Ezra Furman – The Duchess, York 14/02/14

“This is one for all the lovers out there. It’s called “Blood Sucking Whore””. If tonight’s Valentine’s Day crowd wanted a soppy, romantic night out, they probably should have looked elsewhere. Instead they were treated to a glut of ferocious, raucous rock ‘n’ roll songs dripping in Ezra Furman’s trademark aching heartbreak.

The Duchess smells a bit damp. But then again, it’s a basement in York, and it’s amazing it’s not completely submerged in flood water. Adverse weather plays its part tonight; the arctic winds whipping off the North Sea, slicing through the cobbled streets outside, have stung the faces of the near sell-out crowd and the cold can probably explain the lukewarm reception for the support act; noisy post-punk rockers The So So Glows from New York. The crowd need a bit of warming up before they get into the swing of things. But as Furman takes the stage with his new sax, bass, drums and keyboard toting backing band, the Boy-Friends, and dives nose-first into the rambunctious “And Maybe God is a Train”, everyone’s instantly on side, and the gig can start proper.

Poor old Ezra. His tortured introspection hints at lost love and a damaged psyche, and tonight he has the stage attire to match. He sports a crumpled purple velvet blazer, a faded floral shirt and enthusiastic, but unconvincing facial hair; he looks like he’s just been stood up by his prom date. His vulnerable, diffident delivery is completely engrossing throughout, and even with his slight frame, he dominates the stage.

He draws on material from his earlier work with the Harpoons, but most of the set comes from 2013’s Day of the Dog; an album that explored themes of mortality, heartbreak and depression, and sound tracked a man’s philosophical befuddlement and emotional distress. In the album sleeve notes, Furman writes “Good music can glamorise your problems”. Tonight, he whips out a pair of sunglasses in a pastiche of America’s greatest master of misery, Lou Reed. Reed built a career on the glamorisation of human suffering and the re-packaging of loss and heartbreak into cool as hell Rock ‘n’ Roll songs, and tonight Furman channels aching pain in a similar way.

Taking in the set, studded with highlights “My Zero” and “Take off Your Sunglasses”, you get the sense that through all the tortured introspection Furman loves entertaining appreciative audiences like this one. To quote Woody Allen, “Life is full of misery, loneliness and suffering – and it’s over much too soon”; though his songs reflect on pained experience and feelings of unease and unhappiness, Furman has decided to channel it into these three minute gems, and have a bloody good time playing them. Ultimately, it’s his tremendous sense of fun that permeates through tonight. It rubs off on everyone, especially when he finishes the set with a manic version of the Marvelettes “Please Mr Postman”.

Trying to talk any sense with him at the merchandise table afterwards is a pointless exercise. He is visibly exhausted and dripping with sweat. He just about manages to pick up a pen to sign a few CDs before sloping off backstage, presumably for a much needed beer and a lie down.

The lovers in the audience will be glad they put their couple’s night on hold; while Ezra Furman’s songs don’t allow for a great deal of sentimentality or romance, this endearing performance left the Valentine’s Day crowd spilling out into the York night very loved-up indeed.