The Lemonheads
Lemonheads lynchpin Evan Dando could never be mistaken for a showman. That’s not his style, it never has been. Even at the age of 51, he’s the same as he ever was: a slacker with the soul of a romantic poet and the songwriting nous of a country rocker in love with bubblegum, punk and power pop.
From a distance tonight, he even looked the same as he did during his awkward flush with fame in the ‘90s. A grunge-pop pin-up caught in aspic. The same lank curtains of dirty blond hair, the same reluctance to engage with the crowd beyond a few mumbles of thanks before getting on with another snappy burst of pleasingly tuneful, goofy, sensitive no-frills business.
If that sounds like faint praise, then it’s a positively stellar report compared with some of the Dando shows I’ve seen. A notoriously erratic performer, he can be absolutely dreadful on a bad night. This, fortunately, was Dando and his Lemonheads – an ever-shifting group of solid backing musicians – on good form. You can’t argue with the best of his material, most of which he doled out during a practically non-stop performance in which he sang well and remembered nearly all of the lyrics. It was a bittersweet occasion, touching and quite uplifting at times.
Dando is a great songwriter who last recorded an album of original material in 2006. Is he a spent force? It doesn’t really matter. He’s made his mark.