John Ottaway and Wild Will Barrett
In sharp contrast to Otway's puppy like enthusiasm, Wild Willy Barrett mordant disinterest in Otway's buffoonery fails to disguise an obvious mutual affection. No one would seriously argue that Otway has been gifted with the finest singing voice, but he is a proper songwriter when he wants to be.
Singer, songwriter, and rock and roll’s greatest failure (self-proclaimed), the inestimable John Otway has been rolling around on the floor, heat butting microphones, and generally injuring himself in the service of his art for nearly half a century. His career as a shirt splitting solo act is well established and assured. He's far less well known for being a gifted lyricist and half of one of the strangest duos to grace the stage.
I've seen the former incarnation countless times - with a set list that has barely shifted in years, an accompanying party piece for nearly every song, and audience participation an integral component of the show, it’s a little like attending the meeting of a benign cult and hugely entertaining. His appearances with Wild Willy Barratt are far rarely, but in their own way, just as eccentric. Barratt is a hugely talented multi-instrumentalist, who not only plays just about any instrument he lays his hands on, but also invents a few along the way. In sharp contrast to Otway's puppy like enthusiasm, Barrett affects a mordant disinterest in performance. The consequential banter between the two of them is a large part of the duos appeal, as Barratt's faux frustration at Otway's buffoonery fails to disguise an obvious mutual affection.
The evening kicked off with what proved to be a typically whimsical gesture. To placate Barratt's dislike of the artifice of the obligatory encore, we started off with one and got it out the way. Louise on a Horse, Gypsy and the almost chart topping Really Free (the highlight of the evening, according to Otway) were cherry picked from the duos back catalogue and deftly delivered. It was a fitting reminder that together with Barratt, Otway at least started off as a proper pop star, writing and performing proper songs. Separated brought a rare moment of poignancy to the evening, despite Otway’s comedic delivery, while Best Dream and Bluey Green were charmingly wistful. It was, however, Body Talk that got the biggest cheer before the break, a number that was originally one of theirs, but has long since been integrated into Otway's cabaret routine. As Otway bashed out a rhythm on his pocketed drum pads while waved his arms manically at the Theremin, you had to wonder how much of Barrett's distain was manufactured. He is, after all, a very talented musician. It must rankle a bit that Otway makes quite such a discordant racket and yet gets by far the biggest cheers.
After the break, it was more of the same, with a duellingbanjo/Theremin battle giving way to a rock n roll cover of Two Little Boys. A sneaky bit of Over the Rainbow crept in, after which we got an all too brief excerpt from Otway's solo album Montserrat, demonstrating he can still bash out a decent tube after all these years, with Tears from both Eyes. No one would seriously argue that Otway has been gifted with the finest singing voice, but he is a proper songwriter when he wants to be. By now, the act was becoming increasingly, but pleasingly, shambolic. Otway's taken his shirt off again and, not to be outdone, Barratt has taken both a saw and a hammer to his guitar. Shouts for Head-butts from the audience are summarily dismissed - we don't do requests - but not to worry. We still got the 7th greatest lyric ever written with Beware the Flowers, after which Barrett took to the mystery instrument tucked away at the back of the stage. It offered up a literal grandstand finish, as it bellowed smoke and roared like a racing car.
And then, just when we thought it was all over, Bagpussshaped bagpipes sent the audience on its way, grinning ear to ear, unsure quite what just happened, but having loved every minute. Otway is charming company and his solo shows are hugely entertaining but it was such a pleasure to see him buttressed by a partner with proper musical chops. The lunacy was still present and correct, but was nicely contrasted with confidence in the quality of their writing. For a man that offers up a T-shirt proclaiming "I can't believe it’s not better" Otway really needn't have worried, as it really was.
