Scott Lavene is kicking off his tour tonight, and he’s made an effort: suit jacket, shirt, and tie. It’s created a problem, though. “I look like a fella who’s lost my job,” he jokes.
That’s how he chooses to start tonight. And if most gigs don’t start that way, that’s fine—because this is not a normal gig.
Scott Lavene is one of those blokes. One of those artists who quite simply doesn’t sound like anyone else. Yes, you can reach for comparisons like “The Essex Lou Reed” or “The Romford Bruce Springsteen,” but it doesn’t get close.
At his heart—like his former touring partner Craig Finn—he writes about love and drugs, but the way he gets there is the mark of genuine genius. He uses words like no one else does.
He’s just released a new record, “Cars, Buses, Bedsit And Shops”—a record he’s rightly proud of. You can tell by how much of it he plays.
He starts with one, “Bedsits,” a beautiful love song delivered in a way that immediately sets it apart.
“Muscle Car” isn’t about cars at all. Instead, it’s about rejecting materialism and finding contentment in the end. Watching him here, it appears he is at peace with the world.
His skill comes in that no one else could attempt songs like the love letter to his wife, “Lord Of Citrus,” or the astonishing “Sadly I’m Not Steve McQueen.” There’s no one that comes close. And if you can make sense of it, then “Debbie” is open to interpretation.
As is often the case with these types of shows, there’s an interval. He opens the second half with “Custard.” And proof that he’s always been this good—at least since he “returned from the wilderness,” as he puts it—comes with “Broke.” Working class to its roots, even if he’s about to move to Suffolk (ironic considering he’d earlier played “Modern World,” written about his hatred of the people he’d met at a party with a former friend who’d done just that). Oh, and Roland from Marketing sounds like a right knob.
“Bus In July” is glorious—perhaps even the highlight—and it might be the only song ever written about a bloke who lived with a Moroccan armed robber.
Indeed, there’s just a touch of Billy Bragg about the way he writes love songs, and “Breakdowns” is a brilliant example. So is “Safeways”—and if the way to a woman’s heart really is gravy, then maybe that’s where I’ve gone wrong.
As he says, “Most of my demographic are middle-aged dudes,” and he looks back on his younger life in a way that only we (note the word) can. And if he plays a superb guitar solo, then so he should—he’s toting a Flying V.
He ends with “The Ballad Of Lynsey,” which means a singalong of “I chose amphetamines over you.” It’s probably the only song to contain those words, but that’s cool—because Scott Lavene is a one-off too.
Which is why all the comparisons don’t cut it. He’s the only Scott Lavene. And he knows a swinger called Kenny Spoonfingers. You’re not, and you don’t. He’s magnificent. Scott, not Kenny.
