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Bonington Theatre, Arnold, Nottingham May 30th 2003 www.netrhythms.co.uk				david hughes live review
...Musically, there are many... acquired tastes. Some might say, for instance, that Richard Thompson is one. Certainly, it takes a while to get behind the vocal but once you've made the effort, there are rewards aplenty. As it is with David Hughes. I personally believe that there is no god because, if there was, then Hughes would be a megastar. I must admit that I'm no music connoisseur but I do feel that his work is truly unique. Hughes has a way of playing the music on his guitar and tapping out the percussive rhythm, both at the same time - and I'm not referring to a foot stamping away on the ground here (although, to be fair, it does - and keeps far better time than a metronome!). It's a complex style for sure. One of Hughes' partners in crime commented recently that he'd tried to learn part of the repertoire and gave up when faced with the sheer enormity of the task. - and this from one who is no mean slouch across the fretboard himself. Personally mate, I'd stick to the kazoo, it's safer. David Hughes doesn't get out much to play, which is a shame, which makes those rare events such as his appearance in Nottingham a treasure to behold. What draws the audience in is his insightfulness into life; like many a singer-songwriter, his material is drawn from direct observance of life. What is unique is the way that Hughes delivers his opinion, his verdict if you prefer. He's cutting, scathing and hilarious. He plays himself down, and relates to the audience directly. You ever have a car fail it's MOT? Hughes has, it was a blue car. But that's OK, coz he's got a red car now. You wonder where in heck he's going with the song, then the killer line is delivered and boy, is it a gut-buster. His material is, however, nicely varied. He covers social issues, such as the previously mentioned transport, he can relate to death (he's a folk singer, for crissakes!), and let's not forget romance with it's tales of unrequited love by the fag machine; fear not however, this lad sure can tango. Each song tells a story that you know is real, and could easily have been taken from your own life. And all of a sudden, the evening has come to an end. He's done the crowd pleasers, he's delivered the anecdotes and he's chucked in a few tasters from the next CD. For me, it took over two hours to get there and much the same to get back, and the trip was worth every moment, every mile. I wish there was a god to believe in because this man truly deserves the recognition. Dennis Bird