So it’s clear as soon as the crowds filter in from the icy streets outside that this is a very Glaswegian night with a very Glaswegian spirit – despite neither artist’s surfacing from the dear green place.
The gig, originally meant to take place in the dusty basement of Stereo, has been moved to the grand old Arches, due to a massive response and a sell-out event fitting for a man who’s really setting people’s hearts on fire lately.
It’s a Saturday night and it’s relatively quiet but there’s a buzz in the air as the cold brick walls produce some heat and the troops politely weave their way towards the front.
Stu Larsen, an enthusiastic Australian who has a story to tell and likes to tell it, kick-starts the show as his soft, lethargic voice echoes off the main arch and dangles above a hot misty floor.
Larsen gets an equally warm response as he’s dowsed in electric blues and yellow glows effortlessly engaging a silent audience with a man who rides his bike among the trees and a gypsy who likes to gets tipsy.
In between songs he confidently reminds a sing-along crowd that his inspiration comes from where he grew up and how he grew up; writing songs in a tent on a beach and seeing his younger years pass in a farmhouse in Queensland.
It would seem Mike Rosenburg chose the right support with a sense that a now excitable bunch of onlookers, clutching their pints, are already thoroughly glad they came.
After an impatient twenty minutes and another round of beer, Mike steps forward onto the stage, also alone with his guitar, no gimmicks, just a rolling ceiling and the burning pinks and yellows from lanterns above his head.
Rosenburg, who goes by the name of Passenger, seems to have taken a right of passage himself; wholly unaware and bashful of the immediate cheers he sweeps up.
The sound quality is eerily perfect; without the instant intimacy of a smaller venue it’s striking how piercing his performances are as the trains rumble above on the West Coast Main Line.
And performance is the key word here – not the flamboyant showcases of a stage performance but rather the engaging, joking, informal chat that holds the whole night together.
Rosenburg is known for his organic, peevish cracks at the things he hates – (The X factor takes a good bashing) and he makes no attempt or gesture at disguising this.
He makes you laugh though – as he directs a man in the crowd to shout ‘wanker’ if we can’t hear him, and compares The Arches to Mordor as more roars from the trains interrupt a compelling chorus.
More friendly messing about is included as everyone has a go at the whistling in the song ‘Caravan’ and imitates a trombone because he “wasn’t going to hire a guy to do the real thing for five seconds”.
“Sounds like a bunch of drunk birds” he chuckles, before genuinely remarking, “how beautiful that is” when the girls at the front join in with the harmonies.
It’s a reminder that this man has spent years busking for pennies, parked out on Buchanan Street or holed up in the Euro Hostel, and he’s not done reminding himself too.
Again, the nights all about light jibes and taking the piss, when he rattles out daily annoyances in ‘I Hate’ – like fussy eaters and folk who talk during concerts.
He’s charming and knows what to say (and how to sing it as well) but at no point does this get too arrogant for the witty folk singer.
With well-crafted but not over complicated lyrics, like Larsen, he’s also great at telling a story, from David the failed dad necking bucky outside his hotel to the girl he had to let go because he never quite had her in the first place.
There’s a whole story in one song, with catchy choruses and intimate verses, strung together by this ability to make a joke or a point without being a dick.
This deadpan honesty teamed with a raw voice and an un-plugged energy, round up the night and place Passenger firmly where he should be with rising recognition.
For a “sensitive singer song-writer with a beard” (his words) there’s a noticeable lack of cheap cliché’s and a noticeable command of the brick arches.
With the Orks of Mordor still thundering above, it is a Glaswegian night with a Glaswegian spirit with a boy from Brighton who’s a bit Glaswegian too.
Rosenberg live has all the extra things you don’t get on his album and all the extra things that will see him become infectiously hard to forget.
Words: Martha Shardalow
Photos: Neil Donaldson
