Review by Shawn Perry
You couldn’t have asked for a better Friday night, seeing Hot Tuna — its core members Jorma Kaukonen and Jack Casady — play an acoustic set of their unique interpretation of the blues within the confines of the quaint, historic Franklin Theatre. Something about it just felt so right, so appropriate to the setting and tonight’s program.
The Franklin Theatre is about the size of an old movie theater, with tables and chairs in the front, near the stage, with about 20 more rows that run to the back. With Tuna in town, the place was packed. Once 81-year-old Jorma Kaukonen, in his usual Pendleton and jeans, and the younger 77-year-old, dressed-in-black Jack Casady, showed up on stage, the usual hoots and hollers echoed throughout before the room fell silent and the musicians began to play.
Kaukonen, who will be joined by Casady and a host of others for a belated 80th birthday celebration at New York City’s famed Carnegie Hall in April, assumed multiple roles — finger-picking guitarist extraordinaire, smoky-voiced lead vocalist, the general master of ceremonies, and comedic foil to Casady. A few words of wisdom or a little dry humor, and he’ll easily slip into any Tuna favorite — be it a standard blues number like Leroy Carr’s “How Long Blues” or Blind Blake’s “That’ll Never Happen No More,” or an original like “Broken Highway” or “Too Many Years.”
The guitarist talked about what he did during the pandemic, mostly spending time at his Fur Peace Ranch in Ohio, looking over old Hot Tuna material and striving to get back to his roots. Indeed, the framework of any Tuna tune is usually a patchwork of country blues, yet the interplay between Kaukonen and Casady takes it to another dimension. We’re talking about an intoxicating musical elixir that’s been brewing since the days of Jefferson Airplane and maybe even before when the pair first got together in Washington D.C.
Without fail, every time Kaukonen went into a deep, improvisation raga, Casady was right there, riding shotgun, angling between the weaving of the guitar. The agility between the two musicians mesmerized the audience, who roared their approval at every turn-around. “He never lets me down,” Kaukonen smiled after his partner punched out a soothing bass line that sort of hung in the air for a minute or two before descending into the ethers. You really had to be there to appreciate the subtle purity of Casady’s custom acoustic bass.
“Before we get too cheerful…” Kaukonen announced after a particularly lively “Ode For Billy Dean,” a standout from the group’s 1972 studio release, Burgers. But now it was time to pay tribute to the great Reverend Gary Davis with an enduring cover of “Death Don’t Have No Mercy.” Even though Bob Dylan and the Grateful Dead included the song in their live repertoires, it seems most at home in the hands of Hot Tuna.
A reverential reading of Jimmie Cox’s “Nobody Knows You When You’re Down and Out” lead to a story about the complexities of tuning. Once they got past the obligatory nod to the Airplane with “Trial By Fire” and “Good Shepherd,” the duo returned to the good Reverend Davis, imbibing “I Am the Light of This World” with spirited conviction and completing the main set with a soul-searching “Keep Your Lamp Trimmed And Burning.”
The two Rock & Roll Hall of Famers stood momentarily, instead of leaving the stage, then sat back down and encored with “Water Song,” one of their most beloved instrumentals. The chill of the night couldn’t contain the fire burning inside The Franklin Theatre from Hot Tuna’s performance. A pair of salty pirates, whose ‘embryonic journey’ evolved in the heart of Woodstock nation, comes to your local Nashville suburb — and you can’t imagine being anywhere else.
