| Main Performers | Richie Havens,
Tom Rush - vocals, guitars |
| Orchestra or Band | Steamhammer (Martin Pugh - guitar, Steve Davy - bass, Kieran White - vocal, guitar, harmonica, Mick Bradley - drums, Steve Jolliffe - saxophone, flure, Louis Cennamo - bass) |
| Performance Notes | 'Charisma: a rare kind of animal magnetism, frequently wrongly attributed to popular artists who don't possess it.
One who undoubtedly can lay claim to that quality however, is Richie Havens, the black American singer and guitarist who gave a magnificent concert at the Albert Hall last Friday. A tall man with a strong, kind face and a quietly commanding manner, Havens is blessed with the ability to create an atmosphere in which the audience is totally receptive to his personality. Between numbers he likes to talk to the audience, using a very far-out stream of consciousness technique, shaking his head and murmuring "Whew!" and "Heavy" when some unusual thing occurs to him.
But it's the music that counts, and that is warm, open, and beautiful. He's best on his own songs, and he sang plenty of them at the Albert Hall. They range from the pensive resignation of the one that begins "I get too low for no reason" to the urgent revivalist fire which sparks his adaption of the spiritual 'Sometimes I Feel Like A Motherless Child'.
Havens' dark, firm voice occasionally coarsens round the edges in moments of emotion, and his hard-strummed guitar is brilliantly complemented by the tricky, melodic frills of second guitarist Paul Williams, which are that much more effective for being played on an acoustic instrument. Bassist Eric Oxendine provides a neat and suitably unobtrusive pulse, which is embroidered by the clipped hand-drumming of Joe Price.
Ritchie Havens is a whole new feeling, and to experience him is to experience humanity, compassion, and all the higher emotions.
Padding out the bill were Steamhammer masters of the ordinary (but with a nice drummer Mick Bradley, I think is his name), and Trader Home, a duo featuring ex-Fairport singer Judy Dyble, who were just a little too twee for my taste.' (Richard Williams, Melody Maker, 31 January 1931) |