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Review: Jeffrey Lewis and Les Bolts, Exchange
Jeffrey Lewis, a native of New York City, is a cult artist. The very definition of a cult artist.
Another sold out, packed room awaits him and Los Bolts. Pre-gig, he’s front of house manning his own merch stand chatting to his highly informed, devoted audience about his comic books and songs. The people who come know all about his work and his world view. He’ll be onstage soon performing these songs to an adoring room. He’ll help clear everything away at the end and then head off to a fan’s spare room which will house him and his band for the night. He’s been doing this for 20-odd years, selling out smallish rooms as he moves from town to town.
He’s long been labelled anti-folk. He’s defiantly DIY. There is nothing remotely show business about this. His simple punky folk songs, presented in the most unassuming way, are brutal in their honesty and very funny. The candid observations of the well-read, art school outsider peering with bewilderment and confusion as the world passes by. Songs about sludge are explorations of the inevitable downfall of capitalism. Phew…
is needed now More than ever
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KVcrXgAUhzk
Together with his band, they sound a bit Jonathan Richman, the more upbeat bits of Lou and The Velvets. Broken, Broken, Broken Heart could be the best Buzzcocks song that Pete Shelley didn’t write. They can do US hardcore punk and replicate the rhythmic folky strums of the Tennessee Three. They are a lot of fun.
At various points, there are interludes of projected comic books with live musical accompaniment, which are a regular feature of his shows. Tonight we were treated to a whistle-stop history of Cuba with insightful political commentary. Other times he may present his comic book thoughts on Pocahontas or The Mayflower.
Songs are old and new but his devoted crowd are held rapt by them all. The Last Time I Did Acid I Went Insane is a clever bit of observational writing, and as with all of his pieces, marked by a really smart, arch knowingness. Loudon Wainwright meets the spirit of The Ramones.
Iron Maiden and Crass have their songbooks visited. It’s always nice to have a bit of a rock out before we all head home, but even with this material, he seems to find the humanity under all that noise and bluster. Everyone is smiling.
The converted will all be back again next time he’s around, just to visit the cult of Jeffrey. You should pop by some time.
Read More: Review: Confidence Man, The Fleece
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