It’s difficult to believe that it has been almost 15 years since I first reviewed David McAlmont, almost falling off my bar stool in wonder when he opened his mouth to sing. He could have been channelling Smoky Robinson, were it not for the chiming rock guitars backing him. That and the almost exclusively white audience which could scarcely believe its ears.
That’s the thing about McAlmont. In a music business that remains exasperatingly racist, to the point where in America at least, artists’ popularity and sales are predicated on a race-based marketing system, McAlmont has steadfastly refused to play the game. His 1990s’ collaboration with Suede’s Bernard Butler, reconfigured a few years ago, resulted in a shatteringly good McAlmont and Butler album that in no way corresponded to anything being produced by contemporary black artists. This, and the duo’s reluctance not only to perform live, but even to speak to the press, meant their debut failed to sell in the huge numbers it deserved to – and their partnership subsequently fell apart.
Since then, McAlmont has continued to plough his own furrow, gaining a dedicated following along the way, and, like me, many of those fans in attendance tonight remember exactly where they were when they first heard the single “Yes ”. (A Milanese shoe shop if you must know). McAlmont’s startling instrument means that he is a singer’s singer and many erstwhile colleagues have come to hear this comprehensive selection from his back catalogue. Most have even paid for their own tickets. It is certainly money well spent.
Even before Mc Almont sashays onto stage wearing an elaborate golden head dress – “I made it myself ” – pendulous diamante drop earrings and a feather boa, there is the air of expectancy that awaits all great artists. Will his live voice live up to its billing? The answer is a resounding yes. Despite all that has been written about one of the great pop voices of our time, you would be no more surprised on first hearing it live than if he opened his mouth to extract jewels on a string. Which is more or less what he proceeds to do.
From the opening bars of “My Funny Valentine”, accompanied by the excellent Guy Davies on piano, Mc Almont sets about seducing an audience who want nothing more, but get it anyway. “My Mama Done Tol’ Me” consolidates McAlmont’s easy relationship with his audience, many of whom he seems to know, before he retrieves his discarded boa for the high camp of “Diamonds Are Forever”. The beautiful “Snow” proves there’s more to Mc Almont than just a voice to sing with. He’s also a terrific songwriter. If anyone doubted this, Bernard Butler makes his first appearance of the evening on Yes”, using the tremolo arm of his guitar to terrific effect, bending every note to match McAlmont’s vocal, and proving that a classic remains a classic, despite the lack of amplification.
Aware perhaps, that his audience is not fully representative of the wider community McAlmont begins the second half with a “song for heterosexuals”. Funnily enough, it’s the Carpenters’ “If I Could Catch a Star”. Given that McAlmont is battling the onset of a cold, the next song “about a Scottish jewel thief”, with its constant high “tessitura”, is perhaps not the wisest choice. However, if anyone has noticed, they seem prepared to forgive him, as there is a slightly annoying cabaret that requires the audience to shout out themed questions in response to a roll of the dice. At least the diversion it provides allows our host regular rests for his vocal chords.
“Stay focused and keep it humble”, McAlmont exhorts the crowd, before winding the evening up with his second encore, “Grapefruit Moon”. That’s not easy when you sound like this. Sing choirs of angels? Who need’s ’em? Christmas came early for those in this crowd.
