David Kitt
Can this bouncing, dancing, grinning, singalonga rabble-rouser ("Aright! There are a lot of voices out there! Lemme hear ’em!") with the familiar doleful eyes and floppy hair really be David Kitt?! His spell spent songwriting in Nashville has brought more than a few countrified cowlicks to his new songs (lovely, friendly, pretty things, incidentally): it has also, apparently, Taught Him How To Rock. With a muscular and confident new band (including, for tonight, a marvellous, but criminally underused, Dave Odlum) and totally backing-track and beatbox-free, sweet oldies that used to be paeans to intimate, solitary happiness – take ‘Headphones’, for example – are kicked into stadium-sized anthemic barnstormers, and the crowd goes wild. It’s not subtle, but it does allow him, among other things, to cover ‘I Wanna Be Sedated’ and (if such a thing is possible) almost out-Ramone the Ramones. Janey. Whatever next?