Wishbone Ash and The Groundhogs, Phoenix, Exeter, 27th October, 2019

Guitar Duos and Difference

Enjoyed especially seeing the latest incarnation of The Groundhogs [having not before] with original member Ken Pustelnik on drums, and newbies Chris D’Avoine on vocal and guitar, Sol Latif on guitar and Latch Manghat on bass.

It’s not complicated: they play Groundhog music from the band’s heyday, loud and raw and vibrant, encoring on, no surprise here, Cherry Red. There were extended guitar jams between D’Avoine and Latif – the later more shredding and the former more psychedelic – and both were gloriously indulgent [I listened to two guys call it ‘guitar wank’ and wondered why the fuck they went to a Groundhog gig – I’d happily refer to it as guitar spunk, caring less for those indulging their umbrage at the puerile, like this guitar duo could care less for such haughty dismissal]. Pustelnik on drums was such a pulsing core, and Manghat added his own sustained thunder to the riffs and rhythms. Far out, as I shouted at one post-jam moment. 

[Listening to Hogwash album as I wrote the above. Wonderful]

I had to leave the gig early but saw Wishbone Ash play their first number The King Will Come, as polished as ever [that’s what 50 years of playing will do, even with new members] and while the guitar playing was a more refined rock – when compared with The Groundhogs – I wouldn’t knock it [I mean, why would you when it is so good] but just stress its difference.

Ginger Baker's Jazz Confusion - Phoenix, Exeter, 12th July, 2013

What Was That? That Was Jazz

At 73 years of age, Ginger Baker isn’t the double bass-drum oscillator he used to be, but the African beats he deployed throughout his jazz set at The Phoenix, Exeter, last night – aided and abetted with a compensatory gusto by Ghanian percussionist Abass Dodoo [who would have thought cymbals could at times make such a distinctive and glorious contribution?] – reflected a continued love of playing live as well as for that genre.

With further assistance from the wonderful saxophone tone of Pee Wee Ellis [having played for the James Brown Revue between 1965 to 1969, and contributing to no less than 13 albums with Van Morrison] and Alec Dankworth, perhaps the most outstanding soloist of the night on double and electric bass, it was an evening of highly enjoyable jazz penned by Baker himself and the likes of Wayne Shorter and Sonny Rollins, all underscored by the aura of getting to see one of the great rock musicians/drummers of all time.

As someone most recently in the press because of the new film documentary about him titled Beware Of Mr Baker - but more notoriously when he breaks filmmaker Jay Bulger’s nose with his cane - and also widely available video footage of a rather cantankerous recent interview session, the only indication of such bad behaviour last night was when someone in the audience shouted out either a request or a heartfelt accolade and Ginger pricked up with a mildly aggressive ‘What was that?’ and immediate threat to have ‘hecklers’ dealt with in some punitive way: all indicative of the fact that after years of thunderous drumming, Ginger Baker can’t hear what is being shouted at him. Overall, he actually seemed to be enjoying himself, proffering a mild giggle as Pee Wee slowly walked behind him having too slowly walked off the stage before the encore and thus being significantly behind the rest of the returned band – and with Ginger’s pace at 73 hardly [wait for it] gingerly, you can imagine how desultory Pee Wee was ambling.

It was that kind of night: an audience whose seniority reflected maturity, wisdom, bad backs and other ailments, hair-loss and a multitude of unrealised dreams of rock stardom and a life of debauchery that Ginger Baker has passed through with some undoubted pain but considerable if crotchety resilience to arrive at this plateau of jazzy reverence and relative calm.  For me it was a night of consistently enjoyable music by a great man I never got to see in his prime but feel I have now seen pursuing his great love of jazz music, having always, apparently, referred to himself as a jazz rather than rock drummer. Where many stars hit the tours churning out their familiar hits [and that's OK too] it was reassuring to see this notorious survivor of the sixties doing so engagingly in his seventies.

Glad-handed

Chris Smither - Phoenix, Exeter, 1st March, 2012

A short but appreciative post to comment on how memorable it was to see Chris Smither perform so many of his impressive, career-spanning songs last night. He played two sets and it was simple yet stunning: acoustic guitar, vocal and Chris' foot percussion - boots taped on a board beneath a microphone.

His distinctly finger-picked blues tell diverse, convincing stories. The emotions, witticisms and insights of the lyrics produce narratives that truly delight in this live context because there is the immediacy of performance bolstered by Chris' occasional backdrop paintings before he plays them.  It was especially pleasing to hear quite a few new numbers that will appear on his next album due for release in June. I'm lousy at remembering the song titles of these, so haven't. There was one slow, pure blues that I particularly look forward to hearing again..

Chris seemed to have a fine time despite the classic gentility of the English audience: static listening with brisk but enthusiastic applauding at the end of each song. It's not that it wasn't obvious he was appreciated, but it was such a polite and passive engagement. There were times I wanted to whoop and holler, but I restrained myself: the weight of demur behaviour like a heavy protocol. Perhaps I just chickened out. But I didn't sit still.

Such rebellion.

Chris commented on how much he enjoyed playing at such gigs and meeting with people to sign cds and glad-hand, as he put it. During the interval I got my Lost and Found cd as I mentioned in my previous post anticipating attending this performance, and there was Chris to sign and to shake hands. I spoke with him briefly, asking if he played his very early material and he said he didn't often as it was hard to remember. It doesn't seem much to go on, but he exuded sincere warmth and gentlemanly manners - certainly none of the more negative connotations in some definitions of 'glad-handing'!

And now for the punchline. As I said, whilst Chris was signing my cd I asked if he played his early material and he replied how he didn't. But there on my copy of his 2011 Live recordings cd - had I bothered to look - was 12th track Time To Go Home, my favourite song from I'm A Stranger Too, his 1970 album and the one I mentioned in my previous post.  Had I bothered to look, I could have asked......

Next time.