all around me a voice was sounding

Hey, look -- my first concert of 2018! Thanks to Dave Rawlings and company for the invite.

Dave Rawlings, the Fillmore, March 1, 2018

I'm officially at the point where I've seen Dave Rawlings and Gillian Welch so much that I can no longer recall who headlined at the latest show I attended. Of course, this comes with a couple of caveats: (1) That may be my middle-age senility setting in, and (2) A surfeit of Gill and Dave is a nice problem to have.

The latest Dave Rawlings record got me thinking about how much this band, outfit, arrangement, what have you has evolved over the years. After listening to so many spare, stripped Gillian Welch albums, as well as Dave's naturalistic works, you can hear the more modern production on Poor David's Almanack. "Cumberland Gap," in particular, jumps out at me -- the keyboard, especially. Dave and Gill trading verses sent my mind to Fleetwood Mac, though friends cited "Ohio" by Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young.

This, in turn, led me to reflect on the growth of Dave Rawlings as a frontman. I imagine Dave played plenty of gigs around Nashville when he and Gill were starting out, but I don't think he truly embarked on his own until the last decade or so. I'll brag about this to my dying day, but I was extremely fortunate to have caught Dave and Gill so often when they played Largo regularly at both the old and new locations. Many of those gigs were under Dave's name, so I've been able to witness his act develop and his catalog grow.

Those Largo shows were special, but their visit to the Great American Music Hall on what was probably the first true tour under Dave's name also stands out. We were giddy that night, as San Francisco poured out its long-established love for Gillian Welch onto David. I can still feel the joy streaming from both the performers and the audience.

Obviously, there have been many shows between then and now, but as they took the stage this night, they seemed like a true band for the first time in my memory. The setup is still pretty sparse, with no drum kit or even amps, but heck, Gillian and violinist Brittany Haas wore dresses in matching fabric!

They opened with a rollicking "Lily, Rosemary, and the Jack of Hearts" from Bob Dylan, and as you can imagine, the crowd ate it up. In my opinion, the first half of the show was oddly paced, partly because they don't exactly excel in onstage banter and partly due to song selection. They went with mostly tracks from the new record, but threw in Gill's "Wayside/Back in Time" for the local angle.

They took their usual intermission, and the pace seemed to pick up during the second half, though to their credit, I haven't shared much of their funnier moments. For example, Gill revealed to us that she had slashed her finger just before the show and was relying on glue to keep the bleeding at bay. Also, both Willie Watson and Gill worked a small set of bongo drums for separate songs, and Willie did a few tunes too.

"Miss Ohio" got its obligatory turn during the second set, but believe it or not, it wasn't the highlight. Instead, it was a song from Old Crow Medicine Show ("Hear Them All") married to the Woody Guthrie classic "This Land Is Your Land," and let me tell you -- it feels like we need that song more than ever these days. No one had to say anything else; our voices singing together did all the talking. Another fun moment from the second set: the aforementioned Brittany Haas trading in her violin for a guitar (on a song whose name I can't remember). Guess what? She was really good. Also, Dave at one point played electric guitar, which never happens at Gill's shows.

But they truly saved the best for last, as they tore through an encore sequence that included a Radiohead cover ("Black Star"), another Dylan cover ("Queen Jane Approximately"), and a Bright Eyes/Neil Young medley ("Method Acting"/"Cortez the Killer"). The last two songs were especially punishing, and for the umpteenth time, I marveled at how they wrench so much tension from that Dylan track. For the third and final encore, they went into a five-person version of "Go to Sleep You Little Baby" (a first for me), and we thought it was over -- but no! They brought back "Jack of Hearts" to bring it full circle.

Dave looked exhausted as they truly bade us good night, for good reason. I hope our cheers and applause let him know that we appreciated every ounce of sweat he poured out onstage.

And finally, one more memory of the night I'd like to share. See you again soon!

“The human rhythm section.” Great photo by @pneyu from 3rd encore at the Fillmore. . . #davidrawlings #gillianwelch #williewatson #didntleavenobodybutthebaby

A post shared by Gillian Welch (@gillianwelchofficial) on Mar 7, 2018 at 11:41am PST

See also:
» i remember standing by the wall
» that's all they really want
» hotter than a pepper sprout

to be young is to be sad

Gillian Welch and Dave Rawlings are two pillars of the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival, so it's no surprise when they show up on the schedule and/or announce a show close to the date. Often, it's both, as was the case this year.

Dave Rawlings Machine, the Fillmore, Sept. 30, 2016: In the early days of the Dave Rawlings Machine, a lot of people simply assumed it was a Gillian Welch show under another name. Fortunately, expectations have changed, now that the Rawlings Machine has a discography and everything. The group also seems to have found a steady lineup, which is probably a good development for any band's continued growth. I enjoyed the spare, early shows as much as anyone, but I appreciate the growing differentiation between the projects.

Last time I saw the Rawlings Machine, the new record had recently come out, but with about a year since that show, the band had revised the setlist somewhat. We got a number of album tracks ("The Weekend," "Pilgrim," "Sweet Tooth"), as well as a few spotlights for Gillian ("Wayside/Back in Time," "Miss Ohio") and Willie Watson ("Keep It Clean"). Bassist Paul Kowert (also seen in Punch Brothers) and his deep bass tones even got a turn on the mic for "He Will Set Your Fields on Fire," which I've come to love in all its twangy glory. I should also mention they hit "Queen Jane Approximately" earlier in the show, and I totally clapped my hands and squealed when I recognized the song. However, they threw in a bunch of songs I didn't recognize at all, and I don't know if they were new tunes or traditional titles. With the Rawlings Machine, it can be very hard to tell.



As it was Hardly Strictly weekend, there was some question of which guests would drop in. One was fairly obvious from the beginning, and it happens, it was the only guest I wanted to see: Robyn Hitchcock, who had a couple of appearances scheduled at the festival.

It finally hit me this umpteenth time I've seen Robyn appear as a guest: maybe he's the dominant through line of my musical fandom? He ties my early love of British music to my current preference for folksier artists. Little did I know that the Soft Boys influenced such American bands as REM, Uncle Tupelo, and more. By the same token, I had no idea Robyn was steeped in Roxy Music, though that probably should've been a no-brainer for any UK musician of the time. Anyway, that's oversimplifying several decades of music fandom, but I can't resist the urge to trace a pattern.

With Robyn, they did "Goin' to Acapulco" and "The Weight," which were great but strangely anticlimatic compared to other amazing songs I've seen them do together.

The core crew closed out with the perennial "Didn't Leave Nobody but the Baby," all five of them gathered around the microphone. The classic formation, at least since they recorded it for O Brother, Where Art Thou?, usually incorporates female voices, but Dave and Gill have been able to adapt it to the singers around them. It's always a vision, as they all come together with nothing but their voices ringing out and their bodies (hands, feet) for percussion.

I hope they continue to grace us with their annual visits.

See also:
» that's all they really want
» pretty please with sugar on top

pretty please with sugar on top

Two Gillian Welch/Dave Rawlings appearances in one month? What am I -- 12 and at my boyfriend's frat party? What is this -- 2008 to 2009, when I hit Largo on a monthly basis? Nope, not even close, but I'll take it for a Dave Rawlings Machine show at the Warfield.

Dave Rawlings Machine, the Warfield, Oct. 19, 2015: According to my records, I last saw the Dave Rawlings Machine (not to be confused with Gillian Welch) in 2010. I think the band came through San Francisco during the interim, but I must've been out of town, because there's no way in hell I'd miss them otherwise. Oh wait, DRM played Hardly Strictly last year, but I was camped out at a different stage for Mavis Staples. It happens! Moral of the story: It's been way too long.



During this interim, the band has transformed. Whereas the first record felt like a charming, casual collection of tunes, the new record sounds more deliberate, more somber, and more complicated, and perhaps it's more of a statement of DRM's evolving musical direction. It's impossible to overlook the Neil Young influence, but better-informed minds can cite better candidates than I can. (Keep in mind that my idea of roots music is the first two Roxy Music albums.) Also, though DRM has always been a collaborative affair, this tour seem to cement the group-oriented feel, with dedicated extra band members Willie Watson, Paul Kowert, and Brittany Haas.

I feel like this record's biggest statement is its growing contrast with the Gillian Welch albums. Yes, they write the songs together and work collaboratively every step of the way, but good luck finding strings or piano on a Gillian record. Early on, when DRM was kind of an occasional treat and side project, their differences were harder to pinpoint, but I can hear it more clearly now (and not only in the voices).

However, the format of their show endures with a sparse setup (now doubled to two tables) and no amps to speak of. Instead, they made do with several microphones, a couple of banjos, a few guitars, a stand-up bass, two fiddles/violins, and probably more harmonicas than we could see.

Dave and Gill often like to facetiously comment on their professionalism, and you'll never mistake their show for a Vegas production -- but that's not why you see Dave and Gill. At times, they have starts and stops and pauses, but overall, it's always a warm, laid-back affair. Dave was clearly the driver, but they shared the spotlight at times. Of course, some dude yelled for "Miss Ohio" early on, but that didn't happen. Instead, Gill's solo song was "Wayside/Back in Time," which is kind of a no-brainer in San Francisco. Also in a nod to San Francisco (probably), they did a Grateful Dead cover of "Candyman," appended to Dylan's "Dear Landlord." Of course, though I can't possibly describe what he does, remember that Dave has a way of working beautiful, unexpected guitar riffs into every song to leave you wondering how he can carry it off.



Willie Watson got a couple of numbers, and Paul Kowert stepped out as the bass voice on "Fields of Fire" and "The Weight." I have to admit that Willie is not my cup of tea, though I know he and Old Crow Medicine Show have a strong following. Paul Kowert, however, was great, and I wish we could hear more of him with both DRM and Punch Brothers. Brittany didn't sing, but she took a couple of highlight turns, such as on "Method Acting/Cortez the Killer."

Among the new songs, "Pilgrim" was my favorite, with the long outro and mingled voices, and both "The Trip" and "The Weekend" are worth your patience as the songs unfold. After the show, I couldn't stop thinking about the trio of songs as a chronicle of road life or maybe an existential journey. Short of sitting down with the lyrics in front of me, I have nothing else to add to the thought bubble, but I'd love to hear any comments on the topic.

Obviously, Dave and Gill are not a pop act, and they don't rely on hits ("Miss Ohio" aside) to attract their audience. Nonetheless, we fans come to the show for certain gems -- often the traditional tunes we never would've heard otherwise. Though a little twang goes a long way for my tastes, I love Dave and Gill doing "He Will Set Your Fields on Fire." I chalk it up the sublime combination of voices and impeccable timing, and it puts a huge smile on my face.

Dave and Gill have amassed such a deep catalog that they're bound to miss a song you were dying to hear, but hopefully, they'll include one you haven't heard in a while, if at all. I gotta admit I've been craving a rendition of "Queen Jane Approximately," but alas, not tonight.* Instead, we got "The Weight," followed by "Go to Sleep You Little Baby," both of which make a ton of sense when you have all those singers onstage.

I can name on one hand all the bands/performers I'd drop everything to see. Make no mistake: Dave and Gill are in that group. Whatever name they take, I'll be there for their next date.

* During Robyn Hitchcock's set at this year's Hardly Strictly, it occurred to me that Gillian, Dave, and Robyn all do songs about queens and Elvis. Wouldn't it be great to hear them mashup their tunes? Come on, the world needs "Queen Elvis Approximately" and "Queen Elvis Presley Blues"! I know they can do it -- let's make it happen.

See also:
» this old rain's just about soaked through
» summer noon
» that's the way the cornbread crumbles
» oh me oh my oh

one day like this a year

Rocktober has arrived, and in San Francisco, that means Hardly Strictly Bluegrass is in session. This marks the 11th year of the festival, and by those standards, I'm a relative newcomer, but I can't imagine my year without this grand gathering. Also, it gives me a reason to never move out of the Richmond District.

Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival, September 30 to October 23, 2011: Certainly, there's more than one way to navigate a free, sprawling music festival that's intended to mix genres, audiences, and generations, but I do it the only way I know how: by trying to impose some order on the vast list of activities and expanse of land. This year, it meant not really sleeping Friday night and hopping on a 7 am flight so that I could get home, pull myself together, and wander down to Golden Gate Park by noon.

From there, the day became a little easier, and I managed to flit between stages for a number of bands. For me, Robyn Hitchcock kicked off the festival at the Rooster Stage. Once again, I didn't make it to the field proper; the hillside was just fine, and this time, the sound was great -- or maybe it was the simple acoustic setup.



Robyn started out by himself with "Cynthia Mask", but he was first joined by Abigail Washburn, then by Gillian Welch and David Rawlings. The quartet carried off a fine selection of Robyn's back catalog, from his work with the Egyptians ("Queen Elvis," "Balloon Man") to the Venus 3 ("Ole Tarantula"). Robyn even worked up the San Francisco angle with a nod to Magnum Force in "(A Man's Gotta Know His Limitations) Briggs" and with the concluding Grateful Dead cover ("Candyman"). Little did I know it wouldn't be the last of Robyn over the weekend.

Following Robyn's set, I headed out to catch another British icon: Hugh Laurie. Look, I don't typically favor actor/musicians, but I'm not automatically opposed to them either, and no, I'm not trying to cover my ass in case certain thespians decide to hit the road. Heck, I actually like She & Him.

But about Hugh Laurie -- first of all, the crowd was huge for the Towers of Gold stage, usually one of the less populated areas of the park. I heard more than one person yelling out for Dr. House (I've never watched the show myself), and at least one woman admitted she had no idea he was British until that very moment. This is all superfluous, though. Hugh Laurie's performance was surprisingly good. A fellow next to me likened Hugh's first number to Cab Calloway, and his voice was quite expressive. His backing band was solid, and overall, they did a great job.

I ran out for a little bit but returned in time to hear snippets of the Kris Kristofferson/Merle Haggard set before finding an inadequate spot for Broken Social Scene. I haven't cooled on the band since their last date in San Francisco, but as this was my casual day and I had a ticket for their show at the Fillmore the same evening, I didn't want to squeeze my way up front. Instead, I found a spot in the midfield. My mistake -- the chatter and the traffic were distracting, though I guess you have to expect that of a free event.



Broken Social Scene put together a standard festival set, heavy with selections from the most recent record. However, they still managed to surprise me with the inclusion of several seminal You Forgot It in People tracks, including "Shampoo Suicide." I thought for sure I'd never get to hear this one live again and, more important for my blog, to publicly air my pretentious rock critic theory: Come on, people, it's totally a cross between Fleetwood Mac's "Gypsy" and Malcolm McLaren's "Madame Butterfly" -- and that's high praise!

After Broken Social Scene, I took a swing through the rest of the park. Along the way, I heard one song in Gillian Welch's set, but fortunately, it was my favorite track from the new record, "Hard Times." I eventually ended up back at the Rooster Stage overlook for a portion of the Punch Brothers, who also covered a song from the latest Gillian Welch album. In the past, I've heard them do "Wayside/Back in Time," but they've added "Down Along the Dixie Line" to their repertoire, sped up about five-fold. The Punch Brothers may have been the only bluegrass artists I saw during this entire bluegrass-leaning festival, and in case I had any doubts about the genre's popularity, the dancing crowds inside the rooster pen dispelled all such thoughts.

That was Saturday, but Sunday was another story, with one goal: Elbow! With Julie's early foothold, we were able to make steady progress through Dr. John and Devotchka until we were at the front for the headliners, and thanks to the convenient PA setup, we heard Emmylou Harris join Buddy Miller for his set, as well as Bob Mould's show on the abutting stage. I love it when a plan comes together.

According to my records, Elbow hasn't toured here in three years. They do well enough in England, but they're not exactly superstars, and obviously, their profile is lower in the United States. And let's not even raise the question of how they were booked for an ostensibly bluegrass festival. I'm willing to leave that stone unturned, but I was suspicious of the crowd that gathered at the rail for Elbow's set. However, through the simple act of reaching out and communicating, it turns out they were committed fans, even if -- ahem! -- many of them had never caught the band live before. (Bonus: They were really nice people too.) Hey, I feel like I haven't really seen a band until their fifth appearance anyway, so we were practically on the same level.

Elbow had an hour to cast their spell, but the magic took hold within seconds. I've said it before: Guy Garvey is charm incarnate, and his very presence immediately puts you at ease. He works the crowd like a champ, pointing and waving at far corners of the field, making connections with far-flung audience members. I wouldn't presume that the San Francisco audience is the first to receive such attention, but it still feels sincere. As usual, we were eating out of their hand, as well as lending our voices, whistles, and handclaps of support. According to Guy, the feelings were mutual, as he heaped praise on our city and the festival itself toward the end of their slot.

Elbow crafts dense, complex, and sprawling songs, and I wondered how much actual music we'd get to hear between Guy's lilting banter. Clearly, there was no way to represent their entire discography in this limited set, and as it turned out they favored the last couple of records. I don't think we heard a single early track, which is a small loss, but "Lippy Kids" managed to push a bunch of emotional buttons in me. Also, I have to admit The Seldom Seen Kid deserves as much attention as you can spare. For my favorite artists such as Elbow, more is always better, but Hardly Strictly Bluegrass will tide me over until the next headlining tour.



See also:
» throw those curtains wide
» talking trash under your breath
» don't get around much anymore

everybody's gotta learn sometimes

It's official, kids: Three months, three shows, and three sellouts--Jon Brion's shows (mach, er, four?) at Largo at the Coronet are no longer casual affairs. Procrastinate at your own risk.

Jon Brion, Largo at the Coronet, March 26, 2010: Technically, with the late announcement of Jon's Saturday date, the count is up to four shows, but I couldn't make it to the Saturday gig, despite the promise of a superspecial guest. Since we're crunching numbers and talking tallies, I'll also mention that this is the second time this year I've missed an exclusive Largo appearance by an unnamed musician. You can kinda blame a certain band for dominating my calendar, but truth be told, I was on my way to western Maryland for a hard-won brunch reservation. I don't regret it at all!

For the first eight songs of his set, Jon drifted between moody, introspective pieces and his more energetic numbers, and you could chalk up the course of the evening to the typically varied and unrehearsed nature of his shows. Thus, Jon balanced the one-two punch of "Someone Else's Problem Now" and the ever stunning Magnolia theme with a build of "Girl I Knew," featuring a bluesy guitar breakdown in the middle.

Trailing the power pop of "It Looks Like You," a chamberlin- and MicroKORG-infused "Moon River" trickled out on a jazzy stream. He pulled no stops with "Walking Through Walls," though equipment problems threatened to derail him. I couldn't tell you what was happening with the gear, except that you could see Jon cursing at pedals and guitars at various points of the song. In the meantime, he managed to tease out a hint of Les Paul, and he drew us in to the chorus as he segued into "Rock and Roll." The Magnolia theme had inspired applause from the audience, but the Gary Glitter nod was one of the first signs of levity for the night.

If you had to pick a highlight for the first set, you could do worse than the next selection: a build of "Everybody's Gotta Learn Sometimes," an already breathtaking song that Jon augmented with one of the finest uses of the video mixers I've seen from him. First, there was an unnamed orchestra; next, Jon called up the well-worn Nels Cline footage.

The former, as you might expect, supplied the strings. Nels, through the magic of modern technology, came through with an eerily appropriate guitar solo that sounded as if he had penned the tune itself. In hindsight, this title embodied the evening's emotional tone, as Jon somewhat confirmed with the soliloquy that ensued.

Jon spoke for the first time that night, thanking us profusely for--slightly paraphrased--letting him disappear his own ass. Then he cut to the chase, remarking on the recent abundance of death, specifically citing Mark Linkous and Alex Chilton. In addition to lauding their talent, he told us to not request their songs and to listen to their records instead--a familiar refrain to anyone who's been to Largo after the passing of any of the greats.

But he also referred to an unnamed friend and shared a story about the jacket he was wearing that night. Mind you, I've seen this jacket before--it's not an item you'll forget. Though it possesses a certain Touluose Lautrec quality, it's an, um, acquired taste. With his anecdote, Jon not only explained the jacket's origins, but paid tribute to the friend. I take back everything I've ever said about the jacket--he should wear it every chance he gets.

To break up the mood, Jon asked for requests and chose a song that he said he'd heard the other day on the iPod, reminding him of how much he loved the album. It was the Cars' "Just What I Needed," performed on the vibes, and we came through with the chorus and with giggles. About two-thirds into the song, a section of the vibes fell off, in keeping with the rash of technical issues that had popped up all night. Jon finished the tune, but at its conclusion, he turned over the setup, a la Keith Moon.

At the side of the stage, we could see some of the Largo regulars gawking and pointing at the seeming scrap heap, but Jon wasted no time in channeling that energy into "Tomorrow Never Knows." Atop the foundation of looped beats and piano notes, Jon added jangly riffs and an analog synth frenzy, then recruited several video contributors: Eric Clapton, early breakdancers, Buddy Guy, a Cajun fiddler, and Nels Cline (again). I know this song invites chaos, and it'd be hard to urge order on it, but this video mix proved less effective than the first outing. Nonetheless, I appreciated the return to the piano and Krautrock outro.

For the encore, Jon rolled out an especially echoing and chiming "Waterloo Sunset"--proving again to be a great emotional salve--and the charming Dylan-inspired take on "Knock Yourself Out." Then it was off to the Little Room for Set No. 2.

It was a slightly unusual scene in the Little Room: Occupying the bench at the front of the chamber were a few of talents who usually hover closer to the back of the space, waiting to be called to the stage for their contribution. Tonight, they seemed not unlike some of the patrons, enjoying drinks and each other's company. Their informal stance became clearer when Jon arrived, Kevin Barnes in tow for the second month running. Positioned at the piano, Jon stationed Kevin at the mic.

Kevin still doesn't carry the casual air of a Largo fixture, but his faith in Jon came through clearly as he belted out a couple of covers that couldn't have been more different from each other. The first, "I Want You Back," opened up the room and picked up our already high spirits. The second, "Mother," was raw and tormented. The tears visibly flowing down his face only confirmed everything you heard in his voice and the song.

Kevin left a huge hole with his departure, but Dave Rawlings and Gillian Welch--whom I last saw in Seattle--took up the challenge. They knocked out one of their own, then a favorite cover (that brought out huge smiles from Gillian), and from there, the stage became a revolving door of sorts. Sara and Sean Watkins, naturally, appeared for a couple of tunes, and Benmont Tench stepped in too.

I didn't catch the name of the Johnny Horton song, but we all caught sight of Gillian dancing along to it, her cowboy boots also conveniently supplying the beat. Though Dave struggled with the second verse, you gotta give him some credit--the tune had a lot of words.

This old-time marching anthem inspired Jon to proceed down a path that perhaps only he could carry off: a bluegrass version of the Smiths' "Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now." The mind reels at the thought of what Johnny Marr might've wrought had he listened to more Ralph Stanley records, but I'm not going to argue with the thesis set forth tonight. Also, I'd like to mention that my second request of the evening ("Suedehead") was shot down during the lull that followed; I will, however, revisit the possibilities of "9 to 5" in the future.

"Flat Foot Floogie" ostensibly started as a duet between Jon and Benmont, but Dave--standing just offstage with his guitar still slung across his shoulders--contributed so much to it, from the opening urging of a "barrelhouse" tune to random notes through the course of the song, that Jon and Benmont convinced him to come back to the spotlight.

Still, it wasn't over. The musicians left the stage, and the lights flickered on and off, yet one more song awaited. Jon concluded the show with a jazzy instrumental number, the kind I'm completely useless at identifying. I'm going to throw out the highly debatable opinion that it might've been "Ain't Misbehavin'." If you have information to the contrary, feel free to let me know.

Set 1
--piano
--Someone Else's Problem Now
--Magnolia theme
--Girl I Knew
--It Looks Like You
--Moon River
--Walking Through Walls
--Everybody's Gotta Learn Sometimes
--Just What I Needed
--Tomorrow Never Knows

encore
--Waterloo Sunset
--Knock Yourself Out

Set 2
--I Want You Back *
--Mother *
--Everything Is Free @
--Tired Eyes @
--Early in the Morning #
--Reality Calls #
--? $
--? [Johnny Horton song] %
--Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now %
--Pretty Peggy-O %
--Flat Foot Floogie ^

encore
--piano

* = Jon Brion and Kevin Barnes
@ = Jon Brion, Dave Rawlings, and Gillian Welch
# = Jon Brion, Dave Rawlings, Gillian Welch, and Sara and Sean Watkins
$ = Jon Brion, Dave Rawlings, Sara Watkins, and Gillian Welch
% = Jon Brion, Dave Rawlings, Benmont Tench, Sara Watkins, and Gillian Welch
^ = Jon Brion, Dave Rawlings, and Benmont Tench

See also:
» three-god night
» really quite out of sight
» this old rain's just about soaked through

this old rain's just about soaked through

Timbits, I promise, are the key to getting through customs. Hell, it's worked for me twice now, and I'll never bid Vancouver good-bye without a pack in my bag. The next stop was Seattle (again) for the express purpose of seeing the Dave Rawlings Machine at the Showbox.

Dave Rawlings Machine, Showbox at the Market, February 14, 2010: Once upon a time, I used to see bands--plural--and not just a few groupings of select musicians. I won't presume any reasoning will suffice, but I'll try to point out that these favored artists have a way of keeping things interesting. They change up their sets to varying degrees and have a way of springing surprises. The Dave Rawlings Machine, while highlighting the album they're ostensibly promoting, revealed a couple of tricks up their sleeves at their show in Seattle.

Aiding and abetting their efforts were the Old Crow trio, as they had been for the duration of this tour, but they picked up another accomplice on this swing: Benmont Tench. It might be disingenuous for me to call Benmont's arrival unexpected, considering how often I've seen these players in combination, but his presence helped assuage the anguish--if "anguish" is the right word when I've already been so spoiled by their appearances--I felt over missing them (and even more friends) at the Fillmore the week before. By way of an introduction, Dave explained that he just likes to hear Benmont play, but the crowd around me, I venture, would've been on board with the addition, regardless of Dave's endorsement.

For all of Dave's kind words, though, Benmont wasn't exempt from abiding by the headliner's whims. Tonight, it meant he'd be subjected to one of the songs more often associated with his day job: "Stop Draggin' My Heart Around." To his credit, he fully committed to the ride.

This song, among others, anchored the show's Valentine's Day theme. As Dave and Gillian noted early on, the old-time tunes and murder ballads they know so well aren't exactly conducive to the celebration. As proof, they shared a sliver of their vast knowledge of the genre, listing a couple rules of thumb if you find yourself in a traditional composition and want to survive:

1. Don't go for a walk by a river.


2. Don't date anyone named Willie.

In the spirit of the day, they gave us a truncated version of "Banks of the Ohio," called off before the events turned bloody, thus limiting the song to exactly one verse. As an antidote, they launched into their own romantic piece--singular--though Dave had to jog Gillian's memory as to what it could be ("My Dear Someone," for those playing along at home).

One of the biggest questions for me going into this gig had to do with how the audience would react to the Rawlings Machine and vice versa. Certainly, I knew the musicians would receive nothing less than a warm reception and put on nothing short of a fun show. But after taking in Largo's ragtag dress rehearsals, the Great American Music Hall's kinetic anticipation, or the Fillmore's outright hero worship (under Gillian's name) last October, I was curious to find out if this setting would distinguish itself.

The show got off to a solid, if polite start, but the acclaim grew louder as the night proceeded, to the point where the musicians were called back for three encores in all. Every time they polished off a song I thought they couldn't possibly follow ("Go to Sleep Little Baby"--performed a cappella, of course, and punctuated by Gillian's hand claps and finger snaps--and "The Weight," both in four-part harmony), the audience convinced them to come back again.

At the very end, Dave implied they had exhausted their store of love songs but managed to come up with their last serenade of the evening. They chose well--I love Dave and Gillian's way with a ballad as much as the next person, but I'll gladly take the rush of "Jackson," as we heard tonight, any day.

See also:
» when you gonna live your life right
» hotter than a pepper sprout
» time's a revelator

built up with their bare hands

Before I get started, a warning: If you're looking for anything approaching a change of pace in this blog, don't come back until next month. It's going to look a lot like Groundhog Day around here for the next few weeks, and kicking off this coming chorus is the Dave Rawlings Machine with a show at the Mystic Theatre.

Dave Rawlings Machine, Mystic Theatre, February 8, 2010: Years ago, when a British friend tried to disabuse me of my love for a certain U.K band, he based his appeal on the fact that the group came from Birmingham, aka the Midlands, aka the English equivalent of flyover country. In other words, they had funny accents. I brushed off his slander and informed him that some of my favorite cousins, when they first arrived in the United States, also settled in Birmingham--Alabama, that is. No stigma there!

I remembered this story when I realized that this blog has taken on a discernible bent recently. You see, my family originally settled in Louisville, Kentucky, when we arrived in the States--you know, bluegrass country. So it makes perfect sense that I'm lining up to see the Dave Rawlings Machine again, right?

I don't buy it either, but fortunately, the artists--by virtue of being so damn good--provide all the cover I need. Besides, this isn't exactly the same Rawlings Machine I last saw in April. For one thing, their album Friend of a Friend has come out, and they've gathered a few members of the Old Crow Medicine Show for their nationwide tour. It would've been enough to hear some of the songs they've kept secret and to take in the new arrangements on the more familiar titles, but even though I've seen the Rawlings Machine more times than I can name, Dave and Gillian's music jumped to another level with this assemblage of talent.

In short, they had a real band now, and with them they brought multipart harmonies, reworked arrangements, double teams on both harmonica and fiddle, expanded bridges, new solos, and in the case of "Sweet Tooth," a little choreographed dance routine. If I had to cite any one aspect of Dave and Gillian's talent as their ultimate strength, I'd point to their vocals, but their already solid standing got another boost with the melding of Willie Watson's and Ketch Secor's voices.

I've discovered that no Rawlings Machine gig would be complete without someone pining for a secret Gillian Welch show, and this appearance was no different. Take, for example, this classic statement I overheard while waiting in line to get into the theater: "I like him, but I'm really here for her." Sigh.

What can you do, right? I hope that the aforementioned patron came away with some appreciation for the duo as a whole and maybe an understanding of how they complement each other. Barring that, I'll assume he enjoyed Gillian's turn in the spotlight with "No One Knows My Name" and "Look at Miss Ohio," the latter reworked to take advantage of all the singers onstage and to highlight what may be the best refrain in a song full of quotables.

Dave and Gillian's string of shows at Largo over the last year-plus has never lacked in appearances by their coterie of musical friends, and the same can be said of their Bay Area concerts. The guest tonight was Peter Rowan, who joined them for several tunes, including a Grateful Dead mini medley and the bulk of the encore.

Often, Dave and Gillian's choice of covers mystifies me, simply because they draw so deep from the American songbook and frequently in expanses that are completely foreign to me. Imagine my relief, then, when I noticed Peter Rowan shaking his head in admiration and, perhaps, respect in reaction to Dave's suggestion for a cover--"Walls of Time," I believe. If even a veteran musician can be daunted by Dave and Gillian's mastery, there's hope for the rest of us yet.

See also:
» when you gonna live your life right
» i've been traveling near and far
» time's a revelator

bring it on home

I didn't expect to be back at Largo and a Jon Brion show so soon, but somehow, it always works out. I'll skip the usual rigmarole of concocting an excuse and simply proceed to the report.

Jon Brion, Largo at the Coronet, September 4, 2009: Most visitors may not know this about Los Angeles, but this city of transplants is a veritable ghost town for the holidays. There's no better time to visit than Christmas, and traffic never materialized this Labor Day weekend. Granted, that may have been partly due to the Station Fire raging a valley away, but in true Hollywood fashion, we were shielded from the reality.

Largo managed to buck this trend, and to our surprise at least, the big room filled up nicely by the time the show was about to begin. After commending us for sticking around, Jon sat down at the piano for an instrumental opening that I--for once--recognized: Cole Porter's "Everytime We Say Goodbye," I believe, proving that the Red Hot + Blue compilation ranks among my better music purchases.

Turning his attention to a couple of originals, Jon lingered over a particularly Eno-esque intro to "Over Our Heads," but "Further Along" turned out to be more a battle of wills between Jon and his guitar. Rest assured, Jon prevailed.

The last time I saw Jon's show, it was the day after Les Paul's death, and we speculated if and/or how he'd honor the memory (with full knowledge that he usually does so by not attempting the dearly departed's music so soon after the loss). The tribute didn't transpire that night, except for some old TV footage playing on the flat-screen in the Little Room.

I guess the moratorium had lifted because Jon combined two separate audience requests, first for the Les Paul treatment, then for Harry Nilsson. "Alone Again Naturally" required more tinkering than usual, but by the time Jon hit his stride, it sounded magnificent, with a bridge that can only be described as delightful and oodles of fine fingerpicking--if only all posthumous salutes were so joyful and dignified.

The video mix kicked off with an elderly guitar player I can't name, and after isolating and looping a certain measure, Jon matched it to some footage of Toscanini (maybe) for an almost pastoral affect. It took me a while, but after Jon added a MicroKorg-derived beat, I finally figured out the song: "That's Just What You Are" with a chamber-pop twist.

From here, Jon asked for requests in earnest, and a small chorus of voices prevailed with a suggestion for "Little Person." Though he seemed less than certain of its key, I was thrilled to finally hear this tune--the highlight of a movie I desperately wanted to like--for myself.

Maybe it was the long weekend, or maybe it was the fires, but the audience requests seemed more ludicrous than usual. Then again, maybe it's always like that, except that Jon actually humored them tonight, though not without an inscrutable silence. I'm pretty sure I've heard Jon do "Electric Avenue" before, at least in part, but this may have been the first time I've seen it in toto, built from the floor up. In case you're wondering what it actually sounded like, imagine Eddie Grant taking a detour through Paisley Park. (No, seriously.)

I'm pretty sure the next selection came from an audience request, moving Jon back to the video mixers. His first clip was of recent vintage: an MTV show with Alexa Chung and Adrian Grenier on drums. Matched up with an orchestra and an opera singer, they comprised a grand backing band for the Kinks song we ultimately heard. I've comment before that sometimes it's hard to pick out the discrete elements of Jon's multimedia mashups, but as with the evening's previous video foray, the collaborators' roles were clear and distinct.

Early in the show, we spied a spectator in the wings and waited for the announcement from the stage. But apparently, the visitor's presence was completely lost on Jon until Bret informed him at nearly the end of the set. So while Jon urged us to shout out more requests, he ducked away, welcomed his friend, then finally brought her forward: Gillian Welch, last seen at Largo in July.

Jon and Gillian tried to include us in their decision-making process, but the crowd consensus on "Safety Dance" (not me) probably spiked that idea. Instead, they went with what Gill knew how to sing, and both songs turned out to be fine selections. Gill even got in some time on the drum kit for "You Can't Always Get What You Want." This preference carried over into the encore, so with Gill once more holding up the bottom end and Jon asking for Sun-style slapback, they looked to Sam Cooke, and I thought of at least one person in Los Angeles who really should've been there.

Over in the Little Room, Jon called us lucky bastards and ceded the stage to Benmont Tench and Gillian Welch. From our front-row perch, it hit me almost immediately: There's no reason for these world-class musicians, whose audiences regularly number in the thousands, to play for the two dozen people who stuck around tonight. Yet they do, and as trite as this may sound, it seems they're motivated by nothing other than their love of music.

In the main room, Gill and Jon had established that their brains were "mush," so it fell to Benmont to play the crucial role of arbiter. He provided the request for "Wabash Cannonball," which established a mini trend of train songs for the night. Benmont would also assume lead vocals on "How Deep Is the Ocean" when Jon commanded him to "take one."

Jon's presence was something of a question mark until, two songs in, Gillian called him back to the stage. He dutifully obliged, but also managed to steer clear of the mic, content to sit on the floor for much of the show, mostly supporting the others on guitar, backing vocals, and er, Guinness. He was helped in part by David Rawlings's eventual arrival, guitar and guitar case in hand.

Though there was much give and take between the musicians, David ostensibly took the lead, singing a handful of songs himself and sharing the duties with Gillian on the others. Actually, my notes show that Gill did most of the singing, but they came together at the mic often--just the way we like it. My favorite moment might've been "Elvis Presley Blues," which David started, but Gillian closed the deal in one of those effortless handoffs that characterize their partnership. Along the way, Jon had been moved to leap to his feet in solidarity with David, and Benmont gave us a gorgeous glissade on "Wildwood Flower."

After the show concluded but before we left the premises, we caught a peek at one more spectacle: Gillian, David, and Jon singing in a cappella harmony just outside the Little Room, carrying off what we think was one of the titles they passed over just minutes before. I don't kid myself that I've seen everything possible at Largo (or that such a compendium exists), but it sure was a pleasure to check that item off the list that I didn't even know I was keeping.

Set 1
--Everytime We Say Goodbye
--Over Our Heads
--Further Along
--I Really Don't Want to Know
--Alone Again Naturally
--That's Just What You Are
--Little Person
--Electric Avenue
--This Is Where I Belong
--Same Mistakes
--Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain *
--You Can't Always Get What You Want *

encore
--Bring It on Home to Me *

Set 2
--Make Me a Pallet **
--Wabash Cannonball **
--Love in Vain **
--How Deep Is the Ocean **
--Copper Kettle ***
--Mountain Dew ***
--Window Up Above ***
--Elvis Presley Blues ***
--Wildwood Flower ***
--It's Too Easy ***

* = with Gillian Welch
** = with Gillian Welch and Benmont Tench
*** = with Gillian Welch, Benmont Tench, and David Rawlings

See also:
» i've got it bad
» i've been traveling near and far

lost inside adorable illusion

You know the drill by now: If I'm at Largo on a Thursday (or a Saturday--heck, or a Sunday), I'm also going to be there on Friday for Jon Brion's gig. You can set your clock by it.

Jon Brion, Largo at the Coronet, July 17, 2009: First things first: Jon didn't wear exactly the same outfit on Friday as he had on Thursday. In fact, we'd see a costume change before the end of the night, but I'll get to that eventually.

Jon started off with what he ironically deemed a "whiz-bang opener," but following that, he launched into a block of originals, including what sounded like a new song on electric guitar. Along the way, he piled the percussion on "Happy with You," and made liberal use of the whammy bar for "Girl I Knew." "Here We Go," though, was the treasure; Jon changed up the bridge, the additional notes subtly recasting the song and nudging it off its waltz-time foundation.

I've attempted to describe Jon's audio/video forays in earlier posts, but I suspect my accounts have raised more questions than they've answered. This time, I can be clear: He owned it tonight, layering footage of a Latin band, sprinkling in video of a sax player, and working his own magic to emerge with--ta da!--"More Than This." Let the swooning commence.

The requests commenced with a somewhat obscure Aztec Camera track, but it took a while before Jon figured out what else he wanted to tackle. The mashup that ensued got off to an inauspicious start with a Cat Stevens tune, but I don't think anyone expected Jon to land on "Wake Me Up Before You Go Go" not once but twice--that second time under the cloak of "Strawberry Fields."

In an unusual move--and one he apologized for--Jon wanted to make up for the previous week's rendition of "Shine On You Crazy Diamond." I don't know what the earlier performance entailed, but this night, it required a music stand, lyrics sheets, and the vibes. No do-overs were needed this time.

Then it was back to the videotape. Essentially, in support of footage of an old Creole fiddle player, Jon cued up a performance of Ravi Shankar and added some accents, such as echo and diffusion effects, as well as his own instrumentation. In other words, it was his one-man band conceit, further amplified. Jon would also splice in video of a guitar lesson and '50s-era singers before the song, and the main set, ended.

I was under the impression that Jon no longer performed encores, but I was wrong--and glad for it. When Jon asked if "Michel" was still around, Evonne and I gaped. Yes, "Michel" was Michel Gondry, the film director, former rock drummer, and Jon's occasional collaborator. It was Evonne's first time seeing Michel Gondry at Largo and only my second time, but neither of us would've complained if it had been the hundredth occasion.

Jon prompted Michel to start it up, and I swear the first beat he threw out was the groove from Doves' "Compulsion"--which, in turn, always reminds me of Blondie's "Rapture." Jon accompanied him on guitar and eventually took up the vocals. They first landed on "White Lines," but Jon wisely chose not to mimic the rap, and I loved hearing "Heart of Glass," even with Jon's made-up lyrics replacing the forgotten words. By now, Jon had taken the lead, with Michel not missing a beat (no pun intended) and riding through a variety of styles before the end of the set.

But we had yet to reach the end of the night. In the Little Room, we filled the front row, taking the equivalents of tables 21 and 40 (sorry, Evonne and Daniella) on Fairfax. Jon wasted no time in asking Gillian Welch and Dave Rawlings to join him. The three of them formed something like a songwriters' circle; it could've been our proximity, but the intimacy was unmatched, and it was amazing to watch their silent communication so close up.

Gillian confessed that she'd seen less of Jon's show than she wanted, but Jon urged her to do whatever she felt like. Gill's warning of a "wicked old-timey" selection didn't deter Jon, and he accompanied them on the tragic tale.

For the most part, Gillian and David helmed this set, with Gillian assuming the duties for the first half, David for the conclusion, and Jon stepping up for one song in between. Jon's familiarity with Gillian and David's songs was evident, as he added harmonies and even offered a couple of suggestions. They also urged Jon to the piano when Largo's other favorite piano player didn't materialize. Along the same lines, it was great to hear Gillian supplying harmonies to "My Baby Left Me."

I got in a request for Robyn Hitchcock, despite David and Gillian's trepidation over the high notes. An audience member using a silly voice asked for the last song of the night, "Sweet Tooth," thus marking the end of David and Gillian's July residency. I doubt that this will be the last we see of them; I just hope they return soon.

Set 1
--piano
--Happy with You
--Over Our Heads
--new song?
--Why Do You Do This to Yourself
--Girl I Knew
--Punch Drunk theme/Here We Go
--More Than This
--Walk Out to Winter
--Autumn Leaves (?)
--It's a Wild World/Wake Me Up Before You Go Go/I'm Free/Waterloo Sunset/Wake Me Up Before You Go Go
--Lock My Heart and Throw Away the Key (?)
--Me, Myself, and I
--Shine On You Crazy Diamond
--video

encore
with Michel Gondry
--White Lines/Heart of Glass/Funkytown/Miss You

Set 2
with David Rawlings and Gillian Welch
--I'm Here to Get My Baby Out of Jail
--It's Too Easy
--Ruby
--Throw Me a Rope
--My Baby Left Me
--Luminous Rose
--30 Days
--Sweet Tooth

See also:
» i've been traveling near and far
» you don't know the meaning of the blues

when you gonna live your life right

Logic would dictate that after two back-to-back Dave Rawlings Machine shows, I should be able to cool my jets, listen to the recording of at least one of the gigs, and bask in the memories. Logic, though usually my friend, can take a hike when it comes to Largo.

Dave Rawlings Machine, Largo at the Coronet, March 31, 2009: I'm not one for regret, but I feel some pangs when it comes to certain eras at Largo. I would've loved to have seen Jon Brion and Aimee Mann when they were still playing together, and I wish I had witnessed Elliott Smith actually performing at the club and not just taking in the entertainment.

I thank my lucky stars, though, that I've been able to rack up several installments of the Dave Rawlings and Gillian Welch residency (and pre-residency) at Largo. The rumors that this would be the last Dave Rawlings Machine show in a while may or may not turn out to be true, but to borrow a sentiment from a wise man, you have to live every week like it's Shark Week.

My most recent posts may have cast Largo in a diminished light, but the evidence must speak for itself by now--there are few other places I'd rather be. I was reminded of this almost as soon as the music started, and those perfect notes hit my ears. Simply, Dave and Gillian sounded even more amazing than usual in this room. And on a more frivolous note, they looked great too, David donning what looked like a different suit and Gillian in a pretty flowered dress (albeit with the same tattered boots). If this was indeed their send-off, they were proceeding in style. They were in extremely good spirits, too, smiling and joking (about John Hartford, for starters) with the packed house.

With their two Northern California shows still very much on my mind, I wondered if they'd stick with the roadshow version of their set or encourage those patented only-at-Largo moments. As it turned out, it was a little bit of both. Clearly, they have a repertoire and a basic setlist, but that's not to say it's all rote repetition. Instead, it was just the two of them for a good stretch--eight or nine songs? Maybe more? In this opening run, they surprised me with a Guthrie-free version of "I Hear Them All" and an early stab at "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun."

Ultimately, "Sweet Tooth" smoked out their friends. Dave and Gillian could be seen sending a series of wordless signals toward the shadows until, first, Sebastian Steinberg joined them, bringing along his stand-up bass, and eventually Benmont Tench ambled on as well.

By all appearances, Dave and Gillian have taken to the Largo ethos pretty well, but their awkward transitions between guests still need some work. Then again, it is rather endearing to watch them pause, look to the side of the stage, often march over there (without removing their instruments and leaving the other musicians to kill time onstage awkwardly), then finally come back with a decision.

Tonight's soft shoe routine yielded Syd Straw, who proclaimed herself the "comic relief" as she untangled herself from her purse and jacket. Moments after she took her place, Don Heffington followed, thus filling out the '80s-era pre-alt.country juggernaut. Twenty-odd years ago, I read their names in Star Hits, but I never could've predicted that I'd see them in this company in the year 2009.

Syd shared an anecdote about walking into Benmont's living room to find Dave and Gillian there, and she gushed that she wanted to move in with them--and I'm sure she wasn't alone in that last thought. She played a song whose name escapes me; she said it was a sing-along, and it certainly had a catchy lilt to it, but it didn't sound like the audience caught on. But we didn't need to, as Dave and Gillian provided the support.

Sometimes you watch musicians play, and you suddenly realize why they do what they do (and why you do what you do). My guess is that Dave and Gillian were not familiar with this song at the outset, as they watched Syd intently to pick up on the chords and rhythm. But once those clues fell into place, they filled in the details themselves, with an embellished strum here and, more notably, some sweet, lovely harmonies elsewhere. And that is how music is made.

Syd left after one song, though Don stayed, and more guests joined, including Harper Simon for "Only Love Will Break Your Heart," Sean Watkins for "I'm On My Way Back to the Old Home," Nate Walcott, Willie Watson (for two songs whose names I can't recall), and "Z" Berg for "Blue Velvet." Dave and Gillian were especially delightful on that last one, turning in sublime harmonies in a style you wouldn't necessarily associate with them. Then again, voices like theirs transcend genres.

Jon Brion was the last guest to join in, his late appearance moving them to wonder where he'd been. He quipped that they sounded so good anyway. Naturally, Jon's participation inspired the "Method Acting"/"Cortez the Killer" medley. If my brain weren't so taxed from the last week of work, travel, and the insomnia related to both, I'd tell you what else he played on, but unfortunately, I can't fill in that info. However, I'm pretty sure I can report that the last song was "Queen Jane Approximately," ending on an awesomely grand note.

See also:
» hotter than a pepper sprout
» the high lonesome truth

the high lonesome truth

Overheard while getting in line at the Rio Theatre for night two of the Rawlings Machine: "I don't know who the other guy is. His name is Rawlings. I hear he's good." What the what?!

Dave Rawlings Machine, Rio Theatre, March 25, 2009: Puhleeze don't act surprised to find this post or force me to reiterate all the goofy measures I've taken to catch David and Gillian. Besides, I'd been to the Rio previously to see Colin Meloy--this is practically my backyard. (It's not my backyard.)

However, it was no lazy day at the beach, and I had to jump through several hoops to make it to Santa Cruz at all. I had given up on the idea of arriving early enough to nab a primo spot, so I wasn't too disheartened to see the lengthy line of fans. Hey, I can't always be in front! And though I was a little disappointed to find that the show would be seated, that wasn't too surprising either. David and Gillian aren't exactly magnets for adoring teenage fans, and as it turned out, not a single hand-crocheted scarf change hands between audience and artist this evening.

I'm not sure what I expected of this gig, but I can tell you what I ultimately got: a musical performance, pure and simple. It wasn't the David and Gillian Variety Hour at Largo, featuring a steady stream of friends, nor was the audience interaction as prominent as the night before in San Francisco. Instead, we listened as David and Gillian did what they do best, with a minimum of distractions.

In the spotlight, Dave and Gillian veritably shone on several tracks, such as their own "Throw Me a Rope," their cover of "Turn Your Radio On," and Gillian's solo banjo number "Fly On." Dave threw himself so completely into "I Hear Them All" and "Big Rock Candy Mountain" that I wondered if he'd find a way out of the solos. I suspect he took a slightly more circuitous route to the Woody Guthrie section of the former, but he eventually hit that mark.

My favorite number of the night remained "Knuckleball Catcher." For one thing, I'm a sucker for music about listening to music (see also: "Sunken Treasure," "The Lonely 1," "Radio King," to name a few), so they have me on that count, but I just love how it takes the populist conceit of folk music to its very contemporary and even empowering conclusion ("a den mother can be a dashboard drummer"). And though my description sucks, the tune itself assuredly does not.

I've come to love that song for another reason: It's funny, and it lets Dave and Gillian be funny, especially in the closing duel of "do do do"s. Certainly, they've let down their hair at Largo, usually with some prodding from Jon Brion, but this may have been the loosest and most charming I've yet seen them at their own show. They took a similar approach with "To Be Young (Is To Be Sad, Is To Be High)," trading escalating falsettos before thrashing out the song's coda. Gillian, especially, warmed up to bantering, joking about the drive from San Francisco to Santa Cruz, sharing the sights they saw on the way, and making oblique references to Magritte. Maybe it had something to do with being back in her old stomping grounds; maybe it was something in the water. (Maybe I should just shut up and enjoy it.)

For the encore, Mike McKinley joined them again for some serious bluegrass action. The "Hot Corn Cold Corn"/"He Will Set Your Field on Fire" sequence made me (1) realize how much of their influences and repertoire remains unknown to me, and (2) marvel at how they could turn on the twang so heavily and so readily after merely hinting at these abilities during the main set.

Finally, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the garrulous old Deadhead sitting next to me who delighted in their entire set--not just the Dylan, Dead, and Neil Young covers, but the Cyndi Lauper closer too. Kudos to him for keeping Santa Cruz weird.

p.s. The torrent is up!

See also:
» hear them all
» hotter than a pepper sprout
» wish you were here

hotter than a pepper sprout

Though I've been spending a lot of time at other venues lately, I sincerely love San Francisco's bona fide musical palaces. The reigning champ is the Great American Music Hall, especially when the bookers nab the likes of the Dave Rawlings Machine.

Dave Rawlings Machine, Great American Music Hall, March 24, 2009: Knowing how much San Francisco adores Gillian Welch and Dave Rawlings, I lost sleep hesitating a single day to buy tickets to this show. I actually had some weeks to spare, but as expected, the duo sold out the Great American Music Hall and inspired one of the more amusing streams of Craigslist posts of late. On offer were not the usual dubious sums of money or even vague hints of sexual favors, but rather a whole farmer's market: organic sourdough bread, sandwich toppings, and quince cardamom butter. (What, no arugula?)



I'm not one to condemn gluttony, however. I know full well that I've seen the Rawlings Machine more often than most humans could possibly need, yet I step up to it again and again. And most times, it takes a lot more effort and machinations than catching the 38 Geary.

But convenience wasn't the only thing this gig had going for it. For instance, three very understanding newbies put up with my pleas and joined me (thank you, ladies!). And of course, there was the glorious Great American itself.



It's fair to ask a serial concertgoer what a performer/artist/band could possibly bring to each venue or town that compels us to return to these relatively static shows. I'm not sure my arguments for the subtleties we eat up--the dynamic arrangements, the hypnotic harmonies, the megawatt grins--could ever convince someone else to take the plunge. Instead, I'd turn that question around; I reckon it's more enlightening to consider what each locale brings to the musicians.

In San Francisco, this meant a downright doting crowd in an informal, intimate setting, all adding up to a lively show on both sides of the stage. By the third song, "I Hear Them All," the entire room joined David and Gillian in belting out the Woody Guthrie portion. Gillian duly complimented us on our abilities (the audience's tepid jokes, however, went unremarked); she'd hear more from us before the end of the night.

I've seen the Rawlings Machine so many times in the last few months that I've probably caught most of their standard repertoire: the originals, the collaborations, and the covers they favor. Still, I heard a couple of new-to-me songs, one sung by David and one Gillian solo turn on banjo. They might be originals or traditional tracks; with these two, it's always hard to tell.

But beyond the setlist, there were plenty more treats to go around. Without Morgan Nagler, they handled "Sweet Tooth" as a duo, and Gillian added some of the sassy inflections that I had always credited to the Whispertown 2000 singer. Elsewhere, David stumbled on the lyrics of a song or two, but in this open, unpretentious setting, it was more charming than distracting.

I'll say this about the Great American as opposed to Largo: Proximity counts. More specifically, I've always dug their version of "Queen Jane Approximately," but when you're standing a few feet from Dave Rawlings and watching him move his fingers faster and more nimbly across the guitar strings than you knew was possible (an unfortunate thought that crossed my mind: Man, he'd be great at Rock Band), you finally get it: Oh my god, they've transformed the original's meandering ebb and flow into a focused, full-blown tsunami. Now that's a cover.

Largo, however, had primed me for the "Method Acting"/"Cortez the Killer" segue, which nearly made me jump out of my chair earlier this month. Readiness does not, however, detract from delight; I remained the beaming, anticipating idiot in the front row.

They filled out their encores with additional beloved covers, but since I don't write these things down, I can't tell you exactly what they played. I know "White Rabbit" made it in there, with appropriate reverb and a huge helping hand from the audience, and I think Neil Young's "Tired Eyes" slipped in as well.

For the second/final encore, they brought out Mike McKinley from Harmony Grits on mandolin for three songs. Again, I can't recall all the titles, and I'm pretty sure I can't even name one of them--an old-timey number featuring David on banjo dueling with Mike for speed-picking honors--but there was no mistaking the closer: "Jackson," which almost made me fall out of my seat in February. (I never claimed to be graceful.)



A deliberate start, with Dave and Gillian facing each other, syncing up the rhythm on their respective guitars, gave way to a burst of music as soon as they started singing, and we were right there with them. The whole room was jumping, including the performers themselves, as we sang, danced, and whooped it up. It remains, of course, Johnny and June's song, but you can't deny that David and Gillian's version holds its own as well.

See also:
» cortez, cortez
» oh me oh my oh

wish you were here

After Thursday's amazing marathon gig and a half, you might wonder how one might top such an experience. Well, you get as much or as little sleep as you can, punch the clock, then return to Largo for the Friday night delight known as Jon Brion and friends.

Jon Brion, Largo at the Coronet, March 6, 2009: After Flanny's opening words, Jon stepped onstage in a rather formal outfit: a black velvet jacket, black tuxedo pants, a white shirt, and a black bowtie. No need to adjust your set, however--the look was less Leonard Bernstein and a little closer to your favorite maitre d'. And as it turned out, the tie was a clip-on anyway. Hey, at least he changed his outfit from the night before.

The short version of this concert report: Jon (and friends) did a lot of covers I can't name. Sorry, I'm useless with those jazz standards, though I'm pretty sure Jon started with a piano improv, followed by what sounded like a Billie Holiday tune. Or maybe Duke Ellington. Or Billie Holiday singing Duke Ellington.

A string of Jon's originals followed. "Croatia" offered a nod to Dick Dale, "Same Mistakes" glided out on a hint of harpsichord, and "Meaningless" rose from a wave of Chamberlin, then closed on the celeste.

The first request of the night went to a short Todd Rundgren number, which in turn inspired Jon to trot out one of his most succinct compositions. We returned to the originals track for a while longer, first with "Love of My Life So Far" on 12-string; Jon started out fast, led it through a lovely bridge, then dialed it back for a slow, deliberate ending and a triumphant flourish. "Girl I Knew" featured a slick guitar solo and quotes from Cheap Trick and the White Stripes, I believe. The self-penned streak continued with the addition of Sebastian Steinberg on "Please Stay Away from Me."

Sebastian alluded to Thursday's festivities, admitting that some of the artists had even later nights than the audience. But Sebastian more than held up his end, eliciting some sweet words from Jon himself. They polished off "Don't Get Around Much Anymore," highlighted by Jon's celeste solo.

Jon picked up an acoustic guitar and joined Sebastian around the omnidirectional mic for an instrumental that may or may not have been a jazzy version of "I'm in the Mood for Love"--or something else. Sean Watkins shored up their ranks for another wordless tune; my guess is "Ain't Misbehavin'" (or not).

Fortunately, they finally hit on some titles I know, such as Jon's "Trouble," a song that Sean has often covered with Nickel Creek and for the Watkins Family Hour. Jon's tone was wistful, the piano veritably surged, and Sean contributed harmonies as well as some charming guitar details.

Déjà vu: Jon asked Gillian Welch to step up, and after conferring on their song selection, she urged David Rawlings to hop on. This is no slight on Gillian or David, but of all the people onstage, they most prominently bore the signs of a late night. Gillian wore eyeglasses, a hat, and no makeup; David simply looked like he had just rolled out of bed. And to tell you the truth, their sound tonight was less than polished too--no detriment at Largo.

Gillian had initially offered to sing a song she had never done before or one that she had; Jon left the decision to her, and I'm guessing we got the former. As far as I know, I haven't seen "Pale Blue Eyes" on any of her setlists, especially not one with Dave volunteering to man the vibes. Though they're clearly not his instrument of choice, Dave carried it off well, underscoring the song's otherworldly feel. Add Jon and Dave's backing vocals, and you kinda had a slice of heaven.

They shuffled the lineup so that Gillian could take the drums (so as not to waste her "drumming skirt") and David could grab a guitar. Neil Young provided the springboard for the first couple of songs, then they huddled for some ideas.

I'm nothing if not a deliberate requester. Oh sure, I throw out the long-shot suggestions every now and then, usually with no success, but a lot of times, I think about the songs I know they can do but haven't aired for a while. Tonight, I got the chance to call out a title I hadn't heard them tackle since that amazing night three years ago: "Stop Draggin' My Heart Around." After confirming that Benmont wasn't around, they ripped into the duet. High five!

On the heels of the Tom Petty number, they jammed their way to an unlikely follow-up: "The Sounds of Silence." Judging by the wide-eyed look of recognition on Gillian's face, it was as much a surprise to them as it was to us. Though Jon nominally assumed the lead, Dave swung between Jon and Gillian, and it was very much a collaborative effort, with all three singing and filling in the lyrics when the others forgot. Maybe it was the song, or maybe it was the delivery, but it felt bracingly intimate, even in the big room.

The guests vacated the stage (momentarily) for Jon's finale. He asked for requests, but waited out most of them. Finally, he went with a James Bond medley, comprising the themes for Goldfinger, The Spy Who Loved Me, and Live and Let Die, according to my notes.

For the encore, Jon asked for more requests, despite the dubious success of the last open call. As it happpened, we were trumped by one of the guests. From what I could tell, Jon reacted to a shout-out from Dave Rawlings and proceeded to build the song. He asked for the longest delay possible from the soundbooth; set the foundation of drums, synthesizers, and guitar; and turned on the planetarium projection, all in the run-up to Pink Floyd's "Comfortably Numb." A verse or two in, Gillian Welch snuck onstage to help with the vocals, and behind her, Sebastian and Dave eased in on bass and drums, respectively.

The musical chairs continued. Dave ditched the drums for guitar and vocals, as all three of them came together for the song's signature scream before Gillian returned to the drums. Jon, meanwhile, could be seen kneeling at one of the mics, as he fed the lyrics to Dave and Gillian. The epic drifted to another Pink Floyd title, with Dave and Jon sharing vocals on "Wish You Were Here." My thoughts exactly.

Setlist
--piano
--instrumental
--Croatia
--It Looks Like You
--Same Mistakes
--celeste
--Meaningless
--Remember Me
--Stop the World
--Love of My Life So Far
--Girl I Knew

with Sebastian Steinberg
--Please Stay Away From Me
--Don't Get Around Much Anymore
--instrumental

with Sebastian Steinberg and Sean Watkins
--instrumental
--Trouble

with David Rawlings, Sebastian Steinberg, Sean Watkins, and Gillian Welch
--Pale Blue Eyes [vocals = Gillian]
--Don't Let It Bring You Down [vocals = David]
--Ohio [vocals = David]

with David Rawlings, Sebastian Steinberg, and Gillian Welch
--Stop Draggin My Heart Around [vocals = Gillian and David]
--The Sound of Silence [vocals = Gillian, David, and Jon]

--James Bond medley

encore
--Comfortably Numb/Wish You Were Here [vocals = Gillian, David, and Jon]

See also:
» cortez, cortez
» Gillian, David, Sean, Sara, Jon, Greg

cortez, cortez

I admit I went a little overboard with the Largo excursions in December and January--the center could not hold. Reality returned (somewhat) in February, and I'll likely have to stick to these self-imposed limits for the foreseeable future. On the bright side, what I lose in quantity, I gain in quality, thanks to the continuing string of Rawlings Machine shows.

Dave Rawlings Machine, Largo at the Coronet, March 5, 2009: My manias are not a mystery--those tag clouds on the right of the page have me pegged. But in case you haven't noticed, it's happening again: Intrigue is turning into infatuation. I'm talking, of course, about the Rawlings Machine. They sure make it easy to decide which weekends I should fly down (and double my disgruntlement when I can't be there).

Despite their mild protests about the lack of preparation and problems with pacing, Dave and Gillian took to the stage with an evident ease and an uptick in confidence compared to their early shows at Largo. They fell short of a swagger, and I doubt that Dave and Gillian will ever be able to take their act to Vegas--or Branson, Missouri, for that matter--but actually, that's not a bad thing.

They handled the first five songs of the show by themselves. I took it as a good sign the look of surprise that flitted across Gillian's face on their second track; she later explained that she didn't expect it so early in the set, and it confirms for me that they haven't fallen into rote recitation.

To these ears, the highlight of this section was "Knuckleball Catcher." Though I've heard this song at each of their performances, there was something about the fierce arrangement and their peerless harmonizing that leapt out at me this time. The sly rhymes of that last verse ("some hard liquor can make a guitar picker out of you"), especially, has been on my brain for days; nor does it hurt that the intro reminds me a little of their version of "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun."

From there, the guest appearances commenced. The first musician plucked from the sidelines--not quite literally, though Dave did march over to the curtains, still bearing his guitar, and pointed at the performer in question--was a true legend: John Paul Jones. I've seen him only once before, but you could hazard a guess that his ties to Largo have further deepened in the last year. Not only has he produced Sara Watkins' solo album, he's previously played with Gillian and Dave as well. This familiarity showed; looking pretty relaxed himself, John Paul Jones contributed mandolin and harmonies to "I Hear Them All," to David and Gillian's delight, and stuck around for more.

I didn't take notes this time, so the details start to blur, but I recall that Sara and Sean Watkins, as well as Sebastian Steinberg and Benmont Tench, piled in for a number of songs, mostly traditional numbers that Gillian later explained qualified as the dance music of its day. And though they had their own gig scheduled for the Little Room that night, Sara and Sean seemed reluctant to leave. In fact, we spied the duo watching from the shadows later in the set, though their own show should've been under way by then.

It's obvious to me that Largo has opened up Dave and Gillian as performers, but the duo has, in turn, opened up Largo to a new set of artists--especially on the younger, hipper end of the spectrum. Tonight, that meant we saw "Z" Berg from the Like, Morgan Nagler with her signature tune, and--drum roll, please--Jenny Lewis, returning for another short spin. This time, she sang "Silver Lining" from the last Rilo Kiley album, but from our seats, we could see that she stuck around for the rest of the set, dancing and just plain enjoying the festivities.

Following Jenny's turn, my wish came true about halfway through "Ruby," when Jon Brion sauntered over and fell right in to the swing of things. Dave and Gillian have been dropping in on Jon's set for a good few months now, so I was happy to see him return the favor on the big stage.

Dave and Gillian remained, by default, the leaders, but only nominally, urging Benmont, Jon, and John Paul Jones to work their magic as well. They peaked with a phenomenal segue from Bright Eyes to "Cortez the Killer"; it hits me between the eyes every time.

Even "White Rabbit" couldn't top that; I blame the lack of reverb, despite Gillian and Dave's request for more. Still, I loved watching Benmont and Jon add their low-tech effects to the tune (Benmont, plucking at the piano strings; Jon going for a doppler-type effect with the guitar and mic). And the fact that Gillian forgot some of the lyrics was more charming than distracting as well. Closing out the set, Gillian ran to fetch a lyric sheet before they brought out Z Berg again for an a cappella selection, gathered around the omnidirectional mic.

But the night wasn't over! Gillian herself had announced from the stage their plans to infiltrate Sean and Sara's show in the Little Room. We took her up on that hot tip--and were treated to another hour-plus of music with most of the same personnel from the big room, minus the East Siders.

Sara somewhat apologized for the disorganized air; she explained that they were so used to rehearsing with each other that they didn't really know how to switch gears in front of people. I hope she realizes that's exactly what we love about these gigs; it's the closest we get to being flies on the wall, taking in our favorite artists.

I barely know what they played, partly because I didn't take any notes and partly because their traditional selections frequently escape me. However, I caught Sara and Sean's more contemporary covers ("No Surprises," "The More You Ignore Me, the Closer I Get," "Pink Triangle"), as well as Benmont's comedy screeches on "Why Don't We Do It in the Road," and even I recognized Dylan's "Forever Young."

I feel like the boy who cried wolf; after naming "Cortez the Killer" and "Knuckleball Catcher" as two high points of the evening, I'm going to cite one more event. Toward the end of the show, the musicians decided to treat us (and, most likely, themselves) with "the greatest song ever," only no one knew the crucial "recitation." However, someone's iPhone was co-opted (amid several jokes about Flanny busting them for it), and Sean Watkins set about tracking down this mysterious track. Modern technology, being what it is, was less than cooperative at first, so to help pass the time, Dave and Gillian performed a little do-si-do on the tiny stage, already packed with five other people. Finally, Sean wrangled the lines and offered himself as the human teleprompter for Joe Tex's "Hold What You Got," featuring a couple of hearty soliloquys by David and Gillian. Extra points also go to David for his thespian flair.

See also:
» you got a lotta nerve
» hear them all

oh me oh my oh

Often I could use a concert, but there are times when I need a gig. David Rawlings and Gillian Welch could've chased my week's worth of exasperation away on a comb and a kazoo, but to no one's surprise, they far surpassed those expectations.

Dave Rawlings Machine, Largo at the Coronet, February 5, 2009: Now that David Rawlings and Gillian Welch have established an intermittent residency at Largo, I'm less anxious about missing opportunities to see them. For example, I managed to limit my twitching to a mere hour or so last week when I knew they were scheduled for a late show in the Little Room.

I'll need to amp up those reminders that I've seen David and Gillian plenty and that there's a decent amount of repeats in their shows--because their gig tonight immediately forced me to eat my words. In the first half-dozen songs, we got maybe four perennials before the show settled into a set favoring less familiar tracks from their deep repertoire. Thanks a lot, guys!

But ultimately, I'm a glass-half-full girl, and I realize the fluidity of their sets is a sign that they're finding their bearings and growing ever more confident at Largo. Not only that, they're also extending the umbrella to a passel of new faces we might not have otherwise seen at the Coronet, while simultaneously retaining the support of many Largo regulars. I believe that, once upon a time, this was how musicians grew their reputation and their talent. Have you heard of such a thing?

Among these newer colleagues was trumpeter Nate Walcott, enlisted for a song that was technically off limits for the Rawlings Machine: "My Morphine," featuring Gillian on vocals. The trumpet's tones took to this ode to opium immediately; I think Chet Baker would've approved.

Nate stayed for much of the rest of the set, and soon after, Morgan Nagler came on for "Sweet Tooth," as she has for all the Rawlings Machine shows at Largo. However, her role expanded as well. For starters, the rest of the gang--Don Heffington, Sebastian Steinberg, and Benmont Tench--ambled on to back her for Whispertown2000's "Time Will Welcome Anything."

Their next move was less seamless, as they worked out what song to take on (Benmont was especially resolute in his recommendation) and brought out another guest: Mike Campbell, aka Benmont's bandmate and fellow Heartbreaker--as in "Tom Petty and the." Benmont's insistence proved fruitful--and well-founded--as Morgan warbled "Brand New Key," the '70s hit. It was an inspired choice, and Morgan hit it out of the park.

Morgan exited the stage, but nearly everyone else remained, leaving Mike Campbell as the rookie of this group. He wore that game yet reserved look often seen on Largo newbies, no matter what their actual talents, and slowly eased in, whipping up solos on the acoustic guitar, whether or not he originally knew the tune. He didn't exactly appear anxious to relive the experience, but it was a good start.

Benmont prodded them into "Deep River Blues" while Gillian was tuning her guitar for her other number of the night--"Look at Miss Ohio," the duo's hit single. After we caught our breath on the heels of that masterpiece, the main set roared to a close, in the form of "Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat" and what I'd wanted to request all night, "Jackson."

My rote cataloging doesn't do the performance any justice, though. Days later, I can't stop thinking about "Look at Miss Ohio" and "Jackson." Clearly, they both have their charms--the former, its exquisite narrative; the latter, its instant lift--but in the context of this show, I'm still in awe of the very different ways they brought out David and Gillian's voices.

For instance, there were points in "Look at Miss Ohio" where I couldn't get over how beautifully their vocals melded--and how many bombshells hide in plain sight among those lyrics. Does it even qualify as harmony when two singers are so perfectly matched?

"Jackson," of course, is not known for its subtlety; then again, that's exactly its appeal. I just loved the hootin', the hollerin', the back and forth, and the un-folk-like moves it elicited from the duo: Gillian's little fanning motion and David's rock-and-roll hop. Hotter than a pepper sprout, indeed.

They once more concluded with "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun," a sure crowd-pleaser, even if David forgot a verse (which Gillian immediately forced him to redo). If I may be so bold, I'd like to offer one suggestion: They should bring out Morgan for this tune. It's not so far removed from "Brand New Key," give or take a decade.

See also:
» hear them all
» Gillian, David, Sean, Sara, Jon, Greg
» used to be one of the rotten ones
» that's all they really want