted guests. How could anyone expect
to follow Dando after he was accompanied by a lady playing a rusty saw to his
masterpiece “Big Gay Heart”? Hatfield’s “My
Sister” did register a flicker of recognition but mostly these were songs few
knew and had little in common with the simple romanticism of Evan’s. Unlike my
drink buddy I didn’t think she was shit, and the audience were generous in
their applause, but no one needed Hughie Green to announce the result of the
clapometer.
When Hatfield mentioned they’d been on “an exhausting
five date UK tour” she countered the laughter with an insistence she was
serious. “Well, I’ve enjoyed it,” was one of the few occasions Dando spoke.
As the evening continued it did in fact become exhausting. The ping-ponging restricted
any momentum; Hatfield became increasingly dreary; and Dando’s preference of
playing all his songs as country ballads didn’t help lift the downbeat mood.
Eventually Hatfield cracked and said something about “you’re the real talent, I’m
gonna go”. It was awkward to watch. Evan Dando is a real talent (she said he never got enough credit because he
was too good looking) but he’s a frustrating one: only two albums of original
material in sixteen years since Car
Button Cloth is a terrible waste. I don’t think I’ve enough fingers to
count Hatfield’s in that same time, not that I’ve listened to them before and have no urge to now. They
finished with Mike Nesmith’s song about travelling to the beat of a different drum.
They sure do.
