Jimmy LaFave and the Night Tribe Band, Jim Lauderdale including B. J. Cole
at the Borderline, London, Sunday, April 19th, 1998
Soul as big as a Texas sky: Jimmy LaFave and Robert MacIntyre
'Two parts religion, three parts sin'
Words Mike Plumbley · Pictures Dave KnowlesA rain sodden gray Sunday afternoon. Sat on an old train crawling between Wimbledon to Waterloo. There had been an 'incident' at Clapham Junction the guard announced. 'Sorry' was about as good as it got. Rain dripped endlessly out of a dismal sky. The clock ticked away.
Eternity passed. Eventually I broke free at Waterloo. Raced down into the Underground and reappeared four stops later onto the freezing cold of Tottenham Court Road. I reached the Borderline as Jim Lauderdale was on his first number. Found Dave Knowles, as ever, camera at the ready, glued in his favourite spot about three feet from the front mic.
Jim Lauderdale's native Nashville has been hit by an ugly, tree flipping, bar flattening tornado of late. His set tonight had all the force of a mean twister. Much to do with the band he had joined up with on the tour.
Jim Lauderdale and England's very own B. J. Cole on pedal steel
I knew the pedal steel player in an instant. A guy I've always seemed to miss in the last twenty years. Out of North London, B. J. Cole. I'd never have guessed the lanky guy on bass, who looked like Richard Branson, was from one of my favourite West Coast pyschedelic bands, Spirit. Mark Andes.
The rest of the band were from Awesome, Texas. Mark Patterson, drums, Stewart Cochran keyboards and one Rick Poss on lead guitar. It was a band to cut right across the geographical miles between Texas and Nashville music. A glorious mix tonight.
Did this band blow. Patterson and Andes flat out, Cochran, sometimes lost in the blazing licks being traded between B. J. Cole and Rick Poss and Lauderdale riding the charge with an emotive, powerful voice. No matter that Lauderdale dropped just about every Nashville name as he introduced each song. "This is one I wrote with . . . etc. etc."
The Borderline audience had him sweating from that first number. Had the band good and fired. There was a brilliant beer can, diesel driven song co-written with Buddy Miller and a pile of others I hadn't a clue to titles of. The whole set was turbo charged. B. J. Cole wired right into it just pulling the kind of licks to rip your heart and head apart.
Kicking stuff, Jim Lauderdale and full on band
If I had a fave tonight it was Lauderdale's introduction to a song he "co-wrote with a guy called Jim Lauderdale and you know I hate name droppers as I was telling John McEnroe the other day . . ." Lauderdale told a great bar story about a line from Sid Griffin's book on Gram Parsons. "Parsons," explained Lauderdale "Would play George Jones records and cry." As one with a healthy respect for George Jones I loved the song. Lauderdale got a call to bring it to a close and the band ended it as they began, the singer strumming time on an acoustic as his songs were being belted along by a killer band.
I may not go out and buy any Jim Lauderdale albums but I'd take my favourite position at the Borderline to see him sing with a band as good as this.
The action now rolled deep from the heart of Texas. Owning Jimmy LaFave albums is one thing. Being just three feet away from him when he pours it out is quite another.
There are those that will ask what is the fuss about Jimmy LaFave. Mostly they are educated scribes or the smart suits that blow in and out of Austin for the annual SXSW bash. They buy their CDs by the armful at Waterloo Records and write reviews in clean sheet motel rooms. They know the price of everything and the value of nothing.
What Jimmy LaFave and the Night Tribe band played tonight was damn special. The Borderline audience really appreciated it. My ears are still ringing today. LaFave said little, save to complain that he'd sang four nights in a row by way of explaining why he was sucking on a cough sweet. How the hell he managed to keep a cough sweet in his mouth and sing at same time astounded me. But he did. And how.
Jimmy LaFave, an intense performance
Someone once said that Muddy Waters was the guy you put on the record player when the night got late and the Frank Sinatra records just wouldn't do. Jimmy LaFave is the midnight in Austin man. Like a bit of Howling Wolf, with a dash of Van Morrison and a soul as big as a Texas sky.
It was futile to keep a set list tonight. Just stand here three feet from the centre mic and let this band and the man in the black shirt and black cowboy boots paint a movie of late night Austin right before your ears. The band didn't have any set lists either. No need. You either feel it or you don't. You can't orchestrate this kind of stuff.
It had been the Night Tribe band behind Jim Lauderdale earlier. Now Rick Poss's lead guitar role was taken by a guy called Robert MacIntyre. Another great Austin guitar player to melt the head. Boy did he shine tonight.
Imagine it, Patterson belting the kind of hard, kicking bass drum whelp that propels LaFave's soul, Andes just cooking, Stewart Cochran blending that gorgeous floating organ and myriad of arpeggios on one side of the stage and MacIntyre just uncorking unbelievable solos on the far side. Like all these great Texas guitar players MacIntyre doesn't waste any bars on superfluous soloing, everything fits the song. Just adds grace and pure raw emotion and head turning runs when and where they are needed. A real head and heart man.
And here's LaFave, eyes closed, strumming an electric Fender, keeping time and singing song after song after song with an intensity. He built a performance from a mid tempo, easy rolling Dylan song Buckets of Rain right up to a glorious blood curdling Neon Night. Cochran and Macintyre rebounding notes between each other in a high pitched climax. Patterson slamming every beat he could find, nailing it dead on, Andes bass stuck to him like glue.
A handful of songs in LaFave announced he wanted to do his favourite Townes song. "Because Townes Van Zandt deserves to be heard, for ever and ever and ever and ever . . .". He tailed the words off from the mic as he strummed the opening chords of Snowin' on Raton.
Ray Wylie Hubbard had encored last year with the song, his version evoking that quiet town on the New Mexico/Colorado border in a delicate elegy to a great songwriter. Ray Wylie's version had both the unique vocals of Slaid Cleaves and Carrie Newcomer to accompany his homage.
It was great tonight to hear another altogether different version. Jimmy LaFave's tribute seemed to channel the whole band right into the central mic. LaFave built it like a preacher raising the pitch of a sermon. He was underpinned by swelling organ, a spot on rhythm section and Robert McIntyre magicking gorgeous guitar chords out of thin air. LaFave's vocal rose and cascaded like a saxophone over the chorus. Truly majestic as the Ray Wylie's version had been.
There may be tapes, who knows, maybe somebody shot a video but the real place to be was but three feet from LaFave when he sang it. I was and I'll treasure it for ever and ever and ever and ever . . .
And I'll have this set in my head for a long, long time. The core of Jimmy LaFave's set came from his latest CD Road Novel, stuff like You'll Never Know, Rambling Sky and a few more songs about lost love and rambling types. My kind of people.
There was also stuff from Austin Skyline like Measuring Words, Desperate Things, One Angel and his gorgeous evocation of Mississippi Highway 61 blues, all hard roads, diesel fuel vocals and dirty juke joint rock'n'roll. Also Walk Away Renee where his voice reaches right down and phrases it like some sermon to the road and a woman. Then there was his marvellous Buffalo Return To The Plains with his vocal gracing the story like the wind on a prairie.
Jimmy LaFave did something called Midnight in Austin which I'm not familiar with but the song painted a picture of a place that is etched deep inside my system. He sang it like some wailing at Midnight Howling Wolf with the band right down there deep in the groove.
Somewhere towards the end of the set Robert MacIntyre blew the fuse out his amp. He'd blown every damn fuse in my head all night. There was much scuttling around and offstage help and good humour before MacIntyre plugged into LaFave's massive amp and the despite the odd bit of feedback the set proceeded to burn high octane fuel. Neon Night closed it as I indicated before. They had to come back and duly did.
Jimmy LaFave, hair still straggled across his face, eyes never open for more than a few minutes between songs tuned in an acoustic. A lady in the audience shouted for "Sweetheart like you". "You want to hear it huh?" asked LaFave. "No she meant you," quipped MacIntyre razor sharp. Much laughter and then LaFave strumming the intro to one of Dylan's most emotive songs that the man from Austin has pretty much made his own.
When LaFave opened up with "Well the pressure's down the boss ain't here, he's gone North for a while" it was as much a testimony to Dylan's depth as a songwriter as to why I regard LaFave with a certain amount of awe. He really sang it tonight, put every last bit of heart he could muster right into every line. As ever for all kinds of reasons that middle verse had me hooked again tonight:
"You've got to make a name for yourself baby
You've got to make some tires squeal
You could be known as the most beautiful woman that ever
Crawled across cut glass to make a deal
You know the news of you came down the line even before you walked in that
door"
Like everyone else who has heard LaFave's recorded version on Buffalo Return To The Plains Rick Poss's lead guitar break is going to be running through their veins but as LaFave's version of Snowin on Raton had differed from Ray Wylie's, MacIntyre added his very own interpretation to this awesome song. I was spellbound.
Never more so when Jimmy LaFave closed it with the Band's The Weight. The Night Tribe band poured their hearts out on it. Cochran doubling notes out of nothing filling the stage with sound. MacIntyre managing to turn his guitar into something that sounded like a cross between Garth Hudson's right hand and Robbie Robertson's left. Unbloody believable guitar solo. Rhythm section setting up Jimmy LaFave's vocal that ran right to the heart of the song.
Dylan's voice may be shot to hell these days, still with spirit but ravaged by age, the Band minus the genius of Manuel pretty much disbanded. Jimmy LaFave and the Night Tribe band are still firing on all cylinders. Damn the trains in this country, sod the weather and bless those who come to enrich our culture with their songs from Austin.
Thankyou.
Mike Plumbley