FEATURE:
Spotlight
Gerry Cinnamon
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THERE are some artists who…
are quite divisive, and one never knows why there is objection and that negativity. Gerry Cinnamon is an artist I have been aware of for a while now, and I was told about his music about a year ago. He has been compared with artists like Lewis Capaldi but, to be fair, Cinnamon is more interesting and attractive then Capaldi. I really like his music, and he is an artist who puts on a top live set, and builds word of mouth. I love artists who build that word of mouth, and you get people chatting passionately. Although some find Cinnamon a little controversial or a bit similar to other artists, I think he is an original voice that has a long future. This interesting NME feature from last year shone a light on a breakthrough artist with an amazing sound:
“The lack of mainstream media uptake on Cinnamon speaks to a sort of snobbishness about his genre of music and his fans. It’s easy to caricature him as nu-ladrock (‘Belter’ is about a girl who is “a belter”) and his fans as stray members of Liam’s parka monkey tribe, but that is, at heart, regional and class snobbery.
Cinnamon makes music for mates, essentially. And everyone here is in a group of mates who’ve shared his music among them. It’s a word-of-mouth sensation, the kind of analogue oddity you don’t expect in the digital age, but is so much bigger and stronger than Twitterati leaping on the latest trend.
Cinnamon’s presence here, and that of peoples’ prince Lewis Capaldi, and The Courteeners, is a marker of a revolution that’s happening in music at the moment – ordinary people bashing down the doors previously guarded by tastemakers”.
Cinnamon is set to release The Bonny on 10th April; it follows his 2017 album, Erratic Cinematic. I am looking forward to that album, and it will be interesting to see what Cinnamon produces. It is clear that Cinnamon’s early life – he was born Gerry Crosbie – was pretty tough, and I think a certain determination and toughness feeds into his work. He is an exceptional live performer, and he makes for a compelling interviewee. When he spoke with The Face last year, we learned more about an artist who can charm and wow people with ease:
“Gerry Cinnamon – born Gerry Crosbie – is a 35-year-old musician from the Castlemilk housing scheme in Glasgow. His childhood was challenging (“my life was fucking mental growing up”): no father figure around, it seems, and some trouble in his teens. He’s worked as a scaffolder and plumber, and he’s tried the band route, but it didn’t suit him. He has, then, some life experiences under his belt, and it comes pouring out in his songs.
He’s a stick-thin pocket Mod, lean and compact and smiley, a cheerful man bristling with wiry energy. Underneath his near permanently-affixed Bob Dylan cap is a carefully coiffed Britpop haircut. The rest of his uniform comprises skintight, heavy selvedge jeans and Adidas sportswear. Covering the entirety of the back of his right hand is a full tattoo of the face of his beloved Rascal. The wee terrier accompanies Cinnamon on tour, as does his (Gerry’s, not the dog’s) manager, Kayleigh. She’s given up her dayjob as a human rights lawyer to look after her partner. Cinnamon doesn’t drink before shows and is trying to give up the fags on this tour, but is allowing himself the odd weed vape now and then.
Before he comes onstage, he tickles the audience with a carefully curated playlist: a bit of Oasis, a bit of Courteeners, before climaxing with Neil Diamond’s Sweet Caroline, which everyone in the room tears into with vocal gusto. It’s like your best mate’s bevvied-up birthday party or wedding, or an arena-sized one-night alcoholiday.
The music and the vibe of Gerry Cinnamon, then: it’s not cool, it’s not clever, it’s not edgy. It’s just real. He’s just real. That’s all – and everything – his fans want.
“I started writing songs, and I was like: right, I need to gig these,” he begins by way of explaining his one-man-band approach. But playing multi-band bills in the pubs and clubs of Glasgow, typically, “you get ripped off. They take five to six quid for a £7 ticket. You need to sell between 25 and 50 tickets, then you have to get on the bill and stuff and it’s a fucking cattle market.
“I thought, ‘fuck this, man,’ and sold all my electric guitars. With the money, I bought a loop pedal.”
That way, even when playing shitty pub gigs, Cinnamon could control his own sound. “When the sound guy fucked off for a fag, I could [hit] a kick drum, do my own mix and if he’s done a shit mix, just pump the volume. I would have the place absolutely rocking. And then from there you start taking over a wee bit, you know what I mean? I started establishing myself”.
I have seen a lot of ‘ones to watch’ lists for 2020, and I have not seen Gerry Cinnamon appear as much as he should have. Maybe the fact he has been recording for a few years means he is considered a bit established and not ‘new’. I think it is well worth checking out Cinnamon’s work, and go and follow him on social media if you can – the links are at the bottom of this feature.
I am going to wrap things up in a bit but, with an album due and a lot of new fans discovering his music, I think 2020 will be a stellar year for Cinnamon. I think his live sets are largely responsible for so much buzz and word of mouth. He seems to transform himself when he is faced with an audience. This is The Guardian’s review of a performance in Sydney from December:
“On stage Cinnamon transforms them into out-and-out bangers. Armed busker-style with an acoustic guitar, harmonica and a loop pedal with a stonking sonic boom, he stomps and shouts and races about, barking with delighted laughter mid-ballad and serving up a leave-everything-on-stage energy that sends audiences into ecstasy.
When Cinnamon finally takes the stage he launches straight into the bluesy, riff-laden Lullaby, its chorus accompanied by stage-to-ceiling blasts of smoke (as if Sydney needed any more), then the breezy album opener, Sometimes. Both are songs you could end a set with and are met with rapture.
Dark Days, from the forthcoming album The Bonny, delivers the line: “These are the best days that you’re ever gonna have.” Canter starts with: “This is the beginning of the rest of your life / You better start movin’ like you’re running out of time.” Exhortations to seize the moment, and this man is playing as if it’s his Last. Gig. Ever.
The crowd are dancing and moshing and singing and hugging and high fiving and livestreaming the show to friends back home, whose stunned faces stare back at us from phones held high. It’s a sweaty, glorious frenzy of connection”.
If you want to see Cinnamon perform, then you can do so. He is a fantastic musician and someone who will keep on growing and noticing up success. If you need a new artist that is different to everyone out there, then Gerry Cinnamon is…
ONE to look out for.
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Follow Gerry Cinnamon
