03 March 2011 (gig)
16 March 2011
I once heard that God wanted to be Charlton Heston. I'm not disagreeing with them, but I know if God's ever looking of for a new voice he needs to look no further than Tony Joe White. "How y'all doing?" he asks in the velvet voice that would make any red bloody woman go weak at the knees, and you just know from the beginning that you're in for a show. He kicks in with 'Way Down South' from his 1993 album 'The Path of a Decent Groove' and "I was born and raised on a little ole farm..." echos around a near silent but delighted room.
Seated wearing a hat, shades, voodoo and a whole lot of good luck, it's just White on vocals and electric guitar (with the odd bit of harmonica thrown in every now and then) and his drummer Fleetwood. The sound however isn't lacking, in fact quite the opposite as Tony Joe reminds us with subtle expertise that he's still the king of the Wah Wah pedal with extended drawn out jams on many numbers. It's the same ensemble as the White Stripes but Jack White (no relation) would be the first to say Tony Joe does it better.
"It feels good in here" he announces and he effortlessly plays through a catalogue that spans over 40 years and includes such classics as 'Steamy Windows', 'Poke Salad Annie' and 'Roosevelt and Ira Lee' — all of which we were treated to tonight. It's a different slower groove however, but not a bad groove even as White plays 'Rainy Night in Georgia' at funeral march pace. In his own words he has a "new sound" and he performs 'Season Man' another from his latest release, but "Only before we get down to some swamp" which is lapped up by an assuring audience.
The Jazz Cafe is a nice place and upstairs they were eating ribs on the rack while downstairs Tony Joe was playing harmonica on the rack. He sure is an undercover agent for the blues, and fair play to the venue, the sound was great. With youngster Steph Newton opening I was hoping for a few more young faces in an audience that at times resembled a sea of bald spots and thinning hair. They were all enjoying themselves however, even resorting to some air guitar in the restaurant balcony. In a career that's spanned as many years as this, I'm guessing there's still time to cross over.
Tonight I'm pretty sure White could read the phone book and everybody would have been happy — especially the ladies. In fact if there isn't a Tony Joe White sat nav, I'm inventing it. Trouble is I'd always be asking for directions to the swamp, just so I could hear the alligators say "chomp chomp".
