“It’s sold out,” my
friend hollered into my cell phone. “They won’t let me in.”
I had told her, and
countless others, “Nah, don’t get tickets. It’s gonna
be a great show but it won’t sell out. Rochesterians
are too hung up on cover bands, chain restaurants, and bad TV to venture
downtown to dig a relative unknown.” But surprise, surprise; English soul
singer James Hunter‘s Thursday show
at Montage was sold the hell out. It was fantastic. It was a sensation. It was souled out. So Rochester’s got some soul after all. I couldn’t be happier. My town
didn’t let me down.
The crowd shoehorned
itself into the joint greeting Hunter and his band with cheers as they made for
the bandstand. With an ear to ear grin, he seemed thrilled with the response,
quickly introduced himself and the band — “me mates” — and launched into “Talkin’ ‘Bout My Love” before rolling out my fav “You Can’t Win.” The sound was
spectacular. The horns in particular sent me. When that baritone player dove
for the deep notes they resonated in my bones.
Hunter pushed the new
album, for the most part keeping true to most of its arrangements. His guitar
playing was terse and twangy and deserves almost as
much praise as his golden pipes. Homeboy can sing and sling. Hunter paused to dedicate a hip version of “Riot” to The
Five Royales singer John Tanner, who passed away in
November.
The band didn’t vary
tempos a whole helluva lot and kept to a nonchalant,
medium tempo shuffle that skirted ska. This had a
tremendous effect on people who could only dance from the waist up ’cause they
were sitting down or wedged in too tight with the other soul-lovin’ sardines. Well, my bottom half couldn’t take it.
C’mon, I’m supposed to just sit here? I made my own dance floor in the 4’x4′
area by my table and cut me some rug with my baby, apologizing here and there
for a coupla spilt drinks and stepped-on toes.
This article appears in Apr 19-25, 2006.
