Snakes on the Stage - Rockin The Social

Snakes, Snakeoil Rattlers, and a folky Scouse sentimentalist shared the bill at What’s Cookin' on Saturday night. It was an even wackier night than usual at Stephen Ferguson’s roots music showcase. Obviously things festive were bound to feature, and in any case a bevvied up audience’s ability to sort the pearls from the swine is always limited. That said there were real turkeys and some total barnstorming brilliance at the ex-Ex-Servicemen’s Club in Leytonstone, East London. Now fashioning itself as ‘The Social’, this century old treasure is an excellent venue for things musical and things affordable in the booze department. In fact ‘The Social’ is a welcome relief from the veritable orgy of bourgeois bacchanalian bullshit on offer at surrounding denizens of winter wankerdom.

Things kicked off at 730pm on the dot when Stephen threw the first of several celebrations of 1977-79 on to his turntable and no less a punk than Joe Walsh reminded us that ‘Life’s Been Good’ so far. Well maybe it hasn’t been for that many of the audience, but who cared. We haven’t had that spirit here since, well, 1978, and it sounded fuggin A. I have to say though, Stephen, that keeping it so cranked up before the bands had hit the stage and when older folks were just trying to chat whilst supping their beers was a challenge for those less hearing-enhanced than younger punters (if there were any).

This was a mere detail though cos by 8pm Danny Jones was on. Bald, and bearing a loud shirt and an acoustic guitar, the man started well, performing the, admittedly tad maudlin, ‘Maggie Mae’ (not that one). A great Liverpudlian folk tune for sure and he does this stuff well. Danny then did a decent, emotionally engaged cover of Paul Simon’s ‘Slip Sliding Away’. Perhaps uncomfortable with the intimacy, he suddenly donned his Everton FC Santa hat (blue, natch) and proceeded to play a couple of Christmas-themed ditties that sounded like utter stuff and nonsense to me. Having plumbed those undesirable depths, Danny then proceeded, admittedly half-embarrassedly, to inform us that he was about to bless us with a Chris De Burgh song. It's not ‘The Lady in Red’, he said. ‘Shame,’ said my friend, audibly. After all, if things were going to be bad then we might as well embrace the full horror, horns and all. It was though that other gooey song by the diminutive songster; the one that conjures up preferably forgotten Christmasses of childhood yore when you carried a candle to bed, but not for midnight self-pleasuring.

Danny Jones at What's Cookin', Leytonstone

Danny finished up his set with a very different number that was self-penned and heartfelt. Sadly though, I’d already switched off after an excess of the ‘La lah la, lah-la lah-dee-dah’ singalong-a- chorus on the De Burgh number, and didn’t fully appreciate that Danny had performed by far his best number of the night.

Before long the first of two Snake-orientated dirty southern rock swaggerers were on the boards. The Snakeoil Rattlers, like the headlining Snakes, make a good fist of their imagined American musical heritage. In fact I reckon the lead singer of the Rattlers, he replete with Lemmy-style black cowboy hat but with tinsel, is an Aussie. Either way he certainly had the grizzled ol’ southern greebo rock schtick thing going on. Not nature’s best voice, but it kind of worked for most of the material. The, by definition, seated steel guitarist took a more measured hand in occasional lead vocal duties, which broadened the band's musical reach. On bass was, well, possibly a graduate of the Sid Vicious school of rhythm discipline, only with a lot less power. Next to him was John O'Sullivan, the link man of the night’s Snakery, a bassist/rhythm guitarist whose whole look (long-haired and balding) and musical demeanour spelt fun; and he definitely was having it. In fact at times it seemed like The Snakeoil Rattlers were just having their own thing going on on the stage almost regardless of the audience.

The Snakeoil Rattlers @WhatsCookin, Leytonstone

The Rattlers feat. steel guitar

Of the numbers whose titles I could almost make out there was (possibly) ‘Johnny Got Shot by a UFO’ (if that isn’t a song title of their’s, it should be). There was an out there rock n' roll/country thing happening with these guys - to the extent that on one number they sounded like The New York Dolls do Country. Things though took an unwelcome turn when Eddy and the Hot Rods’ ‘Do Anything You Wanna Do’ was pretty much slaughtered. Not that the audience seemed bothered; a fair few had the signature hand-claps of this (non) punk classic off to a ‘T’. The lead singer managed, as my friend put it, to sing every note flat. Still, undimmed, and with the audience’s ongoing blessing, the boys then dusted off that annually overcooked if not seriously burnt festive offering, Slade’s ‘Merry Christmas Everybody’; O'Sullivan replete with proffered Noddy-style hat (not that one, unfortunately). I’ve always hated Slade and if I never hear their Christmas song again it’ll be once too often.

At last The Snakes themselves were on stage. When I say ‘stage’ I mean that in the wonderfully egalitarian nature of the ex-ex-servicemen’s club, one end of the top floor room is where the musicians do their thing, surrounded, as you can see, by owls and colourful adornments that are pretty much the venue’s routine display all year round.

The Snakes gettin it on @What'sCookin'

The Snakes were exuding something dirty rock n roll before they’d played a note. I’d spotted the cape-wearing lead guitarist earlier – think an effete Dylan circa The Rolling Thunder Review show. The front man (and guitarist) was more yer archetypal Americana dude; big and grizzly and sporting a cap, lumberjack shirt and denim jacket. His vocals were definitely more present than those of his predecessor. The drummer played his heart (and arms) out. I was hearing southern rock thru the prism of the Stones’ ‘Exile’ period, though the Snakes’ promo material also mentions that Mink Deville is in the mix.

Snake pit boogie

There was one sublime wigged-out moment when the minimalist rock instrumentation just wouldn’t relent and I just didn’t want it to. Kinda like a Byrds’ space rock jam but grittier and without the space. In the bogs I distinctly heard one of the band announce that ‘If you’ve got any heroin, now’s the time to take it.’ Droll and kinda appropriate. There was then a number whose title sounded like ‘Turn Back the Clock’, which is pretty much what these boys do, as reflected in an apparent band signature tune: ‘The Last Days of Rock n’ Roll’. I was pleased that this wasn’t the finale because this isn't how rock n' roll’s last days should be spent at all. It sounded to me like a discarded number from the Ziggy Stardust era, which I guess could be taken as a massive compliment. It’s not meant to be. 

John O'Sullivan kept us entertained with his between numbers banter. He noted at one point that The Snakes had done three albums… in 50 years... and that the upcoming song was ‘from the middle one.’ It's 'a blues’ John said; a style, he gnomically observed, that's hard to play. Another notable song introduction was 'If The Snakes had had a hit' – and he noted that they haven’t – ‘then this would not be it.’ The Snakes were then off but were back on again in a flash. An encore was never in doubt and they served up a couple more good dirty rockin’ dishes to send the rightly satisfied punters home. It had been a great, if occasionally patchy, night.

What’s Cookin' is almost a musical institution, and Mr Ferguson and all of the musicians that play under his umbrella – in Leytonstone and other proximate venues – need to be lauded and supported. Check him and them out.

 

Les Johnson and Me Live at Leytonstone What's Cookin'

‘Les Johnson and Me’ are a six piece, part rockabilly, part country, Scottish cum American roots music band. They played last Wednesday night at What’s Cookin’, one of the most exciting music happenings in the UK. It can be found most Saturday and Wednesday nights at the Leytonstone Ex-Servicemen’s Club in north-east London, and Sundays at the Union Chapel, N1.

“Les” is a 54 year old sharp-dressed crooner, pencil thin with dark baritone voice. Highly personable, he told me after the gig that he has been doing this for 7 years; he started when he was 47. His day job, he says, is running a Glaswegian charity. He and his band are a treasure. Check out the wonderfully named “Hitting the Small Time Big” via the band’s website. Listening to it again I get the Jim Reeves comparison that his website invites you to make. Especially if you imagine a previously unreleased Jim Reeves' track on a soundtrack to a Quentin Tarentino film not yet made. “Break My Heart”, also available to listen to, made me cry on hearing it again.

On the night “Les” (he did tell me his real name, but I had one too many Guinesses that evening) performed all his own songs with one exception, a totally unexpected cover of “Senor”. This was possibly the least successful performance of his set, but it still thrilled. It’s taken from what Les rightly described as a much underrated Dylan album, “Street Legal”.

Les’ band are, as I understand it, essentially the Shiverin’ Sheiks (also on Holy Smokes Records), who are more or less the same things as The Strange Blue Dreams…I think. Of particular note was the southern-fried lead guitar player, and the double bassist. Les and the young female backing singer dropped out after the interval; the rhythm guitarist took over vocal duties, a mandolin player was added, and The Strange Blue Dreams were born.

The Dreams had a more mannered take on their shared musical roots, slicker in a sense, but somehow less effecting. The singer is a talented guy, but he could not quite command the same amount of attention. Perhaps it’s an age thing, i.e. mine and many members of the audience. You’d probably be more likely to dance to the Dreams and more likely to weep into your beer to Les. As I get older it’s the weepers that get me.

John Martyn’s “Spencer the Rover” (Live at the Brewery Arts Club version); Shirley Bassey’s cover of “And I Love Her So” (from Live at Carnegie Hall) and Judy Garland’s version of “Smile” (as performed on the Ed Sullivan show) are right up there. Not that there’s anything wrong with dancing. When the Dreams were on stage, Les and his backing singer pulled some fancy moves, as did a lady from the audience who, sadly, was the only actual punter to tread the boards on this occasion.

Stephen and Ali Ferguson continue to present roots musical gems. I sure as hell wish I’d bought Les’ latest CD, “15 Hands”, on the night, but even better would be for Stephen to get someone to record some of these performances for a What’s Cookin’ “Live in Leytonstone” CD. He could have a classic in the making.

Truckstop Cowboys at the Ex-Servicemen's Club

Don Gallardo and Stuart Bond opened What’s Cookin’ on July 9. It was my 50^th birthday. A prime seat in the middle of a large room with a stage at one end and a bar at the other, what was there not to like? The stage was bathed in bordello pink and bedecked with what looked like old illuminated plastic Christmas trees. Polystyrene tiles topped off the ceiling. It was my kind of place.

The venue was upstairs at The Leytonstone Ex-Servicemen’s Club in East London. The gig was part of What’s Cookin’, a bi-weekly showcase of acts often labouring under the moniker “Americana”. It often means country, but not necessarily. At What’s Cookin’ it could equally mean swamp boogie or rock ‘n soul. To be fair, the organisers don’t call it Americana. It’s one of those annoying, catch-all, meaningless labels, just like “World Music”. (Have you ever heard a World Music dj play The Beatles or Bob Marley? Yet they were truly global acts whose songs reflected their (and others’) “roots”.)

Don, and his sidekick for this particular gig Stuart, were strong-voiced, emotionally engaging and played well. This was country straight out of Nashville, minus the western; although they were sporting 10 gallon hats. I was seriously impressed, with the music and the hats.

After a suitable break for more liquid refreshment - the birthday pints were piling up - a married Kansas-based duo, Truckstop Honeymoon, took to the stage. Originally from New Orleans, when Hurricane Katrina hit they relocated. At first the skinny, hippy-haired, dude on banjo and his bespectacled double bass-playing wife didn’t lift the audience like the previous act. But then, somehow, his spoken routine, and the quality of their performance, made me and assorted other revelers warm to them….a lot.

Perhaps these gigs are hard to judge objectively. They take place in a bar and there is no price of admittance (although a bucket is, rightly, passed around).

This though was my fourth outing to a What’s Cookin’ event. I have not yet been disappointed with the quality of the North American or North American-style acts that Stephen Ferguson, the organiser, attracts.

This Sunday (20 July) from midday he’ll be showcasing a whole day of it in Henry Reynolds Gardens as part of the Leytonstone Festival. I’ll be there.