SUNDAY OCTOBER 28th 2001
Let's get this straight. I'm no jazz fan. I'm not particularly into blues. I don't like honky-tonk and Dr. "poifect" John's contribution to THAT Various Artists charity single makes me cringe. But when I was offered the opportunity to see the ol' ivory tickler himself at the Royal Festival Hall I couldn't resist a nosy.
And I'm glad I didn't. Dr. John may be an acquired taste, but he sure as hell knows how to rock a live venue even one as stiff-upper-lipped as the Royal Festival Hall.
Dr. John, whose real name is the far more suitably Blues-soaked Malcolm "Mac" Rebennack, has metamorphosed through the 40+ years of his career from psychedelic rocker to jingle composer, from cult, jazz traditionalist to award winning 'big band' stalwart on the world music stage. And although he's revered in his hometown of New Orleans - regarded as the city's unofficial ambassador - John has always remained on the left side of centre, only really known in the UK mainstream thanks to big fan Jools Holland and his spot on the Children In Need no1 "Perfect Day". It was clear, however, from the audible hubbub of the waiting crowd (a diverse bunch aged between 3 and 83), that Dr. John's UK following have more than a passing interest in his Deep-Southern antics.
Taking the stage at the very early time of 8:15pm, Dr. John is introduced by his excellent New Orleans backing band. The three band members large, flat-capped drummer, 70's-throwback funk guitarist and a bass player who could have been in Shalamar were all intensely talented musicians who also gave the stage an oddball character before the audience even caught their first glimpse of the famous walking stick.
Shuffling up to his piano with a move somewhere between a hobble and a freestyle jazz-groove, Dr. John sent the audience wild just by being there. The minute he sits down at his skull-adorned "Joanna" a few brave female members of the audience devour the drummer's invitation to get out of their seats and "get funky" by heading down to the stage and throwing a few freestyle shapes of their own.
The entertainment factor was constant throughout the whole hour and a half set. Standards such as "When The Saints Go Marchin' In" blended seamlessly with honky-tonk hip-shakers, while classics like "Such A Night" attracted increasing numbers of the audience (including ex-Hollyoaks "hunk" Sol obviously a massive fan) to shock the attendant stewards by heading to the stage for some serious struttin' action. I've never seen so many freakish dance moves in all my born days (a crazy blonde woman busting ballet moves on the balcony even grabbed the attention of the drummer and bassist, who couldn't help having a chuckle). Add to that Dr. John's gruff yet surprisingly flexible vocals, unfathomable piano expertise and illegible betwixt-song drawl (not to mention the very peculiar dance moves of his own which he displays as he switches from piano to organ) and you've got a night of peculiar, bewitching charm.
Described as "the blackest white man in the world" Dr. John sho' gits funky on our asses, and by the end of the evening the usually austere Festival Hall is alive with an authentic air of New Orleans voodoo magic. The entire audience obeyed the command to get on their feet something rarely seen at gigs these days. Dr. John truly brought Mardi Gras to town.
It was an early finish, pre-ten o'clock (good news in respect of last orders and the funk-jazz-blues explosion I'd witnessed certainly left me parched), but then anyone who's spent nigh on half a century putting so much soul and energy into their gigs is bound to need an early night now and then.
Having said that, the old Devil was probably down an old Soho blues bar, swigging gin and ticklin' some more ivory, before most of the audience had made it back to the foyer.
Rock on Doc.
Johanna Payton
johanna_payton@hotmail.com
GC(uk) Email Advanced Site Search
 |
| Let Spyonit.com notify you when this page changes! |