Word: jeffs
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...always very tense before a show starts -- for the performers, doubts about another road-audience, for the crowd, the tightness of anticipation. Preparations continue in the last minutes on amps and mikes and lights. In a blue-carpeted backroom deep within the Boston Tea Party, the Jeff Beck Group kicks around a squishy soccer ball...
...tuned-up guitar. "Nahh. We never eat a big meal before we go on. If you're stuffed you get too self-satisfied on stage and then you can't play very well, can you? You have to be ugly inside to make it all come out." Said Jeff Beck...
...music is thundering and the light show irrelevant. Jeff Beck a streaming presence jerking, in sweat, on his guitar laying sheet after sheet of sound authoritatively down. The great Nicky Hopkins in one corner of the stage hunched over piano holding together the music with his discreet and rippling underpinning. Mick Waller on drums, his eyes fixed on Beck, face contorting, eyes glazed, his arms chopping, producing a sharp and clear rattling as each drumbeat rams more or less neatly into Beck's flying notes. Rod Stewart, the singer, a man of flinty beauty, and a fertile smile...
...prickling the silence with wisecracks and gibes to pass the time. When a sergeant enters, the guards are suddenly heel-clicking marionettes, wooden parodies of soldiers, drained of emotion as they parrot back orders. The camera lingers on the faces of Evans and O'Rourke, the Mutt and Jeff of the absurd, one fearful, the other flashing madness from bright blue eyes...
ROSENCRANTZ AND GUILDENSTERN ARE DEAD. Tom Stoppard borrows the Mutt and Jeff of the Globe entourage, keeps them in the Shakespearean situation, but endows them with 20th century complexes and complaints. John Wood and Brian Murray revel in the sometimes melancholic, ofttimes witty dialogue...