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(P)Residents Day at The Cedar Cultural Center, Minneapolis, MN, 2/18/13

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Who goes out on a Monday night (holiday notwithstanding) to see The Residents? A quick visual survey of the Cedar Cultural Center revealed the answer. There were teeners, seniors, and all in-betweeners. They wore leather, leopard skin and lace; Levi’s and low-risers; flannel and faux fur; Carhart and Calvin Klein. Dreadlocks and ducktails, pompadours and pony tails, baldies and bangs were scattered throughout the crowd. We saw piercings, smelled patchouli and heard other languages. Some were stoned, some shit-faced, some sober. So what was the unifying characteristic of this community? In a word: curiosity. What’s the deal with these three dudes and what kind of shit are they going to pull this time?

The weirdness started early, before The Residents even took the stage, with suitably strange ambient music being played over the house PA system. The inflatable stage backdrop (pictured above) featured smiling snowman and Santa figures, holding up massive candy canes, propping up The Residents banner. Of course! Makes perfect (non)sense, for mid-February!

Although it was rumored that The Residents (frontman/vocalist Randy, guitarist Bob and synth player Chuck) would be unmasked for this 40 Years of Weirdness Tour, they took the stage in full costume and remained that way all night. Frontman Randy (last names are never given – and who knows if the first names are their real ones) was resplendent in his open-front Santa suit (revealing a series of tear-off T-shirt/bibs underneath), oversized boots and hook-nosed/bald pate half mask. Randy doesn’t so much sing as chant over Bob’s distorted guitar work, Chuck’s synthesizer, and whatever taped tracks get looped into the mix. In this respect, a case can be made for him being a rap pioneer.

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Bad Santa

Chuck came out in a multi-hued orange sweat suit, with full be-goggled and dreadlocked black head mask. Bob was the most sartorially impressive of the trio, sporting white tails fringed in gold lame, atop his black tuxedo slacks, also in full black mask with insect-like feelers protruding randomly. True to form, neither Chuck nor Bob spoke a word all night.

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“Is everybody ready for the picnic in the jungle?!”

The Residents’ music never shifts into high gear, favoring instead mid-tempo rhythms that compliment the industrial/metal sounds produced by Chuck and Bob. Unlike their previous visit, this was not a multi-media event, with the only visuals being those provided by the band members and their bizarre backdrop. The Residents’ opening track,”Picnic In The Jungle,” was surprisingly accessible and could easily be added to a DJ’s house music playlist.

Randy stepped out of character frequently during the first half of the show, introducing songs and giving background information on the band and its history. Of course, that assumes that one could believe everything he said, even the believable stuff. For example, introducing the next song, “Santa Dog,” Randy noted that it was written in 1972 for Snakefinger (a fellow traveler from the Bay Area). “We sent it to The Beatles, Black Sabbath, even NIXON! I wanted to GIVE IT to someone else, but no one would take it!” Truth or myth? Does it really matter?

During Bob’s guitar solo on the next number, Randy walked over to stage left, pulled something – a cell phone? – out of his pocket, looked distressed, put it back in and returned to center stage, rubbing his head in a worrisome manner. The cause of the distress would be revealed later, after the shtick was repeated a couple more times during the course of the evening. A song about “a confused transsexual” was followed by Randy’s comment that “one of the great things about being a rock star is all the blow jobs,” as a way of saluting their tour manager of the past 28 years “who lines up all the babes for us.”

After leaving the stage momentarily while Chuck and Bob carried on, Randy returned to talk about the various costumes the band had worn over the years. The iconic Residents’ headpiece is the top-hatted eyeball. A couple of folks in the audience even had large, inflatable eyeballs on hand, which they raised on cue as Randy noted the problem with the original design: “you couldn’t see out of it and you couldn’t breathe.” Picky, picky, picky!

The Residents’ song material is as bizarre as the band is visually, with “Touch Me” being introduced by Randy as “a song about an individual in a co-dependent relationship with a giant, and they’re into rough sex.” Its jungle-like rhythm got the crowd bobbing and swaying in time, as Randy prowled the stage moving (you couldn’t really call his exaggerated hand and arm gestures “dancing”) to the beat.

More of the same odd behavior followed, as Randy moved stage right this time, once again digging something out of his Santa suit and contemplating it with an anguished look on his face. Returning center stage, Randy began free-associating (perhaps “continued” free-associating is a better way to describe it), this time digressing into a lament about a friend, Philip Linman (?), a member of The Vestal Virgins, who died in 1987. He sank into his chair onstage, as Chuck and Bob revved up the heavy metal-sounding “The Man In The Dark Sedan.” Fully animated now, Randy began ranting about how down on their luck the band is: “Chuck lives on a goddam CHICKEN FARM; Bob, nobody knows what the fuck he does! My life partner is a CAT!” On and on about how his agent got him the part of the donkey in Shrek, “But that asshole Eddie Murphy stole my part, then my wife, Sheena, left me . . .” At which point he left the stage again and we all looked at each other quizzically.

Returning slowly to the stage following another slow-core interlude by Chuck and Bob, Randy seemed to have it together, and started talking about the “Freak Show” album and DVD for sale at the merch table when – here it comes again! – more diatribe spewed forth! This time, he spoke about obsession: “It’s like a whirlpool, with a bear trap at the bottom; it happened to me 11 times and I married every one of them!” Whaaa? More random talk about his breakdown, traveling to Hot Springs, Arkansas for mud baths and crystal-gazing, becoming obsessed with porn websites, . . . You had to have been there. No, wait. Being there would not have helped.

Suddenly, the Santa/snowman set began deflating. Randy’s cell phone rang (loudly, over the PA system), he answered it and “Scooter” on the other end, tells him that he needs to come home because his cat/life partner “Maurice” has been hit by a car. This brings forth more bad memories, of The Residents’ first tour of Europe: “we had 2 vans, 16 people, and we lost EVERYTHING!” One last song about “marching to the sea,” as – what’s this? – a huge Christmas tree began inflating stage right, bedecked with the iconic top hat-sporting eyeball!

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“O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree, how lovely is thy eyeball!”

With the sad remnants of their original stage backdrop behind them, The Residents gathered around the tree in silent adoration, as “Auld Lang Syne” played over the PA system. Then, with no further ado, they slowly walked offstage. The house lights went up and the bewildered crowd filed out, to the strains of “We Wish You A Merry Christmas.”

As we left, I spotted a middle-school aged child walking out with his too-hip parents. The Missus and I looked at each other and nodded knowingly. That child will never be normal.

Slide Guitar Heaven: Sonny Landreth and Charlie Parr, Cedar Cultural Center, Minneapolis, MN 11/14/12

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“The most underrated musician on the planet,” is how Eric Clapton once described Sonny Landreth. Indeed, calling Sonny a “slide guitarist,” is like calling Rembrandt an “oil painter;” it is both minimally accurate and woefully inadequate. Sonny’s technique and signature sound put him in a class by himself in a world full of fiery guitar slingers. There’s a genie trapped inside that bottleneck slide, just waiting for Sonny’s magic touch to release it.

Taking the stage at the Cedar with his longtime bass player, Dave Ranson, and drummer Brian Brignac, Sonny opened with “Native Stepson” and “Z Ride,” two songs featured prominently on his 2005 live album, “Grant Street.” Alternating between delicate finger-picking and slapping the guitar with an open hand, Sonny coaxes an impressive variety of sounds and tones out of his Fender Strat. On “Z Rider,” he plucked and bended the strings with his right hand above his slide/fretting left hand to get just the proper sound to fit the mood of the song.

He introduced “Wonderide,” the first offering from his new, all-instrumental release, “Elemental Journey,” as “zydeco meets classical.” Driven by Brignac’s propulsive drumming and Ranson’s insistent bass line, “Wonderide” showcased Landreth’s nimble right hand, as he plucked the strings with both the inside and outside of his fingers. At times, the fast guitar runs made it seem like he had eight fingers on his right hand.

When “Wonderide” ended, Sonny announced, “That concludes tonight’s version of the highbrow entertainment; now, back to the trailer park!” He followed that up with his first vocal of the night, on “The Promise Land,” a Cajun-influenced rocker from 2003’s “The Road We’re On,” segueing straight into a bar band blues, followed by yet another 12-bar blues song, the title of which I believe was “What Was Goin’ On.” As a singer, Sonny has a passable mid-range tenor voice. He’s a decent vocalist, but his singing simply pales in comparison to his formidable guitar chops.

Having displayed his ability to play rock, zydeco, classical and blues, Sonny next delved into reggae for “Forgotten Story” from the new album, moving from there back to the blues for the slow, smoldering “Storm Of Worry” from his last previous album, 2008’s “From The Reach.” Before introducing “Blue Tarp Blues” from that same album, Sonny noted that he and the band played that song in an episode of the HBO series “Treme,” that had just aired that week, “but I haven’t seen it yet.” “Blue Tarp Blues” was written by Sonny post-Katrina, describing the destruction the hurricane had wrought and the landscape of blue tarps covering all of the damaged houses in southern Louisiana. It featured some of Sonny’s hottest playing of the night, with Dave Ranson practically playing lead lines on his bass in order to match Sonny’s furious pace. Not even the inconsiderate magpie nattering behind us could detract from this mesmerizing performance.

Sonny closed out his set with the slow, slinky “Brave New Girl,” from the new album. His only cover tune of the evening was Big Bill Broonzy’s classic blues number,”Key To The Highway.” Finishing strong, he powered up “All About You,” “SS Zydecoldsmobile,” and a N’awlins style number (“Stay Jacques”?). By this time, virtually the entire house was up on its feet, moving to the seductive second-line rhythm, due, in part, to a self-appointed cheerleader who strode up & down the center aisle, gesturing with his arms for everyone to get up off their seats. Thanks, fella; sure glad you were there to help us figure that out.

Local favorite Charlie Parr opened the evening with a compact set of his own slide guitar stylings. His set proved to be a tasty appetizer for the entree to be served up by Sonny Landreth. Unlike Landreth, Parr favors the National steel guitar for his bottleneck work. He is good-natured and unassuming – traits that serve his old-timey music style well. His set ran the gamut from the foot-stomping gospel of “Jubilee,” to the harrowing “1890,” a dark, gloomy account of the aftermath of the Wounded Knee massacre. He plays seated, hunched over his guitar and staring intently at his handwork, as if performing surgery, rather than playing a guitar. The high point of his set was “Midnight Has Come And Gone,” starting out with a lengthy instrumental intro leading into the verses: “I’ve got my ghosts and they travel with me everywhere I go . . . If they ask where I am, don’t you tell them nothin’.”

Charlie was effusive in his praise of Sonny Landreth (“I can’t wait to get this part done so I can enjoy the show), modest and funny. He closed his short set with “Muskrat,” a folk song popularized locally by “one of my heroes, Spider John Koerner,” emulating Koerner’s signature foot stomping accompaniment to his guitar playing. Kudos to the Cedar for this simpatico pairing of distinct, yet complementary, bottleneck guitar players.

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

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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?

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

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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.”