John MOuse slays the Deaf Institute with his own brand of idiosyncratic, anarchic creativity that begs the question "Why on earth isn't he better known?"
There was man of age.
Where?
There on the stage!
Where on the stage?
Right there!
...oh hang on...he's in the audience now.
Far too short a time was spent in the company of John MOuse tonight as he enthralled the Deaf Institute in Manchester with a solo set that was all things; funny, sad, loud, quiet, danceable, thought provoking and compellingly attention grabbing. He is currently supporting Piroshko, an outfit put together from the embers of Britpop who are also well worth catching as a current, vibrant entity and not simply as a means to wallow in nostalgia.
But back to Mr MOuse.
It all began when a trenchcoated pigeon ambled onto the stage, pressed his keyboard, played a sample of Simply Red, wandered over to a lectern, observed the crowd like Nero at the colosseum looking down upon some soon to be fresh meat gladiators, returned to the keyboard and pressed another button that summoned up a dark, Wagnerian building crescendo that would lead into the first song. The pigeon then wandered off into the crowd again, removed his head, and like an errant knight looking for someone upon whom to bestow his Excalibur, placed it into the arms of a suitably trustworthy audience member. John MOuse (for the pigeon was he) then climbed back up onto the stage and began to throw some outrageous shapes to the now pulsating dance vibes echoing around the Institute.
In all my years of trudging around the music venues of these Isles I don't recall a gig beginning in quite such a way. This introduction would count for nothing of course if he didn't have the songs to back up such a quirky entrance, but he does and his back catalogue is a dizzying array of genres all upholstered with some of the cleverest, and at times, funniest lyrics you are likely to hear.
In the same way I used to look forward to the release of a new The Smiths and Morrissey album (because you knew that in amongst those generally serious yet wonderfully, sparkling songs there would be a couplet or line that would make you "kill yourself laughing") I now look forward to a John MOuse release. Whether he is regaling us about injuries caused by Kerplunk sticks, his lack of height bringing his goalkeeping ambitions to a premature end, or creating titles like The King and Jesus Ganged Up On Me, he always manages to stab his acute observations on the absurdities of life with intelligence, wordplay and a keen sense of humour. You just know that if John Peel was still with us, he would love John MOuse and he would be a staple of his shows.
The opening dance vibes morphed into the incredible O'Sullivan, Reardon, Doherty, Bond, an astonishing track overlaid with a tale of petty disputes, cat shit, legal boundaries and jogging and tonight it sees John MOuse grooving for all he's worth like Jarvis Cocker on speed. There is also a nod to Manchester in the Dance, Dance, Dance bridge, but I am not sure even Ian Curtis would win a dance off with the Welsh waltzer up on stage.
The White Witch (imagine Leonard Cohen backed by Frank Sidebottom) soundtracks a common childhood memory for many, that of a local female character, who due to some quirks of behaviour was deemed to be a witch. Every town has one and this is part of the joy in listening to John MOuse; there are lots of relatable reference points in his songs especially for those having grown up in working class areas of the U.K.. The White Witch is full of comic, stalker-y menace and MOuse has the audience rapt with this tale of childhood derring-do.
Dancing slacks are donned again for the mysterious Use Neutral Tones to Accent Eyes which, and I might be totally off kilter here but then given who we are talking about that would be apt, seems to be offering make up tips to a pre cosmetic surgery patient. On researching this song (I don't just make this shit up you know) I discovered that it "has a BPM of 150 and (is in) the key of D Major" which doesn't really help us much. It is wacky and catchy and tonight saw the first outbreak of audience participation because MOuse had again scrambled off the stage and was spinning and whirling suggestively amongst them, exhorting them to dance with him. There were smiles, compliance and yet some had the confused countenance of people simply thinking "What the fuck is this?", looking as if they were considering the choice between joining in, or reporting MOuse as someone who might need sectioning.
The strange accoutrement that the singer had worn at the beginning of the show made sense now as MOuse mined 2020's The Goat for the third time this evening in setting free Le Pigeon. The catchy, insistent keyboard riff sets the scene for the tale of a man trapped in his flat because a pigeon has got into the building and is in the hallway blocking his route. The self disgust in the line "I needed a pee, but I couldn't go to the communal toilet, so I looked at the sink..."is apparent as is the abject surrender of the narrator's self identity as a result of this avian confrontation. MOuse has even devised a dance move to go with the chorus, although in a which came first, the pigeon or the egg type scenario, he might have to fight Everton footballer Richarlison for the copyright.
Many of John MOuse's lyrics touch upon childhood/teen years and if these are autobiographical vignettes then he is deserving of a huge hug, because some of them are poignantly heartbreaking. Robbie Savage is a case in point, the titular hero simply being a vehicle for MOuse to detail the heart wrenching break up of a family. Unfortunately he did not play it tonight, but conversely proffered A Well-Planned Party which details a different type of traumatic event. "It was the best form of birth control, seeing her in her camisole" he begins, "her" being his mother who was throwing an Ann Summers party with similarly attired friends. The narrator is watching breathlessly through a peephole. The song's urgency reflects the motion of one of his limbs as he sates himself with computer images. A Well-Planned Party is the darker big brother of Pulp's Babies and whilst MOuse's musical accompaniment on The Goat is reminiscent of The Sleaford Mods, his lyrics are more concerned with the politics of the self, at times innocent, at others seedy.
That's Just The Way Our Love Is from album The Death of John MOuse acts as a metaphorical shower to wash away the sleaze as we return to sweeter territory. The lyrical dexterity -"These little fights, nights apart/break my arm and twist my heart" and "The stolen looks, the takeaways/The Chinese burns that last for days" - along with the euphoric chorus combine to create the type of song that couples might bellow at at a festival and describe as "our song", and we therefore return once more to the big question: Why on earth isn't he better known? Maybe its his stage name (often confused with John Maus), maybe some people simply don't get it, maybe he is just ahead of his time. It is mystifying to say the least.
Normally MOuse performs with a band, but the electronic nature of The Goat means that for this quick jaunt support slot they are currently surplus to requirements. This therefore is one of his first solo shows and yet you cannot take your eyes off the stage such is his innate electric, ability as a frontman. He launches himself across the stage; into the audience, outrages with his unique dance moves, and for a split second threatens to expose flesh like a modern-day Jim Morrison, (who incidentally pop pickers and given the nationality of our hero, appropriately exposed himself on St David's Day 1969). MOuse is a captivating artist (and an artist in the true sense) who deserves far more credit and much bigger audiences.
The Man Down The Road is a disturbing Lynchian tale on two fronts. Firstly the 'man' of the title might have mental health issues, and secondly the response of the narrator to seeing this half dressed vision of strangeness is to smash his living room window, the repetition of which suggests he gained a visceral thrill in doing so. However by the following morning the window is boarded up, by afternoon replaced, and by evening the man down the road is back bothering the narrator. It is a thought provoking and disturbing song so it is a relief that some of MOuse's trademark kookiness ends the show with the joyous opening riff and immediacy of Buy-to-Let Industry Expert. Then with a smile and a salute he was gone.
John MOuse really is a one-off. If you have an open mind, an ear for a good tune and a brain for good lyrics he will be right up your street. It may well be that he is difficult to pigeon(ahem)hole given the different array of genres in which he dabbles, but whether you get 'it' or don't, one thing is guaranteed, YOU WILL BE ENTERTAINED.
Twitter: @JohnMouseMusic
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