Reviewed by Paul H Birch, Photos by Rich Ward
Early evening, friendly security lead me towards the reception where I pick up my press passes, but amid my twenty questions they don’t contradict my query about stage times. Thus, while I’m supping ale for half the price that the town hall charge and in a proper glass at that elsewhere, The Zac Schulze Gang are belting out their new millennium brand of working class rhythm and blues.
Main act Samantha Fish is obviously a fan; she had them support last time she played these shores then took them across to Europe with her. Shame. I’d like to have caught their high energy act again. Maybe when they headline themselves later this year. If you like the brute force of Dr Feelgood with the off-the-cuff inspirative guitar force of Rory Gallagher they’re worth checking out.
As it is, we mistakenly think we’re early, viewing the various age ranges and male to female quotas gathered her down in a seat-removed main stalls area; discussing the various acts seen in our youth and where we sat. When from stage left figures walk on stage and there’s a curly-haired blond dressed in black leather; it’s not a case of déjà vu and me recalling a young Michael Schenker performing with UFO. No, this is Samantha Fish herself, and for the first couple of numbers I presume the venue’s closing up shop early tonight and there’s no support.
“Oh, hey, you! How you doing?” she calls out on reaching the microphone stand perched centre stage, then she’s off ploughing through the revved-up garage rock of The MC5’s ‘Kick Out The Jams’. In what’s a fast-paced first-half to her dry, the first guitar solo of the evening’s not long in coming as she’s perched on the edge of the stage tearing lines that take blues as their starting point before rocking heavyily on the white Gibson SG in her hands.
Miss Fish likes guitars. First time I saw her live she seemed to go through enough to fill an orchestra. She also had a horn section. Second time round she leaned to economise here in the original land of the free. Tonight, her tall ponytailed roadie brings on around five guitars. A second white SG, a silver-grey semi-acoustic, a red one, and her infamous box guitar. By my reckoning she rarely played the same guitar twice in a row. Different sounds, different tunings; you musos out there will no doubt tell me.
She’s got the same band as last time, Ron Johnson on bass, Jamie Douglass on drums, and Mickey Finn on keyboards though frankly he’s far too low in the mix tonight. Indeed, my impression is the first few numbers leave something to be desired sound wise, discussing this after the show I’m told differently so I’ll have to put that down to still recovering from a cold (no doubt spread to all those patrons in my vicinity).
Douglas cycles through his kit causing more air movement than British windfarms have seen all year, as they lay into ‘Paper Doll’ the title track to her latest album It’s big, bombastic; slow and heavy, her voice pitched in harmony with her guitar and this time round she takes to the other side of the stage when soloing.
“Oh, Birmingham, how you doing?” she croons in a deep voice, playing with her blond locks (chances are she’s wearing ear monitors), her figure held firm under a black leather waistcoat and matching strides. “Thank y’all for coming out tonight!” she offers in that playful Missouri accent of hers that she retains when singing, adding defining character to her impressive vocal gymnastics, and with red guitar now wrapped round her neck gives mention to The Zac Shulze Gang (thus clarifying time changes and that I did indeed miss them) and tells us she’s going to “play you something off my new album. In fact, there’ll be a more than appetising selection of Paper Doll numbers tonight, this next being opening number ‘I’m Done Runnin’ – It’s simple but hypnotic country blues riff given a funk edge tonight, especially as the band join in, getting both bluesier and rockier as she switches between slide work and speedy lead licks before slowing down things but playing it loud with next number ‘Sweet Southern Sounds’ where when not singing she saunters about the stage, her left leg giving a little dance kick out now and then. Turning to face away from the audience, she catches feedback from her amp controlling it in between furious trills, before facing the crowd once more as disturbing broken chords ring out, and during a second solo she calls out “Come on now!” pacing back and forth across the stage before perching once more at the edge, notes spinning out ever faster until reaching a climax.
The mood is right. The box guitar’s brought on. “Come on, Birmingham!” she implores as deep wails of slide guitar issue forth with the audience raising their hands and clapping along as the emphatically appealing nagging riff to ‘Bulletproof’ strikes out, working into some righteously noisy boogie. The lady herself shaking and stirring as she raps and squeals at turns into both megaphone and standard microphone, shredding guitar between her vocal refrains. Careering about the stage once more, playing slide licks off against Douglass’ beats one minute before soloing o what becomes a hi-energy punk rock fest version of the number, and receiving the expected largest applause of the night thus far come its climax.
Back on a white SG, atmospheric emo-touched voodoo soloing points the way as we wade through the slow psychedelic swamp blues of ‘Fortune Teller’. Like some bayou siren, tired gnarly vocals murmur alluringly down the mic, while her guitar splashes notes of colour in tandem to the flashing of lights that spin out into the audience. Moving into double time, we boogie once more, with heavy wailing blues notes prized out before spluttering to an end in a haze of feedback.
The SG’s replaced by a near identical twin and once more she takes to casually teasing the audience: “You feeling good? You sure? Oh, just checking!” when they reply. “It is a Tuesday. Shake it off – You have a good time!” she continues but before long she’s strutting about the stage once more, then shaking her hips and wearing a smile, singing coyly into the mic that you ‘Better Be Lonely’, its 50s riot girl rock beat shuffled more towards a little country boogie tonight. The first half of Fish’s set has been a taught, driven one, with the last few numbers she’s stretching out more in the manner those who’ve seen her live have become accustomed to.
Asking if we’re “an audience participation type crowd?” she invites the audience to sing along to ‘No Angels’ but it’s her own vocal calisthenics that impress here. With a drum shuffle and a ”1, 2, 3, 4,” count-in she pulls no punches soloing about all over the stage integrating some brazen but funky-with-it boogie. ‘Black Bettie’ is tonight’s only cover and with hi-hat and bass dancing their way through, the silver-grey semi-acoustic in her hands picks out fetching refrains. ‘Rusty Razor’ find us in a return to garage rock, with a strong British Invasion attack by these Yanks. In complete contrast, ‘Don’t Say It’ grooves between liquid gold pinched notes and gently strummed chords over which her fantastic vocal range is much in evidence and we even get to hear Finn play an electric piano solo.
The heavy blues rock of ‘Black Wind Howlin’’ features band introductions. Johnson who’s been but a pace or two in front of his amp all night takes a step to his right as he and Fish play off each other, their interplay Cream-like in its business before he moves back and she heads stage right then leaps in the air as the song comes to its end, and so too her main set. Suffice to say there is lots of applause, egged on by her roadie holding her guitar aloft in one hand centre stage with his back turned as his other reaches out behind cajoling the audience to applaud even more.
“Thank you, Birmingham!” she exclaims on returning to encore, and gets into a conversation about the differences in how they say the city’s name out in Alabama and here in The Midlands, doing a surprisingly good mickey-take. She invites Zac Shulze on stage to join her and the band and as he plugs-in she tells us to put our hands in the air. We get just one encore tonight, but ‘Bitch On The Run’ absolutely rocks, band and audience ending the night on a high.
Setlist:
Kick Out the Jams
Paper Doll
I’m Done Runnin’
Sweet Southern Sounds
Bulletproof
Fortune Teller
Better Be Lonely
No Angels
Poor Black Mattie
Rusty Razor
Don’t Say It
Black Wind Howlin’
Encore:
Bitch on the Run
