Waiting for Columbus - again

Let’s start with a quiz. Have you ever been disappointed by a show at St George’s? The correct answer is surely not. A small venue created from an early 19th century church, it has perfect acoustics (Radio 3 record some of their classical broadcasts for later transmission here) and an intimate atmosphere which compensates for the regimented seating and slightly clinical air. You will not see people ripping up seats and dancing in the aisles here. But you will be sucked into an involving experience that will leave you in a better place than when you arrived. And it has a great little bar downstairs in the crypt.
So tonight we have Paul Barrere and Fred Tackett, described as the acoustic guitars from Little Feat. And that’s what you get (with a mandolin thrown in). However, this does not do them justice. If you are familiar with Little Feat then you will know that they were a fantastic band started in the very late 60s when Lowell George played Willin’ to his then employer Frank Zappa who told him it was nice and maybe he should form his own band. Now, also famous about Little Feat was that Lowell George was the leader who wiped himself out from cocaine use and abuse (it killed him and the band in ’79) and, when the band decided to reconvene nine years later the lead was increasingly taken by keyboard player Bill Payne. Good but not the real deal.
Now along come these two playing a selection of tunes that you know and love but giving them an acoustic twist and sending them off in a whole new direction. These guys also know the tunes and, what I personally love, an ability to present a song, take it somewhere completely different and either bring it back or end up in another song entirely. This they performed early on with a short foray going from Two Trains to Rocket in my Pocket and then, shortly afterwards, usiing Willin’ as a launch point and then through Don’t Bogart that Joint, Long Black Veil and the Weight (not previously in the Feat canon) and then back into Willin’. If there had been any doubt that this was going to be an impressive evening then those doubts were well gone by now. Paul Barrere is a consummate slide guitarist – and being able to hear his playing outside of a big electric band boosted him up my ratings. Ghost of Lowell George suitably exorcised (appropriately for the venue). And Fred Tackett is no slouch either with some fantastic mandolin playing on Dixie Chicken and elsewhere that more than surpassed the piano work of memory. They played two sets covering much of the original phase of Little Feat’s life with stuff from the Band, Alison Krauss and some other odds and ends and they were just stunningly excellent. If you know Little Feat then you should certainly see this. If you like acoustic guitars playing folk, blues, gospel, rock n roll then you should go and see them. The onstage banter is pretty good too.
You see, another fine show at St George’s. Case closed.

man in hat creates electric storm

Another album another tour. Richard Thompson is becoming the grand old man of folk-rock. Having been present at its birth with his pioneering work with Fairport Convention (a band he helped form and then left around ‘71) he has been solo – albeit with then-wife Linda for a few years – ever since. It is a reflection on the dearth of reasonable mid-size Bristol venues that, if RT (as us diehards know him) is coming to town then the Colston Hall is where you have to go. A hall of suspect acoustics and dire seating arrangements so that the experience is more akin to watching a works safety video and giving the performer some work to do to whip up an atmosphere. Still, the boy has played here often enough in the past so he knows what he has to do.
The show follows the usual pattern of his tours, some tracks from the new album – Sweet Warrior this time – followed by a rummage around his back catalogue. It has to be said that his new album sounds like a return to form – that much touted expression that often means at least it’s not as bad as their recent work (see Front Parlour Ballads – I just listened to it again, hmm) but in this case it definitely seems to stand up with some of the greater, earlier stuff.
You also get an acoustic section. So we were treated to a Sandy Denny vintage Fairport song (Who Knows Where the Time Goes – almost intact) together with a gripping Vincent Black Lightning. No Beeswing but in a way that was quite refreshing in itself. What you get most prominently, however, is some blistering electric guitar work. We were sufficiently close to notice that the finger work was looking increasingly like some crab addled on acid picking and clawing at all the strings in some frenzy. Yay! Whilst each song generally gives RT some range for soloing, this tour’s wig out song is Hard on Me taken from the Mock Tudor album and his guitar is given a serious mangling over about 10 minutes, reminiscent of the pounding that Calvary Cross used to get. Quality stuff indeed and verging on the transcendental. This is not just soloing because he’s a guitar god but seriously exorcising some angst in the way that Neil Young and, yes, old boy Hendrix are renowned for. And it’s fantastic to be a witness to it.
And an honourable mention for Michael Jerome on drums, Danny Thompson on double bass and Pete Zorn on pretty much everything. All had a fine evening with particular credit for their soloing on Al Bowley’s in Heaven. The scheduled support act passed us by – we forgot it was an old folk’s night which means it all starts on time. Hey ho.
So, you get a show that follows the format of pretty much all the shows he does on his tours but within that you get some stonkingly fine stuff that makes the experience new all over again. So I guess I now start the wait for the next tour.

Down in Bishopston, something stirs

The heart of alt.country Americana comes to a parish church hall in the backwoods of Bishopston. How do they do it? When I last went there was a crowd (crowd?) of around 10 for the wonderful Joe Henry. He deserved better – did anyone else know he was playing there? So imagine our surprise to discover what seemed a stadium-size crowd for Richmond Fontaine. A group who won the hearts of all the middle aged rock mags (Uncut, Mojo etc) in the UK a couple of years back, before being cast aside again which maybe explains why they now keep popping up in Bristol. There was some trepidation as to whether they would live up to my own fevered expectations – if they were that good what were they doing in a room previously occupied by so few people? Well not to worry. They appeared as a five piece – two fender telecasters, one pedal steel (alternated with trumpet), bass and drums. As they developed a groove on the first number the guitarist upped and legged it, the others carrying on and paying him no mind. In fact he only reappeared for the closing chords. An interesting start. However, as they got further into their act the better they got. Tracks from their recent albums intertwined with older ones back to Post to Wire – including the fabulously weird Willamette giving them a chance to freak out in a psychedelic style as they used to say. Not to everyone’s taste but definitely mine. In Willy Vlautin they have a songwriter who explores the darker side of life – again, not everyone’s choice but I love a bit of angst-riddled depression – whilst maintaining a relaxed repartee with the crowd. He announced that we’d be able to dance to the next one. We couldn’t and I’d claim no-one even tried. The rest of the band were on the mark too – fine lead guitar and fabulous pedal steel and much better than you’d think dollops of trumpet which really did work. And the bass player has his own solo album out which is some feat (although the track he played for one of the encores suggested his songwriting skills are not as well-honed as Willy’s. So a fine show to the truncated end – he announced they could only play one more and someone pointed out that there were still two listed on his set-list. Blame the cruel burghers of Bristol or something. He and the band were great.

Folk music - it's a young man's world

This item is dedicated to absent friends who were confounded by geography.
Following on from our trip to Frome and the acoustic dungeon it was reassuring to see on the Bristol Academy’s website an endorsement from the NUS that “sound quality is of a high standard”. Good start. It also claims that “the balconies and different levels are perfect for band watching”. Not normally an issue but don’t knock it. So it was with a cheerful step that we bounced out of Zero Degrees (mango beer again?!) along to the venue and into another bar. The reality of the balconies and different levels comment is that if you have got there early and bagged a space up against the railings then great, otherwise you’re worse off than normal. Hey ho.
So to Seth. He seems to be accelerating at a rate of knots having first seen him just under two years ago in the back room of a pub and then through a variety of venues, including the aforesaid Frome dungeon (actually it was bad then too) and, as others have also said, one of the finest performances at Glastonbury this summer and now here he is filling up 1,600 seater venues. Not bad for a folkie. But then he has adapted with the change. On first sighting as a duo with his mate Benji then appearing as the Seth Lakeman trio (there were four of them) and now what presumably is the Seth Lakeman quartet (there were five of them). So you get Seth on fiddle and various (deliberately) four string guitars and a bit of banjo, his brother Sean on acoustic guitar (all sx strings present and accounted for), a double bass player with a sideline in banjo and not one but two percussionists, sharing a full drum kit and bashing away at various bashable things. We have come some way from the traditional folk evening – there were no fingers in ears at this gig! Note for the ladies, yes one of the percussionists was indeed the one that caused such heart flutters and murmurs that time at the Bierkeller. His tub thumping is pretty good too.
Musically Seth covered off early stuff, new songs and everything in between with a solo tour de force on Kitty Jay with just his singing and storming, energised fiddle – no wonder he looks like he’s knicked one of Popeye’s spinach-enhanced arms. Meanwhile there were regular infusions of vast amounts of dry ice – this was either to compensate for the smoking ban or to recreate his Dartmoor home. This was matched with a light show that added to the rock n roll feel. All of which went down a storm with a varied crowd of old gits and student yoof.
Support was Teddy Thompson – who seems to be doomed to this role. Still at least he’s support on good bills (last saw him supporting Lucinda Williams and he was ace). Here he seemed slightly more subdued and the audience, whilst pretty much all in attendance (no mean feat for a support act), took longer to appreciate what he was up to. This may have been aggravated by his recent quest to show people that country & western is good – which it is but some folks just don’t like to be told that. Hah! More fool them I say. He deserves to go big. But Seth is getting bigger ahead of him. Good luck to them both and thanks for a great night.