That was before lunch. Shortly after dinner I headed downtown to Berbati’s for the full show. The entire bill is important to Back Door Slam. This past summer saw them opening for the likes of Kid Rock and Lynyrd Skynyrd in stadiums around the country. Next month, a theater tour opening for jam band stalwarts, Gov’t Mule drives the point home. So it was no surprise that they had two strong openers themselves.
Local favorites, The Jacob Merlin Band began the festivities with a bang. With the full complement of horns, JMB got everyone’s attention right away with a funk fueled musical rampage on Berbati’s sparse stage. Elbow to elbow, they blasted through a dynamic set anchored by Merlin’s hard rock honky tonk piano playing and gritty tenor. The ever crowding bar patrons all turned and boogied right along. With the right mix of witty lyrics, bright musicality and brass (literally) the Jacob Merlin Band showed why they have been growing in popularity around town.
The surprise of the night was the middle act, Denver’s Rob Drabkin. Taking the stage after Merlin’s high energy set armed with an acoustic guitar, a djembe (small acoustic drum) player and an afro that would have made a Will It Go Round In Circles-era Billy Preston proud, Drabkin lit into the first of many short stories told with guitar and drum. It took a while for him to get through to the audience that just minutes earlier was shaking their collective groove thing like it was 1977, myself included. But soon his intricate finger picking method and character driven songs got our attention. With a voice and song structure not too far from Dave Matthews, just this side of Jack Johnson, Drabkin won me over. I am a really big Dave Matthews fan, though. By the end of his set, I was a fan, bringing his cd home for closer inspection.
When the house lights dimmed again, out strode Back Door Slam. The best band from Great Britain’s Isle Of Man started with energy commensurate with their delicate ages (they all turned 21 within the last year). They tore through their catalogue and then some, much to the delight of the gathered fans.
The aforementioned gathered fans were easily double the crowd at this same venue last January, and that was on a Tuesday. That is significant only if you consider the hypothesis that the days of the week attain a somewhat higher ranking in the happiness order the closer you get to the weekend. Heck, reputable barber shops aren’t even open on Mondays. This place was packed.
Eyes closed, muscles taut, Davy Knowles is giving it his all tonight on stage. Simply oozing energy, his fingers at times too fast to see as more than a blur, he seems to be feeling every note, bending it, twisting it, gently caressing it until rings true enough to be felt deep, deep in his soul. A particular favorite for me tonight was the Robert Cray song from whence they got their name, Back Door Slam. Davy played the subtle changes and lead on this song like a man possessed.
I have to give massive props to Adam Jones and Ross Doyle. I can’t help but notice how much these two have improved their playing since the first time I saw them. Doyle’s fills and runs were innovative and accenting on each song. Subtle when changing the tune’s mood to gunshot sharp, he makes it look easy. And Jones on the bass held the bottom end with panache and authority from start to finish. He looks casual, standing relatively still, never smiling, never frowning, all the time his fingers pounding out a frantic, deep melody/roadmap for Knowles’ solos. He has gone, in my mind, from the bass player in this band, to their bass guitarist, a subtle yet distinctly different label that puts him on a different plane from others.
The band played almost all of the songs from Come Home and some choice covers. From The Doors’ Been Down So Long to the Muddy Waters classic, Mannish Boy, to Cream’s Outside Woman Blues, they flawlessly rolled through their set with authority. There was no blood onstage during their encore, Jimi Hendrix’ Red House, but it was not for lack of trying. Knowles bent and tweaked that guitar like he was trying to extract water, instead pulling out some of the most magnificent music a drop at a time.
So now Monday’s over. It’s slipped into Tuesday morning while I wasn’t paying attention to the day of the week, the hour of the day or season of the year. I was rapt with the blues, time didn’t matter. But, just like the good days follow the bad ones (see hypothesis above) time marches on. And musicians grow in their mastery of their instruments. And bands get larger and larger followings, rising in popularity as far as their talent will take them.
And the days get better and better the closer you get to the weekend (or the farther away you get from Monday.
Rock on through the fog – –
A.J. Crandall
4 Responses
these guys are great – saw them do an industry showcase event. Great acoustic set
Well hell Mr Crandall!
That was an incredible review! Many thanks for a rivitting read! Having seen this band “several” times…I can attest to their ability to transport you to that place where Mondays just don’t matter. They really are incredible!