Sunlight Bathed The Golden Glow:A Trip To See The Marble Head Of Lawrence.

"You're trying to fool somebody but you end up fooling yourself" - Sunlight Bathed The Golden Glow, Felt

 

Lawrence (of Felt/Denim/Go-Kart Mozart/Mozart Estate) has long cultivated the image of an eccentric. From those early stories about him refusing to eat vegetables, sacking a drummer for having curly hair, and refusing to let other people use the toilet in his house to his move away from a kind of dream pop post-punk towards a knowing novelty rock, all the while never forgetting his desire, urge, to become a proper bona fide pop star.

That never really happened. His biggest hit, Denim's It Fell Off The Back Of A Lorry, reached number 79 in the UK charts in 1996 (though Felt's Primitive Painters did top the indie chart back in 1985 when it still meant something) and, in recent years, his appeal has become more 'selective' rather than more wide reaching. Those that know, they know. Others, and there are a lot of others, remain unmoved. If, indeed, they are even aware.

So what's a frustrated pop star to do if they're not, and never really have been, bothering the charts? Tour an old album? Find some mates from the eighties/nineties and form a 'supergroup'? Say something outrageously mean about woke culture in the hope of getting some social media infamy? Or, just an idea, have a marble head of yourself commissioned and unveiled in a glorious Fitzrovia chapel?

Of course, the latter. Lawrence hasn't always been Lawrence of Belgravia (or Edgbaston). For many years he lived on Cleveland Street in Fitzrovia so it seems likely he'd be familiar with The Fitzrovia Chapel. Perhaps that's why he chose to have it put on show there but who knows? Lawrence tends not to give everything away.

Corin Johnson, the sculptor responsible, works from a studio in Camberwell and has previously collaborated with Nick Cave, Grace Jones, and James Johnston from Gallon Drunk and made sculptures of them. I'd managed to miss all of them but with one of the world's number one Felt fans, Darren, by my side I wasn't going to miss this one.

Darren and I had walked up from Waterloo and when we arrived at the Fitzrovia Chapel an extra layer of oddness had taken over the proceedings. The chapel was open, Lawrence's head was staring out from the altar - the dismantled king was ON the throne, and, in front of that, a small group of children were having some kind of party. Drawing pictures, eating packed lunches, that kind of thing. You know how kid's parties go.

We took a seat outside until the party had ended and then went back in. They had little models of the sculpture for sale. £350 with the plinth, £300 without (I wondered how offended Lawrence would be if I bought the plinth alone for £50) and there were postcards and posters too. Lawrence won't have made a lot of money from his music career over the last four plus decades (Felt's debut album Crumbling The Antiseptic Beauty came out in February 1982, I'm listening to it as I'm typing this) so we can't blame him for trying to cash in on his infamy.

The statue itself is, of course, bizarre. It's a very good likeness - even though the real Lawrence isn't made of Portuguese pink marble. The curator of the whole thing, Martin Green - former promoter of Smashing nightclub, talked of hosting an event in the chapel some years ago with Leigh Bowery and how that inspired him to use the space to celebrate another 'maverick'.

He goes on to talk about how the work is also inspired by Ken Russell's 1975 film Tommy before the journalist Will Hodgkinson ups the stakes (in a small leaflet you pick up at the door) by waxing poetic about the likes of Saint Sebastian, Joan of Arc, and, er, Vic Godard and the Subway Sect. He makes the point, though, that if Lawrence has done one thing in his career, it's stick to his guns. You only have to listen to his most recent records to know he follows his own path and nobody else's.

Of course, if you don't know (or care) who Lawrence is, if you've never thrilled to Grey Streets or Rain of Crystal Spires - or laughed along with Middle of the Road or Drinkin' Um Bongo, then this will be of absolutely zero interest to you whatsoever. But it'd still be worth going along to have a look at the Fitzrovia Chapel itself.

It's a thing of beauty. I used to work across the road when the chapel was covered by the now demolished Middlesex Hospital (it was built to serve that hospital) rather than the bland corporate cityscape that has replaced it. For the shame, I never visited. I'm glad I've remedied that now. The chapel itself was designed, in 1891, by the Gothic Revival architect John Loughborough Pearson (other notable works:- Truro Cathedral and St. John's Cathedral in Brisbane) and it features a narthex (whatever that is - I looked it up and I'm still not much clearer), a baptistry, and a carved lectern.

Built of red brick and Portland stone, it has a very Italianate feel. More baroque/rococo than Renaissance I'd say (but I'm no expect, just a keen hobbyist). I had this confirmed when I read up to discover that some of the mosaics are inspired by work found in the Emilia-Romagna region of Italy though there's all sorts of historical, and geographical, influence gone into the work.

It feels more Felt than it does Denim/Go-Kart Mozart. It's not a novelty chapel, it's the sort of chapel where you'd expect to find a band that recorded songs with titles like Sempiternal Darkness, Crucifix Heaven, Sapphire Mansions, and Stained Glass Windows In The Sky. Fittingly, a member of staff put some Felt music on just as we were leaving. Sunlight Bathed The Golden Glow.