This is the fourth time I’ve seen Lewis play live since stumbling across him at the End of the Road Festival in 2007. The guy exudes likeability with a protestant work ethic and trademark heartfelt banter between songs.
Today’s show sees a return to old stomping ground The Windmill – that dank, dingy but much beloved hut somewhere between Brixton and Streatham – for a bank holiday afternoon show with brother Jack.
What doesn’t work for me today are his self-proclaimed ‘documentaries’ – simple songs with comic book illustrations that focus on key moments in history and popular culture (if you haven’t seen them, YouTube’s a good place to start). While I’ve loved these diversions during Lewis’ solo shows, they interrupt the cohesiveness and energy of a more rawkus, plugged-in set. When Lewis stands atop a beer crate and waxes on the the fall of Rome, we stand still when it would be more fun to have our skin blasted off, y’know?