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Review: Smith/Kotzen, O2 Academy
Oh dear. Torquay cage fighter-turned-rocker Kris Barras has been felled by a tiny virus and has lost his voice. He’s pulled out of tonight’s support slot, so there’s a long wait for the headliner.
With Iron Maiden slowly winding down towards a comfortable retirement, the band’s members face a choice between the pipe’n’slippers or continuing to rock with other musicians. Maiden’s most unassuming of their three guitarists, Adrian Smith has tried the solo project thing before with Psycho Motel and A.S.a.P., who played the Bierkeller back in 1989. But they always seemed a bit under-powered.
On paper, Richie Kotzen seems an odd choice of musical partner having been slung out of Poison after a couple of years for shagging drummer Rikki Rockett’s fiancée. But in addition to being the token actual musician in Poison, he’s also been a member of supergroups The Winery Dogs and Mr. Big and is a shredder of some renown.
But while Smith/Kotzen (they couldn’t be bothered to think of a band name, preferring to come across like a firm of solicitors) shouldn’t work, in practice it does so magnificently, blending Smith’s gruff bluesy English style with Kotzen’s more slick, soulful American approach.
The scene is set by their intro tape of Bad Company by Bad Company from 1974’s Bad Company album (they didn’t waste words back then), which signals to the uninitiated – if any are present – that this is going to be an old-school, no frills rock show.
Backed by a talented but unobtrusive rhythm section (including Kotzen’s wife Julia Lage on bass), who clearly know who we’re all here to see, they concentrate on new album Black Light/White Noise and their self-titled debut, with a couple of tracks from the Better Days EP, comporting themselves with the dignity we’ve come to expect from rocking gentlemen of mature years. “What a great town this is,” enthuses Kotzen. “We got here yesterday and had a day off. I bought a suitcase. And a hat! Rock and roll!”
Mind you, as Phil Collins discovered to his cost, wealthy rock stars writing songs about homelessness is not always a good look. They just about get away with it with Darkside, though Smith’s throwaway comment when offered a change of guitar (“Might as well. I’ve got more than 100 of the bloody things.”) reminds us that they occupy a more elevated social strata.
Only during the encore do the duo acknowledge their lives outside the current band. Kotzen’s You Can’t Save Me from his solo album Into the Black is a splendidly self-lacerating account of the disillusioned rock star’s life (“Fuck your money/Fuck your fame/Fuck my life – I walk away”). Rising to the challenge, Smith opts for his 1986 Maiden song Wasted Years (a top 20 hit despite its downbeat sentiment, lest we forget), with the audience providing most of the vocals in the absence of Bruce Dickinson.
All pix by Mike Evans
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