you shouldn't be faint about it

Amid all the holiday season hubbub, I almost forgot we had a Friday the 13th in December this year. What better way to tempt fate than with Robyn Hitchcock's return to Largo at the Coronet?

Robyn Hitchcock, Largo at the Coronet, December 13, 2019

No surprise that I decided to attend this show on the promise of the "Robyn and Friends" billing. Though I try to temper my expectations, I hold out hope that a beloved figure or two will show up. Stay tuned to see if they do.

Robyn emerged in a flowery shirt on a minimalist stage, though the three mic stands hinted at the personnel to come. He explained that the show would be broken up into two segments separated by a brief intermission. He said a whole lot more, to be honest, but I can't remember the sequence or most of the banter. I'll try to cover some of it later, but for now, I can report that he went straightaway into "Balloon Man," perhaps his most notable stateside hit. In fact, he played a bunch of Robyn Hitchcock and the Egyptians songs during this performance, perhaps in preparation for the upcoming performance of Eye at the Chapel in San Francisco for his birthday in March. Who can blame him? It's a landmark record with some of his greatest songs, and we want to hear it.

Not long ago, I realized that Robyn may be the through line connecting much of the American music I love the most: Wilco, Gillian Welch, Grant Lee Phillips, and Jon Brion, to name a few. (In fact, he opened three shows with Wilco in Chicago shortly after the Largo date.) A little internet research turns up a reasonable explanation: He was a huge influence on REM, and in return, they championed him among their fans at their peak popularity, not only playing on his records but also touring with him. It's no stretch to imagine that the young musicians listening to REM would turn their ears to Robyn as well.

I mention this because I think it helps explain my evolution as a Robyn fan. Granted, Robyn has a ton of die-hard fans who can recite his discography backward and forward. I'm not one of them, but I've come to fully appreciate his influence on at least one corner of the American indie landscape. Even during my Anglophile years, his music required a greater intellectual investment than the shiny pop hits of the day, though they often had incredible hooks and melodies. A friend once told me that I'll get Dylan when the time is right. (This has yet to happen.) I guess the time has arrived for me and Robyn, now that I've seen him in concert umpteen times.

Robyn talked a lot during the show, though I can't say if it was more or less than usual. The banter that stuck out the most was all geography based, as he shared his experiences living in Los Angeles, San Francisco, and New York, while growing more distant from England. He had a great bit about being in school with Brian Eno, in the same way that he was in England at the same time as Winston Churchill. That is, their schedules happened to coincide. Any true connection was imaginary.

Unsurprisingly, the sublime "Madonna of the Wasps" was a highlight of the show and reminded me that I had caught Robyn's birthday tribute at the Fillmore a few years back. Drawing from that cast, Eric Johnson of the Fruit Bats joined Robyn and Emma Swift for a couple of songs ("Trams of Old London," "Ole Tarantula") to end the main set. I'm not sure if Eric has played Largo before, but it's always a please to see another artist join the fold.

Robyn took to the piano for the encore, banging out three of his biggest influences: Pink Floyd, Bob Dylan, and John Lennon. I'm forever a fan of the Lennon track ("God"). Robyn went entirely traditional on the tune, not ad-libbing any lyrics. As much as Robyn likes to chit chat, this show might've been one of the better spotlights on his music I've seen in a while. My appreciation has only deepened. Until next time (and there certainly will be a next time)!

See also:
» i was a new york doll

when u love somebody

Reunions, remakes, reboots -- they're a simple fact of life these days. I'm not crazy about them, but I'm glad I have a choice. Reunions, in particular, make me feel my age, but some are not subject to debate. Thus, there was no hesitation to get to the Fruit Bats, now reassembled.

Fruit Bats, the Independent, May 19, 2016: This is how much I love the Fruit Bats: I went to Eric Johnson's solo show, though I had no idea what to expect. The Fruit Bats are responsible for one of my favorite records of all time, Mouthfuls, and it arrived during a particularly music-heavy era for me. A friend recently posted a reminder of us all on AIM, listening to Mouthfuls and chatting away when we weren't flying and driving to see shows with each other. Oh, the Aughts! It was a good run.

As far as reunions go, Fruit Bats didn't exactly light up the headlines like LCD Soundsystem, but I'm glad they're back (with a decidedly less dodgy reasoning). It appears the Ruminant Band is supporting him again, so they obviously have the chemistry and teamwork under their belts. The shared experience was apparent from the sweet harmonies they added to Eric's already charming melodies.

As mentioned above, Mouthfuls is my favorite, and this show confirmed a suspicion: I like the Fruit Bats a lot better live than I do on record. Obviously, this comes down to personal preference, but their records don't hold my attention, whereas their live representation is all I want in a band, delivering great tunes, voices, musicianship, and energy. They didn't disappoint at all in that regard.

To my ears, Fruit Bats have always been folk music at its core, with a bit of production thrown in. Maybe it's my bias, but now that they're based on the West Coast, I hear so much more of the Laurel Canyon vibe. That's not bad news at all, and in fact, it's still as sweet as ever. When you have Eric's voice, you don't need to do a whole lot to pretty it up.



However, I noticed one big change. Perhaps due to last year's tour with My Morning Jacket, the audience is livelier and more invested than I recall from the last outing. They knew a ton of the songs, and they let the band know it. That has to be a huge lift for the musicians. I hope it carries over for the rest of the tour and beyond.

Alas, the only downside to this revival is the fact that Mouthfuls tends to get left off the setlist. Granted, I know it's been [checks Google] 13 years since its release, but I can name several fantastic tracks from the record, and only one was played. That track was "When U Love Somebody," of course, as the finale. The records that came after Mouthfuls, including the new one, were well represented, but as an old-timer, I would love to hear "Rainbow Sign" (and others).

Before I sign off, I'll repeat again the story of seeing Fruit Bats at Bottom of the Hill approximately 100 [checks Google] 13 years ago, when they played to a small crowd composed of many friends and probably a handful of fans. I'm going to dream of that version of "Purple Rain" for a long time. If Eric ever wants to record it, I'll be the first to download it.



See also:
» the cub who washed out in the flood
» she couldn't dance but she wanted to
» waiting for the rainbow sign

she couldn't dance but she wanted to

Back at home and if I'm going to get over this post-concert depression, the best way to do it is with another show. This time, it's the heavenly Fruit Bats at the Independent.

Fruit Bats, the Independent, April 26, 2012: This is how incredibly out of it I am when it comes to the Fruit Bats. I was vaguely aware of Eric Johnson's stint with the Shins, but I had no idea the Decemberists recently covered "When U Love Somebody," though that totally explains why the entire crowd got into the song, including the guy who didn't appear to speak another word of English over the course of the night. If the price of admission were a pop quiz on the band, I never would've been allowed entrance, barring acceptance of a wobbly rendition of "Rainbow Sign."

Fruit Bats have been vastly underrepresented in this blog and, well, in my life, considering how much I love Mouthfuls and the first gig I saw of theirs at Bottom of the Hill approximately 100 years ago (or 2003 -- photo evidence presented below!) populated mainly by the musicians' friends, who requested both "Buffalo and Deer" and one of the best covers of "Purple Rain" I've ever heard. Since then, I've caught them only one other time, probably because they had a habit of playing here on the weekends I was out of town, in all likelihood pursuing my other musical interests. For obvious reasons, I'm not including the Eric Johnson sighting from a couple of years ago at a Wilco aftershow in Portland entirely peopled by indie rockers and food cart vendors. In short, I needed to hit this gig!



I don't think any dedicated music fan can or cares to distill their favorite songs to one element or characteristic, but if I had to name a common feature among my most beloved bands/performers, it has to be the voice. Granted, my idea of a great voice probably wouldn't pass muster on any of the TV competition shows, and I doubt I can come up with a consistent definition for what constitutes golden vocals. Also, it never hurts if those dulcet tones are matched to lilting melodies, jangly guitars, a driving rhythm, and maybe airy piano. Ultimately, as a nonmusician, I like to sing along, so the voice is my hook.

Eric Johnson, as leader of the Fruit Bats, possesses my Platonic ideal of a pop voice -- like, if it were up to me, his croon would've gone out on Voyager to represent the apex of our culture to alien species (probably). I've compared him to Neil Finn in the past, but if Neil brings to mind Paul McCartney, Eric's pipes take me back a decade. I can hear him helming classic Buddy Holly tracks, though I'm pretty sure he can handle almost anything you throw his way.

I've read enough YouTube and AV Club comments to know I'm not alone in this regard, and maybe the band got the memo too because the show opened with Eric on his own on electric guitar. I can't tell you what the song was because (1) I don't take notes during shows (except when that one fellow in Los Angeles is headlining), and (2) I don't own the new record. In fact, I've been pretty slack about keeping up with the Fruit Bats for the last few records, but that's about to change now that I've seen the error of my ways.

I still think of Fruit Bats as a folk group, probably due to the memories of that first, bare-bones show, despite the ample evidence of their full, lush arrangements. More generally, Fruit Bats often get lumped into the befuddling Americana genre; sure, they're known to play a banjo, but the production work on their early records wouldn't necessarily lead you down that path. I don't think the new songs are going to put much distance between them and this current pigeonhole (namechecking Michael Landon in your onstage banter doesn't help either), but on this outing, you couldn't ignore their rocking qualities. I'm intrinsically drawn to the bubbling grace notes, but the bluesy troughs and aggro excursions made a strong impression. Don't worry, though; on one track, the band crafted three-part harmonies right in front of our eyes -- not necessarily a rarity, but it's still a sight to behold and, er, be-hear. I'm pretty sure that song was, in fact, "Rainbow Sign."

Sub Pop label mate and local legend Kelley Stoltz was second on the bill. He's another guy whose gigs have a way of eluding me, though I saw him open for British Sea Power in 2005, and there's always the Echo and the Bunnymen tribute show with Spiral Stairs that originated in San Francisco long ago.

Anyway, back to Kelley: I always do a double take whenever his songs come up on shuffle -- the depth and richness of his tracks never fail to stand out from the crowd. As a support act, Kelley's portion was limited to 45 minutes, so he didn't get to some requests, notably "Wave Goodbye," which I would've loved to hear too.

The centerpiece of his show were the two tracks from his single, "Caroline" and "Marcy." As Kelley explained it, "Caroline" was sort of a tribute to all songs sharing that name, in whatever form, and it bore the signs of that lineage. Its retro feel was evident, but somehow, he makes it sound modern too. We also got a new track Kelley and the band had worked up just a couple of days before, a murky, psychedelic number, filling out a night of classic songwriting, catchy melodies, and artful arrangements.

I probably say this all the time, but I mean it: Gentlemen, please play again and let me correct the error of my ways.

See also:
» waiting for the rainbow sign
» from the books you don't read anyway

waiting for the rainbow sign

For all my hustling and bustling and sleep deprivation, I made it back to San Francisco at a decent time Sunday--only to find out that the concert I had planned to attend that night was sold out! D'oh! I'm kicking myself, but to tell you the truth, I'm not sure I would've been in the moment. At least I managed to get out the door the following night.

Fruit Bats, The Independent, April 10, 2006: It's true--I'm not the concert goer I used to be. Besides the incident listed above, I missed the Fruit Bats the last time they were in town. This night, I had no excuse, as they were basically playing only a couple of miles away from my apartment, and the skies held their ground for a few hours. Frankly, I was shocked that the Fruit Bats were playing the Independent. The two other times I've seen them were at Bottom of the Hill, and the club was far from full. But by the time the band came on, a decent crowd had turned up.

Previously, I've seen the Fruit Bats with a very spare setup; on one occasion, it was just Eric and his then (?) girlfriend. I believe it was at that show where he closed with a moving and surprisingly viable cover of "Purple Rain."

Now, there was a whole band onstage, and as it turned out, they brought the rawk. In fact, if it weren't for Eric Johnson's sweet voice and lovely tunes, you might be forgiven for not recognizing the band. Eric played electric guitar for the entire show (no acoustic!), and he made a couple of jokes distancing himself from "bittersweet folk rock" and comparing himself to Jimmy Page. The energy level was a far cry from the very low-key shows at Bottom of the Hill. At one point, while emphatically bending his chords, Eric's glasses flew off, and in that endearingly awkward indie rock way, they had to take a moment after the song to locate them.

They played a couple of songs from the first album and a lot from the new one, but to my delight, they did a bunch of tunes from the divine Mouthfuls, my favorite, though differently than the last time I heard them live. Besides the electric treatment, most of the harmonies came from a dude (the drummer). And it's worth repeating: I love Eric's voice. He kind of reminds me of Neil Finn, not so much in sound or even style but in warmth and emotion. And I don't say that about very many singers.

Often, I see a really good band and wonder if they'll ever gain a foothold in the industry. Fruit Bats were certainly in this category, but I'm glad their move to Sub Pop seems to be paying off; I'll be back if they will.