Category Archives: Uncategorized

Beyond Austin’s City Limits: James McMurtry and The Gourds, Cedar Cultural Center, Minneapolis, MN 11/10/12

Posted on by
Reply

20121111-161516.jpg

20121111-161551.jpg

The Continental Club relocated 1200 miles North this past Saturday, from South Congress Street in Austin, to Cedar Avenue in Minneapolis, changing its name to the Cedar Cultural Center in the process. There, two mainstays of the Austin music scene, James McMurtry (top photo) and The Gourds (bottom), entertained a sold out house on a chilly, stormy night.

Lanky, laconic James McMurtry is simply one of the best storytellers in the business. Call him the chronicler of the common people. In five to six minutes, he can encapsulate one couple’s tumultuous lifetime relationship (“Ruby and Carlos”) or offer a scathing political commentary on the economic hardships of the working class (“We Can’t Make It Here”). His magnum opus, “Choctaw Bingo,” reads like an epic poem, Homeric in its description of an extended, dysfunctional, co-dependent family – or, as McMurtry himself described them, “the congregation of the First United Crystal Methodist Church.”

Taking the stage without an introduction (unusual for The Cedar), McMurtry and his band – longtime drummer Darren Hess and relative newcomer “Cornbread” on bass and vocals – began with “Bayou Tortue,” the hard-driving opening tune from the “Just Us Kids” CD. From, there, he moved quickly into the slinky, seductive “Red Dress,” featuring the wry verse: “Yes I’m drunk but damn you’re ugly / Tell you one thing yes I will / Tomorrow morning I’ll be sober / You’ll be just as ugly still.”

As brilliant a wordsmith as he is, McMurtry is a man of few words between songs. He keeps his stage patter to a minimum, preferring to express himself with his songs and his formidable guitar chops. His narrow vocal range has been the subject of some criticism, but a case can be made that his vocal limitations make his lyrics that much more effective. With no verbal histrionics getting in the way, the listener’s focus is on the powerful images and messages being conveyed by the words themselves. Still, one can’t help but wish that he’d show some emotion, or even crack a smile occasionally. Instead, he barely changes facial expression from start to finish.

With no new album to tout, McMurtry served up a satisfying set of old favorites, including “Just Us Kids,” “Hurricane Party” (true to form, McMurtry eschewed the obvious opportunity to comment on Sandy), “You’d a’Thought” (subtitled “Leonard Cohen must die”; sorry about that, Nanker!), and, of course, “Choctaw Bingo.” Switching to a 12-string, McMurtry sent his bandmates offstage for one solo acoustic number, before bringing them back, along with longtime guitar tech/stage manager/sound board operator Tim Holt on guitar, for the final trio of “We Can’t Make It Here,” “Level land,” and “Too Long In The Wasteland.” McMurtry and Holt traded solos on both of the latter two songs, including a lengthy guitar break in “Wasteland.” Drummer Hess drove the beat so intensely on “Wasteland” that he broke a stick. Then, with a wave of his Lagunitas IPA and a “Thanks for coming out tonight,” McMurtry left the stage with the rest of the band, and left the audience clamoring for the encore that never came.

Next up were The Gourds, that lovable quintet who mix a little Cajun, a little N’awlins, into their alt-country stew. Front man Kevin Russell (aka “Shinyribs”) is the polar opposite of James McMurtry, in terms of stage presence. Full of self-deprecating physical humor, he dances about like a bandy-legged rooster, gyrating his arms and hands as if he was in a high school dance line. He is warm and witty, fully engaged with the audience – and, he plays a mean mandolin. Versatile musicians Max Johnston (mandolin, fiddle, guitar, lap steel) and Claude Bernard (accordion, keys, guitar) anchor either end of the stage, while co-leader/bassist Jimmy Smith (who splits songwriting duties with Russell) and Keith Langford (drums) provide the rhythm. And, everybody sings!

Opening with some New Orleans-style funk, the band quickly moved into “Country Love,” a bouncy barn dance number from the 2009 “Haymaker” CD. Shinyribs and Jimmy alternated on lead vocal from song to song, mixing older tunes with selections from their new release, “Old Mad Joy,” recorded at Levon Helm’s Woodstock studio, with Larry Campbell producing. The album is a departure for the band – literally and figuratively – taking them away from their comfort zone in Texas, where they produced or co-produced most of their other releases. “I Want It So Bad,” in particular, stood out, with its easygoing beat and nimble accordion work by Claude B.

The Gourds are noteworthy for throwing snippets of other songs into the middle of a tune, especially if they can make a local connection. During their cover of Warren Zevon’s “Werewolves of London,” for example, Shinyribs suddenly broke into The Replacements’ “I Will Dare,” followed immediately by “Makes No Sense At All” by Husker Du, before the band circled back to “Werewolves” in time for a few more “Ah-OOOHs!” from the crowd. Shinyribs clicked off all the various venues where the band has played on its many trips to the Twin Cities, including Lee’s Liquor Lounge (“taking us back to the gay 90’s”), the 400 Bar, the Turf Club, now adding the Cedar Cultural Center to the list.

The band closed strong, honoring a request for the seldom heard “Lower 48” (name-checking all of the continental United States), and including a killer cover of the Bobby Fuller Four’s “I Fought The Law.” But the real treat, of course, came during the encore set. After the fairly sedate country-folk tune “Gray On The Green Hillside,” McMurtry and his band joined The Gourds for a 15-minute mashup of their cover of Snoop Dogg’s “Gin And Juice.” Shinyribs kicked it off, singing the opening verse over his single-note mandolin strumming, then everyone else joined in, rockin’ the rhythm into full-blown dance mode. Instruments changed hands over the course of the next several minutes and, during the very lengthy bridge, we were treated to selections from a half-dozen disparate rock songs, none of which had even the remotest connection to Snoop Dogg or “Gin And Juice.” And, it was a total blast! First, Jimmy Smith stepped up to the mike to sing a few verses of The Kinks’ “You Really Got Me.” McMurtry got into the act with some lines from “Sweet Jane,” by Lou Reed, then back to Smith for The Ramones’ “I Wanna Be Sedated.” Darren Hess followed that with The Faces’ “Ooh La La,” then Smith reminded us that “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” before Shinyribs closed off the mayhem with – what else? – “Purple Rain,” busting a mando string in the process. Snoop Dogg’s old gangsta rap tune was barely recognizable within the controlled mayhem onstage, but it was an exhilarating crescendo to a terrific showcase of two of Austin’s finest bands. Y’all come back real soon, y’hear?

Shovels & Rope, 400 Bar, Minneapolis, MN, 11/7/12

Posted on by
Reply

[Regrettably, Correspondent Gebippe left his trusty smartphone at home for this show, so you’ll just have to close your eyes and conjure up your own images. But then, you can’t read the review with your eyes closed, now can you? Hmmm.]

It was the night after the election and most of us in this part of the country were in an upbeat mood. What better way to celebrate the outcome than to go out and hear live music? For 10,000 or so souls, that meant taking in the big arena show in St. Paul, featuring Bob Dylan and Mark Knopfler. For 200 of us, however, the husband-wife duo known as Shovels & Rope was the ticket.

Thanks to extensive touring and widespread festival exposure, South Carolina-based Shovels & Rope (Michael Trent and Cary Ann Hearst) have been rising Americana/roots music stars in the five years since their first album was released. Distinguishing themselves from other popular duos (Black Keys, White Stripes), Trent and Hearst both play guitar, harp, keys and drums, switching off instruments as the songs dictate. Drawing on their rich Southern musical heritage, Shovels & Rope combine elements of country blues, hillbilly string band, folk and rock ‘n roll – sometimes within the same song. The result is an engaging, crowd-pleasing mix of beat-heavy uptempo numbers and passionate ballads, all delivered with sincerity and conviction.

Taking the stage at the 400 Bar, S & R were quick to sound a conciliatory note. “We’d like to do a unity song,” announced Michael Trent, before launching into a slowed down (and apparently unrehearsed) version of Nick Lowe’s “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding.” The mix was terrible initially, with Michael’s guitar over-amped and Cary Ann Hearst’s vocal woefully under-miked. Fortunately, balance was restored for “Boxcar,” introduced by Cary Ann as “The first song we ever wrote together.” The ballad employs a Bonnie and Clyde outlaw-lovers-on-the-run metaphor, showcasing the couple’s signature harmonies. Ad-libbing from their set list, Hearst & Trent covered material from both Shovels & Rope releases, as well as their own individual albums over the course of their two-hour long show. The selections ran the gamut from a murder ballad (“Shank Hill St.,” from the new release, “O’ Be Joyful”), to a waltz (“Mexico,” from their 2007 eponymous album) to a self-described “folk song” (Michael Trent’s “When I . . .” from his 2009 solo album, “The Winner”), to Cary Ann’s country lament, “Who’s Gonna Raise These Babies? from her own solo release, 2011’s “Lions & Lambs.” In between, they mixed in a hoedown (“Kemba’s Got The Cabbage Moth Blues”), a rock ‘n roll anthem (“Hail Hail”), and perhaps the only song in the last 100 years to include the word “chifforobe” (“Magdelina”).

Through it all, Trent’s tenor voice complemented Hearst’s rich alto splendidly, regardless of the context. All in all, a joyous night of music and a fine way to celebrate the – merciful! – end of the campaign season. O’ Be Joyful indeed!

Leonard Cohen

Posted on by
Reply

Concert Review- Leonard Cohen, Broomfield, CO 11/3/12

Our humble Mountain correspondent Nanker Phledge catches the Bard of Brooklyn in Broomfield!

Leonard Cohen– photo by Paul Bergen/European Pressphoto Agency

The first thing I’d have said about  Leonard Cohen before Saturday night was that several brainy women I’ve met over the years have told me that he is a ladies’ man. Which, having seen photos and clips, I found hilarious.  Spock in a Fedora with the voice of Mr. Ed; this is sexy?  But with the news of his return to touring a couple years back, I was drawn by the story of the aging poet/musician ( tough to call him a singer; even his self-mocking lyric ” I was born with a Golden Voice ” brought laughter from the crowd) who awoke in his Zen Bhuddist retreat to find that his longtime  manager had cleaned him out, and was forced back to recording and touring, yet managed to summon the muse sufficiently to release two fine CDs and garner rave reviews on tours around the globe. Reviews of his shows and a recent biography, “I’m Your Man”, by Sylvie Simmons, further piqued my interest, so when offered a ticket by my friends the huge Leonard fans, I gladly jumped at the chance. And folks, as you can see below, your boy Phledge was not springing for these ducats. Thanks again, my dear friends!

This ain’t the no-cover poetry night at the local gin mill!

Now, when they say “ON STAGE PROMPTLY AT 8PM”, they ain’t lyin’. You might’ve thought we were seeing the symphony at the Buell the way the PA called out ” the show will begin in five minutes”, but it was in keeping with Leonard’s holistic approach to the evening, with the stage backdrop, the lighting, the hanging lantern/balloons around the ceiling, even the set list, all calculated to present a unified effect. This was no spontaneous happening, but a carefully choreographed performance, much more like a Broadway musical than a rock show. Not that there’s anything wrong with that! But it was another lesson in avoiding expectations or bringing your own agenda to a live performance. Leonard was going to do his schtick, brilliant as it is, and there was no point wishing for something else that night. Like improvisation or spontaneity! Yet, the man pulled it all off, in spades, even for a hard-boiled cynic like Yours Truly.

The pacing of the show was impressive. A song would end, the stage and backscreen lights would dim, techs ( also rockin’ Fedoras) would exchange instruments and hustle off, the lights would come up, and Leonard would lead the band into the next tune, sometimes by an a capella recitation of the chorus or lead-in that would later be sung with the full ensemble, including his version of the I-Threes, collaborator Sharon Robinson and the sublime Webb Sisters. The band was stellar, with virtuosos from Barcelona, Moldovia, and Mexico all taking nice runs and solos to the apparent rapt attention of Leonard, who would stand respectfully facing the soloist with his Fedora over his heart in tribute. These gestures may be well-rehearsed, and repeated night after well-paid night, but Leonard managed to make them appear heartfelt and genuine.

Leonard took the band through several tunes well-known to the packed house of Caucasian geezers and young hipsters, including ” Suzanne”, ” Everybody Knows”, and ” I’m Your Man”. Unlike most frontmen who expand their gestures and moves as the venues grow larger, Leonard took the opposite tack, compacting his movement into a batter’s stance-like crouch, with only short, well-timed hand or foot movements to punctuate lyrics and choruses. Riding his longevity, familiar catalog, and poet’s gravitas, Cohen held the crowd’s rapt attention, even when letting his able sidemen take their turns in the spotlight.

Following a song toward the end of the first set, Cohen lifted the mike before the applause stopped and began an a capella recitation of his poem  ” A Thousand Kisses Deep”.  For even the most compelling performers, this risks killing the show’s momentum, forcing the artist to start over with the audience. Cohen was so convincing in his delivery, and so absorbed in the message, that it almost seemed rude to speak or interrupt him. Instead of dragging the show down, the spoken word seemed to inspire the crowd, and Cohen ripped through two other numbers ( Hey, I admitted I don’t know his catalog) before announcing a brief Intermission… again resembling a night at the opera or symphony.

The second set included more of his older, well-known songs, including the oft-covered     ” Hallelujah” and ” Anthem”. Cohen opened by playing a small electric piano, and when he was able to struggle through a short, thoroughly pedestrian melodic interval with his right hand, the adoring crowd cheered as if he had nailed Rachmaninoff. “Thank you, music lovers”, Leonard responded sarcastically, knowing that most of his band could have played that with their feet. He graciously let all of the singers take their turns, and the players their solos, introducing each as the finest exponent of his instrument on the planet, as if he were the Sparky Anderson of bandleaders. When everyone had been introduced twice, he gleefully skipped — yes, the 78 year old guy looked nimble- offstage to close the show and begin the Third Act– the encores. I lost track after he had come back onstage three times and played at least seven songs- not that I’m bitchin’! The man displayed incredible stamina and control throughout, and there seemed not to be a lyric, note, or gesture that was beyond his watchful gaze onstage.

When the lights finally came on and it was clear that he was not coming back again, there seemed to be a cathartic exhale from the crowd. It’s exhausting to have someone command your attention for two hours, and for virtually every minute, you just couldn’t keep your eyes off the guy. Truly one of the most compelling onstage performers I’ve witnessed, despite a langorous voice that makes James McMurtry sound melodic, and no vocal range whatsoever. But who needs a perfect voice? As Leonard Cohen sings in “Anthem”: “Ring the bells that still can ring / Forget your perfect offering / There is a crack in everything / That’s how the light gets in.”

Sometimes light gets through the crack in Mr. Phledge’s halo — Ed.

The Wallflowers / Trapper Schoepp & The Shades, First Avenue, Minneapolis, MN, 10/27/12

Posted on by
1

20121028-162445.jpg

20121028-162506.jpg
[Top: Trapper Schoepp & The Shades, with Rami Jaffee of The Wallflowers sitting in on keys;
Bottom: The Wallflowers, with Gina Romantini, returning the favor, on violin]

It’s standard operating procedure for a reviewer to ignore the opening act, or, at best, to make casual mention of them in the closing paragraph. But this is seeyouattherockshow.com, not The New York Times, so screw that noise! Trapper Schoepp (pronounced “Shep”) and The Shades made enough of an impression that they’ve earned a fuller exposition.

If the Americana Music Association is taking nominations for showcase openings for the annual Americana Music Festival, here’s a vote for Trapper Schoepp and the Shades. TS & TS are a young, guitar-heavy, roots rock sextet from Milwaukee. They recently released their second album, “Run, Engine, Run,” a solid sophomore offering of catchy Americana tunes, all written by Trapper Schoepp, and showcased in the band’s opening set. Full of youthful energy and enthusiasm, the band tore through eight songs in 35 minutes and left the audience clamoring for more. Tatted, dreadlocked fiddle player Gina Romantini was a stunning focal point in her short, ruffled black skirt, sawing away furiously at her violin while pogoing like it was 1978. Rami Jaffee of The Wallflowers joined the band for the final two songs: “Pins and Needles,” which Trapper said he wrote while he was recovering from back surgery, and “Tracks,” a rollicking song about leaving, with the refrain, “Can we go and never come back / Let the dust rise up and cover our tracks.” Fortunately for us, Trapper & Co. will be back in Minneapolis at the 7th Street Entry on November 30, opening for Cory Chisel & The Wandering Sons. If you’re interested in seeing a band on the rise, this is a show not to be missed.

If absence is supposed to make the heart grow fonder, you couldn’t prove it by the turnout for The Wallflowers’ First Avenue concert. Despite a mid-week “buy one/get one” ticket offer sent out to First Avenue members, the club was only at about two-thirds of its 1,400-person capacity when the band took to the stage on Friday night. The band’s entrance music was the Dave Clark Five’s “Glad All Over,” a nod to the fact that The Wallflowers chose that as the title to their first album in seven years. Opening with “The Devil’s Waltz,” from the new album, Jakob Dylan & Co. quickly ventured back into more familiar territory, with “Three Marlenas,” from the breakout 1996 release, “Bringing Down The Horse.” The band was confident and self-assured, including new members Stuart Mathis on lead guitar and vocals, and Jack Irons on drums. Rami Jaffee was particularly impressive on the Hammond B-3 organ. Jakob Dylan, alas, suffers a similar lack of vocal depth and color as his famous father. His singing is earnest and effective, well enough suited to the mid-tempo rockers and slower ballads that form The Wallflowers’ signature sound, but not particularly distinctive.

The band really hit its stride about 5 songs into its set, when Gina Romantini was brought onstage to join them for “Reboot The Mission,” one of two songs on the new album featuring a guest appearance by Mick Jones of The Clash. “Reboot” has a vintage Clash sound, dark, brooding and ominous – the best song Joe Strummer never wrote. Romantini’s soaring, insistent violin work seemed to inspire the band, and she stayed on for the following number, “6th Avenue Heartache.” “Heartache” was the high point of the set, featuring terrific solos by Jaffee on piano, Romantini on fiddle, and Mathis on slide, as well as Dylan’s best vocal all night.

Unfortunately, the peak occurred about one-third of the way through the show. The remainder of the set list, drawn heavily from the new album, was well-played but did not resonate emotionally with the crowd. Dylan was talkative and engaging (unlike his old man), which kept the audience involved and interested. “One Headlight,” near the end of the set, drew the loudest post-“Heartache” applause, with Dylan toying with the song’s phrasing and Jaffee and Mathis trading licks. When the band finished its set, one song later, waving and walking off the stage, it was questionable whether they’d muster up enough applause to coax them back for an encore. Many folks were simply standing around chatting with one another, hands in pockets or wrapped around drinks, not sufficiently inspired to clap, stomp or whistle the band back onstage. Fortunately, they did return and, equally fortunately, they had the good sense to once again bring Gina Romantini onstage for the encore, ending with a rave-up version of “God Don’t Make Lonely Girls.” Once again, she was the catalyst that seemed to bring out the best in the band. So . . . got any openings for a female fiddler, Jakob?

Mid-week Treat: Kevin Bowe & The Okemah Prophets, Cause Spirits & Soundbar, Minneapolis, MN, 10/24/12

Posted on by
Reply

20121026-182620.jpg

There were good reasons not to go out on the town this past Wednesday. For one thing, being Wednesday, it meant that there were still 2 more 5:00 a.m. wake-ups ahead, before the end of the working week. Also, our Minnesota Indian summer had just come to an abrupt end, with cold drizzle and a brisk NW wind encouraging a bunker-down mentality. So, settling in on the couch, I began thumbing through the local A & E rag, when a club listing suddenly leapt off the page at me: Kevin Bowe was playing that night at Cause Spirits & Soundbar, in Uptown Minneapolis.

Bowe has a solid reputation in this town, having been an early supporter (and producer) of “Kid” Jonny Lang. He’s also produced albums by Shannon Curfman, Renee Austin, Tommy Castro and The Meat Puppets. He co-wrote four songs for Etta James’ Grammy-winning album, “Let’s Roll” and, at one time, was hired as a staff writer by the legendary songwriting team of Leiber & Stoller. A longtime collaborator of former Replacements leader, Paul Westerberg, he played guitar on several of Westerberg’s post-Replacements tours. In short, the man has cred.

I had recently purchased Kevin’s new CD, “Natchez Trace,” and was digging it immensely (one of his songs is plugged on the Heavy Rotation page on this site). The CD garnered a rave review from fellow blogger Karl Leslie, who called it “masterful” in his post on nodepression.com. The local major daily’s music scribe also hailed its release, and even Rolling Stone jumped on Bowe’s bandwagon, choosing “Everybody Lies” as its free Daily Download on September 28. Reading the club listing more closely, I spotted the magic word: “Free.” “Grab your coat, Sweetie,” I told The Missus, “we’re going out!”

Apparently, not everyone in the community shared my enthusiasm for this gig. The small crowd of youthful hipsters in the front bar pretty much stayed there all night, content to chat in groups of 2 or 3 while the muted big screen TV broadcast the Giants’ beat-down of the Tigers in Game 1 of the Series and the house sound system blared old Bee Gees tunes. Of course (?). In the back room where the stage was located, I could count the number of fans in attendance on the fingers of both hands – including Kevin’s wife, and the 3-person band that was booked to follow him. Bowe and his fellow Okemah Prophets – drummer Peter Anderson and bassist/harmony vocalist Steve Price seemed unfazed by the small turnout. One got the distinct impression that this gig was, in effect, a dress rehearsal for their upcoming – and better publicized – show on November 9, at the Dakota Jazz Club, where they’ll share a bill with Freedy Johnston (of “Bad Reputation” fame) and local songstress Allison Scott (Kevin is also her manager, producer, guitarist and collaborator). As dress rehearsals go, it might as well have been opening night.

The band hit the ground running with their cover of John Lennon’s “I Found Out.” Stripped down to the bare essentials of guitar, bass & drums – the DNA of rock ‘n roll – this garage band workout was the perfect opener. From there, the band moved into the very Westerberg-like “Gutters of Paradise,” part of the trilogy on “Natchez Trace” that Bowe calls “The LA Suite.” Lest you conclude that this is some sort of paean to the idyllic SoCal life, guess again. Bowe makes no bones about his utter disdain for the whole artificial Los Angeles scene. A more appropriate title for the trilogy would be “The LA Sucks Suite.” The set list was drawn almost entirely from the new CD, with the exception of an obscure Dylan track, “Seven Days,” recorded by Bowe several years ago. For the most part, the songs came off very well, even in the absence of the many high profile collaborators who appear on the album – including Scarlet Rivera, Nels Cline (Wilco), Freedy Johnston, Chuck Prophet, The Meat Puppets, and Mr. Westerberg. “Fallen Satellites,” minus the pedal steel, was even more spare and wistful than on the album. “Waitin’ For The Wheel” came off as more rocking, less country than the original, also for lack of a lap steel in the mix. However, for want of Scarlet Rivera’s soaring, haunting fiddle work, “In Too Deep” lacked the emotional depth of the album cut.

Kevin and the Prophets closed out strong, catching their breath with a slower cut (“My Favorite Pain”) before rattling off song # 2 of the LA Suite, “Devils Garden,” another garage band number (“Just Restless”), and another Westerberg-influenced punk rocker, “Never Don’t Stay.” Shifting gears to finish their hour-long set on a more subdued note, Bowe & Co. offered up “Haven’t You Heard?” a kiss-off song to a former lover. Unfortunately, the 10 of us in the audience couldn’t muster up enough applause to coax the band back onstage for an encore. Probably just as well; 5:00 a.m. comes pretty early.

Capsule Reviews: The Week In Review, 10/14 – 20/12

Posted on by
1

20121021-113246.jpg

20121021-113302.jpg

20121021-113316.jpg
[Top: The Psychedelic Furs, First Avenue, Minneapolis, MN, Sunday, October 14, 2012;
Middle: Calexico, Fine Line Music Cafe, Minneapolis, MN, Tuesday, October 16, 2012;
Bottom: Publicity still for the movie “Charlie is my Darling; Ireland 1965”]

(Our sleep-deprived Northern correspondent, Harry Gebippe, reflects on a veritable musical cornucopia in the Twin Cities for the week just ended.)

There was something for everyone – and too much for anyone – if you were looking for reasons to go out to see live music in the Minneapolis – St. Paul area this past week. From the bars to the theaters, concert halls and arenas, it seemed as though a number of bands and artists were looking to get their obligatory Twin Cities dates in before the snow flies. Teen idol (formerly Tween Idol – my, they grow up fast!) Justin Bieber did the shake-and-bake on the Timberwolves home court. Speaking of Justin: just in time for Halloween (rim shot, please!), the newly reconstituted – and seasonally-appropriately-named – Smashing Pumpkins shook the creaky, sonically-challenged old Roy Wilkins Auditorium in St. Paul, while the original lineup of 80’s sludge rockers Dinosaur Jr. rocked The Cabooze. Like up and coming female pop songsters? Then you should have been at the State Theater for Regina Spektor. How about the blues? Johnny Copeland’s daughter, Shemekia, brought the house down at the Dakota. Prefer your music acoustic? Bela Fleck teamed up with the Marcus Roberts trio for some furious banjo-pickin’ jazz, while Leftover Salmon noodled and jammed their way through . . . whatever entered their heads at the moment. Alt-country more your bag? Then shame on you if you missed the Old 97’s celebrating the 15th anniversary of their “Too Far To Care” release at First Avenue. Did I forget anyone? Oh, yes; renegade country pickers Whitey Morgan and the 78s lit up Lee’s Liquor Lounge downtown, while in Uptown, Commander Cody punished the 88’s at Famous Dave’s BBQ & Blues Bar to close out the week. Whew!

And you know what? We didn’t see any of the above, and we still managed to fill our musical plate and push away from the table stuffed and satiated. For starters –

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 14: The Lemonheads and The Psychedelic Furs, First Avenue.
The front men of these two bands were a study in contrasts. Where Evan Dando of The Lemonheads was reserved and workmanlike, by contrast Richard Butler of the P Furs was all about the show. Dando churned out big thick chords on his white Gibson SG to accompany his 90’s college-radio friendly songs (“Down About It,” “It’s About Time” “It’s A Shame About Ray”) but was terse in his comments to the audience. Still, the cognoscenti were singing along to every tune and the loud ovation at the end of the ‘Heads set gave way to an equally loud groan when the large TV screen began lowering, signaling that there would be no encore. Like the Lemonheads, the P Furs played it smart and safe, sticking to the tried and true old songs, which the crowd lapped up like free beer. Opening with “Only You And I,” the band quickly segued into their second biggest hit, “Love My Way,” with R Butler belting out the lyrics with that distinctive foghorn voice. He prowled the stage from side to side, whirling and twirling, slapping hands with the fans up front, and generally acting the male equivalent of a diva. The set list was strong, leading up to the inevitable crescendo of “Pretty In Pink.” It was surprising that this mega-hit, with its instantly recognizable power chord opening, was neither the set closer nor the first song of the encore. Equally surprising was the arrangement, in which the power chords were nearly drowned out by Mars Williams’ sax. Although still a crowd pleaser, it came off more Springsteenish than the familiar post-punk anthem. As The Missus and I left the club at the end of the night, smiling and humming the chorus to that song, I noticed for the first time the color of the wristband the door guy puts on you when you enter the club. Pink. And pretty, too.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 16: Calexico, Fine Line Music Cafe
It’s a challenge to attempt to define Calexico’s sound. As the name implies, the band has one foot on either side of the border, melding Latin jazz and traditional Mexican music with North-of-the-border rock and country. The songs are alternately dreamy and ethereal (“I can hear the desert in their music,” commented The Missus) or punchy and up-tempo. The 2-man trumpet section of Jacob Valenzuela and Martin Wink dictates the pace and mood, from the urgency of the new single, “Splitter” to the slow-building “Victor Jara’s Hands,” off the 2008 release “Carried To Dust.” In this, their first Twin Cities appearance in over 2 years, the band offered a generous sampling of new songs and old standbys, the latter including a stunning version of “Crystal Frontier,” (reputed to be wounded Congresswoman Gabby Gifford’s favorite). This is truly an international band, including the aforementioned Mr. Wink, from Germany, Spaniard guitarist Jairo Zavala, and Latinos Valenzuela and Sergio Mendoza (keys). Given the varied backgrounds of the band members, the multi-influenced sound of the band is not surprising; if anything, the surprise comes from the fact that the co-leaders of the band are a couple of Anglos, Joey Burns (lead vocals, guitar) and John Convertino (drums, percussion). It would be tempting to add a comment here about how much better this world would be if nations could cooperate as beautifully as do these diverse musicians. But, I’ll demur.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 19: “Charlie Is My Darling,” Parkway Theater
OK, this wasn’t a live show, but it was a major musical event nevertheless. “Charlie” is a black and white film chronicling the Rolling Stones 1965 sweep through Dublin and Belfast. The movie was filmed by Peter Whitehead, at the direction of Stones’ manager Andrew Loog Oldham, who claimed, in a post-movie interview with Foo Fighter Dave Grohl, that it was never intended to be released commercially. Instead, said Oldham, given the Stones’ exploding popularity (“Satisfaction” had just gone to # 1), the idea was to get the band used to the ubiquity of cameras – not just in interviews or during performances, but in virtually every aspect of their lives. The title itself comes from Oldham’s observation that “the camera loved Charlie [Watts],” a comment I found curious, since the predictable space-eater, Mick Jagger, seemed to find his way into more frames than any of the other Stones.
The concert footage was riveting. The band hit the ground running in the first show, with “This Could Be The Last Time,” and never let up. Jagger showed us the manic dance moves he’s replicated thousands of times in the four-plus decades since, teasing the audience by doffing his white jacket and swinging it back and forth toward the front row, before tossing it backward toward the back stage. Psych! “Time Is On My Side” and others from that era whipped the crowd into a frenzy. Pandemonium broke out, with fans and security personnel alike being pushed aside and trampled by a couple dozen determined concert-goers who stormed the stage, running amok, knocking over equipment and bringing the show to an abrupt end. I wonder how those folks feel about their grandkids moshing, slam dancing and crowd-surfing today? The more candid, off stage footage was equally intriguing, showing the Glimmer Twins working up a new composition in their hotel suite, or goofing on Elvis tunes while getting progressively drunker. Excerpts of backstage interviews with each individual Stone were both humorous and revealing. “I’m not a musician,” declared Charlie Watts, “I just play drums.” “The future as a Rolling Stone is uncertain,” intoned Brian Jones. And, Mick Jagger’s remark to close the movie: “There isn’t any secret [to the Rolling Stones]; it’s all pretty obvious!”
Before the movie started, the video for the Stones’ brand new single, “Doom and Gloom” (from the greatest-hits-plus-two release “Grrrr”) was shown. Just when you thought it was time to write their obituary, the band proves that there’s still life in those old bones. Calling the song “classic Stones” is both cliche and understatement. It is a stunningly good, hard rocking tune, albeit with somewhat apocalyptic lyrics. Sure, it’s only rock ‘n roll, but we like it, love it, yes we do!

Kelley Hunt

Posted on by
Reply

Concert review- Kelley Hunt at the Crystola Roadhouse, Woodland Park, CO 10/19/12

Kelley Hunt and band at Crystola Roadhouse, Woodland Park, CO 10/19/12

The irascible Mr. Phledge heads for the hills to catch some live blues!

When advance notices like these come in, you turn your head:

“Hunt’s latest CD (GRAVITY LOVES YOU) sounds like her best yet – which is high praise considering the quality of her 2009 release, “Mercy”. Hunt’s songwriting shines on powerful, moving compositions like “Deep Old Love,” “This Fall,” “In the End” and the title cut. And she proves she can shine on the keyboard as well – with dynamic inspired playing throughout.”
Terry Perkins ST. LOUIS BEACON

“…Hunt’s vocals and captivating piano playing work together to lift each composition to gravity-defying heights. With each new release – this is her fifth – Hunt’s velvet-smooth voice is further defined.” “This is a superb production with the subtle colors Hunt is famous for…”
BLUES REVUE (Jul/Aug ’11)

“This Kansan is a full-blown phenomenon: Powerhouse singer, hard boogieing pianist, polished songwriter” —-MINNEAPOLIS STAR-TRIBUNE

With local promoters Amy and George Whitesell bringing reliably good acts to the mountains, who could resist a ride up the Ute Pass to the Roadhouse? Way up past Pikes Peak, this joint is loved by a mix of bikers, cowboys, locals, hockey fans, and even Seniors if you happen to roll in there on Mondays, when they only serve bargain burgers and the bluehairs ( ” Smile when you say that, sonny..”) pack the place. But you can add blues fans to that mix, now that we’ve seen a steady stream the likes of Jim Adam, Ronnie Baker Brooks, Samantha Fish, and Chris Duarte roll through this classic Western roadhouse where you can see straight from the diner through the bar to the dance floor and stage. The walls are covered with cowboy photos, hockey memorabilia, Harley-Davidson gear, mounted heads of bison and bighorn, handbills from shows featuring Patsy Cline and Nashville artists, and a place of honor reserved for the poster of Merle Haggard standing next to six cases of George Dickel. They don’t suffer much pretense at the Roadhouse, and how could you, when the smoke from the fire pit on the back deck covers even the well-groomed with a layer of… ahhh, isn’t that Ponderosa Pine? The locals say that if you catch the house vegetable beef soup, yep, that’s the remaining prime rib from Friday in there. Take that, Mrs. McNabb! The barmaids all look capable of whupping any patron’s ass, so there’s rarely even a dust-up that doesn’t quickly end in a call for another round.

( Someone go down there and reel Phledge in, he’s veering way off course..-Ed.)

And don’t forget that huge poster of a very close-up Johnny Cash flipping the bird to the camera that proudly hangs right above the drum kit stand! This note’s for you!

Kelley and the band arrived on time and were ready to go at 8pm sharp, despite having played in Thorold, Ontario the night before. That’s a 6am Eastern wakeup in Buffalo, flights to Vegas and Denver, and a two-hour drive from DEN to Teller County. Despite the brutal travel, Kelley, her manager/hubby Al, and the band were genial and appeared well-rested, chatting up their fans new and old before the show.

The guys is relatively new. Bassist Kenny Ames of Nashville has been with Kelley for three years, but Nashville drummer Hamilton Hardin and Detroit guitarist John Rhoads only came on for the current tour in May. Kelley spoke of how the band reshaping was “all for the better”, and warned fans that these guys didn’t know all of her old material, only selected favorites, including one she later bowed to repeated requests,   ” Queen of the 88s”.

The real ” Queen of the 88s”

A rousing intro by George Whitesell welcomed the band onstage, and Kelley soon displayed the terrific voice and amazing hands that the rave reviews had promised as she moved through selections from her 2011 CD, ” Gravity Loves You”, including the title track, “Music Was the Thing”, “I’m Ready”, and “Land of Milk and Honey”. The set revealed a wide range of styles, including Gospel, Cajun, Jazz, and Blues reminiscent of not only the rockin’ boogie of Jerry Lee Lewis or Fats Domino, but the thoughtful pacing of Gregg Allman, particularly his cover of Jackson Browne’s ” These Days”. Kelley, you oughta work that one into your set! The band was excellent, particularly guitarist Rhoads, fresh off his self-described “Master’s Degree” playing the East Coast with blues veteran Motor City Josh. Notably, despite the vagaries of travel, equipment, and venues, the set ran like clockwork, with no delays for tuning, wiring, or babbling that can plague shows ( sorry Hamilton; drum solos are best suffered from the Men’s Room). A well-paced set is the mark of a veteran in control of her evening, and Kelley made the train run on time.

Late in the first set, Kelley switched over to a big red electric Ibanez and chose two covers: Dylan’s ” Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door”, and Nick Lowe’s ” ( What’s So Funny ’bout) Peace, Love, and Understanding”. The former was particularly moving, with Kelley sharing some remembrances of friends  passing too soon, including one who came dancing toward her in a dream, reassuring her that it was okay to sing “Knockin'” at his memorial. Kelley is a pro, and she might have delivered that intro enough times to do it in her sleep. But Friday night, it seemed to come from the heart, and the response from the crowd was palpable. Though not a ” dance number” by any stretch ( and to call some of that dancing would be a further stretch), the floor was jammed by the end of the song. Many were milling back to their seats when the band launched into the latter tune, perhaps best covered by Declan McManus ( that’s Elvis Costello to you ). Kelley and the band nailed a spirited version, and she proved to be no slouch on the guitar, laying a rhythm base for some soaring solos by Rhoads, he perhaps being spurred by Kelley’s mention of his beloved Tigers’ sweep of the Yankees the night before.

Rockin’ out on the Nick Lowe classic!

During the break, John assured our table that “Queen of the 88s” was one of the early tunes that he and the band had learned for the tour, and that Kelley would break the set list to play it if we asked. Thankfully, a knot of knowledgeable fans around the stage kept banging for ” Mary, Mary..”, the piano teacher who brought out the boogie-woogie in a young Kelley and inspired the song, and soon Kelley had the room jumpin’ with her  storytelling signature tune, backed by a left hand on the keys that Jerry Lee would love and a band reveling in the reason they had traveled all those miles.

” The only time that ever seems too short is the time that we get to play…” – Jackson Browne, “The Load-Out”

Having visited Kelley’s site, I knew the band was headed next for Tucson, some 800 miles away. But none of them seemed daunted by the four-day  Ontario-Colorado-Arizona itinerary. As John pointed out to the Tigers fan at our table, ” It’s Friday night; we don’t have to be there until Sunday”.

Tift Merritt at The Cedar Cultural Center, Minneapolis, MN 10/6/12

Posted on by
Reply

20121011-201324.jpg

In the summer of 2010, Tift Merritt made a stop at the Fine Line Music Cafe in Minneapolis, in support of her “See You On The Moon” release. A few songs into her set, stellar sideman Eric Heywood’s amp cut out on him, while switching guitars. While Eric and the stage crew worried over the equipment, Tift grabbed her big Guild dreadnought and motioned to bassist/harmony vocalist Jay Brown to join her as she stepped off the stage and into the Fine Line crowd. A murmur went through the audience: “What is she doing? Is she losing it?”
But, no. Grasping Jay’s hand for balance, she stepped up onto a centrally-located table, while the patrons cleared off their drinks, steadied herself, and began playing and singing “Keep You Happy,” a tender love song from the new album. (The photo above recreates the scene somewhat, albeit at a different time and place.) Instantly, the crowd quieted down and listened in awed, respectful silence. Those seated in the balcony leaned over the rail to get a closer look at the amazing, unscripted spectacle. Even the barflies stopped their nattering about the goddamn Twins long enough to soak in the simple, beautiful sound of those two voices and that one guitar, unmiked and unamped, pure and unadorned. The standing ovation when they finished and returned to the stage was more heartfelt and spontaneous than the obligatory ones at the end of a set. Watching this special, unrehearsed moment unfold, from my perch against the wall, I told my companion, “THIS is why I go out to see live music!”
The downside of such a fleeting event is that it can never be recreated again. To be sure, one hopes and expects that equipment will function properly, players will hit all the right notes, singers will be in good voice and remember all the lyrics, and the whole show will pull off without a hitch. Still, it’s the artist’s ability to read the room, react to the crowd, adapt to the unexpected, and improvise on the fly that – for me – makes for a truly memorable concert experience.
On this particular night, there was very little adapting or improvising on the part of Tift Merritt. Thankfully, there were no technical difficulties to overcome – indeed, the sound was lush and crystal clear. Yet, one couldn’t help but hope for that one special moment, where the setlist was cast aside and on-the-spot inspiration took over, if only for a brief time.
But, this is a minor quibble for an evening of good music, well played. The Cedar show was just the 2nd stop for Tift on her current tour. As such, the between-song transitions weren’t as smooth as they will be 10 dates hence, and Tift’s stage patter was awkward and stilted, initially. In fact, it wasn’t until after the second song, (“All The Reasons We Don’t Have To Fight,” from the “See You On The Moon” album) that she spoke her first words to the audience – and then, only, “I’m not ready to talk to you yet.” In fact, two songs later, she repeated the same sentiment. The Cedar crowd, always respectful and indulgent, did not seem to mind, and Tift gradually warmed up, after a few selections from the new CD, “Traveling Alone.” She became more emotionally involved in the material, less distant, and more engaged with the crowd. At one point, as Tift switched from guitar to piano for “Small Town Relations,” a woman from the audience called out “Your hair is pretty!” Amid the laughter from the crowd, Tift turned to the woman, beaming, and replied, “I have been in a car with three men all day and that just made my night!”
This brief exchange seemed to break the ice, and Tift became more talkative, noting that this was the 10-year anniversary of the release of her first album, a milestone she called “disturbing, yet comforting,” before launching into the title track of “Bramble Rose.”
Throughout the evening, her 3 bearded sidemen provided masterful support. Minneapolis native Eric Heywood was nothing short of brilliant, switching effortlessly from pedal steel, to lap steel, electric and acoustic guitar, with spot-on leads and fills on every song. Long time band mate Jay Brown (“My best friend!” Tift announced), not only provided nuanced bass work but sang beautiful harmonies. Newcomer Tony Leoni mixed brushes and mallets with his stickwork on the drum kit, tastefully and appropriately.
By the end of the evening, the early distancing of the artist from the audience had completely vanished. Before the final song of her 3-song encore, Tift announced that she was going to come out afterward and “have a beer with y’all!” Regrettably, my buddy was driving and didn’t care to stay. Too bad for us; for all I know, she may have climbed back up on a table with that big old Guild dreadnought and belted out a reprise of “Keep You Happy.”

Patterson Hood & The Downtown Rumblers, Fine Line Music Cafe, Minneapolis, MN 9/24/12

Posted on by
Reply

The esteemed Mr. Hood at the Fine Line

20121010-191831.jpg
“G G Allin!” hollered a guy from the bar, as Patterson Hood and the rest of the Downtown Rumblers took to the Fine Line stage. “There’ll be no ‘G G Allin'” Patterson replied, barely cracking a smile.
No, there would be no “G G Allin,” no “Sinkhole,” no “Let There Be Rock,” nor any other rowdy Drive By Truckers rave-ups. Dude, that’s a CELLO onstage, fer crissakes! The cool cover tonight would be a smoothly rocking version of Big Star’s “September Gurls,” not Jim Carroll’s manic “People Who Died.” That vaunted three-guitar lineup? This night, it consisted of Patterson on acoustic, with the Campbell sisters (from the too-precious opening act, Hope For A Golden Summer) gently plucking and strumming along. And, to top it off, not a Jack Daniels bottle in sight! Clearly, this was not going to be a Drive By Truckers show, nor even DBT Lite. Instead, with a set list long on tracks from his fine new CD, “Heat Lightning Rumbles In The Distance,” augmented by a careful selection of songs from his previous solo and DBT work, Patterson explored themes of family and friends, leaving and loss. Welcome to the inner world of Patterson Hood.
Of the roughly 20 songs played that night, fully half were from the new album. Opening with “Leaving Time,” Patterson gave us the flip side of “Road Cases.” Where the latter celebrated the camaraderie of the touring rock ‘n roll band, “Leaving Time” considers the impact on the family left behind: “Do what your told without a fuss / Run the errands and load the bus / Don’t forget to give a damn about us / When it comes to leaving time.”
More introspective, personal songs followed: “12:01,” a sad new reminiscence about the “zombies,” who would cross the county line from Patterson’s home, where the more liberal liquor laws would allow off sale to take place a minute after midnight Sunday; his remembrance of “Little Bonnie,” a sister who died before Patterson was born; “Daddy Needs A Drink” – by this time, who didn’t?; culminating in another new song, “Disappear,” in which the protagonist notes, “Sometimes it’s much better to just not be there.”
“September Gurls,” quickly broke the somber mood, with “Bulldozers And Dirt,” (proudly introduced as “The first Drive By Truckers song ever recorded, on June 10, 1996”) and “Uncle Disney” adding their own twisted levity to the proceedings.
Closing out the evening with a series of songs from the new CD, including a wistful number co-written with Kelly Hogan and dedicated to the late Vic Chesnutt (“Come Back Little Star”), Patterson took pains to reflect on relationships gone bad (“After The Damage,” “Betty Ford,” “Better Off Without,” and, from 2009’s “Murdering Oscar,” “Pollyanna”), before launching into an engaging monologue about his late, beloved great uncle, George Johnson. This, in turn, led into the title song to the new album, a paean to the strength of family and place. A satisfying evening, all in all, and – in contrast to a Drive By Truckers’ concert – one that didn’t leave the audience exhausted, hoarse, and deaf.
One can speculate whether the new songs signal a change of character and personality for the chief Trucker, or are simply a reflection of the calmer, subdued side of Patterson Hood. After all, this is at least his third commercially-released solo effort, and neither “Killers And Stars” nor “Murdering Oscar” embodied the unrestrained urgency of the DBTs at their best. Still, there is a level of maturity – both personal and artistic – in his current performance and record that is different from the fellow we’ve seen writhing on the floor at the end of a Drive By Truckers concert, and that’s a refreshing change. Artists need to grow, and the best ones aren’t one-dimensional. But, let’s hope Mr. Hood’s still got a few more “18 Wheels Of Love” left in him!

Graham Parker and the Rumour salute!

Posted on by
Reply

Graham Parker and our own Harry Gebippe, rockin’ the Aviators!

Editors’ update: There is a great interview with GP by Richard Turner in the 11/15/12 Wall Street Journal:

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424127887324556304578118822515454646.html#mod=djemLifeStyle_t

“Don’t Tell Columbus” Day Special and Query

Our little corner of the blogosphere is fired up over the reunion of Graham Parker and his finest band, the Rumour, and their upcoming U.S. tour. The story of how Parker & The Rumour came together is interesting and almost quaint, in this internet/e-mail/Facebook and Twitter age.  In 1975, GP placed an ad (an AD, as in “the printed word”!) in Melody Maker, looking for a band that “sounded like the Rolling Stones backing Bob Dylan.”  Through this add, Parker met Dave Robinson, the manager of pub rockers Brinsley Schwarz, who had – fortunately or unfortunately – just disbanded.  Robinson introduced GP to guitarist Brinsley Schwarz, the leader of the eponymously-named band, and his keyboardist, Bob Andrews.  From the remains of another band that had recently decided to call it quits, Ducks Deluxe, came another guitarist, Martin Belmont.  The Rumour’s rhythm section – Andrew Bodnar on bass and Stephen Goulding on  drums – were recruited from yet a third recently deceased band, Bon Temps Roulez.  So, from a simple newspaper ad came an introduction, and the fortuitous confluence of the disintegration of three bands with the rise of one of the greatest songwriters of the post-punk era. And the rest is rock ‘n roll history. [credit must be given to John Tobler’s 1996 liner notes to the “Vertigo” album for much of this information].

The band went on to make a series of critically acclaimed LPs, including ” Heat Treatment”, “Howlin’ Wind”, ” Stick to Me”, and ” Squeezing Out Sparks”, playing hard-nosed rhythm and blues, tinged with reggae and rock. Graham composed much of the catalog, and the songs embraced social and political justice themes, as well as the personal yearnings of a man never satisfied. Recordings of the live performances during those years are worth scoring; the band coalesced into a tight, punchy unit on tour that backed the acerbic singer’s rants and romancing with equal aplomb.  Though enthusiastically reviewed and well received in person, the band never caught on in the American market, a travesty outlined in GP’s evisceration of his label, ” Mercury Poisoning” ( ” I’ve got a dinosaur for a representative, he’s got a small brain and refuses to learn” ” the company is crippling me, the worst tryin’ to ruin the best..”). Probably the best label-poke-in-the-eye since Skynyrd’s ” Workin’ For MCA”.

The band hit the end of the line in ( wait for it, the 30-year reunion…) 1982 and Parker has since acquitted himself well as a solo act, and sometimes backed by assembled bands. His feisty attitude is undiluted by time; those years produced hilarious lancing of the River City ( ” I’ll Never Play Jacksonville Again”) and Barbara Bush ( ” The Harridan of Yore”, which is worth downloading just to hear GP referring to Dubyah as ” her son, the imbecile”, and pronouncing it “im-beh-SEAL”).

The Minneapolis stop is a regular for GP, and this year’s show is featured on our Calendar page. To honor the occasion, and give the man and the band some well-deserved props, we’re declaring October 9 as ” Don’t Tell Columbus ” Day, as our gentle way of breaking it to Cristobal Colon ( true name in Spanish)  that it was really Graham who did the deed:

” So please don’t tell Columbus, don’t tell his Queen for sure… that I had the accurate compass, and I discovered America…” – GP, ” Don’t Tell Columbus”

That title track and the second number, ” England’s Latest Clown”, are strong enough to carry the CD, and worth checking out. But for the initiated, one of our occasional queries: Just who is the twit so ably skewered by GP in ” England’s Latest Clown”?  First viewer to nail  the answer gets a free three-week subscription to our monthly e-newsletter, and the privilege of buying Gebippe a beer at the Minny show!