Live Review: SIMO // Barfly, London – 08.04.16

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Hailing from Nashville, SIMO have established quite a reputation in the music world.  Known for intense volume, electrifying performances and most importantly, impeccable musicianship, the band did not disappoint.  

A roar from behind signalled the start of SIMO’s 50th (yes, 50th) gig of the year, as they entered through Barfly’s charming route to the stage – directly through the crowd.  The singer and guitarist, JD Simo, hobbled onstage clutching his vintage Gibson.  His huge stature, made even bigger with a mass of thick curls and flared jeans, was at odds with the tiny crutch: a result of the intense energy of the shows.  A raucous night at Paris last week left him with a dislocated knee.  

As JD settled into his chair, the bassist, Elad Shapiro, attempted to shout over the huge excitement that he was sitting down as an act of solidarity.  I looked at the people around me as they got tuned up.  A beautifully strange crowd – to my left a hulk of a man who looked like Thor and Legolas mixed together, with dip-dyed orange hair, and to my right, a rather effete-looking young gentleman wearing not one, but two cravats.  
My musings about the crowd are brought to a quick end as they launch in with three new tracks.  Although their latest album, Let Love Show the Way, has only been out for three months, the production of the next is already well underway.

SIMO are very unusual for a modern band, not only due to their prodigious touring efforts, reminiscent of their heroes from the ‘60s and ‘70s, but also due to their approach to recording itself.  The new album was cut entirely in live takes, within a 48-hour timespan in The Allman Brothers Band’s old home in Macon, Georgia.  Improvisation and spontaneity are as important for them in the studio as they are live.

After a scorching rendition of Long May You Sail, JD pulls out the 1960 Les Paul and cranks up the volume, confirming the opening act’s warning of, ‘I hope you like it loud.’  A Marshall amp with everything dimed – except the bass, which was on zero – created soaring lead tones, whilst Elad’s bass was so thunderingly loud that it made my clothes shake, and my drink pulsate in the manner of the Jurassic Park T-rex moment.  

Their band dynamic remained exemplary throughout: even through extended periods of improvisation, it never became sloppy and loose.  They are such well-experienced and compatible musicians that they can tell what the others are about to do without so much as a nod.  They came on without a setlist, making each show even more unique.  It was also a welcome surprise to see such a high level of humour, too.  As the drummer, Adam Abrashoff, delivered a staggeringly good 5-minute drum solo, bassist Elad started loading up his pipe, then played along with Adam, air drumming and hitting the cymbals with his fingers.  

They closed with an uproarious 12-minute rendition of With a Little Help from My Friends, as JD’s guitar prowess was further showcased, ripping out licks which fused Albert King, Eric Clapton, and Duane Allman, wrenching out each note with a face worthy of Paul Kossoff.  

As they made their way back to the dressing room, a modern-day-viking-looking fellow wearing a pink suit got up on stage, completely unprompted, and started the chant Seemo, Seemo, which elicited responses of Seemo, S-eye-mow (how his name is really pronounced), potayto, potahto.  Typical British crowd.  An encore of Howlin Wolf’s & Willie Dixon’s, Evil (Is Going On), brought the night to a fitting crescendo.  

Overall, it was the best gig I have been to in a long time.  Catch them when you can, but please don’t forget earplugs.  Thank me later.

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