The Magic Band

The Zodiac, Cowley Road, Oxford, England

June 6^th 2005

Personnel: John French (Drumbo) Vocals, Drums, Harmonica, Percussion

Mark Boston (Rockette Morton) Bass guitar

Gary Lucas (Mantis) Lead guitar

Denny Walley (Feelers Rebo) Rhythm guitar, Slide guitar

Michael Traylor (Swamp Monk) Drums

Songs*:

Gimme Dat Harp Boy

Dropout Boogie

Lo-Yo-Yo Stuff

Kandy Korn

Hair Pie

When It Blows Its Stacks

Abba Zaba

Sugar ’n Spikes

Nowadays a Woman’s Gotta Hit a Man

Electricity

China Pig

Floppy Boot Stomp

Moonlight on Vermont

Veteran’s Day Poppy

Sun Zoom Spark

Steal Softly Thru Snow

Alice in Blunderland

Circumstances

Big Eyed Beans from Venus (finale)

Mirror Man (encore)

* This list is based on imperfect memory; there may be inaccuracies, omissions, and certainly errors in sequence.

This was an invigorating, nostalgic evening. Here was a band which was formed in the sixties, had lost its leader, inspiration and song-writer, but now on a summer evening in Oxford, performed its repertoire of old numbers with great skill and respect – not to mention a lot of fun, I rather fancy, judging by the atmosphere of the concert.

“Captain Beefheart and his Magic Band” was a West Coast rock group, emerging in the heyday of flower power, whose name was one more fantastic concoction of exotic mystique, alongside such contemporaries as “Country Joe and the Fish”, “Quicksilver Messenger Service”, “The Mothers of Invention”, “The Grateful Dead” and many more. The Captain’s style was unlike any other, however, deriving from a low deep blues and influenced much by Howlin’ Wolf and Muddy Waters, transforming over the years into free-form jazz, occasional ballads, but ultimately always returning to the extravagant eccentricity that few could even try to match. To hear his growling voice, with its modulated shrieks and murmurs, in front of the reliable pounding beat and strange rhythms from the band, was a mesmerising experience.

Now the legendary Captain, Don Van Vliet, who devised his own outlandish nicknames for his band members, has long retired from music to pursue abstract painting, leaving the faithful remnants of the band to play the old magic numbers with as much verve and style as they can muster – which, on the night, was quite a lot!

Drumbo, who played on the very first album in 1967, appeared in a wide-brimmed, white hat and a long white coat, and assumed the front man role, introducing the numbers and the band, and singing in a style close enough to the Captain’s to make one imagine perhaps the great man was there in spirit all along. His geniality, however, and generally friendly volubility, was in stark contrast to the Captain’s remembered taciturnity. With shaved head and neat goatee beard, Drumbo maintained the air of extravagance the group had always had. When during the middle stages, he resumed his seat behind the drums, where he had earned his nickname, one sensed that here was indeed a great drummer, his arms and legs whirling in rapid harmony as he thumped out the offbeat rhythms.

The other three ageing Magic Band stalwarts were as eccentric and masterful at their instruments as Drumbo on the drums. Rockette Morton, with huge grey beard, was less nimble than in his days of pounding up and down the stage, but the rolling, steady beat on such numbers as “Gimme Dat Harp Boy” and “When It Blows Its Stacks” held everything together superbly. Mantis, in wide-brimmed black hat and strangely imperturbable smile, found some beautiful licks worthy of such great predecessors as Zoot Horn Rollo. Standing inoffensively to one side, Feelers Rebo added an essential element of sheer musical know-how, and firm support, while ably and nonchalantly taking the lead when it was needed. Newcomer the Swamp Monk was undemonstratively efficient while Drumbo remained up front.

For me the highlights of the evening were the early numbers which Drumbo knew so well, such as the hypnotically floating “Kandy Korn”, and “Abba Zaba”, evoking dreamy hot nights in Africa, and the stomping later tracks “When It Blows Its Stacks” and “Floppy Boot Stomp”. The Captain’s greatest testament, the barely accessible “Trout Mask Replica”, was evoked on several songs, and fans of that album would not have been disappointed either.

In his between-songs chats, Drumbo paid sincere tributes to the two men who did most for the fine music the band was playing. First, to Don Van Vliet himself, who wrote every note – but he had no recent news of him, or his rumoured poor health, as he evidently lives the life of a recluse in northern California. Second, to British DJ John Peel, who had championed the Captain’s music in the late sixties when few seemed to recognise its excellence – Drumbo lamented his death late last year.

One came away feeling here was a fine group of men, enjoying themselves with their flamboyant, rather weird, music and sharing it jovially with their fans. It certainly made me reach for the turntable and sift out those Beefheart covers.