Clad in a collarless shirt and black leather waistcoat, Mike Whellans strode on stage and opened his set with ‘Cornbread, Peas and Black Molasses’, proceeding into a John Lee Hooker medley and homage to Memphis Slim. This was far from your average blues gig, however. Laughingly introducing us to his imaginary band, Whellans settled onto his stool, took up his guitar, rested his ingenious harmonica frame onto his chest and edged his foot towards his drum and various pedals. A walking musical encyclopaedia and a sitting one man blues band, Whellans took us through a very enjoyable show that more than once defied belief.
Through (perhaps too) frequent anecdotes, Whellans made his extensive musical experience clear. He told us of one of his first gigs as a one man blues band, where two old men at the bar were stubbornly incredulous of his performance. ‘I think he’s cheating,’ one said to the other, ‘he’s probably got a tape recorder stuck up his arse.’Whilst that was never an image that came to mind for me, there were many times in the show where I had to rub my eyes and shake my head. As Whellans twanged through a guitar solo (although perhaps solo is the wrong word), you had to remember he was still drumming all the while. As he made use of his wah-wah pedal, he was also puffing into his harmonica.
His command of the mouth organ was perhaps Whellans’ greatest strength. He recognised this by sometimes opting to stand, mic in one hand and instrument in the other, and plunge into some of the most impressive ‘mouth percussion’ (as he himself described it and I can’t think of a better term) I have ever come across. With beatboxing becoming increasingly commonplace amongst younger musicians, it was a delight to see someone a bit longer in the tooth (sorry, Mike) performing entire songs - drum solos, tongue rolls and all - in that style and with such skill.
