Stephen Cummings @ The Deluxe,Adelaide (27/03/11)

Mon 28th Feb, 2011 in Gig Reviews

I have little understanding of whether Stephen Cummings is a strange, vagued-out, kooky, misfit with moments of lucidity, whether he was just mightily stoned or whether he was something else entirely. This ‘impression’ was once uncomfortable, but now feels somewhat explanatory. I have rarely seen a gig such as this in which what was a little wayward, simple, silly, raw and even childish actually made up for, and excused what was silly, raw and even a little childish. Exactly what made the show unprofessional, and to be honest less than inspiring was his bizarre and slightly unattractive, yet ingratiating stage-presence. The night was filled with instrumental fuck-ups, poor playing, great singing, some lovely songs, thoughtful if rudimentary story telling and a, well fringy vibe.

His stage set up was simple, distilled down to the bare essentials: A microphone, a guitar that didn’t need retuning and two milk crates to sit on. Waiting outside the ‘Deluxe’ Theatre we were allowed entry about 15 minutes late. Taking quite a pleasurable viewing position the crowd around us seemed to be those ‘festival going kinds’ that opt for water more often than any form of alcoholic beverage. This wasn’t surprising. He came on stage swiftly, anyway. Cummings has a long career of quite consistent musical output to draw upon and his appearance showed it. Wearing a grandpa hat, a short-sleeved shirt, some over-sized suit pants, and what seemed like a pair of Grosby’s on his feet he cycled through his relatively simple songs, straining to check his fretting hand between every lyric. In fact this was the flaw that affected him the most: his constant need to look at his fret board to ensure what were relatively simple chord changes transitioned correctly. He’s no guitarist but his choice to play solo leaves him with bad microphone technique as his lovely voice is often projected away from the microphone. All this gives an impression of strain, when really; his often gentle songs deserve more natural emotion or occasionally a more breezy execution. Maybe his guitar playing abilities were affected by what could potentially have been extreme wastedness on this singular occasions.

There was something earnest in his foppy, effeminate ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude though. Some jokes between songs seemed well-rehearsed, even if in possession of a less-than-humorous punch line, while some of his stories seemed to be going in a funny direction that just ambled off into the ether, lacking any defined structure. If he played for over an hour, he spent most of that time talking. I honestly got the impression he wasn’t capable of playing a large portion of his discography. But this wasn’t a significant issue. When he did get it right (and even when he got it wrong) he was charming in his minor-key arrogance and a little alluring in his wilfulness. The mix between apparent lauded songwriter, juvenile aloofness, potential wastedness and general imperfection made little sense, and as therefore by definition, a genuine fringe show.

I could list off a few songs, none of which I knew of in any great detail before seeing the man, but I can confirm that there were no Sports songs I recognised and he knocked back the majority of requests the crowd threw at him… even though he requested the crowd to request. He comes to Adelaide once a year, usually for The Fringe. So I suggest checking him out, if only to understand, disprove, confirm or just further investigate this strange dichotomy. Is it prevalent all the time? Is it confined to the stage? Is it just him? It was a nice night, just confusing. The advertisement says ‘unhinged’ and the show is called ‘Autism as a Metaphor’. You tell me.