NORTHUMBRIAN MUSIC
NIGHTS
What we said about
MAURICE DICKSON
Maurice Dickson
Absolutely First Class!
Me, I blame the promoters. They may try to describe a particular show, in advance, but sometimes they just get it wrong. I think this evening was billed as real, live and spellbinding in an intimate room, which was certainly well below the mark. This evening was a tribute to the transcendent quality of first class entertainment, when a room can come alive to the passionate sounds of a top quality musician.
There have been many musicians over the years at the King's Head, but none I think can have been quite so incredibly persuasive musically while yet so cheerfully familiar and comfortable with their audience.
But from Maurice's first song, 'The Dreamer', with its evocative guitar work and a brief introduction to his smooth and compelling voice, the evening belonged to the chirruppy chap, and the audience weren't quite sure how they'd stumbled onto this session of virtuosity. Was this music really entering our ears, or perhaps this was a dream 'in someone else's eyes'?
With a sojourn into 'Stressed Out Blues', a walking blues that didn't start with the morning wake-up call, and on to that standard blues metaphor, the red dress number, Maurice moved into the hauntingly romantic song, 'Marion', which sent shivers around the room as applause erupted spontaneously everywhere. Some fiery instrumental numbers dedicated to a precious wee girl, and a homage to winter's late chill, rounded off the first half, and it was looking like another of those incredibly brilliant, absolutely first-class entertainment nights for which the venue is renowned. At least I noticed the promoters smirking behind the bar in a sort of self-satisfied, told-you-so way!
How can one guy and an acoustic guitar make such spellbinding music? There was this strange rhythm box at Maurice's feet, which added some percussion, but he developed unique and haunting rhythms all his own both from the strumming, the plucking and a tap-tap-tapping on the guitar itself [a Martin, of course]. 'When Eagles Fly' was an apostrophe to the perils of alcohol in his profession, while 'Country Pickin' Blues' was fast, dramatic and effervescent. If there were any offended banjo players in the audience, during the longest running and most convulsive series of banjo jokes I've ever heard, they didn't let on.
The one song Maurice played from his anticipated new CD, 'I'm Yours', a haunting yearning blues-based number that lifted the heart and sent it soaring, made it a virtual certainty that it would be a feature selling point when it eventually appears.
And the universal appreciation of his music from the audience made it inevitable that the promoters would invite him back as soon as possible, for a repeat performance. September apparently looks a likely date, they say, such was the acclaim which the second set precipitated, extended to an hour and a half of superlative music with encore after encore. More, Maurice promised a workshop for guitarists, who would definitely be delighted to attend a masterclass presented by this gifted musician.
With so many witnesses to this virtuosity, I'd have thought a sellout, standing-room-only crowd was a foregone conclusion when Mr. Dickson returns to the tiny stage, if the promoters can get it right next time.
