Live: Pop Levi (Manchester Academy 3, 25.4.07.)

There are a lot of things that I’d like to say about Pop Levi. One of those things would be that he’s a shiny, flamboyant beacon in an increasingly beige British music scene. Another would be that he’s some kind of perverted saviour of pop; the offspring of a tryst involving Marc Bolan, Prince and Arthur Brown at Woodstock in ’69. I’d also like to say that he’s one of the best live acts around and more fun than a barrelful of chimpanzees on LSD.

I’d like to say these things, but I can’t. I can’t say them because they’re not true. There’s something just so lightning-in-a-bottle brilliant about Pop Levi that never really makes itself known. The idea of Pop Levi is a lot more appealing than the execution. That’s not to say that he doesn’t have some great tunes, he does – his debut album, The Return To Form Black Magick Party is one of the year-thus-far’s most pleasantly surprising debuts, all sparkly pop and reinvigorated vintage riffing – but all that is made redundant by a couple of fatal flaws in Pop Levi’s multi-coloured façade.

First up, the complete lack of sincerity is totally off-putting. I’m not a subscriber to the idea that pop music has to be sincere or meaningful to be great, but the artist has to believe in it for it to carry weight. Pop Levi substitutes conviction for studied, well-worn rock poses and gimmicks. Everything that the guy does has been pilfered from music’s past. He does the Angus Young bent-double head shake around five times too many for it to be considered mere homage. He also stares down the girls in the front row, lasciviously, like every rocker with a raging libido since the fifties has. All the shapes that Levi throws just come off as clowning, thus undoing the good work done by his songs.

Another flaw is that he’s way too sure of himself to be likeable. I like a pop star with a bit of arrogance but Pop Levi just takes the biscuit. He’s playing a room the size of a shoebox, yet he thinks he’s onstage at Wembley, pyrotechnics and dancing girls flanking him. This is an ultimately alienating move on his part. We like our stars to be on a pedestal, but not one that they’ve built for themselves. Even the most seemingly unapproachable talent like Morrissey has an affinity with his fans to the point that he’s constantly touching hands with the front row at gigs and throwing his shirts into the crowd for the sweaty, be-quiffed hordes to fight over like dogs after a bone. Pop Levi’s over-inflated opinion of himself creates a distance between audience and artist that seems unassailable due to his complete lack of self-awareness. You don’t get to be a star just because you decide it, you are anointed by the public and, car advert soundtrack aside, what would the average man on the street know about him if pressed?

Lastly, for all the sweat that pours from his face, there’s no real effort been put into making the songs that jump out of the speakers in technicolour on the album work in a live setting. Stretching out the intro to opening gambit, ‘Sugar Assault Me Now’ to an interminable length (it was probably about five minutes, but it felt like five hours) might have seemed like a good idea in the rehearsal room as an exercise in heightening anticipation, therefore making the eventual release all the more emphatic. In actuality, it just bores and infuriates, ultimately flattening what should have been a knockout blow. Also, ‘(A Style Called) Cryin’ Chic’, so oddly exotic and evocatively patchouli-stained on record, like some previously unearthed Donovan masterpiece, is put asunder by a weary, passionless delivery.

There are good points though that point to Pop Levi maybe learning from his missteps in the future. ‘Blue Honey’, even without the handclaps that give the song that added something on the album, is a delight and one of the few songs that live up to its recorded counterpoint. Also, set closer, ‘Dollar Bill Rock’ is transformed into a restless, itchy wig-out that’s worthy of Levi’s influences.

It’s just not enough though and the calculated lecherousness just comes off as creepy most of the time. If he ever comes down off the ego trip he’s on, then he just might have a shot at attaining the status he thinks he already has. He’s got the tunes after all.

http://www.rachaelburns.net/html/music/2007/04/gig-review-pop-levi-mancheser-academy-3.html