And to the triumphant strains of the Chariots of Fire theme, Mr Green and his gang make their entrance ... ..
Is there a wrong way to f**k a girl with no legs? Apparently not, as long as you remember to “tell her you love her as she's crawlin' away”. And the perverted New York pixie gets away with it. He’s saved by his big brown melty eyes and an easy Vegas manner. The performance seems effortless, and the many mistakes are just opportunities for more pisstaking humour.
Tonight he's abandoned the low fi anti-folk sound of the Moldy Peaches for lush string arrangements, a Bobby Darin/Andy Williams vocal style and an urban country sound that is as ‘pop’ as CD:UK. Still, he’s a vulgar wee sh*te. Why waste time on innuendo, and allusion when he can cut straight to the perverse and profane. (With lyrics that mostly detail how much he likes doing the drugs and doing the sex.)
There was also lots of friendly heckling and climbing up on stage for a hug or kiss or a bunny dance. No request was refused. Unless it was for a Moldy Peaches song. (Apparently he’s not allowed to do those anymore.)
With numerous encores – really, I lost count – Green was on stage for just under 2 hrs and for that time we forgot we were in the Scala, in skanky Kings Cross, in London town. Instead we'd all taken a small trip to Greenland.
(HA! always end on a crap pun!)
