Enjoying the buzz of celebrity following a much-vaunted RTE “Late Late Show” TV appearance, KELLY JOE PHELPS rides into Cork ready to dish out larger portions of his potent, blues-imbued medicine.
Initially, in front of a packed and expectant house, he doesn’t look much. Actually, he looks more like a sleepy longshoreman failing to locate the store of contraband shaving equipment, but whoever coined the cliché “looks can be deceiving” got it bang on the money. As soon as those magic fingers start to fly – then look out! Big style.
Opening with the stunning boondocks invocation “Gold Tooth”, it’s quickly apparent that a trip with Mr. Phelps is gonna take us way, way off road, but into the kind of wicked, twisted Americana that is (correctly) coming under the microscope in more discerning quarters.
It’s also immediately obvious that whilst Phelps is capable of toying with all those “woke up this morning” blues motifs, he’ll soon twist ‘em into fantastic, unrecognisable shapes: only too evident when he re-assembles numerous trad.arr staples (“The Wagoner’s Lad”; “The Black Velvet Band” and a mind-bending encore of “The House Carpenter” that has to be heard to be believed) into his very own image.
He’s also highly arresting visually. Long on both TOM WAITS-ian growls and all manner of facial contortions and head thrown back concentration, he stamps his feet continually and wrings every ounce of juice from each and every one of tonight’s selections, all the while alternating between finger-picking and some startling lap slide. The comparisons usually surrounding him conjure other uncompromising figures like KEB MO and TAJ MAHAL, but Phelps’ new blues shapes are both staggering and very freshly squeezed.
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The set lasted around the 1hr 15 minute mark – including that remarkable final take on “The House Carpenter” – but highlights abounded. At one stage, he dipped back into WOODY GUTHRIE’s songbook for a lengthy and super-emotional trawl through Californian migrant tragedy “Pastures Of Plenty” (BILLY BRAGG where are you?), but even this failed to eclipse both “Sky Like A Broken Clock” and – best of all – “Tommy”, a devastatingly sad’ n’ tender tale of a town eccentric that ends in desperate tragedy. A dagger through the heart no matter how many times you slice it.
A highly individual (and top quality) strain of the cross-bred folk ‘n’ blues Americana currently flourishing, KELLY JOE PHELPS has the talent, virtuosity and the emotional knock out punches to floor even the most ardent blues detractor. To say this gig was a revelation sells it short. This was a master class.
(PHOTOS: KATE FOX)
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