way more real than real

Despite appearances on this blog, I haven't lost my enthusiasm for live music, but other priorities come up, and I'm making peace with the idea of not seeing every band that comes through town -- or, more pointedly, necessitates a trip outside of city limits (sigh, but more on that later). In fact, I probably would've skipped Aimee Mann's three-night stand at Yoshi's entirely if it weren't for a friend's visit, so I'm glad for the intervening influence.

Aimee Mann, Yoshi's, October 8, 2010: Those of you on Facebook may have been tagged in the relatively recent meme in which you list your 15 favorite albums in 15 minutes. I did my part, but I still feel pangs of regret over names I missed. High among them: Aimee Mann (and, well, women in general). If I had five more slots, Bachelor No. 2 would be right there!

Despite my brain fart, Aimee easily ranks as one of my favorite songwriters, and her live show has come a long way from her self-proclaimed nervousness of earlier outings. In the right place and with the right players, she really hits her groove. This gig came through on both points. For one, Aimee was joined by Paul Bryan and Jamie Edwards, rounding out the "acoustic Moog trio" she debuted around the time of Smilers. Secondly, the venue suited them beautifully--a proper, intimate room with seated arrangements, fine acoustics, and a loving crowd, not unlike that old place on Fairfax Avenue and, at the least, a far cry from the Arrow Stage at Hardly Strictly Bluegrass.

Setting the scene, a guy in the audience even yelled out, "I live for you!" shortly after Aimee took the stage. Rather than being creeped out, Aimee embraced it. To the fan's credit, who could blame him? Aimee looked fantastic in an ensemble topped by what appeared to be a blazer from Rico's husky boys collection. ("Is that what 'ragazzi robusti' means?")

The heart of this show appeared to be the new material Aimee is writing for a musical based on The Forgotten Arm, her concept album from a few years ago. Among the new titles were a duet with Paul Bryan and another tune she called the most depressing song she's ever written--which is saying a lot, considering her back catalog. If the lyrics are anything to go by, the title of that tearjerker may be something along the not at all forboding lines of "It's Easy to Die."

Another twist on the typical Aimee Mann show was her additional instrumentation--namely, her work on the high hat, operated by foot. With Paul mostly on bass and Jamie on piano and keyboards, Aimee supplemented her contributions on guitar with a touch of percussion. It was a nice embellishment, and it helped replicate the rich sound that's a hallmark of her albums.

In addition to tracks from The Forgotten Arm, Aimee focused on material from the Magnolia soundtrack and Lost in Space. Oddly, nothing from the earliest albums surfaced, which is always a bit of a downer to me, though I loved what I heard too.

If I had to name my favorite Aimee show, it'd be a toss-up between the two gigs I saw at the old Largo: the first one for revealing another side of her live personality, the second for the outright humor. At both shows, the song that became "Medicine Wheel" jumped out at me. At its debut, Aimee mentioned it was an attempt to write a song like Fiona Apple's, but tonight, she talked a little more about its origins as a poem by her sister that she set to music. And just as with that first performance, she started it on piano, but was soon joined by Jamie, who provided the more expansive and mellifluous notes.

In between songs, Aimee talked a lot. Much of the material centered on explaining the new musical, but she got in other fun asides, including a diss on the poetry appearing in The New Yorker and laments about the state of her hair. It's safe to say that Aimee has and continues to evolve as a live performer, one whom I'll enjoy watching for years to come.

See also:
» i'm the stuff of happy endings
» amateur
» today's the day

ascension

After the last month of incredible shows away from home, it feels strangely prosaic to see gigs in my own city again. I recognize all the signs of PCD (post-concert depression), but if any performer can light a fire under me, it's Nels Cline in yet another inimitable combination.

Rova/Nels Cline Celestial Septet, Yoshi's, May 28, 2008: I first heard of Yoshi's while in college at Berkeley. At the time, it was that cool little club over in Rockridge. Since then, it's moved at least once, and now it's anchoring the Fillmore revival. The cousin and I have eyed the spot since it's opened, and there was no doubt who'd be the catalyst that brought me to the space.

The cousin's attendance had other benefits as well. For one thing, she's an actual musician; also, she's logged many nights at jazz clubs. Thus, she was probably more excited than me to see this show, and she filled me in on some of the more technical details of the night, such as what each of the several saxophones onstage could do. (Lesson learned: So that's what Lisa Simpson plays!)

I'm going to try to keep this short before I make a mockery of music blogging in general, but here's a cursory rundown: The familiar trio of Nels Cline, Scott Amendola, and Devin Hoff came together with the Rova Saxophone Quartet to form--drumroll, please--the Celestial Septet.

They started off with a Scott Amendola composition and worked their way through several numbers written by the very musicians onstage. The performance culminated in an as-yet-untitled Nels Cline work, before closing with a John Coltrane piece.

Blogs are all about biases, so it should come as no surprise to learn that my favorite segment was Nels's song. About halfway through this number, things got really interesting, when the group ceded the floor to Scott Amendola and his percussion solo. During this segment, the horn players started dispersing, with one member leaving the stage altogether. This fellow would, in fact, make his way around the room, piping up from time to time, until he rejoined the rest of the saxophonists in front of Scott, the four of them squawking like a gaggle of geese.

The saxophonists, I noticed, took on the role that Nels would normally play in his songs; that is, they offered the discordant and contrary notes that Nels often provides. As a guitarist, Nels's contributions were less prominent, though to his credit, he kept busy directing the others through the course of the song.

After Nels's composition, the Coltrane piece felt almost traditional. Nonetheless, it was a gorgeous reminder of the group's roots and inspiration, especially in contrast to the septet's envelope-stretching excursions.

mask

What a week--on all levels. I have a lot of catching up to do, so let's kick off this jam.

Cryptonight, Yoshi's, May 30, 2006: Paul, Annie, and I made our way to Yoshi's with just enough time to spare before the start of the first set. Living in Northern California, I'm privy to a ridiculous amount of Nels Cline one-off appearances, and I think I've seen many of the different aspects: the Nels Cline Singers, solo, and with Banyan and the Scott Amendola Band. But this show was different. First of all, it was a group of musicians associated with one of Nels's main labels, Crytogramophone. But more important, Alex Cline was playing that night! In fact, I believe Paolo made the trip out West specifically for that reason. As for Annie, she likes jazz and sushi--and how often do you get to combine the two?

Once more, I'll throw it right out there: I know nothing about jazz and only wish that I were underqualified to report. But I can say that we saw an extremely cool show. Two of the highlights for me were an emotional, meditative song called "Solflicka," written by and in memorial to their friend Eric von Essen, and "Mask," by Jeff Gauthier himself. For the latter, Jeff explained that he was inspired by a New Years' Eve spent in Mexico. He had drunk a bit too much tequila, and around midnight, he could hear a radio playing a Billie Holiday song while the local church's bells rang out. Incredibly, the band incorporated both elements, most notably in Alex Cline playing the gongs (!) to convey the church bells.

For the last two numbers, they brought on three horn players and Scott Amendola to perform a couple of Herbie Hancock pieces. As a child of the '80s, I only know "Rockit" when it comes to Herbie, so there was no way I was prepared for the wondrous cacophony and celebration that followed.

Nels, as always, was in fine form, showing his vast range of talent and formidable mastery of styles. He's a national treasure :)

See also:
» and when you touch down
» in the beginning, we closed our eyes
» I hear you sing a golden hymn
» smarty pants
» Nels nights

smarty pants

I didn't get the call from Largo. But I'm going anyway.

Scott Amendola Band, Yoshi's, October 5, 2005: I'm in over my head, out of my element, whatever other cliche you want to throw at me. I'm a pop girl at heart touching upon other genres because of the presence and contributions of certain musicians.

I've seen Scott Amendola with the Nels Cline Singers, of course, as well as with Carla Bozulich's band for a striking version of "Masters of War" at the Fillmore last year. With the Singers, he's an amazing player, and I was curious to see how he and Nels might flip the frontman role in their eponymous bands. Lucky for me, Maudie and Trish wanted to investigate as well.

The Scott Amendola Band included John Shifflett on bass and Jenny Scheinman on violin, as well as the two aforementioned fellows. My only point of reference for Scott's music is his work with the Singers, and from the outset, this seemed to be a notably different affair. Sure, there were long, abstract passages marked by Nels's frenetic guitar licks, but overall, the music was much more melodic. Jenny matched Nels note for note on many sections, and they exchanged visual cues throughout the night. If there were an equivalent of a lead singer, it would've been the violin. Every time she played a longer passage, the violin seemed to control the stage; even Nels's guitar took a backseat to it. Also, Nels played a surprisingly prominent role in the group--not as much as he does with the Singers, but he counted off transitions within many of the songs. Scott himself got only one drum solo, though this is ostensibly his band. Highlights of the performance were a Mahalia Jackson song, as well as the penultimate tune, featuring Nels on lap steel, backed by a sexy, subtle beat.

In the last year, I've had many chances to see Nels in a variety of capacities: the Nels Cline Singers, Banyan, and now the Scott Amendola Band, not to mention Wilco. If I were a better music fan, I might have picked up some knowledge over the course, but in my singlemindedness, the biggest lesson I've learned is that Nels is the coolest cat ever. You really have to see how he handles the different levels of leadership and contribution, depending on the band. And in the process, he always retains his own style. I'm even more determined to make it to Largo on November 3, come hell or high water.

See also:
» i'll be back again
» i like jon brion. a lot. (part 1)
» Nels night