So that's the secret ingredient, then. On arriving early to catch the soundcheck, Whisperin' & Hollerin' discover Detroit's supercharged bluesmeisters THE SOLEDAD BROTHERS engaged in another vital rock'n'roll ritual. Drink a yard of Jack Daniel's? Finding the best cubicle to shoot up? Pshaw!....nothing so trivial. No, the Soledads are busily changing into the finest American shoe leather from their collective wardrobe. Phew! Sure beats taking a dump any day of the week.
It's a ritual that works a treat, though, as tonight's another of these cool freebie Pine Lodge evenings that brings us the best of the credible US backwoods for little more than a short drive from the city and the price of a pint. Bargain!!
Up first is Kentucky singer/ songwriter DAVID VINER, who's joined by Pearlene frontman Reuben Glaser to treat us to some exquisite downhome guitar pickng to whet our collective appetite. At this stage, most of the punters are only trickling in, but those already ensconced get to savour bourbon-soaked highlights like "The Man Downtown", "Nobody's Fault But Mine" and Glaser's terrific "Dying Crap Shooter's Blues" which injects "St. James' Infirmary" with some potent voodoo.
Great start, but the fireworks really explode when Glaser steps up to front his energised Kentucky power trio PEARLENE. Unfortunately, W&H's enjoyment of this cracking combo is marred somewhat by the unwanted attentions of the tosser from hell who's just plonked himself at our table. Remember Jasper Carrott's immortal "nutter on the bus" sketch, where he recalls how the loony ALWAYS decides to sit next to you? Well, this is the rock'n'roll equivalent.
Still, even he can't alter the fact that PEARLENE play some deliriously down'n'dirty rock'n'roll, even more remarkable considering the fact their drummer was deported from the UK the previous day owing to work permit problems. Deputising tonight, the Soledads' Ben Swank works rhythmic wonders, whipping Glaser and sharply-tailored bassist Jesse Ebaugh into a frenzy with the closing "Murder Blues And Prayer." Woo-hoo!!
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Following this is a tough task, but not one that leaves The Soleded Brothers wanting. Having picked up essential press cred by dint of their White Stripes links ( tall, dark'n' handsome guitarist/ sax player Oliver Henry has been stepping out with Meg and drummer Ben is Jack White's flatmate), none of this really matters when they get up and simply rock like a force ten gale has taken hold of them.
OK, it's nothing remotely revolutionary, but in this setting it's irresisitible. Drummer Swank threatens to topple through the open window behind him at any time, such is the power he invests in pulverising his tiny kit, while singer/ guitarist Johnny Walker kicks away the chocks on innumerable amphetamined Gun Club-style licks. Henry excels when he swaps guitar for sax: the ensuing racket sounding not entirely dissimilar to a Sex Pistollised Morphine and is liable to bring on delirium in such shoebox surroundings. By the end of their frenzied set, most of the glittery letters have dropped off Swank's kit (it reads SOLEDAD ROBS eventually) and the knobhead punter we've been trying to avoid has upended a table full of drinks all over W&H. Oh well.
This is one of the less-publicised touring partnerships to have made the trip across the pond of late, but it's a potently unmissable one. If you're reading this in Europe, I'd strongly advise you to check for listings as this is one whirlwind you shouldn't avoid.
Besides, we've been looking for the new patron saints of quality footwear for far too long as it is.
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