cNutgroist

Mr Brian Auger, how I love your sweet, fruity Hammond sound. It packs a fat chordal punch which you volley to us with a grin whilst we lap it up,  heads bobbing as one. The chaps standing at your feet stare transfixed at your fingers, like balding jockey sluts. The guys in the middle of the floor throw a few shapes and stare at your not unappealing daughter, singing the blues, the soul and the funk with a huge set of lungs. We all drool at how tight the rhythm section is, especially your young son battering the drums into funked submission. And through it all your Hammond squirts out juicy shots of funk, delivering a punchy vocalised Freedom Jazz Dance, a taut Brain Damage, a jazzy Compared to What, a lazy Light my Fire and a totally glorious, majestic Season of the Witch. And then you take Bumpin' on Sunset for a 15 minute trip where everyone gets a couple of solos and we all draw breath as your right-hand runs build and build and build. Nobody would play a piano like this - only the B3 can bring that out of a keyboard player. I can hear early Santana jams, Jimmy Smith, Groove Holmes et al but more importantly, I remember back when I was a young 'un and the jazz-funk craze briefly revived. I thought Corduroy, Mother Earth, Jamiroquai,  even Appleseed and all the also-rans were great at the time but of course their music was pure contrivance since it was never really about anything. Just a general 'hey, have a good time'. Your stuff just cuts right through the noodling and the posing in a floppy hat. Every note is vital, like it should be. All 3 of Dublin's souljazz boys turned up tonight, a selection of middle-aged guys stroking goatees down to fluff and a couple of wannabe mods (which is all mods now, I suppose) fleshed out the crowd. But come back soon and play Wheels on Fire next time, alright?



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