The last time American Bluesman Doug MacLeod played Tenby he left his trousers in the Fourcroft Hotel (writes BB Skone). I suspect this has nothing to do with his popularity with the ladies and more to do with a subliminal desire, pace Blondie, to leave us with memories of something more solid. He needn’t worry. There is nowt more solid that this charismatic performer’s take on the blues.
Doug claims the blues is the truth. Well, it is one truth anyway. But if you appreciate music sung with soul, passion, feeling, humour and all the rest of the spiritually uplifting kit bag of ramalamadingdongness, then Doug is your man. And he’s not a bad guitar player either – full of deft touches straight out of the country blues cannon yet equally able to blast out a John Lee Hooker boogie when the feel demands it.
On stage that Thursday, in Tenby’s Rugby Club, home of the blues festival’s acoustic stage, Doug, a dapper, snappily dressed guy, crouched behind his aptly named Resonator steel guitar and for over two hours regaled the packed crowd with the sort of entertaining show that makes one glad to be alive, Here. Right now. If the Thesaurus was a species of dinosaur it would be extinct – no superlatives could do this guy justice. As a curtain raiser for this year’s Tenby Blues Festival (to be held November 9-11 – check out tenbyblues.co.uk for details) it was a perfeck show.
During the interval, the organisers announced that two of the headliners for this year’s festival are to be American blues legends Eugene ‘Hideaway’ Bridges and Alvin Youngblood Hart. Hmm nice! Then it was back to Doug with songs that ranged from those that touched deep human emotions such as ‘there ain’t no cure for birth and there ain’t no cure for death’ to those that had the audience laughing so much they were in danger of splitting their collective sides. Doug’s Talking Barnyard Blues was the stand out song in this vein.
Each song was preceded by an explanatory tale that was occasionally longer than the song itself. These tales were touching in a way that shed humour on the saddest tune, and spiritual depth to the funniest rendition.
As I left the club, I overhead a fan (female) telling Doug that he had beautiful shoes.
“What was that you said?” asked Doug in his gorgeous Southern draw. “You’ve got beautiful shoes” she repeated. “Lady” replied the laconic Doug, “we appear to be speaking the same language, but I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
Ah, communication of the truth. Is this what separates the artist from the rest of us? He speaks to our collective souls whilst we talk to him of his sole. So it goes! Superb.