Dope Lemon at Electric Bristol: An old school celebration of rock and roll
That old rock and roll, hey? It just won’t go away. And nor should it, for when it’s done right, it simply can’t be beaten. Last night in Electric Bristol, under the familiar comfort of a wide-rimmed hat and an all black suit, Dope Lemon delivered what was a welcome dose of good old-fashioned rock and roll.
It surprised me slightly, given the nature of the later releases. The slicker, more marketed aesthetic has brought with it a little bit more sunshine and the records have straddled a fine line between authentic rock and sleaze. The brooding anonymity of Honey Bones and Smooth Big Cat has given way to a deserved amount of performative confidence, but dare I say, the music slightly suffered for it.
But as the stage lights dimmed, and Angus Stone’s silhouette cut through the dry ice, the enigmatic mystery once again returned. Exciting as that was, it didn’t match the thrill of the set’s opening, kicked off to the powerful sound of Honey Bones’ powerhouse track ‘Stonecutters’.
The drums pounded through the track, and Stone’s guitarist delivered the meaty riff that makes this track so compelling. The near minute-long instrumental opening of the track was perfect for a crowd perhaps split in two by Dope Lemon’s discography because this made no bones about what was coming: rock and roll.
Stone’s vocals were dramatic and solely in the moment, which allowed for the lengthy instrumental breakdowns that the song and its follow-up, ‘How Many Times’, enjoyed. While it pains me to admit it, for I wholeheartedly believe in the purpose of playing contemporary records, this show was already basking in the bliss of early Dope Lemon.
It would have undoubtedly stunned newer Dope Lemon fans, who ached for the chance to slowly sway to his more tender ballads. And of course, like any good show of tension and release, Stone provided. ‘John Belushi’, ‘Slinging Dimes’, and ‘Rose Pink Cadillac’ were all played to cool effect, with the latter receiving the largest cheer for its pop sensibilities.
Sadly, the former songs were somewhat dampened by the incessant yapping of crowd members in what seems to be a growing problem in live music. Stone isn’t the chief entertainer on stage, punctuating songs with unnecessary anecdotes and jokes. Instead, he slips through the shadows and relies solely on the music to provide charisma, which he absolutely does to good effect. Somewhere along the line, the memo had got lost, and now crowds use this as an opportunity to talk over delicate interludes.
But when he dropped back into heavy hitters like ‘Coyote’ and ‘Honey Bones’, which brought out the stunning introduction of a sitar, the almost psychedelic-like charm of a Dope Lemon show became incredibly apparent.
On those early Dope Lemon albums, what struck me most about the quality of the music was the structural simplicity. The often two-chord backbone, tastefully sprinkled with bongos or piano flourishes, proved the narrative charm that exists in simplicity. Where Dope Lemon’s live show contradicts that is the evident technical skill Stone harbours as a performer. Combined, my respect for him as an artist only elevated after watching, for I realised this was a musician acutely aware of how to implement his own style.
This felt like an old-school show, in all of the best ways. The only thing ruining it was us new-school onlookers.
