Music

Julian Cope

La Belle Angele, Edinburgh

Brian Donaldson

three stars

AN AVOWED teetotaller for some time, Julian Cope has used his rediscovered appetite for alcohol as fuel for new work. The Wales-born adopted-Liverpudlian’s well-documented recreational use of other substances opened up the doors of production for a back-catalogue that has inspired and infuriated in similar measure, but Drunken Songs feels at times a little sodden.

Taking to the stage in his now trademark military cap, shades and straggly hair and beard, Britain’s foremost antiquarian rocker rolled out the tales that led to him swapping chalk circles for cheap rounds. His research into Armenian prehistoric caves resulted in a career-changing mulberry vodka session and tunes emerged such as tonight’s As the Beer Flow Over Me and Liver Big as Hartlepool (a loving spoonerism to the city where he made his post-punk name with the Teardrop Explodes).

In a live context, the new songs are enjoyable enough as sozzled shanties or libatious lullabies but they all feel rather anaemic when set here against more potent 90s likes of Pristeen, Paranormal in the West Country and his lone encore number, The Greatness and Perfection of Love from the mid-80s.

But enough of the music: what of the Arch Drood’s legendary in-between song banter? This time, the balance felt overly-skewed towards chit-chat with every four-minute number drowned by rambling anecdotes double that length. One slightly curious rant against folk music and its ethos of encouraging anyone to have a go would have soured some moods while the closest we came to a heckle was a brief back-and-forth concerning the feud of inventors Nikola Tesla and Thomas Edison.

While his current crop of sonic musings and storytelling meanderings might not quite match the quality of yore, this perennial son of anarchy will always be worth a shout.