Sharing beats with the RLB
Last night I saw the Russell Leon Band perform with Marcus Walker, their new bass player, the man who replaced me when Scandinavia came calling. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, what I might hear, and what I might feel watching someone else play MY parts, but I honestly have to say that I was pleasantly delighted with the whole experience.I anticipated their gig at The Savoy in Toronto like I might anticipate spending an evening with an old girlfriend who I still *really* liked, but who was inexplicably partnered with someone else, someone distasteful, inferior, bland, humourless, dull, out of time and out of synch with reality... Someone who could not possibly step into my 10 ½ inch shoes and fill the void of my absence but who somehow manipulated the universe to their own deviant advantage...
You get the idea.
I guess some part of me was hoping they might really suck without me. But that was on a subconscious level.
On the theta-level, I was looking forward to seeing my friends play, to hear some great tunes with the pulsating live groove I expect from the funkadelic RLB, and to stare once again in abject amazement and stark humility while Ansgar, Brian and Keith pulled tasty solos out of the air and dropped them like golden hammers upon our grateful little heads.
I was not disappointed.
The band are even tighter now than when I played with them, and their groove was more infectious than a sneezing four-year-old in economy class. The RLB made the whole room bounce and shake to the bombastic quake of their rocking beats.
They massaged the senses with delectable aural treats for about 45 minutes and pleasured us with songs from the repertoire I know (from back in the day, when I used to throw down the sticky, sickly basslines) and a few new tunes that I only knew from the scratchpad of joyous jazz head-oriented improvisation from rehearsals in another era.
It was an enormous treat to listen to the band, and I have to say it was also a treat to listen to their new bass man play. While he was certainly playing along to the same songs I used to play, he wasn’t playing MY parts; he was playing his own parts. And they were tasty, meaty, groove-inducing and ... appropriate for the songs.
I felt good listening to the band, with me not on bass. And while I would have loved to be up there playing with them, I was honestly surprised not to be bothered by being another plebeian in the audience. I was able to enjoy the swooning horns and brilliant smiles, and feel the great, positive energy from their music cascading off the stage and through the speakers.
And this is where the gushing ends.
After the set, I hugged the boys, and Marcus introduced himself with a warm smile and handshake. It was (and is) all good...
I joined them for the post-show ritual, and it’s good to know that some things never change. People are people, my friends are my friends, and I’m proud to share a love for music with them, no matter who is making it.
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