In Charlie Hunter's direction I arrived, unannounced. And it was swell.
Thinking This is an artist who is of the tapers-friendly genre, I wung it.
The last time I photographed Hunter - as part of the quartet - I was practically in his lap in a much smaller venue and was asked by his road manager to not use a flash - which I had thrown on for a few frames as the club has annoyingly uncooperative light and I'd rather get a wrist slapped and get something for publication than not.
Last night's venue is a cavernous mod stage where lighting is usually dim at best. The opener, Motet, was losing my huge interest until they did a number which was so deliciously drummed out into the primitive and then one which had two bandmates double drumming - very Japanesearific.
Charlie Hunter was fab and his happiness at the enthusiasm rushing towards him was visible. For Hunter I was tight tight on face and hands and instrument - not breathing. The light was that poor. Finally, flash time. All set up and waiting waiting anticipating and then (knowing only one flash looks like an ardent fan with a point & shoot to a backstage road manager and inhouse security) one frame explosion for insurance purposes.
One negative from the show: his concert shirts are lame.
Also, the unshaved rim along the jaw beard and sideburn connector borders on the country & western.