MARIA DUARTE reviews Desperate Journey, Blue Moon, Pillion, and Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery
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Sowing musical chaos in the nicest possible way
Damo Suzuki
WILL STONE enjoys a set by an artist too eclectic to be pigeonholed
RUTH AYLETT reviews two collections of outright political poetry
The book feels like a writer working within his limits and not breaking any new ground, believes KEN COCKBURN
PRAGYA AGARWAL recommends a collection of drawings that explore the relation of indigenous people to the land in south Asia, Africa and the Caribbean
CHRIS SEALE speaks to Palestinian sound artist BINT MBAREH
MARY CONWAY applauds a brave and timely two hander that explores the difference between intimacy and abuse
Damo Suzuki
Lexington, London
A SINGLE, drawn-out note, reverberating around the room, heralds the start of something and, as the sound builds, the small stage at London’s Lexington starts to fill.
The note from the keyboard player is joined by the beat of a drum, then a bass adds to the groove, before two more musicians on keys and a lead guitarist complete the mix, but it’s only when a sylph-like Damo Suzuki walks on stage that the room really rises.
Standing there as the maelstrom of music envelops him and his swirling grey hair, he launches into the first and perhaps what may be the only track, calling, cawing and getting an avid audience rapt and ready to rock out.
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