Siobhan Long reviews Terry Callier at the Ambassador.

Terry Callier

Ambassador

Siobhan Long

An artist who wears his music lightly is as rare a phenomenon as the spotted platypus. Terry Callier performs with a graciousness and humility that most musicians could usefully emulate, if only they could corral their egos long enough to notice.

Callier fans straddle the length and breadth of the musical spectrum. From the Johnny-come-latelies (including this writer), who got their introduction courtesy of Beth Orton, to the stalwarts whose acquaintance stretches right back to 1960s Motown. Those immersed in the magic of Friday night's performance were unequivocally, deliciously,uncool, shamelessly getting into the groove within seconds of the opening chords of C'est La Vie, a joy to behold as their hips swivelled and their shoulders dislocated in quixotic time to Callier's soul-jazz rhythms. The rest simply hogged the bar and proffered nothing more useful than a constant conversational hum in the background.

Drawing much of his material from his 1999 gemstone of an album, Lifetime, Callier stewarded a heady mix of politicised debate and get-down grooves that would lure the most cynical of punters into the fray. His repetoire swung from Fix The Blame, about the self-delusional nature of xenophobia to a calculus-like tribute to Miles Davis, 4 Miles, to a song about the horrors of dictatorial regimes, Sierra Leone.

Despite the horrors of the venue - poor sound and no alternative to standing zombie-like in front of the stage - Callier and his magnificent band battled gallantly and overcame the difficulties. Gary Plummley on sax and flute, Bosco D'Olivera on percussion, Eric Hochberg on bass and a keyboard player (whose name sunk beneath the viscous sound) gelled like quartet genetically conjoined at the (musical) hip.

Terry Callier's days as a computer programmer might be over, but his recently rejuvenated musical career is a good news story that promises to run and run.