48. John Grant
Roundhouse
9 March 2014
If you’ve been following this diary, you’ll remember my first encounter with John Grant took place in the glamour-soaked vortex of a record shop, specifically wedged between a rack of discounted jazz reissues and a novelty stylophone display, huddled in the flickering fluorescents of retail despair, ready to bask in the sacred baritone of the high priest of heartbreak.
Despite a makeshift backdrop, John turned Rough Trade East into a temple of melancholic transcendence. When he performed “Glacier”, it was so devastatingly, icily so achingly sad, it made Joy Division sound like CBeebies entertainers.
Fast-forward to tonight and we’re no longer clutching posters in a shop aisle; John has graduated to a full venue. Bigger stage, state-of-the-art sound, and enough spotlights to give the front row a tan. But even with the expanded trappings, the setup remains stripped-back.
It’s just him, a keyboard, and the kind of intimate atmosphere that makes you feel like you’ve accidentally wandered into someone’s therapy session. In a way, we have. When “Vietnam” and “Glacier” roll out, the audience collectively holds its breath.
Every note feels like it’s been hand-chiselled from diamond, then launched directly at your emotional soft bits. It’s crystalline. It’s brutal. It’s like being lovingly punched in the soul by someone who’s read your diary and has a score to settle.
Just when we’re all curled up in our metaphorical foetal positions, wrung out and spiritually leaking, he does it. The man has the audacity to segue into “Angel Eyes”, the ABBA cover from his Czars days, and not only pulls it off, but transforms it into something so unexpectedly majestic.
That’s the magic trick with John Grant: the ability to pivot from glacial sorrow to ironic disco euphoria without so much as blinking. One minute, you’re staring into the emotional abyss, the next, you’re singing along to a reimagined ABBA anthem with the conviction of someone who knows he is the greatest motherfucker you’re ever gonna meet. Tonight, he proved it, again.