Duke Special - The Stage, A Book and The Silver Screen (Album)

Duke Special has always been a curiously enigmatic prospect. His live performances are usually joyous affairs, often seeing his flouncy vaudevillian antics accompanied by maniacal cheese-grater wielding percussionist Chip Bailey. One strength he constantly displays is to make each show seem like a one-off, as opposed to the identikit sets occasionally yawned out by some other perma-touring artists. However, he has always been faced with the dillemma of how to communicate the eccentric charm of his live shows on record, a feat he has yet to fully accomplish really. His previous album I Never Thought This Day Would Come was a classic case in point. The record was so polished that the set of jaunty piano singalongs came out limper than their quality deserved. Nowadays, finding himself free of the big label constraints which presumably played a big part in this, Duke is going it alone for a laudably ambitious project. The Stage, A Book And The Silver Screen comprises two concept albums, as well as a concept EP.

The first disc, The Silent World of Hector Mann is a collection of songs inspired by Paul Auster's The Book of Illusions, which features silent film star Mann. Special sent a copy of each of each of Mann's twelve films to a different Irish artist with a brief to pen a pre-rock and roll style song about each, which he would then record himself. The result, in spite of the slightly disparate elements is surprisingly cohesive and massively enjoyable. By far the strongest piece on the record is Neil Hannon's, 'Wanda, Darling of the Jockey Club', which tells the story of a bumbling waiter's infatuation with a female pilot. Hannon's wit, a playful piano line and the cheery warmth of Special's delivery mingle perfectly to produce one of the best morsels of pop either artist has ever been attached to.

The theme of the oafish suitor pursuing a woman who is way out of his league is a common one on the record, continued more directly but no less charmingly on 'Country Weekend', this time featuring "just a chauffeur who really hopes for the honour of his passenger's hand". This would appear to be a common component of Mann's films, as was the idea of the loveable rogue, a subject covered on the Thomas Truax's ludicrously bouncy 'The Prop Man', an almost slapstick song about a thieving film staffer. The silly fun displayed here is an example of how with this record Special has gone the furthest distance yet towards capturing the merry spontanaeity of his live shows.

Disc two, the Huckleberry Finn EP, is a suite of songs written by Kurt Weill, originally intended for a musical which was left unfinished when Weill died. Where Silent World played up to Special's penchant for quirky piano pop, Huckleberry Finn adds a touch more grandeur. The songs are laced with strings and splashed with brass, but the slightly bigger sound does not make it any less playful. The record might only be a touch over a quarter of an hour, but there's still a lot to savour, from the swaying, swooning, 'Chantry River' to the flamboyantly catchy 'Apple Jack'. It is the EP's closer, 'Catfish Song' which steals the show though, a darling little duet which apes an interchange between Tom 'n' Huck.

While Huckleberry Finn sounds richer than the mischievous sounds on Silent World, it is Mother Courage and Her Children which really encapsulates the depth of ambition of Duke Special's mammoth project. The final disc is a collection of studio recordings of songs from Bertold Brecht's anti-war play of the same name, to which Special contributed music for a recent run at London's Royal National Theatre. The sizeable arrangements are probably to be expected given the context, but what you might not expect is that an artist who a mere disc or two ago was chirruping cheerfully about clumsy waiters can comfortably turn his hand to lines like "We hated the soldiers / Their army took our town / I was sixteen / The foreign occupier grinned as he loosened my nightgown". His voice is powerful and soulful enough not to be lost amid the soaring orchestral backing, something which is exhibited best in 'Mother Courage' and its reprise which closes the album.

The subject matter may be dark, but sometimes you have to listen carefully to realise this is the case. The powerful arrangements lift the tone, adding an occasional air of triumph to the grimness. So too do Special's piano melodies, particularly the driving, forceful 'The Great Capitulation', a common thread which links together all three elements of The Stage, A Book, And The Silver Screen.

With this collection, Duke Special has escaped from the confines of the conventional, and it has clearly done him the world of the good. Each of the three records are hugely enjoyable standalone pieces, but as a trio they serve to illustrate his limitless ambition, versatility and skill with a melody. Lord knows what else is lurking in that eccentric brain of his, but here's hoping his future projects are as gloriously outlandish as this.

The Silent World of Hector Mann - 8
Huckleberry Finn - 7
Mother Courage and Her Children - 8

Duke Special - Northumbria University Stage Two - 1/5/09 (Gig)

Casting my mind back into the hazy reaches of my student days, I recall Northumbria University’s Stage Two as the scene of most of my formative gig experiences. Many of 2002’s indie all-stars/also-rans got their claws into me there, including the likes of Seafood, My Vitriol, Easyworld and The Cooper Temple Clause. These days, since Carling (and subsequently O2) planted their flag in Newcastle’s indie scene with the Academy, I’m sad to say I barely manage to get to Northumbria once a year.

So, with the friendly curse of nostalgia already on my mind, it is perhaps fitting that tonight’s visit there was to see Duke Special, an artist as familiar to me as a pair of comfy old slippers. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen him, but it must be rapidly approaching double figures.

And in those few years since I first saw him, I’ve seen him develop from a fabulously ragtag vaudevillian into a far more rounded showman, able to command the complete attention of every member of his perpetually-increasing audience.

Upon Duke’s arrival on stage tonight, I must confess I feared that this growing stature had started to have an adverse affect on his unique stage shows. For you see, he was not accompanied by Chip Bailey, his percussion genius, the loveable lunatic whose inventory includes cheese graters and whisks. Instead, for the first time I can recall, Duke was followed out by a conventional band, with a drummer, guitarist and bassist (albeit a double bass).

By worrying that this set-up meant that he was pandering to the masses, however, I did the Duke a great disservice. As ever, his performance was completely captivating and the slightly more traditional band arrangement augmented, rather than diluted his fantastic catchy melodies.

What we are dealing with in Duke Special is one of pop’s last great eccentrics. A soft-spoken, dreadlocked man from Belfast who sips red wine on stage and takes most of his backing samples from a record player which sits atop his piano. A man who recently recorded a live EP directly to vinyl and distributed them straight after the show (apparently making him the first to do this in over thirty years). And someone whose most recent project is a collection of songs based on the 12 films of obscure ‘20s film star Hector Mann.

Three of these songs were played tonight, and the standout was ‘The Jockey Club (A Bitch Called Wanda)’ a typically jaunty, witty song, which tells the tale of a waiter in an exclusive California club. He falls for a champion female pilot who visits the club, and, of course ends up getting the girl, fulfilling his wish for “crazy day trips, with my darling aviatrix”.

The rest of the show was a trawl through Duke’s burgeoning back catalogue, veering from the piano-hammering crowd-pleasers such as ‘Salvation Tambourine’ and ‘Last Night I Nearly Died’ to the arguably more substantial and fulfilling recent songs like ‘I Never Thought This Day Would Come (But Now it Won’t Go Away)’. There were plenty of tear-jerking moments too, none more so than the stark performance of ‘Why Does Anybody Love At All?’

Towards the end Duke, ever the collaborative spirit, invited the wonderful support act Foreign Slippers to join him and the band. Her incredible voice, with its capability to pin you to the floor in the same way as the likes of Martha Wainwright and Joan Wasser adorned ‘Freewheel’. It was one of the highlights of the show, as her singing almost put even the Duke’s honeyed tones to shame.

One thing Duke Special is always going to struggle with is capturing the feel of his live shows on record. His gigs are more than the sum of their parts, because he and his various associates are able to create a certain special mood that I‘ve yet to experience from another artist. He’s able to make his audience feel that every show is a one-off experience, which is incredible considering how frequently he tours.

This point was exemplified by the way the gig ended tonight. Rather than the traditional encore and goodnight, the band decided to pitch right out into the middle of the crowd (double bass and all, but thankfully with spoons replacing drums). They then sat us down, and engaged the whole room in a singalong sea shanty. This finished the evening on an appropriately high note, sending everyone off into the night with a smile, which is the only expression it is possible to wear on leaving a Duke Special show.