Van Dyke Parks

Unbridled eccentricity at ARTBAR

While great songwriting held the show together, it was the veteran musicians’ (aged 66 and 68 respectively) downright wackiness, comedic asides and road-weary life advice that made this concert truly entertaining.

Swilling from a glass of “Mexican mouthwash” between the odd chew of his trademark cigar, some of the night’s best Kinky-isms included “find what you like and let it kill ya”, his belief that the word politics was an amalgam of “poly - meaning many, and tics - meaning bloodsucking parasites” and a story about a man and a rake that we can’t repeat here.

The tunes weren’t half bad either.

Parks, looking resplendent with his mane of white hair and foppish bow tie flicking around with every piano flourish, played a set which referenced his upbringing in the American south – think steamboats, the meandering Mississippi, and showtune-meets-honky-tonk piano.

, a song written for his wife on a rainy Los Angeles day, was particularly magical, with Parks changing rhythms and pricking up the audience’s ears with, blue, jazzy or discordant notes in the least expected places.

While Parks’ work on The Beach Boys SMiLE sessions may be his most famous credit, his 1995 collaboration with Brian Wilson, Orange Crate Art (had a lot of mucus / Comin' right out of his nose) which the songwriter penned as an eleven year-old.

After performing a set each individually, Parks and Friedman then finished the show by accompanying each other.

While they may be from different ends of the musical spectrum, seeing a witty country balladeer (and author and politician) backed by a man known for ornate melodic flourishes and arrangements of great beauty was a curious prospect.

Somehow, against all odds, the pair made it work even if Parks did have to keep thumping the piano, reminding himself to “keep it country God damnit!