On the way to the gig tonight, I’m on the M40 when the government sends out an emergency alert about wildfires. It is the sort of shrieking alarm that is impossible to ignore, not least because it keeps going off on people’s phones throughout the show.
“Just think,” suggests Scott Lavene, as his own joins the chorus, “this might be the last gig you ever see. It’s like Mad Max now.”
And already there’s no fish in posh supermarkets. Sort of.
“Waitrose Has Run Out Of Lobsters” is so quintessentially Scott Lavene. Unique is a cliché, yet he really is. No one else writes songs quite like these, finds these characters or looks at the world from precisely this angle. Even fewer could make the disappearance of expensive seafood sound this compelling. And the bitch who bought all the lobsters is definitely a Tory.
“Cars” underlines that the first time I saw Lavene was when he opened for Craig Finn. The half-spoken, half-sung delivery provides the obvious link, as does the ability to pull meaning from apparently ordinary lives. So many of Lavene’s stories lead back to teenage summers, when cars meant freedom, escape and possibilities that adulthood subsequently did its best to remove.
“The Greatest Summer” literally is new. A brand-new song, never played before, it interweaves family, friendship and a burnt-out Ford Sierra. Somehow, in Lavene’s hands, that combination makes perfect sense.
“Safeways” is a simple tale of love – albeit one that suggests the way to a woman’s heart is gravy. If only I’d known how to do shit with Bisto, I might be married to Kathryn now. And yes, I really should start changing the names in these reviews.
This being an Acoustic Songs And Stories show, Lavene also reads a poem. It involves sex with his ex-girlfriend’s dad because, frankly, what else would you expect? Then comes “Muscle Car”, another love song, although Lavene has already proved that romance can be found in supermarkets, old vehicles or almost anywhere else he chooses to look.
“Sadly I’m Not Steve McQueen” is a piece of absolute gloriousness that will never get old, while “Prettiest Peach” comes with an admission.
“I feel obliged to play it because it’s the most popular on Spotify by a long way.”
Obligation or otherwise, it remains wonderful.
“The Toffee Tickler” arrives with perhaps the greatest disclaimer ever offered from a stage: “I’ve never thrown a woman over a balcony.” It’s a hell of a disclaimer, even by Lavene’s standards.
“The First Time” is a wonderful look at mortality. After it, Lavene speaks, as only he can, about the deaths of his dad and his best mate: honest, funny and crushing without ever asking for sympathy.
“Pound Shop Al Pacino” introduces the king of the losers’ club and the spanner of the manor. Of course it does. In Lavene’s world, even the failures get poetry written for them.
“June” is the evening’s other brand-new song, rhyming planets with Thanet and proving that the universe clearly begins in Essex. Short, sharp and dealing with casual sex, it comes from what he calls his “weird new album”.
“Broke” is fantastic. It undulates rather than moving in a straight line, a song about poverty, kindness and long, long sighs. It is funny because life is, but compassionate because life has to be.
How many songs begin with the line, “I was living with a Moroccan armed robber”? Only “A Bus In July”, presumably. It also features a bloke carrying a bag of custard, because a Scott Lavene song never settles for the obvious.
“Funny How Things Change” gathers up everything that brought him here, then adds what he calls a Santana solo. Why wouldn’t it? Convention has never seemed particularly relevant.
Played by request, “Debbie” is revealed as being about his mate Ian, who died only a few weeks ago. I’m telling you, it is also the only song that goes: “Take the bread out of that, it’s not a toaster.”
He finishes with a poem called “Joy”. The words come in a quickfire rush, almost spat out, and the control is incredible.
It is always a joy to see Scott Lavene. Steve McQueen he isn’t, and whether or not he is a Pound Shop Al Pacino remains open to debate. What is beyond question, though, is that no one uses words quite like he does. He is one of the most talented people we have right now.
