Review: Reverend Peyton & His Big Damn Band, Thekla

The uninitiated might be forgiven for presuming that Imprints are a ska band, or maybe a soul revue, but no, despite the name they are actually a frenetic five piece that delivered a set best described as piratical Poldark folk rock. They started out at thrash metal velocity, then proceeded to accelerate; a grinning, singing ten-legged explosion of neo-shanties delivered with wit and joyfully evident pleasure.

Tom “Marmaduke” Cornwall and Tom “Booket” Bangham powered the band: the thundering yet nimble drums and forceful bass a groovy but solid foundation for the controlled chaos of the lead instruments. Vocals were mostly shared: Andy “Urban Steed” Truckle’s deep and powerful voice contrasting with and complimenting Annie “3Cannie” Wright’s choirgirl from the wrong side of the docks. The former chose to batter the crap out of his acoustic, no time for solos, the only surprise being that he didn’t break a string until the final tune.

Vince “Gingé” Martin’s violin was smokin’, played with the attitude of a shredder it dominated the songs (but in a really, really good way); a keening and alluring dervish dance, it was no wonder the only cover was a breakneck Devil Went Down to Georgia. Although this rendition was more the Devil Went Down to Cornwall…for a rum fuelled hoedown. Not the fastest tune in the set though, arguably that was the “…song about a chicken…” (aka Oncoming Tide) which made no mention of chickens at all focussing instead on sailing boats on the big blue sea. No, me neither. But then words didn’t matter quite so much as this set was for dancing like buccaneers on speed.

Zelda was a berserker, Sad Clown joyfully up-tempo and Pirates and Thieves a devilish earworm. The set closed with Get Me Out of Here, a tune both frantic and hilarious (Marmaduke faithfully replicating the frankly disturbing falsetto vocal introduction) as the band found new energy for a high octane conclusion to the set. Imprints are one of those bands whose exuberance is contagious, a glorious opportunity to dance, sing along and have a bloody good time. Go see them, be prepared to sweat and be prepared to grin.

The Tunnels hosted Reverend Peyton & His Big Damn Band on their last visit: a packed night, and a raucous night was had by all with the band on top form. A splendid night, but was that night a one off? No, it bloody well wasn’t and here’s the evidence…

Exhibit A: The songs. The Reverend and his band have tunes that come in two sizes: infectious (e.g. Pot Roast and Kisses) and irresistible (e.g. Clap Your Hands). The material is eclectic yet homogenous: blues meets country with a rock n roll attitude and yet pop nous for a killer chorus. Bean Blossom Boogie is always a highlight, Aberdeen opened the set with purpose and Devils Look Like Angels was suitably ornery. Whilst the old favourites were greeted with rapture, the new material shows the band and their muse remain on the best of terms.

Poor Until Payday (the title track of the new LP) was a robust number, instantly likeable and had the crowd singing along from the first chorus. You Can’t Steal My Shine was equally catchy and more uplifting than a lorry load of Wonderbras. Get the Family Together originally started out as Don’t Wait for a Funeral, a title considered too morbid, but its carpe diem theme struck home and again, the chorus was instant.

Exhibit B: The Musicianship. Maxwell Senteney is an assuming fellow but bugger me does he know the way round his (minimalist) drum kit. Rock solid, his beats drove the bluesier numbers; propelled the up-tempo cuts and he knows the secret of the swing – no plodding, no thumping; he never left the pocket and kept the songs honest. Breezy Peyton’s washboard really added zing to the songs. Whilst The Reverend gave us the bottom end and melody, ably supported by Senteney’s drums, her washboard really lifted the tunes out of the ordinary. The metallic zigging and zagging giving the tunes maximum zizz, pretty damn impressive too given The Reverend mentioned she was poorly bad.

As for The Reverend’s playing, well he excelled throughout whether on National, acoustic, tiny electric or cigar box guitar; ofttimes using his thumb to plonk out a bassline, his fingers picking out a melody. His solos were just the right side of off kilter to provide more unusual delights, augmented with delicious use of the bottleneck. And if you’re wondering how he got so good then listen & look here.

Exhibit C: The Showmanship. The band know how to write a tune and they know how to play ‘em. And oh boy, do they know how to deliver them…No posturing, no posing just musicians taking a pleasure in their craft with a sneaky, mischievous undermining of rock n roll cliché. Senteney performed a twenty second drum solo, having been blindfolded by a roadie, that was more entertaining than any self-aggrandising tub-thumper’s twenty-minute solo. Breezy was constantly on the move: striking a pose; grinning and gurning, lost in the music and concluding with the ignition of her washboard for a flaming finale. Said flames then being extinguished by Breezy swinging the washboard à la Daltrey.

The Reverend himself matched her for yards covered, kicked the crap out of a cymbal throughout most of the set and entertained with tall tales whilst exchanging banter with the crowd and encouraging plenty of audience participation. He peeled off solos with a grin on his face and none of the axe hero posturing still prevalent amongst many players. But then he also played an axe. No, really, he played an axe: a three-string chopper that he somehow managed to bring through customs (and with that mujahedeen beard too. WTAF).

Exhibit D: The Finale. The band know how to throw an encore too. Two Bottles of Wine easily matched the velocity of Imprints at their zippiest, the ridiculously rambunctious chorus (hollered relentlessly by the band and crowd alike) and remorseless beat gave all one last chance to shake their booty. The tune segued delightfully in to We Deserve a Happy Ending, a glorious, celebratory culmination of a sweaty set strewn with killer tunes, exuberant humour and weapons grade bonhomie.

The Reverend’s final words were a sincere request for his flock to bring friends to their next show, something Bristol 247 fully endorses. And don’t leave this review without checking out the hilarious hillbilly farce in the video for We Deserve a Happy Ending. If that doesn’t put a giant grin on your face and get your feet tapping, then you sir / madam / other should have a word with yourself. A serous word.

Reverend Peyton & His Big Damn Band: Thekla: Wednesday, 22 August 2018

All pix by John Morgan