THE SOFT BOYS' landmark 1980 album "Underwater Moonlight" is a classic example of the strange, circuitous route a record can take in achieving major cult stardom long after the fact.
That Robyn Hitchcock and co should finally decide to follow it up with 2002's almost-as-fabulous "Nextdoorland" as though you wouldn't notice the join is just one of the Soft Boys' many attractively mystifying qualities and one of the myriad reasons why an evening in the company of these surreally distinguished gentlemen feels such a privelege.
Tonight's crowd is a healthy mix of the initiated and the plainly curious, but needless to say no-one goes home disappointed after an hour and a half of the rich and unsettling psych-pop that Cambridge's finest have carved out in their own image.
Because, make no mistake, the Soft Boys - despite the name and the continuing Byrds comparisons thanks to "Queen Of Eyes" (chiming and lovely tonight) - are a far fiercer and intense proposition than most people give them credit for. Indeed, most of Hitchcock's engaging stage patter (when he's not dealing with measuring babies and the Japanese aversion to dairy products, natch) concerns one George Dubya Bush. Though I'll leave to your imagination what Robyn suggests should happen to him and Condoleeza Rice.
This intensity often spills over into the music, too. It's in the whiplash fury of "Insanely Jealous" ("all I hear when they embrace is just the kiss of skulls") or the would-be stalker anthem "Tonight" (pitched just right) and the chaotic energy of "greatest flop" "I Wanna Destroy You": tonight adrenalised with extra machine-gunning ire.
Which isn't to say entertainment isn't paramount, either. "Underwater Moonlight"s sleevenotes suggest Robyn was even a chatty baby and he could certainly talk the hind legs off a donkey. This tall and fascinating man never fails to hold the attention, while Hitchcock and guitarist Kimberley Rew's so-ghastly-they're-great paisley shirts are the epitome of the Soft Boys hearts-on-sleeves attitude.
The playing is a revelation throughout. Bassist Matthew Seligman stays (mostly) rooted stage right, casually knocking out the most incredible high-end runs and apparently re-tuning while he plays! Drummer Morris Windsor is a stalwart behind the kit and adds crucial backing vocals to the amusing "He's A Reptile" and the glorious, janglesome "Where Angels Hover."
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And as for the Rew-Hitchcock interplay? Wow! This writer had previously assumed Rew played all the tricky stuff, but not so. Tonight, they duel like prime period Verlaine and Lloyd during the longer workouts like "Mr.Kennedy", the haunting "My Mind Is Connected to..." and a mind-blowing "Underwater Moonlight" that closes the main set to gasps of amazement. Rew especially excels during these moments, twitching like a rock'n'roll Magnus Pyke riding bolts of lightning hammered out by Windsor behind him. In this scenario, it's hard to imagine him as the architect behind (cough!) Katrina & The Waves.
We've already been spoilt, so the generous five encores are just the tastiest icing on the cake. By the time they eventually sign off with a lovely faithful ramble through Dylan's "Stuck Inside Of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again" ("far better than Dylan ever does it these days" - the tall man does not lie!), our collective cup overfloweth and we reluctantly exit, safe in the knowledge that after only (yikes!) 23 days, we've already witnessed one of the gigs of the year.
That Robyn Hitchcock's songwriting has always encompassed the best of the 4Bs (that's Barrett, Beach Boys, Beatles and Beefheart for the uninitiated) has never been in doubt, but with The Soft Boys he realises his vivid pop dreamscapes most brilliantly of all. To be in his company tonight was indeed a privelege and something actually deserving of the epithet 'legedary.'
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