Bobby Conn and The Glass Gypsies

When asked to comment on Homelands – his band’s fourth album – Bobby Conn replied, “A politically orientated, glam-rock record – those are two things that don’t want to meet.” But they do spectacularly in Bobby Conn’s exaggerated world; a world where disco balls hang from saucepan racks and past events include abandoning a philosophy degree to undertake a long-term study of LSD. It has been suggested that Bobby Conn is a fictitious glam-rocker; this theory becomes more bulbous when you consider a supporting cast that includes Tortoise and Monica BouBou.

Bobby Conn and the Glass Gypsies temporarily install their world in a medium-sized room in Nottingham. In this extravagant, theatrical sphere the band takes to the stage displaying Trevor & Simon tank tops, lashings of liner and a dazzling array of rocks-off hand-me-downs from the summers on Venice Beach. Announcing their arrival with a four-part intro soaked in Smile, our gloriously distorted hosts-for-the-night launch into We Come In Peace.

The band’s satire is west coast fried, mixing picture-book social commentary and a fluent wit with rainbow-soaked verve. Bobby Conn uses every inch of his space to lead an opera that fills tonight’s stately pleasure dome. These technically fluid gypsies take us on a journey that includes ELO-shaped UFOs, bubbling pools of funk, a country do-wop solo-spot from the drummer and tales of sitting on the beach with the kids, tucking into freshly-roasted dolphin. As Phil Collins would say, but seriously, no jacket required. Loosen the cranial-collar and seek out Bobby Conn and the Glass Gypsies.


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