John Mayall – Gimme Some Lovin’ / The Train

Sixty Hours Of Club Recordings And The Harmonica That Proved He Was A Master

Released in January 1968 as part of the double live album set Diary of a Band Vol. 1 & 2 on Decca Records, “Gimme Some Lovin’ / The Train” captured John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers at their rawest during a two-month touring period in late 1967. Both volumes reached the UK top 30 and the US top 100, with Volume 1 peaking at number 27 in Britain and number 79 on the Billboard 200. The medley featured Steve Winwood’s Spencer Davis Group hit segueing into Mayall’s extended harmonica workout, showcasing why critics considered him one of the great blues harmonica players despite his fame as a bandleader and talent scout. For an album culled from 60 hours of club recordings made by the band themselves without studio artifice, this raw document captured British blues at its most authentic and unfiltered.

The track appeared on Volume 2, opening the disc with what reviewers called great Mayall harp demonstrating his mastery of blues harmonica alongside stellar work on keys. The medley format allowed the Bluesbreakers to stretch out in the way they excelled during live performances, with “The Train” portion clocking in at over ten minutes of extended jamming. Dick Heckstall-Smith’s saxophone work provided counterpoint to Mayall’s harmonica, while 18-year-old guitarist Mick Taylor delivered the kind of fluid, melodic playing that would later make him the Rolling Stones’ secret weapon during their greatest creative period. Keef Hartley’s drumming and John McVie’s bass provided the rock-solid foundation that allowed the front line to explore and improvise freely.

Decca Records wanted to capture the Bluesbreakers in the environment where they excelled rather than in a sterile studio setting. The band recorded themselves during club dates throughout late 1967, accumulating approximately 60 hours of tape that producer Mike Vernon and Mayall sifted through to find the selected highspots. The sound quality varied wildly, with some tracks fading in mid-song and others cutting off just as the musicians were heating up, frustrating completists but thrilling those who valued authenticity over polish. Between songs, audience banter, press questions about new guitarist Mick Taylor, and mentions of Peter Green leaving to form Fleetwood Mac provided documentary context for a crucial transitional moment in British blues history.

The albums were recorded during the brief window when Mick Taylor had replaced Peter Green but before McVie left to join Green’s new band. Taylor had joined Mayall’s Bluesbreakers in July 1967 at just 18 years old, recommended by Eric Clapton after Green departed. The young guitarist already possessed a distinctive tone and touch that sustained the legacy established by Clapton and Green while developing his own more fluid, jazz-influenced approach. His work on these live recordings demonstrated why Mick Jagger would recruit him in 1969 to replace Brian Jones, leading to the Stones’ most critically acclaimed period spanning Let It Bleed through Exile on Main St. The interplay between Taylor’s guitar and Mayall’s harmonica on extended tracks like this proved both musicians understood blues as conversation rather than solo showcase.

John Mayall had established himself as the godfather of British blues, running the Bluesbreakers as an informal finishing school for young musicians who would go on to reshape rock music. Eric Clapton, Jack Bruce, Peter Green, John McVie, Mick Fleetwood, Aynsley Dunbar, and eventually Walter Trout all passed through his ranks. The Diary of a Band recordings captured the moment when Taylor was the latest prodigy learning the craft, with Mayall’s own instrumental skills often overshadowed by the brilliant guitarists he mentored. These extended live jams proved Mayall was far more than a talent scout. His harmonica playing possessed the urgency and emotional depth of the Chicago masters he studied, while his keyboard work provided sophisticated harmonic foundation that elevated his band beyond three-chord blues cliches.

The albums included curiosities like a ramshackle version of “God Save the Queen” recorded in a pub, musicians improvising after a disappointing show, and band banter that revealed the humans behind the music. Critics noted the frustration of incomplete performances and variable sound quality, yet these imperfections made the document feel real and immediate in ways that polished studio albums couldn’t match. The remastered deluxe edition released in 2007 improved sonic clarity while maintaining the raw character that made the original compelling. The medley became a touchstone for fans seeking the authentic club experience rather than manufactured perfection, capturing the Bluesbreakers doing what they did best without studio safety nets or second takes.

Sometimes the most important records aren’t the polished ones. Sixty hours of tape culled from smoky clubs where the band set up their own recording equipment, hoping to capture lightning in a bottle. The sound quality ranges from acceptable to barely listenable. Songs fade in mid-performance and cut off before finishing. But when Mayall leans into that harmonica on “The Train” and Taylor’s guitar responds with understanding beyond his years, all those imperfections vanish. That’s not a recording. That’s a document of the moment when British blues stopped imitating Chicago and became something entirely its own, raw and real and utterly uncompromising. The godfather of British blues teaching the next generation, with the tape rolling whether the sound was perfect or not.