Nicky Hopkins is one of the greatest musicians that the London rock-renaissance has yet produced. For years he has been a mysterious presence on the records of nearly every major British group. His latest triumphs include the piano bits on the Beatles' "Revolution" and the Stones' forthcoming album "Beggar's Banquet," some tracks of which, reportedly, he virtually dominates. A slim slight man of stooping build, he is shy and gentle. Big glistening eyes and a relaxing smile.
Why did you finally join up with someone?
"I was getting tired of being a studio musician. Some of the stuff I had to play was such rubbish anyway. I chose Jeff Beck because, really, this is the kind of music that I find most satisfying. Rock and blues especially gives me a chance to experiment a little, you know. And Jeff Beck himself is great as a player and it's very interesting doing things with him. Also, I get such a kick out of playing live, the audience reaction thing you know is new to me."
Hopkins and Beck work marvellously together in concert, especially on the long and extended blues solos that will never find their way onto a record in entirety. Not to mention the special thing that Beck and Mick Waller have going. (It is the virtue of the Jeff Beck Group that even within the together sound there is room for special partnerships.) Waller, drumming, is anguished in expression and his hands fly at Jeff's beckoning. Beck stands right by his shoulder watching the drum rallies shake the notes out of his guitar so they slip into the crevices of the beat. Waller too was a studio musician of renown before Beck acquired him, and he too particularly enjoys the freedom and excitement of playing with this group.
And finally Rod Stewart. One of the very rare white blues singers worth listening to, he has some of the soul of Otis Redding, some of the swing of Sam Cooke, and some of the fervor of B. B. King -- all of which add up to make him a worthy performer in his own right. He is supple and responsive on stage and contributes just by his presence to the infectious gaiety of the group.
The Jeff Beck Group doing their great staples "Rock My Plimsoul," "Shapes of Things." Hopkins begins with a solo burst. Beck leads into the vibrant theme lines and then starts screeching from his guitar with his finger slashing. Hopkins' shimmering piano, Waller's hammering beat, Wood on throbbing whipping bass. Music stops and Stewart sings a line.
Beck repeats it deep, and the band is together again in a coherent ball of jarring, flaring sound. Beck takes off once more on guitar careening over into a feedback wail, he stops, scratches twice, Hopkins and Waller supply connecting riffs, Beck plays a horn blast. Amid all this discord, Beck, stroke of genius, does a willowing eddy of tune straight out of B.B. King. An abrupt stop again, Beck thumps the side of his guitar and bounces on his knees, Waller slams down harshly twice, Beck reels off long liquid strings picking up the early song tune. He starts a long uncoiling flourish with flickering electronics breaking the flow. Waller trundles mildly on the drums, Wood plays briefly on bass, Hopkins plunks furiously on piano and Beck is rolling in the background playing what sounds like a 20's melody.
Total silence. Beck is hunched producing a single beep note that gets louder and louder, Waller adjusts his drums, louder and louder and then with a deafening roar the number ends with one crash of a plunging swathe of richly textured sound. It's a good night at the Boston Tea Party.