In his book “1971”, David Hepworth talks about the change in live albums. He contends that, from that point on, the crowd became an actor in the drama; not merely people watching, but part of the record itself. And when you think of the great ones — Thin Lizzy, Motörhead, Iron Maiden and the like — he has a point.
“Scorched Earth: Volume 2 Live In LA / London”, though, feels a little different. This exists for one simple reason: to hear Philip Sayce play guitar like a man with something burning inside him.
Captured across a run of sold-out shows at The Baked Potato in Los Angeles and an over-capacity night at The Garage in London, it finds Sayce backed by Sam Bolle on bass and Bryan Head on drums. Between them, they make a glorious racket: blues grit, psychedelic soul, rock ’n’ roll fire, and the sort of chemistry that only comes when players know exactly when to cut loose and when to sit back.
It begins in a hail of riffs and grooves with “One Foot In The Grave”, which is never a bad way to start a live album. There is ample rock here, but soul is the key word. That becomes even clearer on “Once”, where the slower, more mellow feel lets Sayce stretch out and show just what a staggering player he is. There are guitarists who impress you technically, and then there are guitarists who make it feel as though every note has been dragged from somewhere much deeper. Sayce does both.
“Bitter Monday” is all feeling, thump and skill, and the solos are devastating. Not in a look-at-me way, either. They are dazzling because they serve the songs, because they rise and fall, because they understand when to explode and when to hold something back. By the time “Peace Machine” rolls around, this is almost perfect modern blues: fierce, fluid, emotional and played with such command that you wonder how anyone gets this good without selling something they probably needed.
The shorter songs are just as much fun, too. “Lady Love Divine” has the sort of big, open-hearted rock energy you could easily imagine Thunder getting their hands on, and that is meant as praise. “5:55” feels almost like Sayce’s own “Eruption”, a moment of pure guitar expression, and the way it segues beautifully into “Morning Star” wakes the record from its brief dream and sends it somewhere else again.
And then there is “Spanish Castle Magic”, because if you are going to go out, you may as well do it with all the soul, sass, funk, care and volume you can muster. It ties the whole thing up perfectly, then cuts loose one last time.
Maybe Hepworth is right and the greatest live records make the audience part of the story. This one doesn’t need to though. The drama is all in the playing.
RATING: 8/10
