There are old friends and there are OLD friends – friends of yesterday but not today. The ones you lost touch with, presumably because you never had that much in common in the first place. The Hull Adelphi on Mondays is one such character. Often it is this “Musicians' night” that beckons you in before you realise other events at 89 De Grey Street offer so much more. You cast Adelphi’s Monday evenings to one side and rarely visit. Last night was one of those days of yore, where you go back to that old friend and it doesn`t disappoint.
We roll into the Adelphi to find Espen on stage creating bass storms, a soundtrack to recent weather: grim and cold on the surface yet strangely beautiful to experience. Lulled by noise created by just one man, you sit and nod your head along.
Thought # 1: Why haven`t I been to Musician’s Night for so long?
Next up, a man clutching what I assume is some kind of Middle Eastern “guitar” with a deep, round bottom – a little internet research suggests it may have been some form of Oud. Then fingers on fire, the man begins to play shifting his digits across the thin neck of the instrument to produce an intense yet light, sultry sound.
Thought # 2: Again, why has it been so long?
Stewie Baxter pops up on stage with a friend (to be honest, he is probably a musician in his own right, but I don`t know his name). Acoustic, finger-picked lament follows as the two guitar players yield and prevail, interacting to rest our minds at ease – not even a broken microphone can detract from this performance.
Thought # 3: Hmm. I don`t remember the standard of Musician’s Night being consistently this high…
Now we have it. A drunken Australian man steps on to the stage with an electric guitar, rambles through a sound check and blasts into a song – partially dedicated to a departed friend. It’s not exactly unpleasant, yet nor is in awe-inspiring as the our performer struts and pulls faces like he is on stage with U2. It is moments like this when you don`t know whether to laugh, cry, or fear him (FEAR HIM). Fortunately, he seems reasonably happy as whips out his second song about Chopper Read (pictured), infamous Australian ex-convict crossed with Walter Mitty. What follows is badly distorted guitar and an omnipresent chorus (“They call him Chopper, fucking Chopper Read”). The audience know not what to do and our man on stage knows not how to react. Eventually, pain ends and after quietly packing his stuff away he is last seen speeding off in his Peugeot 205.
Thought # 4: That’s why. Not knowing whether to patronise with sympathy, howl or cry.
And, finally, our last act of the evening: a man “rapping” and posturing over the top of a fairly nice backing track. He lost me on the line “kids learning mathematics on the street”, I can only assume it was some social commentary on the failure of schools and children who learn arithmetic when they count profits from selling drugs. Or something. Maybe. To be honest, I`d take this performance over the rather lame pop-bitch that is Professor Green. Then again, I`d prefer anything over that urban Joe Pasquale and his habit of resurrecting old tunes, I wish never existed.
So there you have it. The famous Monday “Musicians' Night” at the Adelphi. Like meeting an old friend: awkward, enthralling, and oddly life-affirming. I promise you, it won`t be as long before we meet again.
Also, honourable mention to Jacko and the bar staff for the choice of tunes on offer between acts. There are songs you hear and like, songs don`t know but like, and some you don`t like but feel all the better for hearing.
