A sold-out Queen’s Hall trembled under the Grammy-nominated guitarist’s blistering riffs, intimate ballads and moments of raw, human connection.
The Queen’s Hall was packed to the hot and sweaty rafters for a sold-out night buzzing with anticipation. Samantha Fish took the stage with a grin and was soon telling the crowd that Edinburgh had long held a special place in her heart.
From the first note of Paper Doll, a long-haired rocker at the front was moshing like there was no tomorrow, while photographers jostled for position in the pit. Fish owned the moment with her peroxide waves bouncing, leather tight and voice cutting through the packed hall as her red guitar played the blues like no one else can. It felt raw and immediate, with the room completely alive.
Can Ya Handle The Heat? saw Fish’s fingers flying over the fretboard to deliver the spiky riff and face-melting solo while the band with Ron Johnson on bass, Jamie Douglass on drums, and Mickey Finn on keys, lock in with her while exuding a Jimi Hendrix Experience-like energy. They raise the temperature in the room like flicking a switch. By the time she reached I’m Done Runnin’, Fish had moved to a Gibson 335 with a silver-sparkle finish. She raised one arm in the air, swept back her dirty blonde hair for a slight pause and let the hammer fall again.
On Bulletproof, Fish switched gears, strapping on a cigar box guitar that seemed almost too small for the ferocious sound it unleashed. With a silver slide flashing under the lights, she delivered riffs with machine-gun fire that was relentless. Every note and glide across the strings carries plenty of attitude. The infectious groove of Fortune Teller slowed the tempo, giving the room a chance to breathe before the pace picked up again. Fan favourite Dream Girl is delivered with delicacy, allowing the audience to fully immerse themselves in the intimate moment.
At the end of the set, the guitar seemed to cut out, Fish tried in vain to get the amp working again until her Mr Fix-It, Danny Bland, eventually coaxed the instrument back to life. The guitar thundered around the room again, while Bland raised his hand for the audience to begin the ritual of the encore roar. Fish soon launched into a final, victorious encore: Black Wind Howlin’, she was joined by support act Zac Schulze, another blues star in the making. Once again, the hall erupted, not just for the music, but for the sense that something rare and magical had been shared.
By the final chord, the audience was utterly mesmerised. Fish moved carefully along the stage edge, handing out guitar picks and setlists, giving one to a young girl whose eyes were wide with wonder. The crowd spanned generations, grizzled blues heads, young rockers and first-time concertgoers were drawn together by the same raw, unfiltered thrill.
It was proof that great music doesn’t need a five-figure ticket or a cross-country trek – sometimes it’s right on your doorstep, fierce, immediate and on fire.
