Big Bertha Records has discovered a new humiliating music-industry staple: the in-store performance and signing. Following the recent launch of Pete Molinari's debut single A Virtual Landslide, both label and artist have been feeling pretty chipper. Molinari's showcase gig was a sell-out and the single has been getting nice reviews and radio spots. Promoters have been calling up and asking if this young folk-blues Elvis figure is up for doing more shows, and early reports from the distributors suggest that while we're not exactly looking at a hit, the single will set both Big Bertha and Pete onto a good start. Then came the signing.
Intoxica! Records on Portobello Road, West London, seemed like the perfect place. It's the best shop in London for old-fashioned vinyl, and it specialises in the kind of styles that Molinari touches on: rock'n'roll, soul, blues, folk and R&B. Intoxica's owner Nick Brown is a music enthusiast with good taste -- the inside of his intimate shop looks like a Hawaiian Tiki bar -- and he suggested that Molinari do a Sunday afternoon spot after first hearing a promo of the single a few months earlier. With the record just out, the gig would be a fun addition to Pete's schedule.
Unfortunately, Sunday April 7 turned out to be one of the hottest spring days on record. The capital's population might have wanted to spend that blistering afternoon having a barbecue, lounging around in a park or sitting in a beer garden, but they certainly didn't fancy hanging out in a sweaty record shop. Molinari and I, accompanied by my wife and two small children, arrived at Intoxica at 1pm to be greeted by the deafening buzz of road works. Even Pete's booming falsetto couldn't compete with that racket, Nick Brown told us; better to come back at 5pm when the diggers and bulldozers would be going home.
Five o'clock came, but an audience did not -- literally, no audience whatsoever. It was just Nick Brown and us. "It's a bit of a Spinal Tap moment, isn't it?" said Brown, recalling the scene where promotions man Artie Fufkin implores the heavy-metal band to "kick my ass" after nobody turns up to their record store signing. "I don't care," said Molinari, ever the professional, "I'll play in front of you and the kids."
And he did. Standing behind Intoxica's counter, he belted out his songs with as much passion as if he were centre stage at Madison Square Gardens, a passion that might have been lost on the under-fives present. A few record-collector types -- men, obviously -- wandered in and flicked through the racks as if nothing were happening. Then, slowly, a crowd did build, of Italian and Japanese tourists on a day out to the famous Portobello Road, wondering whose reedy voice was blasting out of this little shop. A couple even bought the single. So, out of the jaws of total indifference, Molinari's unique talent made the Sunday afternoon signing something of an event.
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