We had been joking about drugging them and stealing all of their equipment. How we (didn't) laugh when they actually turned up with a mouthwatering selection of vintage amps, priceless vintage guitars and drums. Apart from the leads/cables, everything on stage was from the early 60's (including 3/5ths of the band), and cumulatively worth more than my home! A very likable bunch of chaps, and off stage they dress like the heaviest grease rockers you've ever seen. The start of the gig itself was odd, they just shambled on, had a minor row and, in passing, mentioned who they were! The most modest start to a set I've seen - given what was to follow. The black jacket and tie look suggests one of those bands who haunt the chicken-in-a-basket circuit with their faded glories...WRONG! What we actually got was (deep breath) Weapons-grade garage rock band, in love with Bo Diddley, who rocked harder than the others, but matured so much faster...Raw garage rock brit r'n'b boom beat thuggishness flowering into beautiful acid rock guitar solos....pounding rockers twisting and turning into psychedelics...bliss-outs located somewhere between San Fran royalty (think Quicksilver Messenger Service) and Sonic Youthness...Onstage grouchiness and good-natured cheap-shots flying...they can still sing so 3-part harmonies in those lovely songs or Phil roaring out the rockers...very muscular acoustic blues section with great slide playing...Harp - imagine an acid rock guitarist arting out on harmonica...The young guns in the rhythm section dropping into all sorts of rhythmic tricks and traps and syncopation, every time the bass player swung around to look at the drummer you knew something fresh was gonna appear in the engine room - great way of keeping an old act fresh without interfering with the original genius...some Electric Banana...oh, a Bass Amp with it's own gravitational pull...
Then, near the end of the main set (of course there were encores) Phil makes an aside, and you suddenly realise their ages, and that 3 men in their late 60's just played the best R'n'R gig you've ever seen.
Two abiding images afterwards. A member of the West End Centre crew, who shall remain anonymous Neil, being handed a holy grail Fender Strat and becoming rooted to the spot with awe...for ages ha ha. And a guy on crutches hurtling past me waving a poster for autographs and yelling, by way of explanation "I've loved them since 1964, where's the drummer, he's the only one I haven't got yet" as he clattered off into the distance.
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