February 8, 2011
The Jericho Tavern’s Saturday night offering was an eclectic feast of Oxford’s finest, delivering a raucous night of punk, jazz, folk, rockabilly, surf and Memphis blues fun. Inflatable Buddha and The Long Insiders joined The Original Rabbit Foot Spasm Band, who were launching their new album, Year of the Rabbit.
First on, Inflatable Buddha with a familiar, welcome set, incorporating lively favourites to get the crowd - collectively named Dave Twat - warmed up. Clown, combining pogo beats, waltz lilts and instrumental sounds reminiscent of a Jewish wedding, forces even the most reluctant onlooker to sway and bounce compulsively and there’s unrepressed crowd participation of energetic jigging up and down and cries of HOI!, during Life Is Sweet. Inflatable Buddha never fail to please and have a warm place in many folk’s hearts, as evidenced by the enthusiastic dancing and rousing applause. All enjoyed this cheery build-up for the night of revelry to come.
The lead singer of the Long Insiders, all dark tendrils, big-scale floral print dress and pinched-in waist, promises perhaps something loungy and languid – and then the guitar comes in and surprisingly, what’s served up is thrashy, hard, high decibel rock. All becomes clear when the Johnny Cash lookalike guitarist and singer launches into voice. It’s not rock and roll for the faint hearted. Having revealed herself to be more sass than swing, the lead lady blasts Gimme What You Got. It’s loud and fast and there’s en-masse foot tapping and head nodding from the crowd, with a few brave renegades really going for it on the dance floor. Temptation allows the lady to demonstrate her crooning abilities. She digs deep for the long low notes and extends those lungs for the highs. From Johnny Cash, the be-quiffed male singer goes all throaty-Elvis for several numbers, whilst the drummer, despite looking like the other, slightly more demure Elvis (Costello) tries hard to split those drum skins. Throw in relentless string abuse from the bass, and you’ve got a room full of good noise that, if the deafening wolf whistles were anything to go by, the crowd were loving.
When the pianist and gravel-voiced singer of The Rabbit Foot Spasm Band finally appeared he joined a fine array of trilby-clad, dapper-suited musicians. It’s always reassuring to see some finely turned out horns on stage. We were lyrically informed in the first number that I Can’t Dance, but the crowd certainly could and they were happy to oblige from the offset. The trumpeter, never without a wry smile when not doing nifty stuff with valves and puff, took up vocals on several numbers, much to the delight of the audience. Maybe he’s always smiling because he knows they’re really good. He’s more Sinatra than sandpaper, in nice contrast to the Satchamo-style, bullfrog tones of the band's foul-mouthed, funny frontman. On the classics like Eadie was a Lady he showed himself to be a Rat Pack crooner to the ends of his wide lapelled pinstripes.
Seven men on a small stage make a decent amount of ear-pleasing sound, from ivory-rattling piano riffs to eardrum-rupturing high notes from the sax solos, complex drum beats and a throbbing and thwacking double bass backing it all up. Together they can’t go wrong, producing sounds that get the crowd bopping wildly. I’d hazard that the room was already full of fans, but they quickly made plenty of new ones.
Demonstrating that they are collectively skilled musicians and consummate performers, they managed to turn us all into ardent patriots, singing along with gusto to God Save The Queen. Finally, having cheerfully answered the riotous cries for an encore, they close with Big Ten Inch –however it wasn't the size of their set that mattered, it was what they did with it!
What a rockin’ good night. God save the Rabbits and all their friends.
First on, Inflatable Buddha with a familiar, welcome set, incorporating lively favourites to get the crowd - collectively named Dave Twat - warmed up. Clown, combining pogo beats, waltz lilts and instrumental sounds reminiscent of a Jewish wedding, forces even the most reluctant onlooker to sway and bounce compulsively and there’s unrepressed crowd participation of energetic jigging up and down and cries of HOI!, during Life Is Sweet. Inflatable Buddha never fail to please and have a warm place in many folk’s hearts, as evidenced by the enthusiastic dancing and rousing applause. All enjoyed this cheery build-up for the night of revelry to come.
The lead singer of the Long Insiders, all dark tendrils, big-scale floral print dress and pinched-in waist, promises perhaps something loungy and languid – and then the guitar comes in and surprisingly, what’s served up is thrashy, hard, high decibel rock. All becomes clear when the Johnny Cash lookalike guitarist and singer launches into voice. It’s not rock and roll for the faint hearted. Having revealed herself to be more sass than swing, the lead lady blasts Gimme What You Got. It’s loud and fast and there’s en-masse foot tapping and head nodding from the crowd, with a few brave renegades really going for it on the dance floor. Temptation allows the lady to demonstrate her crooning abilities. She digs deep for the long low notes and extends those lungs for the highs. From Johnny Cash, the be-quiffed male singer goes all throaty-Elvis for several numbers, whilst the drummer, despite looking like the other, slightly more demure Elvis (Costello) tries hard to split those drum skins. Throw in relentless string abuse from the bass, and you’ve got a room full of good noise that, if the deafening wolf whistles were anything to go by, the crowd were loving.
When the pianist and gravel-voiced singer of The Rabbit Foot Spasm Band finally appeared he joined a fine array of trilby-clad, dapper-suited musicians. It’s always reassuring to see some finely turned out horns on stage. We were lyrically informed in the first number that I Can’t Dance, but the crowd certainly could and they were happy to oblige from the offset. The trumpeter, never without a wry smile when not doing nifty stuff with valves and puff, took up vocals on several numbers, much to the delight of the audience. Maybe he’s always smiling because he knows they’re really good. He’s more Sinatra than sandpaper, in nice contrast to the Satchamo-style, bullfrog tones of the band's foul-mouthed, funny frontman. On the classics like Eadie was a Lady he showed himself to be a Rat Pack crooner to the ends of his wide lapelled pinstripes.
Seven men on a small stage make a decent amount of ear-pleasing sound, from ivory-rattling piano riffs to eardrum-rupturing high notes from the sax solos, complex drum beats and a throbbing and thwacking double bass backing it all up. Together they can’t go wrong, producing sounds that get the crowd bopping wildly. I’d hazard that the room was already full of fans, but they quickly made plenty of new ones.
Demonstrating that they are collectively skilled musicians and consummate performers, they managed to turn us all into ardent patriots, singing along with gusto to God Save The Queen. Finally, having cheerfully answered the riotous cries for an encore, they close with Big Ten Inch –however it wasn't the size of their set that mattered, it was what they did with it!
What a rockin’ good night. God save the Rabbits and all their friends.