My Darling Clementine – Kitchen Garden Café, B’ham: Live Review

Seuras Og

1 year ago

My Daring Clementine – Kitchen Garden, Birmingham – 8th December 2024

Michael Weston King and Lou Dalgleish surmount the insurmountable.

To say that King and Dalgleish, husband and wife as well as professional partners, have had a difficult year would be putting it mildly. The day before Michael’s eldest daughter was due to be wed, a killer ran amok in Southport, with one of those three little girls being his son’s youngest daughter, Bebe. To lose a grandchild is unthinkable enough, but in the glare of such publicity, it is scarcely surprising he pondered the worth of continuing the day job. But he did, they did, as a team, and, if still clearly dazed, gave now perhaps the show of their life.

The show was in two halves, a dip into the MDC back catalogue, the deep cuts over the “hits”, as was wryly announced, for the first, with selected covers, together with some new , promised for the second. Understandably, they were unable to promise much in the way or either jolly or festive fare; the canon within which they plough is hardly the stuff of tidings and joy anyway, given the themes that ripple waywardly through country music. A full house of largely converts to their cause could accept and understand that. This pre-Christmas show is an annual tradition at this venue, the city where they met and first came together; although King was raised too in Southport, he was actually born in Derbyshire, not so far up the road, and Dalgleish is herself a Brummie.

Despite the forecast of gloom, it was actually as close a romantic upbeat song as they do, Since I Fell, used to open the set. About falling for, rather than off, it is a classic construction of swapped verses, each describing the effect each have had on one another, using, as is King’s wont, a heap of Western images and nearly song titles to set the scene: “From the dark end of the road to the bright side of the street” being one particularly smile inducing couplet. One thing instantly apparent is the greater strength each seemed have in their voices. King has always had a strong and smooth baritone, but the occasional wobble of Dalgleish seems now entirely behind her. Similarly, she now does a whole lot more than just sing, now playing as much piano as her husband plays guitar, if still proving, when required, a dab hand on tambourine and handbag.

Self deprecation and of each other has long been part of their schtick, in keeping with the historically warring couples they take their influences from: Dolly and Waggoner, George and Tammy, their between song patter full of gently snarky jibes, if delivered with knowing smiles. And it was from behind the piano that the delivery of the next couple of songs came, once Dalgleish had put her husband right about exactly which song would come when. Through King Of The Carnival and Two Lane Texaco they continued, the latter with more of the wordplay that adds such lustre to their songwriting, “there’s peace in the valley because there’s no-one around“.

The poignant The Other Half, if with an obvious denouement, had the audience fully engaged, waiting for the reveal, duly delivered, and it prove a first half highlight, as was Eugene, a Dalgleish song sung near solo, and the second song from their last studio release of original material, back in 2017. (Worry not, one is in the pipeline for 2025!)

The first half closed with a cover, and one chosen as much for the season as it’s unfaltering topicality, it being Alan Hull’s Winter Song. From the late Lindisfarne singer’s solo release, Pipedream, it is a bittersweet diatribe at those who fail to see the bigger picture within snowy scenes and streets. Perfect timing and pristine compliments, if not complements as well, for the season, even with the “jazz chord” Jingle Bells finale.

An interval allowed refreshments from the always excellent choice at the adjacent Fletchers Bar, an integral part the Kitchen Garden experience. King was off to take his vintage retro fireman’s coat off, it proving less than sensible wear for performing directly in front a chunky radiator, and Dalgleish to have a lie down in a dark room, “should anyone be interested in the same,” she offered. (“No-one came” her quip, on return.)

Country Darkness, the triad of Costello cover EPs the duo put out with Steve Nieve, was always going to figure large, and so it did, the second half opening with two, then three Costello songs from that set. The absence of Nieve was immaterial, as Dalgleish showed herself more than up to the job. I Felt The Chill Before Winter Came seemed most apposite, not least as we knew what was coming later in the set, but, for all three the interplay between the two singers, and each of their deliveries, were perfect.

“Elvis has left the building,” quoth Dalgleish at this stage, before bigging up, needlessly, her husband’s solo release of two years back, The Struggle, most already familiar with quite what a quality product it was and remains. Wryly introducing The Hardest Thing, the lyric around hauling yourself out of despair, he commented on how little had he appreciated where this year would take him. His voice oozed the reality of every sentiment, ahead of a reflection on where how what the rest of us have now to face, with his prophetic Weight Of The World, written as Trump was elected first time around, the irony of the words not lost as he makes his return.

The time of the show had come to now formally address the horror blighting the wider King family, in commemoration of his murdered grandchild. Oddly, this was neither bleak and was anything other than mawkish, most able to eke some appreciative there but for the grace from the humble eulogy, by way of song, given. It was a song by Adrienne Lenker, Sadness As A Gift, that was used to both introduce and give context, the words having struck a chord with King, even ahead hearing the melody. Beautiful in both, it was little surprise that Dalgleish was unable to face the audience, her lips tembling throughout her husband’s stark transmission: “We could see the sadness as a gift and still feel too heavy to hold.”

Two new songs followed, one, I think, from each of the pair, and both in Bebe’s memory, The Empty Swing and Sally Sparkle. Dalgleish took the first, and apologised, in advance, lest she fragment, yet held it altogether, if with a mix of tears and stoic determination. A gallingly beautiful song, it was for King to then offer the slightly more hopeful second song, (Both of these songs are available, as downloads, from their website or from bandcamp.)

Earlier on in this deeply personal show, King had explained a little around their partnership, and how they had moved on from being separate songwriters and performers, to trialling the “one-off” country duets collaboration, in 2011, sparking off the enduring project, With MDC they have tended to write together, but, more recently, they have restarted writing independently of each other, to bear fruit within the new MDC album, next year. I am uncertain if the final number, Mabel, will be on it, and, uncertain if it is a joint or individual composition, but it made for a shamelessly sentimental final song, sentimental with a positive P, to try and balance the sorrows outlined before. Mabel, I should add, is the couple’s daughter, she their miracle, and now a performing musician in her own right.

Encores are impractical at the Kitchen Garden Cafe, but we knew there was a final song to come, having been both forewarned and also instructed to give a special cheer after Mabel and before it. Of course, we all did as told, and would have anyway, before they finished with The Embers And The Flames, a song so good they have recorded it twice. The words made for a fitting end to the evening, putting hope and faith in love beyond bitterness, revenge and retribution. The words are worth repeating:

“Rings of fire, they don’t burn forever, darling
A love that lasts can’t always stay the same
Love’s holding on and keeping it together
The embers are as precious as the flame.”