This
Boston-based band plays like they are trying to sprint a marathon, and it’s
absolutely magnificent to hear these guys work out their love for R&B
smokers. “First I Look at the Purse” leaps for the jugular as the band takes no
prisoners at the opening signal onslaught of Stephen Jo Bladd’s rollercoaster
drumming, and Seth Justman whips up a thunderstorm on shrieking organ. However,
they just toy with your excitement, because Magic Dick jumps in (yes, that’s
his stage name) to kick down the door and demolishes the place with raging
harmonica. Crunching mega-ton choruses pound away as Wolf hammers relentlessly
on vocals, and without a moment’s hesitation, they zoom straight into Otis
Rush’s “Homework.” I’ve heard Peter Green’s Fleetwood Mac do this, but not this
volatile, and this is definitely street-wise schooling from the rough end of
town that can’t be found on any diploma. Wolf and Dick pair
off like two angry cats, J. Geils throws some darts with quick guitar licks,
and Justman spray-paints clouds again on the organ. Hot, hot, hot!
All
Peter Wolf needs is to hear the audience goading him on, and he gives it right
back, tantalizing them: “This is called ‘Take Out Your False Teeth, Momma—I
wanna Suck on Your Gums!’” Justman bangs out piano boogie like Jerry Lee
Lewis and races ahead of every-one as “Pack Fair and Square” hoots and squeals.
Do these guys ever come up for air? It’s not possible, especially when Wolf is
feeling his adrenalin rushes, jabbering on the edge of pure gibberish to signal
Dick’s virtuoso special, Juke Joint Jimmy’s “Whammer Jammer.”
The
audience immediately picks up on the coming storm with handclaps—a hip black
gal beckons “Come on!” to get everyone into the mix, and what follows is a
kaleidoscopic squall by the man “on the lickin’ stick.” The rhythm section is
towed along like a game fish running the line with the hook and bait, and
everyone grinds to a finish when they bring the ending onboard. What a fight!
No time to look back: here comes more boogie, as “Hard Drivin’ Man” is in town
and there’s no brake pedal on this machine. Justman dances wildly on the piano
as Wolf cavorts behind the mic and J. Geils struts on guitar behind Danny
Klein’s bass and Bladd’s thrashing percussion. Wolf lashes the crowd for
yet-more momentum, and the only thing that can stop them now is a brick wall.
They
have that looming dead ahead, and it’s the size of a mountain: John Lee
Hooker’s “Serves You Right To Suffer.” Ghostly, dark organ rises and falls like
a specter in the gloom as Wolf begs for mercy, and Bladd and Klein are framed
against Dick and Justman’s Chicago-style moaning and wailing, mocked by guitar.
There’s room for one more, and Geils comes in with a banshee solo that batters
anything and anyone left standing. However, this band believes in
redemption—they’re already “Cruisin’ for a Love,” and Dick’s cheerful harp
whoops-and-swoops provide forgiveness, followed by an exuberant Geils. Stand
back—the prey is in sight, and like a pack of wild dogs, they give chase in a
classic Canned Heat groove.
The
winner—and they are all first-place champs—is Stephen Bladd, because he runs
away with “Looking for a Love” as his partners carry him off
on their shoulders. Imagine a team of football players doing acrobatics on the
high wire and trapeze while playing some monsoon-style rock ‘n roll, and that’s
how this show ends. It’s all muscle and power, and they come back for a raging
finale—twice!
These guys were the late Bill Graham’s real favorite band at the Fillmore East—it’s right there in his autobiography. When a band plays like they’ve got nitroglycerine in their veins and it’s about to blow, then there’s no doubting that this must have been one helluva show. By the way, I can vouch for them: I saw—honest—U2 open their show in 1982 in Phoenix, AZ. They owned the town that night—just give them the keys to the city and let the music run away with your ears and backbone. You’ll have the nail your furniture to the floor before you finish this CD, but it’s worth every minute of the show. Awwoooooooo!!!!
