Fyfe Dangerfield, Deaf Institute, Manchester
Fyfe played Manchester's Deaf Institute after his debut solo album hit shelvews
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By Darren Estwick. |  |
Monday, 25, Jan 2010 06:09
Entering and leaving a gig to rapturous applause is a sign that an audience had high hopes for a performance and are not disappointed.
When Fyfe Dangerfield strides on to the stage - sharp black suit and tie smartening his bohemian good looks - there is huge expectation from a crowd made up of Guillemots fans curious about the frontman's first solo project and the already-initiated who have heard Fly Yellow Moon and enjoyed its stripped-down love songs.
The 29-year-old clearly enjoys himself throughout the set, using looped beats and sampled hooks alongside a keyboard or one of several guitars, while two stern violin players join him on stage for some of the songs. There is a constant sense that it is a new adventure for him as he throws himself energetically into every tune, unclear as to how they will be received. But the response from the Manchester crowd is unanimous - they like it. A lot.
In his dressing room at the Deaf Institute two hours earlier Fyfe is struggling. The admittedly delicious Trof menu is proving too much for him and his tour manager Johnny. He finally opts for a burger after much thought and adds a chocolate pudding for good measure. These are important choices, after all.
Dangerfield is charming offstage. He is open and honest, with a tendency for thinking out loud that makes him seem unsure about everything. His performance in Birmingham the previous night - the first stop of the tour and one which featured a number of technical glitches - had not gone to plan in his eyes and he is self-deprecating about the experience.
He says: "I started the gig alright but then gradually started losing my confidence, but that is the art of playing as a solo artist and I have only just started doing it. I'm not going to be that good."
The material recorded for Fly Yellow Moon was not actually done with the intention of being released, with Dangerfield dismissing the rumour that the whole album was completed in five days. While about two-thirds of it was recorded in a session before Christmas in 2008, extra tracks and tweaks were added later.
He is touring this record around the UK and then stateside, but when that is over he hopes to develop his work ethic, which he thinks is vital if he is going to produce his best work.
"I find that I'll start writing and after ten minutes I'll get distracted or just think its shit and lose interest," he explains.
"Because it's what I enjoy doing, its very hard to think of it as work. But I have to tell myself 'No, this is my job. You are going to sit here for four hours and try and write'."
Dangerfield catches me by surprise by saying that one of the things he most wants to do is write pop songs for other people and cites a combination of laziness and self-confidence as barriers to achieving this dream. His obvious song-writing ability suggests that it would not be such a big leap, but for now the world can make do with his solo material and a packed crowd in Manchester does just that.
Before the headliner takes the stage, there is support from Villagers, who despite the name, consist of just one unassuming Irish lad and an acoustic guitar. The singer - real name Conor O'Brien - performs a series of meandering tales that are great fun to follow, with the power and range of his voice adding to the experience.
And so to Mr Dangerfield, who bounds on to the stage with purpose and produces a set that includes all the songs on Fly Yellow Moon as well as many of the extra tracks on the bonus edition of the album. There are no signs of technical glitches at the Deaf Institute and the only downfall of an otherwise very entertaining show was in the second half of his set, where too many piano ballads with violin accompaniment followed each other, perhaps sending some of the audience into a state of lethargy.
Aside from that minor quibble, Dangerfield is a hit. He puts enthusiasm and class into the delivery of each song and finishes the night with a crowd-pleaser - the Guillemots' Made Up Love Song #43, played on the ukelele. It seems unlikely that he will lack in confidence for long if he is greeted by many more rounds of applause like this. Flying solo will be second nature before long.
Paul Smithson