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Review: Jaret Reddick/The Lounge Kittens, Thekla
It would be easy for The Lounge Kittens to simply trot out the same crowd-pleasing set drawn from their Sequins and C-Bombs album each time they come to town. But the jaunty, spangly, amusingly catty Southampton harmony covers trio prefer to put the work in, tailoring their show to the audience. So there’s little overlap between this set and the one they played at the Exchange last October. To make the most of their support slot, they jam in as much material in as possible. That means a quartet of those trademark frantic medleys, opening with the pop-punk one in honour of the headliner. A ’90s cartoon theme tune medley also envelops the millennials in a warm nostalgic glow, while leaving those of us who can’t tell our Pokemon from our Thundercats and couldn’t put a name to any of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles looking rather puzzled.
Still, they’ve worked up a cover of the Foo Fighters’ Breakout especially for the occasion and their affectionately bouncy, de-fanged version of Slipknot’s ferocious Duality remains a rib-tickling joy. Never have the lines “I push my fingers into my eyes/It’s the only thing that slowly stops the ache” sounded quite so perky.
Steel Panther’s Gloryhole (“the filthiest song we know”) is delivered complete with cut-glass diction and alarmingly lascivious gestures, and we forgive them for recycling their Download 2017 medley, which would otherwise only have been showcased at the festival, because it’s such damn good fun. Bookended by Aerosmith songs (Dude (Looks like a Lady), Love in an Elevator), this embarks on an unlikely musical journey through the Download line-up, taking in Rob Zombie (Dragula), Alestorm (Keelhauled) and, brilliantly, Sabaton’s bellicose anthem To Hell and Back (complete with whistling). Hell, there’s even a bit of Slayer’s Raining Blood, though they only sing the riff. Come on, ladies: do the whole thing next time.
is needed now More than ever
The Kittens finish up with a rapid-fire, singalong, kitchen-sink-included banger medley featuring songs by former touring partners Status Quo and REO Speedwagon, plus multiple ’80s soft rock anthems (including a belter of a bash at Heart’s Alone), and even Adam Ant and the Buzzcocks. Plenty of Queen too, their multi-tracked harmonies proving a perfect fit for the trio, for whom no ungallant bottom-oriented observations are necessary to underline their place in the rockin’ world.
With their endless dicking about and extended between-song banter, Bowling for Soup gigs have often been in danger of tipping over into comedy shows with some music. So it comes as no surprise to find frontman and chief songwriter Jaret Reddick heading out on this solo Heartache & Hilarity tour, blending extended anecdotage with acoustic versions of BFS songs, both well-known and obscure. This is not a performance for the casual fan, but the packed, diverse audience of hardcore Soupsters is eager to hear the stories behind those songs, many of which are based on real events and people.
The Bitch Song, Jaret reveals early in the proceedings, is not based on one particular person but two particular people, for plausible deniability purposes. To complicate matters further, he and guitarist Erik Chandler were dating one of them simultaneously.
One of his best yarns is about Bowling for Soup being booked onto The Tonight Show alongside special guest Val Kilmer, while promoting their The Great Burrito Extortion Case album. Mr. Kilmer was blissfully unaware of the fact that the album included a song entitled Val Kilmer, whose lyrics are not entirely flattering. But it turned out that his son was a big BFS fan… We also learn that the wonderful Ohio (Come Back to Texas) and Surf Colorado are both about the same person. But the audience won’t leave it there and cajole Jarret into revealing perhaps more than he intended.
“Did she marry Leland?”
“She did. He’s an attorney . . .”
“Boo!”
“…but now they’re divorced.”
“Hooray!”
The Phineas and Ferb theme reminds us of his dual career in animation, and things take an unexpectedly poignant turn when he talks about his battle with depression and having to fire his best friend, who later died of a drug overdose (cue: a wrenching Goodbye Friend). Sometimes there are asides that leave you wanting to know more. In passing, he mentions that his father is a Church of Christ preacher. Whoa! – back up there, fella. Tell us some stories about that next time.
He’s a natural, witty raconteur, if easily distracted into digressions on everything from porn (“There’s no way the person being fisted enjoys it,” he reasons, persuasively) to those daily reminders of the extraordinary stupidity of Donald Trump. Lyrically, he rather overdoes the movie references, but this increasingly portly, self-deprecating Texan achieves the remarkable feats of writing catchy, funny classic rock wrapped in pop-punk clothing and pulling off songs about ex-girlfriends that don’t make you want to frogmarch him behind the bike sheds to administer a corrective wedgie – an ability that eludes those legions of whiny bitch bedroom miserablist singer-songwriters.
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