Choose your weapon. Artists are closely defined in the public imagination by their instrument of choice. Though the most untamed and transgressive progenitors of rock’n’roll – Jerry Lee Lewis and Little Richard – were piano pounders, and despite the later efforts of Elton John, over time the instrument has come to be associated with restraint and politesse; the straight second cousin to rock’s clichéd wild child, the electric guitar.
He strolled on stage like a stranger and left 100 minutes later as an old friend I hadn’t realised I’d missed
American singer-songwriter Ben Folds has been playing with these expectations for the best part of 30 years, first in Ben Folds Five, then as a solo artist. His music pledges allegiance – sometimes, you feel, a little self-consciously – to the ornate piano-pop composers of the 1960s, 70s and 80s: Randy Newman, Gilbert O’Sullivan, Harry Nilsson, Billy Joel; Neil Sedaka and Barry Manilow, even.

Get Britain's best politics newsletters
Register to get The Spectator's insight and opinion straight to your inbox. You can then read two free articles each week.
Already a subscriber? Log in
Comments
Join the debate for just £1 a month
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for £3.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just £1 a monthAlready a subscriber? Log in