★★★★

FOR those familiar with the music but not the man, Ryley Walker’s gig might have come as a shock. Throughout the night it was almost impossible to reconcile the nuanced, jazz-infused folk music with the hilarious rough-andready persona Walker presented.

Appearing as a kind of embittered goofball, his opening gambit to the audience consisted of yelped expletives directed towards Donald Trump.

Sprawling improvised jams were the order of the night, incorporating Walker’s more conventional song structures within. The opening power couple of The Halfwit In Me and Primrose Green provided some transcendent moments that were rapturously devoured by the audience.

While the leading man’s frat-boy-folk perplexed at first, it began to make sense as the evening progressed. Walker came across as an artist who was trying to forgo pretence and challenge stereotypical notions about folk musicians. “I play acoustic guitar and I’m emotional.” Walker cringed to the crowd at one point, sending up singersongwriter starlets everywhere.

Musically high-minded but socially lowbrow, the gig’s inherent contradictions made for a hugely interesting and entertaining evening.

Charles Cook