Beth Hart - A Tribute To Led Zeppelin

What’s the point of this album?
The story goes that one day during the recording of Beth Hart’s last album, 2019's outstanding War In My Mind, when Hart gave a spur of the moment rendition of ‘Whole Lotta Love’.  Her producer, Rob Cavallo, was so impressed he suggested she do a complete Zeppelin album.  Hart said no, on the grounds that she’d need to be at her most enraged to deliver the necessary vocals. Whether being incandescent is a must to sing all of these songs is a moot point (‘Rain Song’, anyone?), but after living through Covid for a while, Hart decided she was pissed off enough to go for it.
Which is all very interesting, but it doesn’t really answer my question.

Beth Hart gets ready to bring it on home

Pic by Roxanne de Roode

Tribute albums come in different shapes and sizes.  Sometimes an artist will revisit the work of an earlier act, encouraging their own fans to follow them in a voyage of discovery.  Well let’s face it, that doesn’t apply here, ‘cause Zeppelin don’t need anyone’s help to be discovered.  Sometimes a gaggle of artists will come together to compile their distinct takes on tracks by the original – as actually happened a few years back on a tribute to Physical Graffiti put together by Mojo magazine, and quite good it was too.  Obviously that’s not happening here though, as it’s just Beth Hart and a core band, with no sprinklings of guests.  Or an artist could take the opportunity to reinterpret the work of their inspiration – if Beth Hart were to re-do Zep with a piano-led, stripped-back approach for example.  But that ain’t this album.  This is a collection of Zeppelin songs that remain the same, pretty much, without many detours or deviations.
Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not saying that A Tribute To Led Zeppelin is a “bad” album.  Beth Hart is too good a singer, and her supporting cast are too switched on, for that to happen.  In fact Hart often succeeds in channelling Robert Plant’s tones to an uncanny degree.  Witness the way she replicates Plant’s slipping and sliding phrasing on the brightly funky ‘The Crunge’, for example – though wisely she goes for a less anglicised conclusion about the “confounded bridge”.  And if Hart doesn’t depart much from the original template, the same is often true of the guitar work by producer Cavallo and Tim Pierce, very much following Jimmy Page’s lead in the post-bridge solo of ‘Whole Lotta Love’, and also in the solos on ‘Black Dog’ and ‘Good Times Bad Times’ to pick just three examples.  Oh yeah, and drummers Dorian Crozier and Matt Laug pay thorough homage to those signature Bonzo drum patterns, not least when ‘Stairway To Heaven’ takes flight.  That’s a critical step, I reckon, in terms of whether you opt to follow in the path of the originals, or go in search of a different road.
But if the overall vibe is essentially “Zeppelin Redux”, there is one significant point of difference, namely the excellent orchestral arrangements by David Campbell.  These are utilised across the piece, adding fresh textures and hues to good effect.  A notable example is the use of strings on the spooky segment of ‘Whole Lotta Love’, which becomes less electronic and more organic.  But strings aren’t the end of it.  Horns swell to herald the guitar solo on ‘Stairway’, and they pop up discreetly on ‘Rain Song’ too, blending with strings and piano in a beautiful arrangement that lives up to the classic original without gilding the lily.
There are a couple of so-called medleys in the form of ‘Dancing Days’ paired with ‘When The Levee Breaks’, and ‘No Quarter’ being partnered by ‘Babe I’m Gonna Leave You’, though neither instance surfaces any illuminating connection.  In the first case, in particular, ‘Dancing Days’ doesn’t so much segue into ‘. . . Levee’ as abruptly collide with it.  But ‘No Quarter’ piques the interest with John Paul Jones’ synthesizer piano part transposed to guitar, and Hart offering a less murky, creepy vocal than Plant's original.
Full marks to producer Rob Cavallo and engineer Doug McKean for the excellent sound throughout, typified by the clarity of ‘Kashmir’, filled out by the orchestra with some additional embellishments and depth, and with a top drawer vocal from Hart that underlines her capacity to handle this stuff.
I’m still left with that question though – what purpose does A Tribute To Led Zeppelin serve?  I dare say there’s a Venn diagram where ardent Beth Hart admirers and Zeppelin fanatics intersect, and they may salivate over it.  But while I enjoyed it well enough, it doesn’t offer enough fresh insights to make it a must-listen for the future.  That though, is perhaps nobody’s problem but mine.
 
A Tribute To Led Zeppelin is released by Provogue Records/Mascot Label Group on 25 February, and can be ordered here.

Beth Hart - War In My Mind

Okay Beth, you got me. I surrender.  Ain’t no denying that War In My Mind is a winner.

Y’see, since I’ve been doing this malarkey over the last few years, I’ve largely resisted Beth Hart's charms. Never been entirely convinced. Oh, there’s been some stuff I’ve liked, particularly on Fire On The Floor.  But I’ve found the persistent banging on about her personal demons tiresome at times. And more significantly, I’ve often found her vocal style irritating – too much of that vibrato, and letting her power reach foghorn proportions.  Though I daresay that at times her singing hasn’t actually gone down either of those roads, but I’ve still been bracing myself for one or the other to kick in.

"You talking' to me?  Well, there ain't nobody else here."

Well, maybe Beth has learned to control these tendencies better, or maybe I’ve just become more attuned to her style.  Either way, there’s no war going on in my mind – this album is the best thing I’ve heard from her yet.

And it’s a singular affair too, because while a few tracks offer shifts in tone, the album leans primarily on Hart’s piano and vocals, delivering ballads of various hues.  ‘War In My Mind’ itself, the second track in, is not only typical, it may be the best thing here – though it does have some competition.  It rests on the kind of classical piano motif you might find Muse deploying, but gives their pomp and circumstance a body swerve in favour of something dark and reflective – but not negative – played out via an excellent melody delivered with gripping dynamics.

And if that’s top dollar stuff, so is the closing ‘I Need A Hero’, on which a rippling piano line ebbs and flows, mirrored by the vocal melody, and if it’s a bit Steinman-esque then it’s more in the vein of ‘I Would Do Anything For You’ than ‘Holding Out For A Hero’, but self-effacing and personal rather than theatrical, and with a striking ending.

Meanwhile ‘Sister Dear’ is tender and dreamy, underpinning Hart’s vocal - and also some great melodic moments - with little more than a rolling piano line and cello. ‘Let It Grow’ is indeed a song that swells assertively before a dying ending, with some typically impressive backing vocal arrangements along the way as Hart sings about being “Just a penny in the stream, working on a dream”.

If all this sounds very deep, the album is set on its way by the funky R’n’B and stop-time riff of ‘Bad Woman Blues’, with its big, glossy sound featuring some real heavy bass and piano chords echoing Toto’s ‘Hold The Line’, and Hart declaring that “Got the lips, Got the legs, I was born to drive a man insane” like a veritable fatal attraction.  ‘Spanish Lullabies’ brings further variety with a controlled Latin vibe over a salsified rhythm, and a Hispanic-style classical guitar solo, and ‘Sugar Shack’ makes use of a throbbing motorik synth and stomping beat in pursuit of some dance floor action.

But there’s also a haunted European vibe at work at times, as on ‘Rub Me For Luck’ (really, Beth?), which edges out of the shadows like Radiohead without electric instrumentation, with Hart singing about “waves of ee-mo-shunn” before surging into a Bond-theme chorus courtesy of a soaring melody and dramatic piano riff.  ‘Woman Down’ is one of the less remarkable outings in evidence, but Hart still manages to make like Edith Piaf as she delivers the bitter lyric.

Who knows, maybe credit is due to producer Rob Cavallo for bringing out the best in Beth Hart on this record.  But however all the pieces have fallen into place, War In My Mind is a collection of fine songs from a highly individual artist, that justifies her reputation as something special. To quote ‘Bad Woman Blues’, Beth Hart just stuck the cherry on the chocolate cake.

War In my Mind is released by Provogue Records on 27 September.

Beth Hart is touring Europe in November/December, and Britain and Ireland in January/February.  Check tour dates here.

Beth Hart and Joe Bonamassa - Black Coffee

I had high hopes for this album, I really did.  The notion that Beth Hart and Joe Bonamassa were reprising a collection of “soul gems” sounded promising – a chance for Bonamassa to lay back and swing a bit after the Stürm und Drang of the latest Black Country Communion affair, allied to the light touch and reined in vibrato Hart showed on her last album Fire On The Floor.

Unfortunately Black Coffee doesn’t deliver on those expectations.  Or perhaps I should say it doesn’t match my conception of what they were intending.  Not that it’s a bad album, though it’s not a great one either.  But it draws on a wider range of styles than soul – sometimes to good effect, sometimes less so.

The highlights actually lie in jazz-inflected songs like ‘Lullabye Of The Leaves’ and ‘Why Don’t You Do It Right’.  The latter is a smoky ballad, originally recorded by Ella Fitzgerald,

He's behind you, Beth!

and Hart does a good job of evoking that mood, aided by some rippling piano from the inevitable Reese Wynans and a subtle solo from Bonamassa.  The latter, a Kansas Joe McCoy song tackled by Peggy Lee back in the Forties, is finger-snapping jazz, with slinky, swinging horns and rinky-dink piano from Wynans, with both Hart and Bonamassa catching the easy-going mood.

The closing couple of tracks may be less in jazz mode, but carry a similarly coherent vibe.  ‘Soul On Fire’ is a bit of a torch song, with Hart keeping her vibrato on a leash and JoBo exercising similar restraint, although he can’t resist firing off a few clusters of unnecessary notes.  The same is true of his brief but steely solo on ‘Addicted’, a laid back, almost reggae like shuffle on which Hart essays a suitably dreamy vocal.

None of the above are raves, but at least they develop a coherent mood.  Etta James’ ‘Damn Your Eyes’ has a different, tense feel to it, with Hart getting soulful to the strains of a strong riff, backed up by piano chords and organ swells from Wynans, stabs of horn punctuation, and an effective, urgent solo from Bonamassa.

Those are the highlights though, other songs hanging off them in an unfocussed fashion.  The opener, Edwin Starr’s ‘Give It Everything You Got’ has soul food ingredients in the form of the horns, backing vox, and handclaps, and the guitar interplay with (I think) Michael Rhodes’ bass is pleasing.  But JB’s warped wah-wah intro and even heavier solo just sound incongruous.  Meanwhile the title track, from the Ike and Tina Turner catalogue, is essentially a low key arrangement over which Hart gets her wail on – and this is purely a matter of personal preference, but that quavering vibrato she is wont to adopt does precisely zip for me.

‘Saved’ is high tempo, honking pseudo-gospel that isn’t as funny as it thinks, though Anton Fig’s train-track drum pattern is appealing.  And ‘Sitting On Top Of The World’ is simply redundant – give me Howlin’ Wolf any time, or even Frank Frost and Sam Carr.

Some pleasing moments then, and the musicianship is of course top notch, but ultimately the whole is less than the sum of its parts.  All things considered, Black Coffee isn’t so much a rich, dark soulful brew as a half-and-half.

Black Coffee is released by Provogue Records on 26 January.

Beth Hart - Fire On The Floor

So how do you like your Beth Hart? Angsty chanteuse offering tales of life's trials? Or perhaps the gutsy belter of choice to heavyweight guitar honchos? On Fire On The Floor you'll find a healthy portion of the former, but rather less of the latter. What you'll also get, on the opening tracks here, is Hart as princess of sweet soul music - and it suits her.

'Jazz Man' lives up to its title with some piano-tinkling, horn-tooting, scat-singing grooves.

Beth Hart demonstrates jazzy soul leaning

'Love Gangster' has an easy Latin rhythm and drawling vocals, and a naggingly familiar, twanging guitar line in the background – feel free to comment if you recognise it! But it's 'Coca Cola' and 'Let's Get Together' that really catch the ear. The former, with its blissfully languid opening, is a sexy, summery song of youthful innocence, in contrast to the songs of strained experience that are often Hart's stock in trade. The latter, meanwhile, shows that Amy Winehouse wasn't unique in being able to expertly execute funky soul-lite with a Dap Kings vibe.

A bonus of this soulful style is that Hart tends to smooth out her trademark vibrato, which often serves her well but begins to grate if she sticks to it relentlessly. But if you’re a fan of her quavering, confessional side then there are several examples to savour here.

Top of the list is the ineffably sad ‘Woman You’ve Been Dreaming Of’, with spare piano chords, bowed bass and brushed drums underpinning images of a woman losing her husband.  Hart conveys the mundanity of the woman’s everyday chores with shades of Paula Cole’s ‘Where Have All The Cowboys Gone’, but adds a twist of infidelity to complete the cruel picture.

‘Good Day To Cry’ is a torch song with strong echoes of Lorraine Ellison’s ‘Stay With Me’, with Hart’s vibrato recalling what was so good about Elkie Brooks at her best.  The title track finds her conjuring up hints of Billie Holliday and Nina Simone, depicting the ennui of a stale relationship, shot through with flashes of bitterness.  Closing the album, ‘There’s No Place Like Home’ is piano-led, simple, and evocative, outlining the things that give us security in life.

The punchy ‘Fat Man’ provides some variety, with its stabbing vocal phrases in the verses and a driving chorus.  ‘Baby Shot Me Down’ executes a crisp change of gear too, with a shuffling, twitchy beat and bluesy piano, and a familiar sounding, descending chorus.

Fire On The Floor underlines Beth Hart’s versatility as a writer and interpreter, conjuring up images and feelings across a range of styles and moods.  The jazzy soul leanings are a delightful surprise, and when she nails a ballad she really nails it.  She may get tagged as a blues singer, but there’s a whole lot more to her work than that.

Fire On The Floor is released in Europe by Mascot/Provogue on 14 October 2016