Tuna delights

I was happy to discover that http://www.hottunatunes.com/ recently posted a recording of the Northampton Hot Tuna concert from this past September 4th. I downloaded it last night and am delighted with the recording.

Loudon Wainwright w/ Carsie Blanton @ The Iron Horse, Thursday, December 4th, 2008

This past Thursday night, Loudon Wainwright paid a visit to the Iron Horse for the best night of music that I’ve had since I arrived in Pioneer Valley back in late June. Only the Ani Difranco and Hot Tuna shows rival what I saw Thursday night. I forgot to bring my glasses to the show, so I was especially glad that I arrived at the Iron Horse early. I was seated very close to the stage.

Loudon was in fine form, but before I write about his performance, there is the small matter of the genius opening act, a little, curly-haired woman named Carsie Blanton. She got on stage at 7:00 sharp and immediately attracted my attention with her poise, her serious expression, and her outfit, which featured a black, knee-length dress and a red top that hugged her curves and showed off a fair amount of cleavage. None of this would matter much to me (I swear) if the performance had fallen flat. But, not only was her voice as sexy as her appearance, but it was also smart, playful, painful, and jaunty. Her guitar-playing was nimble and assured. So, in terms of song-writing talent and lyricism, she resembled the main act. I sense a lot more psychic and spiritual strength in her than in Loudon, though. If she’s been as abused and mistreated as some of her songs suggest, I can understand how that came to be.

The opening song was, I later learned, called “Belle of the Ball,” a statement of purpose pertaining to the mating ritual. If he can’t see that I’m the you-know-what, he can’t be right for me. The hook was the voice, the careful way it cradled the lyrics, and the skillful, jazzy guitar melody. I don’t know exactly how long Carsie Blanton has been doing this, but within 15 seconds of her performance, I was convinced that she was a pro. Nothing that came next made me think anything less. Next came “Buoy” which was a clever series of unfamiliar similes, then “Money in the Bank,” my favorite song of the set, which she introduced as a song that she’d researched by looking up gambling on Wikipedia. Then came the title track to her CD, “Ain’t So Green” and, the most painful song in her set, “Closer to Him.” “Closer to Him” is about the singer’s attraction to angry, abusive men, and the hard lessons learned by acquaintance with them. By the end of her set, I knew that I would be spending money on her CD and on some demos that she mentioned she’d posted on her website….Now, having listened to both demos and the polished CD (from 2005), I think I prefer the demos.

At around 7:45, Loudon Wainwright wandered through the crowded Iron Horse and up on to the stage, to great applause. There was a brief delay as he looked for a place to put his glass of water. First, someone gave him a chair. Then, staff member came up on stage and replaced the chair with a stool. This exchange prompted the performer to laugh and say, “It’s like an Ionesco play—‘The Chair and the Stool!’” From there, he launched into his first song, a charming, upbeat ditty about how much fun it is to cheat on his sweetheart. He played fat chords on the guitar and sang the cheerfully offensive lyrics with a big smile. And away we went.

Like what I remember of the last time I saw Loudon (October of 2001 at the Bottom Line in New York City), this performance was a mixture of old and new material, serious and silly, songs about family and songs about the life of a touring singer-songwriter. His new album is called Recovery (2008) and it consists of rerecorded songs from his first two albums from the early 1970s. He played four or five songs from it, the highlight among them being “Old Friend,” one of the most serious songs I’ve ever heard from him, a song to an old friend about how the friendship has changed: “slap your back I can no longer / I can only shake your hand.” His great autobiographical song, “Westchester County” came second in the set, with its immortal statement of how upper class kids get their kicks: “steal a kiss, cop a feel / off a girl in high heels / we came in our cummerbunds.” Then came a double header of great holiday material, “Thanksgiving” and “Suddenly, It’s Christmas.”

I was impressed by the number of requests he took: “Saw Your Name in the Paper” from the new album, “Red Guitar” on the piano, “White Winos,” “Daddy Take a Nap,” “Daughter,” and maybe one or two others. He announced that the anniversary of his dad’s death was coming up, before performing “A Handful of Dust,” a song his father wrote, and “Surviving Twin,” about his relationship with his father, from the great 2001 album Last Man on Earth. He played two great songs that he wrote for a musical, currently playing in England, about a winning lottery ticket being shared between a black woman and a redneck somewhere in Florida. He played a shattering, painful song about family trauma that was strangely enhanced by the lyrics about his difficulty with playing the piano in any key other than C.

He concluded the performance with a completely straight take on “Have Yourself a Merry Christmas.” I was a bit turned off by that. At the end of the song, he flashed us a big grin and exclaimed, “It’s the new optimism!” It was amusing, I guess, but it still felt like an anticlimactic finish.

I skipped the Chris Smither show Saturday night at the Iron Horse to be with Denise in New York. But this Saturday, I’ll be around to catch The Nields, who putting on a rocking performance at Falcon Ridge this past summer. Expectations are high!

Ani Difranco @ Town Hall, November 21st, 2008; Jack Hardy, Tim Robinson, and Chris Fuller @ The Postcrypt Coffeehouse, November 22nd, 2008

A study in contrasts this past weekend, as two different kinds of performers dominated two different kinds of stages. On Friday night, Denise and I attended the Ani Difranco concert at Town Hall, the first of two nights for Ani at that venue. Saturday night, however, we traded the screaming Difrancophiles and the concert hall for the more quiet, but nearly as passionate folkies at the Postcrypt Coffeehouse of Columbia University for a trio of fine local singer-songwriters: Jack Hardy, Tim Robinson, and Chris Fuller.

The Town Hall show began with Pieta Brown. I learned, several songs into her set, that this was the daughter of the great Greg Brown. She has a lovely singing voice. Rather like the Cowboy Junkies, Denise suggested to me during the set. True, that: you could hear a bit of Margot Timmins in the singing. I don't remember the songs as well. Bo Ramsey played guitar with her. This is a guy who has played with a lot of the greats, from Iris Dement to Lucinda Williams to Greg Brown. I just now went to peruse his website (www.boramsey.com) and I see that he has even played with Ani. Quite a resumé. Anyway, his fills and flourishes were very good. In fact, they were my favorite part of the performance. I think I'd like to see Pieta Brown again, but at a place like the Postcrypt, with a bit more intimacy. I bet she would have been at home in a round robin-style set-up with Jack Hardy and company.

Ani took the stage with energy and excitement, leaping to the front of the stage as she launched into "Little Plastic Castles." Unlike the Ani show I saw up here in Massachusetts back in July, this one really focused on new material. Half a dozen songs from her newest album, Red Letter Year (2008), and several songs that have to appear on an album, along with representative songs from each of the four albums from Evolve to Reprieve. The band was in fine form, with Mike Dillon hammering his percussion devices, Allison Miller pounding away and harmonizing beautifully, and bassist Todd Sickafoose taking a turn at the pump organ at stage left.

The new songs all sounded good; no surprise there. The real surprise was hearing a song about Barack Obama. Has Ani ever written a song that praised an American politician like this? I don't think so. She also complemented the President Elect three songs into the set as she replaced the line about "Tweedledum or Tweedledumber" in "Fuel" with "fucking Barack Obama." Nice touch.

Highlights? I think my favorite moment was the performance of "Nicotine." I've noticed that, not only does the Reprieve album improve every time I listen to it, but its songs improve enormously in concert. I suppose that's true of most of Ani's material, but it's particularly noticeable for Reprieve, an album that I didn't immediately make contact with but now enjoy almost as much as its predecessor, Knuckle Down (2005). Anyway, Ani played the opening chords to "Nicotine" before stopping to fix one of her nails. Then, she resumed playing, as her bandmates accompanied her quietly. It was one of the subtler moments of the performance, and a great one. From the new album, "Present Infant" and "Landing Gear" were particularly good moments too. I had been hoping for "Way Tight," but no such luck.

As I mentioned a moment ago, she played fewer old songs (say, anything before 2000) than she did when I saw her earlier. "Napoleon" came about halfway into the set. "Gravel" ended the set. For the encore, all four musicians took up percussion instruments and played a guitar-free version of "Every State Line," which was very satisfying. Finally, to send us off into the night, "Overlap" from Out of Range (1994).

It was a satisfying show, Denise and I agreed. The crowd was energetic, although it didn't dance, we were sorry to see. But we sang, we cheered, we screamed for our Ani, and she gave up the folk and the funk for around 90 minutes. Ani's songs are good-to-great, but in concert I'm moved by the sound of the band, and this is a real good one. I do miss Andy Stochansky, but the Miller-Dillon-Sickafoose band just keeps sounding better to me. Denise didn't care for Mike Dillon's percussion, and I admit that, the first time I heard him play with her at the Beacon in 2006, I didn't much like his contributions either. But every time I've heard him since, I've liked him more and more. Just the same, the simple fact of the matter is that Ani Difranco is one of a small handful of performers I can think of who absolutely own the stage they walk own. Her guitar playing is a miracle of intensity and precision, and she's one of the most brilliant and talented popular singers I've ever heard. What more do you want?

At the Postcrypt (http://www.columbia.edu/cu/postcrypt/coffeehouse/), on the other hand, all the performers have to work with is songs. There is no sound system, and there is no room for a band. Ani herself played the Postcrypt stage in her early days (May of 1993, according to www.onherown.com), a show I would have loved to have seen. Who shared the stage with her, I wonder? .... Okay, I just checked at the Postcrypt's website: the answer is Amy Correia, a pretty good singer-songwriter in her own right, but not someone I'd put in the same league as Mr. Difranco. At any rate, on Saturday night, there was a round-robin style performance from 9 to midnight.

Denise and I arrived at around 9:40 to find a packed Postcrypt. For the last few years, the fire marshal has been cracking down on the 35-person limit. That's unfortunate. I have a lot of great memories of Postcrypt shows with the room crammed full of 50 or more people, many of them sitting on the floor. This time, Denise and I spent the first half hour or so standing at the doorway. But it was a typical Postcrypt crowd: they were there to hear the songs. They were utterly silent during the performance, except when the songs elicited laughter or singalong moments.

The performers on stage were part of Jack Hardy's crew. As I wrote in a previous post, if you don't know about Jack Hardy and his accomplishments (musical and otherwise), you owe it to yourself to check him out (www.jackhardy.com). On stage left, closest to where Denise and I stood (and, later, sat), sat Chris Fuller who, I believe, is a more recent remember of Jack's songwriting circle. He was good. The standouts were a song about a Mexican woman wrestler and another one called "Get a Room," which was what he demanded of "church and state." Pretty clever. Tim Robinson has been with Hardy for 10 years or more, if I'm not mistaken. Again: a very talented guy. His singing voice is an acquired taste, I've often thought, although Denise approved right from the outset. His stage presence is wry and relaxed.

But Jack was the man I was most excited to see. He performed a number of new songs (included a few that he played before Denise and I arrived, I was told). The ones we heard included "Kansas," the first song we heard him perform that night, and, to close the evening, a song that might have been called "Ask Questions," which was marvelous. In between those two, Jack took some requests, and he treated us to several recent, and a couple of older songs. First came "Johnny's Gone," which was a real delight. It's a favorite of mine, from the album Civil Wars (1994). The recording features a firm, but slow rock beat and an electric guitar solo: not arrangements you usually hear on a Jack Hardy album. Saturday night, however, the man played it solo on the acoustic guitar. If Ani Difranco is a cunning, canny singer, blessed with a plastic, pliable singing voice and a brain that knows how to use it, Jack Hardy is all heart and passion. He can't do the things that Ani can do, but his natural instrument is so beautiful that he can put over his love ballads and political songs and story songs with ease. This is a man who has made a career, an entire lifestyle around songwriting. A week does not pass without him writing a song, and that has been so for over 30 years. His talent is immense. He played "The Bells of San Blas" and "I Oughta Know" (which turned into a singalong), "The Zephyr (Take it Slow)" (also from Civil Wars), and my favorite single moment of the evening, the title track from White Shoes (1981). "White Shoes" is a beautiful ballad and, by the end, the entire audience was singing softly along with the refrain.

It was a sweet Postcrypt homecoming for me. Matt Winters was there, along with his father. Jack Hardy's daughter, Morgan, was there, and she introduced me to Jack, which was cool. I think I recognized a couple of the other older folks in the audience from Postcrypt shows of years past. It felt like home, somehow. Town Hall had felt different. There was a communal feel to both shows, but the communities were quite different. Denise and I went home feeling tired but content.

Chris Smither @ Joe's Pub, November 1st, 2008

This past Saturday night, the great Chris Smither played two shows at Joe's Pub, accompanied, unusually but effectively, by a drummer and a second guitarist (his producer, David "Goody" Goodrich). I was there for the early show, accompanied by the brilliant and beautiful Denise Milstein.

We dined at Joe's Pub too. We had a lovely dinner of Gemelli pasta with spicy sausage, and glasses of a Spanish Crianza that really hit the spot. I left to use the restroom, and I returned just as the man himself took the stage with his bandmates. The last time I was at Joe's Pub to see Chris Smither, that second guitar player was there. But this was the first time I had ever seen him with a drummer. I feared that such an addition to his sound might make his foot-tapping superfluous, but I was wrong. Both he (forgot his name) and Goodrich were unobtrusive contributors. There was no doubt as to whose show this was.

Each of the last few times I've seen him, he's opened with "Open Up" from his most recent album, Leave the Light On (2006), and this time was no exception. From there, he launched into material from his last few albums, beginning with his version of Dave Carter's "Crocodile Man." As Ellen Stanley (https://www.kfai.org/user/28) once remarked to me, this guy's shows don't vary too much, as far as the set lists and overall sound are concerned. But I was particularly glad to hear "Never Needed It More" third in the set, along with "Lola" a bit later. "Love You Like a Man" made an appearance, which made me think happily about the jam on that song with Chris, led by Eddie from Ohio, at Falcon Ridge this past summer. He played two of his more socially/politically cutting songs, both from his most recent album: "Diplomacy" and "Origin of Species." He played "Hold On," his manifesto about freedom, "Drive You Home Again," about selfhood, and "Help Me Now," about solipsism. Denise's favorite was "No Love Today," and the singer preceded it with his imitation of the fruit and vegetable man that he recalled from his childhood in New Orleans. I'm rather partial to that one myself.

The crowd at Joe's Pub was appreciative. There were some calls for "Slow Surprise," and I would have been delighted with that one myself. It's one of my most favorite songs by him, or by anyone else. He talked about his father, remembering his reaction to his son wondering whether he'd go to hell (his father's response: "well, it would not surprise me."), and he was careful to note the songs his mother liked ("Never Needed It More") and disliked ("Lola").

Next up: Richard Shindell @ The Iron Horse....

Erin McKeown @ The Iron Horse, October 11th, 2008

Erin McKeown played to her home crowd on Saturday night. She sounded wonderful. I sensed that life hasn't been especially kind to her lately; she made a few comments that betrayed a bit of sadness. And she told a gripping story about a recent drive from the Valley to New Orleans through Texas, in which she saw the devastation from the latest hurricane. So much of what Erin sings and plays is wrapped in irony, sarcasm, layers of metaphor, and/or some other kind of linguistic tension that the tone of bewildered disappointment that hung over the performance seemed fitting somehow.

The first half of the set was devoted entirely to new material, first on the guitar, and then a ballad at the piano that was probably the highlight of that part of the performance. She finished recording a new album a few weeks ago, and she played six or seven songs that will appear on it. Based on what I heard, I sense that the new album will be a treat, more like Distillation (2000) or We Will Become Like Birds (2005) than Grand (2003), which still doesn't impress me, its high points notwithstanding. I maintain that Distillation is a work of genius, and at some point I'd like to write an essay entirely about that album and why it's so great, and Sing You Sinners (2007) is the easiest album of hers to listen to. In fact, it's playing as I write this. Anyway, the new material sounded jaunty, fun, and, in a couple of cases, tense in the same way that best of Distillation is tense. One song was about a long car ride with someone she wanted to sleep with. The piano ballad sounded almost like Randy Newman, and she introduced it by claiming that it featured some adult language and themes, before muttering into the microphone: "fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck."

After the new song on the piano, she began dipping back into her catalog for more familiar songs. She began with a drawn-out, elegiac version of "James!" from Grand. Then came "Cou Cou" from Sing You Sinners, a song that she introduced as being "very old." Then the guitar came out, and "A Better Wife," "Cinematic," "Rhode Island is Famous for You," and "La Petite Mort" from Distillation to end the set. For the finale, she had us all standing and chanting "oh, Estelle" during the refrain while shaking our fists in the air. It recalled my first experience with Erin McKeown, back at Falcon Ridge 2000, when she was part of the new artists' showcase. To prepare us for the same song, she had us all raise our fists...before reprimanding us: "right now, I should be looking out into a sea of left hands!"

For her encore, she played two more great songs from Distillation. First came "Blackbirds," on the guitar. Then, after saluting the state of Connecticut's recent move toward modern civilization by recognizing gay marriage, "Daisy and Prudence," on the piano.

I should mention that there was an opening act. Mark Geary is an Irish singer-songwriter who is fond of putting his guitar through electronic loops and playing duets with himself. It's a cool effect. Nothing too special in his songwriting, but it was a pleasant way to start off the night. On my way out of the Iron Horse, he was sitting at the bar. We made brief eye contact before I made my way out into the Northampton night.

in other news

Okay, so I've got Erin McKeown coming up this weekend. The following weekend I'll be in NYC, so I'll skip the Crooked Still show. Music essays are currently on hiatus--too much to do!

Randy Newman @ The Calvin Theater, September 28th, 2008

I can't remember the first time I heard Randy Newman. He's one of a handful of performers I learned to listen to properly through reading Christgau's analyses of his albums. I have a bootleg concert recording from Germany, 2004 that I listen to a lot. I had only heard good things about his newest album, and I loved his appearance on the Colbert Report some months ago. So when I saw he'd be at the Calvin, I was curious, and I was rather eager to plop down the cash to see him. My man from Boston, Anthony, came with me.

He hit the stage at 8:00 on the dot and wasted no time by launching into two of my most favorite songs of his: "It's Money that I Love" and "My Life is Good." From there, he took us on a nice, long tour of his cannon. He played almost all the songs from his newest album, Harps and Angels, and, during the second set, he dipped way back to his first album for "I Think It's Going to Rain Today." His new album sounds great. "A Few Words in Defense of Our Country" was a beauty, and so was "Korean Parents," which had the audience in stitches.

But it was his old songs that people came to hear, and he did not disappoint. I didn't keep track of the set list, but he played "Short People" and "Birmingham" and "Louisiana 1927" and "Dixie Flyer" and "Kingfish" and "Have Pity on the Working Man" and "Sail Away" and "Baltimore" and "Last Night I Had a Dream" and "Political Science" (a crowd favorite, which closed the first set) and "In Germany before the War" and "Rednecks" and "You Can Leave your Hat On" and "Marie" (which I found heart-wrenching). He had the audience chant the words "he's dead" and "you're dead" in "I'm Dead But I Don't Know It." That song is from Bad Love (1999), and he also did "I Miss You" from that album. I'd hoped to hear "The Great Nations of Europe." No such luck, but he did play the other great political song from Bad Love: "The World Isn't Fair." Let's see...what else? The "We are the World" answer song, "I Want You to Hurt Like I Do." "I Love L.A."

Seeing this guy play was like seeing someone like Neil Young or Bob Dylan or Joni Mitchell. I was watching a guy who had written so many great songs that he could hardly disappoint. And he was a good enough performer that songs that you might think had worn out their welcome sounded brand new as they were played on stage. The audience was appreciative from beginning to end. Even during the most well-known songs, folks were laughing, like during "Political Science" and "Short People." It occurred to me during "Rednecks" that Randy doesn't seem to have too many black fans. I wonder why...?

If he comes to your town, don't miss him!