Few artists are called to the Royal Albert Hall, but if any singer was truly meant to grace its stage, then that singer must surely be Beth Hart. A born entertainer, she can evoke dreams and damnation, joy and deep sorrow with a timeless voice that summons the spirit of Janis Joplin, not to mention the fire of a young Tina Turner. It’s more than that, though. To be at a Beth Hart show is to become for the night her friend and confident. She cries and laughs, whispers seductively and roars with rage, all over the course of twenty-three songs, and this album is a timely document of Beth at the very peak of her powers.
It’s hard to imagine a more spell-binding introduction to a gargantuan stroll through an artist’s back-catalogue than Beth Hart’s acapella introduction to her Royal Albert Hall. Delivered over a silence that is punctuated regularly by wildly enthusiastic bursts of spontaneous applause, As long as I have a song is a stunning performance that stands in stark contrast to Beth’s jubilant cry of “how the hell are ya?” just before she instructs her band to kick into the hard-hitting blues rock of for my friends. It’s the supremely confident one-two punch of a seasoned artist, comfortable at last in her own skin and ready to rock the place to the ground. Her band, augmented by the exceptionally tight rhythm section of Bob Marinelli and Bill Ransom are on fire and, when Beth orders the audience to stand before an energetic take on lifts you up, it’s hard to imagine anyone choosing to resist her wide-eyed zeal. It’s so joyful and these three opening songs mark the start of a spectacular show that is destined to lift the listener out of the everyday to a place that is as rich and warm as Beth’s honeyed voice. Having set the place alight (and quite possibly caused security a few palpitations), Beth allows her audience to sit as she introduces close to my fire (which is, she informs us, one of her mother’s favourite songs). As richly-textured a piece of blues-infused soul as one could wish for, it’s played gloriously straight, Beth allowing a smoky edge to creep into her voice, and for a moment we’re in a tiny bar in down-town New York, gathered so close to the piano we can smell the whiskey and cigarette ash that has spilled across the stage. Through a cheeky bang bang boom boom, across a good as it gets (dedicated to the audience and the experience of playing live) and into a rambunctious, funky baby shot me down, all wah-guitar and sultry vocal, Beth takes the audience on a guided tour of her career and influences and not once does she miss her mark. There’s even room for some grungy hard rock with waterfalls and all of this is taken in over the course of just the first half of the show.
Kicking off the second half of the show (and disc two of the set), saved sees Beth redeemed but unapologetic as she sings… no, roars: “I used to smoke, I used to drink, I used to smoke and drink and dance the hoochy coo” as the band kick up a storm behind her. The track provides the backdrop to the story that prefaces the lovely the ugliest house on the block, an acoustic-led track with plenty of attitude. Beth continues to regale the audience with stories as she introduces the slinky spiders in my bed, an ode to insomnia that leaves the audience unprepared for the sheer vulnerability of a show-stopping take it easy on me. A heart-breaking and beautiful performance, Beth is clearly moved by the audience reaction and her breaking voice, as she talks about her husband Scott, are as painful to hear as leave the light on is redemptive. Few artists give so much but, for Beth, it is all part of giving thanks for still being able to use her gift; and for the audience, the pay off is seeing that gorgeous smile break through as her naturally effervescent personality reasserts itself once more for My California (dedicated to Scott). From here on in, Beth is back at her brightest, introspection giving way to the explosive joy of trouble, and love is a lie (an absolute highlight). The show concludes with the sweet picture in a frame and the explosive Caught out in the rain, the latter a slow blues shot through with electrifying stabs of guitar and an heroic, climactic solo. It brings the show to a hugely satisfying end as Beth gathers her musicians and crew around her to share in the adulation – one last generous gesture from a genuine and graceful artist.
Live at the Royal Albert Hall is the culmination of a remarkable period in Beth Hart’s storied career. It is the sound of victory snatched from the jaws of defeat and Beth’s salvation, so honestly related, is something in which we can all share and celebrate. The music is flawless, the delivery exceptional and the production superlative. Essential listening for any fan of blues and soul, live at the Royal Albert Hall is one of the most life-affirming releases of 2018 and it will leave you elated. 10
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