My Heart Beats Like A (Lille)Hammer
Davey Bananas
Nov. 1, 2005
A blistering guitar duel is taking place. Tony Bowles’ and his black Fender pitted against an unidentified axe being played ‘lap slide’. As the licks rip thick and fast, Jimmy Reed’s “You Got Me Running” is in danger of setting off the house sprinkler system. For my money the slide just edges it, but that’s only because in my twisted mind the sound of an expertly played bottleneck is THE SOUND OF SEX!
And the Webb Wilder band isn’t due on stage for another thirty minutes!
No siree, that was Tony deputising for Paul Cotton on a couple of numbers for Poco. Rusty Young’s slide playing was superb on this and a couple of other numbers in the set. The man sounded gooooood!
Someone else will have to comment further on the Poco set, ‘cos I didn’t catch all of it. The rigours of an early flight meant that I needed to grab some kip (sleep) if I was to be in good shape for The Main Act. What I did see of Poco though was excellent, and had this been a Battle Of The Bands then Ol’ Rusty might just have been throwing down the gauntlet…
The hall was a large conference room with a nice sized stage. The ‘front of house’ sound was excellent – top notch in fact. A bass player from one of the other bands told me that the sound on stage was good too. The musicians didn’t seem to be competing with each other volume wise, or repeatedly asking for things to be turned up or down – always a good sign.
On the other hand, the lighting rig wouldn’t have had Dave Gilmour and the Pink Floyd boys wringin’ their hands and gnashin’ their teeth in envy…..It was your typical ‘club gig’ lighting, no more, no less.
The place wasn’t packed -, two or three hundred people maybe? Just a nice posse of amiable Vikings, a number of ‘em dressed as cowboys. Yee Haw!
After each band there was an interval of half an hour, and to my surprise and delight after Poco finished their encore, the crowd just dispersed. All I had to do was walk straight to the front of the stage! Like Moses parting the Red Sea….
As I waited, a couple of niggling doubts crept in. Would the band be able to recreate that retro-yet-contemporary groove that to me is their signature? More worryingly, I had this crazy notion that the band might sound……well……lightweight. Don’t ask me why I had this irrational fear - ‘cos I can’t tell ya!
After more than a decade of waiting, I was beginning to unravel. The weight of expectation was telling……
There was a time in my naive youth when all it would take was a favourite artist walking on stage, reading from the telephone directory, belching, and then walking off, to send me bonkers. The ageing process, coupled with years of accumulated cynicism meant that more would be required from the boys from Nashville…..
The diminutive MC, Tina, stands centre stage, flanked by shadowy figures wielding guitars - one of ‘em is a big fellah with a hat. She begins motor mouthin’ in Norwegian, the words melt into a blur until the only decipherable words become….. “The Webb Wilder band!”.
Cue staccato guitars
“I saw an ad in the paper said to Hell with it all..”
“Yesssss!!!!” Goal !!!!!!!! Get in !!!!!!!!!! Like a nymphomaniac Brewery heiress beggin’ you to marry her………
In one fell swoop the thirteen year circle is completed.
Lightweight sound? Let’s just say that never, since Adam took an ill-advised bite out of a Granny Smith, has one bloke got it SO wrong!
The sound was awesome, and so it stayed. This was proof positive that them BRITISH Vox’s and them Yankee Fenders are indeed a Rock ‘n’ roll conduit to your heart and soul. Not once did I entertain the concept of makin’ notes, or set lists or anything, my only purpose was to be absorbed into the whole shebang. The very thought of scribbling away furiously whilst there was some serious fret meltin’ going on, was a no-brainer!
About four songs in, The Cat In The Hat dedicated ‘Hitting Where It Hurts’ to some audacious Limey, who’d pestered him on the Web Board. Have you ever had a threesome with a Brewery heiress and her twin sister???? I can heartily recommend it!
This smokin’ set had it all:- Fast un’s to make you boogie, instrumentals to make you do the Hank Marvin diamond walk, slow ‘uns to let you get your breath back, daft ‘uns to inflict a smile that stretched all the way ‘round to the back of yer head!!!
Although I enjoyed ‘em all, particular highlights included the aforementioned toons, plus ‘Had To Laugh’, ‘Poolside’, ‘Flat Out’, ‘Miss Missy’, ‘Baby Please Don’t Go’, and last but by no means least, the immaculate, ‘The Rest Will Take Care Of Itself’.
For me the only potential black cloud on the horizon was ‘Jimmy Reed Is The King Of Rock N Roll’. I don’t dig that number. However, on the night and in a live scenario, the song was cool – due in no small part to the moody atmospheric guitar of Mr T. Bowles, esq.
One of the signs of a good gig is when you’re unaware of the time, consequently it just flies by, and before I knew it Webb was dislocating his jaw like a Texan longhorn auctioneer on the ‘Big Joe Williams’ passage of ‘Baby Please Don’t Go’.
“Thankyou, goodnight”
Usually, at the end of a blindin’ gig I always get a tinge of loss that the whole thing is over, but hey, it was only Friday - THEY’RE ON AGAIN TOMORROW NIGHT!
In over thirty years of watching rock ‘n’ roll gigs I have never, ever, seen the same band more than once on the same tour, let alone two nights on the trot.
My reasoning for this is that the best gigs are lightning in a bottle. Something that can only be captured in one place at one time. The thought of seeing exactly the same set is one thing, but the thought of hearing exactly the same ‘between song banter’ dulls the lightning. The hard realisation that the spontaneity is rehearsed.
Webb’s banter is different, because the contradiction is that you WANT and EXPECT to hear The Credo, Who Is Webb Wilder?, etc. No, I’m referring more to the “You’ve been the best audience on this tour” shtick that a lot of bands insult your intelligence with.
No such problem with WW, and when he does his “Never quite bald” patter he manages to raise a smile by following it up with “Mmmmm, might have to change that one sometime….”
The whole running order of the Saturday set was different to that of the previous night. Moreover, a good fifty percent of the numbers were different too. As if that wasn’t enough, Webb produced a whole new series of moves from his voluminous trick bag.
A typical example of this was his minimalist ‘one finger’ mime during ‘One Taste Of The Bait’. Mere words can’t do it justice. Word has it that Marcel Marceau is quaking in some imaginary glass box as we speak….
Webb also ‘threw’ the occasional ‘W’ shape here and there for good measure…
Another ‘mile wide smile’ moment occurred when Webb introduced “a song called Mary Lou”. Now, I figure WW was just trying to be a smart arse and catch any Vegans out, ‘cos instead of it being the About Time ‘Mary Lou’ the band struck up with Ricky Nelson’s ‘Hello Mary Lou, Goodbye Heart’. It backfired. This created a sudden influx of Good ‘Ol Boy Vikings and their best gals onto the dance floor! Webb hastily had to backtrack, saying “No, no, this is another Mary Lou, a baaad Mary Lou” before changing to the About Time version. Fortunately the Good ‘Ol Boys didn’t desert the floor, and carried on Dosey Do’in’ their pardnurs! Sublime.
So, different songs, again all marvellous, things surely couldn’t get better could they?
Then The Be-Hatted One reaches up into the musical ether and pulls down a big fat slab of pure Blues - Otis Rush’s “You’ll Be Cryin”, I think it was. Unexpected. Undiluted. Uncompromising. Webb took the full lead solo on this baby, virtually squeezing the very life out of his sunburst Tele. Worth the ticket on it’s own!
As with the previous night, a black cloud threatened. Tonight it was the turn of ‘Streets Of Laredo’. Once again though, I was pleasantly surprised. The reason for this was the opportunity to hear WW singing to minimal accompaniment, which was a joy in itself.
‘Battle Of The Bands’ got an airing, and it was interesting to see TB play the swingy brass parts, which appear on the album, on his guitar. Cool. Beforehand I might have thought that they couldn’t pull this one off in a live situation – wrong again!
Both Tony and Webb put their pedals to good use, as and when required. In places, what sounded to me like a ‘Leslie Speaker’ effect brought a different ‘colour’ to the sound. Nice.
Over the two nights the occasional, almost unnoticeable, musical bollock was dropped. However, if you’re like me, then you enjoy that as part of the live music experience, and if you can’t handle that then stay at home, have a mug of cocoa, and listen to the album!
This is a band that plays with a smile on it’s face, and when you see a roadie having to retrieve one of Jimmy’s sticks from the other side of the stage, then you’ve ‘just got to laugh’. For my money Tom The Comet was the only dude not to drop a testicle, but as he was so busy shovelling coal in the engine room then it might have gone unnoticed…..
As Saturday drew to a close I realised that over the space of two days the band had played ALL the WW songs that I would have wished to have heard, and a few more to boot. I didn’t come away thinking “If only they’d have played that one”, which might have been the case on a ‘one night only’ gig. Wondrous.
Though I can’t help thinking I might not have got ‘Hittin’ Where It Hurts” if I hadn’t bugged Webb-O-La for it!!
The other great aspect of it being a ‘two nighter’ was that on Friday I could get down the front, sing my head off, and get ‘up close and personal’. On Saturday I was able to take a step backwards and concentrate on actually listening. Still ended up singing my head off though!
Would I change anything? Yes - only one thing, Tom C’s bass. Not his playing, ‘cos that is first class, no, I’m talkin’ about the actual axe itself. Y’see those Danelectro basses traumatise me:- they instantly evoke memories of the early ‘70’s when they were the ‘de rigueur’ amongst the Glam Rock fraternity, being played by bands like The Sweet, The Glitterband, etc. The image of grown men poncing around in sequins, makeup, rubber waders, and women’s underwear whilst they played these bloody things still haunts me! Personally, I like to see a battered old Telecaster, just like Keith Ferguson used to play. A MAN’S bass. The kinda bass that an abattoir worker could dispatch a bull with, if he’d misplaced his humane killer! Tom, if you ever read this - I’m only funnin’!
Webb Wilder claims to be ‘an electrifying artist’. A bold statement indeed. Based upon my two nights witnessing the Webb Wilder Band, I can’t ever see the Trades Descriptions people knocking on WW’s door!
Footnote #1 – Having re-read this, I note there are a few references to S.E.X. I hope that none of the lady Vegans are offended. Such comments are intended to be light hearted, and not to be sexist - I am not that kinda cat. However, I do firmly believe that Rock ‘n’ Roll is inexorably linked to the ‘S’ word. So it should be!
Footnote #2 – Sorta linked to #1. Halfway through the WW set on Friday, The Devil appeared in the room, and took on the form of a not unattractive blonde Scandinavian lady, who tried to tempt and corrupt ‘Ol Davey Bananas. This She-Devil moved in soooo close to me, even though there was plenty of space all around, and proceeded to cavort like a pole dancer in my direction. She started talkin’ to me in a husky Norwegian voice - couldn’t understand a bleedin’ word she was sayin’! She then extended a near full pint of beer towards me, and fluttered her long eyelashes. Temptation indeed, Brothers and Sisters – What was I to do?
Well, with lager costing nearly 7 quid a pint, I took glass, chugged the beer, gave her back the empty glass, politely said “thankyou”, before continuing to watch the band and resume singing my bonce off!
She got fed up and left!!
And I know that this story is true……I was that soldier……
Howay The Lads!