Old-fashioned pop star who strikes an irresistible chord
George Ezra Wembley Arena, London
George Ezra is a throwback to an earlier, more innocent pop era. There he stands, a cleancut, handsome young man with a big smile, a big voice and big songs played on something you don’t see a lot of at pop gigs any more. What is that strange thing, grandpa, with a curved body, long neck and strings, hanging on a strap around his shoulders? That, my dear, it is an electric guitar. Hard to believe, but there was a time, not so long ago really, when all pop music used to be made with those.
Even the gleeful relish with which Ezra proclaimed “Good evening, Wembley!” on Thursday evening seemed redolent of another age. The creaky old arena may have had a makeover since the days when it was London’s biggest indoor venue, but it still has all the ambience of an aircraft hangar.
Nevertheless, its dark, characterless space was enlivened by an enthusiastic audience of excited young people, a large proportion female, singing heartily along, waving their arms, and generally having a fantastic time being entertained by an eight-piece band playing bass, drums, keyboards, two guitars, a horn section and lots of backing vocals.
There were no rappers, dancers, or flashy production, just lights and a couple of big screens showing closeups of musicians grinning, gurning and actually playing their instruments. There was no pre-recorded backing track, no digital synth effects. Every instrument sounded like itself. The only weird noises coming from the stage were being made by a trombone, another instrument you don’t hear enough of in pop music anymore. It has such a rich, raw yet somehow almost comically ungainly sound, it can’t help but perk up a song, especially when applied to bouncy ska, rockabilly and country rhythms. Ezra’s band have the spirit of such awkward Eighties heroes as Madness, The Specials and Dexys Midnight Runners, albeit crossed, in the character of their charismatic frontman, with the baby-faced charm and melodic élan of Haircut 100.
The 25-year-old Ezra has had two number one albums in a row, and this year scored his first UK number one single with Shotgun, a typical Ezra anthem. It boasts an almost nursery rhyme singalong lyric and melody, a gimmicky vocal hook, and a mood of optimistic delight.
Ezra’s baritone voice is so big-chested he barely sounds like he needs a microphone. He has a very pure tone, and an almost crooning style, like Bing Crosby crossed with blues shouter Lead Belly. He may have been promoted by his record company to cash in on the busker appeal of Ed Sheeran, but he has none of the acoustic superstar’s hip-hop inflections or reliance on modern loop effects. And, although Ezra favours electric guitars, this is not rock music, though it ventures towards it on a couple of atmospheric belters with thicker, darker arrangements.
His songs have a lightness to them, drawing on arcane Americana forms with a tub-thumping rustic quality. But they have proved so infectiously catchy, and are delivered with such unalloyed joy, that Ezra has defied all musical trends to become a huge star.
Ezra is a reminder that British musicians might do well to resist the homogenisation of ubiquitous American digital R’N’B electronic dance pop trends. Our biggest musical exports to the world over the past decade have been artists who perform beautifully constructed, meaningful songs, delivered with characterful voices. As with Adele and Ed Sheeran, George Ezra’s appeal is so oldfashioned it is effectively timeless.