I saw Jeffrey Lewis and his band last night the Scala Club in London, a chap I have wanted to see for quite some time. Only a few days before a friend had given me one of Jeffrey Lewis’s comic books. He had swapped it with the man himself at Bestival for a Lonely Planet picture book (which my friend had won). Good deal. The gig was top notch. He is great with the crowd – makes you feel at home. He played a varied set of folk songs, some heavier punk songs, and some of his poetry-spoken word stuff accompanied with picture books - or low budget videos as he calls them. One of these picture books included part three of his history of communism. Cracking stuff! He is a unique, lyrical genius and musician and will no doubt have a cult following for many years to come. He is also underappreciated. I will never understand why there are so many dull generic pop bands around and on the radio playing the same driving 4/4 rhythms and rounds of soulless lyrics examining the tragedy and greatness of love.

Talking of love, or perhaps a lack of it, JL played the wonderfully tragic song ‘East River’ where he eventually throws himself into the East river to decompose into ‘putrid rotten scum’ after not finding any girls in the city that take a fancy to him. Towards the end of the gig, he rolled out some of the more faster, raw, punk-like songs. This was with the band which included his brother and his brother’s girlfriend. I had forgotten about this side of Jeffery Lewis, but I like it. It had been a while since I had listened to this kind of thing, but the energy and intensity was good. Although I still prefer the acoustic stuff. Getting old you see. For the encore he did a couple of his spoken word acapellas. A good way too polish off the night. One was on the subject of his love of the English pound and the other about a cheap American noodle snack that he is quite fond of. And with that he toddled off, leaving me amused, happy and cheerfully content.