Album of the Week
In the trifecta of English guitar greats, Jeff Beck comes in a distant third behind his former Yardbirds alum Eric Clapton and Jimmy Page. His also-ran reputation is, at least in part, his own doing, with the execrable Beck, Bogart & Appice being Exhibit One.
But, beginning in the mid-70's, Beck made a startling career move, eschewing rock heaviosity for an altogether more supple and stylish approach. On albums like Blow By Blow (1975), Wired (1976) and There And Back (1980), the guitarist delved deeply into complex time signatures, sophisticated chord changes and whiplash change-ups that had more to do with the jazz fusion of the day than with his own rock pedigree (Miami Vicester Jan Hammer was a frequent collaborator).
It was a move that cost Beck market share among the rock masses, but afforded him enormous creative freedom to do what he does better than anyone: explore the outer limits of the electric guitar's expressive possibilities. By breaking free of rock and blues strictures he purpose-built a perfect stylistic hybrid, showcasing his incredible fluidity, jaw-dropping ingenuity and a seemingly bottomless bag of sonic effects. One of the great joys of a Beck performance is the sheer abundance of sounds he produces. Any one of the squonks, rumbles and banshee wails he effortlessly throws off could constitute the entire oeuvre of a lesser axeman.
With the release of Performing This Week: Live At Ronnie Scott's, Beck's decades-long strategy of stretching the aural envelope pays off in spectacular fashion. Recorded live at the legendary Soho venue in late '07, it is now available in both CD and DVD formats. Do yourself a favor, get the DVD: part of the fun of watching Beck up close is to see how he coaxes his otherworldly effects from six strings and a relatively simple array of pedals and boxes.
The other visual thrill of Performing This Week: Live at Ronnie Scott's is the presence of Australian bass wunderkind Tal Wilkenfeld. The corkscrew-curled 22 year-old not only provides a startling contrast to Beck's grizzled and rooster-cut mug, her ferocious bass playing makes for some delightful cognitive dissonance, coming as it does from so cherubic a source.
Beck's backing band also includes keyboardist Jason Rebello and drummer Vinnie Colaiuta, both with a fusion resume that includes work with Chick Corea, John McLaughlin and Wayne Shorter. But Beck and his ensemble have little to do with the often-hollow virtuosity of such artists. On tracks like his signature "Beck's Bolero," "Blast From The East," "Space Boogie" and the romping stomping "Led Boots" (a sly send-up, perhaps, of Led Zep's aural excesses), Beck and company tear down the wall between hot rock and cool jazz. It's the clarity and precision of the guitarist's work that anchors the proceedings. Such standout selections as "Big Block," "You Never Know" and "Scatterbrain" are hardly jazz jam sessions. They are, instead, intricate, articulate and exquisitely calibrated compositions built around Beck's intimate feel for his instrument. It's a bravura feat that bears repeated listening. With Jeff Beck, there's always something new to hear.
Performing This Week: Live at Ronnie Scott's also features guest vocalist Joss Stone on a credible "People Get Ready." But an appearance by Imogen Heap delivers real thrills with her original "Blanket." The pair has collaborated previously, most notably on the salacious "Dirty Mind," from Beck's 2001 You Had It Coming. Not since Rod Stewart has Beck backed a singer better suited to the nuances of his style and vice versa. Moody, melancholy and, finally, menacing, "Blanket" is a stellar pairing by two artists who should work together more often. To prove the point Heap returns for a scorching rendition of "Rollin' And Tumblin'" (also heard on You Had It Coming).
Those who might want to better judge Jeff Beck's true place in the pantheon of British guitar greats need look no further than "Little Brown Bird" and "You Need Love," when he is joined on the Ronnie Scott stage by Eric Clapton. The contrast is embarrassingly instructive. Too-often a stolid purist content to merely mimic the masters, Clapton's pro forma performance pales next to Beck's pliant, inventive reimaging of these blues chestnuts. It is, simply put, no contest. Case closed.
