When: 16/11/14
Bit of a trek down to warwick these days, so was well pleased when SteveT offered me a lift, more so when I was able to get a ticket. With only 2 UK shows in his current bijou tour, that surprised me in itself. I used to go to WAC quite a bit when I lived in Solihull, but I was unprepared for the massive growth of the university campus. And the Arts Centre seemed roughly thrice it's old size, albeit minus the cute little shop. An interesting cloudy ale from Coventry watered the chaps as we awaited the show, Byatts, cloudy due to the inexpertly decanted yeast from the bottle, but a cutting hoppy bitterness hit the spot admirably.
I had seen Dr John just the once before, perhaps a decade ago, in New York, wondering if he could scale again the heights of that particular gig. The near-emptiness of the somewhat sterile hall, think school gymnasium, wasn't promising, even if the noisy anticipation of an ageing hipster crowd was. 8pm prompt and the band marched on, ramshackedly, coralled into their places by a behatted woman who seemed to be mastering (mistressing?) the ceremony. It looked like his regular band, elderly black dudes on bass, drums and keys, and, I'm sure, the same guitarist as he had had last time. The M/C then started rousing the audience: "Who needs a Dr? Who needs a Dr?" The temptation would be to answer Mac Rebennack himself, as he now needs 2 sticks to totter out from the wings, immaculate in his suit and decorated fedora, grey dreaded ponytail hanging halfway down his back. Dr John is 74, and I was worried this was a sign of his possible decay. I need not have worried, as, once perched on his stool, his fingers displayed a mighty much more than mere full working order.
Again it was over to our M/C to kick things off, counting the ensemble down into life, waving her hands about, and suddenly brandishing a trombone. This was apparently Sarah Morrow, the "musical director" of his recent tribute, Ske-dat-de-dat, Spirit of Satch to fellow New Orleans legend, Louis Armstrong. You might think that the good Dr, with his career of bandleading and record production would have no such need, but I have to say she has, literally, blown new life into proceedings. And soon showed herself to be a shite-hot player as well, no mean feat in a cast of such champions.
The set list was a mainly of well-established standards, his own, and of the classic N'Awlins repertoire, with a nod or three to the latest aforementioned record. Iko Iko kicked us off, with the band locking into a watertight groove, which continued across the setlist. Particularly heartfelt was a version of Motherless Child, with a stunning and soaring hammond solo from, I think, Jon Cleary, who excelled throughout. Not so keen on What a Wondeful World, as I can't get a gurning Satchmo out of my head, but it was a stout re-interpretation, funkier than on the LP. At one stage Dr John staggered to his feet and had a guitar strapped on, remembering it was, unbelievably, his primary instrument. Maintaining a jaggedy style, with shards of notes slipping between his fingers, this was a side of him I hadn't seen before, even if the fear of a fall remained distinct. Warming to the appreciation of the compact crowd, he had begun to smile and seemed to stretch out a bit, as he sat back in front of his steinway, turning for occasional forays onto an electric keyboard. Going Back to New Orleans, was a delight, as were Right Place, Wrong Time, and the promised 90 minutes and offstage were looking under pressure. (Very) extended solos came towards the end, almost stand alone slots rather than segued into their parent song, and aren't usually a personal pleasure. Tonight, though, Matthew, I was convinced, with the lithe bass runs of the portly bassist and another tour de force from the hammond organ, incorporationg, ye Gods, O When the Saints, being positively celebratory. Then there was just time for Such a Night, cementing the fact it was. No encores, but a good half hour more than expected, giving me the feel he had encored before the end. Happy, happy and home.
This man is a legend. Catch him while you can.
(Apols for lifting the pictures......)
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