Thomas Truax,
Emma Rugg and Cracktown at Hull Adelphi, Sun 4th April 04
“It’s got a certain kind of magic” is how New York
City’s Thomas Truax described this town when asked by Hull
Daily Mail, apparently sending his interviewer into a laughing fit.
His glimpse of a rainbow over the Humber Bridge isn’t the only
thing worth seeing here.
Cracktown are two guys who take the piss, in an eloquent way. Featuring King Rat on acoustic guitar and the Silver Fox “on bitterness” – or, on long bursts of mouth-organ and hair, a cross between Scrooge and Bob Dylan – they sing of (not) holding open-minded ideals (“love me, I’m a liberal”), (not) making it in the music business, (in) famous world leaders and the (un) great state of our country in general. Certainly cynical and at times repetitive in their country-blues, they’ll always save themselves with a line you won’t have caught before, and you can catch them at any worthwhile acoustic evening in their own (un?!)fair city. Watch out for their album ‘Songs in the Key of Fuck Off’!
If at first her presence seems strange between two acts more known for eccentricity, local songwriter Emma Rugg soon wins over the whole audience. Running through a set of tracks from last year’s ‘Isolated Impression’ self-release and new single ‘Oceans / Prelude to the End’, the songs are understated but impressive enough to warrant confidence in front of any crowd. In the best contrast I once saw her play between punk bands, and she’s also appeared on Fame Academy. Apparently she was turned down for being too famous off her own back already. She’s got a traditional appeal, nothing wrong with that, and whether her accapella set-closer was planned or not it doesn’t matter: it was a song to make your hair stand on end and to say “whoosh” as everything else stops.
Thomas Truax begins in near darkness with his most unmusical moment, playing the "hornicator" - an instrument that incorporates parts of a gramophone, a violin, a recording device and even a kazoo. He does look odd while he plays it, with his thick black fringe flopping over wild eyes. Half crooning, half yodelling, wholly individual, he’s a cartoon character yet to be invented, a mad scientist in the way he moves and sings and creates his own instruments. “Sister Spinster” is his drum machine made out of a wheel. Oh, and he plays guitar too, but he admits he didn’t make that himself. He did make up his own alternate life story, though, about breaking out of his home in ‘Wowtown’ and fending for himself. Here he relies on traditional comic timing as much as on quirky words or music. “Nothing’s fresh as milk drunk straight from the udder.” And throughout his unusual songs – also taking in the Internet and how it keeps people alive, his love the Fish and fake hypnosis - he plays with great drama. He gives an aspect of theatre to his performance by looking out for imaginary crickets, when all you can really hear in the silence he leaves is the friendly chirp of the till at the bar.
Much like the sight he saw this afternoon, this is certainly a strange mixture; but it is kind of spellbinding.
