Pee Wee Ellis Funk Assembly review: Jazz zigzagged over ice cold funk

Still purring: Pee Wee Ellis
David Ellis @dvh_ellis13 February 2018

Some performers turn up, others make an entrance. Pee Wee Ellis – Alfred, though not since he was eight-years-old – raised no eyebrows by taking the stage to a band already digging firmly into the pocket, greeting the audience packed into Ronnie Scott's with open arms, smiling broadly, waving his sax, nodding at the cheers. It was the same way BB King used to come on; yes, the master is here and yes, it’s going to be a good one. At 76, he’s the grand old man of gettin’ on the good foot.

Ellis might have worked with Van Morrison in various guises over four decades, but it was the four years as James Brown’s bandleader that informed the evening – little surprise given it was the saxophonist’s love of jazz that helped turn JB’s soul into funk. No Ellis, no Cold Sweat, no Mother Popcorn, no Say It Loud, I'm Black And I'm Proud.

Like Fred Wesley and the JBs only a little while before him, Ellis' funk assembly glued themselves on the two and the four. Mark Mondesir snapped and clicked his drums with such obvious satisfaction each beat came out as though he were smacking his lips. On bass, Laurence Cottel toured the neck, filling in the gaps. A cover Stevie Wonder's Isn't She Lovely saw him on stunning form, but throughout his great runs gave the ground for Ellis to play off, and play off Ellis did.

His great tenor sound seemed as powerful as it always was. He growled, he purred, at times roaring and straightforward, at others mystic and full of jazz, notes bent wonky and stabs dancing either side of the beat. Against the hard funk of his band, it was woozy-making and pleasingly disorientating; a shot of absinthe in a glass of ice. In this, he was matched by the zigzag guitar of Tony Remy. Torched with distortion and trailing echos, his virtuoustic runs early on sounded dangerously close to being relics torn from the ‘80s, but his squealing flurries began to be so vital and compelling they earned huge cheers. The Chicken – the highlight, as it had to be – saw him run jazz lines that did backflips and cartwheels, the whole circus of acrobatic playing.

A full house hollered, the stamped floor rumbled along with the bass drum. Ellis, leaving the stage at around the 75 minute mark, smiled again, more knowingly than before: the master is going now, but thanks for the memories.

Create a FREE account to continue reading

eros

Registration is a free and easy way to support our journalism.

Join our community where you can: comment on stories; sign up to newsletters; enter competitions and access content on our app.

Your email address

Must be at least 6 characters, include an upper and lower case character and a number

You must be at least 18 years old to create an account

* Required fields

Already have an account? SIGN IN

By clicking Create Account you confirm that your data has been entered correctly and you have read and agree to our Terms of use , Cookie policy and Privacy policy .

This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged in