Roddy Frame

Kelvingrove Bandstand, Glasgow

GRAEME THOMSON

****

“DO not google ‘persistent cough’,” Roddy Frame advises, revealing a bout of scratchy health leading up to his first Scottish date in three years. If he hadn’t have told us we’d never have known. Armed with only an acoustic guitar and harmonica, Frame was in fine fettle for a warm-hearted homecoming show which blended flawless musicianship with a touch of stand-up comedy. By the end, he was fielding requests, product placements and birthday shout-outs like “an indie Tiger Tim”.

Pound for pound, there’s a case to be made for Frame being Scotland’s greatest songwriter of the post punk era. The torrent may be more of a trickle these days, with only three albums in 20 years, but the well runs deep. Though his stage manner retains something of the cocky chutzpah of youth, his best songs are deeply-lived despatches from the edge of the night, love rarely travelling in a straight line. Highlights on Saturday included Small World and Over You, choice cuts from his spare masterpiece, Surf, and a rollicking Spanish Horses, featuring jaw-dropping flamenco guitar. Stray was poised and sadly soulful; Reason For Living crunchingly anthemic.

There was, sadly, nothing from Frame’s most recent album, Seven Dials, although he did unveil one new song, the Dylan-esque Twilight. Instead, the emphasis was on former glories, particularly a run of classics from Aztec Camera’s 1983 debut High Land, Hard Rain. It’s rare for a single twangy guitar note to precipitate a standing ovation, but Oblivious delivered, while the closing Killermont Street, Frame’s hymn of exile, came with a verse of Wild Mountain Thyme. All this, and a busk through Chicago’s If You Leave Me Now. It was that kind of night. A fitting finale to a fine fortnight of Summer Nights in the West End.