Peter Green at Moles, 2nd September

Earlier that evening I had been grasping onto nostalgia through You tube videos of Peter Green. This was to convince myself that iconic numbers like ‘Black Magic Woman’ and ‘Oh Well’ would remain timeless signature anthems. My scepticism stemmed from disbelief of someone overcoming such tribulations that have plagued Peter Green whilst remaining a soulful virtuoso. When I first wandered in and the music commenced it felt indistinguishable. The plodding tunes seemed synonymous of aging performers like Clapton, missing the hunger of the gritty anthems that had launched them. Furthermore it felt like a style of music that had been a record company cash cow since Elvis. So I fell into a mingling frenzy to detract from the tunes that I could barely hear. I was oblivious to a massive difference in sound behind the dance floor as sporadic feed back slightly tarnished it. Fortunately a friend’s Mum was brazen and trail blazed her way to the front with a potent combo of feminine wiles and brawn that didn’t appear to exist. Suddenly the harmonies and meticulous musicianship came alive as they surged in momentum. When they began to feed off an eager crowd the band’s bubbly stage persona became infectious. Mr Green who had been a distant hat, now was scaling the fret board in front of me in cohesion with a gyrating guitarist. The organ player and rhythm guitarist were the earthwire as they alleviated Green’s strain by taking the lead sometimes. Despite looking weary at moments Green rarely flagged and the only noticeable strain was from the intensity of ‘Oh Well’. It was an odd experience to hear a man in his late sixties stutter lines about teenage insecurities. He compensated by creating a captivating transition into ‘Albatross’. The live embellished version of this hit was so inspiring that it toppled hearing it as the backdrop to dripping treacle pie (M and S advert).

Initially it was tricky to be immersed in the vibe of the place as I had to continually hear ‘you’ve brought the average age down by forty years.’ They would often express the significance of each track and I would be left blank, as to a child of the 90s it would sound like tepid blues. Their reply would always refer to an upbringing in the sixties being crucial in feeling an essence of Green being a zeitgeist, as it separates a lot the tunes with individual meaning. This tallied as Dylan’s work had captivated me more when covered by musicians with more flare on their instrument, which would sound like sacrilege for a child of the sixties. The hit that possibly refers to Green being a spokesperson of his generation the most, was the one I was most hoping to hear. ’Green Manalishi’ exposed Green’s revolutionary thinking amidst never ending extravagance in the music business. It was a very rare thing for a young musician in the seventies to agonize about not distributing enough wealth to the homeless.

Fortunately the diversity of the second section salvaged it for me as tracks like ‘Black Magic Woman’ are his patented fusion of styles. As they mould such genres as Spanish, blues, soul and rock’n’roll they become a lot more accessible for someone listening presently as they haven’t been emulated to any effect. Previously I had seen musicians of Green’s era let their age decline their consistency and meticulous edge. As was the case when I saw the Police in 2007 being let down by Summers convoluting classics like ’Message in a Bottle’ with drawn out solos. Which emphasised the feat of Green’s prowess still being strong as Summers had imbibed and indulged a lot less than him without battling schizophrenia. There was a role reversal on this evening as Green and his band began to take over where Summers left off (prior to the 2007 gig) by entrancing the audience with succinct and powerful solos. After leaving that evening what spoke louder than the pulsating riff of ‘Oh Well’ was Green’s fortitude to not let the human condition detract from the passion he had been imbued with from an early age.