Blur guitarist Graham Coxon launches Oxjam in Dalston
Oxjamming in Dalston: Graham Coxon. Photograph: Dan Medhurst
A charity shop on Kingsland Road seems a slightly strange venue to go watch the lead guitarist of one of Britain’s biggest ever indie bands perform.
But tonight, on this drizzly, bleary-eyed Monday, Graham Coxon of Blur is not just playing a gig.
Well no, actually – he is. But he is also launching Oxfam’s nationwide Oxjam festival. A worthy cause by all accounts that will see hundreds of music lovers across the UK hosting local gigs throughout October to raise large amounts of cash for the charity.
Support act Theme Park kick proceedings off, playing a few gently twangy songs reminiscent of Bloc Party, who they’ll be supporting next month. After the Talking Heads-esque ‘Milk’ suddenly ignites the attention of the audience, one of them speaks in an arrestingly posh voice about how thrilled they are to be doing this before they scuttle offstage to make way for the main event.
When he appears, Coxon looks spookily similar to twenty years ago when his band first arrived on the scene, fresh from Goldsmiths art college. He hasn’t aged a whole lot in the interim and is wearing his trademark thick-rimmed glasses, which he takes off during the first song and never attempts to put back on. Presumably he can still see ok though because the guitar-playing is top-notch, as he effortlessly glides and strums his way through the first few numbers, unleashing some potentially tinnitus-causing reverb on City Hall from new kraut rock influenced album, A+E.
You can tell music is Coxon’s life; it’s etched onto his face. He’s released eight of his own solo albums, four of which were recorded during his time in Blur. Yet there is still something vulnerable, untrusting and anarchic about him after all this time and success. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t really know what’s wrong with me,” he repeats incessantly on What’ll It Take from the new LP, slowly building up to an uncomfortable crescendo that has members of the audience glancing around nervously.
Coxon strikes as a bit of a Peter Pan figure: He can’t grow old; in our minds or on stage. The music on his new offering is intentionally basic: angry guitar, repetitive lyrical refrains and lots of paranoid, insecure hormonal noise. It’s music that works best in a performance setting such as this, where its energy can properly come alive.
“This is a childish song, as opposed to my extremely mature other material,’ he says wryly before launching into Girl Done Gone from his 2004 album, Happiness in Magazines. There’s no denying Coxon is an eminently likeable character – not least for his self-awareness. It’s clear he has the audience in his unassuming grasp from the moment he first speaks, saying: “This is good isn’t it? I mean, generally.” His timing – already about four intense songs deep – is perfect.
A consummate professional, he ensures to play the bigger indie pop singles from 2006’s Love Travels At Illegal Speeds as the set progresses to a joyous reaction from the crowd.
The closer is Sorrow’s Army from previous album The Spinning Top, a departure that saw him plucking hollowed out instruments for a Nick Drake-esque style attempt at folk music. Although he may know his strong suit of noisy riffs and simple hooks – to which he has returned – no one could reasonably accuse this man of lacking a sense of musical adventure.
Throughout the night, Coxon darts occasional shy, infectious smiles to the session musicians, but mainly focuses on his playing, nodding his head furiously to the beat. As he shuffles quietly offstage to consciously genteel applause, we are reminded that, even in this age of celebrity, there are still those who would much rather you didn’t make a fuss.