The Bombay Royale @ The Hi-Fi
Multicultural rock with hints of the visual buffoonery of Madness videos and the Village People with a splash of Kid Creole and The Coconuts in the mix. An album launch to a full house is always a handsome start to dreams of a better, higher reality. Although with band numbers clocking over the dozen and suddenly the profit share becomes micro and not macro economy of scale.
Nevertheless, the audience lapped up the Hindi and Bengali, language tunes presented by The Mysterious Lady and The Tiger with relish. The Skipper or Andy Williamson of Labjacd fame steered a tight course swapping from MC duties to occasional saxophone as the need required. The rest of the jazzed up and funked up band had their separate identity such as The Bandit Priest, The Jewel Thief, The Railway Mogul and so forth. All a little too typecast and and you get the feeling it was like going to a theatre restaurant without the dodgy food.
So when they swung into You Me Bullets Love, the only song sung in English, or some traditional Bobbywood or Jaan Pehechen Ho it was all met with a tremendous response. Not that the audience was the critical type to dissect what is a seemingly novel idea, but, as we all know, the novelty hour has a limited time frame and the clock is ticking. But who knows, maybe a Rolling Stones type eons long career is not the vision for The Bombay Royale anyway.
Certainly they are well drilled and rehearsed, and for a time, rather captivating. But it all comes down to what the listener wishes to achieve from the experience. If it is the funny moves and the glitz and colour of costumes are your style, then come on board. But if seek something more emotionally charged then wait for the next boat. And at the end of this Saturday night one could not help feeling like a stranded tourist and yearning for We Are Augustines.
BY BRONIUS ZUMERIS
LOVED: Feeling the enjoyment of the never-ending party on the quayside knowing that l could not afford a ticket on the Titanic.
HATED: Crazed commuters on public transport. Racism and spitting has no place in this town.
DRANK: Krupnikas. The elixir of the gods.