Wooden Wand | Hoxton Underbelly, London | 26 April 2013

At last a chance to see MM’s most blogged about artist, the wonderful Wooden Wand, whose excellent latest releases Blood Oaths Of The New Blues and The Briarwood Virgins are just the most recent examples from his extensive catalogue of idiosyncratic Americana mixing stripped back folk, alt-country, psychedelia and sprawling indie rock.

The venue was (as a late switch from the scheduled Water Rats) the Underbelly in London’s oh-so-trendy Hoxton Square, spilling over with look-at-mes and look-at-thems clutching tiny bottles of imported lager. Innocently travelling down from own rural idyll, it was clear that a plaid shirt and a bottle of cider wasn’t really cutting the mustard for these cool cats. No matter, downstairs the chatter of the desperate-to-impress was at fever pitch, but there was the welcome refuge of a full MM contingent already in attendance, and at least Dr Roddy was making me look good.

Enter the man and his band. A few whoops, some applause, I waited for the hum to die down. They tuned up, and started to play. Next to us the office party group didn’t look once at the stage, they just adjusted their volume…up. Shouting even louder to make themselves heard, they were oblivious to the music other than as another noise to overcome with their own, and all around me it was the same.

It was clear that Wooden Wand or no Wooden Wand, a good proportion of the “audience” seemed to be regulars, oblivious to what was happening musically other than as a minor irritation. For me, and the MM clan, they in turn were a major irritation. Not helped by a weak, slightly muddy sound the only way of knowing one of America’s finest, most original, latter day wandering minstrels was on stage was by virtually joining him up there.

Manfully struggling to the front to join the rest of a similarly frustrated audience that knew what they were there for, it was at least a pleasure to watch him and his band deliver a set of highlights that included Scorpion Glow, Wither Away, Passin’ Thru and a majestic Winter In Kentucky before closing with the outstanding Servant To Blues.

They exited stage left, around me the crowd cheered. Behind me the Friday night crew chatted on shiny eyed and vacuous and supremely ignorant of what they’d just missed…or perhaps just supremely ignorant.

Don’t look-at-me or look-at-them, look at him. And more importantly listen to him.

Oh, and a gig at the Underbelly – don’t bother.

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