Review: Adam Green

“Anyone heard of this drug called M-Cat?”, shouts Adam Green, non-conformist, musician, and general weird guy by way of an introduction to the Cambridge Junction. Last week’s gig marked the British stint of his recent metamorphosis; from the self titled “Jewish James Dean” of that New York music scene to a crass, chubby, guy with a bad haircut. Despite the occasion, his huge German following seem not to have made it to the sparsely populated crowd. But wearing a leather jacket two sizes too small, hobo-esque flares and with some mid-drift on show, he is undoubtedly still the king of kitsch. 

Despite a worryingly glazed look in his eyes, Green’s performance was surprisingly funny and lucid, charming even. In fact, unlike many of his contemporaries, he really doesn’t appear to be trying too hard.  The gig veered seamlessly between stand-up comedy and musical extravaganza with links provided by his own crass wit, “I’ve seen Avatar 3D and I think it makes the smurfs look like shit…wait, this is supposed to be a concert” he laughed, before launching off on a tangent “Who’s seen Antichrist?”… “Yeah. I got a blowjob during that movie”. Hilarious. One girl even offered him her services, “It’s a deal” he nodded. But not before checking her out.

His crude, crowd pleasing banter is true to his musical repertoire; with songs titles like ‘Choke on a cock’, some critics have dismissed his work as adolescent and vulgar. However his performance leant the Junction a rare air of warmth and intimacy. Running around stage in the midst of childlike exhibitionism, Adam Green danced like a five year old Ian Curtis on Christmas day, peppering his routine with ridiculous poses and riding his mic stand like a horse.

Questions about his levels of drug use aside, and despite numerous botched advances towards women in the crowd, there was a sensitivity to Green’s performance that is often overlooked in his music. Beyond the drug addled lyrics lies a number of gentle, almost depressing melodies inspired by hazy memories of Las Vegas schmaltz and complemented by Glen’s Scott walker vocals. These rare moments reveal themselves in the acoustic songs such as “Give them a Token”. It almost gets to you. That is, until he changes the lyrics from “when your trips only five metres long” to “when your dicks only five inches long”. Did I say he was crude?