Late, after underestimating Saturday night restaurant traffic and the distance to the academy from the Northern Quarter, we arrived at the uni venue halfway through the support’s set. With two-pinters unavailable, I snaked through the crowd with both hands inconveniently occupied for throwing in the air, awkward forearm clapping and aggressive waving as seemed to be integral to this act, the audience doubling over either side of the wave enough to cause pre-meditated back pain. I’d never heard of Oliver Tree, but the red goggles, bowl cut, scooter and eccentric dance moves along with a 21 Pilots sound had me immediately jerking along spilling warm carlsberg on myself on every beat. By this time I’m sticky and clapping seems less attractive, but by all means this band deserved it and I’m invested in going to see a full show of theirs.
And so, after some audience appropriate early 2000s disco tunes (much appreciated), and a beer refill, they arrived. Hobo Johnson (AKA Frank), donned in a red hoodie too-tightly pulled around his face, and his Lovemakers. This was the biggest venue they’d played, but his poetic verse and stories about wanting a dog have a weirdly captivating air about them and they didn’t struggle to fill the space. Maybe it’s something in his always-sounds-like-he’s-smiling voice and unpredictable phrasing…and pauses, suddenly interjected with tearing shouts of anger and frustration. He captures the millennial fury and confusion and life’s-not-fair attitude about love and all things in between through his stream of consciousness lyrics - emotions displayed openly. We saw a normal guy on a stage. He’s verbalising his diary. He’s prepared to share his vulnerability that he’s turned into art. He’s hurt. Aren’t we all? You’d find it hard to argue that with the band and a room of 2000 people - ‘I love the thought of being with you, or maybe it’s the thought of not BEING SO ALONE’. And hey, it’s a very relatable lyric. And so obvious. In my opinion, no one’s been able to articulate it quite so well. Maybe it’s because we’re scared of stating the obvious through music and feel the need to hide everything in a metaphor. Go and listen to Hobo Johnson and the Lovemakers, and get ready for him to take over your heart. Or at least your spare time.
Peach.
Scone.
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