Review: Barrence Whitfield and the Savages

There’s been a bit of a brouhaha about the (not so) soon come arena, but seasoned gig fiends are aware that Temple Meads already has a first class venue. Yes brothers and sisters, I do mean the Tunnels. They continue to delight with their booking policy and brought the mighty Barrence Whitfield and the Savages to town for a stop on their tour to promote latest recording Under the Savage Sky.

Before the main event, we had the small matter of the support act. Now one of the delights of smaller gigs is that we often have the pleasure of seeing a great local act – for instance Rita Lynch supporting the Saints or John E Vistic with the Sonics – and the tradition continued with a fine set from the Bad Losers. The band played a sharp set of originals, mostly from their current LP Easy, and were very warmly received by the crowd. Their sound is reminiscent of sixties beat bands – just at the time when they discovered straight R ‘n’ B was a lot more fun if you psychedelisized the tunes. Broken guitar stings didn’t stop them and the LP is chock-a-block with earworms, so get yourself an early freakbeat Chrimble gift and buy the album, ideally at their next gig – they deserve your support.

Headliners the Savages have returned with an LP easily the match of previous recording Dig Thy Savage Soul, and that was a belter. The set featured the new stuff heavily – and rightly so, it’s strong material: opening cut The Wolf Pack meant that new fans got to hear the full on Whitfield wail early and The Claw had the crowd bopping like mad. Plenty of room for old favourites too, Willie Meehan saw Whitfield shadow boxing his way through the tune as the band whipped up a storm. His banter was on form as usual, discussion of what makes a man leaving the crowd in stitches and his revelation that he’d “brought his fur gloves for the ladies” led to much ribald comment in the crowd.

As usual the band had smuggled weapons grade rhythm and blues through customs. They were on fire throughout the set; we witnessed raw rock n roll evolution in action as Peter Greenberg’s guitar engaged in a survival of the fittest battle with Tom Quartulli’s saxophone, both guys supplying stinging leads, often during the same song. Greenburg’s riffs drove the tunes along and whatever the pace of the tunes, the rhythm section (Phil “Mr. Tenacious” Lenker on bass and Andy Jody on drums) stayed in the pocket with pounding yet groovy precision. Quartulli surely earned the accolade of coolest musician on stage, however, when he disappeared backstage, returned with a pint, sank half of it then stepped up to take a solo dead on the mark. Good work fella.

A smattering of soul covers showed the band isn’t a one trick pony and they sealed their punk-soul credentials with a final encore of the MC5’s Ramblin’ Rose. If you weren’t there, then you need to be next time – your ears and dancin’ feet will thank you for it sevenfold.

Photo credit: John Morgan

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