Missy Lorelei has an odd, yet enjoyable, experience at Oran Mor.
This is one of the most surreal gigs I have ever experienced: Greek Cypriot singer Ioannidis, who is something of a hero in his homeland, is playing to a rapturous Mediterranean crowd. In Byres Road.
The temperature outside may have plummeted, but in here it feels like we have crashed a Greek wedding, and I have never felt so pale--and Scottish.
Incredible violinist Militiadis Papastamou effortlessly accompanies him (Ioannidis himself is a mean acoustic guitar picker) sometimes switching to cello and it is a mostly effective set when stripped back, or when straying into darker territory.
Ioannidis’ vocals are beautiful (as my partner says, often reminiscent of Thom Yorke when in a higher register) plaintive and heartfelt--but occasionally the songs are a little too anodyne- even bland enough for Radio 2.
Nevertheless, material from Anemodiktis, his self-penned album, is greeted by the audience like old friends, and Cypriot folk songs from 2006’s compilation Pou Disin Os Anatolin induce a singalong.
Feelings of a tourist’s unfamiliarity aside, it is a little bit of sunshine on a typically cold Glasgow night in April.
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