The gentleman to my right was in visible agony during Isolde’s Liebestod. He knew exactly what to expect having heard – and hated – Schnaut at Bayreuth, and he still bought a ticket. If there are any waverers out there, the best advice I can give is to listen to BBC Radio 3’s live broadcast on 9 November while studying a large lava lamp. It’s cheaper, you’ll get the general idea, and at least you’ll be comfortable.’Tristan und Isolde’: Royal Opera House, London WC2 (020 7304 4000), to 9 November. Call me foolhardy, but I’d bet that Joseph Washbourn has smoked more dope in his time than the entire shadow cabinet put together. The frizzy-haired singer/songwriter/keyboard player of Toploader, Washburn is the man behind such lyrics as “Don’t fret, get high/ There’s a new dawn that says hi” and “Circles appear in my mind / Floating through space and through time”.
Just to give Ann Widdecombe even more to worry about, Toploader’s debut album has been hanging around the top 40 like a fug of acrid smoke since its release in May – all this despite being handicapped by the worst title ever printed on a record sleeve, Onka’s Big Moka. What more terrifying evidence could there be of the marijuana epidemic that is munching at the very foundations of British society?
Call me foolhardy, but I’d bet that Joseph Washbourn has smoked more dope in his time than the entire shadow cabinet put together. The frizzy-haired singer/songwriter/keyboard player of Toploader, Washburn is the man behind such lyrics as “Don’t fret, get high/ There’s a new dawn that says hi” and “Circles appear in my mind / Floating through space and through time”. Just to give Ann Widdecombe even more to worry about, Toploader’s debut album has been hanging around the top 40 like a fug of acrid smoke since its release in May – all this despite being handicapped by the worst title ever printed on a record sleeve, Onka’s Big Moka. What more terrifying evidence could there be of the marijuana epidemic that is munching at the very foundations of British society?
If there is another reason for Toploader’s success, it wasn’t immediately apparent at their show on Thursday, the first of two nights at the Shepherd’s Bush Empire. Visually, all that distinguished the quintet from a Faces tribute band was Washbourn, sitting behind a keyboard centre-stage, and shaking a mop of curls that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Roger Daltrey at the Isle Of Wight Festival. Aurally, Toploader belong in the same era as the Faces and the Isle of Wight, too.
Their breakthrough hit, “Dancing In The Moonlight”, is a cover of a song which came out in 1972 and all the evidence suggests that it’s the most modern record in Washbourn’s collection.Toploader have been extraordinarily successful for such an ordinary band. Their old-fashioned rock’n'roll boogies have more in the way of polish and positivity than of memorable tunes, so it’s tempting to resent their speedy ascent. Or it would be, if there weren’t so much unforced bonhomie to their performance. Washbourn’s sterling defence of his hometown, Eastbourne, was particularly charming “You wait ’til you’re 65,” he chided the crowd. “There’s no better place to retire.” The music benefits from this mateyness, too. There was a sequence in “Dancing In The Moonlight” when the bassist and both guitarists all clapped their hands above their heads at once, and it did me good to see such sweetly unironic enthusiasm.Unlike some of the British musicians who boycott any record released in their lifetime, Toploader don’t aspire to be profound or misunderstood. They make straightforwardly upbeat party music, peppered with Elton John piano solos, rock opera harmonies and hippy platitudes – nothing more or less.
If they happen to have sold a quarter-of-a-million albums by filling a gap in the market, don’t blame Toploader. Blame those angst-ridden, self-regarding bands who left the gap in the first place.Willard Grant Conspiracy aren’t angst-ridden or self-regarding, but they’re about as far from Toploader’s chirpiness as you can get. Several songs on their new album, Everything’s Fine, appear to have been written by jumbling up a set of Nick Cave fridge magnets: crows, sin, the Devil, redemption, knives, blood and whiskey are all present and correct. Robert Fisher’s deep, knowing voice is like Nick Cave’s, too.
