Bobby Conn at Clwb

Bobby Conn at Clwb, May 3, 2007

Days of not enough sleep (and no sleep at all) possibly lends itself to watching a guy like Bobby Conn, who has that dissolute magic of a spectre of the night, a man who’s forsaken all mediocre life necessities in the name of some wild faux-glam. And what a good thing faux-glam is, taking the risibility of glam, smashing it to pieces, and making magic with its parts. Wearing an outlandish red Adidas tracksuit, zip cast half way down his chest to reveal a meaty chest medallion, and a smile The Joker would be proud of, Conn is a crazy enough diversion without his music, but there’s also the fact that he plays as well as looks like a trashy demon of the night. Waiting for the insane nugget that is ‘Never Get Ahead’ (shamefully it’s the only Conn number I know) I’m treated to a glittery, mischievous assault on the more outré Bowie archives, guitars flying like giant bats in the night and eyeliner pulsing with subtle rebellion, and when ‘Never Get Ahead’ comes it’s a fucking inspiration, midweek shackles heaving under the compulsion to dance mad shapes and sing poetry. Bobby Conn is Pop. Bobby Conn is fucking ace. NJ

© Miwsig