Concert review - Bethany and Rufus, with Brahim Fribgane

30 April 2015 (Baur's Listening Lounge, Denver CO)

^4.0/5.0

Baur's Listening Lounge is a new venue on the Denver music scene. It's a stylish bar and restaurant in the heart of downtown Denver with music events hosted by the non-profit Music Appreciation Society. The M/A/S is focused on quality acoustic performances across genres. Aside from sponsoring Bethany and Rufus, they have a diverse selection of shows coming up, ranging from Brazilian jazz to chamber music. They aim to create a respectful, concert hall experience; the venue's intimate space encourages a greater sense of immediacy and connection. That worked fairly well for this show, but the lounge atmosphere meant that there was more conversation and distraction out at the edges of the room. The host, David Spira, tried with mixed success to keep that under control, but, fortunately, Bethany and the other musicians were captivating enough to overcome the mild commotion.

Bethany and Rufus

Call it chemistry or magic, it's a beautiful thing when people come together to form a greater whole. Rufus Cappadocia carries on a cellist's tradition of expanding the role of his instrument. Where Zoe Keating turned towards looping to create layered masterpieces, Cappadocia takes the instrument out of the classical chamber and engages with the exotic sounds of North Africa and other global sources. He has an incredible ear and phenomenal technical proficiency. Bethany Yarrow grew up immersed in American folk and spiritual music, but she's built on that foundation to find musical connections that reach across the world. She has the vocal strength of a young Joan Baez, but she often taps into a soulful expressiveness that takes it to another level. The two find common ground with their global ear for music and they complement each other in how they internalize the rhythms and tones, whether through dance or flamboyant playing.


Bethany and Rufus have a new album coming out, Trouble in the Land, recorded with  their Roots Quartet. The bad news is that this tour did not include flutist Yacouba Moumouni or percussionist   Bonga Jean-Babtiste, so we missed out on the full band experience heard on their Soundcloud page. It was hard to feel too bad about this, though, because they had added a touring musician, Brahim Fribgane, who filled out the arrangements adroitly on cajón (box drum). Fribgane's playing was full of syncopated rhythm, but he also occasionally provided melodic accompaniment on the oud.


For lack of a better pigeonhole, Bethany and Rufus could be called folk musicians, they drew on that connection with their opening song, a rendition of the Civil Rights anthem "Ain't Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me Around". In classic folk style, Yarrow pulled the crowd in to sing along, but this version was a joyful funk jam. That funk feel continued into "900 Miles". Cappadocia picked out a busy bass line on his cello while Yarrow soulfully coiled around the lyrics, letting the song build up a sizzling heat. When Fribgane came in, his drumming pushed it into a full-on danceable groove.


The funky R&B was a good way to get the crowd warmed up, but by the time they got to their reworked version of "This Train", the North African influence on their music was undeniable. Cappadocia switched over to a unique quartet-tone baritone guitar that combined a pair of bass strings with two higher pitched twin strings, like the courses on a twelve string guitar or mandolin, while Fribgane played the oud. The restless polyrhythmic beat and the semi-tone melodies from the fretless oud reminded me a lot of the Malian blues that Ali Farka Touré used to play. Where a lot of arrangements for this song might rely on percussion to create a train wheel rhythm, Cappadocia and Fribgane set up repeated riffs that rolled like waves through the tune. Even without the oud, that North African sound resurfaced throughout the set.


After a brief intermission, the band came back for a second set that showed a very different side. The rhythms were more Latin and the songs rooted in those cultures rather than the American folk tradition. The centerpiece was a three song series, all associated with the Brazilian "Queen of the Forest", Juriama (sp?). Yarrow explained the mythology and put the songs in context, which seemed steeped in a kind of animism. The spirituality came across as a bit New Age, but most of the audience was receptive and the music overcame everyone else's reservations. Where the first set had been moody and soulful, these tunes were much more upbeat, and Yarrow danced ecstatically during the instrumental sections.


Bethany and Rufus are well matched as a duo and this show captured both their strengths. Yarrow's naturally open stage presence made her the friendly face of the band, while Cappadocia's wide-ranging technical prowess, from percussive tapping that suggests Les Claypool to tightly looped flurries, gave the music depth and complexity.  It was great performance anchored in heart, rhythm, and soul.


More photos on my Flickr.

Recording review - Tom Brosseau: Grass Punks (2014)

Stripped down, but emotionally distant

Few things are more direct and personal than a solo singer with his folk guitar. Everything is in plain sight and there’s little cover for emotional vulnerability. Traditional singer/songwriters like Nancy Griffith, Todd Snider, and Billy Bragg each offer different paths to entertainment, with sincerity and flashes of humor, but they all share an openness that grounds their music and touches audiences. On the surface, Tom Brosseau follows the same guide star. Grass Punks is a stripped down album, with most songs relying on a single vocal and paired instrumental tracks. But Brosseau keeps his cards close to his chest, using his pretty guitar to deflect the audience from delving too deeply into his stories.

The standout tune, “Cradle Your Device”, will be the one that everyone remembers. A commentary on our screen-filtered life, Brosseau passive-aggressively gestures to the technology as the root of his failed relationship. At the same time, the matter of fact accompaniment is objective and his singing is more wistful and musing than bitter or hurt. He’s covering some kind of a raw wound, but it suggests that the disconnection has its own backstory, one that he doesn’t want to deal with. The song is full of contrasts: the music provides a logical order, layered with staccato rhythm and counterpoint guitars, the words are pained and accusatory, but the vocal tone seems uninvested in the message and untouched by the rejection. I like the song, but that cognitive dissonance turns the piece into a Rorschach test. The more I listen, the more convinced I am that the breakdown in communication has little to do with his lover’s iPod.

Grass Punks eventually codifies Brosseau’s approach into a recipe. The musical surface is elegantly rendered. Two guitars find interlocking melodies and complete each other’s phrases with dexterous simplicity and light flourishes. In one case, “Gregory Page of San Diego”, he breaks it up by substituting a mandolin for one of the guitars, but that merely shifts the tonal center a touch higher in pitch. Brosseau’s vocals are similarly simple, with a touch of Marc Bolan falsetto. Occasionally a plaintive element creeps in, but he keeps his emotional connection shallow. A track like “Tami” may dwell in memories of a first kiss, but he doesn’t seem particularly moved, robbing the song of its full impact. Completing the formula, Brosseau’s lyrics often rely on an oblique sketchiness, where the subject is may actually just be a metaphor. That vagueness leaves the songs in a gray area. For example, in “Today Is A Bright New Day”, it’s unclear whether he’s revisiting the past in his mind or physically going back to the places he references.

Despite all of that, he conjures up several interesting moments, largely based on the musical mood he creates. On “Love High John The Conqueror Root”, he creates a satisfyingly uneasy scaffolding, built from a touch of ragtime guitar, a steady restless rhythm and a light veneer of discordance. The title line chorus doesn’t seem to tie to the verses, but the package is intriguing. “I Love To Play Guitar” offers another flavor of dissonance, pairing the music-box clockwork guitars with his lyrical theme of escaping life’s travails through music. Maybe this song and others are just a subtle joke and the mechanical feel is intentional.

Brosseau is certainly a talented player with a knack for wonderful folk guitar arrangements. But he seems to want it both ways: he hints at emotional complexity and introspective thoughts, but he’s unwilling to expose these feelings to direct scrutiny. Without that grounding, the pretty playing seems a bit sterile.

(This review first appeared on Spectrum Culture)

History lesson - Bruce Cockburn, The Charity of Night (1997)

A dark night in Amsterdam introduced me to Cockburn's work

I can’t separate The Charity of Night from a thick, smoky Amsterdam evening at the Melkweg in March of 1997. After a day wandering through museums, bars and coffee shops, my friend insisted on catching Bruce Cockburn’s show. I had a vague recollection of his song, “If I Had a Rocket Launcher” (1984), and agreed to tag along. It was a strong, politically-charged show right up until the opening chords of “Birmingham Shadows”, late in the first set. As he slipped into the vamping jazz guitar line and spoke his way through the poetry of the verses, I was transfixed. When the spell faded with the last notes of the song, I headed for the merch table in search of the track. I quickly found it on The Charity of Night, which he had just released. The second set would hit other high points from the album and turn me into a Cockburn fan.

It would be another several days before I could give it a listen, but once I did, it evoked the same magic, especially on “Birmingham Shadows”. The song describes a chance encounter, a moment of discovery frozen in time. The jazzy tune sets a relaxing, hypnotic groove, with Rob Wasserman’s liquid bass permeating the track while Cockburn’s musing vocal is reminiscent of Warren Zevon’s husky tone. “Wearing your shadows all over your sleeve/ Wearing the role of the young upstart,” then “I wear my shadows where they’re harder to see/ But they follow me everywhere/ I guess that should tell me I’m traveling toward light.” His evocative lyrics capture a collision of cultures in Birmingham, Alabama. It’s a refreshing perspective, neither denying the differences nor claiming true understanding. Instead, it aims for simple acceptance. The chorus, which breaks into song, makes it clearer, “Birmingham shadows fall/ You show a little/ I let something show, too.” Cockburn’s lead guitar work is flowing and exploratory, which fits the mood of the piece. At nine and a half minutes, it’s the longest track on the album, but it still grabs me every time I hear it.

It turns out that this release offered me the perfect entry into Cockburn’s music. His work in the ‘70s was awash in Christian imagery, which spoke to a different kind of audience. In the following decade, that evolved into a mix of spirituality and progressive politics. By 1994’s Dart to the Heart, he had toned down much of the righteous anger that drove songs like “Rocket Launcher,” but that album’s folk-rock stylings clung to a rootsy feel that didn't make a strong impression. The Charity of Night, on the other hand, has a surface simplicity as contemporary indie folk, but it’s woven from a wider range of musical textures. Cockburn surrounds himself with jazz players and open-ended parts that set off his restlessly rhythmic guitar playing, accentuating his sonic connection to smooth, sharp players like Mark Knopfler. On “Get Up Jonah”, an intricate guitar is cloaked in heavy vibrato, like shimmers of heat hazing the tone. The guitar fills and warm bass sound come together with a Dire Straits Making Movies sound, but just a touch darker. The lyrics meander from Turkish drummers to secret policemen to cryptic observations reflecting an inner turmoil. The loose collection of ideas lets the song serve as a Rorschach test, asking the listener to name their own source of darkness.

Tension underlies most of the tracks. Even when a tune starts out thoughtful, like the instrumental, “Mistress of Storms”, a moody Spanish guitar fill comes along and suggests that resolution will remain out of reach. The initial melody canters forward, with dreamy vibes mirroring the rhythm guitar. Then the bridge breaks the flow with a staccato, percussive guitar delineating a dead end. The vibes and guitar join forces for a fragile chromatic riff that drags the song to double back to its thoughtful center. Cockburn’s echoed lead is nestled within the bones of the guitar chords as it winds and twists. Gary Burton’s vibe solo takes the song back to a softer version of the bridge, like it’s searching that blind alley for an unseen exit. Subdued, it seems to find a shadowed path forward, avoiding the earlier dissonance. The last time through the progression, though, proves that nothing has changed. The bridge forms a new roadblock and the song ends with the familiar chromatic notes.

Cockburn’s night is sometimes rueful or haunted; it can be reflective or offer up the chance for connection. It can even be charitable by softening memory. Your history may not include a long-ago evening at the Melkweg, but anyone can still appreciate an album that finds solace in the darkness.

(This review first appeared on Spectrum Culture)

Recording review - Gogol Bordello, Pura Vida Conspiracy (2013)

Expanding on their gypsy-punk traditions, keeping their eyes on the present

Gogol Bordello doesn't so much march to the beat of a different drummer as dance to the rhythm of a crazy-quilt amalgam of percussion traditions. Starting from founder Eugene Hütz's Gypsy-Ukrainian roots, they've incorporated the ska-tinted punk of The Clash along with elements of jazz and rock and roll. Over time, the band has defied assimilation by absorbing every shiny musical tradition that catches their ear. So far, the Gypsy character still dominates by virtue of Hütz's thick accent and the exotic siren sound of minor key melodies. Moving beyond their loud, thrashy beginnings, their more recent albums, like 2010’s Trans-Continental Hustle, feature more studio polish as they evolve their sound. Pura Vida Conspiracy continues that direction, incorporating influences ranging from Latin rhythms to classic American country. Just as the Clash built on their punk foundation as they matured, Gogol Bordello holds on to their principles while following their muse.

Even as they reinvent their sound by adding new flavors, Gogol Bordello maintains the folk foundation of their music. But their take on folk music seems so much richer than the watered-down, museum quality of most American and British folk. In many ways, they’re quite reminiscent of the Pogues, although they have a stronger philosophical bent. Both bands have filled their albums with chaotic musical celebrations and each is centered on a charismatic front man, but the two leaders are very different. They share a poetic streak, but where Shane McGowan is often incoherent, Hütz is rough but articulate. Both men can be defiant and proud, but McGowan often taps into his anger where Hütz tends toward indignation at injustice.

As he plays the chameleon, taking turns as a firebrand, a lover and a rogue, Hütz’s personality dominates Gogol Bordello. Far from mellifluous, somehow his quavery voice, heavy accent and slurring pronunciation emphasize the earnestness of his lyrics. All the while, he and the band fit together like an old couple, intimately familiar with each others tendencies. As his singing pairs with a violin line, it’s impossible to tell which is leading.

Gogol Bordello has cited Parliament/Funkadelic as a key influence and their performances reflect that. In concert, they create a party on the stage, packed full of spectacle. Their albums move forward with a similar hyperactive energy. But more than mindless fun, these recordings give the band a soapbox. In the case of Pura Vida Conspiracy, Hütz articulated the idea behind the album during a recent Reddit AMA (Ask Me Anything): “Everybody is obsessed with living in a future, living in the past, and consequently the very life itself which is now is abandoned. Our music with its every note demands the attention to the present moment.” The band’s power lies in that engagement with the present. Against a sea of diffident, ironic hipster bands, their music simultaneously pulsates with life and makes them seem larger than life.

The band kicks off Pura Vida Conspiracy with a stirring anthem, “We Rise Again”, In what’s become a standard approach for the band, a chanted beginning sets up a strong minor key rocker. The verses are very idiosyncratic, avoiding structural repetition, so the two part chorus frames the tune with a handful of slogans. The first part couches its message of anarchy with slightly obscure metaphors, “Borders are scars on face of the planet/ So heal away, my alchemy man/ When even atheist holds up a candle/ We gotta rise again/ We rise again.” But the second half, “With a fistful of heart/ And a radical future/ Opa! We rise again,” delivers a crowd-friendly refrain. The frantic pace imbues the piece with a sense of urgency that persists into the solo where violin entwines with guitar in a moody folk melody.

Just as every Gogol Bordello album has its rambunctious moments, they like to balance it out with at least one jazzy interlude. Trans-Continental Hustle offered “Sun On My Side” and their latest has “I Just Realized”. The interlocking guitars at the beginning slip into a Latin rhythm and Hütz's voice is soft and husky, “Is it because I am Russian?/ Is it because you are not?” The beat sashays with Brazilian flair, but the accordion pulls the song into a smoky French cabaret. Following their usual playlist preference, it’s a nice palate cleanser before a heavier up-tempo track. In this case, the Romany party song, “Gypsy Auto Pilot”, serves that role. Looking back with no regrets, Hütz celebrates his life on the fringes, “To discover rules of life/ And how to break them well/ And a key to my Gypsy auto pilot/ And my story to tell.”

Although much of Pura Vida Conspiracy does follow the pattern of their earlier albums, one surprising element is a new-found appreciation of country music. “Malandrino” blends country folk with a touch of conjunto and the country cut-time beat on “Lost Innocent World” finds common ground with Eastern European folk rhythms. The most direct example is the cowboy country of the final track, “We Shall Sail”. Accompanied by a single acoustic guitar, Hütz affects a western drawl that occasionally slips askew to reveal his normal accent. Except for a strange, chromatic turnaround, the arrangement respects the genre, injecting little Gypsy character. Instead the lyrics themselves form the bridge between lonesome cowboy philosophy and socially conscious rebels, “Nothing in this life is good or bad/ It’s we who dress it up as happy or sad.” As the last note fades into silence, it’s a good closer for the album. Of course, if you let the silence run out, eventually you get to the surprising hidden track, where the band proves they have not forgotten their punk roots.

Longtime fans may still miss the raw purity of Gogol Bordello’s breakout release, Gypsy Punks: Underdog World Strike (2005), but Pura Vida Conspiracy is a vibrant addition to their catalog.

(This review first appeared in Spectrum Culture)

Recording review - Robbie Fulks, Gone Away Backward (2013)

American roots music, but never primitive

"If you've ever heard Hank Williams sing/ Well, you know the whole blessed thing." Robbie Fulks gets right to the heart of it on "That's Where I'm From", which could have easily served as the title of his new release because Gone Away Backward takes him back to his true love of American roots music. On this song, indeed on the whole album, Fulks aspires to Hank Williams' plain simplicity, but he can't hide his own polish. While Williams drew on a raw power, virtually inventing country music from its folk origins, Fulks has built on this foundation to become an eloquent voice for his musical ideal. Given the shoulders that he stands upon, the last lines of "That's where I'm From" call it right: "A long way down a hard road, that's where I've come/ Someplace I can't go home to, that's where I'm from."

From the beginning of his career, Fulks has idolized that early vision of country music. After failing to fit into the Nashville machine, he turned his back on modern country. But although his writing has shown a great sense of character and phrasing, his records as a whole have seldom connected directly to the traditional purity he touts. A couple of albums have each offered a piece of the puzzle. 13 Hillbilly Giants (2001) gets at that old sound with his interpretation of some lesser known country songs, while 2005's Georgia Hard focused on a late '60s/early /'70s version of the genre. Gone Away Backward bridges the gap to explore a mix of moody folk, raw country, and vibrant bluegrass, without a hint of alt-country irony or self-consciousness. As the song fall like dominoes, Fulks celebrates this old time feel, showing that clarity and sincerity don't have to be simplistic.

The opening track, "I'll Trade You Money For Wine", leads off with restless folk guitar and a fiddle that adds a patina of despair. Fulks' gentle drawl is simultaneously mournful and judgmental. The tune relies on a dark, relentless murder-ballad sound but the lyrical theme is complex and contradictory as he celebrates a surrender into dissolution from a seemingly morally superior perspective. So, "It's a short life and a long time underground/ I'll trade you money for wine" vies with philosophical dissections of industry and his lack of envy for the local banker. The ambiguity proves to be a potent gateway into the album. Despite this scattershot description, the song flows naturally, carrying you deeper into the mood.

After a John Prine style folk tune and a rollicking bluegrass number, the album finds its essence on the aforementioned "That's Where I'm From". Fulks matches the lyrical depth with a beautiful arrangement. His simple guitar part is gradually joined by the other other instruments -- bass, fiddle, mandolin, and banjo -- adding their voices like ghosts of the past standing behind him. As he raises his voice, forthright and unaffected, he captures a mix of poignancy and pride. The closing solos crown the piece perfectly, emotionally sincere without a trace of schmaltz.

The rich acoustic ambiance of Gone Away Backward is only compromised twice, with the subtle slide distortion on the rambling instrumental, "Snake Chapman's Tune", and the odd-bird track, "The Many Disguises of God". This latter song starts with an old British folk feel, with a waltz rhythm and fingerstyle guitar. Arty and sparse, the arrangement uses fiddle and the wicked sizzle of electric guitar fuzz to add an ominous haze that builds into a miasma of dread. Although at first listen it might clash with the folk-based approach on the rest of the album, the allegorical narrative does suggest an earlier time.

As much as I've enjoyed Fulks' earlier work, from the wry self-delusion of "You Wouldn't Do That To Me" (SouthMouth - 1997) to the dark cynicism of "God Isn't Real" (Let's Kill Saturday Night - 1998), this set of songs may well be the best that he's written. I wouldn't mind a little more of his sarcastic wit, but I appreciate the way Gone Again Backward commits to its theme and delivers so consistently.

Front Range - Recommended shows, 7/16

18 July (Red Rocks, Morrison CO)
Emmylou Harris
Steve Martin
Arlo Guthrie

This should be a spectacular show. Each artist brings something special to the table. Emmylou Harris is a national treasure, well known for her great songwriting and beautiful voice. Steve Martin has fully reinvented himself as a credible bluegrass musician. And Arlo Guthrie is still a fine storyteller and performer.

19 July (Cervantes Other Side, Denver CO)
See-I (members of Thievery Corporation)
Atomga

Thievery Corporation's Eric Hilton integrated reggae players Rootz and Zeebo Steele into his rotating cast of collaborators. See-I's solid reggae grooves sound great on-line, so I have high expectations for this show. Frank Roddy from Atomga alerted about the show - I haven't seen them since they opened for Seun Kuti and Egypt 80, so that's another good reason to head down to Denver.

19 July (Ogden Theatre, Denver CO)
Reel Big Fish

Skanking rockers Reel Big Fish are touring with a new album coming out, Candy Coated Fury. Their press promises that it's a return to the clever attitude and high energy ska sounds of their first two albums. The tiny samples in their teaser seem promising. Reel Big Fish always create a great party vibe in their live shows.

Recording review - Johnny Hickman, Tilting (2012)

Folky roots rock with country twang and new wave punch

Tilting is Johnny Hickman's second solo album. Plenty of people know the Cracker co-founder's rock side, but Hickman also has strong country-folk influences that he's shown with the Hickman-Dalton Gang. Tilting plays like Hickman's eclectic history. It's a melting pot of folky roots rock with moments of country twang and new wave punch, plus a few other surprises.

Cracker fans might prefer the rocking numbers, like the snide Elvis Costello post punk of Sick Cynthia Thing or the indie rock sneer of Takin' Me Back. This latter track could turn up on a Cracker album, but it really nails a Beat Farmers country rock groove. The lyrics are clever and clueless as Hickman sings from the perspective of someone who doesn't realize "she's just not that into you":

She needs a break for our relationship's sake
Takin' me back, takin' me back, she will be
So, I give her space, but I call her in case
She's takin' me back, takin' me back, she will be

Someone says she's missing me
Lost in her regret
Feels more like she misses me
Every chance she gets

Sharp and punchy, it's a strong contrast to Tilting's rootsier tracks that lean towards folk rock. Those songs lay down a simple sound to support Hickman's lyrical message, from calling out the greedy and venal on Measure of a Man to the his philosophical musings on Destiny Misspent. Hickman is comfortable with this stripped down approach and he gives the songs room to breathe.

One track, though, is a complete outlier. The jazzy blues of Papa Johnny's Arms has some great guitar work and it could easily fit on a Leon Redbone disc. It's a fun song, with a polished sound and smooth flow. The guitar solo is particularly nice - not quite Django, but with a taste of gypsy jazz. But as much as I like the laid back vamp, it breaks up the album's flow.

Even so, Johnny Hickman is confident in his choices and Tilting is anything but a single niche album.

(As a contrast from the link above, here's another track, Another Road.)

Concert review - Todd Snider with Reed Föehl

25 April 2012 (Hodi's Half Note, Ft. Collins CO)

I was pleased that Todd Snider played here in Ft. Collins, especially in an intimate venue like Hodi's. It's a big difference from the Boulder Theater (his next stop on the tour). Snider and Reed Föehl pulled in a mixed age crowd that filled up the venue.

Reed Föehl

Folk singer Reed Föehl is a Boston native, transplanted here to Colorado. He played a comfortable, singer/songwriter set that didn't push boundaries but still satisfied the quiet, attentive crowd. With his simple finger-picked guitar and the wistful twang of his singing, his first song evoked John Prine at his more serious. His subtle harmonica playing added a tentative vulnerability to the tune.

Introducing the next song, he said, "I'm sure a lot of these may be new to you. But this one is new to me. It's called 'Color Me In'." It was another simple waltz beat folk song, sounding like early solo Ryan Adams. These were good tunes, but they set the flow for the whole set: serious, sincere folk music with a coffee shop vibe.


Föehl's stage presence fit well with this. He was very gentle and earnest, with a mild self-deprecating patter. Even offstage, his mellow, friendly vibe made him very approachable. Still, I found myself wanting him to be more dynamic, both physically and musically. The folk genre is a fairly big pool, with room for humor, edge, and energy but Föehl's set maintained an even, steady pace.

His next to last song finally shook things up. Once an Ocean was moodier with a darker depth. Föehl channeled Neil Young and Buffalo Springfield and built a much appreciated intensity.

Todd Snider

In person, Todd Snider always teeters on a ledge in a way that even his live recordings can't quite convey. He's joked about this unpredictability in his song, Age Like Wine:

My new stuff is nothing like my old stuff was
And neither one is much when compared to the show
Which will not be as good as some other one you saw
So help me, I know, I know
I know I am an old timer...

Snider is touring behind his latest album, Agnostic Hymns & Stoner Fables (review), but the set list bounced through his full catalog. He opened with an older tune, Alright Guy, then jumped right into New York Banker from the new album.

Snider was something like a Zen master as he zipped through his set list but never seemed rushed. He and the band flowed from song to song, but as soon as the pace seemed noticeable, Snider broke it up with some of his seat-of-the-pants patter. While a given story may follow the same basic flow from show to show, the details shift and blur.

The best moment came near the end of Beer Run, when he interrupted the song to share his philosophy about playing goofy songs like this:

...there's something I want to get off my chest because it bothers me. My friends back home in East Nashville, they just naturally assume...without even asking me, they just naturally assume that I am sick of this song that I'm playing right now. They say, "Oh God damn, you must be sick of that fucking one." Shit, no, I'm not!! It's my favorite one...

...I can't get enough of it. And I'll tell you something else. I'll tell you that there ain't never gonna be a day in my life when I make up a song that somebody else likes or wants to sing to. I don't care who they are. If they like it and they want to sing to it, I want to sing it for them. I'm grateful for it. And I'll tell you why...

That segued directly into Age Like Wine before wrapping up with a final chorus of Beer Run.

His backing band matched Snider's style perfectly. They laid low, easy to underestimate until you realized how tight they were. The uptempo numbers gave them a little more room to work with, allowing for some fancier fills, but they were great sidemen. Their foundation gave Snider more dynamic space.

The mix of new and old tunes satisfied the crowd. Snider's consistency as a writer provided the common ground that had everyone singing along on every song. Along with his own songs, Snider threw in a run of covers: Neil Youngs Hey hey, My My, Rusty Weir's Don't it Make You Wanna Dance, Jerry Jeff Walker's Pissing in the Wind, and Jerry Lee Lewis' Great Balls of Fire. Each of these felt like the show's closer as the big endings dragged on, but every time, the band would suddenly kick into the next one. By the time Snider and the band finally left the stage, the audience was wrung out. If this was a ploy to avoid an encore, it didn't work, though. Snider came back out and took a request (Play a Train Song) and followed that up with his last song of the night, Big Finish.


This turned into a sideshow moment. While Snider encouraged a girl at the front of the stage who was soul singing along, the rest of us were distracted by a harmonica player walking through the crowd towards the stage. Acting like he was part of the act, the harp player jumped up and took over the mic. A bemused Snider handed him another harmonica in the right key. When the soul singer decided to come up, too, Snider just stepped back and gave them room. It was anarchy, but what else is going to happen when you try to make a Saturday night out of a weekend.


More photos on my Flickr.

Concert review - Los Lobos with Muskateer Gripweed

8 March 2012 (Aggie Theatre, Ft. Collins CO)

The Aggie usually draws a strong college crowd that doesn't build critical mass until the opening acts are wrapping up their sets. Last night's show broke the mold. The age spread was quite a bit wider -- I might have even seen a grandmother or two -- and local stars Muskateer Gripweed had a good full audience for their hot set. The Led Zeppelin music between the bands was an interesting choice, but it was a night for joyous dancing and rhythmic excitement.

Muskateer Gripweed

It's been a while since I've seen Muskateer Gripweed. They weren't weak before, but now they've honed their show into a high energy tent revival. Their frontman, the Reverend Monkey Paw Patterson (Jason Downing) took a seat at center stage but rarely sat still. He stayed as focused as an ADD eight year old on Red Bull and Pixie Stix.

Bouncing around the stage, Downing was in constant motion, jumping from guitar to tambourine or from the stage to stand on his seat. Even when others could have stepped forward for a bass jam or guitar lead, he scampered around and air played along. The interplay between the gyrating Reverend and his tightly focused band was a study in dynamic contrast. It was as if the band channeled all of their stage movements into their frontman.

Downing may have played the goofy clown, but he and the rest of Muskateer Gripweed were perfectly serious about setting up a sweet pocket in the groove. Like the best blues bands, they whipped through intricate arrangements with a casual aplomb.

Laid back soulful jams, bluesy shuffles, and Southern rock all meshed together as the band skipped through their hour long set. Several of their songs had a Little Feat bounce, especially with the drummer's tight syncopation. The straighter rock tunes offered a small taste of Bad Company's guitar/bass drive. But it wasn't all retro '70s sounds. The hyperkinetic beats and vocals recalled Blues Traveller, even if the harp playing wasn't quite John Popper. For all of the comparisons, Muskateer Gripweed have their own sound and personality.

Muskateer Gripweed will be back next month, hosting their CD release party for Straight Razor Revival at the Aggie on April 7.

Los Lobos

Los Lobos ambled out on the stage and kicked off the set with a rollicking Mexican folk sound that got everyone dancing. A steady bass throb, syncopated guitars, and accordion fills bounced along as the crowd shouted their encouragement. After this warmup, Cesar Rosas warned us, "We're doing the acoustic thing tonight" before the band kicked into Saint Behind the Glass from their classic album, Kiko. Los Lobos would dip back to Kiko several times during their set.

Maybe it was the wider age range of the audience or the casual camaraderie, but everybody surrendered themselves to the easy, waterflow melodies and tight harmonies. This was backyard music writ large. From Conrad Lozano's easy grin at the enthusiastic shouts to David Hidalgo's shut eyed focus as he played his bajo sexto, the band created a relaxed vibe and the crowd could feel the love.

But this didn't translate into sleepy seranades. Instead, Los Lobos created a party atmosphere. Uptempo classical runs, interlocking rhythms, and even electric guitar kept the crowd dancing. While they often returned to the traditional Latino folk music of their roots, they stirred in a host of other sounds: meandering jams (accentuated by Stever Berlin's flute), solid funk rock grooves, Latin jazz, and some New Orleans rhythms.

That's really the beauty of Los Lobos. Their roots may stay true to the Latino music they were steeped in, but they are a truly American band. Louis Pérez's jarana huasteca and Lozano's guitarron meld with electric guitar and keyboard to create a fusion sound that connects across cultures and eras.

Maintaining the same players since the beginning (although younger drummer Cougar Estrada now joins them) has imbued their music with a rich depth. The songs could be deceptively simple, but that effortless flow is the result of countless hours of playing.

When the band came out for their encore, Rosas teased us with a couple of Led Zeppelin snippets, referencing the music from the set break. But that was just a feint before they launched into the Cuban classic, Guantanamera. Then, a last upbeat jam (Mas y Mas) kicked it up before sending us out.

More photos on my Flickr.

CD review - And the Giraffe, Something for Someone (2011)

Exploring a full palette of dreamy folk

College towns like Gainesville, Florida often foster great music scenes. Some hit it big like Tom Petty, Don Felder, Against Me!, and Less Than Jake, which all have roots in Gainesville. On the other side, I remember all the local bands I loved there during my college daze. When I found out that And the Giraffe came out of G'ville, I was psyched to hear what was coming out of today's local scene.

Something For Someone offers a moody mix of dream folk. The EP's six tracks maintain the kind of shimmery reverb haze that defines the genre, but And the Giraffe manage to evoke a wide range of feelings. This is rooted in subtleties of timing: a touch of rhythmic drag can shift the sense from expectation to fatalism.

And the Giraffe's sound is reminiscent of Gomez's more drifty tracks, largely because the vocals capture a piece of Ben Ottewell's tone. The first track, Underground Love hits this best of all. It's simple and floaty, with the guitar taking on a saturated tone against the swaying bass and stripped down drums. The raspy, velvet vocals capture a kind of weariness, but there's an undercurrent of satisfaction. The whispery background vocals give the whole tune the sense of an interior monologue.

This contrasts with the late summer night sound of 1055. Here the echoed guitar works against a steadier keyboard to create a sense of surrender: "And my God, I almost fell in love." Later on Magic 8, the feeling is anticipatory, waiting for some promised treat. The loping rhythm is light, but creates a dreamscape, with the sense of running down a hill to a wonderful future of possibility.

Although Something for Someone is short, I love that And the Giraffe have stretched out the boundaries of expression available within the dream folk sub-genre. The music is beautifully recorded and mixed, perfect for headphones. It would be great to hear what the band could do with a full length album.

Drop by Bandcamp to hear Something for Someone.

CD review - Mekons, Ancient and Modern, 1911-2011 (2011)

Things fall apart, the centre cannot hold

The Mekons long ago grew past their punker roots to take on English folk, American country, and rock. Garnering a loyal fanbase and critical acclaim, the band has hung around the fringes for decades. Ancient and Modern, 1911-2011 is the band's latest release and it's ambitious in scope of style and time.

The songs wander through the eras, from the old-time, flapper sound of Geeshie, through the stately Kinks sound of I Fall Asleep, and into the Scary Monsters Bowie vibe of Calling All Demons. The century reference in the title also tries to bridge the gap from here to the end of England's Edwardian period.

The common theme seems to echo the lines from Yeats' The Second Coming:

Things fall apart, the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

Some of the songs make the assertion and others seem inclined to argue. This theme anchors the album and overlays the shifts in musical direction.

The first two tracks illustrate the two views. Ancient and Modern's opening song, Warm Summer Sun is a masterpiece. The hesitant, lazy rhythm at the start bears slight hints of disquiet from the violin strings in the deep corners as the lyrics offer a pastoral picture of calm:

The warm summer sun
At the end of the day
Before an evening that lasts forever
Gently sleeping on the soft green grass
Or riding out on a frosty morning

The free verse lyrics sound deceptively relaxed, given away by subtle hints of violin tension: secrets and traps are hidden. Then, the mood unravels and the lyrics turn dark:

I look out on corpses
Skeleton trees
An unimaginable Hell in front of my eyes

Warm Summer Sun succeeds because of the stark contrast between darkness and hazy light and because of the raw emotion it shares.

The following song, Space in Your Face, balances out the first track. It's a power pop rocker with a strong Guided By Voices vibe. You can hear the same influences of the Who pump up the energy. A wavering electronic thread adds a modern feel that keeps it from falling into retro pastiche. The feel is life affirming and anthemic even as the lyrics are more personal:

Like an actor plays a part
I'll make the world think light is dark
Or maybe just convince myself
I was tempted to believe

The two songs' combination of hesitance and assertion, despair and bluster, sum up the Ancient and Modern as well as our time.

CD review - Garfunkel and Oates, All Over Your Face (2011)

Since you're reading this on the interwebs, you should already be familiar with the musical comedy duo of Garfunkel and Oates (Riki Lindhome and Kate Micucci). You don't need me to tell you how funny they are; you've already seen their self-produced videos.

If Garfunkel and Oates aren't already on your radar, they should be: sweet voiced harmonies, folk guitar and ukulele, and two women who personify a clever naivete. Of course, their stage personas are the perfect delivery vehicle for their bawdy humor. Their earthy shtick cuts both ways. Plenty of people love them, but it makes them easy to dismiss. Hearing these cute voices say "fuck" or cheerfully refer to oral sex is an amusing gimmick, but the titillating shock value fades fairly quickly.

Garfunkel and Oates are polarizing like Sarah Silverman, because their comedy pushes people's buttons and the boundaries of taste. It's true, the deliberate vulgarity leads to plenty of cheap shot laughs, but there's a fine comedic sense driving them. Even though some may pan Garfunkel and Oates for crassness, the pair pull it off because their material is very funny.

Much of the humor is sex and relationship based, like You, Me, and Steve and Gay Boyfriend. Garfunkel and Oates use the frank simplicity of these songs to mock modern relationships and sex roles while hitting at deeper truths. But they also branch out into larger cultural topics with the guido-bashing This Party Took A Turn For the Douche and the medical marijuana sendup, Weed Card. The pro-gay marriage ballad, Sex With Ducks, takes on Pat Robertson's crazy rhetoric and embraces it.

Of course, mere jokes wear thin after a while, but musical comedy can have longer staying power. Jonathan Coulton's songs like Re: Your Brains remain just as fun even beyond the life of the basic joke. Like Coulton, Garfunkel and Oates have a knack for catchy tunes and good songwriting. With a poppy bounce, their folky arrangements become immediate ear worms. Pregnant Women Are Smug is a great example: well after appreciating lines like, "This zen world you're enjoying, makes you really annoying", the music will be rolling through your brain over and over.

The whimsical mix of clever, quirky humor that's sugar coated with nice musical framing reminds me of early Barenaked Ladies. They've polished the arrangements to move beyond the bare bones self-released versions, but All Over Your Face remains true to the band's simple musical vision.

With regular shows in L.A., periodic appearances on the late night circuit, making a pilot for HBO, and finally getting an album out, Garfunkel and Oates have garnered a lot of attention over the last couple of years. Go ahead and get an official copy of All Over Your Face to support them. Even though most of the tunes have made the rounds already, you'll still get a good laugh.

CD review - Callers, Life of Love (2010)

In the beginning, there is a voice. Sara Lucas' voice is the clear starting point for every song on Life of Love. It's rich and vibrant, with a clarity that allows her to add subtle shading. Much of the time, she sounds very close to Maria Muldaur (Midnight at the Oasis).

While the vocals define Callers' sound, their music is much more than just a nice setting. The songs vary from jazzy folk to a reverbed early '60s pop (think Sleep Walk), but there are plenty of other interesting sounds, like Jefferson Airplane's folky psychedelia or Adrian Belew style pop. Ryan Seaton and Don Godwin create wide open spaces of sound that allow for possibility. The nuanced arrangements aren't as flashy as the singing, but they're every bit as important. The accompaniment on the title track, Life of Love, is perfect -- simple bass countered by arpeggiated guitar and percussive guitar fills and a loose, jazzy drum beat

The touchstone track is a cover of Wire's Heartbeat. The original builds on a heartbeat throb, with breathy vocals dropped like stones into pond. It's an anxious mantra, grasping for calm. Callers take the tune into a bluesy Joan Armatrading space. Subtle shifts in the guitar arrangement add a lot of depth without being too overt. The overall feeling is more upbeat and slightly dreamy. They've drained the angst and transformed the song without simplifying or dumbing it down.

Dreamy sounds pervade the album, from the uptempo, jazzy vibe of Glow to the moody build and decay of Young People. My favorite track, though, is Roll, which starts with a Pavement style guitar intro, but then it shifts into a Jefferson Starship feel like Have You Seen the Stars Tonight. The lyrical imagery and supporting musical shifts are exquisite.

This transplanted New Orleans trio has a lot to offer. Life of Love is good on the first listen, but each time I find more sparks of tiny perfection. It's much like a well made Kölsch.

CD review - El Boy Die, The Black Hawk Ladies & Tambourins (2010)

This is the sound from the new traveling circus show
The Black Hawk Ladies and Tambourins
This is the sound of hope and dishonor
This is the sound of betrayal and bewilderment
This is ancient and new
Is anyone here? 'Cause the sound starts now

This is the Sound, the opening track of The Black Hawk Ladies & Tambourins, is a foreboding, but strong beginning. A young girl's voice stands firm against flickers of unresolved sound. It proves a harbinger of the sonic journey that follows. French experimental folk artist El Boy Die has crafted a heady experience, using a mix of mildly psychedelic soundscapes, tribal chanting, and bits of musique concrète.

The Black Hawk Ladies & Tambourins meanders through a series of stations, each part of some unknown rite. The music has a folky foundation, but the layers of subtle percussion, winding melodies, and odd washes of sound imbue each track with a different perspective and mood.

The flow of songs is hard to interrupt to pick favorite moments, but Moona Luna Tears stands out somewhat from the host of folk-based songs. It's jazzy and percussive. The melody wanders and doubles back. Along with the soft, compressed vocals, this creates a hypnotic groove that a lone string solo weaves through.

Under My Broken Tree takes a women's chorale sound and anchors it to a mournful melody. The music behind the chant continually builds until the vocals drop away allowing the music to slide into a tense repetition. The ending takes on background distorted wails of flute.

Finally, Take Me Away starts with a simple folky guitar phrase and haunted, ethereal vocals. Something about the changes and the flow evokes Pink Floyd's Welcome to the Machine. The context is completely different, but that adds depth to the track.

Still, The Black Hawk Ladies & Tambourins is better heard as a complete piece. It rewards each listen with fine background details, like a fine cognac.

CD review - Donavon Frankenreiter, Glow (2010)

Indie rock artist (and pro surfer) Donavon Frankenreiter doesn't worry, he's just happy. With a lazy, laid back, raspy voice somewhere between Macy Gray and Greg Brown, he infuses Glow with a warm, hazy feel. The music is catchy indie pop, with bluesy folk moments. Maybe it's his surfer vibe, but Frankenreiter's cheerful, foot-tapping music is open and inviting.

Glow favors reverbed, shimmery guitars mixed under acoustic instruments. Many of the songs are layered but not overly complex. With the musical bounce and his relaxed vocal delivery, it sounds a lot like Jason Mraz (I'm Yours, for instance). The title cut, Glow, is available on Frankenreiter's MySpace page. It's typical of most of the songs on the album: music that's well suited to a drowsy summer afternoon.

The mood varies occasionally, like the reflective Shadows or the wistful sound of Home. But it all comes back to the theme best summed up in All Right:

Don't worry 'bout a thing
Heaven knows what the day will bring
There's a big old sun, lighting up your sky
Burnin' off your blues, let the good light shine...
It's gonna be all right.

Glow is due out on October 5 on Donavon Frankenreiter's personal label, Liquid Tambourine Records. Pick it up and enjoy it with a sweet sparkling mead.

CD review - Young Man, Boy (2010)

There's a common theme here: Young Man (Colin Caulfield) is releasing a concept album, Boy, about the the trials and experiences of a 5 year old boy. At around 30 minutes, this EP covers its subject well. The opening song, Five, is distant, retro, and sort of folky. Its simple musical sound reflects a child's perspective. The lyrics capture that serious weight that I remember my own son showing occasionally:

My life has changed forever
Now that I've grown a year
But, boy, do I find that I'm feeling quite the same
Now that I'm all grown up
When can we leave cause I'm feeling quite ashamed
Now that I'm all grown up

Sure, there's some of the adult looking back in those lines, but that "Now that I'm all grown up" is perfect.

The rest of the EP occasionally throws in some electronic elements to expand on the simple guitar sound, but that just sets the hook for the mood that Young Man is creating. There's a paradox here. Boy tries to show the simplicity that we see in the subject, yet still catch the depth that's actually there even if we don't remember or notice it.

My favorite song is Just a Growin', which has revels in a faint psychedelia vibe. The rhythm is interesting and the parts build a more dreamy pop feel. The harmonies are a nice touch, reminding me of It's A Beautiful Day, while the guitar during the break evokes an aura of Jerry Garcia.

Boy is a nice musical interlude to add some distance to all of your adult problems. Relax and let it wash over you. How about a nice Hawaiian Punch?

Boy is releasing August 24 on Frenchkiss Records.

CD review - Kelli Scarr, Piece (2010)

Is it her voice or the music? Singer Kelli Scarr creates a hauntingly beautiful sound on her new album, Piece. The arrangements are often introspective interludes, soaked in echo, that create a delicious mood. She's gotten exposure, touring with (and opening for) Moby, but this album reflects more of her experience creating soundtrack music.

Salt to the Sea opens the album, with her lush voice initially evoking Karen Carpenter, then sounding more like Julie Cruise. It's a mellow, yet rich song. The arrangement is masterful, from the simple piano and stereo guitar strum at the start to the filling in sound of string swells, light percussion, and a slowly rocking bassline. Each instrument contributes its part to the greater whole, creating a balanced dynamic to carry the song. The album version on her MySpace page is a better place to hear this than any of the live versions.

On Anything, Scarr takes an indie folk approach, with a pop layer underneath. It's hypnotically soulful. The harmonies are sweet and wistful as the echoed parts add a dreamy quality. The song ends with tatters of sound circling the initial piano.

Throughout Piece, Scarr imbues her simple songs with depth: from the wistful Brother to the achy and vulnerable Break Up. The heavy reverb gives her music a retro sense that comes to feel timeless. It's her voice and the music together that create an ethereal beauty. A rich burgundy wine would complete the mood.

CD review - The Wailing Wall, The Low Hanging Fruit (2010)

Biblical and philosophical themes suffuse The Low Hanging Fruit, the latest album from the Wailing Wall (AKA Jesse Rifkin). Rifkin brings a Dylanesque voice (both in singing and writing), a Camper Van Beethoven world-folk musical aesthetic, and his own mystical and spiritual mindset.

The songs cross-reference one another in numerous ways: a bit of repeated lyric here, a musical element there. The Low Hanging Fruit shows Rifkin's obsession with detail. Every phrases seems tuned and polished, which contrasts well with his rougher, reedy voice. Nowhere does he sound more like Dylan than on Song, which has musical elements of Lily, Rosemay, and the Jack of Hearts and Girl From the North Country. The lyrics are an allegorical love song.

Dandelion has a Grateful Dead feel, with a touch of Camper Van Beethoven. The twinned guitars harmonize sweetly, creating a retro folk-rock groove. There are some biblical references, but it's essentially a love song:

So, how am I doing? I'm happy I guess,
See my head is brighter and my hair's a mess
And happiness is your soft summer dress
Your belly and breasts...

The lyrical delivery is casual, but each phrase fits together just so.

This flows into Lame Situation, which breaks down the Fall from the Garden of Eden. The music starts with a drone hum and whistle, with a soundscape feel. It's a simple song, with banjo and bass backing the vocal, but it builds nicely. There's some interesting use of static and noise that seems to represent the Fall itself. Rifkin's take is perhaps heretical, but clearly humanist:

I've considered His judgment
And it don't make much sense
This is awfully harsh treatment for a first time offense
Only two people damaged
Only one broken rule
This is awfully cruel

There are plenty of other great songs on The Low Hanging Fruit. The debut single, Bones Become Rainbows, is worth a listen - celebratory and trippy, it's another spiritual piece of the Wailing Wall's theme here.

A nice, lighter wine, like a Régnié Beaujolais (not Nouveau) would pair nicely.

CD review - The Morning Pages - Rising Rain (2010)

The Morning Pages have gotten some recent web attention with their take on Lady Gaga's Telephone, which is more tongue in cheek than anything on Rising Rain. But it does give a sense of the band's range, which is more of a mix of '70s folk and country rock blended with mid-'60s rock. It's retro, but vibrant enough to avoid sounding like a museum relic. There are plenty of other references scattered across Rising Rain, which all seem to mesh. The surprise is that this Brooklyn band evokes such a strong California feel.

The opening couple of songs, With the Lord and Stumble Towards the Light, have the strongest country feel. Despite (or maybe because of) the repetitive lyric format, With the Lord is an earworm. It's got a great chorus hook, with sweet harmonies. The leads alternate between a rock grind and a country twang.

Songs like Live With You stir up Jefferson Airplane with the Zombies. This rolls in a smooth retro channel: it's got the changes, the instrumentation, the acid lead, and the general feel of late '60s rock.

This City Keeps Me Down is like Creedence Clearwater Revival covering Chuck Berry's Memphis. Throw the right lead voice on it and it could be anyone from the Beat Farmers to Drive By Truckers. Regardless of the references, it's a rollicking, fun foot-tapper.

For me, though, the sweet spot is Makes Me Cry. It owes a lot to Curtis Mayfield's People Get Ready and a bit to Blind Faith's Presence of the Lord. The piano and organ work are exquisite, like Al Kooper going to church. All the pieces fit together perfectly -- from the smooth guitar to the lagging bass to the rich backing vocals. The bluesy gospel feels perfect after blues vibe of All My Friends.

There's nothing experimental or challenging here, which makes it a comfortable easy chair of an album. There's a plain honesty to these songs, though, that satisfies. It's not a guilty pleasure, Rising Rain is just a pleasure. The effect is like a fine traditional mead; simple honey can still be complex.

CD review - Setting Sun, Fantasurreal (2010)

Frontman Gary Levitt steers his band, Setting Sun, on a meandering line between indie pop and folk. Their latest release, Fantasurreal, due out on June 1, has a foundation of booming drums and electronica fills with Levitt's fragile toned, distant vocals -- which tips the scale towards pop. But the ever present acoustic guitar, sweet harmonies, and strings pull things back into balance. It's an original mix of sounds, even as they evoke elements of Status Quo (Pictures of Matchstick Men) and Camper Van Beethoven. The songs vary from the very upbeat Driving to the simple, reflective The Tree.

One Time Around is a bipolar somersault of a song. The verses take a big drum beat from the Clash's Guns of Brixton, toss on a layer of vocals, and throw in some horn accents to create a philosophically detached feel, The bridges, on the other hand pick up an Eastern European vibe and ominous psychedelic fatalism. The tidal forces try to tear it apart, but it persists unbowed.

Don't Grow Up also shifts sections from a downbeat ballad with a flattened, minor tone to an arcing soar that sounds a little like the Flaming Lips. The drum mix is particularly interesting, with a fat snare and booming kick drum that build in distortion as the song progresses. The embracing strings and earnest lead are just icing on this rich, satisfying tune.

Fantasurreal is a ginger tea of an album, refreshing and occasionally sparkly on the palate.