Neil Halstead

Perhaps the people at the front were having some kind of epic moment of clarity as the singer moves her way through a none-too-chipper tune,but we at the back lost interest after two songs.Instead we had an animated discussion about something shallow,occassionally looking stage-ward to check that we weren't missing something amazing.

Maybe we needed to stand closer,but to be honest good music should be able to transcend space and time.Although Scout Niblett are competent technically (the singer can actually sing) and they were pushing all the right buttons,just sadly not in the right order.Maybe they'll get better,maybe they won't.I just needed another beer.

Beer safely in hand,and making my cold worse,I prepare for the main event.

It's cold outside and by six o'clock cars were already getting frosty.But in the corner of the Arts Cafe,sits some golden sunshine to thaw the icicles from our fingertips.

Neil Halstead sits alone with his guitar and dodgy mouth organ.Reflections from a mirror ball gliding across his face,as he begins his elegant songs.The audience instantly fall in love.

The fact that he keeps on forgetting the words only endears him further.He doesn't say much,but when he does he makes us smile more.

The true test of this man's ability to woo a crowd,is the fact that your trusty reviewer,as usual, got stuck behind the ubiquitous 'couple' (you know the type.Arms wrapped around each other,seeing more of their tongues than you need to,blah blah blah),but this didn't bother even cynical old me.I was too busy watching Halstead give a small, slightly pleased with himself smile,as he finished his last song, leaving us to go back out into the frost bitten night.

It's kind of telling that a reviewers word can't be trusted when they don't know if it's a band or an artist they're commenting on.