The term Renaissance man has been in use since the 14th century, but one suspects if it hadn’t it would have been coined for Eric Cantona. Since his shock retirement at the age of 30, the generation-defining footballer has turned his hand to acting, activism, photography, poetry and even beach soccer. During the pandemic he taught himself guitar and began songwriting, and it’s this latest pastime that brings me to a London music venue on a cool Wednesday evening in April.
There’s a healthy turnout of Manchester United supporters at King’s Place in north London, many sporting shirts and scarves, excited for a glimpse of their hero. The fact that the gig is on the night of Manchester City’s quarter-final exit against Real Madrid will come as a bonus for them at the end of an extraordinary evening.
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We hear Cantona before we see him, his iconic growl echoing out onto a stage already featuring a piano player and cellist. When he eventually appears, a huge cheer goes up from the crowd, everyone clearly thrilled to be in his presence. He’s wearing a pork-pie hat, thick-rimmed glasses and giant red boots, and is taking regular sips from a hip flask emblazoned with the Union Jack.
It becomes clear very quickly that a lot of his songs will be about himself, often with wink-wink references to his playing career. The opening track, I’ll Make My Own Heaven, slyly references his infamous
kung-fu kick, with the lyrics “I’ve been heroic, I’ve been criminal/I’ve been angelic, I’ve been infernal/You hate me, you love me.”
The term Renaissance man has been in use since the 14th century, but one suspects if it hadn’t it would have been coined for Eric Cantona. Since his shock retirement at the age of 30, the generation-defining footballer has turned his hand to acting, activism, photography, poetry and even beach soccer. During the pandemic he taught himself guitar and began songwriting, and it’s this latest pastime that brings me to a London music venue on a cool Wednesday evening in April.
There’s a healthy turnout of Manchester United supporters at King’s Place in north London, many sporting shirts and scarves, excited for a glimpse of their hero. The fact that the gig is on the night of Manchester City’s quarter-final exit against Real Madrid will come as a bonus for them at the end of an extraordinary evening.
We hear Cantona before we see him, his iconic growl echoing out onto a stage already featuring a piano player and cellist. When he eventually appears, a huge cheer goes up from the crowd, everyone clearly thrilled to be in his presence. He’s wearing a pork-pie hat, thick-rimmed glasses and giant red boots, and is taking regular sips from a hip flask emblazoned with the Union Jack.
It becomes clear very quickly that a lot of his songs will be about himself, often with wink-wink references to his playing career. The opening track, I’ll Make My Own Heaven, slyly references his infamous
kung-fu kick, with the lyrics “I’ve been heroic, I’ve been criminal/I’ve been angelic, I’ve been infernal/You hate me, you love me.”
His vocal style is more talk-singing; think Lou Reed or Leonard Cohen. There are no operatic high notes here, although at one point he does display a genuinely impressive vibrato whistle. Further into the set, we get into his weirder material, including a spoken-word style piece about being a lizard drinking a cocktail. He dances around the stage erratically, and makes classic cryptic pronouncements between songs, including the declaration “I am the sun” and a mention of French astronaut Thomas Pesquet.
Halfway through the set, he introduces an “old friend” to come and sing a song with him, and you feel the crowd tense up. Could it be Roy Keane? Has Gary Neville suddenly launched a music career too? Instead, Bobby Gillespie from Primal Scream walks on, a guest appearance that would go down a storm at any normal show, but you sense here is a minor disappointment. They sing a well-meaning but extremely cringeworthy song about war together before Bobby bows and departs.
Cantona ends on a song featuring the pronouncement “You’ll never see me again” —prompting one audience member to shout “NO, ERIC!” — before quickly returning for an encore. This is the part the audience have been waiting for, as he plays I Love You So much, a number dedicated to Manchester United fans. A huge cheer goes up for the line “You call me Eric, the king”, and another when he quotes his infamous seagulls line word for word.
The sheer joy of this song causes some members of the crowd to spontaneously burst into a Manchester United chant, and he departs to a standing ovation and rapturous applause. Most footballers look to move into punditry or commentary after their playing careers are over, but as tonight most definitely proves, Cantona is not most footballers.
The term Renaissance man has been in use since the 14th century, but one suspects if it hadn’t it would have been coined for Eric Cantona. Since his shock retirement at the age of 30, the generation-defining footballer has turned his hand to acting, activism, photography, poetry and even beach soccer. During the pandemic he taught himself guitar and began songwriting, and it’s this latest pastime that brings me to a London music venue on a cool Wednesday evening in April.
There’s a healthy turnout of Manchester United supporters at King’s Place in north London, many sporting shirts and scarves, excited for a glimpse of their hero. The fact that the gig is on the night of Manchester City’s quarter-final exit against Real Madrid will come as a bonus for them at the end of an extraordinary evening.
We hear Cantona before we see him, his iconic growl echoing out onto a stage already featuring a piano player and cellist. When he eventually appears, a huge cheer goes up from the crowd, everyone clearly thrilled to be in his presence. He’s wearing a pork-pie hat, thick-rimmed glasses and giant red boots, and is taking regular sips from a hip flask emblazoned with the Union Jack.
It becomes clear very quickly that a lot of his songs will be about himself, often with wink-wink references to his playing career. The opening track, I’ll Make My Own Heaven, slyly references his infamous
kung-fu kick, with the lyrics “I’ve been heroic, I’ve been criminal/I’ve been angelic, I’ve been infernal/You hate me, you love me.”
The term Renaissance man has been in use since the 14th century, but one suspects if it hadn’t it would have been coined for Eric Cantona. Since his shock retirement at the age of 30, the generation-defining footballer has turned his hand to acting, activism, photography, poetry and even beach soccer. During the pandemic he taught himself guitar and began songwriting, and it’s this latest pastime that brings me to a London music venue on a cool Wednesday evening in April.
There’s a healthy turnout of Manchester United supporters at King’s Place in north London, many sporting shirts and scarves, excited for a glimpse of their hero. The fact that the gig is on the night of Manchester City’s quarter-final exit against Real Madrid will come as a bonus for them at the end of an extraordinary evening.
We hear Cantona before we see him, his iconic growl echoing out onto a stage already featuring a piano player and cellist. When he eventually appears, a huge cheer goes up from the crowd, everyone clearly thrilled to be in his presence. He’s wearing a pork-pie hat, thick-rimmed glasses and giant red boots, and is taking regular sips from a hip flask emblazoned with the Union Jack.
It becomes clear very quickly that a lot of his songs will be about himself, often with wink-wink references to his playing career. The opening track, I’ll Make My Own Heaven, slyly references his infamous
kung-fu kick, with the lyrics “I’ve been heroic, I’ve been criminal/I’ve been angelic, I’ve been infernal/You hate me, you love me.”
The term Renaissance man has been in use since the 14th century, but one suspects if it hadn’t it would have been coined for Eric Cantona. Since his shock retirement at the age of 30, the generation-defining footballer has turned his hand to acting, activism, photography, poetry and even beach soccer. During the pandemic he taught himself guitar and began songwriting, and it’s this latest pastime that brings me to a London music venue on a cool Wednesday evening in April.
There’s a healthy turnout of Manchester United supporters at King’s Place in north London, many sporting shirts and scarves, excited for a glimpse of their hero. The fact that the gig is on the night of Manchester City’s quarter-final exit against Real Madrid will come as a bonus for them at the end of an extraordinary evening.
We hear Cantona before we see him, his iconic growl echoing out onto a stage already featuring a piano player and cellist. When he eventually appears, a huge cheer goes up from the crowd, everyone clearly thrilled to be in his presence. He’s wearing a pork-pie hat, thick-rimmed glasses and giant red boots, and is taking regular sips from a hip flask emblazoned with the Union Jack.
It becomes clear very quickly that a lot of his songs will be about himself, often with wink-wink references to his playing career. The opening track, I’ll Make My Own Heaven, slyly references his infamous
kung-fu kick, with the lyrics “I’ve been heroic, I’ve been criminal/I’ve been angelic, I’ve been infernal/You hate me, you love me.”
His vocal style is more talk-singing; think Lou Reed or Leonard Cohen. There are no operatic high notes here, although at one point he does display a genuinely impressive vibrato whistle. Further into the set, we get into his weirder material, including a spoken-word style piece about being a lizard drinking a cocktail. He dances around the stage erratically, and makes classic cryptic pronouncements between songs, including the declaration “I am the sun” and a mention of French astronaut Thomas Pesquet.
Halfway through the set, he introduces an “old friend” to come and sing a song with him, and you feel the crowd tense up. Could it be Roy Keane? Has Gary Neville suddenly launched a music career too? Instead, Bobby Gillespie from Primal Scream walks on, a guest appearance that would go down a storm at any normal show, but you sense here is a minor disappointment. They sing a well-meaning but extremely cringeworthy song about war together before Bobby bows and departs.
Cantona ends on a song featuring the pronouncement “You’ll never see me again” —prompting one audience member to shout “NO, ERIC!” — before quickly returning for an encore. This is the part the audience have been waiting for, as he plays I Love You So much, a number dedicated to Manchester United fans. A huge cheer goes up for the line “You call me Eric, the king”, and another when he quotes his infamous seagulls line word for word.
The sheer joy of this song causes some members of the crowd to spontaneously burst into a Manchester United chant, and he departs to a standing ovation and rapturous applause. Most footballers look to move into punditry or commentary after their playing careers are over, but as tonight most definitely proves, Cantona is not most footballers.
The term Renaissance man has been in use since the 14th century, but one suspects if it hadn’t it would have been coined for Eric Cantona. Since his shock retirement at the age of 30, the generation-defining footballer has turned his hand to acting, activism, photography, poetry and even beach soccer. During the pandemic he taught himself guitar and began songwriting, and it’s this latest pastime that brings me to a London music venue on a cool Wednesday evening in April.
There’s a healthy turnout of Manchester United supporters at King’s Place in north London, many sporting shirts and scarves, excited for a glimpse of their hero. The fact that the gig is on the night of Manchester City’s quarter-final exit against Real Madrid will come as a bonus for them at the end of an extraordinary evening.
We hear Cantona before we see him, his iconic growl echoing out onto a stage already featuring a piano player and cellist. When he eventually appears, a huge cheer goes up from the crowd, everyone clearly thrilled to be in his presence. He’s wearing a pork-pie hat, thick-rimmed glasses and giant red boots, and is taking regular sips from a hip flask emblazoned with the Union Jack.
It becomes clear very quickly that a lot of his songs will be about himself, often with wink-wink references to his playing career. The opening track, I’ll Make My Own Heaven, slyly references his infamous
kung-fu kick, with the lyrics “I’ve been heroic, I’ve been criminal/I’ve been angelic, I’ve been infernal/You hate me, you love me.”
