Now something of a regular haunt for us, the County Down seaside town of Bangor rarely disappoints in terms of entertainment levels or range of venues – especially during August when shows are curated by the good folk at Open House Festival. This weekend we took the train to the coast as the circus was in town. Curtis Eller’s American Circus that is.
Eller is a tough man to pin down – difficult to age and defiantly straddling musical genres and bygone eras. In some ways, the Civil Defence Services Club is the ideal venue. A low ceilinged room, tucked away on a Bangor back street away from the hustle and bustle of the seafront, the pool table pushed aside, the fruit machine silenced for the night. For one evening it’s been taken over by music lovers of all shapes and sizes and yet retains that old working-man’s club charm and at atmosphere that conjures images of hearty singalongs and cheap beers.
I’ve cursed myself in past reviews for over-use of the imagery of the reviewer propping up the bar whilst the band “take the stage”. Little fear of that in the club. Hunkered down next to the pool table is where I am as Curtis Eller appears alone, sporting the type of moustache every children’s book circus performer ever had. Tugging up his baggy trousers he perched precariously atop a chair, singing of ‘Taking Up Serpents Again’ before encouraging the amassed audience to ‘coo’ along to an ode to the pigeon racer.
The band arrive three songs in like a ragtag ensemble, an American Circus of English men and women for this leg of the tour. There’s plenty of foot tapping and singing along around the club as the Circus romp through ‘Old Time Religion’, ‘Butcherman’ and ‘1929’ from the latest record.
“This one’s in the key of D if you feel like dancing.” becomes the running one-liner of the night as Eller becomes more than a country singer. He’s a limber performer, swinging legs over banjo necks, twirling like a dervish around by the bar, whoopin’ and a-hollering his way from the Great Depression to the slick disco beats of David Byrne’s New York City. Curtis Eller, storyteller, rockstar and ringmaster is in full control.
The storyteller persona steps up to the fore with tales from yore, notably a tale of legendary boxer Joe Louis, woven into tales of tragedy in North Carolina’s gas chambers. It’s a tale lifted from the archival stories of Martin Luther King Jr, a reminder that as crowds battle on the streets of Ferguson today, the struggle has existed for much longer. Some songs can strike you like a punch in the gut such is the power and emotion behind them. Tonight ‘Save Me Joe Louis’ is delivered with a heart wrenching old-country sound and hits like a heavyweight uppercut. The last chorus has everyone on their feet belting out the refrain to their own personal Joe Louis’ wherever they may be.
Curtis Eller’s song are steeped in history, performed with the passion of a true believer, delivered with a wholly believable authenticity and a little dose of dry American wit. Ballads of air exploration with Amelia Earhart weave seamlessly into rock and roll romps concerning the consumption of Cocaine in the afterlife. The Bangor crowd just can’t contain themselves and by the time we roll through the better known tracks like Sugar In My Coffin’ a little dance-floor has taken hold. Shapes thrown on-stage and off, Eller spending more time off than on, high energy moves, high kicks and a heightened temperature. The night’s brought to a close so we can all draw breath.
Once again Eller poetically guides us through a 20s tale. ‘Black Diamond’ was a poorly treated old elephant from deep down in Texas. Animals aren’t supposed to be treated that way and one day the old girl had had enough and ran amok. The townsfolk were up in arms and fifty bullets were fired into the elephant’s thick skull. In 1929 she was probably the “Cecil the Lion” of her time. It’s another reminder that those old stories still ring true and though the clothing and hairstyles may change, deep down human beings really don’t. The point of ‘Black Diamond’? Well everyone remembers that elephant’s name but the low-life little gun toter’s name has been lost to history. Some times the good guys win.
Tonight’s been one of those nights. Drenched in sweat, beaming smiles all round, there’s one last singalong to ‘Busby Berkeley Funeral’ before the band take their tales of Hollywood through another Holywood and back on the roads across Europe to educate and entertain in some other low-ceilinged little backstreet Big Top.