A couple of weeks ago I was walking home with Catherine and some friends from France, when I heard a very nice blues guitarist singing through the warm summer night in the window of the bar opposite to our flat. The man sure knew what he was doing and so I opened the window of our living room once we were upstairs and listened to him singing while downing a good night cap. Although there must be thousands of musicians playing in the streets of Big B every night, it doesn’t happen every day that you can listen to someone really great.
I forgot all about the man until a week later David French and I stumbled into the Soulcat on Reichenberger Straße for a last beer to finish up a nice evening celebrating his imminent departure to Brussels. After a while, a guy stepped into the tiny blues and soul bar and started playing songs. I immediately recognised the guy as the man who had impressed me so much the other night. He started tapping his feet and then cried out his blues songs all written by himself – a proper old school blues man without a great sense of rhythm and a rather idiosyncratic way of working his guitar; his English tainted with a German accent but, oh my, a blues cat full of soul!
The place started heating up immediately even though there must have been only ten of us listening to him in the bar. He played on for about half an hour, had us rocking on our chairs, tapping the tables and clapping our hands – and then decided it was time for a break. It turned out that he was pretty loaded with what looked like an unholy mélange of too many beers, whisky and weed. He used his break to go around with his hat and maybe sell one of his demo albums. I bought one off him telling him I had heard him in that bar up the road the other night and I complimented him for his great style. He just mumbled something back in German I didn’t catch and then walked away just to come back about a minute or so later to ask us if we wanted to buy one of his demo albums.
After a while he picked up playing again and now people stopped outside and came in from the street listen to our man. He played one amazing song called “Cocaine” (which had absolutely nothing to do with Clapton’s old, cheesy tune) and then called it a day. Everybody in the bar urged him to play one more and so he asked the girl behind the bar if it was ok for her for him to play another one and she just said “alright, go on then”. He then told us he was going to play another song called “Cocaine” and that he had altogether three songs called “Cocaine”. We laughed and said “alright, go on then!” and then he played another “Cocaine” song.
French and I left the bar loaded a while later and stumbled down to the the canal to enjoy another very last beer and we had a nice and long talk. We haven’t met since but it sure was a very good night to say farewell for some time.
I checked the Internet for the blues singer the next morning. The guy’s name is David Necchi and you can listen to his songs here: http://www.davidnecchi.bandcamp.com
Best thing to do though, is to go see him play live. Just walk around in Berlin Kreuzberg somewhere between Görlitzer Park and the Landwehrkanal on a weekend night and you will surely suddenly hear him somewhere howling out his blues, working his guitar and tapping his feet in a weird rhythm.