Bjorn Berge (NOR) / Drive-by Truckers (USA)

05/02/05
De Warande, Turnhout

Speedblues, ragged glories and blue-collar pride

"Well, uhm, … JESUS, THAT'S ALREADY A WELL-SPENT 15 EUROS!!!!" was the first thing my company and me uttered after Bjorn Berge's set. I guess we expected some laidback dude playing some laidback and well-mannered acoustic country-blues, but what we got instead was an imposing tattooed giant who played with the attitude and energy of the best rock bands out there, and boasted very impressive skills. From the first song to the last, you had people concentrating on his insanely fast finger-picking, raising their eyebrows in disbelief. The guy's playing is speedy and amazingly powerful, the best thing about it all being that he doesn't sacrifice all his class for brute power (which was another matter with the blues-punk of Dutch one man band Ottoboy, for instance) - it's not some bully banging on a guitar. Using a thumb-pick and pink slide, Berge tore through "Ramblin' on My Mind" and Skip James' "Cypress Grove" as if he was the bastard offspring of Tony Joe White (the voice, the funk) and Leo Kottke (speed) with hell hounds on his trail. In between songs, Berge also proved to be a charming performer with a self-deprecating sense of humour (accompanied by an appropriate smirk) and an eagerness to interact with the (rather quiet) audience. With a handful of albums to his credit, he had enough material to pick from, but the focus was mainly on more recent material and covers of rock songs. Even though it appears on his latest album - St. Slide - he didn't play Motörhead's "Ace of Spades," but what you got instead was easily as good, as he transformed Robert Johnson's "Traveling Riverside Blues" (yeah, that's the one with the "squeeze my lemon"-line) into a ridiculously funky beast that almost resembled Nomeansno's "Big Dick" (no kidding!) and even managed to get away with covering Morphine's tale of adultery, "Thursday." Other highlights were a song called "13 Question Method" (?), which he stretched out and used to show off his talents ("Play guitar, light a cigarette and still look cool in the meantime"), the original "Trains" and a funk-blues cover of Everlast's "Black Jesus." If Berge had been born an American, he would be much bigger by now. Granted, he won a Grammy in Norway and is a best-selling (blues) artist over there, but anyone who can deliver blues on steroids this convincingly deserves the biggest audience he can get (and he's playing the Roskilde Festival in Denmark this summer). Whatever your plans are… if this guy gets in your neighbourhood, you know what to do. It's dynamite.

Welcome to The Dirty South. It's a tough place to make a living, but we ain't complainin', just doing what we got to do. Trying to raise our kids and love our women. Do right by the ones we love. But don't fuck with us or we'll cut off your head and throw your body over a spillway at the Wilson Dam." This fragment from the liner notes of their stellar 2004 album The Dirty South already gives away a lot about the attitude and themes that pop up in the Drive-by Truckers' songs. Deeply rooted in Southern culture and mythology, the band do what few bands have done before 'em, and none has done it this convincingly: offer insight into the Southern way of thinking, without succumbing to silly conservative sloganeering, but also without unfair, haughty criticism of the 'inferior' South. These people love their roots, acknowledge the few stinking sores, but also manage to present you the core of their mentality (which also has its plusses) without apologies. The approach used is endlessly fascinating, as their interweave autobiographical stories with myths, historical figures (legendary enforcer Sheriff Buford Pusser is one), events ("Ronnie and Neil" also touches upon the racist bombing in 1963 in Birmingham, Alabama, that killed four children) and fictitious tales about the workingman's ups and downs. In some way or other, the Truckers have managed to churn out increasingly satisfying records (from 1999's Pizza Deliverance to their most recent effort, each album has actually been an improvement over the previous one) that incorporate Southern rock, ragged Neil Young-styled stompers, country, the fervour of Muscle Shoals soul and a dash of no-nonsense hard rock to top it off. It's a cocktail that few bands manage to pull off (no matter how good they are, the Kings of Leon are the "boys" compared to the "men" of the Truckers) and when you scam the album reviews on their website, you'd think they're the most acclaimed band of the past few years. When you see them play live, it takes you about five minutes to understand why. It's a combination of dedication, energy, songwriting skills and a pure spirit that turns this band into a fearless rock 'n' roll machine. Three singers, three guitar players, three songwriters, it's a luxury, and even though Patterson Hood, Mike Cooley and Jason Isbell all have their own voices and styles, none of 'em is an obviously weak link (although I'll always have a weakness for Hood's tattered intensity), while their rhythm section (Brad Morgan - drums, Shonna Tucker - bass) is exactly the hard-working, soulful duo the three guys in the front need. I was hoping they'd deliver one of their legendary marathon sets (like when I saw them in 2002, when I hadn't even heard the then newly released Southern Rock Opera), but unfortunately, that didn't happen - it was a Monday for everybody. The band kicked off with the grinding "Putting People on the Moon," Hood's indignant stab at Reagan-era politics (when money was spent on prestigious projects and poverty not paid any heed to), and those venomous lyrics were delivered with incisive intensity. After that, each of the front men got his turn to present a few songs: Cooley lead them through "Shut Up and Get on the Plane" and the marvellous "Carl Perkins' Cadillac," Isbell embarked on "Never Gonna Change" and the touching "Goddamn Lonely Love" (with the classic line "I'll take two of what you're having and I'll take all of what you got"), while Hood came up with the almost surreal threat of "Tornadoes." About 40 minutes into the set, it seemed as if the band had settled for a set of rather laidback, mid-tempo grooves, but then "Decoration Day" transformed into "Ronnie and Neil" and the band finally proved they are one of the quintessential classic rock 'n' roll bands out there. Three guitars buzzed and roared and Hood's spit flew in all directions as he mixed the story of Ronnie Van Zandt and Neil Young ("Their feud was just in song") with the South's history. Isbell's "The Day John Henry Died," one of the highlights on The Dirty South, once again confirmed that the youngster's prominence in the band was deserved, while the band ended the set with the thrashing mid-tempo stomper of "Lookout Mountain," which sounded MASSIVE. Even though the crowd was probably more reserved than the band is used to, they rocked and did it HARD, trading riffs and smiles and energy, offering glimpses of the incendiary rock heaven a performance under ideal circumstances must be like. The encores basically kept that flame alive, with Hood rapping his lyrics to "Sink Hole" and "Zip City" stomping along like a madman on the loose. As usual, the band finished the set with "Let There Be Rock," a tribute to Satan's music of the highest order. No, Hood ain't seen Lynyrd Skynyrd, but he sure is pretty that he saw UFO and Molly Hatchet and AC/DC with Bon Scott, and he has every right to be, because him and the rest of the band delivered the goods. I'm pretty sure it wasn't an exceptional show to their standards, but when considering the fact that a "good" DBT-show is still "excellent" for 95% of the bands out there, I ain't complainin'. I even wonder if it's possible to not be in awe of this band.

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