THE STAGE at the Boston Tea
In art as in all else, there is no substitute for sheer funky skill. Beck has total mastery over his guitar, in his compulsive feel for its electronic vagaries, in his loving use of the guitar's 'dead' parts (sometimes he slaps the strings with open palms in time to the drums), in his deep relishing gulps of its fertile string area.
Beck on guitar reminds me of Kanhai batting--there is the same sense of a man sniffing out incredible possibilities and instantly realizing them. His guitar produces the sounds of many other instruments: sometimes it is a percussion instrument rapping out the beat while the drums fly elsewhere as they often do, sometimes Beck sounds like John Handy blowing high-pitched squeals out of his sax, sometimes Beck's guitar sounds like a piano, a bell, and once, unforgettably, a wailing harp (on 'Shapes of things').
ONE MAY QUESTION the value of such mimicry--might it not have been just as good and less pretentious to have actually used a piano, bells, etc. instead of reproducing them by guitar? The answer is of course that the electric guitar is to rock-blues music what the violin is to classical music--the supreme voice of the medium.
This deliberate use of the guitar as the major element of the music helps to explain the tremendous excitement that the Jeff Beck Group generates at every public performance--from the Fill-more East to the Boston Tea Party and now probably in Detroit, audiences are left at the end of the show shredded and near-hysterical. Another reason for this audience appeal is the Group's steaming physical presence on stage, its sense of togetherness as a unit, and its musical cohesion creating an unadulterated rolling, weaving ball of sound.
Rod Stewart lifts the mike, stand and all, the tripod legs slant in the air and his body is bent double over it, singing he glances happily over the stage. Jeff Beck in a black ruffled shirt knees slightly bent, perfectly balanced though, finishes his rifls with a triumphant index finger high over his head. He 'plays' a long beep and then a long deep wavering note. Stewart sings slow blues style, "My baby, she knows how to spread her wings." Subterrenean thoughts of rolling thighs float around. Jeff Beck and Ron Wood exchange looks and laugh. Mick Waller keeps slashing at the drums, putting out his sharp rattling rumble. One forgets about the Boston Tea Party's light show, completely absorbed in the actors. Stewart points at Beck saying, 'Just look at him, look at him go'. Jeff Beck is hovering over the drums at Waller's shoulder inserting notes in flourishes between the crevices of the beat. When he speeds up the tempo Waller has an anguished look as he slithers on the cymbals and stabs at the drums, as if in the grip of some force outside himself.
EARLIER THAT DAY Waller lounged on his hotel bed, fiddling with the volume controls on a radio tuned into WBCN. He is quiet, sensitive, faintly pleased. "What do you think of American white rock, Country Joe, the Grateful Bead?". "A bit tame isn't it?" and one suddenly realized that he was right. Waller said he thought English groups were so much more aggressive and alive, able to pick up the mantle from the great black blues and rock musicians of the past because their members are all from the same particularly troubled English generation that was born during and just after World War II.
Mick Waller was one of London's top sessions musicians before he joined the Jeff Beck Group, and played in particular with the Stones (he owned up to being the bongo drums in 'Jumping Jack Flash). He predicts, "the Stones will stand the test of time better than the Beatles. They're much simpler, you know, and they say a lot more than the Beatles with their highly contrived messages. Its just like Dylan, he can say in a few words what it would take Janis Ian a whole song to get at. I've only recently begun to listen to Dylan's songs closely and they're very literate. Like Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat. its comic and intelligent. very good as literature." All this delivered in the soft slurring curiously exciting working-class London accent.
They're much like the blacks these tough young Londoners, with their rhythmic, expressive language, and of course they play music like only the best of the 'soul brothers' can--Jimi Hendrix, say, who jammed effortlessly and beautifully with the Jeff Beck Group in New York.
Waller rapped for hours about psychology, linguistics, (did you know that the Russian word for wolf is the same as the German one for people?) and American society (its schizophrenic. the phones ring too softly and the police sirens are too loud. in England its all very level).
Jeff Beck didn't come in till nearly showtime, and was in no mood to talk.
THE GROUP IS PULSING now, late in the last set. Jeff Beck draws out a burr till it nearly grates and follows it with a melodious burst. Doing 'Beck's Boogey' he comes swiftly down the frets pausing only to pluck a little at each stop, then he goes into the theme which sounds a little like 'Yankee Doodle' stops midway through with finger raised, and resumes the plucking with the drums still beating. Near the end of the number he finally completes the theme--it still sounds like 'Yankee Doodle' but it's brilliant, an improvisation worthy of the best jazz musicians. Into 'Silver Lining' now and Beck has a singing, singing guitar, Rod Stewart itching and arching with a tambourine. Beck does more--a rich screeching, waves of unearthly sound over and over, soulful wails. The fired crowd howls for more. Somebody shouts for 'Train' which is what the Yardbirds were doing in 'Blow-Up'. Beck looks at Waller taking up the challenge and they invent a melody to be called from now on 'Train'. The sound of the tracks on wheels, the howl of the whistle, the engine, and the train and its heavy coaches...all on guitar, drums and bass. The drums go quiet, the train chugs to a start. Beck blares once, twice, thrice, Waller plays on his tom-toms and then the roar of the engine, gears clashing, wheels performing, the miles flying, The Boston Tea Party light squad flashes a picture of a locomotive on the main wall, a picture of Bismark on the right wall and its all perfect. The show is over.
(A word here about the Boston Tea Party, which is a fine organization run by the Hippie Establishment, and has intelligent light shows and sensible facilities)
DRIVING BACK to the hotel after the gig Rod Stewart is hoarse and happy. "You have to jump around like I do to get the kids jumping too. Look at the other group they just stood there. They were playing too complicated, too static, very difficult to get that off the ground." He turned to Waller "I really like it when you tap on the snare and do the tom-tom at the same time. Its really deep you know what I mean." Again the bewitching London accent.
Later that night at a party given by two Cliffies, Jeff Beck was more approachable. He seemed like an intelligent sober young man and, I feel, enough of a personality to carry off greatness with grace should he achieve it. He should. He said he thought American audiences were more emotional than British ones and found this gratifying, "In England, you feel like you're on trial every time you appear and they will never accept you without reservations."
Asked which other groups he respected he said he respected everybody. "If I could I would have the radio on all day." He was bitter about gimmickry (the Jeff Beck Group's first album just out on Epic, is called 'Truth' because the Group feels that it is an honest album with no tricks.) He ridiculed the Beatles' experiments with sitar music "You know how long it takes to learn that instrument? 7 years. and there's the master who's 50 and still learning."
He wouldn't talk about why he left the Yard-birds except to say that he wanted to make different music, but apparently it was a peaceful seperation.
He is very humble about the music he is making and constantly refers, as all the members of the Group do, to the great blues singes like B.B. King, and to their power to move those who listened to them. While acknowledging the effectiveness of their own personal appearances Beck did not feel that they might not come through as well on recording.
I fear however that no record can capture their sensual hammering music. At the end of their performance, Rod Stewart said "We're sorry to leave, but we'll come back to play here in September." Forget it fellas. Next time the Jeff Beck Group comes to this country they'll be playing in Los Angeles in a stadium that seats 100,000. Bye-Bye.
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