‘O'Sullivan primed for a second coming ’

By Adam Sweeting - Saturday, October 06, 2007

FOR some artists, longevity can eventually prove to be its own reward. After his chartbusting years in the early Seventies, Gilbert O'Sullivan plummeted vertiginously out of fashion, not helped by his punishing lawsuit against Gordon Mills's MAM Records for unpaid royalties. As he commented in one of several between-song chats, critics have made a sport out of beating him over the head for his unhipness. "Sod 'em,'' he added. Which reminds me that he once wrote me a long, aggrieved letter after I'd disparaged him in print.

Maybe he just gave too many hostages to fortune, such as the cloth cap, short trousers and sweaters with a letter G on them he used to wear in his early days, making him look like a pre-school novelty act. But he keeps making records, like this year's A Scruff At Heart, and judging by the enthusiasm of this almost-full house, he's perfectly placed to exploit the current boom in live music.

He has a celebrity fan club too. Clustered near the stage were Richard Curtis, Howard Goodall and Angus Deayton, with comedian Harry Hill nearby. Given the vogue for singer-songwriters, could the second coming of O'Sullivan be nigh?

He's still fine-tuning a lavish touring band featuring a female string quartet, brass and backing vocalists, and hasn't managed to eradicate the perennial problem that too many of his songs share similar chord sequences and a simplistic, plodding beat (see In Love With Love (Again) or Out of the Question).

In one of several digressions about songwriting, he revealed that he usually relies on the tune to grab the listener, after which they may go on to discover the lyrics. In that case, it might be wise to add a more characterful melody to You Can't Con-Crete, whose acidic lyric is wrapped in a coating of aural caster sugar.

He also claims to model himself on Ray Davies, though a combination of Graham Nash and Paul McCartney seems a more apt analogy. The new My Place Or Yours, sung to a simple piano accompaniment, exudes a palpable "essence of Macca'', while Take Your Foot Off My Toe is the kind of song the Beatles might have given Ringo to sing.

Happily, O'Sullivan does have a second gear. During part two, he essayed cheesy Ibiza-disco romps and unveiled a reggae version of Why Oh Why Oh Why, before concluding with a nakedly emotional Alone Again Naturally. In case that was a little too raw, he rushed back for a stomping Get Down, and nearly maimed himself while jumping off the grand piano. By this time, the crowd had thrown caution to the wind and was leaping about deliriously.

2007 Telegraph Group Limited, London

Merci beaucoup David!

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