Bert Jansch
>> ABC
>> 26th August 2006
The first thought that strikes me on arriving at the ABC to see Bert Jansch is how much it has changed since I was last here. Admittedly, that was only around16 hours before the doors opened for tonight’s gig, but the transformation is startling. Gone are the hordes of cooler than thou indie rock types throwing crazy shapes beneath the main hall’s legendary monster disco ball, replaced by a much more serene clientele, wearing much less eyeliner. The early birds have bagged seats at white clothed tables adorned with candlesticks and are gazing at the stage expectantly in reverential semi-silence, giving the distinct impression that I have either chanced upon an awards ceremony for the clergy or Santa is coming.
Anyone unfamiliar with Jansch’s status as a folk legend need only look at the long list of musicians who have dropped his name as a major influence on their work, with everyone from Neil Young and Jimmy Page to Johnny Marr and Bernard Butler paying homage to the 40 plus years he has spent crafting his distinctive blend of folk, blues and jazz and building a reputation as one of the most influential and respected figures in modern music.
Taking this into account, it’s a bit like the scene in The Wizard of Oz where the real wizard is revealed when a rather diminutive and bespectacled Jansch ambles on to the stage – you expect someone much bigger and scarier. Without much ado, he launches into first number ‘It Don’t Bother Me’ – introduced simply as “one from my psychedelic days” – and it’s soon plain to see that the deference shown to him is well deserved. The haunting and plaintive vocals are complemented beautifully by the intricate yet seemingly effortless fingerwork and repetitive rhythms of his acoustic guitar playing, which musos have termed ‘folk baroque’ but I prefer to label ‘a bit spooky sounding’.
Nick Drake fans will find much to comfort them in Bert’s mix of doleful singing style and folky melodies, as did Drake himself, another Jansch devotee. However, it’s surely the way in which he bends and blends folk with elements of blues, jazz and rock which has brought him such wide acclaim and recognition. ‘Hey Pretty Girl’ is introduced as “an updated version of one of the oldest folk songs there is”, with Jansch adopting an Americanised Bob Dylanish drawl, while ‘Carnival’ is reminiscent of a more sedate version of the Stones ‘Paint it Black’, albeit without the thumping drums and skinny rock god posturing.
It’s testament to the spell he casts that most of the crowd are too enraptured to notice the bass and drums which occasionally penetrate the set’s quieter moments, courtesy of some young rock upstarts taking to the stage in the ABC2. It’s nearing the end of play before Jansch registers this himself, somewhat bemusedly and sweetly mumbling “some of these noises aren’t coming from me…” Never taking the audience’s adoration for granted, however, he winds things up by thanking everyone for their rapt attention, jokingly yet appreciatively exclaiming “I’ve never known a Glasgow audience to be so quiet!”
True to form, the ABC lot promptly and noisily demand an encore, the highlight of which is “Let Them Sing”, written for Chilean folk and protest singer Victor Jara who was murdered by Pinochet’s men in 1973.
Then Bert is shuffling offstage as quietly as he shuffled on, leaving us with the helpful information that the new album Black Swan, featuring collaborations with trendy folk indie luminaries such as Beth Orton and Devendra Banhart, is out on the “15th of September, no…16th….17th?”
It’s the 18th according to his website, but then maybe he wrote that, so who knows. Best just to stake out Fopp if you’re already an aficionado or fancy finding out what the folk all the fuss is about.
>> AMP
www.bertjansch.com
>> 26th August 2006
The first thought that strikes me on arriving at the ABC to see Bert Jansch is how much it has changed since I was last here. Admittedly, that was only around16 hours before the doors opened for tonight’s gig, but the transformation is startling. Gone are the hordes of cooler than thou indie rock types throwing crazy shapes beneath the main hall’s legendary monster disco ball, replaced by a much more serene clientele, wearing much less eyeliner. The early birds have bagged seats at white clothed tables adorned with candlesticks and are gazing at the stage expectantly in reverential semi-silence, giving the distinct impression that I have either chanced upon an awards ceremony for the clergy or Santa is coming.
Anyone unfamiliar with Jansch’s status as a folk legend need only look at the long list of musicians who have dropped his name as a major influence on their work, with everyone from Neil Young and Jimmy Page to Johnny Marr and Bernard Butler paying homage to the 40 plus years he has spent crafting his distinctive blend of folk, blues and jazz and building a reputation as one of the most influential and respected figures in modern music.
Taking this into account, it’s a bit like the scene in The Wizard of Oz where the real wizard is revealed when a rather diminutive and bespectacled Jansch ambles on to the stage – you expect someone much bigger and scarier. Without much ado, he launches into first number ‘It Don’t Bother Me’ – introduced simply as “one from my psychedelic days” – and it’s soon plain to see that the deference shown to him is well deserved. The haunting and plaintive vocals are complemented beautifully by the intricate yet seemingly effortless fingerwork and repetitive rhythms of his acoustic guitar playing, which musos have termed ‘folk baroque’ but I prefer to label ‘a bit spooky sounding’.
Nick Drake fans will find much to comfort them in Bert’s mix of doleful singing style and folky melodies, as did Drake himself, another Jansch devotee. However, it’s surely the way in which he bends and blends folk with elements of blues, jazz and rock which has brought him such wide acclaim and recognition. ‘Hey Pretty Girl’ is introduced as “an updated version of one of the oldest folk songs there is”, with Jansch adopting an Americanised Bob Dylanish drawl, while ‘Carnival’ is reminiscent of a more sedate version of the Stones ‘Paint it Black’, albeit without the thumping drums and skinny rock god posturing.
It’s testament to the spell he casts that most of the crowd are too enraptured to notice the bass and drums which occasionally penetrate the set’s quieter moments, courtesy of some young rock upstarts taking to the stage in the ABC2. It’s nearing the end of play before Jansch registers this himself, somewhat bemusedly and sweetly mumbling “some of these noises aren’t coming from me…” Never taking the audience’s adoration for granted, however, he winds things up by thanking everyone for their rapt attention, jokingly yet appreciatively exclaiming “I’ve never known a Glasgow audience to be so quiet!”
True to form, the ABC lot promptly and noisily demand an encore, the highlight of which is “Let Them Sing”, written for Chilean folk and protest singer Victor Jara who was murdered by Pinochet’s men in 1973.
Then Bert is shuffling offstage as quietly as he shuffled on, leaving us with the helpful information that the new album Black Swan, featuring collaborations with trendy folk indie luminaries such as Beth Orton and Devendra Banhart, is out on the “15th of September, no…16th….17th?”
It’s the 18th according to his website, but then maybe he wrote that, so who knows. Best just to stake out Fopp if you’re already an aficionado or fancy finding out what the folk all the fuss is about.
>> AMP
www.bertjansch.com
