(Review by Steve T)
It's always nice to do at least one gig in Sage One, over the weekend,
to see those who maybe only do one show, but make the whole thing happen.
Otherwise you feel insular, like the only people there are the familiar faces
in the small rooms, at the concourse and the stands.
This was the other no-brainer, along with Miles Mosley, until number one
son introduced some brains suggesting we should be in Hall Two, and then Lance
(who tends to know what he's doing in these matters) confirmed he was in
Northern Rock. Sounds like a resounding finale for the Festival.
By Sunday evening, anybody still wondering whether they'd had a festival
was left in no doubt by the end of this; this was almost a festival on its own.
Lots to get through so Shabaka Hutchings was already
onstage when I got in, complete with his Ancestors.
Drums and percussion, rock solid and
relentless, as always in these groups, brilliant sax from both tenor and alto,
bass and a Hoodoo type Man, presumably Shabaka, dressed all in black, hat rim
casting a shadow over his face, prowling the stage preaching, hollering and
occasionally singing.
Short break before the Alfredo Rodriquez Trio took to
the stage, the bandleader hitting it running, leaving no doubt he's a world
class pianist. Afterwards I found myself stood with two Jambone/Early Birds
keyboardists and asked whether they were going home to practice or put their
instruments on ebay.
The bass player was more enigmatic, in a splendid frock, large earrings
and what looked (to someone of my age and background) like a type of hairnet.
It was only when he came out of the shadows he revealed a full beard; the kind
of look the media keep telling us wouldn't have been possible without Bowie. He
could play too, taking the lead part on occasion - Steve Howe like - with a
fixed, standalone member of the guitar family. As you'd expect, the drummer was
safe too. One of the stage hands made himself the second least popular person
in the building telling him to cut the set (or slit his throat). To the delight
of the audience, he ignored him and played one more anyway.
Last up was Richard Bona, or as he liked to say -
Michael Jackson, with his Mandekan Cubano. Another musician
who could have been a stand-up comic, he had the audience laughing in the
aisles. His singing was quite low-key until it required some passion when a
soulful quality emerged, but was at its best in the African style of Youssou N'Dour, Salif Keita or Papa Wemba, particularly when acapella.
The band, or as he called them, the Cubans - who know how to take breaks,
he told us, as they left the stage to take one - were hot, once again
rock-solid percussion, piano and just two horns, doubling up on backing vocals
Buena Vista Social Club style. His bass playing was restrained but with enough
hints he could really go when required.
By the end we were all up 'dancing' in the aisles, at our seats, where
we stood, bringing the whole thing to a glorious close. A triumph I
heard somebody say to Ros Rigby as we filed out, and who knows whether he meant
the gig, the night, the day or the festival, but I wasn't about to argue one
way or another.
Steve T.
2 comments :
Shabaka is, quite notably, a Saxophonist.
Actually, Shabaka is the tenor player.
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