Rockin' Around the Clock
Created | Updated Aug 8, 2003
Drums, Bass and A Fuzzy Guitar: ZZ TOP, Brixton Academy 30/07/03
It is 31 years since ZZ Top first unleashed their particular brand of Texas Boogie on an unsuspecting world. Nothing much has changed in their world since then. Their songs remain anchored to the same three subjects that they always did - girls, cars and alcohol, either separately or together.
If they are no longer the unstoppable juggernaut that they once were, they still have a loyal following, certainly enough to sell out Brixton Academy's 4700 capacity for a hot sweaty night in July for latest leg of the never-ending boogie. The Top have a new album, Mescalero, arriving soon, but as it is not yet available in the UK this is being billed as the Beer Drinkers and Hell Raisers Tour - a greatest hits package for the fans.
Gone are the flashy stage sets - an empty stage with nothing save Frank Beard's drum set is all that greets an expectant audience. Then MC Ross Mitchell emerges from the wings to enquire if we are ready for the show to begin. Before the audience can give the inevitable answer, Frank Beard has locked into the instantly recognizable drum introduction of 'Gimme All Your Lovin' and the building erupts. Billy Gibbons (guitar) and Dusty Hill (bass) emerge from the shadows in outfits only the Top would consider - calf length, rhinestone encrusted ponchos and what can only be described as twenty gallon hats. When the ponchos and the hats are removed to reveal more prosaic-hairnets, Hill takes on a disturbing resemblance to an Ewok in sunglasses.
The show is as slick as oil on ice, but is obvious that this is no over-rehearsed joyless performance - the band are clearly having as much fun as the audience. If they know these songs backward it's more a sign that they have been a band since they were twenty (they are now 54) - they have reached a virtually telepathic level of understanding of the music and each other. Spontaneous attacks of Hank Marvin style choreography are to be seen between Gibbons and Hill throughout the show. Beard, who once said his on stage headphones played live baseball scores remains impassive behind his enormous drum kit, producing a rock steady beat. Neither he nor Hill perform solos during the set - presumably both feel they have little to prove with that sort of grandstanding. A faultless run through the complex polyrhythms of 'Manic Mechanic' are sufficient to prove that this is one of the tightest rhythm sections on the planet.
And neither is Gibbons given to showboating. As John Fogerty once famously remarked, if a guitar solo was good enough for the original recording, then there is little point in mucking about with it live. Gibbons satisfies himself with the odd extra twelve bars of solo and an extended slide guitar workout during a cover of the old Lightnin' Hopkins warhorse, 'Catfish Blues', which is one of only two songs that Hill performs vocals on.
Gibbons is a charismatic presence on stage, with a dry wit - having promised us an evening of 'Beer Drinking and Hell Raising', he staggers to the side of the stage and sips from a can of Diet Pepsi. He is very pleased to inform us that the guitar he uses for 90% of the show was given to him by Bo Diddley, which speaks volumes for the man and his attitude. Many would be satisfied just to own such an instrument. Gibbons takes his treasured possession round the world and plays it. He tells an extended anecdote about putting songs from the new album into the show, despite the fact that we would not know them. He need not worry - a call-and-response song in which the important words are 'Butt Naked' soon has the audience joining in.
There are some gimmicks here - the furry guitars of the Eliminator period are brought out for a run through 'Legs', and tapes of squealing cars set 'Manic Mechanic' on its raucous way, but essentially this is an unvarnished set featuring the essential ingredients of the Top's heady brew - drums, bass and a fuzzy guitar. The hats re-appear, with some rather alarming rhinestone-encrusted cowboy jackets for the bands one encore, an audience participation run through old favourite 'Tube Snake Boogie' and the charmingly politically incorrect 'Tush' and then the band is gone, taking the never ending boogie to another city.
At base, ZZ Top's music may not be particularly big, it may not be particularly clever, but it does exactly what it says on the tin. Frankly, on the strength of this performance, long may it continue to do so.
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