MUCH-maligned piano pop God BEN FOLDS proves that age doesn't necessarily give
you wisdom.
He's still making mistakes and still singing about them in gory detail.
And mostly it's mistakes involving girls.
Although Folds' tracks trade in torment and heartache, his wit lifts it all
above pure self-indulgence - the lyrics he pens mean his songs always soar
in the places where most singer-songwriters' material falls flat.
He winked his way through Landed and joked around during Underground, claiming
that: "I'm gonna wear sweatpants next time I play here and pull them up
real tight so you can see my nutsack." Okay then.
But that's only half the Ben Folds story, because these are songs about real
heartbreak and real pain - and that's why they reach into peoples' souls.
Not The Same makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up - not least
when the entire of the Empire sings along to the harmonies led by Ben stood
on top of a piano.
This Glastonbury warm-up was the first time he's played London in over a year
and he debuted some untitled new material.
The scruffy singer also asked the audience to decide whether they thought the
forthcoming new album should be called The Frowned Song, or We Praise Thy
Name.
That audience consisted of a sprinkling of Shepherd's Bush's cutest couples,
but mostly a sea of gawky-looking blokes who were clearly total losers in
love and sang along with every word.
Ben manages to maintain consistency, and hearing the new tracks tonight for
the first time we're excited about what the new album may herald.
Never universally acclaimed despite his slick song-writing brilliance, the
lyrics to set-closer Army sum Folds up in his own words: 'My peers criticise
me / my ex-wives all despise me / and my redneck past keeps nipping at my
heels.'
