| |
Whiskyfun
Home
(Current
entries)
Concert
Review
Index
(All Reviews
Since 2004)
Leave
feedback
 |
Copyright
Nick Morgan and crew
|
|
|
Concert
Review by Nick Morgan |
|
 |
 |
BOOKER T JONES AND HIS BAND
Bush Hall, Shepherd’s Bush,
London
July 30th 2009 |
| Have
you ever wondered what it might be like to be trapped
in aspic somewhat like a lark’s tongue, suspended
against your will in a particular moment of time
not of your choosing, unable to move forward, unable
to go back? Can’t be pleasant, can it? Almost
like being in a coma. And yet that’s where
some people seem to wish to preserve legendary Hammond
organ player Booker
T Jones, if their reactions to his
new album, Potato Hole, are anything to go by. For
these critics, Booker T isn’t allowed to sully
the memory of the famed sixties house band for Stax
records that he shared with Steve
Cropper, Donald
‘Duck’ Dunn and the late Al Jackson,
with ‘new’ music, let alone with the
very contemporary heavy blues sound that marks the
new offering. The fact that he collaborated with
the feisty guitar-driven Drive By Truckers on the
album has earned the scorn of others (who nonetheless
choose not to criticise the presence of Neil Young’s
guitar on some of the recordings), the choice of
covers of songs like Outkast’s ‘Hey
ya’, derision. According to these views, Jones’s
fate should be to spend the rest of his life honouring
that relatively brief period of his career, joining
in regular reunions with the remnants of the band.
Now don’t get me wrong on this point; when
we saw Mr Jones and the remaining MGs in London
a few years ago it was both a memorable and moving
experience (and the show Steve Cropper put on at
last year’s Rhythm Festival was pretty special
too), exhibiting the real timeless quality of much
of the MGs’ work. But surely all that that
shouldn’t mean that Booker can’t, as
people like to say these days, ‘move on’,
let alone move forward? |
 |
Ask
the audience in the tiny (and very sold-out) Bush
Hall, that hidden gem of music hall architecture,
a rare oasis in the desert of Uxbridge Road (another
is the wonderful Esarn
Kheaw restaurant) in west London. I guess only
about half had heard the new album (judging by the
number queuing to buy it at the end of the show),
and had showed up more on the basis of past reputation
than recent work. But Mr Jones and his marvellous
band (not on this night, as on most of his tour,
the Drive by Truckers) converted almost everyone.
The withering looks of contempt that were shot at
one lonesome soul who shouted “Play some of
the old songs” about half way through, said
it all. Not that the ‘old songs’ didn’t
get an airing: the set was divided about forty/sixty
in favour of older material, not all of it from
the MGs. |
| “Here’s
a song I wrote for Albert King”, says Jones,
as the band break into ‘Born under a bad sign’;
the passion with which this was played led to an
enforced guitar string change off-stage (no guitar
technicians tonight, it’s every man for himself)
during which he softly growled his way through ‘Dock
of the bay’ (composed by MG Cropper and Otis
Redding). |
| It
has to be said that what set this performance apart,
bringing the new material to life and resuscitating
some of the old stuff too, was Jones’s band:
two gun-slinging guitarists and a tighter-than-time
rhythm section. Marc
Ford, allegedly fired by the Black
Crowes for excessive drug-taking back in the
late 1990s, and now refusing to tour with them again
because ‘he fears for his sobriety’
in their presence, owned the centre of the stage,
spitting out riffs on his Hofner
with an unexpected intensity. His partner, former
Fabulous Thunderbird Troy
Gonyea, largely confined subtlety to the trash-bin
and played with a brutal dexterity; the two of them
egged each other on as the night progressed (reaching
a climax with a suitably epic version of ‘Hang
‘em high’) under the watchful eye of
Mr Jones, himself no mean guitarist ("I became
a keyboardist by default, because 'Green Onions'
was a hit. But in my heart and soul I was always
a guitarist”). Another former Thunderbird
(and former Nightcat), Ronnie James Weber, played
low-slung bass to Darian Gray’s enthusiastic
and perfectly timed drumming. Add to this Mr Jones’s
characteristic incisive, yet often understated Hammond
organ, and you have one of the most compelling bands
we’ve seen all year, far exceeding our expectations
for the night. |
| And
of course the ear-splitting bonus was to catch an
act like this in such an intimate venue, where you
could see the band warming and responding to the
huge excitement and enthusiasm of the audience.
They went on to play a set at the Cambridge Folk
Festival, where, said a reviewer, they “opted
for bombast over communication”. |
 |
Well,
that’s ‘folkies’ for you, missing
the point yet again. I checked in my dictionary,
and for the record, there was no padding or stuffing
of any nature in this gig (nor, I should add, in
the soft-spoken Booker T who kindly took time at
the end of the gig to speak with fans). This was
blues and soul music of the best possible sort,
from the heart, and proving in the case of Mr Jones,
that there’s a lot of life left in the old
dog yet. -
Nick Morgan (photographs by Kate) |
Check
the index of all reviews:
Nick's
Concert Reviews
|
|
|
|
|
There's nothing more down there... |
|
|
|
|
