Gary Lawrence enjoys the music of John Grant, but finds the experience a little too middle class for comfort

  • John Grant
  • O2 Academy Oxford
  • Friday, February 12

I've been to gigs where the crowd resembled violent mobs, blessed out religious fanatics and raucous stag nights but John Grant's throng at the O2 on Friday night was so middle-aged it felt like a late night branch of Waitrose.

This was a crowd familiar with Grant only via the stereo in an expensively-leathered BMW or over the Bang & Olufsen in the drawing room. The pre-show chatter at the bar was all about who was minding the children or the cost of funding the eldest's gap year.

Jaegers were barely bombed, the two pint glass stack remained untroubled and requests for the wine list were met with bemused stares by bar staff used to serving 12 pints a minute.

Many at the bar were anxiously registering the fact the O2 has no seating and began to, politely, jostle for position.

Grant took to the stage after a protracted special effect intro with the demeanour of an angry hipster whose macchiato has been served too cool.

Backed by three singers and a five-piece band that includes former Siouxsie and the Banshees drummer Budgie, he spoke with angry, growly humour about his general disappointment with the world and the stupidity and selfishness of others.

He is not afraid to laugh at himself either.

With keyboards that could have been stolen from a euphoric trance outfit and a chest-poundingly deep base that throbbed across the floor and set many a carefully-ironed jean a quiver, Grant set about his work with intent.

Material from his new album Black Tickles, Grey Pressure (a term for a mid-life crisis in Iceland, his current home) mocks his forgetfulness and a bit of pile trouble.

The audience seemed far more comfortable with older material such as Pale Green Ghosts, Marz and It Doesn't Matter to him, which even drew a singalong from some sections.

The newer material, peppered with electronic funk and synth, prompted far less head bobbing.

The American is a clever, funny and deep thinking performer who knows his audience (he even referenced 70s TV detective, teen fantasy and Pamela Anderson prototype Angie Dickinson) and they loved him for it.

Three albums into his solo career he seems to be at the top of his game.