Let's Make A Racket - II

Hokay; it looks like Thursdays will be the day Old Dive makes an occasional racket.

Just so you know, I will not be posting any professional or studio stuff for copyright reasons; most of the stuff I put up here will be odd and obscure, usually live and usually crappily recorded and posted for no other reason than I feel like it at the time.
Today's racket was recorded in a small blues club on a hand held tape recorder; hence the total lack of quality.

The subject for today will be "Underplaying".
We've done boring rock guitar with widdly bits last week, but this week we're going to get subtle.

Here's some backstory:
Stevie, my bass player for most of our adult lives tragically developed motor neurone disease a decade or so ago and when he could no longer tour or gig regularly, he assembled a loose bunch of around forty of his favourite British musicians to start what became Sunday Blues, an improv night with different sets of musicians most of whom hadn't played together before, raising money for motor neurone research.

The First Rule of Sunday Blues was "check your egos at the door".
It was all about sensitive understatement and playing with feeling, rather than wanking around and showing off.

Steve hand-picked each line-up from the cream of the session circuit and top bluesmen, such as members of Peter Green's (ex. Fleetwood Mac; you must remember "I Need Your Love So Bad"?) band who regularly played, occasionally supplementing the line-ups with folk from international bands when they toured nearby.
Nobody had to prove anything so we could all chill out and play notes from the heart and the soul, rather than from the penis.

The audience were hyper-critical and anyone who got a little overexcited and showed off would get very short shrift.

The Second Rule of Sunday Blues was that nothing would ever be rehearsed; everything should be improvised on the fly. It was not a jam session; the line-ups were carefully selected to spark off one another and even though the audiences were packed with musicians, nobody was ever allowed to "come up and play". If they were good enough they would eventually get put in a line-up but there was one hell of a long waiting list and very few ever got promoted into the "regulars" (being a regular meant that, if you were lucky, you got to play once every four to six weeks).
You'd walk in and set up your gear, meet the other musicians - often for the first time - and Steve would call out a key and a count-in and off we'd go.
I loved every minute of it. At the end of each number we would all nod and grin like the band in the Muppets. It was just a bunch of "musicians' musicians" getting together to relax and have fun.

This recording is from a night sometime in the late nineties.
The line-up is:
Paul Tinkler: Vocals and rhythm guitar;
Stevie: Bass;
Jason Self: Drums;
Old Dive: Lead guitar.
The song is the old Albert Collins standard, "Cold, Cold Feeling".

For Istvanski: I was playing my custom Strat through the Boogie, Paul was playing his G&L tele through a Fender Bassman.
And in case anyone wonders, the thing Paul yells at me across the stage just before the last guitar solo is "Give it some SEX!" He has a wonderful way with musically descriptive terms.

Here's photo of "beardy twat" period Dive taken sometime around that geological era.