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Review February 08
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15 February 2008
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Sam, Day Level and Jackson Jones tread the boards .... Jackson Jones was onstage when I came in. He had him some nice tunes and some engaging repartee. I had been informed outside about the artist and the words ‘black’ and ‘country’ had stayed in my mind. Thus it didn’t seem a stretch for me to expect that he would be a coloured singer playing country music from Tennessee. It didn’t exactly work out that way. ‘Sheutt!’ An’ I was fresh off the transatlantic shuttle from Memphis. I found his ‘black country’ accent a mite tricky to begin with, but he sure made the audience feel at home. Working his own material for the most part he played some fine chords evoking a nostalgic feel for past good times. Making use of the 2-minute interval to go and ‘press the flesh’ as we say when we greet people back home, I ambled over to the bar area. I had me a cut over my eye that I’d got from the baggage rack on the airliner, and some folks had the mind to point out that not all English women were that feisty, and I shouldn’t give up hope. Damn! You Brits and your sense of humor! Next up came Day Level. Brian Carrington and Sally Tonge set up on stage with acoustic guitars and fine melding voices. A slide show accompanied the songs. I recognized Summertime by George Gershwin amongst their own material. One song told of Sally’s son and his love of toy weaponry. Just a stage kids go through seemed to be the point and interestingly intercut with a couple of images of boy soldiers in Africa. Gareth Owen took the stage to declare a poem or two. Good, thoughtful stuff and earthily humorous with the tale of the travails of teenage guitar hopefuls in their efforts to move their act from bedroom to auditorium. Record contracts, split-ups, the big prize looks imminent, and then they get shafted at the end when the record company plumps for their singer. All related in that ‘black country’ accent which brought the big laughs. Sam hit the stage mid-way through the evening. A pretty fine band, working through a variety of blues, soul and stuff that was hard to categorize, but it sure retained a funky flavor. Organ in back, drums, guitar, mandolin, and…as was pointed out…loud Hawaiian shirt. There was also a moment of dueling harmonicas before a song was introduced written by the Reverend A. C. Franklin. The band took off with Dr. Feelgood and the singer made it her own, swooping through several octaves and taking her own sweet time to bring it on home. A. C.’s daughter, Aretha, woulda’ been proud. I spent the rest of the night in conversation with Brits and enjoying the rural hospitality of St. Michael’s. As dawn breaks now, I’m headed out to Tenbury, looking to breakfast on coffee and corn grits. Something tells me I’ll have my work cut out. - Des Touche
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