Reviews

MUSIC

PAUL WELLER **

CONCERT HALL, MOTHERWELL

THE Weller faithful may have been content just to bask in the presence of their hero but, given the wealthy catalogue at his fingertips, this was at times a frustrating gig.

After a no-messing, rocking start, he aired some new songs from his hefty forthcoming album 22 Dreams, none of which jumped out on a first listen. All I Wanna Do (Is Be With You) is Weller in mushy mode. Another newbie was garlanded with a 1960s-(un)inspired 12-string strum.

Weller was in fine, gritty soul voice throughout and there was plenty of variety, from the mod rock of Peacock Suit to the pastoral wistfulness of Wild Wood. But this was an underwhelming set that eventually drifted into snoozy MOR soul before the final push.

The Jam jukebox was dusted off for Eton Rifles, and for a moment it felt like the night might end on a high. But Weller wasn't inclined to linger in his own past, preferring to deliver a burst of The Who's Magic Bus and later a plodding cover of All You Need Is Love to round off the night. Weller and his band were busy enjoying themselves, the crowd were bawling along for all they were worth and yet the celebratory spirit was missing.

Fiona Shepherd

DIRTY PRETTY THINGS ***

ABC, GLASGOW

"I love your tight wee bum," screamed the excitable lady standing next to me, at DPT frontman and premium-rate indie poster-boy Carl Barât.

For all his status as one of British rock's most desirable chaps – and the legacy he carries from his previous band The Libertines – Barât seems determined to shape his current outfit into a force in its own right. The opening salvo – Buzzards and Crows and Hippy's Son, both from forthcoming second album Romance At Short Notice – suggest a heavier direction for the band. Moustachioed bassist Didz Hammond's playing has stepped to the fore – thick, feral and fuzzy – while Barât's found a gritty strain to his voice reminiscent of Joe Strummer at his most anguished – The Clash being the band's constant touchstone.

Lead single from the new record, Tired Of England, welds the melodic and the scabby, as does DPT's best stuff to date – Wondering and Bang Bang You're Dead . More like those, and less of the Sham 69-style punk pap that filled out much of the band's set, and Barât should be able to put his posterior behind him, so to speak.

Malcolm Jack

KIMYA DAWSON ****

ABC2, GLASGOW

"I'VE had this itching in my shoes since I was just a little kid," sang the frizz-haired eccentric alone on stage before us. "My mom would say, 'I hope some day you get paid for being Kimya Dawson'." That didn't sound like much of a rhyme, but by the time Dawson had twisted the words around her tongue in that way which is entirely her own, My Rollercoaster sounded almost anthemic.

Of course, almost more than being the member of the Moldy Peaches who wasn't Adam Green, soundtracking the Oscar-nominated film Juno and releasing her old band's debut album on 11 September 2001 – complete with a track entitled NYC's Like a Graveyard – Dawson is known for being herself. In spite of her voluptuous head of curls and kooky demeanour, her music still manages to grab the attention as the oddest thing about her.

She sang of sharing a lonely only-child upbringing with Bruce Springsteen (not literally) and of only feeling really cool when she's hating herself. There's a certain lack of confidence about a lot of Dawson's work, although her sweet Washington-by-way-of-New-York accent waylaid this, as did the fact she sang more than one hopeful quasi-ballad about her recent new motherhood.

Even her upcoming album of children's songs and mooted appearance on Sesame Street won't dent her reputation as a truly independent-spirited songwriter. That she can gather huge cheers for squawking a version of the Bette Midler favourite From a Distance and then launch into a relative rock-out with Loose Lips is a measure of just how much she's adored.

David Pollock