MUSIC

St George’s, Bristol (Thur 19 Jan)

‘Sir Henry’  distilled and squandered the late Viv Stanshall’s warped Englishness into a Rabelaisian torrent of vulgarity, satire and schoolboy scatology beguilingly delivered in his faultless BBC diction, made even more monstrous by Trevor Howard’s film performance. Mike Livesley is up against it, then, in enacting the whole grotesque cast himself, with only a shambolic, cobweb-strewn band, a big armchair and a few hats in front of an audience that looks as though it already knows (and loves) every word. It’s a confidence trick, of course, and happily he doesn’t falter even when he falters, gliding through the occasional rare stumble with Sir Henry’s own blithe disregard. Looking (and at times sounding) like leftovers from a long-forgotten wedding, the band chirrup and chime on ukulele, fiddle, clarinet and even a length of whirling hosepipe, providing jazz-age link music and accompanying songs like ‘How Nice To Be In England, Now That England’s Here’ with reluctant aplomb. It’s glorious stuff, loved by the audience, and only marred by the sound quality (St George’s doesn’t need that much amplification). But even that seems appropriately part of the shambles and a small price to pay for once again basking in Stanshall’s ignobly patriotic worldview. (Tony Benjamin)

Copyright Tony Benjamin 2012