Of the wondrously talented Wootens, bassist Victor, the youngest, got most famous first. But the eldest, guitarist Regi – his brothers call him the Teacher – owned the Troy Savings Bank Music Hall Monday with fire on the frets.
Wooten Brothers in Troy – From left, Regi “the Teacher”, guitar; Roy “Futureman,” drums; Victor, bass; and Joe keyboards. All four sing.
Regi
Victor’s high profile with Bela Fleck and the Flecktones, jazz collaborations, solo projects and amiable persona make him the natural leader of the quartet with his brothers Regi, drummer Roy and keyboardist Joe.
A family band (with their late brother, saxophonist Rudy) since Victor was five, the Wooten Brothers are a highly entertaining time machine set to the 60s/70s heyday of funky soul. Monday, as usual, they brought party-down dance floor glee, jazzy-jam freedom and messages of unity’s power for change.
Their anthemic opener “W-Double-O-10” flowed mid-slow with tight playing and all-in vocals before Joe led in “Not Just Religion” suggesting principle or morality don’t need church. The brothers seamlessly welded this into “Unity,” its earnest “thank a soldier” call underlining their heritage as Army brats.
Then things got playful. They teased with the bass line of the Temptations’ “Papa Was a Rolling Stone” before full-on funk anarchy erupted. Victor milked applause by announcing, then repeating, “I’ve got my brothers with me!” then introduced them all. Noting brother Joe’s long tenure with the Steve Miller Band, Joe played the trademark swirl from Miller’s “Fly Like an Eagle” to laughs onstage and off.
The show then segmented, brother by brother. Victor pulled “My Life” in all directions via looped bass tracks building to a cacophony before bringing it back home. He exploded one impossible riff after another, then another. Next Roy strapped on a guitar-like drum synthesizer to step front and ignite a James Brown tribute that he invited everybody inside, cueing happy audience chants of “Hah!”
Before the other brothers took their turns, they united in “John Coltrane,” the tribute their teacher Consuela Lee’s brother Bill Lee (father of Spike) wrote for the great saxophonist. They energetically wandered all over with this, a dynamic meditation that surged forceful and hot, simmered soft and gentle. Playing tight together is a given, but their sweet vocal blend here impressed even more.
Victor next explained the rediscovery of vintage (1970s) studio tapes honoring their late one-man horn section brother Rudy in “Come On Let’s Dance.” This starred Regi’s fierce guitar work, setting up his solo showcase that showed off tremendous riff power with lots of Hendrix influence (including quotes of “Castles Made of Sand” and others) plus wild echoes of Sonny Sharrock and James “Blood” Ulmer, a thrilling ride. Regi’s voice worked the tune hard, too, though he closed by singing a plaintive, yearning passage, like his bluesiest guitar runs.
Joe’s star turn also used vocals strategically, to jukebox classic soul and pop tunes including “This Is Your Song,” “Love Is Love Today,” “Someday We’ll All Be Free” and Everyday People,” with “Ma Cherie Amour,” as a framing device and a talk-box to distort his voice near the end.
Their recent release “Sweat” closed in cheerful, simple soulfulness, complete with stop-and-go coda and arm-waving the brothers coordinated with the crowd. They entertained at times with such stage-y business; Victor and Regi slinging their instruments around their bodies in unison, for example, Roy coming forward from his drum kit to synthesize James Brown beats and cheer-lead the crowd, or Joe going high-tech with his voice. But nothing got in the way of their astounding funk performing power in their fast-moving show; a bit short of two hours, but with no encore.
The fabled Motown studio cats were dubbed the Funk Brothers, but the Wootens own that title now.
Hoke's Jukebox 