It’s a cold, damp evening as we race through the Nottingham streets on our way to the elegant Royal Concert Hall to catch Beth Hart and, opening the show, Wille & the Bandits. Always an emotional performer, you never quite know which Beth you’re going to get on any given night, and so we head to the venue with no small mix of anticipation and curiosity.
Hailing from Cornwall, the diverse Wille & the Bandits are nominally a blues act, although there’s far more to them than that, as they so ably show this evening even in stripped down acoustic mode. Fronted by the ebullient Wille Edwards, the band deliver a compelling half-hour warm up that includes laid-back takes on a number of old favourites, from the slide-laden Love Me When The Fire’s Out and the cool, almost Gomez vibe of Got to Do Better When the World Stood Still to the still-fantastic Four Million Days and a dusty Cross Road Blues. Picking out a favourite from that concise bunch is a touch one, but I’ve always had a soft spot for Four Million Days, and the fact that the chorus is still racing through my head some twenty hours later goes some way to explaining why.
Always great live, Wille and the Bandits open up the night in style, winning the crowd over with charm, humour and, of course, great songs. Here’s hoping they come back again soon.
Beth Hart, always an impulsive performer, starts not with a bang, but with a connection.
She comes out alone, greets the audience, before singing As Long As I Have A Song a cappella. It’s an affecting opening that sets a slightly melancholic tone for the evening, further cemented by her opening number with the band, Tell ‘Em To Hold On, which is a smoky, piano-led ballad from Better Than Home, only slightly undone by a mix that buries the guitars.
With Beth still at the piano, a slinky Swing My thing Back Around emerges as a fun lounge number while Skin, a track from Screaming For My Supper provides the emotional follow up. Dedicated (as always) to Beth’s sister, it’s heavy on the piano but once again finds the guitars somewhat neutered. Fortunately, Beth’s stunning vocals cut through loud and clear, highlighting the fact that she is in fine voice tonight.
When Beth steps away from the piano, the guitars pick up considerably and we get a raucous rendition of Delicious Surprise, here extended to include a mass singalong (with the audience more than up to the challenge). It paves the way for the most vibrant portion of the evening, which includes a take on Melody Gardot’s Your Heart Is As Black As Night, and a pair of Zeppelin numbers – No Quarter and Babe I’m Going To Leave You. These latter pieces prove to be something of a mixed bag for, while Beth is more than a match for Robert Plant, the absence of bass and the too-loud synth on No Quarter result in a somewhat muddled sound. However, when Jon whips out his acoustic, the sound clears up nicely, and Babe I’m Going To Leave You sounds utterly fantastic, Beth writhing on the floor as she inhabits the vocal. Better still is the fun country rocker Wanna Be Big Bad Johnny Cash, which has the audience firmly on side (“I didn’t know if you guys thought it was dorky or not,” gushes Beth).
Following a short story about Beth’s ever-supportive husband, Scotty, we get With You Everyday, which is touchingly dedicated to him (he even pops out to give her a swift hug at its conclusion) before Beth calms things down still further with an acoustic take on Thankful.
Keeping the vibe low key, Beth sits at the piano alone for Mama, This One’s For You, a blinding spotlight further emphasizing the vulnerability of the moment. She then brings Tommy back on for a heart-stopping and slightly harrowing War In My Mind, the crescendos ringing out across a venue so hushed you could hear a pin fall.
It’s not all weighty fare. The Ugliest House On The Block is a breezy number which, with added dub percussion and Beth on acoustic, could so easily be a long-lost Eels single – a feeling reinforced by the Get your ass off my lot… and fuck off!” refrain. It’s amidst these lighter moments that you get to see Beth and her band simply having a little fun. The same could be said for Broken And Ugly, which Beth decides to do “punk rock style”. Punk it may not quite be, but it sure is fast and it’s a lot of fun to watch Jon’s fingers flashing across the fretboard as he tries to keep up. It stands in firm contrast to Lullaby Of The Leaves, which finds Beth performing at the front of the stage, frequently reaching out to hold the hand of a more-than-willing audience member, that unique mix of vulnerability and star power in full evidence here.
The main set wraps up with the heavy, heavy blues of Don’t Call The Police, which was inspired in part by the George Floyd murder, the piano ringing out in stark contrast to the increasingly weak cries of “Mama” that pepper the first verse. This is Beth stripped down to the core, both song and performance are raw as hell, referencing wounds in the American psyche that are unlikely to heal anytime soon.
With the main set over, Beth bounds off stage to loud and sustained applause. It’s clear from the smile she gives us when she returns that she’s having a great time, her joy manifesting itself in the form of an extended encore that unexpectedly includes the cinematic blues of Rub Me For Luck (dedicated to Joe Bonamassa); a stunning slow blues; and, taking the night right up to the very wire, a spry Pimp Like That, delivered with a cheeky grin as stage hands frantically signal form the wings that it’s time to wrap things up. It says much of the energy in the room that you suspect Beth would have carried on regardless were it not for the strict curfew in force. As it is, she bounds up from the piano, makes a quick bow, and exits leaving the entire auditorium on its feet.
A night with Beth Hart is always an unexpected affair. An exceptional singer who pours heart and soul into every gig, the set list largely depends upon her own emotional state and the reaction of the audience, with the printed lists appearing to be more of a guide than an instruction manual. This can be a bit of a double-edged sword for, while the spontaneity is never less than thrilling, the sets don’t always flow as well as, say, the more carefully structured studio albums, and tonight does have a few too many ballads at its core. However, what price authenticity?
Beth Hart is the real deal and, from the standing ovation she receives to the buzz in the auditorium (which empties hilariously quickly under the weight of Pantera’s Walk blasting from the PA), it’s clear that this tour is another soaring success. A compelling, honest, and open performer, Beth Hart makes every concert an experience to treasure and tonight is no exception.
She did not sing caught out in the rain
You’re quite right! There was something between Rub Me For Luck and Pimp Like Me, the title of which we didn’t catch, so we relied on SetList Fm (foolish). Thanks for the correction.
I’ve seen Beth many times, Rock City, Hampton Court, Royal Albert Hall to name drop a few! I love her performance and treasure all of them. But the acoustics of this great venue .. and Beth and her bands fabulous performance was ruined by the ridiculous volume levels. Why oh why did it have to be so loud. Ears still ringing on Wednesday!!
Thanks for your comment. I must confess, with the number of gigs we attend, we’d never head in without earplugs firmly attached, so we tend not to have the same issues. That said, the show didn’t feel particularly loud (especially in comparison to the metal gigs we so often attend), but we’re sorry you found it to be the case.
We do recommend ear protection – the hi-fi earplugs that you can get now tend to make things sound better across the board – as once the damage is done, there’s little you can do. We’re not affiliated to any company, but we use Alpine Tune Earplugs, which land at around the £30 mark. Our friends, conversely, swear by the Loop Earplugs which come in at a similar price point. With either choice, you’ll find they help to remove the more brutal frequencies (especially those at the higher end of the spectrum), leaving you to enjoy the music without the ringing.