Ok, so I have heard of the Dave Matthews Band.  I don’t know many people that haven’t – they are like one of those American omni presents that drift across the Atlantic and grace our ears every time we sit down to watch (quality) imported US dramas.  (That last statement may not be entirely accurate.  I don’t watch enough television to prove or disprove whether the Dave Matthews Band is the sole contributor to the soundtrack of shows such as The O.C.)  Anyway, tonight, here at the Hammersmith Apollo, my previous thoughts become partially irrelevant because it is just Dave Matthews, sans his much-lauded band, here to spread a little joy. Although judging by the yelps from the over enthusiastic audience, the majority of who have worked themselves into a lather before Matthews has even warmed his stage stool, I imagine it will not be long before the whole group are rounded up and shipped over. 

Sitting atop the wide-angle stage of the Apollo, Matthews cuts a lonely figure.  There is no pretence, no props (apart from a few well placed pieces of London tourist tat on the singers amp) just Matthews, a long list of songs and an even longer repertoire of homespun stories.  At this point I must admit that I’ve seen Matthews do this before – at King’s College a few months ago.  That time around I was impressed because it seemed so out of character from what I had previously heard about the Dave Matthews Band.  I had assumed that the front man was simply going to be an MOR agent who took himself and his music far too seriously.  This time I am still impressed, largely because Matthews is able to transfer his one man show so effortlessly from a smaller, more intimate venue to the weighty Apollo.  There can be no doubt, however, that he takes his music seriously – delivering every song with a rapt intensity worthy of his high-flying status in the hierarchy of American music – but it is between songs that we get a glimpse of another Dave Matthews.  He is one of those anomalies that you can’t quite make your mind up about or put your finger on.  He can hold a stage single-handedly for two hours with a heady mixture of bizarre and abstract conversation delivered in a slow southern drawl, accompanied by heart rendering ballads and upbeat sing-a-longs.  But here’s the rub - all the while I find myself looking around at the people prostrating themselves in front of him, trying to figure out exactly what they see in this man.  At one point Matthews recounts how an interview with a journalist had been awkward for him because of the journalist’s insistence on referring to him as a “rock star” – and I think I understand his point.  Matthews doesn’t possess any of the flair or bravado associated with many of his contemporaries.  He is a straight-down-the-line-Levi’s 501-nice t-shirt wearing-singer-songwriter and for him everything genuinely seems to stem from the music.  He doesn’t need props and stage personas, costumes or gimmicks.  He simply delivers inoffensive songs, many normally associated with his full band sound, which stripped back to acoustic renditions allow the sentiment to build and the vocal melodies to soar.  The connection that Matthews holds with his audience also serves to define him as a performer.  They know what they want and he is prepared to give to them – even shuffling around the order of his set in response to screams and screeches from the galleries and stalls.  Seated, as I am, amid the howls and whoops, the gesticulating and gyrating, I can’t help thinking that this would be the outcome if evangelical worship and American college sports were somehow amalgamated into a sinister hybrid.  Needless to say this doesn’t diminish the overall entertainment value – even if it does get a little creepy at times. 

Matthews concludes the evening by spinning a quick yarn involving Bob Dylan, himself and a festival.  He recounts how backstage at said festival following Dylan’s set and just as Matthews was about to take stage, Dylan asked him whether he would be playing All Along the Watch Tower, to which Matthews replied no, because Dylan was there.  Dylan’s sharp reply was simple, “well I didn’t play it because you are here!”  Matthews has the talent and the respect for his music, but for some reason I know I will never buy one of his records and probably never see the Dave Matthews Band live.  And as he finishes by rewarding the audience with Dylan’s classic I am content to sit back and take it in, safe in the knowledge that despite feeling unaffected by what Matthews has to offer I have had a good evening.

Rob Herian