Review of Concert at Grosse Freiheit 39 Club, Hamburg, Germany.
Around 19 January 1989
THE LONELINESS OF THE BLUES BUILDS ALBINO WINTER UP TO AN INFERNAL GUITAR FIREWORK. THE MAN AND HIS GUITAR STILL CREATE PURE EMOTION, BREATHING NEW LIFE INTO EVEN EXHAUSTED BLUES STANDARDS.
The question of whether white people can play the blues is as old as it is boring. Johnny Winter, once one of the greatest idols of blues rock, probably never cared about this issue, otherwise he wouldn’t still be touring today and delivering such hard-hitting concerts like recently at the "Große Freiheit." With the album *WINTER OF '88*, he made a full comeback in the studio, and nothing could really go wrong live either, as he and his two companions Jon Paris (b) and Tom Compton (dr) have been on the road for years, most likely trying to break the record for continuous touring.
All the more endearing that the three of them are still not a soulless routine band, as Winter & Band need a good half an hour to warm up. Gradually, but irresistibly, like a huge truck setting off on a long journey, Johnny Winter reached his boiling point, and by the time he swapped his hideous guitar for a proper one, he started playing as fiercely as he hadn’t in a long time. Cutting, each note a lightning bolt, razor-sharp melody lines that in the next moment clump into chords and roll out of the speakers like giant firewheels – it’s strange, but it is still possible to create pure fascination with virtuosity.
While Winter staggers, croaks, and sways his hips from one break to the next, Jon Paris makes sure everything stays in place and occasionally pulls out the harmonica for extra emphasis. The secret master of ceremonies? No, that’s the guy behind the drums. Tom Compton plays like "Animal" from The Muppet Show, a reborn Keith Moon, unbelievably precise and present. A ZZ Top feeling, free of any brutality, a flowing inferno of organic drum discipline. Rare to see something like that.
The further their set progressed, the denser and hotter the music of the Winter Band became. And at no point was it annoyingly noticeable that the Texan fast-finger was actually only playing standards, aside from a few original songs like "Hustling Down in Texas." He’s an interpreter – but one with entirely unique, incomparable standards.
This fireworks display of solid, straight-as-an-arrow playing joy could have lasted a little longer than the meager 70 minutes, but so what: There are few concerts of this kind that leave a better memory.
WERNER THEURICH