It’s time for the third Danberrys (Dorothy Daniel and Ben DeBerry) album, “Shine”. The Nashville duo has taken four years over this piece and it’s a marked departure from their more acoustic Americana sound. Just a quick look at the album credits tells you, in addition to the usual guitar, mandolin and even pump organ, there’s another palette of sounds created by the addition of trombone, tuba, vibes, drums and percussion, the last three contributed by co-producer Marco Giovino. The innovative way percussion is used throughout the album is a clear indication of the involvement of drummer on the production team. The instrument tally on the album is impressive, but they’re used sparingly in a minimal and stark production. And let’s not forget the superb vocals, harmonies and counterpoint.

The album’s opener “Shine” sets the tone, building from a sparse primal rhythm to a brooding, supernatural mantra. The message is that we have to continue to shine a light to penetrate the darkness that surrounds us. There’s a melancholy thread that runs through the album although the message is ultimately one of hope; from “Shine” and the simple, folky “Love Conquers War” which references the protest movement and hammers the message home with the final line, ‘We shall overcome’, and the uplifting exhortation to self-belief of the Bo-Diddley-inflected “The Mountain”. The variety of the arrangements means that there aren’t too many reference points, although “Undertow” does hint at Fleetwood Mac.

The lyrics are interesting; they’re very subtle and they’re more about pointing you in a certain direction and allowing you to make your own interpretation. Although there are repeated references to darkness and dying, the album ultimately feels like a positive experience.

“Shine” is a compelling and haunting set of songs with innovative arrangements which holds your attention throughout with its stark intensity.

And here’s a bit of trivia for you. The person playing guitar, trombone and tuba is Neal Pawley, trombone player with Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes and Southside’s Americana project, The Poor Fools.

“Shine” is released in the UK on Friday May 8th on Singular Records.

 

 

So, meanwhile, I’m still thinking…..I’d spent a chunk of the last week reporting on the Leek Blues and Americana Festival and with the book coming out and everything, I was feeling a bit knackered so a bit of a break in Norfolk seemed just the very thing before covering Creedence Clearwater Revival’s original main man John Fogerty and The Steve Miller Band amongst others for MusicRiot.

The North Norfolk coast is a very quiet part of the country, though, and something interesting on a Saturday night isn’t normally part of the masterplan and to be honest, I really wasn’t looking for anything which would lead me to flex the writing muscles.

All I want is Easy Action, Baby.

So when we discovered T. Rextasy was playing, literally, an ‘end of the pier’ show in Cromer Pier Theatre that very evening, we couldn’t resist very late seats in what was an ostensibly sold-out house.

However.

It is the best part of twenty years since I interviewed main man Danielz on Newark FM, when he was playing the festival in front of the splendid castle there; how has he managed to carry the live legacy of Bolan through to Now?

Because way, way back then, he was already regarded as having transcended the medium of ‘tribute’ acts. And since then, there has been a positive tsunami of these, some of which play your local pub on ‘band’ night on a wet Wednesday on the strength of the front man bearing a slight resemblance to whoever of whatever, some of whom work at it, get professional representation and marketing behind them, and find themselves treading the boards alongside the Last Men and Women Standing in provincial theatres or as part of ‘jukebox musicals’; the ‘whoever’ story, insert name here. In some cases the ‘originals’ are still alive, and in some cases still turn out for the occasional tour, which makes it all a question of scale, affordability and access. Very strange.

No such problems with Marc Bolan’s legacy. It was all over for the poor bloke by the end of 1977; and he’d been drifting, well off the pace, for a number of years before that. He’d been ‘rumbled’ by then, the ‘cosmic boogie’ card had been heavily played, and he was busily trying to find a way forward in the face of punk, the stellar progress of his old mate Bowie, and the debilitating effects of long-term enthusiasm for the Peruvian Marching Powder.

And during his life, he really didn’t ‘tour’ extensively. After the rash of festivals played with the folksy, Tolkienesque Tyrannosaurus Rex, many of his ‘live’ performances were glammed-up set pieces on Top Of The Pops and the such like. So, it isn’t ridiculous to suggest he really didn’t understand, appreciate or value the power of his songs as live show-stoppers.

Danielz, however, in the years between when I interviewed him for radio (and he’d already been doing this for a while before then) and now, has had more than twice as long as Bolan had to ‘grow into’ the T. Rex repertoire. So, it isn’t ridiculous or sacrilegious to suggest that Danielz probably has a greater understanding of how the songs work in a live setting than Marc Bolan ever had.

And it shows. The luxury of time passing also gives him the opportunity to take risks with the songbook as well, as a younger generation of fans along with the ‘old guard’ don’t necessarily know the difference between some of the minor hits and the ‘B’ sides, hence kicking off the set with “Raw Ramp”, an early 70’s B-side. There’s brave, but the band attacks it with plenty of zip and It Works. Indeed, the whole band are a crisp, disciplined and well-drilled unit, which shows all the hallmarks of hard gigging and professional musicianship, which sadly wasn’t a charge which could be laid at Bolan’s door throughout his career. The biggies are saved largely for the second set, and the middle section of the ‘first half’ is given over to a very enjoyable acoustic section which draws in some Bolan rarities; which makes the decision to do an electric boogie-woogie version of ‘Deborah’ seem a slightly strange one.

The first part of the evening’s entertainment is concluded on a high with a spirited dash through “Jeepster” – one of Bolan’s recordings for Fly Records which are generally regarded as his best; and hearing it live again throws all sorts of light onto it as a song; and for all the world the bones of it seem to have country roots. The bass line which underpins it could easily have been part of a ‘Western Swing’ tune from the late 40’s and early 50’s. Bolan gave us plenty of clues to this – and in the live context presented so expertly and affectionately by T. Rextasy, these become clearer and more visible/audible. In “Telegram Sam”, for example he’s a Howlin’ Wolf at the end, and indeed he is. And a cosmic Bo Diddley, John Lee Hooker, insert name here. We Love To Boogie.

I can’t help feeling it was rather sad, watching Bolan, as I did, slowly lose his grip on the cutting edge, whilst desperately trying to hang on to it, seemingly only ending up with badly injured fingers. He desperately and at times embarrassingly tried to embrace punk and the songs from this period show someone who was trying to tap into the energy but had seriously lost his way; which is more the pity given he had already written and recorded a proto-punk anthem in “Solid Gold – Easy Action”, which Danielz and Co thrash through at the speed and urgency it calls for in order for  it to work

Predictably and entirely reasonably towards the end of the band’s set, three big shots in “Ride A White Swan”, “Get It On” and for the encore, “Hot Love” and indeed why not? However it is in these more than any other we see the slight ‘morphing’ of these tunes into the live crowd-pleasers they always potentially could have been; for me, the slightly ‘dirty’ guitar sound doesn’t help the first of these as the bright, spangly guitar on it is what makes it stand out; but a rockier and more ‘stadium’ “Get It On” really helps it to live in a more ‘real’ context than a slightly ‘cut and stick’ studio confection; and “Hot Love” gives a whole load of opportunities for a joyful audience singalong which becomes the celebration of a classic body of work it should be. All interspersed with affectionate, cheeky asides to the audience between songs, some of which showing the ‘beyond the call of duty’ respect Danielz enjoyed from members of Bolan’s family and indeed the larger musical family to which we all claim a degree of patronage. If he is to be believed (and having spoken to him I see no reason why he shouldn’t be) in the final years of his life, the only musos of the period Joey Ramone would call were Tony Visconti, Suzi Quatro, Noddy Holder and Danielz. Well, that kind of tells you something in terms of what Danielz has achieved here. What is also interesting for me is to watch Danielz so many years after first clocking his act all those years ago; he really has matured as a performer. He knows how to ‘work’ a crowd alright. Most of the members of the audience were out of their seats for more than half the set and with an audience largely of mature years, that, in itself, is not easy. And meanwhile, I’m still thinking; I wonder if Bolan would have managed the same given the same longevity? Because one thing you can say with absolute certainty is Danielz is a grafter; this act needs work; it needs to be rehearsed, over and over and over, especially in order to develop the flexibility of ‘oh, ok, we’ll play this now’, which the band does seemingly effortlessly. Which takes a lot of effort. Would Bolan have put this level of effort into ‘being’ Bolan? Conjecture.

So, have I ‘lost the plot’ reviewing a tribute act? Or has Danielz, along with the rest of T. Rextasy, escaped from ‘Tributeland’ and become part entertainer, part curator, part terrestrial interpreter for a mercurial talent who won the battle to reap the initial rewards – he drove a Rolls Royce ‘cos it was good for his voice – but wasn’t around long enough to win the war; respect, enormous back catalogue sales and becoming a live draw of preposterous proportions. Would any of this have happened or would he have been playing the equivalent of the end of the pier show?

I suspect the former rather than the latter. But in order to make an informed decision about that, I would strongly advise an evening or a bit a festy in the company of T. Rextasy. And I’m unlikely to say that about Fake Prat or whoever, so don’t get used to it. And meanwhile, I’m still thinking….

Mad Larry ScrollerThere’s nothing quite like it is there? I mean, music. Sometimes it just creeps up on you and whacks you over the noddle when you’re least expecting it.

The game plan as I wander through England picking out the odd gig here and there was to catch Henry Cluney, of Stiff Little Fingers fame, who was due to play The Wheatsheaf, a pub in central Oxford, on the particular Sunday afternoon in question.

And I got there late and missed him. However, this being a sort of package bill straggling across Sunday afternoon into the evening promoted by local hotshots GiddyUp Music, I thought I’d swing by and at the very least grab a beer and an earful, the way you do.

Walk through the door of the authentically cramped and sticky-floored Wheatsheaf and suddenly you’re in pubrock heaven, circa 1975. Mad Larry and his band are on stage – well, more accurately just to the left of the bar – and are blasting through an incendiary “Drinkin’ Man’s Blues” which gives way to a cheeky and well-played reggae tune which I must confess I didn’t recognise and then an absolutely storming version of “You Keep A Knockin’” which would have shamed many of the pantheon of greats who have had a tilt at this one. We then get some self-penned ditties, liberally laced with tales of beer, drugs, naughtiness and more naughtiness, stirred in between a Bo Diddley, a BB King and all played with Feelgoodian pace and attack culminating in Mad’s album title track “Dirty Work” before a wham-bam encore featuring some exceedingly tasty guitar work by Dan Collis – who’s full-on ‘yer ‘aving it’ approach reminded me more than a bit of the late, great Gypie Mayo – and honking harmonica of the greasy, sleazy variety from Kevin Busby. Blooming great engine room as well; take a bow Ron Wyatt and Anthony Christmas on bass and drums respectively.

Despite this being the last set of a long afternoon, the pub was rammed with punters all grinning that silly grin you do when the beer and the live music combine most agreeably. And for the life of me, I couldn’t think of an occasion which more accurately summoned up the spirit of the pub rock RnB gigs of the mid seventies when, if you lived in the right bit of the country, you could stumble through the door you could hear music leaking from and catch The Kursaal Flyers, The Motors, The Feelgoods, Lew Lewis, Kilburn and the High Roads, and insert name here. The only thing missing was the nicotine and I don’t smoke. And I have to say that’s how I like my nostalgia; not in pre-packaged compilation form, but about a yard away from you, at ear-whistling volume, with some own recent tunes flung in for good measure (Mad’s album was released in 2014) and played with enthusiasm and conviction.

I implore all right-thinking people in Oxfordshire and thereabouts to beat a path to The Wheatsheaf whenever GiddyUp promote one of these jollies and indeed specifically to go see Mad Larry’s Band either here or when out and about elsewhere (they have been a regular guests of The Pretty Things just recently, which is no mean accolade).

Bit of a disappointment he didn’t do “Zoom” though. Or is that Fat Larry? And did he just lose weight or go mad as well?