The Astoria is packed to the brim and everyone is waiting. La Lewis and her Licks are late. A quick cast about for information reveals that there are a lot of people here that have not heard Juliette Lewis sing and don’t know her band at all. They’re here because she’s Hollywood, right here in a filthy old theatre almost close enough to touch. It’s a priceless draw but also means that she has a lot to prove as a musician. Many people read the newspaper article that described her earnest demeanour and pointed to her place as a member of the Church of Scientology. Not the greatest thing to list for a UK audience. Scientology, is that cool? Is that science fiction? Isn’t Tom Cruise in that cult? Is he cool?
Soon enough the band appear – they’re tight musicians and a fair backdrop to Juliette Lewis who comes skipping and dancing onto the stage. Her tiny lithe body flips and twists, scissor jumping and stamping in sliver lycra trousers and a white boy beater. The apparent freedom of her form is beguiling and as a group they work hard through the show.
There is some separation in focus as we all watch the movie star strut and shriek. But the Licks are good performers, holding their own. There are bound to be some in the audience young enough to see the irony in a spandex style rock and roll show. But there are also many of us who remember hair rock the first time and it is easy to spot where the arches and stomping come from, stock and trade rock moves. That said, a small woman filled the stage that night and a real performance was played out for our appreciation. I’ve seen a hell of a lot of swaying, shy, shoe-gazers stand rooted to the spot for an hour and play an album front to back whilst I wondered if it was worth my attention. Juliette and the Licks are there to show you a great time, they’re trying for you, it seems to help that she is an actress and they are show men, it’s worth seeing.
