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"Start off with the saddest thing you know / Then you've got your audience / Then it's all
your show." Thus begins The Ballad Of Hollis Wadsworth Mason Junior, one of many highlights of
Franz Nicolay's Tuesday night show at the tiny Brixton Windmill. Apart from being "the
best mariachi tribute to a retired superhero ever written" the opening line perfectly surmises
Nicolay's style of songwriting and performing.
Until very recently Nicolay was the keyboardist of The Hold Steady but his solo work
couldn't be much further away from the rock sensibilities of the Brooklyn band. Now with a
solo EP and LP behind him he's taken to a three week tour of Europe to unleash the
indie-cabaret act to which he is far better suited.
For most of the set Nicolay stands resplendent behind his vintage microphone in a suit and
hat with a full beard topped with the twirled moustache of a silent movie villain. Nicolay is
a storyteller and an entertainer in the cabaret and vaudevillian tradition of his heroes. Each
song contains characters and events one might suspect of being at least half true, and the
tales are infused brilliantly with equal measures of cunning wordplay, comedy and pathos. He
addresses the audience in a familiar tone and regales with banter about the inspiration for
each song, usually stopping mid song at least once or twice as an apparently random thought
pops in to his head.
Before, during and after the song Jeff Penalty, Nicolay tells the small but enthusiastic
crowd about the time he supported The Dead Kennedys, who were at the time fronted by
Jeff Penalty rather than the iconic front man Jello Biafra. Through
conversational interludes and the song itself we hear the tale of how the at first sceptical
crowd and support acts came to appreciate Penalty's efforts.
The Woah Oh Oh chorus of the song
sees a sing-along moment, the first in a series of audience participations which
transcend cheering and light hearted heckling. Another such moment comes in the aforementioned
Ballad. Before the solo Franz requests everyone help keep tempo with handclaps while he belts
out an admittedly great run on the squeezebox. Rhythmic clapping turns to wild applause. As
well as being an emotionally engaging storyteller he is also a singularly gifted
multi-instrumentalist.
The final song of the night, and apparently almost every night in Nicolay's shows, is a
tribute to the late, great Jimmy Durante, a personal hero of Nicolay's. He plays the
banjo and covers the waltz classic Hi Lili, Hi Lo. During the final moments of the song he
unplugs his banjo and steps away from the mic and on to the floor to sing the final
verse and chorus.
As he does, the sweetness of the moment inspires two couples to join in and
begin waltzing across the floor. It gets crowded and clumsy down the front, but the ramshackle
confusion is a perfect fit for the show, which has been an almost anarchic and freeform
tribute to musicians, lovers and heroes.
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