‘So who here remembers the war years?’
This was not the first clue that this concert might not be aimed at my demographic. As soon as I had entered the Holywell music rooms, I noticed the elevated age of most around me, and realised that my expectations of a cool, alternative ukulele gig would be challenged.
Really, I shouldn’t have been surprised; Andy Eastwood, the uke virtuoso the whole night was based around, is a paid-up member of the Vaudeville and variety traditions, and as such his act is a bit more ‘end-of-the-pier’ than the internet ukulele musicians I’m used to. However, despite my initial disappointment I soon got into the swing of things, helped along by Andy’s boundless and infectious enthusiasm. The amount of energy that he put into the first half was phenomenal, every song infused with the potency of a closing number and with a sideline in cheesy jokes that never fell flat, no matter how truly groansome they were. While a few of his Formby covers left me cold, his medleys of Elvis tracks and film themes (nothing later than the early 80s) really appealed to me, and certainly got a great reception from the crowd.
Of course, while I may have had some issues with the music genre, Eastwood’s pedigree as a musician is beyond question. Whilst at New College, he was the first music student in Oxford’s history to perform his finals recital on the ukulele, going some way to redeem the image of an instrument that many dismiss out of hand. Watching him play was a joy (as it is with any truly gifted musician), and his skill was often genuinely astonishing. A particular highlight for me was a version of the William Tell overture which came towards the end of the first half – honestly, it’s something that needs to be seen to be believed, and it’s a real shame that his set didn’t contain more adaptations in that vein. Instead, Eastwood demonstrated his versatility by performing a few songs on the guitar, and even more on the violin. While this did serve to break up the ukulele songs a bit, and Eastwood is accomplished in both of these instruments, these sections seemed to fall slightly flat. Andy’s remarkability lies in his primary instrument, and his lesser skill on the others meant that it did not justify the diversion.
The second half, unfortunately, seemed to lack a lot of the energy of the first, and there were far fewer songs that I could identify. By the time Andy and his band had started their patriotic 1940s medley, my mind had begun to wander. Overall, while I had a good time, I was slightly disappointed. But that’s really not fair on Eastwood; his technique was flawless, and while I may not have been his target audience I still found plenty to appreciate. Fundamentally, my flawed expectations are to blame for my reaction, with most of the audience seeming to have a fantastic time. In any case, I have a lot of respect for someone who wears their passions on their sleeve, someone who’ll stand up to play in front of a crowd no matter how silly their instrument is seen as. To steal one of Eastwood’s puns – it takes some pluck.
