Last week, I slid down the YouTube rabbit hole, entranced by an old performance video of Aimee Mann on Jon Stewart's old MTV talk show. Not coincidentally, Jon Brion was in her touring band at the time. I think I watched the video a couple of dozen times in a row, and the song is still in my head. It also moved me to do something about the hours and hours of videos in my archives.
This may or may not surprise you, but I'm a bit of a collector. I once religiously taped (on VHS!) talk shows and music programs for appearances by my favorite artists. Even scarier, I cataloged them to a good extent. (Multiply that by 10, and you'll get an idea of my former bootleg collection.)
I eventually downsized and got rid of all the videotapes, though not before transferring the better segments to DVD. Fast-forward several years, and I finally figured out how to rip the clips and upload them to YouTube. Yay technology! And um, why did it take so long?!
So in lieu of a concert report and to assuage my Largo longings, I'll share three of the choicest recordings with you. Most of my clips are already on YouTube, but I found three worth checking out. Actually, I think two of them have been available (if somewhat buried in search results) for a while, but the first one may be a bona fide rarity. Enjoy! And please feel free to share them with other fans. They deserve to be seen!
Jon Brion, The Late Late Show, "Knock Yourself Out" (Oct. 29, 2004)
Grant-Lee Phillips & Jon Brion, Real Time with Bill Maher, "See America" (March 21, 2003)
Rhett Miller & Jon Brion, Late World with Zach, "Things That Disappear" (May 1, 2002)
See also:
» i'm happy, hope you're happy too
» the heart of rock 'n' roll is still beating
» tell it to the radio
Showing posts with label rhettmiller. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rhettmiller. Show all posts
Monday, February 24, 2014
Sunday, May 12, 2013
i was a new york doll
Boy, I've been seeing a lot of veterans lately, haven't I? But maybe I'm a veteran at this point too. If celebrating the occasion of Robyn Hitchcock's 60th birthday at the Fillmore puts me in the oldster category, so be it. I wasn't about to miss this show for anything.
Viva Hitchcock! A 60th Birthday Celebration for Robyn Hitchcock, the Fillmore, May 2, 2013: I confess my expectations of special guests and one-off events at concerts have grown unreasonably. I kind of want them to happen all the time, in no small part due to decade-plus of star-studded (?) spectacles in Southern California. I try to tamp down the anticipation, but it helps when all the cards on the table and the guest list is known, long before the show is scheduled. At that point, all you have to do is sit back and enjoy, as a cavalcade of guests feted Robyn Hitchcock, on the occasion of his 60th birthday (albeit six months on).
Before a single musician played a note, Daniel Handler set the stage with an intro for the show. As it happened, he wouldn't be the only writer we'd see tonight; Neil Gaiman briefly joined him at the mic to introduce Amanda Palmer's portion of the show. Also, I could swear I saw Michael Chabon up in guest box, but then again, there were a lot of bespectacled, bookish-looking, middle-aged men all over the premises, so I could be wrong.
But back to Daniel Handler, aka Lemony Snicket -- I believe he was the one who noted that most of the artists we'd see tonight were from the Pacific Northwest. By no coincidence, Colin Meloy was the main mover behind the scenes, so of course there'd be a regional bias. Lucky for us, that part of the world is pretty good for, well, almost everything these days. I'm just thankful they decided to do it at the Fillmore instead of another part of the world. Then again, why would you want to do this anywhere else, given the choice?
Among the first musicians to plug in were John Moen (Decemberists), Dave Depper, Andy Cabic (Vetiver) -- and Peter Buck (er, REM, though I think Daniel Handler reminded us that he's currently unemployed). As you might guess, Peter Buck got a lot of attention, but his contributions and presence were fairly subtle, if you can call gorgeous, rippling chords from those big, beautiful Gibsons and Rickenbackers "subtle." Overall, he stayed in the background, even as the crowd cheered on his every appearance.
Peter, Dave, and John would act as the house band for much of the night, backing each new ensemble for their portion of the show and their selections from Robyn's catalog -- in most cases, going into deep album cuts. Sean Nelson (ex-Harvey Danger) had joined this first assemblage, but he returned with his wife for the second segment of his show. Sean got in one of the better lines of the night, as he called out our likely common affliction: Anglophilia. Nailed it!
Eric Johnson of the Fruit Bats was the first musician of the evening that I count among my favorites, and it was probably my familiarity with his music that it hit me: These artists were really personalizing Robyn's tunes.
This also brings up a confession: I'm not particularly up on Robyn's songs, despite having seen him in concert at least a couple of dozen times by now and even being a cognizant music fan when he hit the scene. Back then, his tunes weren't particularly pop-friendly to my teenage ears. I'm gonna say it -- he was probably a little too weird and not as photogenic as I preferred. Also, as I later discovered, he had that whole Dylan thing going on, which I still haven't really warmed to, truth be told. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen Robyn as a strictly solo act; more often than not, I've caught him as part of a Largo conclave, where it seems like everything but an artist's original tracks are on the menu.
Over to Eric: He covered "Trams of Old London," which I actually recognized! But just as identifiable was the jangly, acoustic spin he put on the tune. His typically rich vocals didn't hurt either. It's worth repeating: He has one of my favorite voices among musicians today. In Eric's hands, the songs sounded like Fruit Bats tunes.
The Young Fresh Fellows were on next, turning the volume all the way up to 11 and kicking up the tempo. You have to wonder if it's ever smart to name your act "Young," because these guys were not. Then again, what 20-something thinks they'll ever get old? Or that their band will persist long enough for the name to matter. And that aforementioned point about the Fruit Bats putting their stamp on Robyn's titles? It went double for the Young Fresh Fellows.
I'm a little more familiar with Rhett Miller's association with Robyn Hitchcock, so it came as little surprise that he'd share his fandom so giddily or that he'd go with "Cynthia Mask," which the Old 97s recorded a while back. But who knew he'd get "Balloon Man," perhaps Robyn's only certified U.S. (alternative?) radio hit? And yup, you guessed it -- Rhett put a little bit of Texas in the quintessentially British works.
This was the point when Neil Gaiman joined the performers, though he didn't say a word as Daniel Handler directed our attention to one of the upstairs boxes. A barbershop quintet, known as the Hitchcockblockers, had assembled for an a cappella rendition of "Uncorrected Personality Traits."
One of the Hitchcockblockers, Amanda Palmer, came downstairs for the next segment, accompanied by the birthday boy himself. In fact, this was the first time we'd seen him all night, but thankfully, it wouldn't be the last. I'm not entirely up on the Amanda Palmer saga, but I guess her fellow musicians haven't shut her out. Free speech? Solidarity? Your guess is as good as mine (that is: not good at all).
The instigator Colin Meloy came up next, after an awesome intro by Daniel Handler that I wish I could repeat verbatim because it was so good. All I can recall is that he mentioned Irish folk songs and Civil War reenactments. Like the rest of the crew, Colin took his allotted portion of three songs -- but dammit, if the titles alone couldn't have been ripped out of a Decemberists setlist. Colin sounded like Colin, but he may have shared the most direct connection to Robyn, with their taste in subject matter, wordplay, and folksiness. In case you had been wondering why Colin of all people had assembled this show, he put those question to rest with his performance.
I've skimmed over Daniel Handler's input because it's impossible to repeat his words without mangling them in my own illiteracy. But he created another highlight when he donned an accordion and sang "Gene Hackman" for us. Do I agree with the song's sentiment? No, but I highly approve of Mr. Lemony Snicket putting a sorrowful, Old World slant on it.
Finally, it was time for Robyn himself, partly solo, partly with the Venus 3, and partly in a mob, but first he shared the stage with Sean Nelson for a couple of tunes, including the always charming "I Feel Beautiful," even if I missed you-know-who's marxophone solo. According to Robyn, the Venus 3 was more like the Venus 4.5, but he may have been the only one counting. I'm way into this phase of Robyn's career and was happy to hear the tunes from the last couple of records. They brought back Colin for "Madonna of the Wasps," though he looked a little unsure of his role. I, for one, was happy to see him there.
The encore turned out to be a big party, as everyone returned for an a cappella "Furry Green Atom Bowl" and the musician's urging us to join in with handclaps. Many of the musicians themselves were working from lyrics sheets; I guess you can't really rehearse that kind of thing. The penultimate song, "Listen to the Higsons," moved Peter Buck and Colin Meloy to the drum sets, which is the kind of musical chairs I love.
The audience coaxed Robyn out for a final song, but it only worked once. Though we were still buzzing for more from the all-stars, Daniel Handler capped the evening as he began, with the final send-off. We managed to squeeze in one final round of "Happy Birthday" for the man himself. It was the least we could do.
Setlist
See also:
» i'm happy, hope you're happy too
» she couldn't dance but she wanted to
» my starter won't start
» it took almost seven hours to sing
» i've written pages upon pages
» time is round and space is curved
Viva Hitchcock! A 60th Birthday Celebration for Robyn Hitchcock, the Fillmore, May 2, 2013: I confess my expectations of special guests and one-off events at concerts have grown unreasonably. I kind of want them to happen all the time, in no small part due to decade-plus of star-studded (?) spectacles in Southern California. I try to tamp down the anticipation, but it helps when all the cards on the table and the guest list is known, long before the show is scheduled. At that point, all you have to do is sit back and enjoy, as a cavalcade of guests feted Robyn Hitchcock, on the occasion of his 60th birthday (albeit six months on).
Before a single musician played a note, Daniel Handler set the stage with an intro for the show. As it happened, he wouldn't be the only writer we'd see tonight; Neil Gaiman briefly joined him at the mic to introduce Amanda Palmer's portion of the show. Also, I could swear I saw Michael Chabon up in guest box, but then again, there were a lot of bespectacled, bookish-looking, middle-aged men all over the premises, so I could be wrong.But back to Daniel Handler, aka Lemony Snicket -- I believe he was the one who noted that most of the artists we'd see tonight were from the Pacific Northwest. By no coincidence, Colin Meloy was the main mover behind the scenes, so of course there'd be a regional bias. Lucky for us, that part of the world is pretty good for, well, almost everything these days. I'm just thankful they decided to do it at the Fillmore instead of another part of the world. Then again, why would you want to do this anywhere else, given the choice?
Among the first musicians to plug in were John Moen (Decemberists), Dave Depper, Andy Cabic (Vetiver) -- and Peter Buck (er, REM, though I think Daniel Handler reminded us that he's currently unemployed). As you might guess, Peter Buck got a lot of attention, but his contributions and presence were fairly subtle, if you can call gorgeous, rippling chords from those big, beautiful Gibsons and Rickenbackers "subtle." Overall, he stayed in the background, even as the crowd cheered on his every appearance.
Peter, Dave, and John would act as the house band for much of the night, backing each new ensemble for their portion of the show and their selections from Robyn's catalog -- in most cases, going into deep album cuts. Sean Nelson (ex-Harvey Danger) had joined this first assemblage, but he returned with his wife for the second segment of his show. Sean got in one of the better lines of the night, as he called out our likely common affliction: Anglophilia. Nailed it!
Eric Johnson of the Fruit Bats was the first musician of the evening that I count among my favorites, and it was probably my familiarity with his music that it hit me: These artists were really personalizing Robyn's tunes.
This also brings up a confession: I'm not particularly up on Robyn's songs, despite having seen him in concert at least a couple of dozen times by now and even being a cognizant music fan when he hit the scene. Back then, his tunes weren't particularly pop-friendly to my teenage ears. I'm gonna say it -- he was probably a little too weird and not as photogenic as I preferred. Also, as I later discovered, he had that whole Dylan thing going on, which I still haven't really warmed to, truth be told. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen Robyn as a strictly solo act; more often than not, I've caught him as part of a Largo conclave, where it seems like everything but an artist's original tracks are on the menu.
Over to Eric: He covered "Trams of Old London," which I actually recognized! But just as identifiable was the jangly, acoustic spin he put on the tune. His typically rich vocals didn't hurt either. It's worth repeating: He has one of my favorite voices among musicians today. In Eric's hands, the songs sounded like Fruit Bats tunes.
The Young Fresh Fellows were on next, turning the volume all the way up to 11 and kicking up the tempo. You have to wonder if it's ever smart to name your act "Young," because these guys were not. Then again, what 20-something thinks they'll ever get old? Or that their band will persist long enough for the name to matter. And that aforementioned point about the Fruit Bats putting their stamp on Robyn's titles? It went double for the Young Fresh Fellows.
I'm a little more familiar with Rhett Miller's association with Robyn Hitchcock, so it came as little surprise that he'd share his fandom so giddily or that he'd go with "Cynthia Mask," which the Old 97s recorded a while back. But who knew he'd get "Balloon Man," perhaps Robyn's only certified U.S. (alternative?) radio hit? And yup, you guessed it -- Rhett put a little bit of Texas in the quintessentially British works.
This was the point when Neil Gaiman joined the performers, though he didn't say a word as Daniel Handler directed our attention to one of the upstairs boxes. A barbershop quintet, known as the Hitchcockblockers, had assembled for an a cappella rendition of "Uncorrected Personality Traits."
One of the Hitchcockblockers, Amanda Palmer, came downstairs for the next segment, accompanied by the birthday boy himself. In fact, this was the first time we'd seen him all night, but thankfully, it wouldn't be the last. I'm not entirely up on the Amanda Palmer saga, but I guess her fellow musicians haven't shut her out. Free speech? Solidarity? Your guess is as good as mine (that is: not good at all).
The instigator Colin Meloy came up next, after an awesome intro by Daniel Handler that I wish I could repeat verbatim because it was so good. All I can recall is that he mentioned Irish folk songs and Civil War reenactments. Like the rest of the crew, Colin took his allotted portion of three songs -- but dammit, if the titles alone couldn't have been ripped out of a Decemberists setlist. Colin sounded like Colin, but he may have shared the most direct connection to Robyn, with their taste in subject matter, wordplay, and folksiness. In case you had been wondering why Colin of all people had assembled this show, he put those question to rest with his performance.
I've skimmed over Daniel Handler's input because it's impossible to repeat his words without mangling them in my own illiteracy. But he created another highlight when he donned an accordion and sang "Gene Hackman" for us. Do I agree with the song's sentiment? No, but I highly approve of Mr. Lemony Snicket putting a sorrowful, Old World slant on it.
Finally, it was time for Robyn himself, partly solo, partly with the Venus 3, and partly in a mob, but first he shared the stage with Sean Nelson for a couple of tunes, including the always charming "I Feel Beautiful," even if I missed you-know-who's marxophone solo. According to Robyn, the Venus 3 was more like the Venus 4.5, but he may have been the only one counting. I'm way into this phase of Robyn's career and was happy to hear the tunes from the last couple of records. They brought back Colin for "Madonna of the Wasps," though he looked a little unsure of his role. I, for one, was happy to see him there.
The encore turned out to be a big party, as everyone returned for an a cappella "Furry Green Atom Bowl" and the musician's urging us to join in with handclaps. Many of the musicians themselves were working from lyrics sheets; I guess you can't really rehearse that kind of thing. The penultimate song, "Listen to the Higsons," moved Peter Buck and Colin Meloy to the drum sets, which is the kind of musical chairs I love.
The audience coaxed Robyn out for a final song, but it only worked once. Though we were still buzzing for more from the all-stars, Daniel Handler capped the evening as he began, with the final send-off. We managed to squeeze in one final round of "Happy Birthday" for the man himself. It was the least we could do.
Setlist
See also:
» i'm happy, hope you're happy too
» she couldn't dance but she wanted to
» my starter won't start
» it took almost seven hours to sing
» i've written pages upon pages
» time is round and space is curved
Thursday, May 12, 2011
come around
Note: This post went up last week but was apparently eaten by the Blogger outage. Let's try this again.
First off, thanks to Julie for the extra ticket, even if it came about due to her lack of oversight. I appreciate the night out and the opportunity to check out a marathon performance by the eternally charming Rhett Miller at the Swedish American Hall.
Rhett Miller, Swedish Music Hall, May 7, 2011: Here's a scene that plays out at every concert you'll ever attend: You're waiting around -- maybe for doors to open, maybe for the bouncer to check IDs, or maybe for a beer -- and you overhear a fellow gig-goer bragging about how many shows they've seen by certain bands or musicians. Invariably, that massive number adds up to, say, three or four different appearances by the artist in question. I'm not typically impressed by the tally.
Granted, I'm the last person who should pass judgement on another person's concert choices. I admit it -- while I was queuing up, sweating over on-sale dates, plotting itineraries, and basically killing myself in anticipation of a 90-minute set by musicians I've probably seen a million times before, other people were probably leading full, multidimensional lives. Also, considering the current state of the music industry, repeat customers are highly desirable, so anyone who comes back more than once is worth pursuing.
Anyway, I'm going to be that guy -- er, gal. According to my records, this is the third time I've seen Rhett in concert, though that number seems awfully skimpy and doesn't include any Old 97s gatherings; I must've hit those gigs before I started this blog. In the case of Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, I was present for their set, but it didn't warrant a whole entry.
However, I can claim an out-of-town date and even a rare configuration, neither of which should be held up as any sort of achievement. Rhett and the Old 97s have an ardent and long-standing fan base; in fact, I count a few of the faithful among my good friends. They can rattle off stats and song titles much more readily than I can. Despite this deficit, I have to say that this may be the best gig I've seen from Rhett yet.
Many factors led to this proclamation, but I have to start with the sheer number of songs Rhett pulled off. I didn't keep a setlist, and I can't tell you how long the gig ran, though I'd place it in the neighborhood of two hours. In a rock show, two hours is nothing to sneeze at, but in the solo setting, when Rhett is banging out the tunes at a scorching pace, the titles pile up.
Rhett may or may not have brought along a setlist, but he seemed to veer from it several times to follow lines of memory or to expand on themes. One of the motifs he came back to was a fixation on disasters; for example, "Just Like California" led to "Buick City Complex." In at least one instance, an audience request appeared to inspire an instant song selection ("Terrible Vision"), and Rhett credited Twitter with another choice for the night ("Meteor Shower"), though he needed a lyric sheet to carry off the latter. For the life of me, I can't remember what moved him to go with "Making Love to You," but I recall he provided a charming intro.
Speaking of charm, Rhett was in full Storytellers mode; maybe this isn't so surprising to Rhett's regulars, but I can't say I've seen such a display from him before. Between the barrage of songs, he managed to work in tales of the Sharon Osbourne talk show, his dating life with UCSC Banana Slugs, and his debt to Steve Miller. He also oohed and aahed over the vintage-looking room, gushing over the gorgeous wood detail and dark varnish -- then broke into "Nightclub" and distanced himself from any notions of burning down the room.
I've heard from at least one person displeased with Rhett's solo career, especially the debut album. I happen to love that record for obvious reasons, but after tonight's performance, I finally understood what could've inspired those complaints. I'm a pop girl at heart, so the bountiful harmonies and catchy arrangements on The Instigator are completely up my alley. However, after hearing the rawer elements of Rhett's songwriting, I admit the shift would be off-putting if I'd previously been listening to the Old 97s' patented ruckus. It's a good thing we don't have to choose these days, as both Rhett and the Old 97s are actively touring and recording. With any luck, I'll yet make it to that fifth gig!
See also:
» this is what i do
» tell it to the radio
» it took almost seven hours to sing
First off, thanks to Julie for the extra ticket, even if it came about due to her lack of oversight. I appreciate the night out and the opportunity to check out a marathon performance by the eternally charming Rhett Miller at the Swedish American Hall.
Rhett Miller, Swedish Music Hall, May 7, 2011: Here's a scene that plays out at every concert you'll ever attend: You're waiting around -- maybe for doors to open, maybe for the bouncer to check IDs, or maybe for a beer -- and you overhear a fellow gig-goer bragging about how many shows they've seen by certain bands or musicians. Invariably, that massive number adds up to, say, three or four different appearances by the artist in question. I'm not typically impressed by the tally.
Granted, I'm the last person who should pass judgement on another person's concert choices. I admit it -- while I was queuing up, sweating over on-sale dates, plotting itineraries, and basically killing myself in anticipation of a 90-minute set by musicians I've probably seen a million times before, other people were probably leading full, multidimensional lives. Also, considering the current state of the music industry, repeat customers are highly desirable, so anyone who comes back more than once is worth pursuing.
Anyway, I'm going to be that guy -- er, gal. According to my records, this is the third time I've seen Rhett in concert, though that number seems awfully skimpy and doesn't include any Old 97s gatherings; I must've hit those gigs before I started this blog. In the case of Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, I was present for their set, but it didn't warrant a whole entry.
However, I can claim an out-of-town date and even a rare configuration, neither of which should be held up as any sort of achievement. Rhett and the Old 97s have an ardent and long-standing fan base; in fact, I count a few of the faithful among my good friends. They can rattle off stats and song titles much more readily than I can. Despite this deficit, I have to say that this may be the best gig I've seen from Rhett yet.
Many factors led to this proclamation, but I have to start with the sheer number of songs Rhett pulled off. I didn't keep a setlist, and I can't tell you how long the gig ran, though I'd place it in the neighborhood of two hours. In a rock show, two hours is nothing to sneeze at, but in the solo setting, when Rhett is banging out the tunes at a scorching pace, the titles pile up.Rhett may or may not have brought along a setlist, but he seemed to veer from it several times to follow lines of memory or to expand on themes. One of the motifs he came back to was a fixation on disasters; for example, "Just Like California" led to "Buick City Complex." In at least one instance, an audience request appeared to inspire an instant song selection ("Terrible Vision"), and Rhett credited Twitter with another choice for the night ("Meteor Shower"), though he needed a lyric sheet to carry off the latter. For the life of me, I can't remember what moved him to go with "Making Love to You," but I recall he provided a charming intro.
Speaking of charm, Rhett was in full Storytellers mode; maybe this isn't so surprising to Rhett's regulars, but I can't say I've seen such a display from him before. Between the barrage of songs, he managed to work in tales of the Sharon Osbourne talk show, his dating life with UCSC Banana Slugs, and his debt to Steve Miller. He also oohed and aahed over the vintage-looking room, gushing over the gorgeous wood detail and dark varnish -- then broke into "Nightclub" and distanced himself from any notions of burning down the room.I've heard from at least one person displeased with Rhett's solo career, especially the debut album. I happen to love that record for obvious reasons, but after tonight's performance, I finally understood what could've inspired those complaints. I'm a pop girl at heart, so the bountiful harmonies and catchy arrangements on The Instigator are completely up my alley. However, after hearing the rawer elements of Rhett's songwriting, I admit the shift would be off-putting if I'd previously been listening to the Old 97s' patented ruckus. It's a good thing we don't have to choose these days, as both Rhett and the Old 97s are actively touring and recording. With any luck, I'll yet make it to that fifth gig!
See also:
» this is what i do
» tell it to the radio
» it took almost seven hours to sing
Friday, November 28, 2008
it took almost seven hours to sing
I could easily spend two weekends of any given month settled in at Largo, but alas, rent must be paid, plants must be watered, and so on. It always helps, though, when mob rule (i.e., at least one other person) helps dictate these rock tourism decisions.
Rhett Miller, Largo at the Coronet, November 22, 2008: I have an unofficial roster of people I want to see at Largo, work, time, and finances permitting. Rhett Miller has been on that list for while, and finally, events conspired to bring me to one of his shows in Los Angeles.
Pre-Coronet, Rhett took Largo's move harder than many of the artists associated with the club, so there was some question as to how he'd react to the new space. I'd say the outlook is good, as he reminded us that the same people who made it all possible were still steering the ship. Obviously, I've thrown my faith in with this lot for some time now, but it was nice to get the seal of approval from someone on the other side of the stage. Clearly, we did a banner job rolling out the welcome wagon.
I've seen Rhett on his own a handful of times before, but I was curious what would differentiate his show at the Coronet from the gigs I've seen in San Francisco. To my surprise, this show didn't feel radically different from the last one I attended at the Swedish American Hall three whole years ago. In both alcohol-free clubs, the audience maintained respectful hush, though voices piped in hoots and requests now and again. To tell you the truth, I preferred this super-relaxed air to the giddy, amorous anticipation that often marks his concerts (pot, meet kettle?). This, combined with the Coronet's stately frame, somehow made Rhett's teen idol moves more palatable as well.
This debatable detail aside, Rhett apparently took the setting into consideration too, as he made an effort to include at least one song that he doesn't regularly air, and tonight that distinction went to "Holy Cross." I'm not familiar enough with Rhett's or the Old 97s' catalog to have known that myself, so I was glad he alerted us to its significance. Another point lost to my cluelessness is the new material he's written for his next solo album, which he's set to start recording in the new year. If it helps any, he may have suggested that we picture ourselves around a campfire for one of them. Filling out the bulk of the set were familiar favorites such as "Doreen" and "Murder (Or a Heart Attack)."
I love seeing frontmen (and women) away from their bread-and-butter bands to find out where the songs come from and how they develop. With Rhett's solo material, it was easy to hear the tunes' simpler roots compared to the busier final products, but my ignorance rears its head once again, as I admit that the differences were less discernible to me on the Old 97s' material. However, even I realize the band typically contributes harmonies and lead guitar. I missed both elements tonight, but at least I had a Rancheros Brothers gig still to come.
Greg Proops opened up the show with a short set, and of course, the election provided plenty of opportunity for commentary. In his snarky and studied monologue, he revealed that he was a Hillary supporter; in retrospect, that shouldn't have been a surprise, but it does explain some of his more barbed observations.
See also:
» this is what i do
Rhett Miller, Largo at the Coronet, November 22, 2008: I have an unofficial roster of people I want to see at Largo, work, time, and finances permitting. Rhett Miller has been on that list for while, and finally, events conspired to bring me to one of his shows in Los Angeles.
Pre-Coronet, Rhett took Largo's move harder than many of the artists associated with the club, so there was some question as to how he'd react to the new space. I'd say the outlook is good, as he reminded us that the same people who made it all possible were still steering the ship. Obviously, I've thrown my faith in with this lot for some time now, but it was nice to get the seal of approval from someone on the other side of the stage. Clearly, we did a banner job rolling out the welcome wagon.
I've seen Rhett on his own a handful of times before, but I was curious what would differentiate his show at the Coronet from the gigs I've seen in San Francisco. To my surprise, this show didn't feel radically different from the last one I attended at the Swedish American Hall three whole years ago. In both alcohol-free clubs, the audience maintained respectful hush, though voices piped in hoots and requests now and again. To tell you the truth, I preferred this super-relaxed air to the giddy, amorous anticipation that often marks his concerts (pot, meet kettle?). This, combined with the Coronet's stately frame, somehow made Rhett's teen idol moves more palatable as well.
This debatable detail aside, Rhett apparently took the setting into consideration too, as he made an effort to include at least one song that he doesn't regularly air, and tonight that distinction went to "Holy Cross." I'm not familiar enough with Rhett's or the Old 97s' catalog to have known that myself, so I was glad he alerted us to its significance. Another point lost to my cluelessness is the new material he's written for his next solo album, which he's set to start recording in the new year. If it helps any, he may have suggested that we picture ourselves around a campfire for one of them. Filling out the bulk of the set were familiar favorites such as "Doreen" and "Murder (Or a Heart Attack)."
I love seeing frontmen (and women) away from their bread-and-butter bands to find out where the songs come from and how they develop. With Rhett's solo material, it was easy to hear the tunes' simpler roots compared to the busier final products, but my ignorance rears its head once again, as I admit that the differences were less discernible to me on the Old 97s' material. However, even I realize the band typically contributes harmonies and lead guitar. I missed both elements tonight, but at least I had a Rancheros Brothers gig still to come.
Greg Proops opened up the show with a short set, and of course, the election provided plenty of opportunity for commentary. In his snarky and studied monologue, he revealed that he was a Hillary supporter; in retrospect, that shouldn't have been a surprise, but it does explain some of his more barbed observations.
See also:
» this is what i do
Sunday, April 03, 2005
this is what i do
I'm slowly realizing that I'm still in the midst of a bout of PCD and in withdrawal from the wonderful events of March. But whining and moaning is the last thing I want to do (this post aside), so I figure you just gotta move on and get back on the horse. Fortunately, there are certainly opportunities to do so in this town.
Rhett Miller, Swedish American Hall, April 2, 2005: On the way in, I noticed that the little bulletin board by the entrance has a list of the hall's events posted--not gigs, mind you, but meetings of the Swedish Ladies Society and such. So cute. I have visions of a buffet of meatballs and, um, aquavit.
The hall itself is a gorgeous affair, looking like something out of, errrr, The Crucible. It has great wood detailing and clean, open lines. I always think it'd be a great place to have a wedding, but I've only been there for shows. I understand that it sometimes hosts readings as well.
I hold my breath every time a Largo regular shows up in San Francisco, in the hopes that Jon Brion will decide to tag along with them and jump onstage at some point during the show. Of course, I've been wrong every single time I've anticipated an appearance, and he instead shows up at the least likely shows (Critters Buggin', Polyphonic Spree), so I really should just give it up. This time, when I saw the baby grand still under wraps and pushed back in a corner, I knew this would be a truly solo show, though on certain songs I could hear Jon's backing vocals in my head (oy, I'm hopeless).
Last time we saw Rhett was with the Old 97's at the Fillmore last summer. Now, he's about to start his second solo album, which explains why he's making appearances at Largo again and why he's doing San Francisco. It also explains his setlist, which covered a number of new songs. I don't know who's producing his new record, so who knows how the songs will sound in their final incarnation, but they were pretty straightforward and patently Rhett. My favorite of the bunch was a country/western-style duet for which he has yet to find a female lead. I believe it was called "Firefly," and a local group has also recorded it. Of course, he did tons of old favorites too. The song selection for the encore were inspired by his friends' recent engagement. The tunes included "Question," "The New Kid," "Our Love," and "Erica the Beautiful." All the way through, he told numerous charming stories. It's hard not to get swoony over him. Swooooooooooooon.
By the way, he was as cute as a button. He cut his hair, he has bangs again, and he did that hip and arm thing. Rowr.
Inara George was the opener, and she was accompanied on acoustic guitar and backing vocals by a guy named Mike. It took me a while to remember that they play Largo all the time, and they certainly fit the mold. Inara has a lovely voice, and their set was fine and low-key.
Rhett Miller, Swedish American Hall, April 2, 2005: On the way in, I noticed that the little bulletin board by the entrance has a list of the hall's events posted--not gigs, mind you, but meetings of the Swedish Ladies Society and such. So cute. I have visions of a buffet of meatballs and, um, aquavit.
The hall itself is a gorgeous affair, looking like something out of, errrr, The Crucible. It has great wood detailing and clean, open lines. I always think it'd be a great place to have a wedding, but I've only been there for shows. I understand that it sometimes hosts readings as well.
I hold my breath every time a Largo regular shows up in San Francisco, in the hopes that Jon Brion will decide to tag along with them and jump onstage at some point during the show. Of course, I've been wrong every single time I've anticipated an appearance, and he instead shows up at the least likely shows (Critters Buggin', Polyphonic Spree), so I really should just give it up. This time, when I saw the baby grand still under wraps and pushed back in a corner, I knew this would be a truly solo show, though on certain songs I could hear Jon's backing vocals in my head (oy, I'm hopeless).
Last time we saw Rhett was with the Old 97's at the Fillmore last summer. Now, he's about to start his second solo album, which explains why he's making appearances at Largo again and why he's doing San Francisco. It also explains his setlist, which covered a number of new songs. I don't know who's producing his new record, so who knows how the songs will sound in their final incarnation, but they were pretty straightforward and patently Rhett. My favorite of the bunch was a country/western-style duet for which he has yet to find a female lead. I believe it was called "Firefly," and a local group has also recorded it. Of course, he did tons of old favorites too. The song selection for the encore were inspired by his friends' recent engagement. The tunes included "Question," "The New Kid," "Our Love," and "Erica the Beautiful." All the way through, he told numerous charming stories. It's hard not to get swoony over him. Swooooooooooooon.
By the way, he was as cute as a button. He cut his hair, he has bangs again, and he did that hip and arm thing. Rowr.
Inara George was the opener, and she was accompanied on acoustic guitar and backing vocals by a guy named Mike. It took me a while to remember that they play Largo all the time, and they certainly fit the mold. Inara has a lovely voice, and their set was fine and low-key.
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