Music > Live Reviews
The Showhawk Duo
The Adrian Flux Waterfront
06/05/19
This isn’t the first time I’ve seen The Showhawk Duo. I’m pretty sure I saw them busking in the Grassmarket when at the fringe in Edinburgh. And surely it was them on the bandstand at Glastonbury. On both occasions I’d hung around a while to watch this preposterously talented duo wrestling classic 90s dance anthems from their acoustic guitars, but it was raining – as it always does in Edinburgh and Glastonbury – and so I didn’t hang around. It was only in hindsight, and with the help of a viral video, that the penny latterly dropped that I’d been watching the same people. From such inauspicious beginnings, it’s odd to find myself waiting to see them perform a full set, to paying customers, with a roof over my head.
Before arriving I was wondering what sort of support would work for two blokes with guitars, and it made a lot of sense to learn that it would be two blokes rapping. I imagined one of them is a beat-boxer and it that they would be harmless, but transient fun. The first sign that I’ve got Benji and Hibbz entirely wrong is the drum kit on stage. Second is the plethora of mic stands. These two likely lads do rap, but turn out to be the front men for a seven piece band, playing a curious but pleasing hybrid of hip-hop and soul. They are a motley crew, with a brass section out of the Commitments and a lead guitarist out of Supertramp, but what a fabulous noise they make. It turns out that Benji and Hibbz started out as buskers as well, and from the evidence of the one song that they did as a duo, were very good at it. What they’ve had the good sense to do, however, is bring together a group of outstanding musicians to back them up, delivering a superb collection of original songs with consummate style and good humour. What a shame there was such a meagre, early evening audience to witness the start of a set that could have easily been headlining, but at least by close of play the most timid of wallflowers had been drawn closer by their cheeky vocals, infectious rhythms, and by the absolutely glorious sound of that brass.
The Showhawk duo are clever devils, kicking off their set with some traditional guitar, just to show they can, before launching into a litany of Ibiza inspired tunes. Duties are divided as follows: Jake Wright stands in traditional guitar hero pose (frequently risking injury atop a wobbly crate, set out for posing purposes) thumping out a rhythm on the body of his guitar while simultaneously picking out the tune on the strings. Mikhall Asanovic remains seated throughout, surrounded by a bewildering array of effects pedals, all connected up to his notionally acoustic guitar. Combined they knock out extraordinary renditions of tunes such as ‘Insomnia’ by Faithless, Zombie Nation’s ‘Kernkraft 400‘ and ‘Sandstorm’ by Darude. These are produced with such a full and resonant sound that you find yourself peeking around corners looking for the mp3 player, seeing where and how they might be cheating, but the noise really does seem to come just two guitars. Except for the heartedly encouraged singing, of course, that comes almost entirely from the crowd.
It was an odd crowd for a gig. Overwhelmingly, these were millennials, dressed up to party and unusually tanked up ready to go. At times this felt more like a hen or stag party than a gig, with a greater phone-to-person ratio that I can recall ever seeing, most of which seem to be used to film their owners rather than the band. And boy do they chatter when a song is not to their liking. Still, everyone looked to be having a jolly time, and as I grumpily skulked ever further towards the back of the auditorium, I grew to realise that the party was theirs, and the problem was me. Nonetheless, it was a pity more attention was paid when the boys broke things up a little. Benji and Hibbz got a good reception when they returned briefly, but Jake’s version of Max Romeo’s Outer Space fell a little flat. Similarly, I thought it neat to finish on Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings, but this seemed to confuse, rather than please, the crowd.
Not to worry, though, as it was, ironically, left to one of the few non-dance tunes of the night to bring the evening to a close with an inspired encore. Bohemian Rhapsody is a song I recalled them doing in the street, but which I presumed would be put to one side for their Rave night. I should have known better – this is a masterpiece woven into the DNA of every upstanding Brit, and despite the likelihood that most of the crowd weren’t even born when it was released, they of course knew every word.