The Penguin Café
The first time I bumped into Simon Jeffes's Penguin Cafe was around ten years ago, not long after he formed the band. Both in presentation and content, it felt very like a tribute to the Orchestra formed by his Dad, Arthur. I've no idea whether that was his intention at the time, but in the intervening years this diverse and talented group have (despite the woeful blunder on the poster I spotted in the entrance to the Halls) grown into something quite distinct from the incarnation led by his father. And the simple fact that the concert was badged by the Arts Centre, but was being held in St Andrews Hall, is testament to the success the band has achieved in his own right.
I can find little evidence to support the claim, but I've been assured that everyone from David Bowie to Deep Purple played this venue back in the day, so what a pleasure to see it liberated from record fairs and beer festivals, if only occasionally. And what an inspired move on the part of the Norwich Arts Centre to unleash its potential by bringing the type of act we expect to see at NAC to a venue that can accommodate demand. It may have been an unusually mature crowd that came to see the Penguin Cafe, but they packed the place out.
It’s hard to say how many of the band I saw ten years ago are still incumbent - all of them, for all I know - but they looked very different. Back then it was all head scarfs and silly hats, a mile away from the smartly dressed crew that turned up last night. More significantly, the sound has changed out of all recognition. Gone is the jaunty, folksy noise I was expecting, replaced by an altogether more sophisticated, minimalist sound only partly explained by the slimmed down line up. Apart from Jeffes on the piano, the band comprised double bass, cello, two violins and percussion. It's worth throwing Jake in the pot too - a superb sound engineer that handled tye difficult accoustics of St Andrews Hall perfectly. Ive never heard a concert sound so good in there.
The evening started at eight on the dot, catching out innumerable waifs and strays who were presumably expecting to miss a support act. Instead, we got an extended performance from the headline act, divided by a brief interval. The first hour was devoted entirely to output of this latest incarnation. Drawing largely from their most recent album, we heard musical descriptions of Chinstrap, Chapter and Adelie, all of them species of penguin, created in the service of a commission for Greenpeace. Further works followed, mimicking groups of penguins, some of them returning home, some standing forlornly as mining destroyed their habitat. If that all sounds a little earnest, then bear in mind these were instrumental works, inspired by concepts rather than slavishly adhering to them. And we still had elbow room for a cover. Not, as one might have expected, from his Dad's body of work, but instead from - of all people - Simian Mobile Disco. Their sublime take on Wheels within Wheels was the perfect surprise ending to the first half.
I dare say some who turned up, might have been disappointed by the lack of Arthur Jeffes work, something Simon was clearly sensitive to. So while we got yet more original composition in the second half, music from the Orchestra began to increasingly seep into the set. Even so, it was less familiar compositions that were showcased, so that the evening remained fresh and engaging. We had to wait until close to the end before being treated to the first big hitter, as Perpetuum Mobile bounced around the walls and up into the vaulted ceiling. Teasingly, Simon came back on his tod for the encore, and touchingly played a piece he composed for his father's memorial. It inevitably brought to mind the great loss suffered by the nation, and by extension more personal losses we've all suffered.
He couldn't in good conscious leave us all hanging like that and at long last we got what surely many had been waiting for. I enjoyed Music for a Found Harmonium as much as the next man, but I couldn't help wonder how much of a pleasure it was for them to play a tune not of their making, yet the one that everyone was waiting for. I wonder if it’s time for Simon Jeffes to entirely unshackle himself from the past, notwithstanding the clear love and respect he has for his Dad's work. It is a great tune, though, I have to admit.
During the interval I overheard one grumpy soul complaining that he'd been listening to a poor man's Micheal Nyman. With band members from Suede and Gorillaz perhaps he was expecting something quite different. In fairness, the lean, minimalist repetition of the work we'd just listened to did bring to mind shades of Nyman or Glass, though I think it's along the route from Steve Reich to Ludovico Einaudi that you'd be more likely to find this particular cafe. I found the combination of original composition, brilliant musicianship and note perfect sound, played out in front of a stunning backdrop to be quite the best gig I've had the pleasure of attending in a very long time.
