DR. LONNIE SMITH at RONNIE SCOTT'S CLUB, LONDON

Forty five years after leaving Blue Note, the greatest living proponent of the Hammond B3 organ, Dr Lonnie Smith, is back on the label and in London to promote his new album, Evolution, at Ronnie Scott’s.

During his first show on Tuesday the Doctor expresses surprise and delight at returning to the label but it’s a move he’s earned on merit rather than sentiment, continuing to work and record throughout the intervening years, but it feels he’s now back home where he cut those classic late 60s soul-jazz albums Move Your Hand, Turning Point and Think plus the fabulous LPs with Lou Donaldson. “Lou’s doing great, I spoke to him the other day,” Lonnie tells me, “he’s family”. The esteem Smith holds the label is demonstrated when he explains the large ring he is wearing he had made using a piece of gravel taken from outside Rudy Van Gelder’s studio in Englewood Cliffs. “I haven’t told Rudy,” he remembers, seeming to wonder why.

Another thing Smith has forgotten is the name of his current album, twice checking with guitarist Jonathan Kreisberg, and from which record ‘Pilgrimage’ was taken (The Healer). When the audience start chuckling Smith, with an ever-present twinkle in his eye, says “Don’t laugh, I’ve made 50-60 albums.” It’s a fair point. 

Much of the material though is taken from his previous two albums; opening with the atmospheric, New York-in-the-drizzle, cinematic ‘Backtrack’. From there on his trio –the virtuoso Kreisberg is joined with the man with the neatest drum set-up in the business, Johnathan Blake, whose playing is as a funky as his all-on-one-level set-up is tidy – cook up a shimmering potion which, when they bring to the boil at intervals, turns Scott’s club into a furnace of groove.

There’s so much depth in Smith’s repertoire that the practice of tagging it by genre is frankly ludicrous: jazz, soul, blues, gospel, spiritual, classical, funk, rock, standards, whatever. Smith weaves through them all and more. One moment the Doc is pumping away like in a Blaxploitation movie soundtrack, the next scarcely making a sound as an ethereal beauty delicately takes over. Original composition ‘For Heaven’s Sake’ makes its first ever live performance “We’re stepping on to thin ice here. If you don’t like it, listen to the version on the new CD” he jokes, whilst adaptations of ‘My Favourite Things’ and ‘Straight No Chaser’ are more easily recognisable albeit done in a Hammond heavy style.

The good Doctor is mischievous rascal and has one last trick up his robes as he exits the stage gingerly with the exaggerated aid of a walking cane. Once at the nearest table he picks up the cane and begins to slap a rhythm on what is in fact his electrified “Slaperoo” which puzzles one man who appears to ask what it is. “It’s magic,” replies Smith, who continues to merrily circle the club. Watching a man in his 70s play a funky synth-sound on a souped-up silver walking stick/didgeridoo, held like a guitar, before launching his trio into a blistering finale with 'Play It Back' isn’t something one sees every evening. It is, like Dr. Lonnie Smith himself, most definitely magic.

Evolution by Dr. Lonnie Smith is out now on Blue Note Records.

GEORGIE FAME & THE BLUE FLAMES at RONNIE SCOTT’S, LONDON

Chat, make noise, do what you want, just don’t take photographs was the message from Georgie Fame as he settled behind his battered Hammond for Friday’s late show before easing into a lengthy scene-setting “Flamingo Allnighter” recalling the club he’s synonymous with, it’s owner Rik Gunnell, Speedy Acquaye, Zoot Money, parties on the Cromwell Road, purple hearts, good ganja and ladies of the night. He did a lot of reminiscing, giving the detailed history to songs and colouring them with funny impressions of a grumpy Van Morrison or Bob Dylan.

Considering the time he spends referencing the Flamingo it’s a puzzle why he stubbornly refuses offers from promoters to play a full Blue Flames Flamingo set. His song choices remain fairly constant from year to year: Ray Charles’s “Get On The Right Track Baby”; Willie Nelson’s “Funny How Time Slips Away”; and he can’t get away from “Yeh Yeh”, the song which finally “broke us out of the Flamingo, and out of the country”. His voice is still is good shape, probably thanks to his early decision to sing as if a land owner from banks of the Mississippi, with Jamaican housekeepers, than adopting the persona of a blues shouter more expected from a native of a Lancastrian industrial town.

Another number from that early period was “Preach and Teach”, written by Johnny Burch, whose Quartet the Flames often played alongside at the Flamingo, and was the flip side to “Yeh Yeh”. Fame spoke movingly of Burch (who died in 2006) so after the gig I mentioned to him that Monkey Snr. often saw both groups at the Flamingo (primarily to see Burch) but Georgie wasn’t remotely interested. Not at all. Okay, I’ll grant you it wasn’t the most fascinating piece of news, but one could purchase Mose Allison’s entire back catalogue for what it costs for a night at Ronnie Scott’s so it wouldn’t have hurt to be more courteous. It’s not like he was being harassed whilst out with his family or schmoozing someone else; he was alone near the exit of his own gig. The only other person nearby was a girl who dared to ask to take his photograph, to which he flapped, protested and drafted a contract to be signed in blood promising not to post to the internet. What’s his problem? In fairness though, had I teamed a black silk shirt with bright orange jeans I wouldn’t have wanted it posted either.

Back to the gig and he balanced the old with the new pretty well and his band of Guy Barker (trumpet), Alan Skidmore (tenor), Anthony Kerr (vibes), Tristan Powell (guitar), Alec Dankworth (bass) and James Powell (drums) kept things cooking at an even temperature. “Skiing Blues” though, written after an argument with a girlfriend was supposed to demonstrate it was possible to write a song about anything, but was so terrible lyrically (“I just didn’t get the drift/ When you stayed down by the lift/ And you traded your boots for shoes”) I was scoffing to myself, yet one woman openly laughed out loud. I hope they were deliberately bad, or if not, she didn’t try approaching him afterwards.

When he said they were going to do a Bob Dylan song none immediately sprang to mind, and if asked to guess I’d still be there now as the bluesy rocker “Everything Is Broken” from 1989’s Oh Mercy would’ve been long down my list. If the song choice was surprising, it was nothing compared to Georgie adding his own audience participation refrain of “It’s all fucked up!” Fame’s talent has always been to interrupt other people’s songs in his own style and “Everything Is Broken” proved it’s a talent he’s not completely lost. Shame he’s a bit of an arse.

LOU DONALDSON at RONNIE SCOTT'S

Not for the first time, alto-sax legend Lou Donaldson has to put up with a couple of off-their-head geezers gate crashing his dressing room. He’s just finished the last of his stint at Ronnie Scott’s with a Friday midnight show and at 83 you’d think could do with some well earned rest but, as ever, is the perfect gentleman, happy to slouch back in his chair and field slurred gibberish from two imbeciles as his band look on with wry amusement. Or it may be pity.

The last time in London he had Dr Lonnie Smith on Hammond and they served up a soul-jazz “Alligator Boogaloo” style set. Tonight he’s in a more bebop kind of mood but it makes little odds. The man is phenomenal. My heart sinks initially when he starts with the old standard “Summertime” but he and his excellent combo (organ, guitar, drums) soon cook up an irresistible groove. I’m not qualified to get all technical about jazz playing but there’s something about Donaldson’s records and his live shows that get me like no other. And with his hangdog face and neat line in crackly patter, he has charisma oozing out his pores and the crowd eating out of what must be a sweaty hand.

I don’t know all the numbers (and the grain and the grape have wiped some of it) but recognise the ballad “Laura” and am delighted to hear “Gravy Train” as I have that CD with me which Lou graciously signs before we leave him in peace. If you come back to London Lou, we’ll be back too. You have been warned my friend.