There’s something wonderfully late 60s/early 70s about JAMES YORKSTON. His principal traits - the rueful songs, an uncultivated ordinariness, showbiz-deflationary patter and a sharp self-deprecating wit, in those wide-eyed days, were the lifeblood of folk clubs, community halls, arts centres, festivals and small venues.
But he is no more a “folk singer” than ROY HARPER or JOHN MARTYN ever were. Or JOSH WHITE or LEADBELLY, come to that. Yes, he treated us to a fine version of the magnificent “Lowlands” tonight. And that’s a folk song and a half. But what he and those other artists share is a sophisticated understanding of popular/vernacular music and of the importance of songs (as opposed to tunes or genres) in popular culture.
YORKSTON joked, as he does, about brushes with more “famous” artists like LILLY ALLEN and THE ARCTIC MONKEYS. But he also pulled a stunt that gently and unobtrusively (perhaps unintentionally) revealed his far more astute awareness of the ways that contemporary messages are carried.
This tour, he confided, was to support the release of his forthcoming EP. But he couldn’t play the title track because, he said, “it has electronic stuff”. He didn’t name the song, but he did pick a couple of harmonics on the guitar as he spoke and everyone in the audience immediately recognised the opening notes from the delicious monologue “Woozy With Cider” that’s due for release on EP sometime soon. We had all heard the mix on MySpace, of course, and it is on the last album with The Athletes: “The Year of the Leopard” (enthusiastically reviewed here last year).
The hour and a quarter of solo music (no Athletes till London) covered the three album range, and (for me) dwelt lovingly on “Surf Song”, Tender To the Blues”, and “As Steady as She Goes”. Fussing with a harmonica, or swaying to his very distinctive finger-picking guitar sound (strong thumb) YORKSTON does more than enough to hold the room silent, attentive and emotionally moved. The romances, the gentle eroticism and sad goodbyes of the songs are the universals we all share, made real by YORKSTON’s touching confessional detail. He adds a delicate sense of place and landscape.
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His trademark giggles, interruptions, lyric changes and tangents ought to break the spell. But they don’t. Like good folksongs, the emotional stories carry their own gravity, and even the performer would have to do fairly extensive demolition work to break their hold.
The audience embody the same individualism and cultural nonchalance. YORKSTON jokes about his own golfing jumper and plump gingerness. A young woman sits cross-legged on the edge of the low stage making sketches in a small notebook. Mercifully very few phonetographers have turned up. A section of the audience sit contended on the sticky floor while some enthusiastic drinkers offer poor jokes for YORKSTON to field and toss effortlessly back. It’s nicely raggle-taggle. The man has earned his fee, and his audiecne, and he has reminded us of the new EP and a forthcoming album of “B-sides”.
Tonight’s support was from NANCY ELIZABETH CUNLIFFE, whose delightful music can be investigated via at www.myspace.com/nancyelizabethcunliffe
www.myspace.com/jamesyorkston
PS Apologetically announcing "no encore tonight" James promised us a lunar eclipse instead. The whole of Leeds was impressed.
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