by Seth Rogovoy
NORTH ADAMS, Mass.
Legendary blues shouter and harmonica player James Cotton ushered in the new year at the Night Shift Cafe on Sunday night with a set of electric and electrifying music that transformed the cavernous, warehouse-style space into an intimate, Chicago blues club.
Backed by his incredibly tight and dynamic four- piece band, Cotton sang and blew his way through two sets of his trademark blues, alternating slow, mournful numbers with upbeat, rocking tunes.
In his 60th year (the last 50 of which have been spent primarily performing) Cotton is on top of his form. The one-time protege of the legendary Sonny Boy Williamson is a harmonica virtuoso, eliciting a wide range of colors and tones from the harp to make it worthy of its nickname, the "Mississippi saxophone."
"Mr. Superharp" pulled off astonishing feats of breath control that recalled the "circular breathing" techniques of some jazz saxophone wizards, allowing him to keep sounds coming with nary a pause while seeming to defy the basic need for oxygen.
This isn't to say Cotton was all wind and bluster. In fact, it was precisely his uncanny use of pauses and syncopated phrasings, setting up tension and release, that kept listeners enraptured during his solos. He also varied his tone, bending the reeds to evoke an apologetic lover's pleading whine, a lazy front-porch trill, the sound of an approaching railroad and an incisively cynical, urban growl.
The former Howlin' Wolf and Muddy Waters sideman who now calls Memphis home mixed up harp numbers with vocal showcases. He sang in an impossibly ripped- apart, gravelly rasp, barking coarse shards of lyrics. Songs included "Hoochie Koochie Man," "Little Weenie Bit of Your Love," "Farther On Up the Road" and Peggy Lee's sultry "Fever." This last number in particular was all phlegm and glottal stops. It may not have been pretty, but it was dynamically eloquent and passionately soulful.
"I Just Wanna Make Love to You" was a sexy strut; "Detroit" was fired-up R&B in double-time, and ever the showman, Cotton threw in a few dance steps of his own.
Cotton's band was razor-sharp, and the rhythm section of Brian Jones on drums and Mike Morrison on bass was particularly effective in laying down the canvas on which Cotton and the other musicians painted their musical portraits. Jones in particular splattered some fiery, machine-gun-like barrages of snare, and contributed some snazzy stop-time beats on the B. B. King-style, Texas blues number, "I'm a Cross-cut Saw."
Not a note or a beat coming from the band was extraneous or wasted, yet far from being slickly programmed, the music bore the unmistakable stamp of spontaneity. The group brought the curtain down on the party with a revved-up version of James Brown's "I Feel Good." Judging from the smiles on everybody's faces, they did too.
Earlier in the evening, the Smokehouse Prophets from Albany, N.Y., played a set of its original, funk- based music. While the group displayed a competent command of its idiom, with requisite nods to Sly Stone and George Clinton, it failed to engage the crowd - indeed, at times they didn't even seem to be trying. This was in sharp contrast to the headliner, who had the room in the palm of his hand from the outset and never let go.
Also on hand was State Sen. and would-be congresswoman Jane Swift, who counted down the seconds to the new year for the partygoers, who enjoyed complimentary confetti, noisemakers and champagne splits in surroundings appropriately decorated for the occasion with blinking lights, banners and balloons.
Also making their grand debut on Sunday night (and providing a welcome relief for concertgoers) were the Night Shift's brand-spanking-new, his-and-her indoor, heated bathroom facilities, featuring hot and cold running water, mirrors and authentic porcelain fixtures.
(This article first appeared in the Berkshire Eagle on Jan. 2, 1996. Copyright Seth Rogovoy. All rights reserved.)
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