Were the Patrick Fugit/Cameron Crowe character in “Almost Famous” the rock star not the journo, he would have been a lot like Ben Kweller. Perpetually baby-faced, Kweller’s shaggy bowl mop and sleeveless tee mark him out as unafraid to celebrate that unhippest of ’70s looks: the garage metal god. “Lawdaaaaaaaaaan!” he hoots as he swaggers onstage, not with arrogance so much as a desire to live the dreams of every teenage Plant wannabe on the planet.
Musically, of course, it’s a different proposition. Mentored by Evan Dando at an early age and a recent tour mate of Bens Lee and Folds, the prodigious Kweller is stuck halfway between the ’70s and the ’90s. (And no, that doesn’t mean the ’80s.) With an unashamed love of blues wig-outs and piano rock he’s equally besotted with the more melodic aspects of grunge, creating some kind of retro-fitted, heavy pop.
As an eight-year-old, Kweller entered a Billboard songwriting competition and got an honourable mention; as a 22-year-old, it remains his strongest suit. By comparison to his contemporaries, Kweller is simply streets ahead, like the young Bernie Taupin and Elton John rolled into one, crafting songs that will sound just as affecting and fresh in decades to come. The packaging might be Texas circa “Houses Of The Holy” but the sound and skill are utterly timeless.
Take the title track of his recent second album “On My Way”, written on a flight from Japan back to the US. Delivered acoustic and solo tonight, it combines an adolescent sense of wonder with a heavy heart: “I want to kill this man but he turned around and ran/I’ll kill him with karate that I learned in Japan/He wouldn’t see my face/I wouldn’t leave a trace/I wouldn’t use a bullet because a bullet’s a disgrace.”
The solo interlude aside – during which he goes from the sublime “On My Way” to his ridiculous deconstructed “Ice Ice Baby” party piece – this is a kinetic rock show par excellence. Drum risers and speaker stacks are clambered upon, guitars are wielded above heads, (thankfully brief) blues jams are in evidence and every note is belted out with little concern for faltering vocal cords. For as teeny a venue as the Islington Academy, it’s utterly spellbinding.
In an alternative universe, Kweller is surely lauded like BMG label mate Alicia Keys for his remarkable talents, stellar song writing and musical proficiency. In this world, his following is smaller but significantly more rabid per capita. It’s tempting to suggest that with a stylist and a decent haircut he’d be a superstar too, but then there’s something equally appealing about his remaining a hidden treasure, enjoyed by a select and devout few. Perhaps almost famous is indeed the best way to be.
