(Ladies and Gentlemen, in my opinion—and one echoed by fans and friends throughout the country and around the world: perhaps the purest rhythm and blues band to ever be recorded: Delaney & Bonnie & Friends.)
Delaney & Bonnie & Friends
On Tour with Eric Clapton
(Atco)
If it is true that we are judged by the company we keep, then Delaney Bramlett has the musical wisdom of Solomon. Can you imagine having an on-stage lineup of this proportion: Dave Mason, Jim Gordon, Bobby Whitlock, Carl Radle, Bobby Keys, Jim Price, Rita Coolidge, Bonnie Bramlett, Tex Johnson…and a fella named Clapton. Lord have mercy!
Maybe the Beatles said it better: “I Get By With a Little Help from My Friends.” Delaney knows the merits of that—just look again at those names and you know that his little black book of phone numbers belongs in the Smithsonian. I mention the Fab Four because Delaney played with them, too—and George was another Friend of this widespread family. In fact, both he and Ringo were at one of these shows—and stood on their chairs during the applause to show their enthusiasm. You could add another Beatles phrase in here, too: “…you’re gonna carry that weight”: this band’s power and energy moved fixed stages. But when there was this kind of power coming from the set, they probably needed steel reinforcements.
From the first notes, Delaney’s relentless driving pace and Bonnie’s crackling, tearing voice rips up the set for this awesome, blistering performance as “Things Get Better” literally kicks off like a revved Harley. Whitlock’s steaming organ fires up beside the horns and a great jangling guitar solo takes your breath away. By the way, the man who truly held the helm throughout this show was Carl Radle—just see how quick his fingers jumped as he guided the pace while letting his bandmates enjoy the spotlight. Radle is, in my book, a forgotten mentor for bass players who need to learn how to handle a band in the manner that a trainer works a Kentucky Derby winner.
D&B’s souls come with a deep love for two vital ingredients: Robert Johnson’s blues and gospel, and “Poor Elijah—Tribute to Johnson (Medley)” lets this good man and woman tell their stories as they set their voices aloft like kites dancing in a summer wind. Mr. Clapton scampers and jumps like an enthusiastic, happy puppy during his solo, with notes that are just down-to-earth delightful and honest in their directness—just listen to his sincerity.
In case you overlooked it, Dave Mason had a well-known hit that Delaney covered: “Only You Know and I Know,” and when the band takes it, everyone gets a chance to show off their strengths—especially the guitar solos that challenge each other in a magnificent duel, but please thank Jim Price and Bobby Keys for their horn work and tremendous efforts as they project a panoramic wall of sound as a backdrop. If anyone in the audience wasn’t torn to a frenzy during the Bacchanalian-like festivities of “I Don’t Want to Discuss It,” I’d like to know if someone checked their pulse. The band races on a hell-for-leather mad dash behind Delaney’s ecstatic zeal—just pick any player, follow them over their own off-road rally, and be sure your seat belt is buckled, ‘cause this is free-wheelin’! Have you ever seen those speeded-up old-time films—the Keystone Kops come to mind—where everything seems to be in double-time? Imagine a song at that pace. Wait a minute--when the party is over, Ms. Bonnie has the spotlight—and a red one, please—the lady asked for it--as “That’s What My Man is For” calls for some sweaty swayin’ and bumping and grinding. And tell it, tell it righteously she does, just the way it is, two-fisted, rich and raw, as she puts her pipes through a session that would make Janis Joplin stand up and pump the air with a proud salute.
In another of those “here-we-go-again!” escapades, “Where There’s A Will, There’s a Way” sets Olympic records for enthusiasm, excitement, and all-around musical marksmanship, and that’s why fire extinguishers are made—to put out blazes like this--sho’ nuff, honey. Follow this up with “Coming Home,” as Dave Mason’s snaky slide guitar taunts Eric’s lead, and the horns make it clear that this destination can’t be denied. So what do we do for a finale? Whop-bop-a-loo-bop!—dance yer shoes off (and anything else that comes loose, but don’t stop!), as a Little Richard medley demolishes “Tutti-Frutti,” grooves into “The Girl Can’t Help It,” flaunts a passionate “Long Tall Sally,” and escorts sister “Jenny Jenny” for all the right, naughty reasons. Get up, get down, get it on, and best of all, get to it! And if you can catch yourself from dancing in the street, then you need another listen. Memories are made from shows like these—may I be lucky enough in my lifetime to meet more people who were in England on this magic night and hear their testimony.
<< Home