At about 6pm this evening (UK time), Friday 10th July 2015) a slight man, with a huge moustache, and an acoustic guitar, will wander, alone, onto the stage at Wembley Stadium. He’ll gaze out at 80,000 sun-kissed faces and he’ll wonder if his voice will work, if his guitar is tuned and if he’ll remember his words. He might say something like “How ya doin’?” in that lilting, sing-song accent he has. Or he might just launch into the first song, something upbeat, something to wake the crowd, grab their attention as they file back from the bar, looking for their spot, looking for their friends. To be fair, many of them will know who the man from Bangor, Norn Iron is. The star of the show, the man who has sold out 3 of these Wembley nights, talks about him in interviews, sings his songs and duets with him at the drop of a big, old cap. But they may not have heard that voice. Oh, that voice. It has tenderness, pathos and beauty. But it can also be the sound of the sea, crashing onto the cliffs of the County Down coast. Roaring. Majestic.
So, I am raising a glass, in my Berkshire garden, to that slight man from Bangor, with the huge moustache, and even bigger voice. Go well, Foy Vance. Ed Sheeran’s crowd will love you. You’re a rare fella.
Interesting. I would hope he plays to a sizable crowd. However in my recent experience support acts in large venues play to hardly anybody. People come in late and/or hang around in bars, restaurants, fast food outlets underneath the stands.