Paul McCartney – Maybe I’m Amazed

Stockholm, Tele 2 Arena 9 July 2015

This bloke Paul McCartney has got talent! An understatement of course, but such is Macca’s familiarity that it is perhaps easy to forget just how good he is. And the penultimate show of his latest two-year long tour showed off everything in his arsenal over a mostly brilliant two and half hour set.

I was actually a little hesitant about whether to go see Paul McCartney. In recent TV appearances his voice seemed too weak for his material. And I was concerned about the show being too much of an oldies goldies trip down memory lane. And at times it was.

But when debating whether to go see Macca, there was also the feeling that this man is the Mozart of the popular song era. Even if past his prime, he is one of the greats – I mean really up there with Elvis, Dylan and that other guy, what’s his name – Lennon. And as a friend pointed out to me – “He is a Beatle for fucks sake!” And any music fan really needs to see a Beatle live – at least once!

This was also a show of epic proportions worthy of the magnitude of the man. The vast airport hangar like Tele 2 Arena meant that even those seated near the front required binoculars to see much. But McCartney has clearly honed his arena performances since the days when the Beatles  could not be seen nor heard during their concerts.

Although at times, the light show and video screen content was pointless and a distraction from the music, at times it was innovative and exciting, particularly when lasers danced round the roof on Being for the Benefit of Mr Kite. And surprisingly, the sound was excellent, with the harmony vocals and piano flourishes so often lost to the gaping spaces of stadiums clearly audible.

McCartney can play too, darting around the stage from the front microphone stand to a grand piano mounted at the back and then back to the front with acoustic, bass or electric guitar. And then he played once or twice a psychedelic painted upright piano that appeared out of nowhere at the front of stage.

McCartney’s voice was also very much on song. Sounding tired just occasionally (he is 73), he sounded at times as good as ever, with his mighty rock voice screaming the “yeahs” very well, supported competently by the superb backing singing from his tight four piece band.

And what a band – supreme musicianship that mimicked to a T the famous guitar solos and string or brass arrangements (through synths) from all those classic songs, yet somehow never sounding like a copy or pastiche. Of course many of the great songs of yesteryear have had their first live performances by this band, which has been with McCartney in the same format since 2002 – a period longer in duration than the lifespan of the Beatles or Wings.

And then there are the songs. And while clearly comfortable in front of tens of thousands of people, speaking Swedish from notes plastered around the stage quite amusingly and proficiently and telling the odd interesting and funny anecdote, McCartney, for the most part, let the songs do the talking.

If anything, the 40 song set list was a little Beatle heavy – with 27 Beatles tracks performed from the very beginning of the Fab Four’s career through to the closing glory of the Abbey Road album – literally. This left little room for Wings material (just four songs) or some of Macca’s fine solo songs (just nine played – half of which were weaker new songs).

The opening Eight days a Week, incredibly like many of the songs in the set played live for the first time on this tour, was the first of many earlier Beatles songs whose classic rock n roll bare bones structure sounded a little weak in the enormous stadium.

Coming after the bizarre pre show entertainment of awful records of Beatles’ covers being broadcast, followed by half an hour of decent McCartney records being aired (but who airs their own songs before their own gig?) while the video walls presented a montage of McCartney photos – for almost an hour – the fears of a journey through sentimental nostalgia began to grow.

The second song, Save Me, from latest album, 2013’s New, was bang up to date but left me very underwhelmed.

Things now however started to pick up with the gigantic Got to Get You Into My Life from arguably the best Beatles album, Revolver. This motown-like song’s brass section was also incredibly recreated en large and high up in the mix by the versatile keyboard player.

The next song, One After 909, was worthy of note only in that Paul introduced it as one of the first songs he and John wrote together. More interestingly sounding was the crazy synthesizer fuelled Temporary Secretary from 1980s McCartney II album, which was only performed live for the first time two months ago. McCartney’s hard rock brilliance was up next, with the crunchy duel guitar riff of the Wings’ Let Me Roll It – brilliant stop starting pummelling guitar rock that sounded almost brand new. There was no video screen entertainment during this number either. It didn’t need it. Does rock get any better?

Paperback Writer sounded more dated, but was delivered with outstanding harmonies.

McCartney then leaped to his grand piano for a newer song, My Valentine, written for his current wife (later he played Maybe I’m Amazed, which he said was “written for Linda”). My Valentine was unfortunately a bit dull and backed up with an out-of-place music video featuring Johnny Depp and Natalie Portman.

Next came the great rock n roll piano riff of much underrated Band on the Run closer 1985 “This one is for the Wings’ fans” shouted Paul. The tenth song of the evening was the Beatles’ Long and Winding Road.

And so the evening went for the next 20 songs, with lowlights coming in the form of the awful 2014 Hope for the Future  written for video game destiny and the Beatles kids’ song All Together Now.

Highlights during this middle period came from numerous Beatles’ favourites such as We Can Work It Out, And I Love Her, Lady Madonna, Lovely Rita and Eleanor Rigby.

McCartney sang Blackbird solo on a stage riser, along with Here Today, his song about John. George Harrison’s Something was brilliantly done with a ukulele opening “George was a great ukulele player” exploding into the full golden hued guitar licks.

This began a tremendous run down to the end of the main set with a fun Ob La Di, Band on the Run (with great guitar work), Back in the USSR, Let It Be and then a thunderous Live and Let Die  with tremendously timed blasts of fire and a histrionic fire works display that looked dangerous for the musicians and was a mix of sublime and ridiculous. Things calmed down only mildly for the pitch perfect, crowd sing along na, na, na …. of Hey Jude.

The first encore consisted of an anti climatic trio of Beatles’ standards (ha – is there such a thing as a Beatle standard), Another Girl, Birthday and Can’t Buy Me Love.

But still no Yesterday. Well it came of course at the opening of the final encore. And what I expected to be the end.

But no, the best was incredibly still to come. And did so at first with one of the greatest rock songs of all time – Helter Skelter, with its wild punk like guitar that sounded as exciting as anything ever! YEAH YEAH YEAH.

And then came the ten-minute closing medley from the Abbey Road album, Golden Slumbers, Carry That Weight and the End. Wow!

Yes, at times this was a nostalgic oldies goldies show, with a constant barrage of photos of Paul and the Beatles on the video walls adding to this sentimentality. But at other times the songs sounded as fresh as the day they were recorded. And for the most part this was rock n roll at its best by one its greatest practitioners – with many of his skills still intact. So, if you have never seen a Beatle go, and see this one. Even if you have, go again, I think I will!

Ryan Adams – something good

At Cirkus, Stockholm 10 March 2015.

Ryan Adams is a hugely talented musician, songwriter and performer. He is perhaps one of the best artists, in the very broad alternative country genre at least, around today.

This is evidenced by a prolificacy in album releases over the last 15 years which resembles days of old, when artists released albums yearly as opposed to the one new release every few years that we see from most contemporary acts.

Adams releases on average one new album every year, some of which are doubles, and though never breaking new ground, all are packed with solid well crafted and performed songs. His latest album, titled Ryan Adams, is not one of his best. But even a lesser Ryan Adams album is a solid listen.

His performing talent is also impressive as was evidenced at last night’s concert in Stockholm, which opened with the brilliant opener from the new album, Gimme Something Good, a catchy rocky number with swirling organ and crunchy guitars that set the tone of much of last night’s gig.

Touring this latest album, the setlist featured five tracks from it, but this was also very much a “greatest hits” collection. The 21 tracks played featured songs from across his healthy back-catalogue, albeit played for the most part in his current 1970s Album-Oriented Rock (AOR) style, with a four piece backing band of drums, bass, guitar and organ.

This current style is perhaps best compared to early Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, with third track in last night, Stay With Me, sounding even more Petty like than the studio version, with a clipped vocal delivery, high guitar riffs, plodding bass and organ back up.

An early highlight was Dirty Rain from Ashes and Fire, a great song that showcased Adam’s versatile vocals with a deep slow verse breaking out into a soaring high pitched and uplifting chorus. And like many of his songs, conjuring up images of lonely small town American nights.

This was followed by one of Adam’s greatest songs, Dear Chicago, though while it’s light, almost reggae band backed groove last night offered something a bit different, this was perhaps to the song’s detriment. However who can resist lines like “I been thinking some of suicide, but there’s bars out here for miles.”

Other great familiar Adams’ songs also suffered a little bit from slightly new, which is to be applauded, but detrimental arrangements. New York, New York, still retained its compulsive rhythmic acoustic guitar foundation but was a little too restrained musically. And La Cienga Just Smiled, which I once heard the legendary British radio DJ Bob Harris say was his second favourite song of all time (after Stand By Me), suffered from slightly intrusive drumming.

Magnolia Mountain however, from the ridiculously listenable alt-country Cold Roses album, broke out from its swirling spidery guitar riffs into a Doors like bluesy rock middle part jam, before returning again to the familiar arrangement with an added hint of early 70s Topanga Canyon singer-songwriter harmonies and Crosby Stills Nash and Young electric groove. The song’s lyrics, “there ain’t nothing but the truth up on the Magnolia Mountain,” also evoke the sentiments of the late 60s early 70s LA generation and offer a change from Adam’s usual lovelorn heavy content.

Adam’s competence in the genres he works in is immense. His songs, though never sounding like rip-offs, sound steeped in Americana musical knowledge.

And as well an impressive voice, Adams can really play guitar, with his musical talents seeming to get better and better with age. Be it with superb guitar playing on country soaked acoustic ballads, grungy AOR electric rhythm or high note riffs and solos. Or on his expressive harmonica playing which featured on the ever popular closer Come Pick Me Up and Winding Wheel, one of just two songs delivered solo, the other being a cover of his support act Natalie Prass’s song My Baby don’t Understand Me, which could almost have been one of Adam’s own songs.

He also looks like he is managing all this great playing and singing with little effort. Hunched over his guitars, which he holds quite high, dressed in denims, his leg occasionally bends and now and then the guitar is held aloft, but he looks in total control. He even indicated with his hands level changes to the sound guys while playing and singing at the same time.

As he has aged, he has also become a highly professional performer. Gone are the nervous shuffles, fiddling with instruments, complaints about the sound, and often quite highly charged audience berating from his earlier concerts. Or the wild abandon of his Rock n Roll tour which saw him swigging from wine bottles on stage and culminating in a tumbling of a stage and breaking his wrist.

While this is probably much better for him, it is a bit of a shame for the audience. Adams’ gigs used to be thrillingly exciting, with a raw but unstable talent baring his all with a wild recklessness. With concerts in general long having become fairly predictable, rehearsed events, you always felt with Adams anything could happen. He is also extremely funny and in a nervy way very chatty with the audience, telling funny stories and introducing songs with hilariously surreal explanations as to their meaning.

Last night, and at the last Adams concert I saw two years ago, he barely spoke to the crowd and whizzed through the setlist with total professionalism, packing in a very decent amount of songs in just under two hours. On paper, everything was great, including the playing, song selection and incredibly good sound levels, where every note could be heard and every phrase, no matter how softy sung understood.

But it was almost too good. Too perfect, too rehearsed (the setlist has barely changed over this tour which didn’t used to be the case) and too slick and professional.

The most playful aspect was the stage set-up, with a couple of old video arcade games flashing away and Neil Young Live Rust style giant decorative amplifiers that surely went up to 11.

Rarely did the band get up to 11 though. The intensity of earlier Adams’ gigs was most evident on the solo acoustic numbers. With total silence in the hall and every move on the guitar string heard.

The one time Adams’ actually got animated was during the solo delivery of Winding Wheel. He stopped playing after the first verse to shout at the crowd, in scenes reminiscent of the old Adams, for using flash photography, which he said, aggravates his Meniere’s disease by making him feel sick and dizzy. Apparently requests to not use flash photography had been widely made, though I hadn’t noticed myself. Cleary it is understandable for Adams to get annoyed by this. And his annoyance is not something to enjoy. It was enjoyable however to hear his rant move on to phone usage at concerts generally. “You are at a concert, put your fucking phone down and engage! Get a life!” he hollered. He then restarted the intimate softly song sung as if nothing had happened.

The final song of the main set, I See Monsters, was introduced as “a real slow jam.” Half way through it burst into life in an explosion of punk rock frenzied guitar solos. Brilliant. And a wild change of pace that was a real surprise.

Despite the polishing up of the edges, Adams is still brilliant. Last night’s gig was evidence of a musician on top of his game. While not as wild as days of old, his professionalism is to be admired and he remains a formidable live act.

Steve Earle and the Dukes (and Duchesses) – Nalen, Stockholm 11th June 2013

Here is Steve Earle in the 21^st century. It ain’t as cool as he hoped it would be he sings last night in Stockholm.  Luckily for us though Steve Earle provided the Stockholm crowd with a very cool set list that kept them way up past their bedtimes.

The songs from Steve’s very recently released latest album, The Low Highway, feature unsurprisingly heavily on the current tour. So heavily in fact that all 12 songs from the album were played last night.

But Steve was on stage for over 2 hours and at times zipped through songs so fast that there was no time for the audience to clap, enabling him to perform over 30 songs in total from across his significant back catalogue.

Now, for those that don’t know, Steve Earle is quite a character. A country rocker who made his first record in the mid 1980’s, disappeared from view and into prison after a period of heavy drug abuse and re emerged in the mid 90s reformed and rejuvenated.

Since then he hasn’t stopped. Producing album after album of high quality music which goes far beyond the country rock tag and includes heavy rock, bluegrass, blues, roots and folk.

His music contains, as well as haunting and beautiful love songs, many politically charged lyrics. He is a left-wing radical by US standards and amongst many issues he actively supports are the abolition of the death penalty and the occupy movement.

He has also been married seven times (twice to the same woman) although seems to have settled down in recent years with singer Alison Moorer, normally in the band but inexplicably absent last night.

His wild days have clearly left a mark.  He has long but thinning grey hair with a centre bald patch and a huge Buddha like beard which with his glasses make him look like Allen Ginsburg in his latter life. Steve also has a bear like figure with a huge Texan waist and he often seems breathless on stage and fails to finish the odd line. At times it is hard to make out the lyrics as he mumbles or doesn’t quite make the notes.

And while last night’s set straddled the full range of musical styles in Steve’s repertoire it was perhaps the heavier rocker side that got the lion’s share of air time and the loud electric guitars and drums also made it harder to hear the words.

This is a shame as Steve Earle is perhaps the best American songwriter around today.

Steve Spends a lot of time on the road, a fact obvious in Stockholm last night with the tour bus parked right out front of the venue, Nalen, a small concert hall in an old 1880’s dance hall in a small back street in the centre of the city.

And the title track of his latest album, The Low Highway, is a commentary on America, garnered from travels across the country in the bus. This song, full of Steinbeck like imagery tells of hungry people and empty houses.

Another stand out track from the album is Burnin’ it Down, one of many narrative Steve Earle songs about characters on the margins of small town America, this one is contemplating burning the local wall mart down.

And one of the stand out songs from last night, Invisible, sung wonderfully by Steve and bass player and long time Duke Kelley Looney, was introduced by Steve as being inspired by seeing the ever-increasing line at a soup kitchen in his New York neighborhood.

Steve’s story telling between songs is as entertaining as the music itself and is also often very political, be it in an odd throw away remark like “Coming from occupied Mexico as I do….” (Steve is from Texas), to a longer tale about a friend of his who was an investment banker and was once a republican “though he credited me with sorting that problem out.”

This was Warren Hellman, who when San Francisco city workers nearly lost all their pensions stepped in with a huge endowment. Steve dedicated the song Warren Hellman’s Banjo to him adding “just goes to show you folks, you don’t have to be an asshole if you are rich.”

Steve introduced the next song, Little Emperor, about George W Bush, by saying “now this is about someone who is rich and an asshole.”

Amongst the array of musical styles on offer last night was some rootsy New Orleans influenced numbers. This is because Steve has been acting in a drama series about post Katrina New Orleans called Treme (he was also in a few episodes of the Wire).

The New Orleans segment of last night’s set included This City from the last album I’ll Never Get Out Of This World Alive and from the Low Highway came After Mardi Grass, Pocket Full of Rain with Steve taking to piano and guitar player Chris Masterson providing a mid track blast of thunderous electric guitar, and the gypsy like Love’s Gonna Blow My Way, one of many tracks showcasing some great violin playing from Eleanor Whitmore, the wife of guitar player Chris with whom she forms the Mastersons who were tonight’s support act.

Steve mentioned many times that the current line up of the Dukes is the best band he has ever had and indeed they are an impressive bunch of musicians, the Masterson’s in particular, whose support set was full of pleasant country twinged harmonies, came alive with Steve, providing scintillating guitar solos, either in 1950s tremolo Guitar Town style or on rock numbers such as Taneytown about a black kid who stabs a rich white kid in self defence and features in longer form in Steve’s short story prose collection Doghouse Roses.

As well as great violin playing (which at times suffered from being too loud or too quiet in the mix), Eleanor provided wonderful harmonies on numerous tracks including You’re Still Standing There, originally recorded by Steve with Lucinda Williams on harmony.

Amongst the rockier numbers that included a furious Copperhead Road and The Revolution Starts Now, were some bluegrass numbers from perhaps Steve Earle’s greatest album Train a Comin’ including Mystery Train and the brilliant civil war critique of Ben McCulloch. There was also the Irish folk fuelled Galway Girl.

In fact the songs just kept coming and after what seemed a shaky nervous opening (which included a strained but brilliant I Thought You Should Know, in which Steve asks a new lover not to break his heart which, is already broken), it seemed Steve didn’t want to stop. Although with each encore the audience thinned more and more, the Swedes not used to being up past midnight, as it now was, on a weeknight.

Although it was perhaps the first encore that contained the night’s greatest highlights including I Ain’t Ever Satisfied and two sublime love songs. One, My Old Friend the Blues, from Steve’ first album Guitar Town, the other from his latest.

This was Remember Me, made all the more heart-rending as Steve told us before playing it that it is about his three-year old son who has been diagnosed with autism. The song is about Steve, who, 58, knows he won’t be around long in his son’s life.

His fragile vocals may not always suit a loud live performance, but with moments of brilliance, beauty and sadness this was, as ever, a typical up and down evening in the company of a great artist, which I would never want to miss.

Richard Thompson – Electric

Barbican, London, 26 February 2013

Anyone expecting a pleasant evening of easy listening folk from the back catalogue of one of the founding members of 1960s British folk-rock pioneers Fairport Convention, was in for a shock.

After the second song I turned to my friend and said I feel like I am watching the Jimi Hendrix Experience. And not just because we were watching a three-piece with a bass player who looked from a distance a little like an older version of Jimi’s bassist Noel Redding.

But because Richard Thompson’s set at the Barbican this week was a virtuoso vision of guitar driven prog rock more akin to the great rock bands of the late 60s and 70s, then anything approaching the folk for which Thompson is more associated.

To underline this point the encore saw the band do a cover of 60s supergroup Cream’s White Room.

The setlist featured heavily tracks from Thompson’s latest album Electric, which also features the live outfit of slick drummer Michael Jerome who would look more at home in a jazz band and the extraordinary bassist Taras Prodaniuk, attired in a suit and looking very 70s.

With Thompson looking almost like a skipper from a whaler with his white beard, beret and black jeans , the trio looked completely uncohesive.

But their playing together was, well, electric. Around Jerome’s barrage of artillery on the drum kit Thompson and Prodaniuk traded incredible fire from their guitars.

They followed each other as tight as can be on the “folk funk” (mostly funk) of opening tracks Stuck on the Treadmill and the thundering Sally B. And went off in worlds of solo exploration on the first old track of the night, For Shame of Doing Wrong, a dark Doorsy blues like number from the 1975 Richard and Linda Thompson album Pour Down Like Silver.

And so the evening went. Prodaniuk must be one of the most impressive bass players I have ever seen. Who is he! His instrument looked like a part of him and the space he found within musical bars was incredible, running up and down the fret board with amazing nimbleness and authority.

During their spars he often had the upper hand, before melting away to let his boss Thompson explode with all manner of licks, chords and sounds. It is no wonder that Thompson has been voted one of the best guitar players ever by Rolling Stone Magazine. His technique and variety seems limitless.

Unfortunately though this was a rather one-dimensional evening, which also suffered from the fact that the Barbican is just not a good place for this type of music.Rock trios don’t play any better than this. They can’t. It’s impossible. Although it has to be said White Room sounded flat and made the band sound inferior to Cream, an impression soon put to rest when they did their own Stony Ground. Why is it that even the greatest bands just can’t do other people’s songs as well as the originals?

The band performed at Shepherds Bush Empire the night before which would have been far more suitable.

The audience also seemed somewhat bemused by this onslaught of guitar. Although there was some gentle bobbing about during another oldie Wall of Death and everyone sang along to the set closer of 1983’s Tear Stained Letter.

The inclusion of murder ballad Sidney Wells and sea shanty Little Sally Rackett might have gone someway to providing a hint of folk, but even these were performed at break neck speed with guitar solos piercing the skin.

In fact everything this evening was about as far away from folk or even folk rock as can be.

Now I am not even close to being a traditionalist, and this was an astonishingly talented and impressive and spirited performance which was at times hugely enjoyable. But a few smatterings from Thompson’s more folkier side would have given the evening a much more varied and welcome mix.

This was made clear when someone shouted out “Beeswing” at the start of the second encore. Thompson hesitated, musing no doubt, how he could do this with the band. He then asked the other musicians to wait, picked up an acoustic guitar and played, as if he’d been practising it all day, an off the cuff rendition of one of his most beautiful songs.

Beeswing is a truly wonderful song, somewhere in the folk spectrum between John Martyn and Nic Jones, about a free-spirited woman and her lover moving about England. Its elegiac like melody is underlined by some wonderful guitar parts and it was one of the highlights of the evening.

Thompson can sing no doubt and by god he can play electric guitar. But his folky down to earth English voice does tend to suit the more folky numbers more which are also beautifully played. More of those would have made a good night into a great one.

Sahara Soul – Joy from Mali

Last Saturday’s Sahara Soul concert at London’s Barbican featured three very different bands from Mali, a giant of African countries for its musical output.

When I booked the tickets a few weeks ago though I had no idea how topical the show would turn out to be. For although Mali has been in serious turmoil for over a year, it is only with the French military operation launched there last month that the situation has hit the UK headlines. Indeed so topical is Mali it seems, this concert received far more mainstream reviews than is usual.

Mali was considered an African success story due to 20 years of economic growth, a flourishing democracy and relative social stability. But in 2012 all that changed. Al Qaeda practically formed a separate state in the desert north while the democratically elected president was ousted in a coup.

So when Saturday night’s show was introduced with the news that French troops had just captured the northern city of Gao to audience cheers, it was clear that tonight was about more than music. Though never has the cliché about the unifying power of music seemed more relevant.

The three bands performing represented three different Malian ethnicities and three very different musical styles. They also hold different political visions for Mali, though tonight the message was all about getting peace first.

Sidi Toure

First up was Sidi Toure, who actually comes from Gao where the radical islamist regime has in the last year effectively outlawed music, and forced musicians like Toure into exile.

A member of the Muslim Songhai people (the vast majority of Malians are Muslim), dressed in robes and a kufi hat, he played folky “songhai blues” – on a swirling rhythmic acoustic guitar.  

Perhaps the most enjoyable part of Sidi Toure’s relatively mellow set was his incredible percussionist. Leaping about at the back of the stage, encouraging the audience to clap along, while his wrists were a blur of rhythm on the single cylinder type drum that he somehow got bass and hi-hat like sounds from at the same time with just his hands and small sticks.  

Next up were the completely different Tamikrest (though the same cylinder drum thing was in use). Tamikrest are a younger and rockier version of Tinarwien. And like them are Touareg people – nomads from across the Sahara.

It was in fact a rebellion by Touareg militias in the north of Mali last year, part of a prolonged separatist campaign, which led to the establishment by Islamic extremists (who some say hijacked the Touareg cause) of a separate state.

Tamikrest rock. Seriously. Their leader, Ousmane AG Mossa, looks like a young laid back Jimi Hendrix dressed in desert robes with hair looking like it had been electrified by his Les Paul guitar.

Perhaps it is the difference in his political opinions that contributed to his ‘too cool for school look’, or maybe he just is too cool for school. During the ensemble finale he seemed to keep to the sidelines.

It was down to the side of the stage that a handful of women from the almost all white Barbican crowd leapt to one by one to let loose and dance to Tamikrest’s ripping set of desert blues. This was played with looping melodic dusty sounding electric guitars, supported by furious percussion and astonishing undulating bass.

Tamikrest

Tamikrest are not nearly as subtle or intricate as the more famous Tinariwen. And Ousmane’s vocals were almost too laid back to be audible. But this was off set by the whooping backing vocals of female bandmate Wonou Waldet Sidati and the generally great music that is the saharan blues meeting western rock music – and that bass player was just amazing!

All the songs tonight were sung in French, or the languages of Mali. The between song chat was also in French, each artist apologising for their bad English. This meant I didn’t understand a lot of what was being said. What was clear though was that everyone was happy about the French helping Mali oust the Islamic radicals from the north.

You didn’t need to speak French though to understand final act Bassekou Kouyate’s list of liberties that have been stripped from society by the extremists. “No music, no TV, no telephones, no democracy. This is no good,” he said. Adding that Sharia law “is very bad”.

Aminata Sacko and Bassekou Kouyate

In his headline act Bassekou Kouyate, a big bear like man from southern Mali, commanded the stage while leading his six person band called Ngoni Ba which included his son Moustafa and his wife Aminata Sacko.

The whole band were dressed in purple robes and Kouyate himself looked like an African king, albeit one who played the very basic looking lute like instrument called the ngoni with one leg on the monitors at the front of the stage, rock style!

The ngoni is quite an incredible instrument. It seems to come in different varieties with Kouyate playing lead guitar like solos on a small variant while other members of the band played rhythm like larger versions of the instrument.

Kouyate’s music is totally different to the two preceding band, sounding more like southern African music. It sounded happy too. And indeed Kouyate and his band were a cheery bunch who despite the between song talk of sharia law and war couldn’t help but infuse the Barbican with a feeling of warmth.

In fact it is quite amazing how the Barbican crowd managed to resist the jubilant energy of the band who danced on the stage in mini spontaneous synchronised routines or when the percussionist leapt to the forefront playing crazy shell like instruments or a mini drum held on his shoulders which made all kinds of sounds. 

Kouyate finished his set to a standing ovation and then the grande finale saw all 17 musicians that had played tonight back on stage for a messy but joyful encore. 

The crowd needed some encouragement, but resistance to dancing was now futile. In the end, war seemed very far away from this concert hall, where it seemed, it was all about the music after all.

Martha Wainwright – bonkers!

Shepherd’s Bush Empire, Sunday, 2 December 2012

Martha Wainwright is hugely talented. As the sister (Rufus’s) and daughter (Loudon Wainwright III and Kate McGarrigle’s) of hugely talented musicians and songwriters this is no wonder. What is wondrous though is her voice. It is astonishing.

She is also completely bonkers! Delightfully so. Such is her charisma, whether it be her between song chatter or her odd mannerisms, she is a mesmerising presence on stage.

Unfortunately a lot of her own songs, more poppy than those of her folky parents and less melodic than her brother’s, don’t really provide the platform which you feel her talents, notably that voice, need.

Her voice really is something else, and got to soar on the opening two numbers of Sunday night, played by Martha solo with acoustic guitar.

Factory, from her more singer-songwriter sounding debut album of 2005, is one of her best self penned tracks. Always incredibly expressive, on this song her voice also veers from raw and husky to sweetly melodic.

Next up was I am a Diamond, written by her mother, who died in 2010. The Wainwright- McGarrigle family wear their emotions boldly on their sleeves and Martha is no different. You wondered how she would get through the night such was the intensity of emotion in her vocal delivery on this song. “I think I need emotional botox,” she quips after the song, looking mentally exhausted.

Kate, who sang and recorded with her sister Anna, played a very particular type of folk, not always easily accessible. It is ironic that Martha perhaps makes her mother’s work more powerful, while her own songs often lack some oomph.

And so on came the band, with whom Martha performed for most of the night songs predominately from her latest album. These are perfectly acceptable, AOR-pop tracks with often great open and honest mature lyrics, but musically they are really nothing special and just don’t really go where you know that voice can.

The band also seemed rather under-whelmed and underwhelming with a lack of rapport between Martha and the musicians. Bar of course her husband bass player. Dressed in a monk’s habit and black death-mask he must make quite an appropriately quirky addition to Wainwright family gatherings.

Martha though is always a joy to watch. Her left leg kicks out like a prowling horse, as if she has no control over it at all. Her arms reach upwards and she ferociously massages her hair until you feel it’s gonna fall out.

And then, when she has the songs to fully lose herself in, like the two Edif Piath numbers in the middle of the set (Martha’s third album was an entire collection of Piaf numbers), sung with just piano accompaniment, she paces lion-like round the stage and then falls to the floor as the melody and French passion soar. And of course she sings these songs in a deeply powerful chanteuse voice.

It is mum though who provides Martha with the platform to deliver the most staggering performance of the night.

Proserpina is the last song Kate McGarrigle wrote. Performed by Martha it is amazing. With sparse arrangement, the melody is haunting; the lyrics exude the bitterness of death. The band provide choral harmonies as the song builds to a crescendo with Martha wailing manically yet beautifully, like a woman mourning a loss almost too much to bear. The intensity is heightened by the song’s chorus plea “come home to mother.”

The encore is minus the band and better for it. Husband Brad accompanies Martha on piano for a throaty and raw Stormy Weather before it is Martha again alone with guitar for This Life, another catchy folky highlight from her debut album. Then she’s off, whipping her skirt up for a flash of her knickers as she exists the stage.

Bonkers, hugely entertaining, and that voice! No need for the band next time Martha.