Resurrection

"Aufersteh'n, ja aufersteh'n wirst du,

mein Staub, nach kurzer Ruh'!"

- Friedrich Gottlieb Klopstock

Resurrection of the blog? Well, we are starting the new month with a post. Resurrection of wargaming? Perhaps, keep your fingers crossed. But mainly it's because I have been to see a performance of Mahler's Symphony No 2, (known as the Resurrection, although Gustav had a bit of a bee in his bonnet about the life everlasting and kept returning to the theme) and very fine it was. It was very loud too, there were eight percussionists; one can't complain about getting one's money's worth. 

The piece is about ninety minutes long, so I won't include a video. Instead here's Ashton, Gardner and Dyke:

Fun fact of the day - apart from that the band actually had four members - concerns the B side of the single in the US, which was entitled 'I'm Your Spiritual Breadman'. I know, but it was the sixties. In any event, it featured two guest guitarists: Sir Cedric Clayton and George O'Hara Smith, pseudonyms for Clapton and Harrison. Sadly, and despite that added firepower, it's not very good. 

Barbecue Bob and Laughing Charley

I have been to see Catfish Keith, a man who I know I have often mentioned here before. Suffice it to say that he was as good as ever. Let's hear him playing some Blind Willie Johnson:

Both Catfish Keith and Dave Speight, the support act, referenced Barbecue Bob Hicks and his brother Laughing Charley Lincoln, two somewhat more obscure contemporaries of Johnson (and, before anyone asks, I have no idea why they have different surnames). Barbecue Bob wrote 'Motherless Child', covered by Eric Clapton amongst others and not to be confused with 'Motherless Children' written by Johnson and of course also covered by Clapton. Here's the first:

Dave Speight, an accomplished country blues performer himself, was the support for The Stumble last weekend as well (pretty much identical songs and patter in fact). Preston's finest blues band are excellent live and definitely worth seeing should you get the chance:

The Stumble, like many blues bands (the Rolling Stones, Canned Heat, Dr Feelgood, Double Trouble etc. etc. etc.) take their name from someone else's song, in this case a Freddie King instrumental. Here's Peter Green playing with John Mayall's Bluesbreakers:

All Things Must Pass

Recent disruption of domestic infrastructure and routine has been at a level which rather reminds me of a few years ago when I didn't have anywhere to live at all, so nothing much constructive has been achieved. In fact the only vaguely hobby related thing that I can find to write about is that having had my shower entirely removed in an effort to track down the leak I am in danger of smelling like one of those wargames show attendees that we all know and don't love.

I did manage to get to the cinema - sitting well away from other patrons - to see the re-released 'Concert for George', which event I assume is related to the fact that he would have been seventy five this year. I'd never seen it before, thoroughly enjoyed it, and was rather taken aback to see Eric Clapton come across as warm and human for once. It was also poignant to see those themselves no longer with us such as Tom Petty, Billy Preston and Ravi Shankar, although I could probably have coped with less Monty Python.

Here's Uncle Ringo, as George's son endearingly described him:

Same Blues, Different Decade

"Do I want the Seventies to come back? No. The haircuts were terrible. Everyone stank. The food was awful." - Douglas Coupland

To which he could have added the clothes of course. But what about the music? I ask the question because I have been to see the Maas and Moody Band, who seem to share my views on the subject. Micky Moody (MM senior that is - MM junior is the drummer in the band and indeed in the clips below) was in Whitesnake and, before that, Juicy Lucy and so he was there. But while he might be a near contemporary of mine, Ali Maas is clearly somewhat younger; nevertheless her vocals fit right in. So, if you like female fronted, riff-driven, guitar-solo heavy, British blues rock of the sort that one might have seen at St Albans Civic Centre most Saturday nights forty years ago - and let's face it who doesn't - then look no further.

I'm not sure about the stand up bass though - I'm glad to say that had disappeared by the time that I saw them. Moody also told an amusing anecdote about playing at Batley Variety Club as part of Gene Pitney's band which involved Stan Boardman and some meat pies; you don't get that from Eric Clapton.

They finished with a cover of Dylan's 'Gotta Serve Somebody', and so shall we. This is by the marvellous Etta James:

Whenever You Need Me

I haven't written much about music recently, although I have continued to go to gigs; indeed I have just been to see the Devon Allman Band. Allman is the son of Gregg and nephew of Duane so I was hoping for some soul and blues influenced southern rock to take me back to my youth and distract me from... well distract me. I am pleased to say that's exactly what I got.

It was all good stuff, from his own material to covers of the Clapton song above (I know Clapton didn't write it), Tom Petty's "Mary Jane's Last Dance", the Detroit Spinners' "I'll Be Around" (they didn't write that either), and "No Woman, No Cry"; the last two quite definitely successful in temporarily returning me to the 1970s.

When they came back for the encore he caused confusion by promising two and a half songs. The extra bit turned out to be teasing, stop start intros to, among others, "Sweet Home Alabama", "Whole Lotta Love" and, perhaps inevitably "Jessica". I'm going to go with "Whipping Post" instead:

I Looked Away

Ready, willing and able

I can assure readers that they are not the only ones who wish that there was more wargaming on here (I exclude the big, bouncy woman from that; I don't think she bothers to read those posts). However, recently the only hobby activity undertaken has been a bit of desultory painting and the scheduling of a smoke barrage for Sidi Rezegh: the Prequel. I think I've put it in the right place, but all I've got to work with is an upside down map and a photo in which my own forces are in focus, but the opposition are not. I appreciate that Rommel - I rolled high and am the Germans - also operated with less than perfect information, but then again he knew what he was doing.

"Vy eez zis map ubside down?"

So instead let me write about Albert Lee, whom I have been to see. The last time I saw him he was in Bill Wyman's backing band and the time before that he was with Hogan's Heroes. Now he is fronting his own small but excellent group, which unexpectedly includes Genghis Khan's more affable twin brother on honky tonk piano and occasional accordion. Lee of course has been influenced more by the country music end of the rock and roll spectrum (he had a decades long musical association with the Everly Brothers) rather than the blues end (although he also played with Clapton). The songs played reflected that, being associated with performers such as Carl Perkins, Gram Parsons and Emmylou Harris. It's not news that he is a sensational guitarist, but what amazes me - admittedly as a non-musician myself - is that he does it all unaided. At a time when every wannabe playing in pub bands uses a variety of effects pedals, several guitars, capos, funny tunings etc., Lee makes it all happen on one instrument with only a plectrum and a tremolo arm; most impressive.

My evening was further enhanced by a member of the audience wearing brushed cotton loon pants such as used to be advertised in the back of the NME when I was an undergraduate. And some people call the seventies the decade that fashion forgot; how wrong were they?

Truth and roses

"Between men and women there is no friendship possible. There is passion, enmity, worship, love, but no friendship." - Oscar Wilde

What a wonderful night for a moondance

I have been to see Van Morrison, who was simply fantastic, as he was always going to be because he is, after all, Van Morrison. There was a very jazzy vibe to the evening, with the man himself looking like George Melly's less flamboyant younger brother. As with Leonard Cohen he sensibly surrounds himself with first rate musicians, although his bandleading style seems somewhat more like that of James Brown; I wouldn't like to cross him.

I must mention the opening act, the New York Brass Band who were great fun in the style of the Hot 8 Brass Band so beloved of Craig Charles. The rumour is that Sir Van agreed to their supporting him because he believed them to be from Harlem. In fact the name signifies that they are from York and haven't been going very long. Morrison was, let's be blunt, as miserable as sin. But the same behaviour that in Eric Clapton a couple of years ago came across as rudeness and contempt for his audience, somehow seemed just acceptable idiosyncrasy here. It was glorious concert and I'd happily put up with the great man's indifference in return for the sound of his voice every time.

We were treated to many highlights from a great career: Moondance, Brown Eyed Girl, Bright Side of the Road, Whenever God Shines His Light etc. It was all most excellent. Astral Weeks is without doubt my favourite album; a phrase and concept that really date me. Whilst mostly a mystical album - once again we are speaking of Van Morrison here - it is also in part about the Belfast of his childhood. But what really for me has always set Morrision in his time and place is the paramilitary drumming on his 1964 garage rock standard Gloria. If ever there was a song designed for long extended versions it is this one, and it got it here as the last number/encore.

I for one have played Gloria, very badly, in several garages. My favourite non-Morrison version is probably that by Eddie and the Hot Rods, which appeared on their Live at the Marquee EP along with 96 Tears, Satisfaction and Get Out Of Denver. I have a feeling that I might have posted this before, but what the hell - it's brilliant. Get those chairs out of here!

Don't ignore the reaper

I have been delinquent in paying my respects, so here is a catch up:

First, Hawkwind wherein Stacia redefines the word 'dancer':

Second, and needing no introduction:

Third, in admiration of Robert Stigwood's management techniques:

Fourth, Alan Rickman reads Dante to a much younger woman. If it's good enough for Colonel Brandon then it's good enough for me:

      

Bring it on home to me

I have been to see the excellent Lisa Mills in concert at the Caroline Street Social Club, which is a proper Phoenix Nights style working mens' club complete with bingo going on in the other bar. It proved however to be a very good venue (except for the lack of alcohol free beer) and was packed.

Ms Mills hails from Mississippi and currently lives in Mobile, Alabama so I'm not entirely sure what she made of Saltaire (indeed her website claims that it's in Wales), although as it's a World Heritage Site I hope that she found time to have a look round. Being typically keen to please as Americans always are, she told the audience that it was as hot and humid in Bradford as it was back home. In the interests of accuracy I must point out that it, er, wasn't.

Still, one doesn't come to see her for meteorological reports, one comes for the voice; and what a voice it is. She has toured with Big Brother and the Holding Company as guest lead vocalist and Janis Joplin is a reasonable starting point for describing the type of singer she is. Mills was happy to take on songs closely associated with artists such as Dusty Springfield, Aretha Franklin, Nina Simone and Sam Cooke and demonstrated the vocal chops to justify that. Her repertoire covered blues, gospel, soul and country and she was equally adept at them all. She has worked with people such as Andy Fairweather Low, who I last saw in Eric Clapton's band, and Albert Lee, who I last saw in Bill Wyman's band.

Anyway, don't believe me, judge for yourself. I chose the first song below, partly for the lyrics (listen carefully Crumb) and partly because the original idea for the song came from the CFO at the company owned by her brother. That's right, it's at the intersection of accountancy and the blues; a bit like your bloggist really.

The second song that I've chosen is a cover of Irma Thomas' "It's Raining", because, as we know, Ms Mills also dabbles in weather reports.

Soft kitty

The crusades game at James' finished yesterday in a draw. It was very enjoyable and very close; a well balanced scenario. So well balanced in fact that I suspect that neither side can ever actually win. Possibly the Saracens if they put two commands at the exit point and manage also to get their ambush in the right place. Peter as usual threw a multitude of ones and also spent much of the game handicapping himself by rolling incorrect defence dice. Considering the fact that he co-wrote the rules it's hard to have any sympathy.

Anyway, for the benefit of anyone who is either suffering from migraine or new to the songbook of Leon Russell, here is a little Delaney and Bonnie:

Ain't that mud in your eye

There seems to be a brief hiatus in the sequence of tours by bands whom I haven't seen play for forty years. I have therefore embarked on a brief diversion into watching acts whom I wished that I had seen forty years ago, but for some reason didn't. First up was Nils Lofgren, who on his last visit to Leeds played alongside Bruce Springsteen in front of twenty thousand people at the opening of the arena. On this occasion he had to make do with a capacity crowd of seven hundred and fifty at the City Varieties, but it didn't seem to affect his enthusiasm or energy.

It was an excellent gig, indeed an early contender for the hotly contested and prestigious 'Discourses on Wargaming' concert of the year title. Lofgren of course has not just been a member of the E-Street Band, but also of Crazy Horse and the highlight for me, being as you know somewhat of a pseud, was his explanation of how he had come up with the piano part on 'Southern Man' whilst playing on the sessions for 'After the Goldrush'. The speeding up of the piano during Neil Young's guitar solos apparently owes a debt to the accordion lessons that his parents made him take as a child in Chicago.

Lofgren is as good a guitarist as I have ever seen. Certainly he knocked spots off Clapton's concert last year (and was immensely more personable), and I'd put him up there with Catfish Keith; high praise indeed. He also played keyboards, a harp (I don't mean a harmonica, I mean a real harp) and tapdanced. Sadly a double hip replacement meant that the trampoline has been retired.

Song of the set - not yet a blog award, but I'm considering it - was final encore 'Shine Silently', but he naturally also performed favourites such as 'Keith Don't Go', 'I Came to Dance', etc.

The last song is also by way of a lead in to tomorrow's post.

Strange Brew

I have been to see Eric Clapton, and as seems to be increasingly the way of these things it was for the first time since the late seventies. Expectations were mixed because he had apparently stormed off stage mid-set in Glasgow the previous evening. Those reports must have been somewhat exaggerated though because as far as I could tell the set at Leeds Arena was identical. It was difficult to be sure though because 'God' was curiously disengaged throughout. He only spoke two words to the audience all night. "Paul Carrack" he said, after the latter had beautifully sung 'How Long'.

'Slowhand' is, of course, knocking on a bit now and so one must allow him a few eccentricities. In fact he didn't look terribly well and, from where I sat at least, appeared to be wearing a highly unconvincing syrup. But, and it's an important but, boy can he play guitar. I would have paid the money for the version of 'Crossroads' alone.

I went down to the crossroads,
Fell down on my knees.
I went down to the crossroads,
Fell down on my knees.
Asked the Lord above for mercy,
"Save me if you please."

But boy, could he play guitar

I went to see Albert Lee last night at the City Varieties. Lee came to rock and roll from the country side rather than the blues of most of his British contemporaries such as Clapton. His style is therefore rather different, but the things that he can do with a guitar are just incredible.

While he and the band - Hogan's Heroes; now there's a name to take one back - played a few more modern, self-penned numbers, the bulk of them were old, slightly obscure stuff from Buddy Holly, Everly Brothers, Ray Charles, Glen Campbell and even the Travelling Wilburys. It's not often that one sees a performer who shares his repertoire with Iggy Pop, Rod Stewart, Rockpile and, er, Cliff Richard.

The band were tight and provided a secure platform for Lee's virtuosity. The bass player managed to look like both Jimmy Carter and Lorne Greene at the same time, which was rather disconcerting.

"OK, Hoss, this is a blues riff in B, watch me for the changes..."

The last number of their set, before the encores anyway, was an extended version of Country Boy which seemed to contain a snatch of every well known riff from Smoke on the Water to Nutrocker. Most entertaining.