Brook's Blues Bar

Date: 17th June, 2005. We were on Shepherd's Bush Road, Hammersmith, after a terrific Spanish meal at Los Molinos - which has better tapas than what we'd sampled in the restaurants we'd visited in downtown Barcelona - we crossed the road to Brook Green Hotel where we'd earlier noted that the Brook's Blues Bar had posted something about a blues event that night starting at 9.30pm or so. Friday night - the day before our departure for Singapore - why not savour what the British were doing with acoustic blues?
Down the dark stairway to a table at the entrance to a dimly-lit, semi-crowded basement bar where a large, gently-spoken lady politely ensured we paid our dues - six pounds sterling each,
if I remember right; the show was to begin at nine-thirty; the stage was set.
We sat sipping our drinks expectantly while our two boys (young men rather) were at their handphones trying to block out the surroundings since they weren't into this kind of music.
We noticed a group of very tall blacks, like American basketball
players, peering over the large lady by the doorway then deciding against coming in... they waved at the lady, muttering something inaudible and disappeared up the stairs again.
On stage, there was Gordon Smith, flamboyantly shirted - handling the guitar like the way he wore his shirt, I suppose, while someone bearded struck a few chords on a honky tonk piano (it must have been Tim Penn). I gulped my pint of Newcastle Bitter thirstily as the trio comprising singer/guitarist, pianist & drummer broke into a run resembling something from Leadbelly, Big Bill Broonzy or Howlin' Wolf... I couldn't tell which, but it sounded vintage Deep South. Man, where did these Englishmen learn to play Deep South - the rawness of country passion, the twang of dark discontent, the hidden rhythms of the heart... this was cardiac surgery of a very high level indeed. It could have been the Newcastle Bitter but my mind began to wander into channels of profundity like: Is this a subtle form of globalisation - this transplantation of intimate aural cultural iconography from the Deep South to Hammersmith? How come such a crossover from the Deep South to London can still appear authentic? Where did these guys get their coolness & intimacy with Southern music without being actually black? A big toast to British blues in the wake of all the turbulence that globalisation can often bring with it; it's a pity but what a show those black basketballers missed, I thought to myself. NB Latest Update: Brook's Blues Bar is no longer at Shepherds Bush Tony Brooks tells me and if you want that British Blues experience that I got a glimpse of in my blog, you need to go to The Telegraph on Putney Heath (SW15 3TU).The next time I go to Britain, I'll head for Putney Heath; thanks Tony...