Reviews
MUSIC
Toots and the Maytals
ABC, Glasgow
JJJJ
Frederick “Toots” Hibbert practices good vibes as much as he preaches them through the music of his now 55 yearsyoung Jamaican ensemble Toots and the Maytals – literally the group to give reggae its name with their 1968 single Do the Reggay. After being hit in the head with a glass bottle at a show in the US in 2013 – causinghimseriousinjuryand forcing him to cease touring for a long spell – the 74-yearold nobly tried in vain to get his assailant’s jail sentence reduced by writing to the judge to say: “He is a young man, and I have heard what happens to young men in jail.”
A jail stint of his own as a young man is the subject of one of Hibbert’s most famous songs, 54-46 That’s My Number. It made for a rousing finale to this consummately feelgood show packed with hits. Now fighting fit again, Hibbert looked in great shape dressed in a black bandana and sunglasses at the head of a five-piece band that featured other original members including drummer Paul Douglas and guitarist Radcliffe “Dougie” Bryan. Hibbert’s distinctively soulful voice – supported by close harmonies from three female backing vocalists – remains a powerful instrument, capable of transcending genres as it tore into covers of The Kingsmen’s Louie Louie and John Denver’s Country Road.
Toots and the Maytals scarcely need covers when their iconic originals are so numerous – Pressure Drop, Funky Kingston, Monkey Man and Sweet and Dandy to name just a handful performed here. The sea of audience members’ heads bobbing up and down in a massive group skank by the end was a joyous sight to behold.
MALCOLM JACK
MUSIC
Alicia Witt & Paul Carella
Stereo, Glasgow
You may know Alicia Witt from such TV shows as Twin Peaks, The Walking Dead and Nashville, but the latter gives a clue to her alternative profession as a singer/songwriter, while Twin Peaks allowed her to show off her classical piano training at the age of 14.
Her first trip to Scotland came courtesy of her newly forged musical alliance with Glaswegian guitarist Paul Carella, which took the form of an informal to-andfro between Witt’s piano pop compositions with occasional pre-recorded embellishments and Carella’s guitar-led acoustic blues and roots rock which often sounded more American than the American with whom he was sharing the stage, especially when she had an actorly stab at the local accent.
There is a natural fluency to Witt’s singing, reminiscent of the light country pop touch of Gretchen Peters and Beth Nielsen Chapman and, on Still Sorry, of the classic aching balladry of Carole King. Her playing was deliberately quite strident at times, like she was bashing out a tune in a wild west saloon, but she showed off her jazzy flourishes accompanying Carella on his Red Sole Woman and providing unsettling discordant backing to her dark rendition of Paul Simon’s You Can Call Me Al. Of her own songs, the instant earworm of Younger was the one with most crossover potential.
Witt and Carella are not (yet) a slick partnership but the contrast in their styles and the off-the-cuff charm of their back-and-forth gave the twohour show more dynamism than they could have hoped for across solo sets.
FIONA SHEPHERD
MUSIC Prom 14: BBC SSO & John Wilson
Prom 16: BBC SSO & Ilan Volkov
Royal Albert Hall, London
In a couple of weeks’ time, the BBC SSO is back at the BBC Proms with some heavy duty repertoire by Mahler and Rachmaninov. But for its first visit this year – two concerts under John Wilson and Ilan Volkov respectively – the mix was more subtle and intriguing: a combination of eclecticism, populism, discovery and rediscovery.
The composer content ranged from Holst and Mussorgsky to Liszt and Vaughan Williams, with the creative contemporary voice of 50-year-old Julian Anderson thrown in for good measure. Just as interesting were the distinctive responses from the orchestra under two very different conductors. On paper, Wilson’s programme was a touch eccentric, combining the tough soundscapes and intellectual coolness of Vaughan Williams’ Ninth and final symphony with a score we’d all claim to know backwards, Holst’s astronomical delight The Planets. But the outcome was far from predictable, and endlessly fascinating.
Wilson found a refreshing clarity and purpose in the Vaughan Williams, the gentleman next to me claiming it was infinitely superior to the original premiere performance he had witnessed in 1958. Sure enough, there was an inner heat so often missed, which Wilson generated through his
insistent control of colour and dynamic.
It’s what he does well in the Hollywood repertoire he is best known for, but by transferring that approach to this symphony, its true personality came alive. There was molten intensity at the start, a softening of hue by the mellow flugelhorn in the andante, sardonic mischief in the Shostakovich-like scherzo where the trio of saxophones mark their pungent presence, and a truly mystical beauty in the final andante.
Wilson’s interpretation of the Holst was no less informative. Again, the orchestral palate seemed to preoccupy him, as if cleaning up an old master.
Details surfaced that often lie unnoticed - the thrilling organ glissando in “Uranus”, for instance – and the final fadeout by the CBSO Youth Chorus was utterly magical.
That said, Wilson’s performances didn’t always possess the same wholly comfortable, full-blooded orchestral response that Volkov’s inspired. Take the two Liszt symphonic poems, Hamlet and From the Cradle to the Grave, both receiving their first Proms’ performances. From the feverish psychological torment of the former to the all-embracing universal mysticism of the latter, Volkov probed deeply and convincingly.
So, too, his reading of Mussorgsky’s (Ravel-orchestrated) Pictures at an Exhibition did exactly what it says in the tin, serving up electrifying auditory translations of the original visual stimuli.
At the heart of Volkov’s programme, the premiere of Anderson’s piano concerto The Imaginary Museum, with Steven Osborne as soloist, bore equal translucence and fascination. Inspired by evocative images – “Janacek’s Wells”, “Sea” and “Forest Murmurs” are among the six movement titles – Anderson creates a concerto in which the pianist is variously protagonist and commentator. The wonderful moment where Osborne’s part was shadowed by synthesised prepared piano, or where the harpist employed a food whisk, summed up the many original colours that tickle the ears in this highly illuminating work.