WILL YOUNG is such a nice boy. He’s that rare thing: a genuinely funny, bright musician steeped in wry self-awareness.
Clyde Auditorium, Glasgow
No wonder he shares such a close bond with his audience. In an unforeseen detour during tonight’s performance, he even managed to flog merchandise from the stage in a self-mocking way.
It’s just unfortunate that this potentially great pop star, with his charming personality and pleasant cod-soul croon, has, with the honourable exception of semi-classic Leave Right Now, been ill-served by bland material throughout his 14 year career.
His music falls into two categories: dull MOR ballads with a hint of earnest maturity, and polite sophisto-disco funkers such as Your Game. There’s also the matter of his karaoke cover of Jose Feliciano’s cover of The Doors’ Light My Fire. He sells this unexciting fare to the best of his professional abilities, dancing around the stage in a billowing flared one-piece while taking selfies and receiving presents from fans (tonight’s choice gift was a framed photograph of some dogs).
Much like the man himself, his current show is endearingly naff. Pop on a budget, it’s major selling points include a small wind machine blowing streamers and confetti at him, and two stage-hands dressed in white hoods and overalls, like the sperm from Woody Allen’s Everything You Wanted to Know About Sex But Were Afraid to Ask.
Prediction: one day Young will be a national treasure. But it won’t be for his music.