G is for Gigs – Part 2: Sam Amidon
by Eoghan
Half Moon Theatre, Cork – 29th May, 2011
If you only ever listened to his records, you’d expect Sam Amidon to be an earnest and maybe even solmen performer. Many of the songs he sings are almost two hundred years old and filled with tales of murder and death, lost love and emigration; they’re painful stories that seem heavy with the weight of history.
But, refreshingly, Amidon is far from solemn; in fact he’s disarmingly charming and really quite funny. Throughout the gig in the intimate Half Moon Theatre, he seems to improvise bizarre back-stories to old murder ballads. There’s the story about the tiny desk people, talking on an elastic band bridge stretched between his fingers and the one about being a novelist, working on a book called King’s Speechy for which you only have one sentence written, which occurs half-way through the second chapter (“From this point on, you and I are adversaries!”). He talks about how he often seems to end up in Ireland on or around his birthday (it’s on June 3), something which has happened ever since he was 15. Amidon appears relaxed on stage and happy to be there, which always makes the difference. His off-beat, playful sense of humour even wanders into the music every so often, wailing along to an extended folk/blues guitar solo or making other strange noises whenever the whim takes him.
Tonight, he’s invited along the Cork Sacred Harp shape note singers who kick off the gig with Amidon, singing a few old American songs of praise. He invites them up twice more during the night, once as a quick interval and again during the encore. They sing at the tops of their voices, four part harmonies resounding around the small venue. It’s stirring stuff. Amidon explains that he grew up with that kind of music, talking about how they would have singing sessions on random days in his house when he was small.
But for all the entertaining banter, it’s when Amidon closes his eyes and really sings those old folk songs that the audience are treated to something very special. He has an astounding ability to entrance a crowd; his calm, simple, sometimes creaky voice conveying an earnestness and conviction that keeps people hanging on every word. He seems to let the songs speak for themselves, giving you a sense of the history and life of the characters and stories. It feels almost as if the spirit of each song hangs in the air above the audience until scattered by hearty applause. A special mention really has to go to Amidon’s bassist/drummer/laptop-ist, Chris Vatalaro, who never over-shadows the songs but instead helps to flesh them out through simple but evocative and atmospheric playing.
As is, by now, almost customary, Sam Amidon chooses to end the night with his gorgeous version of R Kelly’s Relief. This, to those who aren’t familiar with him, seems like a bizarre choice given all the other songs to which the audience has been treated tonight. But Amidon approaches the song what that same sense of earnestness and honesty and creates something beautiful. Acknowledging the songs “subtle relation to reality”, Amidon nevertheless manages to have the crowd sing “What a relief to know that/ there are angels in the sky” and make it feel truly uplifting, sending them out into the night with warm smiles and high hearts.
