the mind is shot but the body's fine

Ahh, the fall touring season -- the music nerd's favorite time of the year. Heck, even I can be convinced to venture outside at night for a show featuring the older, wiser Gaz Coombes.

Gaz Coombes, Swedish American Hall, Sept. 23, 2018

A couple of years ago, I caught Gaz Coombes live at Slim's, and he turned me into a bigger fan of his solo work than of his Supergrass oeuvre. Since then, I've seen announcements for a smattering of Gaz's live appearances, particularly in Los Angeles, and for once, I felt a bit of FOMO. I managed to miss him in the Bay Area earlier this year, but not this time.

In my opinion, the nuances of Gaz's solo performance at Slim's kinda fell to the wayside, due to the club atmosphere. Though I enjoyed the show, the details escape me. Perhaps if he brings a full band with him, Slim's could work, but for his current act, the Swedish American is a much better spot, even if he hinted that we were too sedate at times.

At the Swedish American, he was the sole focus on the compact stage, flanked by a piano and a handful of guitars. We heard the piano tuner was responsible in part for the delay in doors opening, but it was a small price to pay for the pristine sound.

Gaz explained that he had recently completed a tour of Australia and New Zealand. Also, he had appeared on The Late Late Show with James Corden earlier that week. I'm so out of it these days that I wasn't aware of his TV slot! But I enjoy knowing that Anglophiles have at least one national media outlet for their favorite acts.

I hadn't heard the new album at the time of the show, so unfortunately I can't say much about the new songs (good job, blogger!). But I recall one song where he turned on the loopers to create those lush layers of sound and instrumentation that we all take for granted these days. I, for one, welcome our new looping overlords.

In the couple of years since that show at Slim's, Matador has hit heavy rotation on my iPhone. Gaz wisely elected to play "The Girl Who Fell to Earth" and "Detroit" from the record. He introduced each with stories: the former about raising his young daughter, the latter about a meltdown in the Motor City when he was still in Supergrass. Both are worth the download if you like Gaz's later-era work.

That evening, he closed with two songs from Supergrass: "Moving" and "Caught by the Fuzz." The crowd perked up for both (though to be fair, audience members had lobbed the customary "I love you"s and whatnot throughout the show). On "Moving," we tried to clap along with the chorus, and we simply hooted and hollered with "Caught by the Fuzz." I think if he had asked us to leave our seats and come closer to the stage we would've happily (and politely) jumped around for the old favorites. Instead, we bopped in our chairs.

After the show, Gaz signed and took photos with fans, and the fellow in front of me in line made the most of the opportunity with about a half-dozen records for him to autograph. I heard a lot of "I saw Supergrass back in the day" stories too. Gaz was gracious and attentive through it all. I love his post-Britpop success story.

See also:
» they want your heart and soul

you must be an artist

There's been so much sad news lately, and I have no answer for it. But I knew I had made the right decision to attend Kevin Barnes' solo acoustic show when the first two songs I heard over the PA were by David Bowie and Roxy Music.

Kevin Barnes, Swedish American Hall, May 25, 2018

I have no concept of trends, upticks, downgrades, or anything these days, so I go by instinct on when to jump on tickets and when to let demand play out. My sense was Kevin Barnes doesn't tour by himself a whole lot -- at least not in the Bay Area -- so I might as well catch this show. And as recent experience has reminded me, don't pass up the opportunity to see special artists when you can.

It's been a while since I've seen Of Montreal, but I have fond memories of those shows, filled with spectacle and theatrics. However, the appearance I won't forget for a long time is a visit to the Little Room at Largo and a tearful rendition of "Mother." (Um, I saw Kevin at Largo at the Coronet twice?!) And really, a solo acoustic performance is like catnip to me.

Kevin informed the crowd that he has a new album and played several songs from the record. The audience happily went along for the ride, though once again, I'll profess ignorance of most of Kevin's work. But they sang with him, roared out the choruses, and of course proclaimed their love for him. I wouldn't have expected anything less.

I will always associate Of Montreal with ornate, florid production, so it was fantastic to hear the songs in their stripped-down form. Even in their most fundamental form, Kevin's songs probably wouldn't be classified as folk music; his melodies are still a little too baroque for the genre. This is not a bad thing; in fact, Kevin's trademark musicality remains untouched. In a couple of spots, he provided his own echoing backing vocals and a cappella synth sounds for the full DIY effect.

The other major contrast to his performances with Of Montreal was his appearance. He wore no makeup, showed little product in his hair, and donned jeans and a t-shirt -- albeit a bright print that he claimed was his mother's, along with a sparkly necklace. He fit right in among the clean lines and natural materials at the Swedish Music Hall.

Kevin bantered amiably, but I can't remember any of the exchanges, other than the intro to his closing song. He halfway apologized for one phrase and asked if it was acceptable. The song was, of course, "Bunny Ain't No Kind of Rider" (a former favorite at Largo), and the phrase was "faggy girl." I'm sure someone out there will find offense, but I'm not one of them. Anyway, it was fun as hell to hear, especially with the audience chipping in all over.

I don't need to say it, but Kevin Barnes is absolutely legit, eyeliner or no.

See also:
» the only dancer i believe in
» everybody's gotta learn sometimes
» really quite out of sight

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

all possibilities

This may be a first for me: The same night Badly Drawn Boy was scheduled to play upstairs at the Swedish American Hall, the honest-to-goodness Swedish Society held a meeting downstairs. Though we didn't have as many yummy snacks as the Swedes, I have no doubt Damon's gig matched them in December cheer.

Badly Drawn Boy, Swedish American Hall, December 14, 2010: I don't take recommendations lightly, and in fact, I refrain from making them except under specific circumstances--typically, after we've been locked in a room for weeks on end, I've noted every song you've ever sung or hummed to yourself, and I've issued major caveats in terms of which tune you might like and which ones to avoid. By the time I dredge up a name, it's more a warning than a tip, regardless of how much I love the artist.

Case in point: Badly Drawn Boy. I unequivocally love the guy, but there's always a question as to which Damon Gough will show up at any given concert. Will he be petulant, exultant, or cocky? And behind those faces, will he reveal the fanboy defending his devotion to Bruce Springsteen, the proud father who passes around pictures of his children to the audience, or the barfly who happens to be holding the microphone? There's only one way to find out: See him for yourself.

You could probably be forgiven for pigeonholing Damon based on his gruff appearance and confident sound bites, but take the time to listen, and his classic songwriting chops jump out. In a solo setting, those basics pop even more, notably his lovely voice and his way with melodies. "The Shining" is one for the ages, and it lived up to its legend this evening, but he changed up several tracks without a backing band behind him. For example, "Once Around the Block" benefited from his use of loopers, while on a lo-fi tip, we tried to help, as requested, with a whistling outro on "You Were Right."



Damon wasn't entirely on his own, however. A few friends popped in, including Mike on electric guitar, Steve on piano, and the opener Justin Jones on tambourine. Steve almost stole the show with an old routine in which he made a grand gesture of holding up an index finger for all the audience to see, then used it to accompany Damon on "Magic in the Air." Less dramatically, he appeared to be using more than a single digit to fill out the rest of the song, but who cares when it sounds that good? Justin had a harder time keeping a straight face, but his grins and giggles spoke for all of us.



Damon has never been shy about chatting it up between songs, and he didn't hold back tonight. Among the more inspired conversational threads was an extended riff on the audience handbook and its lessons on when we're allowed and/or encouraged to cheer, clap, and engage with the performer. We eventually picked up on the hints, though Damon continued to offer guidance when the instructions escaped us.

The solo setting also allowed Damon some leeway in his choice of covers, including Richie Havens' "I Can't Make It Anymore" early in the set and the standby "Like a Virgin" intro for the always fantastic "Silent Sigh." (Madonna also came up in Damon's own lyrics for "You Were Right.") But there's no doubt Damon saved the best for last when he cited a song from 1983 as a major influence on his life, explained his use of backing vocal tracks, then serenaded us with "Thunder Road." In the course of the performance, he shook hands with everyone in the front row of the audience before settling down in a chair to simply belt it out. If that isn't a sign of a man of the people, I don't know what is, and it's precisely this mix of humility and brashness that makes the best Badly Drawn Boy gigs so memorable.



Justin Jones opened up the show, and he held his own against such a personality as Badly Drawn Boy. As a songwriter and performer, Justin is entirely in my wheelhouse with stark, emotional songs and deep delivery, leavened by sardonic asides and banter. I've seen his name show up on my local concert calendar now and again, and I plan to investigate further when he returns to town.

See also:
» a strong heart will prevail
» come see what we all talk about
» pre-easily fooled
» tell me that you've heard every sound there is

your favorite thing

This post has been brought to you by the good people at Noise Pop! In addition to putting on some of the finest music events in San Francisco, the kind staffers picked my name out of what I imagine to be a mountain of entries--you can't convince me otherwise--and awarded me with a pair of tickets to see Bob Mould. They not only allowed me to see a longtime favorite, they did it at the exact right time, as my concert calendar would've otherwise been empty for this month. Noise Pop, you have my undying loyalty!

Bob Mould, Swedish American Hall, November 19, 2010: On my way to work Friday morning, I listened to the Fresh Air podcast with Keith Richards, and the interview echoed in my brain throughout the day. Feel free to debate the Rolling Stones' relevance on your own time; the main point that stayed with me is Terry Gross's inquiry about the Rolling Stones' advancing years. In response, Keith mentioned that Count Basie and Duke Ellington were subject to the same barbs--this isn't a new question. (He also slurred some off-hand remark about getting on with it or some such generalization, but you get the point.)

I, for one, appreciated that shot of perspective, and for the first time ever, I kind of appreciate the fact that Keith and crew are still doing their thing, even if you'll never find me at a Stones show. And as a self-involved music fan, I couldn't help but think of its implications for my friends and myself, who are far beyond the teenage and 20-something demographic usually associated with this particular hobby.

On the heels of that interview, tonight's Bob Mould gig set off another round of rumination on music and maturity. I suppose you can levy some of the same complaints lodged against the Rolling Stones to someone like Bob--or anyone in the business for more than, say, five minutes--who's no longer the young punk we first saw in the '80s. I'd venture, though, that Bob has maintained his dignity and integrity, while remaining a vital artist, in a way that few other musicians can claim. Of course, that's my highly biased opinion, but to me, Bob stands as the epitome of a class act in an industry not known for decent role models.

...and if you stuck with me through that soapbox schpiel, you deserve to know how the show went. The evening's performance was billed as a solo acoustic show, and one of those adjectives turned out to be true. Yes, Bob was entirely on his own, but he brought along two guitars: one acoustic and one electric. Despite my adoration of Bob's mellower pieces, I also love when a Bob gig goes to 11; tonight, I didn't have to choose between the two.

I knew we were in for a solid night when, at the top of the set, Bob requested more guitar in his monitors because he felt like singing loud. As a friend mentioned at the end of the show, it's always a good idea to catch Bob at the start of the tour, before his voice is toast. Truer words were never spoken--Bob sounded better than I've heard him in years.



Bob opened with the familiar triumvirate of "See a Little Light," "Hear Me Calling," and "Hoover Dam," and overall, the setlist shaped up to be a well-edited representation of his repertoire, ranging from Husker Du to his more recent releases. Bob's catalog runs so deep that no single setlist could possibly hit every highlight, and I know I can come up with a few left-field requests that may or may not go fulfilled. Still, I can't complain about the evenhanded appraisal of his career and, especially, his trademark unrelenting guitar attack. Bob's foray into dance music is well known at this point, but in this setting, you couldn't ignore the spartan roots that anchor his songs, including newer compositions such as "Circles"--simply fantastic tonight--and "Life and Times."

As mentioned above, Bob allowed himself the choice between electric and acoustic. He started out on acoustic, but another side came out when he donned the electric. Sporting the electric, Bob churned out song after song, in a stream of words, chords, and melodies, often without a break between titles. At times, the guitar seemed like an extension of him, and you could sense how it allows him to speak through fuzz and distortion.



I honestly can't tell you how many times I've seen Bob in concert--I've lost track. But this show made known a side I haven't seen before. Bob was, in a word, talkative. Of course, there were the expected comments about a song's inspiration--for example, "Thumbtack" was written at a time when he was miserable and living in Austin--but Bob held forth on whole range of topics, from the pleasures of living in San Francisco to the Northeastern audience's disbelief of claims public nudity in his new hometown to his partner's shared history with Greg Dulli. Apparently, they worked in the same Cincinnati mall as teenagers. We especially enjoyed learning of Greg's former employer: Camelot Music.

Bob also revealed that Dave Grohl recently called him up to play on the upcoming Foo Fighters record. In Bob's telling, he thrashed out a note or two for Dave, who demanded to know what chord he'd just played. Bob's reply: My chord. Bob made no promises as to whether Dave and gang will keep his contributions, but keep your ears peeled. Also, if you're thinking that call was long overdue, I'm with you! But Bob seemed cool with the acknowledgment, and that's good enough for me.

When you watch certain performers, you have no doubt that they were meant for the stage; other artists, however, take their time in reaching those comfort levels, but if you stick around for the journey, it's hugely rewarding to see them hit their stride. I can think of several examples of the latter, many of whom are my favorite artists. Bob easily qualifies as one of them--on both counts, now that I mention it. I've never seen him more at ease in front of audience, especially on his own and not as part of a band. The most telling moment of the night may have been when he commented matter-of-factly, "I love this song," and launched into the epic "Brasilia Crossed with Trenton." He's in good company on that count.

Bob may have worked his way to a discussion of his upcoming memoirs on his own volition, but we didn't have to wait long, as the audience jogged his memory early on. Amid declarations of "you're hot" from both male and female voices, one person asked flat out, "What have you been up to?" Bob duly reported that he hasn't written any new music; instead, his energies have gone into writing his book, set to be released in June 2011. He laid out some of the history, including his turning down the initial offer about a decade ago. He cited Michael Azerrad as an influence on both his decision and his authorship, and he promised us it'll be a good read. I'd expect no less from him.

See also:
» listen, there's music in the air
» i want something that's warm and honest

not like all the other boys

After the hullabaloo of Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, the cloistered, controlled Swedish American Hall couldn't have been more welcoming. Leading the services, Fran Healy and Andy Dunlop of Travis brought to mind the band's own words of wisdom from many years ago: back to that good feeling.

An Evening with Fran Healy and Andy Dunlop from Travis, Swedish American Hall, October 8, 2009: If there's one discernible thread running through my musical preferences, I think it would go back to an interest in singer/songwriters and, arguably, folk(ish) music, even before I knew what they were. In that regard, my longtime fondness for Travis fits right in.



I know that not everyone will agree with me on the above point, and I understand that one installment of Storytellers does not a troubadour make. Heck, I don't really adhere to my own rules, and I suspect many of the artists whose records comprise my music collection would flinch at such a label. I certainly wouldn't have guessed that Travis would fill this niche all those years ago when I picked up Good Feeling (in 1997, to be exact).

But in this setting, Fran and Andy--working with a skeleton crew and a minimal amount of gear--were the very picture of wandering balladeers, albeit for the electronic age. Fran, ever garrulous, discoursed freely and widely through the promised chronological examination of the band's output, and Andy chipped in some punchlines and his essential guitar notes. In addition, Fran's slide show (oddly, however, they didn't play "Slide Show") included some hilarious images--even if they were doctored for our enjoyment--as well as more heartfelt pictures, such as one of his son. And though Fran apologized over and over for playing so long, no objections arose from the crowd.

Once upon a time, I read every Travis interview I could get a hold of and repurposed them for public display. Thus, I probably know more than I need to about the band, but even for this former nutcase, Fran revealed some surprising and specific details, down to where some songs were written (Millport, Isle of Cumbrae, brace yourself), when they came about, and the very events that set them off.

For example, I had no idea that "As You Are" was written long before it showed up on The Man Who. Considering it remains one of my favorite of the band's songs, maybe that folk angle would've played out earlier had it been included on their debut. Also, Fran introduced a new wrinkle into the provenance of "Writing to Reach You." Joining the ranks of the better-known nods to Noel Gallagher and Franz Kafka were the musical stylings of American indie rockers the Connells. Who will he cite next? The Loud Family?

For those keeping score at home, the commercial breakthrough The Man Who garnered the lion's share of Fran and Andy's attention and efforts; they even played the album's hidden track "Flashing Blue Light." Every other album merited a couple of tracks each, except for the often forgotten 12 Memories, which got only one airing, with "Love Will Come Through."

What I appreciated most was Fran's take on the nitty-gritty of writing music: finding inspiration, working through the throwaway ideas, and dealing with deadlines. Not that it was all muso talk--alcohol factored into several tales, as did Fran's repeated citation of Dougie as the coolest member of the band. And I'll never be able to hear the band's "Sing" the same way ever again.

When Travis played San Francisco twice in 2007, I was as perplexed--and delighted--as anyone. This date took me by surprise as well, but Fran and Andy admitted their ulterior motive: Their goal was to write a song for every show--and thus, the band's next album--while on the road. (They also explained why the other two members of the band were not with them. Dougie was being a new dad, and Neil was racing cars.) At the end of the gig, they tried out that new tune, a song called "Holiday"--an original, not a Madonna cover. Fran warned us it could be shit, but it was quite lovely.

Capping off an amiable and engaging gig, Fran and Andy worked up one final hook: They invited everyone who wanted an autograph or a photo or just a word with them to stay. They didn't even leave the stage--they simply met with the line of attending fans. I believe they took more than an hour to greet the masses, and I can guarantee you that every single one of them left with a smile. Also, I suspect with their generous gesture, Fran and Andy solidified the kind of loyalty that's supposedly so difficult to find among contemporary music fans. Come back any time, guys.

See also:
» what's a wonderwall anyway
» give in, into that good feeling

the voices in your ear

If I had known that Jon Brion would follow up his gig opening for Of Montreal with his own show at the Swedish American Hall, I might've spared myself a trip to Southern California last weekend--but probably not.

Jon Brion, Swedish American Hall, July 25, 2009: I should've seen this coming. After all, Jon appended two visits to Chicago with intimate, hastily arranged gigs. It made perfect sense to do the same in San Francisco, but there was not a peep until Flanny announced it at last week's show. Fortunately, no flight changes were required to accommodate this extra date.

Wanna know the difference between a Jon Brion gig at Largo and one away from Largo? By my estimation, about a dozen guitars, a half-dozen microphones, and Flanny's intro. The moving truck parked outside the Swedish American Hall should've tipped us off that this wouldn't be a half-assed out-of-town gig, but it wasn't until we made it inside that the realization hit. The A/V club would soon come to session.

Pops and clicks from what turned out to be the keyboard mixer haunted the first portion of Jon's show, slightly marring the ever rueful "Someone Else's Problem Now" and the exquisite looping of "Strings That Tie to You." Quickly consulting with his techs and switching to guitar seemed to take care of the situation and brought us a couple more of Jon's mainstays, notably a Django-style "Me Myself and I."



"Further Along" featured the first song build of the night, but Jon's second sortie, for "Someone to Watch Over Me," drew distinctly rapturous applause. Not that he was playing to crickets before, but the reaction clearly kicked up a notch--deservedly so--for Jon's marked reimagining of the classic song.

I suspect, however, that this bravura performance didn't prepare the audience for Jon's next bravura performance. That is, he fired up the video mixers, cued up two separate video clips (one of a Latin band and the other of some sitar players), tickled many, many keys, and brought it all together for "More Than This." Sigh.

Admitting that he mainly wanted to do standards in the style of the White Album (see "Someone to Watch Over Me" above), Jon checked in with the audience and came away with a good sampling of suggestions spanning his original material and covers. He generally opted for understatement for the former; the usually bombastic "Not Ready Yet" landed on acoustic guitar, and the song's customary middle freak-out translated to a flurry of nylon-string notes. "Ruin My Day," meanwhile, swooped in from the heights, settled into its more customary cadence, and eased out prettily and inconspicuously.

Emmitt Rhodes and Brian Eno, however, enjoyed the full treatment. Jon entertained us with "Knock Yourself Out" while he tried to figure out how he was going to carry off the former. I don't think anyone doubted that he could loop the outro, as he announced to no one in particular, but hearing it was another matter, as the song's relatively humble piano-based beginning opened up to a grand denouement of drums, guitar, and probably a number of other instruments too.

Though Jon claimed to send out the Eno selection to three people in the audience, I suspect the numbers are a little higher. With the energy he poured into the song, he might as well have been playing to 3,000. That pounding drumbeat, those penetrating piano notes, met by the eviscerating bass and guitar--I sometimes wonder if it feels as good to play the song as it does to hear it. My guess: No--it probably feels even better.

As we approached the end of the set, Jon teased out a brief piano interlude that he called "an antidote to white noise" and granted a fan's request to do "Knock Yourself Out" again. This time, he opted for the celeste.

He would also switch on the video mixers a couple more times: first, for "Felix Goes West," a black-and-white cartoon for which he provided live accompaniment. The one part I could identify was a a ragtime reading of "Lithium," and believe it or not, it suited the old-time footage nicely.



For the final selection of the evening, he layered at least three different segments: one of a different Latino band, this time one with a more troubadour-like feel numbering only three men using guitars and fiddles, as well as two different theremin players. I'm oversimplifying, but through Jon's manipulations, they morphed into a string section for a song I haven't heard in ages, Cheap Trick's "Voices."

I've previously blogged about the version of "Voices" I heard at my first Jon Brion show, but it's been missing from his setlists for a while. Sounding nothing like that rendition from a decade (!) ago, tonight's reading lost the tinkling music boxes and traded them for rocking riffs and disc scratching. If anything, it harked back to his earlier statement about playing songs in the style of the White Album, with drawn-out arcs, dips, and drama.

Before leaving the stage, Jon mentioned that tonight's gig was a "recon" mission for future visits. I don't believe it for a second, and I don't need my friends who've seen his shows in New York and Chicago to confirm those suspicions. Still, the visit sure was nice while it lasted.

Setlist
--piano/Jeopardy theme/If I Only Had a Brain
--Someone Else's Problem Now
--Strings That Tie to You
--Me, Myself, and I
--No Excuse to Cry
--Further Along
--Punch-Drunk theme/Here We Go
--jazzy piano
--Someone to Watch Over Me
--piano
--More Than This [video mashup]
--Knock Yourself Out
--Promises I've Made
--Not Ready Yet
--Ruin My Day
--Baby's on Fire
--piano
--"Felix Goes West"
--Knock Yourself Out
--Voices

See also:
» first-time high
» public service announcement

get out of my cupboards

Buttercream is a bitch--and it kept me grounded the other night when I had provisionally planned on seeing a show. Who am I kidding, though? How often do I get to gigs anymore that don't owe some ties to that one band or that other place? Sara Watkins, of course, qualifies for the latter category, and that was enough to bring me out for her visit to the Swedish American Hall.

Sara Watkins, Swedish American Hall, May 12, 2009: I'm embarrassed to admit the internal debate that preceded my decision to attend this concert, so I'll pass the speaking banana to Liz Lemon: "I just want to go home and watch the show about midgets and eat a block of cheddar cheese." (Or, more specifically, Mad Men DVD commentaries and/or the Celtics game, coupled with that last strawberry cupcake.)



Sara Watkins has become a familiar presence on my concert calendar, whether presenting the Watkins Family Hour with her brother, dropping in on friends' shows at Largo, or touring with Nickel Creek. Her former band enjoyed a good number of dedicated fans; I wouldn't count myself among them, but I find her voice just so pretty.

Those lovely vocals were somewhat muted tonight, however, by a cold that left her struggling for some higher notes. Regardless, she soldiered on, fulfilling at least one audience request. Also, though I wouldn't say her battered throat took away from the show, it didn't hurt that she was flanked by her brother Sean Watkins on guitar and Benmont Tench on the baby grand.



Her song selection closely echoed her album's track list, and she threw in a few more covers, as well as an old Nickel Creek track. My hours logged at Largo have familiarized me with her Morrissey cover ("The More You Ignore Me, The Closer I Get"), as well as the extra Jon Brion track, but hearing them outside of that wonderful little bubble gave me a thrill too.



For starters, I may have been too caught up in nudges and winks that other time I heard them take on Morrissey to fully appreciate what they brought to the song--namely, Sean's accomplished solo and Sara's soulful fiddle. And "Trouble" was worth the time, if only to hear Benmont admit the song gives him, er, trouble. Don't let his protests fool you, though; Benmont's playing was as masterful as ever. Sean, too, took the spotlight for one song, a new track titled "Reality Calls," appended by some parenthetical I can't recall. (This is clearly shaping up to be a parenthetical year.)

Speaking of Jon Brion, the crew namechecked him several times, not least because they covered two of his tunes. I think a couple of other people in the audience reacted to his name, but in San Francisco, I'll take that--at least until Jon plays here in July. They extended some shout-outs to Largo, as well, and Sara shared a sweet story about playing "Anthony" right after she wrote it on Flanny's voicemail, which has now become a tradition for her.

Largo, for better or for worse, is not the real world. Of course, I love the monastic silence, but sometimes you gotta turn it up a notch. Even in the Swedish American Hall's ascetic space, crucial differences emerged. For one thing, there were no guest cameos, so we saw Sara, Sean, and Benmont pure and simple. Also, this cozier space allowed for more audience interaction. And finally, we came through loud and clear when Sara asked us to kick in for the chorus of "Long Hot Summer Day." Gillian Welch was right--we aren't a bad bunch of singers.

The trio closed out the show with an audience request for "Forever Young," despite Sara's acknowledgment of the toll it would take on her voice. She needn't worry, though; she belted out this perfect closer. Besides, even with a frog in her throat, she still sounds better than Dylan. ;)

See also:
» all this time
» cortez, cortez
» there's so much here to see

you're never coming back here again

I wasn't sad about missing Spoon on their last swing through San Francisco, but I was glad to see that Britt Daniel was returning for Noise Pop.

Britt Daniel, Swedish American Hall, March 29, 2006: Spoon's normal setup is undeniably spare, but Britt's solo rig is almost comically minimal. As far as I could tell, he had one boombox, one amp, one guitar (a gorgeous brown Gibson hollow body), and maybe a few pedals. At least the boombox looked snazzy.

Britt carried along an informal setlist, but he said early on that he would play what the audience wanted to hear and, in fact, picked up many requests. To start, he launched into the awesome "Advance Cassette," and over the course of the night, he played a mix of Spoon's five albums. To my delight, he hit more older songs than I expected, though as you might've guessed, Gimme Fiction tracks had the edge. We got a great cover of John Lennon's "Isolation," and I'll never tire of hearing "Metal Detektor" or "The Agony of Laffitte." Finally, any night where you hear a song from the Soft Effects EP is a good gig.

Britt was surprisingly modest, apologizing and warning us about songs that he didn't think would work. Before "Me and the Bean," he commented that he wished he had written it, and he claimed that he couldn't carry off "Fitted Shirt" without the harmonies and the drums. As far as I'm concerned, I didn't hear a bad song in the bunch. I can't comment on the new songs just yet; they sounded fine, though I didn't love either one the way that, say, "Delicate Place" hit me as soon as I heard it.

At one point, Britt mentioned that he's played more solo shows in San Francisco than anywhere else other than Austin. It didn't sound like he had planned it that way, but I'm glad to have been able to enjoy the bounty in my own backyard.

The openers were all singer-songwriters, though with different styles. The first one was named Meric Long, and he wore his heart rather visibly on his sleeve. I liked his use of loops, and for one song, his friend played the chair (rhythm). The second was named Martyn Leaper, from the Minders. We noted that his songs were about 2 minutes each, and Annie and I nudged each other during his rendition of "Waterloo Sunset." The last was Laura Viers, who had opened for Colin Meloy back in January. She played a longer set this time, and I loved the part when she went completely unplugged and played her song while walking around the hall, like a true troubador.

See also:
» i'll be out on the town
» turn to crystal form

i know she's here in California

It's 6 p.m., and I don't have a ton of work on my desk, so I figured I can sneak in a personal report. Here goes!

Glen Hansard, Swedish American Hall, May 25, 2005: Back in 2000 or so, I went to see the Waxwings opening for a band at Bottom of the Hill. The headliner was the Frames, and I have to admit that I didn't stay for the entire show, as I noticed some white guy from the Frames wearing dreadlocks wandering around the crowd. Yeah, I'm shallow, but I just wasn't in the mood for it that night. However, Maudie invited me to this solo acoustic show by the main songwriter in the band, and I couldn't say no. Oh, I should clarify that I think he's the main songwriter. I don't really know anything about the band, so I can't say.

The Heavenly States opened, also treating us to an unplugged-type performance. In contrast to the opening set they played at the British Sea Power show, there were only three people onstage: the singer, the violinist, and a keyboardist. I wasn't thrilled by their BSP set, but I was very pleasantly surprised by their performance this time. Granted, I'm a huge sucker for acoustic shows, but they were nowhere as snarky as they seemed previously. It turns out that they played a bunch of songs from their to-be-released album, so maybe it was the material. Regardless, they did a great job.

Glen took to the tiny Swedish American Hall stage with a very sparse setup. I think he had two guitars, and the hall's piano sat at the side. He was sort of what you'd expect from an Irish singer/songwriter: heartfelt songs, passionate vocals, charming stories, a self-deferential manner. For about half the songs, he was accompanied by a woman on the piano and backing vocals. He initially introduced her as Bunny Lebowski, though he referred to her by her real name later; unfortunately, I can't remember it right now. I was confused because I thought she was some local friend who happened to be available that night, but her knowledge of the songs quickly disabused me of that notion.

I didn't go because Maudie quoted some source that said he was Ireland's version of Jeff Tweedy. A friend's recommendation and the acoustic setup was enough for me. He was quite good, and I enjoyed myself, but in the end, I wasn't terribly moved. On a number of songs, he sang in that overwrought way that some singer/songwriters do (including people I really dig), though the majority of the tunes were very lovely. Who knows why we like what we like? The list of good points is quite long, but I just couldn't get into him.

Pixies, the Warfield, May 30, 2005 (late show): Like the Glen Hansard show, this gig coincided with the band's appearance over the Memorial Day weekend at the Sasquatch music festival in Washington state. I skipped the Pixies at the Greek Theater last year because I'm a venue snob, but I couldn't say no to a show at the Warfield. Unfortunately, I adhered to my "last concert" rule and bought tix to the late show, which wasn't scheduled to start until 11:30. Fortunately, I got decent seats, so there was no threat of falling asleep on my feet.

The opener was the Bell-Rays, advertised as "soul-garage." The singer had a hell of a voice, but I'm a big wimp and have never liked that kind of sound. Well, they had a few melodic songs, but the others just sounded fast and loud to me--not that there's anything wrong with that. They were off by midnight.

The Pixies' setup was grouped at the front of the stage, with a huge expanse at the back housing big lighting rigs. It was hard to tell what they were. From the balcony, they looked kinda like metallic sunflowers. Even now I'm not sure what was their purpose on the stage. In other towns, the Pixies have been doing "hits" sets and b-sides sets, and the rumor was that the late show was the hits set. I don't know if this was ever confirmed, but it was fairly hit-heavy, with "Velouria," "Monkey Gone to Heaven," "Head On," and others. The only hit they didn't do was "Here Comes Your Man"--ahhhh, their indie cred has been saved!

I was expecting to feel insanely tired, but my spirits perked up as soon as the music started, and the band sounded great. I'm still surprised by how much I enjoyed the show. And contrary to earlier reports, the band seemed to be in good spirits, actually interacting with each other and acknowledging the crowd. I'm still kinda depressed that I've seen so many reunion shows lately, but it's hard to deny the music you love.

On the taxi ride home, I struck up a conversation with our cab driver, who turned out to be a huge music fan and who was into all the same bands. That was hilarious. And in a true testament to how energized I still felt, I couldn't fall asleep for another hour. Oh well, it's just work.

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.

i'll be out on the town

During my self-imposed blogging siesta from October through January, I went to a lot of great gigs, including an awesome Wilco west coast run in November. I don't think it'd be worth it to post about them now, but I gotta get two of them on the record before I forget.

Britt Daniel, Swedish American Hall, October 29, 2004: The setlist 'cos that's how I roll.

1. Lines in the Suit
2. Beast & Dragon (new song)
3. Mr. Valentin (new song)
4. new song (Delicate Place? it was my favorite of the new tunes--very melodic, great chorus)
5. I Could See the Dude
6. Stay Don't Go
7. They Never Got You (new song)
8. Sister Jack (new song)
9. The Way We Get By
10. new song
11. Minor Tough
12. I Am the Key (La's cover)
13. Metal Detektor
14. Anything You Want
15. I Summon You (new song)
16. Paper Tigers

***encore***
17. Everything Hits at Once
18. Me & the Bean
19. Waiting for the Kid to Come Out

Nothing too surprising here in terms of the setlist, but it was a very solid show, and the admiration flowed from both the audience and the performer. It's hard to say anything about the new songs. I mean, they all sound pretty solid, but they may take on whole new dimensions when the rest of the band is through. My only observation is that they don't sound as spare as the tunes on Kill the Moonlight, and I think Britt may have relied less on his backing tracks for them. Now that I've seen Britt solo a few times, I can say that I'm even more raring to see/hear Spoon live again.

Jon Brion + friends, Largo, November 19, 2004: My awesome cousin Annie volunteered to pick us up from the Wiltern and take us to Largo after the Wilco show. We were pretty tired after 6 days of rock tourism, but I'm so glad my friends decided to humor me and check out this Largo thing for themselves. We made it in time for the second set. The club wasn't too crowded when we got in, and most of us managed to find seats shortly after Jon started playing. Here's my attempt at a setlist:

**Jon Brion solo**
--Summertime
--Get What It's About
--Didn't Think It Would Turn Out Bad
--Let's Stay Together/Running Up That Hill
--I Was Happy with You

**with Glenn Kotche**
--All I Have to Do Is Dream/punk version/Wipeout/God Save the Queen/Just What I Needed/Controversy/Flagpole Sitta/Star Spangled Banner (Hendrix version, with lots of encouragment from Jon for Glenn to extend the drum jam)

**with Glenn, Benmont Tench, Nickel Creek**
--Aqualung (snippet)
--Taxman
--Ain't Misbehaving

Jon started with a wildly distorted one-man version of "Summertime," then proceeded with two songs from the Huckabees soundtrack. The Al Green song was a request from the audience, but the segue into "Running Up That Hill" took us all by complete surprise. "I Was Happy with You" is an unreleased song that Jon has been playing for a while.

During the initial portion of the set, Sam Jones came in with Glenn and Miiri Kotche. They ended up taking the table right in front of us, i.e., the best seats in the house. Glenn was obviously enjoying the set, and I recall very clearly hearing a resounding "Oh shit!" from him as he watched Jon doing the one-man-band thing during "Let's Stay Together." Mind you, my friends and I were in shock too, and I kept telling everyone that they got Jon on a great night.

Not long after, Jon invited Glenn up to the stage. Glenn, ever so modest, didn't realize that Jon was asking for his presence, even as he was calling him by name. At first, they both stood sheepishly on the tiny stage, and Jon informed Glenn that he should take an instrument. Definitely surprised by this development, Glenn opted to go with the drums--a wise choice. Jon stuck to guitar and vocals. Glenn looked very confused at first but managed to keep up with Jon's hairpin turns. Best of all, he got a drum solo during "Wipeout!"

While we were still in shock, Jon invited Benmont Tench and the members of Nickel Creek to form an insta-group. They finished with a couple of great covers. I don't think I stopped smiling for the entire hour. And I haven't even mentioned how a stuffed dolphin toy became a percussive element during at least two points of the set.

Afterward, Glenn told us that he had met Jon at a party at Sam Jones's house just a couple of days earlier and that they had jammed together that night. Still, he had no idea that he would be called upon to play. I hope it won't be the last time he graces Largo with his presence.

See also:
» turn to crystal form
» top 5 Largo memories
» get a load of the lengths I go to

there's a dream that i see

One of these days, I'll call it quits and decide that I can't see any more Cat Power shows. Cat Power, a.k.a. Chan Marshall, is, of course, notorious for her onstage meltdowns and erratic performances. As someone who loves her voice and her songs, I often find myself defending her and claiming that she doesn't deserve that reputation. In fact, of the six shows I've seen, half of them have been just fine and even rapturous. OK, that might not be the best track record, but the good shows have been so amazing that they cancel out the bad. The show tonight was definitely one of her more professional appearances, but I'm not sure that made it a good one.

Cat Power, Swedish American Hall, Feb. 19. 2005: Chan played all by herself this time. She came onstage with a guitar, and a baby grand piano was set to the side. Her first song was on guitar, but she immediately switched to the piano for a long medley. This would turn out to be her modus operandi for the rest of the night: playing numerous songs in a row, switching instruments, then switching back. I could identify only 6 or 7 songs, and I couldn't tell if the others were covers or new songs. Throughout the evening, she also played long instrumental passages, presumably looking for a chord progression or melody that she wanted to sing to. As always, her voice was beautiful and smoky, and the crowd was worshipful, if also a bit confused as to when they could clap or cheer. The songs I recall were: Moonshiner, I Don't Blame You, Maybe Not, He War, Satisfaction. Someone requested Nude as the News, and she started it on guitar but didn't sing it. Someone else shouted out for I Found a Reason, but she claimed to not know how to play it.

Chan's detractors often make fun of her "schtick," and fans such as myself are quick to defend her and her talents. Though I've seen her put on really bad shows, I've also seen her hold the audience's attention and leave them wanting much, much more. Tonight, I'm sad to say, was merely solid. Maybe it had something to do with my crappy seat on the side, but I found myself wanting to check the time frequently throughout her performance. I don't think anyone expects a Cat Power show to be a scripted, by-the-book gig, but even I grew tired of her dawdling.

Right now, if given the chance, I'd probably go see another Cat Power show. But it would be with some reluctance, and I definitely wouldn't recommend the experience to friends unless they were really curious. :(