The Scottish National Jazz Orchestra's value as a resource took on another dimension with this latest project which pitted director Tommy Smith's always well prepared charges with the stone mason grit of Tam White's inimitable voice.

SNJO has worked with singers before but this was White's show and while the orchestra's members added creative solos, the Saughton bluesman was in his element.

He has, after all, waited some 50 years to take Ray Charles's place in front of a big band. The good times still rolled, though, especially when Brian Kellock jumped into Alright, Okay, You Win with a stormin' piano solo that transposed all the energy and electricity he and White create in their long-standing duo.

Drawing material from Charles and the Big Joes - Williams and Turner - White growled with malevolence on Evil Man Blues, introduced a note of roaring regret on Everyday I Have the Blues and infused Hallelujah I Love Her So with a roguish enthusiasm.

If Stevie Wonder's Living for the City didn't transfer from funk to convincing big-band swing, White will doubtless reflect that we're ay' learnin'. Mind you, he should know not to invite an Edinburgh audience to clap along to Shake, Rattle and Roll as citizens from the seat of Scotland's parliament exercised their democratic right to emphasise whatever beat they could find with comic results.

Rob Adams

SINGER Tam White has waited a long time for the chance to sing in front of a top class jazz big band. He featured on every item in the most populist programme the SNJO have ever presented, an amalgam of blues, jazz and rhythm and blues that epitomised the singer's approach over the years.

He was in good voice throughout, pacing himself nicely across a set that ranged from his own semi-surreal The Dream to classic r'n'b songs from the repertoire of Ray Charles and Big Joe Williams, many of which employed arrangements by the late Thad Jones.

It was fascinating to hear songs he has sung for years - Smack Dab in the Middle, (You Made Your) Move to Soon, Every Day I Have the Blues, Let the Good Times Roll - remade with the colour and impact of the big band instrumentation, and his own songs also came over well.

The SNJO continue to impress not only in the quality of their performances, but in their ability to produce splendidly idiomatic ensemble playing and soloing.

Kenny Mathieson

EDINBURGH'S redoubtable blues-shouter, Tam White - usually to be heard with a backing band, large or small - was professing nervousness at doing a solo show in the company of only his guitar, but in fact he delivered a near-consistently powerful set which ranged through the blues and beyond in St Bride's intimate (if appropriately Delta-hot and steamy) Back Room.

The singer varied his material sufficiently to sustain interest throughout and a packed audience was with him all the way, from the bleak eloquence of his own Nature of the Beast through blues standards such as the Muddy Waters standard Mojo Working (accompanied by an enthusiastic audience which was ready to give him full vocal support), gospel and even a grainy-voiced and affectionate rendition of the old James Taylor chestnut Fire and Rain.

There were some catchily worldly-wise nods to a chequered life, such as his Edinburgh flâneur's lament, Save me From Myself (a very Scottish cry from the heart, one couldn't help thinking) and the late Jim Croche's A Careful Man, to which White gave wry conviction. Robert Burns's Slave's Lament - 18th-century Scots blues? - also received sonorous, heartfelt treatment that really hit the mark.

Less memorable were excursions into country and a "wee ballad" of his own. However, the near-tribal drive of Mandancin' and the closing Long Time Comin' , hollered out over ominously thrumming, open-tuned guitar, ensured that, while much of his performance may have been, to quote his own lyrics "just the sound of a lost soul in trouble", he dispatched many souls out into the night feeling well satisfied.

JIM GILCHRIST

Full house for a legend undiscovered ***

TAM WHITE is destined to die penniless. Such is the way for the truly talented. The late great Alexis Korner described him as "the greatest undiscovered talent of our time" and who would doubt him?

The blues legend has been around so long Buddy Holly used to open for him. But despite White’s local notoriety as a fantastic blues singer/songwriter, fame has cruelly eluded him.

He was the first person to sing live on Top of the Pops. But, although he landed acting roles in Mel Gibson’s Braveheart and BBC TV’s Tutti Frutti, the limelight always seemed to be shining somewhere else.

Which is a shame, because Tam White is as good as (if not better than) many of the classic singer-songwriters he champions.

Favouring the acoustic approach, last night’s intimate Village performance proved what we already know about the former stonemason - he’s the real deal: no cosy bourgeois blues, no snoozeathon instrumentals, just wholesome music that ranges from folk, to reggae to funk.

When he sings, White spits gravel, and his pipes sounded in great nick as he recalled his early days on Stonemason’s Blues.

The handle-bar-moustached singer could hold an audience with an elastic band wrapped around a biscuit tin, but he was flanked by some excellent musicians. On his left, Dunfermline-born guitarist Neil Warden added a smooth sheen to proceedings on the six-stringer. While on his right, Andy Capp-lookalike Gary Martin was "bringing it on home" via a distorted sounding harmonica.

There was the inevitable sing-along audience-participation bit White is renowned for. However, his rendition of the Slaves Lament - a sonnet written by Robert Burns after he saw a slave ship docked in Dundee - is another slice of White magic.

It’s good to see Tam White appreciated by a full-house of fans who love and know him best.

BARRY GORDON - Evening News

With Neil Warden’s electric guitar his sole accompaniment, this stripped-down incarnation of the Tam White sound found the silver troubadour taking the rougher blues paths, crossing occasional rock and gospel territory, but enjoying a connection with the audience that saw Stonemason’s Blues and other self-penned slings and arrows sung and slung back with engaging humour. Ain’t No Sunshine and Heartbreak Hotel sounded workmanlike, but the misfortune of being Born Under a Bad Sign was in every rasping word and chord.

Warden’s unflashy switches from single note plucking to deft solos deferred to White’s raw bass baritone, freeing the older man to growl his languid yearnings and smoky yelps on T-Bone Walker’s Stormy Monday and Muddy Waters’s Got My Mojo Working. Pollution Blues is a passable contribution to the deservedly maligned eco-lyrics genre. But the hard, vivid Man Dancin’, the highlight of White’s new album, sounds set to become a standard.

JAY RICHARDSON - The Scotsman

Meanwhile, back at the ranch I was preparing to devour a veritable musical feast, starting out with a five star ‘Night of the Blues’ in An Lanntair Gallery with the legendary Edinburgh-born bluesman, Tam White, and guitarist extraordinaire, Neil Warden. Opening the show with a get-down-and-dirty version of Tam’s own ‘Pollution Blues’, the duo soon shifted into party-mode. They kept things going with a steady flow of self-penned blues originals and a handful of choice covers, which ran the gamut from gritty shuffles to sophisticated funk, with a smidgen of jazz, country and traditional all propelled by the unmistakably-masterful, soul-drenched bluesy vocals of Mr Tam White. Some of the highlights being ‘Blue Blue Feeling’, ‘Save Me’, ‘Stonemason’s Blues’, ‘Man Dancin’ and ‘Long Time Comin’, the covers of blues classics ‘Born Under a Bad Sign‚ ‘Stormy Monday’ and ‘Eyesight To the Blind’, John Hiatt’s country-tinged ‘This Is The Way We Make A Broken Heart’ and an arrangement of Robbie Burns’s ‘Slaves Lament’.

A world-class musician and entertainer, Tam’s real talent lies in his ability to connect with his audience in such an honest, down-to-earth way, that you’re drawn in, hook, line and sinker. From the moment he hit the stage... it was the real deal! There were a few handshakes and reminiscences about the last time he played in Lewis (at the Cross Inn), and I was off to my next destination.

It can be a bit confusing, the Speakeasy term. This year it could’ve referred to any of the three ‘Speakeasy’ venues – the studio at Perth Theatre (mmm…jury’s out on that one); the Salutation Hotel (great); or Perth City Hall (could go either way).

For Tam White’s appearance with his big band it was the City Hall, and the venue had been carefully set up cabaret style and with a low stage to create a pretty good space for the gravel-voiced singer.

Kicking off with accompaniment from just piano, bass and drums White whetted the enthusiastic audience’s appetite with a couple of jazzy numbers before inviting the first of his brass section – a sax player – onto the stage for a pretty laid back version of Summertime which featured some pretty tasty sax and piano breaks as well as White’s exemplary vocal.

Despite being Tam White fans, this was the first time we’d caught the jazz-oriented big band line-up live – generally our preference is for the harder-edged blues approach with the Celtic Blues Connection or (our favourite) Shoestring band line up.

However, a few more numbers including Ricky Lee Jones’ Easy Money and first set highlight Save Me had us pretty much converted. White’s own Save Me, in particular, was a pleasure with the piano player switching to a fitting gospel organ sound on his keyboard and the audience encouraged to play the part of a gospel choir, which it did happily.

The second set saw things move a little more upbeat with the full brass section (tenor and alto saxes, trumpet and trombone) on stage for numbers including let the Good Times Roll, Count Basie/Joe Williams’ Smack Dab in the Middle and up tempo crowd-pleasers Hallelujah I Love Her So and Everyday I Have the Blues.

With most songs faturing jazz-typical solo spots it was obvious that drummer John Rae had put together a first class band for White – trombone and piano breaks were among the highlights, but the playing was consistently brilliant throughout.

The two 45-minute sets were topped by two strong encores – Shake Rattle and Roll and one of the best performances of T Bone Walker’s classic Stormy Monday. Our only complaints are that it was all over far too quickly and it would have been nice to hear more of White’s own material – just one each of his own songs in each set wasn’t enough!
(© Dave Arcari 2003)

In Edinburgh Blues circles at least, Tam White is a legend. After winning his first talent contest at the Ross Bandstand in Princes Street Gardens aged 11, he rose to fame with the Boston Dexters, became the first man to sing live on Top of the Pops, gave it all up to become a drunk and a stonemason and finally made his comeback to appear alongside Mel Gibson in Braveheart. In the end, many would argue, he only missed the boat marked "superstardom" by a whisker of his walrus moustache.

For the rest of us, this is perhaps a good thing. After all, it is only rarely you get to see a musician of White’s calibre play in the back of a smokey Edinburgh pub. And it is a pleasure to do so. Supported by Neil Warden on guitar and Fraser Speirs on harmonica - aka Tam White’s Shoestring Band - White’s gravely blues numbers resonate with all the highs and lows of his long, strange career. From Robert Burns and White’s own Stonemason’s Blues, to T Bone Walker’s Stormy Monday and Elvis Presley, the Shoestring Band’s set builds bridges between American Blues and Edinburgh’s own distinct sounds.

Tam White has put on better, grander gigs, but propping up the bar, while some of Scotland’s great blues musicians play away behind you, is more than worth the hangover.

" ... Tam White's role as Scotland's pre-eminent resident blues-man is a cultural crossover which has increasingly worked against him. Give him a bodhran and a bagful of diddley-diddley tunes and he'd be off around the world surfing the wave of Celtic fashionability instead of labouring for the attention of an international blues audience which is still in nostalgic thrall to the English dinosaurs of the Sixties.

"But let's be thankful for small mercies. White remains a local treasure, his growly bass voice every bit the equal of any of his contemporaries, and ... Fraser Spiers and Neil Warden on dependable form.

"For this is no namby-pamby drumless trio. White's chunky guitar playing has become formidably percussive, and with impeccably rhythmic and melodic harp and guitar filling-in from Spiers and Warden, it is hard to imagine additional instruments being anything other than superfluous to a surprisingly powerful blast of sound."

Ninian Dunnett, The Scotsman, Monday 27 October 1997

From the moment Tam White's Shoestring plugged in their instruments and turned their attention on the audience, there was no escape.

Not that anybody wanted to. The set opened with Pollution Blues, a jagged-edge rock-blues number which lesser bands would be proud to offer as a rabble-rousing encore. And from there it just kept getting better.

Reminiscent of John Lee Hooker and Frankie Miller, Tam's gravel-and-broken glass voice is something that cannot be ignored. When he growls, "I was born to sing the blues", you believe him. Little wonder he was described by the late blues authority Alexis Korner as the greatest undiscovered blues talent of our time.

With that instantly recognisable voice, accompanied by an impossibly fragile Yamaha acoustic guitar, Tam would draw the crowds as a solo act. But the other two members of Shoestring weren't just there to hang on to his laces.

They helped to lift the gig into a whole new realm, and at times it was hard to believe that a trio could produce what amounted to a big band sound.

Dunfermline-based lead-guitarist Neil Warden danced his fingers along the fret-board, making it look ridiculously simple.

With a dexterity that defies logic, he moved through single-note picking to booming bar chords and funky riffs enhanced by deft touches of wah-wah. Harmonica player, Fraser Spiers made his high-voltage harp chuck, cluck and soar. When the mood required, it whispered softly, or screamed and roared with the subtlety of a fast approaching dive-bomber.

The sustained notes he wrenched from the instrument suggested he had somehow acquired the skill of drawing breath through the ears.

The audience loved it, yet few of them were hardened fans.
Rather, the majority turned up because they always went out on Saturdays, and this was the gig that just happend to be on. All were spellbound, and nobody felt the urge to argue when Tam eyeballed them and suggested it was time for a spot of audience participation.

Stunned

Numbers like Born Under A Bad Sign penned by Booker T Jones; the autobiographical Stonemason's Blues with its mesmerising five-note riff; and Man Dancin' had the audience whistling, tapping their feet and clapping their hands.

Yet the subtle treatment of John Hiat's This Is The Way We Make A Broken Heart left the audience momentarily stunned, afraid to clap lest they fracture the magic.

Although mainly based around the 12-bar blues format, the programme still had space for a couple of country ballads. There was even room for a whimsical yet deeply moving, Don't Wear Black, a song penned by Tam, as a personal tribute to the late Danny Kyle.

However, Shoestring is at its best when it injects a dose of rock into its set. The closing number, A Long Time Coming, was dark, granite-hard and tight as superglue on glass.

In rock mode it was difficult to tell who enjoyed themselves more; the audience or the band.
Tam White is more than a showman with a voice that sounds as though he gargles with razor blades. It is patently obvious he enjoys the music, and such is his enthusiasm, the audience has little choice but to enjoy it too.

At the close of the two-hour gig, the audience clamoured to buy the CD, The Real Deal, from which most of the gig's running order was lifted. Such was the demand that the organisers had to send out for another box.

Shoestring? May be - low budget, it certainly ain't.

Drew McAdam, Edinburgh Evening News, Monday 12 April 1999

The memories were stirring. The names of clubs across the road from other clubs in Edinburgh during the 1960s were being asked for and yelled out in chorus. B sides of scratchy old singles were being recalled, cheered and joined in with.

What's more, one or two of the instruments on stage hadn't been fingered in years - thirty-odd years in the case of John Turnbull, whose feeling for a blues guitar lick came back strongly as the Boston Dexters reformed to celebrate the glory days when their mojos worked and seventh sons plied their magic. Later, in front of a shouting, brassy Power of Scotland Big Band, Tam White was exhorting the good times to roll - and if there were moments of rustiness here and there along the way during the evening, and times when brawn replaced those deft touches that make the blues so personal, forgetting cares, bad luck and trouble was what this occasion was all about.

Tam White, at sixty, has earned the affection of generations of Edinburgh music lovers and here they were in their hundreds to honour his gruff, growling Howlin' Wolf of a voice and true blues craftsmanship. Opening with a genuine Scottish blues in Robert Burns' Slave's Lament, White and his Shoestring Band chugged and shuffled through tales of broken hearts, ill-starred birth signs and White's own working man's experiences as a stonemason, calling up the lonesome moan of the Pleasance and Grassmarket levees and cajoling the crowd into a hand-clapping, shout-along chain gang. It may have been White's party but as has long been his way, everybody had a good time.

This is White's classiest outfit yet. Twin guitars pick, slide, and snicker. Dr Brian Kellock romps gleefully over his keyboard. Duck's bum-tight horns punch White's message home. And King Crimson-Bad Company veteran Boz Burrell's fat fretless bass puts the roots under their toots. Pollution Blues, with its crying harmonica, and a pumping Johnny Guitar Watson's I Need It reached the notebook - but only through an act of sheer knee-steadying will. Happenin', as they used to say.

Rob Adams, The Herald

TAM WHITE got straight down to the business of rocking a busy house, with his all-star band line-up including former Bad Company bassist, Boz Burrell, west-coast harmonica wizard Fraser Spiers and Neil Warden in superb form on lead guitar.

A seamless set spanning two decades of his work focused on his contemporary repertoire, encompassing a vast array of influences from folk, jazz and all the way to hip-hop. Several refreshing soul standards, such as Let The Good Times Roll were thrown in for good measure.

By now fiftysomething, his understated style and low, gravely voice do much to soothe the soul - and there was plenty of good-humored chat at the ready. Superb melodies, vacuum-tight arrangements, and an awesome musicianship are hammered home by his ability to make it all look so easy.

In an excellent two-hour show, White and his band were sounding great, perfectly suited to the Spiegeltent's general good vibe and cheer. A fabulous night.

Marlene Zwickler, The Scotsman, Friday 21 August 1998