You can’t get more live than Beardyman. Straight from brain to audience, and sometimes from audience to brain to audience. Either way, you don’t need a brain scanner to watch where his neural pathways are leading to, and who knows how much one of those is going to cost now that we have all gone a bit racist. Someone in the audience mentioned ‘drum and b’ and no sooner had the ‘b’ escaped his lips then Beardyman created the sound of a bee apocalypse.
The demise of bees was not the only issue he wanted to raise. Music and politics have long been linked but never quite in this way. Never has Nigel Farage been MCed about. This must have been a first and last for MCing. Any object, thought or sound was open game to act as a muse, whether deliberate or accidental . The possibilities were endless.
Yet somehow half the live tracks he produced were about the male genitals. I guess men are sometimes disadvantaged by this aspect of their nature. Not being sexist but when you are twice beat boxing champion, clearly well-educated and have done your 10000 hours in what you do best… and you still have to sing about your genitals…well, just saying.
Still, it was amusing and befitting for a Thursday night in Worthing and in terms of emotional engagement he got that dead on. I did not, indeed, ‘want to be his balls’. Although chaotic and messy, there were some stand-out live improvised tracks from his ‘album per hour’ that should have been bottled, saved and then sprayed liberally during a grooving emergency.