It's a dismal Wednesday night in Cork. The journey up to the metropolis has been a slog through driving rain and looming fog and rarely has your reviewer experienced the city centre so devoid of people. Even the hardy city people have voted with their feet tonight, and sadly the Lobby itself is sparsely attended.
All of which would be an ominous prognosis if we were here for a lesser band than CLAYHILL. However, Gavin Clark, Ted Barnes and Ali Friend are wily, experienced campaigners who have been through the mill a few times and know they're onto a good thing with their new project. Thus, they're unfazed by the disappointing turnout and instead concentrate on turning in a set which is truly inspirational.
Your reviewer has been playing Clayhill's debut mini-LP "Cuban Green" to within inches of its' life over the past few months, yet even devoid of the drums, strings, horns and lush textures, this stripped-down acoustic version featuring the core trio of members works beautifully, with the band standing in close proximity to each other and keeping the lines of communication open at all times.
The first half of the set concentrates on "Cuban Green." They open with a gorgeous, resolutely Eastern-sounding "Figure Of Eight"; follow it up with the brittle, autumnal mystery of "Face Of The Sun" and again usurp this with "Grass Cutter." This latter is, admittedly, perhaps the most anthemic track on the record (and quite probably the only pop tune inspired by a Peruvian gardener who cuts his lawn with nail scissors, as Ali tells us), but even without the full band treatment, it packs a decent sized clout, with Ted and Ali getting behind the groove and Gavin pushing his vocal out from the gut.
Gavin has a naturally compelling presence. Tousle-haired and shy, he just stands there - often with his arms folded and his attention seemingly drifting - and yet as soon as he opens his mouth, all kinds of wonders ensue. Rich, dark and haunting, he delivers lines of magnificent introspection like "Watching you move is like watching a bird unfold" ("Figure Of Eight") and "September breeze, blew me a cold dream" ("Face Of The Sun") and simply captivates in the way only the great, unlikely mavericks (see also Mark Hollis and Paul Buchanan) can. Seemingly without trying.
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The set continues to take in choice selections from the forthcoming debut album proper, "Small Circle." Your reviewer's still new to these, but certainly the likes of "Rushes Of Blonde" and "Mystery Train" unfold slowly and mesmerically, while "Alpha Male" connects instantly. It's absolutely made by Ted's percussive guitar work, while Ali's lithe double bass fills the spaces graphically and Gavin weighs in with a typically sardonic lyric. This one and the new single "Northern Soul" immediately stand out as classics-in-waiting, and this latter is by some way Clayhill's most direct, storming pop moment thus far.
Ted jokily informs us they've worked up a cover of a Smiths tune because of an interview he did where he was asked "Paul Weller or Morrissey? Who would I choose? Neither....but I do really like this song, so we worked it up." It's "Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want", and while messing with a song from such a hallowed back catalogue is potentially dodgy, their slowed-down, poignant version scores handsomely. If only it could have made the recent "How Soon Is Now?" compilation.
No matter. We receive it rapturously, and by the time the band have downed tools and are about to leave they're beaming. Considering the potential for disaster here, it's quite a result. But then this is the kind of night that sorts the wheat from the chaff and with the quality Clayhill have at their fingertips, it's no surprise they can come through and treat us to a magical hour in their presence we won't forget for a very long time.
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