Comedy review: Rob Deering, Glasgow

ANYONE attending The Stand with a vague allergy to musical comedy might well have felt they had stumbled into purgatory on Thursday night. But the top two acts on the evening’s bill, Loretta Maine and Rob Deering, proved that this comedic sub-genre is a broad and hearty beast.

Rob Deering. Picture: Sandy Young

Rob Deering

The Stand, Glasgow

* * *

A 15-minute interval was certainly welcomed by an exhausted crowd, put through the wringer by some US post-grunge ire and angst from Maine (played by the not actually American Pippa Evans) and chances are Deering would also have appreciated not following immediately after this self-dubbed White Wine Witch.

Half-joking that he should be more famous than he is right now, the affable Deering threw some rubbery faces at us before getting into the meat of his “compilation tape” act.

As slickly professional as they come, he used all the pedals and switches at his disposal to create a highly impressive one-man soundscape powered mainly by energy and excellent guitar skills. His irritatingly catchy Coffee Song provided a thread which he kept pulling out through his half-hour, and he subverted some Beatles and Aretha classics to offer his own lyrical punchlines.

Just when you thought his act was being stage-managed to within an inch of its life, he took an audience suggestion to swiftly conjure up a Proclaimers/Guns ‘N’ Roses mash-up (let’s give him the benefit of the doubt that this was not provided by a plant in the audience).

He finished off with a racy moment which will linger long in the memory, certainly for those in the front row.