Out of the well-carpeted bar - very cool, very Eurostar terminal - and into the well-carpeted (empty) theatre. As the door opened the familiar open-tuned sound of Terry Reid's acoustic hit my ears - near enough thirty years since the last time - and my nerves all stood up at once and I just grinned. Sadly, this sound check ended after about five seconds. Terry handed his guitar to the sound man who played a couple of notes. Cue for joke - 'What chord was that? H minor? Only kidding.'
I went up and said hello to our star for the night. Said what a great pleasure it was to see him. And it was too - a cheerful, very open Terry. Seeing as there were so many guitars on stage would men from the Lowe band be contributing. 'No, just me,' he said. 'Playing with myself. Ha ha! Sorry. It's an old one.'
He spoke briefly about the town he was born - Bluntisham, coincidentally about five minutes from where I live. He spoke about the regular shows at The Joint. How many great musos drop in - Eric Burdon, for example. Randy Newman - not yet, but there's someone he wouldn't mind seeing. Mentioned Richie Hayward, who he knows, and was moved to sing a snatch of Old Folks' Boogie - 'well you know, you know, you're over the hill when your mind makes a promise that your body can't fill' - which clearly filled him with glee. Made me think of Terry Reid and the Little Feat rhythm section together and what kind of a fine band that might be.
Then I got nabbed by the ticket collector and he went to get changed.
Newly besuited he opened the show again with Without Expression. Voice superb, as strong and full of spirit as ever. The years rolled back. Next a new one of his own - the title he said had changed a few times but it seemed to have settled on Funny What Love Can Do (I think he said). So much syncopation that one bashed and occasionally caressed guitar gave the fragmented impression of a much larger band. A bit of a tightrope-walking job here, taking a lot of chances and risking the odd awkwardness. Worth it,
however.
Then a story about being summoned by the Wilson family to perform at a massed family celebration, and the preceding gastric butterflies. Then off into Don't Worry Baby. Complex, long, altogether beautiful - quite minimal guitar, vocal as smooth as honey on butter. He could have been a Beach Boy, easy. Followed (or did he do it before - maybe I'm getting the order mixed up) by a Frankie Miller song. What a great singer, said Terry. We all know him, don't we? Well, I don't know how many of this particular audience knew him.
The song was a new one - Miller sent Terry a tape of compositions and this is the one he chose. Can't remember the title I'm afraid. Pretty chunky song. The funny thing was to hear Terry using an authentic Frankie Miller voice. Rougher, regular, more gravel in it.
What now, he said. Something from River! shouted someone. How about Seed Of Memory? For me, this was the high point of the 40 minute set - sung with huge feeling and artistry, plus a certain amount of thump. Unbelievably evocative and poignant. And done with full serious intent. Again it seemsjust amazing that one fellow can carry so much music and feeling in (or through) himself.
Finally Old Friends, the Paul Simon song. Not a bad choice to close, played straight, short and simple. A big round of applause - no encore unfortunately.
Well, well. I think that's it - I didn't take any notes and I hope I haven't confused the order or missed a song out. But so happy to report what a great musician Terry Reid still is. A lot of singers go tough and stringy when middle age hits, but he can still sound as open, vulnerable and tender as hedid in his youth. Great to hear it. I hope he comes back soon.
