… relax, gentle reader. Woody is alive, fit and well: that’s ‘late’ as in ‘punctuality’. A splendid time was had by all last week at the official launch of Mr Beck’s Rock’N'Roll Party DVD (with accompanying audio CD, natch), held at the British Music Experience, which is housed in what appears to be a gigantic breast implant somewhere not unadjacent to North Greenwich.
The term ‘launch’ does double duty here, since the assembled revellers were shipped from Westminster Pier by a rivergoing conveyance, and very lovely the night ride was, too. Departure was set for 7pm … but at ten past, we were all still in situ whilst Mr Wood, clutching his mobile, conducted urgent negotiations with the crew. It appeared that the current Love Of His Life had, by some mischance, assembled all by herself at the London Eye’s pier. Thus it was that a small diversion was undertaken to collect her. Once reunited with her paramour, she was revealed to be (a) very attractive indeed, (b) not Russian and (c) not twelve years old. Things are looking up for Honest Ron, our favourite Cheeky Chappie!
The festivities, once they commenced, were spectacular. Hosted by Mr Beck’s manager, Harvey Goldsmith, they involved a giant screen on which an edited version of the DVD would be shown – ‘edited’ because the entire show runs well over two-and-a-half hours, not counting extras and bonus features – and banqueting tables positively groaning with refreshments. It seemed wholly appropriate that one of the supplied beers was – you guessed it – Beck’s.
Eventually it was showtime … or was it? Harvey G stepped up to the mic and spoke … and spoke … and spoke. Finally, he confessed that he was vamping for time because Woody had stepped out for a cig and they didn’t want to press ‘play’ until he was back …
The show itself was wonderful, combining a trawl through Mr B’s earliest musical influences with an extended tribute to the late Les Paul. Shot live at Iridium, the Manhattan jazz bar where the Great Man had played almost every Monday night for the last decade of his life, it co-stars the wonderful Imelda May and her band, led by guitarist/singer Darrel Higham (who also happens to be her husband) and additional guest performers including that old Stray Cat Brian Setzer (giving it some serious Eddie Cochran) and Gary US Bonds (rocking his classic hit New Orleans). JB himself – sporting a very groovy leather jacket at the party, incidentally – serves as much as host as star, letting the songs (including a sensational Cry Me A River and a roaring, brassy Peter Gunn) be the stars, and spotlighting a heaping handful of Les Paul & Mary Ford classics, of which the standouts were a sophistimacated How High The Moon and a gloriously kitschy Tiger Rag, which Ms May positively ate off a stick.
Later, in conversation with Mr Beck and Paul Jones, I found myself reflecting that, back in 1965 when I was but a kiddy and my favourite bands included The Yardbirds and Manfred Mann (alongside The Beatles, the Stones, The Who, The Kinks and The Animals), having a cordial chat to those two gents would have been a lifetime highlight. Even now it was pretty damn good.
Jeff and Harvey appear to be the perfect combination. Unless, of course, Harvey attempts to play the guitar or Jeff tries to organise something …
These pix, incidentally, were nicked from the magnificent Madam Miaow.
… as I realised when trying to come up with a non-tasteless headline for this post. Ever since the idea for reuniting Blast Furnace & The Heatwaves (the Lost Princes Of Punk Blues) came up last summer, leading to a semi-riotous show in Scarborough, we also planned to make our first new record since …ummmm …since … was it REALLY 1978?
