Saturday, 7 October 2017

Diary: Kid Creole & The Coconuts




Notes made at Kid Creole gig at Barbican Centre 07.10.2017
Mates with Basquiat.

The support band is a retro idea.

Arto Lindsay. Experimental beat, bass and percussion combo. Dark, brooding and poetic. Slashing guitars and feedback.
Jane: "It feels quite French." It fitted the word NICHE so well I couldn't disagree.

Musicians messing with volume dials on amps is a lovely reminder of how things once we're. At one point, Arto signalled to the control desk at the back of the stalls that one of his amps was fucked. It was the same signal referees in football matches use to tell the offpitch staff that a player has a broken leg.

A job-creation programme for drummers.

As we came out for the interval, one gig-goer was heard to say "you've got to be on crack to enjoy that".

The Kid's kid is his guitarist. "He costs me nothing."

3 coconuts.
The very notion of the dancing-girl assistant seems creepy and old

The Kid's kid plays a mean Telecaster.

Pole dancers of today would once have found a vocation in the Latin Swing club scene of the 1980s.

It has Vegas written all over it, and yet it is such an obvious product of New York. I wish America could work out where it's coming from.

You've still gotta be fit to be a Coconut.

11 people onstage.

One of the Coconuts broke into 'My Boy Lollipop'.

The Kid is Leader of the band, and this is Band Musicianship.

The Kid is no longer such a great singer, if he ever was. The softer, gently brash side of his voice has gone. But, hey, what a showman, what a performer!

An orgy of dancing to Annie, and a cute guitar riff inserted.

Upper Circle stalwart Remainers (in their seats).


The Kid introduced the word "insouciating" as a description of the Coconuts.

12-hour shift for the door attendant.





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