Southern Fried

Rock My Soul

Perth Concert Hall

Rob Adams

FOUR STARS

You didn’t have to be a church-goer or to feel especially like a repenting sinner to have your soul rocked at Southern Fried’s finale. As has been the case since Sam Cooke’s defection to the pop world, and probably before that, if you changed the object of devotion in many of the lyrics sung here to an earthly man or woman, you’d have classy, powerful R&B.

An outstanding example was Freda McCrary’s He Cares, which has the sort of melody and groove that Al Green retailed in his Hi Records pomp – he might borrow it still – and found the youngest McCrary sister, not for the first time in this festival, in fantastically expressive voice.

The night began with the four McCrarys joining the current edition of their late father’s group, the Fairfield Four, in inviting us into God’s house with an unaccompanied vocal sound that the Fairfields maintained and expanded upon with terrific richness. In their trademark garb of DJs, bow ties and crisply pressed dungarees, they created some unbelievable, bass-rich harmonies, not least on Swing Low Sweet Chariot with their notes sliding and gliding into the perfect spot.

Sisterly harmony, with the occasional assertion of seniority, drives the McCrarys’ celebration of the Lord and his work and it’s one that, with their tightly in the pocket band, rocks like some Stones/Stax amalgam as well as brooding with Hammond organ reverence. Their singing and all-round effervescence, including Regina’s flamboyant but dead-on tambourine trickery, are a treat, and a full cast with guests Yola Carter, Willie Watson and Doug Seegers sent us off with a rain-countering blast through the evening’s title track.