For the past three or so years I’ve slowly been turning away from music to find solace in comedy instead and this has been echoed in my choice of entertainment of an evening. Gone are the punk rock gigs that I used to attend, replaced by comedians of various genres and sizes. In fact, before this month I hadn’t been to a music gig since last February (Ginger from The Wildhearts at The New Roscoe in case you were wondering). I think it’s down to two things, the first being that not many artists grab my attention nowadays - though when they do they always manage to hold it - and the second being that if they do grab my attention then they’re often too identikit for my liking (sure, Henry’s Beans are awesome but hang about, don’t they sound exactly like Kamera Automatic and The Polished Turds?).

Don’t get me wrong, I still love and listen to music, it’s just most of it doesn’t interest me and I only really venture out to gigs nowadays where I feel that everything that artist has done can’t be classified as crap, which explains why my last gig was Ginger’s (I have my reasons for missing subsequent Wildhearts gigs, ok?) as I could listen to his songs forever, even Clam Abuse, Endless Nameless and Howling Willie.

Fast-forward to mid-November and along with Tim Minchin, Ginger was still my music of choice and then I happened upon Duke Special due to the aforementioned Minchin supporting him at a gig. It was love at first listen with a distinctly unique sound and beautiful poetic lyrics (not something I’m usually a fan of). I won’t attempt to describe it as not only will I fail miserably but I fear I won’t do it any justice.

Due to my love of him I bought three sets of tickets to shows on the tour that has just ended, despite never having seen him live before. I clearly made the right choice when doing so as the shows have just been amazing, last night at the Deaf Institute in Manchester especially so. Aside from the support acts, everything about it was just perfect.

The show took place in ‘The Music Hall’ space of the venue, which was small and dressed up to mimic and parody the idea of the Victorian era, when Music Hall was popular, with its wallpaper with the pattern of a Victorian-style drawing and its Victorian-esque hanging candelabras (with lightbulbs, not candles though). Given the style of music that was going to be played that night, a more perfect venue couldn’t have existed apart from an actual music hall. Previously I’d seen him in a dingy rock club that I’d rather not visit again and a stable, of all things, neither of which compared to this gorgeous room.

The support bands were of various quality and for some strange reason there were three of them, which seemed quite a few to fit on the bill before Duke. In York there was just the touring support band, Dan Michaelson and the Coastguards, and then there was the added bonus of Paul Pilot, who I fell in love with, at London so three support acts just seemed a bit much. Still, they didn’t spoil too much of the evening despite the fact they couldn’t have been more different from Duke if they tried.

Duke entered the stage to rapturous applause and proceeded to sing ‘Low’, despite having previously opened with ‘Mocking Bird Wish Me Luck’, though Duke went on later in the show to explain that this was the last show and that anything could happen and indeed anything did; notably a short whisk and grater masterclass from Temperance society Chip Bailey, Duke’s percussionist, as Duke went off to the loo (they were down two flights of stairs apparently).

The set consisted of majestic ballads like ‘Mockingbird…’ and ‘Why Does Anybody Love?’, stomping singalongs like ‘Last Night I Nearly Died’ and ‘Sweet, Sweet Kisses’ as well as what was referred to as ‘The Death Trilogy’, which comprised of ‘Digging an Early Grave’, ‘Henry Lee’ (with Dan Michaelson) and ‘Flesh and Blood Dance’.

My personal favourite of the night was the b-side to his new single, ‘The Jockey Club (A Bitch Called Wanda)’, which is based on one of the movies by the silent film star Hector Mann, who disappeared in 1929. For this Duke removed himself from the stage and wandered to a second piano in the middle of the room to play it there. Or at least he would have, except in Manchester the room was so tightly packed and up so many flights of stairs that it wasn’t feasible to get the second piano in.

Instead it was played as part of the encore, which was also situated around the second piano, which was downstairs in the cafe in Manchester. It was probably this part of the night that was the most enjoyable, despite not necessarily having the best view at any of the shows, just because it was so cosy and intimate with Duke playing by candlelight and getting everyone in the immediate vicinity of the piano to sit down too so us the back could see something.

The encore was always started with a cover of a song Duke particularly liked or had some significance to him; in York it was ‘Orangefield’, in London it was ‘Baby Britain’ and in Manchester we were treated to ‘Maps’. Immediately following this song was ‘Down at the Bull and Bush’, a song that required audience participation of the highest degree (there’s nothing like a good singalong is there?). The encore was always finished off with firm fan favourite ‘Our Love Goes Deeper Than This’, again involving a meaty portion of audience participation.

The show didn’t stop there though, with Duke always opting to do one more song and it’s memories of these songs that will always make me smile. In York we had a mass singalong to ‘Everybody Wants A Little Something’, one of my favourite Duke songs, which sounded amazing with a chorus of people singing it and then in Manchester we were treated to ‘Freewheel’, which still sends shivers down my spine when I think about the almost ghostly singing from the audience during the chorus - it was gorgeous.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’ve enjoyed these shows more than I could have ever hoped to given my interest in current musicians and that I recommend him to anyone who’ll listen to me for the Duke, he is Special.