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Ah, the gig with an orchestra... Previously undertaken by everyone from Metallica to DJ Yoda, it’s as a la mode in the modern musical world as releasing free singles on mp3 (releasing a free, live, orchestra-backed single on mp3 is the logical next step, but so far only Gigwise has realised this). On Friday night at Camden’s Roundhouse it was Belfast maverick Duke Special’s turn to plump for some extra brass and wind, backing up his already sizeable supporting entourage.
The omens were good – surely any self-respecting symphony machine could only further glorify the soaring rip-roarers and pretty ditties that comprise Duke’s catalogue? Somehow though, in the set’s initial songs, this saintly sonic symbiosis never quite happens. The dreadlocked Duke and his part-time musicians played mere violas away from the prim and proper 30-strong orchestra, but the gap seems gargantuan during the early numbers.
When they combine, it feels forced: songs like ‘Portrait’ (despite Ben Castle’s best clarinet efforts) and the new ‘Those Proverbs We Made In Winter Must End’ sound awkward, as if the orchestra has been fitted around them, accommodated politely like an intrusive guest. What’s more, with the exception of the jaunty Applejack, a song from an unfinished musical about Mark Twain that’s re-raided later, the show’s first third lacks the vaudeville feel of a typical Duke Special concert.
Notably, "Temperance Society" Chip Bailey – Duke’s commonest sidekick, who plays cheese graters and egg whisks among more traditional percussion, while dressed like a Napoleonic brigadier – is generally unseen; the orchestra, meanwhile, are garbed in funeral black and rarely risk a smile. Strangely all-seated, with tables in front of a few stalls, the Roundhouse is equally funereal off-stage, too – with the favoured method of death apparently cremation, such are the Saharan state of many brows in the audience.
Sensing our sticky torpor after a sadly un-rousing performance of ‘Freewheel’ – normally one of his most upbeat tunes – Duke reverts to a Victorian drinking song. It proves an inspired move: in no time we’re all chanting “Down at the Old Bull and Bush” in happy unison. Newly restored with pep, Duke’s next number, ‘Sweet, Sweet Kisses’, bounces by with a delicious rat-a-tat-tat beat, before fellow newbie 'Why Does Anybody Love At All’ pole vaults to previously unchartered crescendos the enemy of cobwebs across the revitalized room.
Soon enough it’s encore time: encouraged by a standing ovation by his newly enervated public, Duke returns for five more. There’s a sense that much more is possible; that higher musical peaks can still be achieved by the combination of Duke + band + orchestra. And such dreams are triumphantly realised in ‘Last Night I Nearly Died’, a dreamy singalong utilising a suspiciously-good drummer, supposedly plucked at random from the crowd. At the end all on stage stop, and we crowd alone sing the chorus carefree and shrill: it’s a giddy, magical moment to savour.
Taking a breather in the otherwise breathless 'I Let You Down’, the orchestra again ably assist in the stately ‘No Cover Up’, fresh with new brass pomp. But it’s only in the final offering, 'Digging An Early Grave', that everyone on stage truly seems as one: horns tonk, violins squeal and peal, drums drone, Bailey leaps around like a lunatic and Duke drawls prettily before collapsing to the floor in a contented crumple as his musicians finish the job. He rises as we all do, applauding his persistence as much as his performance.
