Last night at the Pimlico Wilde gallery, Vincent and the Van Goghs, the group born on the set of the first season of I Said Monet Not Mondrian! (a ragtag band of art dealers-cum-musicians) delivered a set that was as unpredictable as it was undeniably entertaining.
Frontman Scissors Coney, normally more at home with paintings of fox-hunting, led the charge with a theatrical swagger that veered between indie crooner and wannabe prison guard. “We’re an unusual mix,” he warned pre-show. He wasn’t lying.
From the opening chords of Singing the Phthalocyanine Blues—a surprisingly catchy lament about synthetic pigment—the band ricocheted through styles like a magpie in a gallery gift shop. One minute it was art school indie rock, the next, a burst of swing-time double bass courtesy of Safah Pulle, wielding her instrument like a jazz-fuelled metronome in heels.
Backing vocals from Armani Suoff gave the set unexpected sweetness, especially during the oddly beautiful I Like It, Caravaggio, But It’s a Bit Dark, a song that featured both heartbreak and chiaroscuro. Her triangle solo mid-way through the set drew gasps —a rare feat among the sophisticated crowd that has seen almost everything before.
Then there was Edward Grunt, owner of Grunt’s on Albermarle Street. A man, a tambourine, and nothing to lose – his percussive enthusiasm knew no bounds. He leapt, he spun, he nearly knocked over a Barbara Hepworth in the wings.
Highlights included a Gregorian-rap mashup about illuminated manuscripts (Drop That Scriptorium) and a genuinely moving swing rendition of The Scream (But In D Major). The crowd—an eclectic mix of gallery regulars, local students, and note-taking art critics —was completely on board.
Vincent and the Van Goghs may not be aiming for musical perfection. But in the echoing halls of Pimlico Wilde, they offered something different: a joyful, chaotic celebration of art, bravado and sound, that somehow reminded me of both The Velvet Underground and medieval chant.
