Newton Faulkner, armed with a guitar and a flask of tea, saunters on stage, chatting to the audience as he sets up. He has a peculiar brand of limp British humour, establishing himself as ‘your friend’s boyfriend with ginger dreads’. He determinedly acts out this tea supping and mild persona with a touch too much practice for it to be spontaneous. He then asks for suggestions from the audience as to which songs he should cover, shrugging off all requests until he hears the one we presume he wanted to begin with. When the crowd bay for the ‘Spongebob Squarepants’ theme, which Faulkner used to perform in jest when enduring the festival circuits, he doesn’t for a moment bow to the pressure. The ‘jam’ aspect of the concert is bizarre. He plays part-way through a song. then stops to comment on a lyric, or ask the audience to vote on which musical ending they prefer. ‘This?’ he asks, before his fingers whiz up and down the guitar with a skill that absolutely astounds. And that’s the thing about Newton Faulkner – his talent does absolutely astound. The crowd, packed to the gunnels, stood rapt. He uses the audience as a human backing track, asking us to sing on loop, layering us behind his masterful guitar plucking, the instrument an extension of his arms, as he tapped and played every part of it forming his very own rhythm section. In less capable hands, his style of experimentation with loop pedals and voice synthesisers would have hindered a performance. Instead, he comes alive when playing these songs as his hands move greedily down the frets. And then? His style shifted once again as he played Bohemian Rhapsody and we were transported to the set of Britain’s Got Talent. I only wish I had heard more of this passionate, talented musician’s songs rather than his apologies for them.
