In Pictures/Review: Porter Batiste & Stoltz feat. Page McConnell

The quartet brought the MOODOO to NYC's B.B. King's. Andrew DeRosa kindly contributed a full report which we've teamed up with Jeremy Gordon's typically stunning photographs.

"Good funk, real funk, is not played by four white guys from Vermont." However, good real funk comes out the pores of George Porter Jr. and Russell Batiste. George Porter is a living legend. He's up there with Larry Graham– except George Porter never got cheesy. He left that to Art Neville. With Art Neville out of the line up, the other members of the Funky Meters are unhinged. With the addition of cow-funker Page McConnell we've got some shit yo. The first few tunes the band was warming up and I could barely hear Page in the mix. I wondered if this would be the case all night– a shy Page playing some back-up all night. As Brent Mydland once described his roll in the Grateful Dead, Page was "adding color". He played a nice version of Jealous Guy, which sounded closer to the Donny Hathaway version with such a solid rhythm section behind him. It was weird hearing Page play clean piano from a Yamaha rather than the Baby Grand. After Jealous Guy, the rest of the set saw the band warmed up, locked in and inspired. Brian Stoltz can really take off on guitar and has the ability to dial in his tone. However, sometimes he just sounds like a talented New Orleans bar band guitarist– good, not great. I can't say enough good things about Porter and Batiste. They are motherfuckers. The real deal. For the second set Page was front and present and kicking ass. He pushed and led the band on a textured terrain of layered, driving psychedelic funk. Like listening to the first solo efforts by members of the Beatles, it was immediately clear how large Page’s contribution to Phish was. I sometimes dismiss him as a mere Mydland-ian colorist. Or rather dismiss colorists because they are not right up in your face. However, I was witnessing Page in all his glory, and I found myself feeling a bit more confident that a Phish reunion might not suck. The “four white guys from Vermont” should be taking notes from the playbook of legendary motherfucker George Porter Jr. on how to keep it real, because after 40 odd years in the industry, he was so real and so good.