By GRAHAM REID
ST JAMES THEATRE - One of the best things about comedians who adopt a stage persona is that you get two for the price of one: the character and the creative mind behind it.
Regrettably, on Wednesday when former Tennessee prisoner and singer-raconteur Otis Lee Crenshaw (aka comedian Rich
Hall) appeared we got something less than one.
Hampered by appalling sound, his deliberately mumbled stories and jaded observations on life - plus his terrific songs, part-Tom Waits, part-Johnny Cash/early Elvis - mostly went past a small audience struggling to catch the narratives let alone the nuances.
Fighting off punctuating feedback early on, Crenshaw on keyboards (with a double bassist and guitarist) did his best - which was extremely funny when you caught it - and, to be fair, by halfway through things had improved somewhat.
But for Crenshaw you felt the damage was done. A largely silent audience for his hilarious song about stalking suggested we weren't getting it. And in a way we weren't.
That said, when Crenshaw was on a roll he was a winner. He nailed George W. Bush's myopic, ill-informed world view ("sending troops into Celine Dion"), did a tough-minded deconstruction of Jailhouse Rock ("Yeah, the warden threw a party in the county jail?"), sang a song about the not-so famous dead ones (the drummer in Toto?) and played cleverly off the audience.
A tip: if you are singled out, don't say you are a snowboarder or work for Telecom. But whatever you say you'll become part of a running gag.
Crenshaw is a wicked and wickedly funny creation, full of wry observations, a gruff free-associating word-spinner in the grumbling manner of Charles Bukowski or William Burroughs. He's a man with a dark but occasionally sentimental heart. And the songs alone are worth the admission price.
We are assured that the sound will be better, and given that, Otis Lee Crenshaw should prove to be one of the highlights of this festival.
But whoever was responsible for the sound the other night deserves life without parole.
