The age old question whether a white man can sing the blues was answered fairly conclusively at the Space on Niddry Street last night. As the audience flocked in, we were met by The Blueswater band’s frontman and vocalist Felipe Schrieberg, a steel string guitar flat on his lap, softly picking a delta blues tune. Without much further ado, he was singing the Robert Johnson classic ‘Me and the Devil’. This was to be the start of our journey through blues music and so far it sounded pretty damn good.
Schrieberg was keen to provide the audience with context for the genre: its origins, influences and developments. He explained to us the difference between the blues of saints and the blues of songsters. The former is closely tied to gospel, such as Blind Willie Johnson’s ‘John the Revelator’, the latter focuses on women, work and wine.
Even with the inclusion of a blues education, The Blueswater band are more than capable of letting the music do the talking. Every song showcased another aspect of the genre, as enduring as it is enjoyable. Howlin’ Woolf followed Robert Johnson, Elvis came next. Albert King’s ‘Born Under a Bad Sign’ really brought the band into their own, with good old fashioned blues sentiment ringing out in the line ‘If it wasn’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have no luck at all.’
In true tradition, each musician got the opportunity to strut their stuff. Drummer Paul Archibald whipped out a washboard, clattering through his solo with ten tap dancing fingers. David Graves added a feisty trumpet solo to an already resplendent ‘Black Magic Woman’, which also provided a chance for New York guitarist Daniel Halasz to give Santana a run for his money. Felipe had explained to us that women were hugely important in the blues’ history and the singers Vicki Robertson and Anna McDonald proved their importance in its present, too, with their covers of John Mayall and Nina Simone numbers.
As we motored through Stevie Ray Vaughan and The Black Keys and then swung back round to the indomitable Muddy Waters to finish, I found I had not stopped smiling for the whole show. My neighbours kept looking at my foot, possibly (and ineffectually) willing it to stop tapping. ‘Ninety years of blues, 60 minutes to play it’ the blurb explains. I loved every song, but would have perhaps been more satisfied with fewer, longer renditions and, for want of a better term, less breadth and more depth. Knowledge, talent and fervour were undeniable factors of the band nevertheless. For that reason, Blues! and I will meet again before the Fringe is through.
