When John Martyn plays, the age, weight, and weariness fall away. I've heard the cliche "it takes years off him" applied to many performers, but John Martyn is the first person I've actually seen that embodies it. He's magnificent, whether performing glorious (yet somehow understated) guitar solos, or plucking away unconventionally during "Big Muff" (one of many high points).
After performing several songs on the electric guitar, Martyn switched to acoustic. "Oh, how very folky!" he exclaimed, shrugging his bulk into the guitar strap that his assistant had placed over his head. With the shift to the acoustic guitar, his voice became more subdued, yet retained the trademark John Martyn growl. He performed older tracks like "Don't Want To Know", and "Solid Air" (something I've always wanted to see live: that's another one off the list), "Sunshine's Better", and "Rock Salt and Nails". His performance was even more impressive during this part of the set.
I'm told he doesn't perform "May You Never" any more; apparently he's sick of playing it. It's a privilege then to have heard him sing it here. It's a beautiful song, and the audience agreed; it seemed that the whole room sang, which on other occasions I might find tacky but which felt quite moving here.
As the evening came to a close the electric guitar returned, and we were treated to one of the most astonishing live performances I have ever seen. Earlier in the evening, when Martyn commented on the heat (something he did many times throughout the set; he was dripping with sweat when he finished) someone shouted "Too hot for John Wayne?" - "He might make an appearance later" he replied. And what an appearance! I would ask any John Martyn fan to try to imagine the impact of a full-on performance of this song, but I doubt your imagination could come close - to actually see this unfold before me was genuinely breathtaking. The riff, the growling vocal, the power present in this performance was mesmerizing.
I felt certain that "John Wayne" would be the last track of the night; how could he possibly better it? His assistant returned and removed the guitar, leaving John looking strangely vulnerable without it. As the band played a gentle backing track, John used his most powerful instrument, that voice, to sing a heartbreakingly beautiful version of "Never Let Me Go". He seemed to be imploring the audience to remember him fondly, and yet almost seemed apologetic in some way. Once done he was helped off the stage to a roar of applause. I didn't expect an encore, and didn't get one - it's clearly an enormous amount of effort for him to move around.
Article comments