STEVEN James Adams is the best type of humorist: funny sad. He happens to be a singer-songwriter but he would stand up as a stand-up too and so you have the best of both worlds, especially now that he has shed a band and is all alone on stage.
"A black cloud is coming," he sings with ever increasing urgency as he opens without introducing himself, after Sam Griffiths and Boss Caine represent the best of York, young and battle-hardened.
What kind of man am I, he asks himself, but the audience knows the answer already, feeling emboldened to engage in banter in the proximity of The Basement stage, from being on familiar terms with Adams from his time singing the country blues in The Broken Family Band and The Singing Adams.
"I'll play a short and miserable one now," he says. "Short and miserable – like me." He is short and miserable, the song is short and miserable but it is beautiful too, a lament to missing the stars as he ponders whether they will ever shine again.
"I thought I'd get the party started before we all go to Revolution," he deadpans, as the throbbing music from next door sticks its unwanted elbow through the wall.
Adams has a new album to promote called House Music, and he does so before arriving at his "heritage set", discarding his microphone to sing up close and personal by the finale.
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