Week 41

Week 41 – Thursday 13th October – Emmy The Great – Clwb Ifor Bach, Cardiff – £13.50

“She’s fine, but she’s not great. . .”

Alexander The Great, Alfred The Great and Peter The Great (not to be confused with Peter The Magnificent). What do they all have in common? None of them are great singer-songwriters. Emmy The Great however, is. Well, she’s not great, but she was the main attraction for Sandro and me in Week 41. 

Emma-Lee Moss is the girl behind the stage name. Neither Sandro nor I would claim to be fans (unless she asked us in a threatening tone), not in the sense that we both dislike her and were attending purely to heckle and throw empty yoghurt pots her way, but in the sense that we hadn’t listened to any of her music. Yet.

“She’s fine, but she’s not great,” is something I decided and declared towards the end of her set. It wasn’t intended as a demeaning and possibly sexist comment. It just came out that way. “She’s fine,” wasn’t (just) an allusion to her looks. She was fine in the sense that she was OK. As in: decent, not bad, alright. 

Closer to praise than criticism, surely? I long for the day when I’m described in such glowing terms.

Certainly, Emmy The Great is a better nickname than Emmy The Decent, but if you set the standards high with your epithet you risk disappointing people, which is why Sandro sings under the name, Sandro The Quite Clearly Incapable and Slightly Hairy.  

Saying “she’s not great,” was only to say that she isn’t ‘Great’ great, in the sense that she wasn’t born great, she’s yet to achieve greatness, and as far as I can tell she hasn’t had greatness thrust upon her, although that can be tough to tell.

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Emmy was playing at Clwb Ifor Bach so Sandro and I met for a pre-gig pint at Dempsey’s around the corner. 

I must admit that out of all uneventful Gigaweeks, this was arguably the most uneventful of all. There were no encounters with unusual taxi drivers or homeless people, so frankly there’s very little to say.

Sandro had been to see Cloud Control on Tuesday at Buffalo, but I’d been unable to join him for that one, so I asked him to share his thoughts.

“They were good,” he said.

“Ok, but were there any unusual taxi drivers or homeless people?” I probed.

“No. None at all,” he replied glumly.

“Really? Never mind. Any appearances by third rate celebrities?” I asked.

“Does Phillip Schofield count?” Sandro replied.

“Yes, of course!” I said excitedly, Schofe being a hero of mine.

“Ok. No, none,” Sandro answered.

“Damn. Any fights or drug related deaths?” I asked hopefully.

“I’m afraid not,” he replied. 

“What a terrible week,” I sighed.

I knew very little of Emmy The Great beforehand, but Tim Wheeler lookalike P. Mushy was kind enough to let us know who she goes out with (not P. Mushy). Worryingly for Sandro, she’s also a friend of, and has worked with, Noah and The Whale. 

Sandro holds Noah in almost as high regard as Texas and can’t listen to a chord from them without stabbing himself in the ear with a spoon. I try to play ‘L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N’ at least once a day.

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First up on stage was founding member of Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci, Richard James, who is now a solo singer-songwriter himself. His performance was fairly low-key and he was pretty downbeat, describing himself as a “miserable fucker,” which was probably unfair, but I’m sure he knows best.

During his set it dawned on me that I actually owned his first album, The Seven Sleepers Den, so I showed it off on my iPod to Sandro.

“Congratulations,” he said. 

I’ve no idea why I did that.

More support followed from Stealing Sheep (who aren’t on my iPod), a trio of Liverpudlian ladies who were similarly soft and slow. 

“A pleasant listen, if not one to stir the soul,” I declared in the voice of Stuart Hall. Aggressive young men like Sandro and I bore of this stuff quite quickly though, so we were hoping for some death metal from Emmy.  

The venue was fairly full by the time she and her band took the stage. It was quiet. Presumably most of those present had a better idea of what to expect than me. 

Most of the audience seemed interested and familiar with her music, and she interacted quite a bit with them. Amazingly the Welsh language and our interesting road signs didn’t come up.

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From what I’ve read about Emmy and the two albums she’s released so far, her lyrics receive a lot of praise and seem highly regarded by critics. Unknown lyrics aren’t always easy to appreciate live, so I’ll take their word for it. She did play a song called ‘Dinosaur Sex’ though.

She made a mistake in pronunciation that Sandro and I did pick up on, and then sniggered at remorselessly. Attempting to praise the upcoming Sŵn festival, she referred to it as ‘Swin’ rather than ‘Soon’. What kind of Anglo-Chinese girl can’t speak Welsh?

As with the previous forty Gigaweeks you had to be there.

Aside from that she was fine and dandy. She chatted frequently and asked the locals what the best thing about Cardiff is. 

“You are!” was the reply from one smitten wally.

On balance, she had a lovely voice and her music was easy on the ear. Her lyrics may well be literate, insightful and intelligent, to those who are literate, insightful and intelligent enough to have listened to her beforehand. 

As such it would be foolish to be critical. But she wasn’t great, which is why I said, “she’s fine, but she’s not great.”

Sandro doesn’t mince his words quite like I do.

“She’s fit, but she’s shit,” he said generously.

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October

1-7 – Pete & The Pirates + Gruff Rhys - ✓
8-14 – Emmy The Great - ✓
15-21 – Sŵn
22-28 – Sŵn + John Mayall