Set lists? For
wimps. Song titles? Nah, knowing what key it’s in enough. Saying Lil’ Jimmy Reed has a back to basics
approach is putting it mildly. But you
know what? This show was a classic
example of the elemental power of Mississippi blues - a tour de force of less
is more that had this observer grinning from ear to ear.
Lil’ Jimmy, if you didn’t know, is a vintage Louisiana
bluesman, real name Leon Atkins. He got
his stage monicker because his breakthrough arrived when he stepped in for the
real Jimmy Reed at a gig back in the fifties, his hero being overly tired and
emotional. His chief partner in touring
crime is London boogie woogie pianist Bob Hall, a founding member of The
Groundhogs and in his time sideman to John Lee Hooker, Howlin’ Wolf and a list
of others the length of your arm.
Lil Jimmy Reed and pals - not your average young gunslingers |
They get the show on the road here with a cranked up ‘TV
Mama’, from new album Blues In Paradise, with biting slide guitar from Reed,
and great interplay with Hall’s keys, played out over a chugging rhythm. It’s the start of a set that features
originals and a smattering of blues classics.
On the slow groove of ‘Tell Me Baby’ Reed adds the proverbial wailing
harp to the mix, before shifting into ‘Big Boss Man’ from Jimmy Reed the Elder.
There’s a lengthy debate about the next song, which seems to
establish nothing more than that “it’s in G”.
How this helps drummer Simon Pooley is anyone’s guess, but it’s a belter
of
a track nevertheless. Reed kicks off
with sparse, skidding licks, before Bob Hall demonstrates that he knows
precisely what’s what, intuitively complementing Reed’s guitar fills as the
song resolves into ‘When You Leave Don’t Take Nothin’’, also from the new
album. Playing without a pick
throughout, Reed’s long, spindly fingers work their magic on something that
might or might not be titled ‘Down In The Jungle’, as a prelude to a blistering
solo from Hall.
"It's in G!" |
On (big) Jimmy Reed’s ‘Can’t Stand To See You Go’ the combo
conjure up a simple groove and plunder it to the hilt. The drive and swing in that groove is
remarkable, produced by just guitar, drums, piano and Hilary Blythe’s
short-scale acoustic U-Bass. ‘Hoochie
Coochie Man’ features ringing guitar, before Reed goes down dome different
roads with his licks on a slowish blues, showing the value that can be
extracted from what might be regarded as bum notes. (I seem to remember reading about Captain
Beefheart telling someone that he tried to find every wrong note he could.)
The set closes with a stonking version of ‘Every Day I Have
The Blues’, concluding when Reed “retires hurt”, as Bob Hall puts it, with a
cramp in his left hand. Such are the
challenges for a veteran bluesman, who can still show younger generations a
thing or nine.
Support act the Al Brown Band are a mite too jazzy for these
ears, but that’s just personal taste.
They’re an accomplished outfit, and turn out a good version of Louis
Jordan’s ‘Early In The Mornin’’, working around a jungle-like rhythm. On the slow
blues of ‘Jelly Roll’ Brown
on guitar and Matthew Bell on keyboards combine
naturally, and Brown’s solo never lets the melody get entirely out of
earshot. But mellow is very much the
name of the game.
Brian Carpy and Al Brown - jammin' |
When Glasgow chum Brian Carpy, now emigrated to Chicago,
gets up to jam on Freddie King’s ‘Sidetracked’, it provides a welcome shot of electricity. Brown immediately raises his game, Carpy
fires a solo in from unexpected angles, and even Bell gets off his stool,
presumably to follow more easily what the two guitar players are up to. ‘T-Bone Shuffle’ similarly demonstrates how
the challenge of jamming can charge a set with additional energy.
No comments:
Post a Comment