A Momus Show Recollected

I suppose it's probably best to review a live performance of any kind as soon as possible after you have experienced it, but I have been unable to find the time to review the recent Momus gig until today. In fact, I have nothing at all prepared, but thought I would snatch a moment to offer my recollections of the show on the 25th of June, at the George and Dragon, on Hackney Road in London.

Perhaps I should begin by saying that this is not my first Momus gig (somehow 'concert' seems wrong for a one-man show). It is, in fact, the fourth time I have seen Momus perform live. The first occasion was at a club in or near Soho, on the eve of Momus' emigration to America, "Like Oscar Wilde and Morrissey before me", as he styled it at the time. I remember that he played six songs, of which I specifically recall The Lady of Shallot, Tinnitus and The Animal that Desires. The first and second of these were new to me, and impressed me so much that I knew I had to track them down. The performance was over rather too soon, but I very much admired how Momus had managed to create a show full of drama on such a small stage and with such limited resources.

The format of Momus' show at that time has been the same on each occasion I have seen him. The backing tracks are contained on his i-book, and these provide the backdrop to a performance comprised of mime, dance and song. On his blog recently, someone remarked that this sounded rather too much like karaoke to be a satisfying live experience. I suppose the purist in me has had similar objections, but the fact remains that the Momus shows I have attended have seemed much more 'live' to me than many of the guitar-based shows I have seen.

Of the four Momus gigs I have been to, perhaps my favourite was at Bush Hall, in South London. It occurred to me that this was, in fact, the least intimate venue at which I had seen him perform, which prompted me to wonder whether that tingle of excitement at 'live' music does for me correlate with the height of the stage. Does a sense of distance between performer and audience increase anticipation? Perhaps it does. If so, the distance between Momus and his audience seems somewhat variable. All you pop-pickers out there may be familiar with Momus from the single A Complete History of Sexual Jealousy (Parts 17-24), which had some currency on the indie scene back in the 'eighties. I believe that's how the story goes, anyway. I wasn't 'there' at the time. I discovered Momus in his beloved Japan, when a Japanese friend, whose knowledge of British music was greater than my own, introduced me. I simply assumed that this hole in my knowledge of modern music was my own fault, but it seems to be a hole shared by many (that's a rather infelicitous image, and I do apologise). I began to collect, in a haphazard manner, the work of this underrated artist, and before I knew it, I had become a dedicated fan. The name Momus, was, to me, quite as immortal as many other names that exist in my personal constellation of artistic stardom, names such as David Bowie, Kate Bush, Morrissey, Nagai Kafu, H. P. Lovecraft, Mishima Yukio, Celtic Frost, Mervyn Peake, e. e. cummings and, well, many others. So it has been rather surprising for me to discover, in stages, quite how obscure Momus seems to be to the world at large. I suppose it all depends upon where you're standing.

I should point out that I have no intention of suggesting that an artist's worth is only measurable in terms of the kind of fame that distances him or her from those who admire his or her work. I rather feel like questioning why I found the highest stage the most exciting, but I don't know if I will come up with any satisfactory answers in a short, impromptu piece like this.

Well, let's talk about the actual show, shall we?

It was a Sunday. I had managed to hook up with Mr Wu ('Mr Wu' is a pseudonym) so that we could catch the show together. It was a free show, and it was in London. What could be better? It would be a pleasure for me finally to introduce Mr Wu to the Momus world about which I had told him on numerous occasions.

We arrived at the pub with about half an hour to spare, and got the drinks in. It was not a particularly large pub, and I rather wondered how Momus would find space to perform at all, despite what I knew of his ability to make the most of intimate settings. There was no stage, as such, but only a record deck, of the kind used by DJs. Well, eventually the man arrived, and the show began with the spooky build up of I Am Beowulf, in which Momus mimed various kinds of deformity. Mr Wu and I soon found that we had to stand in order to see. There was a strange overlap of environments here (I believe it's called an 'ecotone'). On the one hand we were in a familiar English pub (albeit a slightly eccentrice one), drinking warm English beer and having a chat. On the other we were in the exotic zone of Momus' music. Indeed, Mr Wu was to later remark that when he went to purchase the drinks at the beginning of the show, the young lady serving him watched the proceedings with a surprised and puzzled look as she pulled on the pumps.

Throughout the whole show, I attempted to take photographs, though a mixture of alchohol, the bustle of the audience, and the dim lighting, made it difficult for me take anything that wasn't blurry. I also attempted to keep a record of the songs performed, just in case I wanted to mention them in a review such as this, and also because it would help me to remember the occasion for my own personal sake. Looking at that list now, it also seems to record my growing drunkenness, as the handwriting becomes less and less legible.

I am not much of a drinker, actually, so it's unusual for me to be drunk at a gig. As a result, I'm not sure that my impressions are coherent enough to form a very articulate review. Momus performed seventeen songs in all, at least one of which was an encore, for which I remember shouting loudly. I was familiar with all but three of these songs, and so the experience for me was largely a revisiting of favourite Momus moments, as I was, by now, also familiar with much of the mime and dance routine that went with them.

Since there are many who still have not heard Momus' music, perhaps it would be apropos to attempt a description of what it is like. Unfortunately, that is not an easy thing to do. It is, at least these days, as the reader may have surmised, electronic. It is also very eclectic. Momus writes the wittiest and literary-est lyrics I have ever encountered. He also writes a great deal about sex, as The Penis Song testifies. Maybe I can best give you an idea of what Momus' music is like by explaining why I thought Mr Wu would find it interesting. Mr Wu and I met at university, where we both studied Japanese. When I stayed with Mr Wu in his student dormitory, during our sojourn in Japan, we discovered we had a great deal in common. We both liked T. Rex and David Bowie. We could both quote minutely from Alan Moore comics. We both had an interest in such things as the cult radio show Round the Horne, which made the gay slang known as 'polari' or 'palare' more familiar to, erm, the man in the street (in fact, we discussed in that very pub the origin of the slang term 'naff' as an item of polari vocabularly, apparently being short for 'not available for fucking'). How does one categorise interests such as these? I do not know. If you do, then answers on a postcard, please. Anyway, if you are interested in any of the above, then you might like Momus, too.

Looking at the gig a little through Mr Wu's eyes, I noticed that he laughed loudly at the line in Robin Hood, "This is the tale of Robin Hood… how the guy got shafted", that he very much appreciated the reference to a "sailor suit" in What Are You Wearing? (I believe he described it as "genius"), and put an asterisk next to the song on my set list, and that he also enjoyed the naughtiness of Coming in a Girl's Mouth and The Penis Song. And what could have been better as an encore for Mr Wu than the (unreleased) track I Refuse to Die, which samples George Formby's ukulele, and to which Momus gave us a stunning display of tap-dancing?

Well, having got this far, I rather feel like giving some after gig details, but, actually, I have to get up very early tomorrow. I know, I know, it's a terrible way to end the review. Part of the advantage of the variable distance between artist and audience in this case, however, was that no high stage prevented me from having a pleasant little chat with Momus afterwards. Mr Wu obligingly took pictures. I mentioned to Momus that I read very few things on the Internet, but that his blog was one of the few things I did (it is quite possibly the best blog on the whole web). I also produced my passport to prove my name to another Momus fan who joined the conversation, and who had apparently leant Momus some clothes for the occasion of the gig. I'm afraid I was rather remiss in that, although I was keen to prove my name to her, I drunkenly neglected to ask her name. I remember that she described Momus in terms of a kind of pied piper. And then Mr Wu and I finished up our pints outside. Or as The Sun would have it, your reporters made their excuses and left.

Er… That's it, actually. Well, there's more, but I honestly have to get up early tomorrow. I'm a working lad, you know.