Friday 25/03/05 Graham Coxon, 22-20’s @ Double Door, Chicago

March 29, 2005 by Josh Cox

Impossible not to feel like a twat whilst standing in line for an autograph, enduring the taunts from the paragons of exquisite hipness, but we’ll risk it, just this once. After all, we’re journalists, and it isn’t everyday Graham Coxon is in town. So many questions, where to begin? Tower Records clerk, you say the queue starts with me? By all means, sir, please step ahead. No, I insist. I’ve an interview to ponder. And I want to see the look on Coxon’s face when you ask him to sign your limited edition gatefold booklet of collected Blur B-sides. Earlier, during the acoustic session, when we all sat Indian-style like polite young hippies, some dimwit in the back requested “She’s So High.” Coxon clammed up, made a face like someone had spiked his tea with Tabasco. Will the singer laugh it off or will he pummel the bargain bin PA into a pulpy mess of circuitry? Just in time, some dunce outside the window, directly behind Coxon, minimizes the menace of the situation by opening wide the flaps of his jacket to reveal, with devil horns and snarl, his allegiance to Judas Priest. We laughed, and because we were laughing, Graham grinned.

Makeup, please, we’re on in less than one minute. Broiling in the glow of the studio lights, the establishing credits roll in conjunction with the introductory theme music – Bittersweet Bundle of Misery.

(announcer)

And now, BBC America is proud to present…Cox on Coxon.

(polite applause)

Good evening. With me tonight, as always, Mr. Graham Coxon ladies and gentleman.

(riotous applause)

--Welcome, sir.

--Well thank you for having me.

--As you know, this Easter weekend has been a bit Six Degrees of Stephen Street Separation. Did you happen to catch Kaiser Chiefs last night?

--Sadly I was skyward, floating in from San Francisco.

--Will you be sticking round for The Dears on Easter Monday? Before you answer that, Master Peter Doherty, is he well?

“Hey guy, you’re up.”

Tower clerk snaps Gigwise out of Rupert Pupkinland (ask your cinephile uncle, the one who’s a Scorsese nut) and back into reality. He leads us to the table where the singer is waiting. Christ, this is like meeting Santa Claus.

Tongue-tied, the Transcopic paraphernalia spills out of our pockets. Time is scarce, son, start asking those hard-hitting questions!

“Er, so what ever became of these guys?” Gigwise asks Coxon, while holding aloft the environmentally friendly jewel box that houses the debut from Mower.

“I dunno,” sniffs Coxon, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, “they’re LOONIES.”

“That Beck song,” Gigwise says, in reference to a stillborn attempt Coxon made at covering a hidden gem on Stereopathic Soul Manure, “you gotta do that one tonight.”

“Rowboat,” says Coxon. “That song was Rowboat. D’ya know Rowboat?”

Easy there, tiger! Gigwise may not be the sharpest ice pick in the drawer, but we do know that ‘plastic donut / can of Spam’ is not Rowboat. Not that we’re gonna argue with you or anything. Sheesh.

He’s signing your CD. Now that’s a fine time for a sign-off.

“Right, then (clears throat). Rockin the khakis and the red Converse, making converts of us all, a big hand, ladies and gentlemen, to Mr. Graham Coxon.”

(closing credits, “Coffee & TV”)

The show proper…

Support act 22-20s play to a packed house but only one soul, save Gigwise, appears to know who they are. This band has been bottled up on the shelf now a good three years but Martin Trimble’s gang have finally ripened to an incendiary vintage. Projectile corks go Molotov. When Elliott Smith wrote 'Bottle Up and Explode', he must have had some foresight for the 22-20s. The only thing that keeps this band from devouring the universe is the predictable cadence of their song titles – 'Such a Fool', 'Shoot Your Gun', 'I’m the One'. 'One-two-three'. Blah blah blah. Watch it, boys. Keep that up and you’ll soon be sounding like the Ordinary Talk Talk Boys Talk. Still, if you’re wondering what became of The White Stripes, the 22-20s have stolen their soul. They gave a better offer to the Devil at the crossroads. Trimble is the fashion plate of the evening, decked in black from collar to heel, and it’s always hard to argue with a good pair of Levis action slacks.

Our headliner, on the other hand, steps on stage looking like he has just been teleported from acrylics vs. oils, easel-canvas land. All stripey shirt and silk ascot, music is not Graham Coxon’s be-all, end-all and the songs sound all the better for it. Before the first song is even finished, those legendary specs are disposed of, with a speed to shame Ross Futurehead. ‘Spectacular’, ‘Hopeless Friend’, ‘No Good Time’, they’re all here and immaculate. Coxon even tosses in a cover. ‘Fame & Fortune’. “Do any of you know of a band named Mission of Burma?” Well, duh, Graham. You’re in Chicago, for God’s sake, not Cousinlove, Louisiana.

'All Over You' sounds as good as it does on record, with its swelling strings suitably substituted by synths. Back at the acoustic in-store session, Coxon introduced his megahit of the century by saying, “This song sounds better with drums and, uh, electric guitars.” No excuse needed. ‘Freaking Out’ would sound good if Cliff Richard performed it. Coxon’s closing encore crush of “People of the Earth” has attendees afterward remarking that he looked like he was “pogoing on his head,” but the biggest surprise of the night is that his backup guitarist is Tim from The Office.

“Any Tim Canterbury fans in here?”

By God, he’s not joking. Through a haze of smuggled Canadian whiskey and bottom shelf spirits, Gigwise returns to its journalistic duties. The moment those two hanger-on munters belly back to the bar, we make our move. The obvious inquiry, "Are you Tim from The Office?" is deemed useless within ten seconds of conversation. This person is short, more diminutive, even, than our inherent dwarfism. He also speaks in reedy tones. Surely, Tim from The Office was statuesque and possessing a sonorous and resonant tenor. Whoever he is, he is personable. "Tim" shares with Gigwise tantalizing tales of modern rock splendor, like the time, last November, when Graham and company were working out a cover of 'Time for Heroes' with a pissed and could-care-less Pete Doherty. “Four goes in, we had a better version than he did.” In addition, we have improbable scorn for Kaiser Chiefs! “When we left [the U.K.], they were number three in the charts…Why?”

And finally, there was the issue of having to perform on the same bill with Norman Cook!! “We had to follow Fatboy Slim at South by Southwest. It was brutal.” Sorry, Tim from The Office, but our time is up. Thanks to you and to Graham Coxon for making our Easter a dream.

(fade out, roll credits, 'Time for Heroes')

Photo by Josh Cox

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