Gig Report: Kate Nash

Date: Monday 5 November, 9.30pm
Venue: Manchester Academy 1
Face Value: £10.00
Support Act: something that sounded like vinyl being tortured
Gig buddy: Phil

This gig report should really be titled: Why I have the Best Boyfriend In The World. See, it's not often that you find a gig buddy that will willingly go along to anything you buy tickets for. The jazz trombone performance and Lily Allen show both notable examples, but a grown man appeasing you by attending a Kate Nash concert is something else - this is equivalent of sitting through 5 episodes of Sex And The City, Sleepless in Seattle and Gone With the Wind all while you test out your nail polish on him. But as it turned out, his commitment went much deeper.... here's what happened.

We enter the temporary Academy 1 (the actual one I am told is being re-furbed) and it's immediately clear we are the oldest people in here. By a long way. The kids are wearing t-shirts using the word 'gay' like they've only just realised that the word has another meaning. (I remember our primary school song had us all singing how gay we were until the mid 80's.) The support act on stage are screeching unintelligibly while their guitars sound more like a cat stuck in a combine harvester - a very strange warm-up for a plinky-plonky pianist. Enough said. We queue at the bar/moshpit for a LONG time while the grossly incompetant teenage staff form their own queue on the other side to all use the same till. Phil gets to the front first and buys me two drinks so I don't have to endure it again in 20 minutes time.

The build up to Kate's set is painfully theatrical - way over the top for what's about to come. She enters the stage to sit at her velvet-clad digital stage piano, her broad smile exciting the glo-stick waving lookalikes that are EVERYWHERE. And then she kicks off with Mariella, which is (almost) too awful for words. The MEN have described it as 'minor technical problems', which is being very very kind. The piercing feedback remained for most of the first track while the guy on the sound desk tried everything including switching Kate's microphone off to trace the offending frequency. Eventually he succeeded, though his lack of mixing skills were now obvious. Remembering our troubles stage-right at the Polly Paulusma gig, I decided to relocate us to a more favourable position, such was the poor quality of sound. It didn't make a scrap of difference though - and it left me wondering whether it was the venue, until Phil reminded me that we have seen Dave Matthews and Mika here who both sounded amazing.

So, sound issues aside, was it a good performance? No. As most people will know, Kate took up the guitar less than 2 years ago when she broke her leg. It's now clear she spent little if not less time learning the piano - her clumsy incessant chords almost an insult to those of us who have spent decades playing. Phil's just as annoyed by the guitar-led song featuring a total of 2 chords. Though Kate can work an audience (frankly it didn't take more than saying 'how COLD is it today' to receive a cheer from this E-number addicted crowd), she has no control over the microphone. As you'd expect with a short album, the show was mercifully quick and we were soon on our way out.

Overall: Go if you are 12 years old and think that using obscenities in lyrics is 'edgy'. Don't go if you appreciate good music and carry weapons. The album sounds much better, stay at home and put it on shuffle.

Rating: 1 single chord playing guitar

Yes, Phil's a saint for coming with me and not complaining at all, but this isn't the end of the story of why he's the Best Boyfriend In The World. Noooo sireeee. After treating him to a post-gig kebab we arrive home to discover that the house key I had in my jacket is now missing. Keep in mind, Phil has to be up really really early to drive 3 hours south for an important meeting. The key is our only way into the flat and I'm certain it must have fallen out when I took my jacket off. At the gig. Cue a rally-style drive back to the Academy where the front entrance is closed. I then find some security guards who tell me to scarper round the back and manage to talk my way inside. The venue has been swept clean and my heart sinks as I realise that the chances of finding a key on a small grey fob are very slim. Amazingly, the bar staff are still milling about and in a giant stroke of luck, my key HAD been spotted and was waiting for me at the bar. Massive relief follows as I run back to the car where Phil is still patiently waiting. It only occurs to me on the way home that despite the massive inconvenience and cost this would have caused, Phil was not even slightly mad at me. All I got was 'next time put it in your jeans pocket' and that's it. (!!!) I ask him why he was so calm. He laughs and tells me he was concentrating on deciding precisely where to kick the door in.

Photo courtesy of NME.com