Jens Leckman/The Honeydrips; March 30, 2008; Old Music Hall

Funny how things work. After not having been to the Barrymore in months I was there two nights in a row. I hadn’t been to a show in the Old Music Hall, located on campus at the bottom of Bascom Hill for years, and yet here I was a second time this weekend (the previous day I had come to watch the live broadcast of Michael Feldman’s Whad’Ya Know featuring the only band that matters, Blueheels). They frequently feature campus theater productions here, but I had to wonder why they don’t have more concerts. It’s a spacious room with good sightlines, and despite its age still quite dignified. In fact, my only complaint was that it was far too warm, and that combined with a comfy seat and an insanely long wait between opener and headliner, I occasionally found it hard to keep my eyes open.

The last time I had seen Leckman he was entertaining a field full of people at the Pitchfork festival in Chicago. While I object to almost everything about the pretentious music tastemaker’s website, from their condescending reviews to their we’re always right attitude, they do a pretty good job selecting the acts for their annual festival. On that day, Leckman’s sunny pop was perfectly matched to the day and to his all female backing band, complete with horn section, all clad in white. Apparently he didn’t have quite the budget for this tour and had to leave the horn section at home. Instead his pair of string players (one of them Madison’s own Marla Hansen) and rhythm section were joined by the only other male on stage, a flamboyant dude working the laptop (which filled in for those missing horns among other things). So over-the-top was his performance that it was hard not to watch him.

Leckman however did an excellent job keeping our attention on him. Not only was the set full of ridiculously catchy tunes, he was also a wry storyteller with an excellent sense of humor. When he pulled out an odd looking stringed device he explained that it was an African folk instrument. He then told us how inevitably as he passes through security as he travels he is questioned about it, when they doubt his story they look it up on Wikipedia. Confirmation of its existence is usually followed by a search for “Jens Leckman.” It’s amusing, and more than a little troubling that our nation’s security hinges on a user written Internet encyclopedia. Another amusing story preceded “Nina, I can’t Be Your Boyfriend.” An old friend had invited him to visit her and just before they went to her parents’ house for dinner, she informed him that they were engaged. Despite wanting to help her out, he decided he couldn’t serve as her cover story so her parents wouldn’t suspect she was a lesbian.

He returned for the encore to do a solo song before breaking out the dance-inducing “Candy Cane,” which had every one on their feet. The first to jump up was super fan who had come from who knows where for the show, and Jens greeted him warmly. He was also the first to participate in the airplane dance, which seemed odd until the band also joined in. I had hesitated to go to this show, but a pair of free tickets from the Onion convinced me. Thanks Onion, it was pretty cool.

Oddly named opener the Honeydrips, a fellow Swede, turned out to be just one guy. He took the stage precisely at 8 with a guitar around his neck and a laptop in hand. He plugged in the laptop and proceeded to sing along with the prerecorded tracks on it for the next four or five songs without touching the guitar. “I don’t need the guitar for this one,” he claimed before setting it on a stand and finishing without it. A bit like the Magnetic Fields without the charm, he was at least entertaining until he finished his set with two overly dramatic songs sung in Swedish. No worries, Jens had charm enough for both of them.

Blueheels on Whad'ya Know?; March 29, 2008; Old Music Hall

Stars/Martin Royale; March 28, 2008; Barrymore Theater

Gary Louris/Mekons; March 27, 2008; Barrymore Theater

It was a tough decision, the Weakerthans at the High Noon, Dietrich Gosser at Café Montmartre or this show. I’d wanted to see the Weakerthans ever since listening to marathon amounts of their smarter than Fountains of Wayne pop in Michelle’s car, and any time I get to see Dietrich is a treat, but ultimately the memory of the Mekons’ laugh-so-much-it-hurts show at the Pabst last fall won out. For the second half of this interesting double bill, former Jayhawks leader Gary Louris took the stage with his backing band Vetiver. When Louris decided to make a stop in Madison, the local promoter gave him the choice of which bill he wanted to be on. I’m guessing Louris has seen the Mekons before.

Jon Langford is always an entertaining performer, whether playing with one of his numerous side projects or as the interesting half of the Waco Brothers, but it is with the Mekons that he really seems to let it all hang out. Sometimes a little too literally. Demonstrating more energy and endurance than I would have guessed he had, he danced like a maniac for the entirety of a song, somehow managing to not sound winded when he took a break from his hip hop inspired flailing. Not only were his quick moves on display, but also his quick wit. After Sally mentioned “mice in their embroidered waistcoats” (which has to be code for something), Langford claimed that he was going to have to go masturbate. While the comment made most of us uncomfortable, it caused one woman (who had to be about 50 and old enough to know better) to yell “I’ll help you!” Nonplussed, Langford quipped, “Mom? I told you to wait in the van.”

Just as they were in Milwaukee back in November, the band sat in a semi-circle on stage with a single microphone at the front of the stage. Langford claimed initially that it was a monument to a member who had died, but it soon became obvious that it was a spotlight area where a member could step forward to perform. In addition to Langford’s version of “So You Think You Can Dance,” Sally and Lou also stepped to the front. At one point the four men all moved to the mike while the women were dismissed. Sally of course refused to go, and could be seen covering her eyes for much of their overblown sing-along. As much as Langford was the amusement highlight, it is always Sally who is the vocal highlight, especially on the swaying “Wild and Blue.” Her perfect country voice, high and clear, is even more surprising given her salty mouth.

The Mekons are a tough act to follow, and I wasn’t sure Louris was going to be able to do it. In fact, I’m not sure he thought he was going to be able to either, but he surprised me with a solid set drawn from the Jayhawks decade plus career and his solo record. Assisting him in this mission was his backing band Vetiver, who was also his opening band on other stops. The Vetiver boys could have been the Jayhawks fifteen years ago, scruffy looking and totally adorable, and a killer band. Predictably, the crowd got most excited over the classics from “Tomorrow the Green Grass” and “Hollywood Town Hall” (always my two favorites) like the aching “Blue” and the hopeful “Waiting for the Sun,” while the newer material was less pedantic than it seems on CD.

Sure, those other shows would have been great too, but I recall a note I made to myself from the last show, never miss a chance to see the Mekons, especially when they are playing with someone like Gary Louris who beat the hell out of Danbert Nobacon.

Black Mountain/Birds of Avalon/Nordic Nomadic; March 23, 2008; High Noon Saloon

It is strange for me to see a show that I am completely ambivalent about. Usually I love it (most of the time) or am disappointed in something I expected to love. I didn’t expect to love Black Mountain the first time I saw them, I went based on the recommendations of friends and the Onion. I recall being amused by Ladyhawk who said they “would totally party with us,” and thinking that middle band Blood Meridian was my favorite of the night, but I don’t remember much about Black Mountain.

I do know there certainly weren’t near as many people as were here tonight. Almost 300 people (290 according to the door guy) were on hand for this show on Easter Sunday. That would be a good crowd on a weekend, for a Sunday it was pretty damn impressive. It isn’t surprising that there wasn’t anything memorable about the show, because once again I can’t come up with any details about Black Mountain’s set. There was no witty banter or stand-out tune, just a good show by a tight band. In fact the only truly noteworthy feature was the distinctive vibrato of vocalist Amber Webber who I couldn’t decide whether to love or loathe.

The honor of being my favorite act of the night went to opener Nordic Nomadic. His spare and haunting songs brought to mind Neil Young’s mellower stuff and also local band A Catapult Western to whom I mad a similar comparison. Unfortunately I got there late and missed half of his short opening set. I had high hopes for the Birds of Avalon from what I had read about them sounded like my thing, and it seems I always like bands with birds in the name (Lesser Birds of Paradise, the Wrens). I guess I forgot about the Bower Birds who had bored me to tears opening for the Mountain Goats. Birds of Avalon certainly weren’t boring, they had energy to spare. There was more action from lead singer Craig Tilley’s curls than there had been in the opener’s whole set, but it all seemed so generic and unoriginal. Some people say that there is no original music anymore, that it has all been done before, the Birds apparently believe that.

This Bright Apocalypse; March 19, 2008; High Noon Saloon

This Bright Apocalypse, or TBA (yeah, pretty awesome huh?), is better than any band with three drummers could be expected to be. Of course, if they all just sat around playing drums that would not be the case. Instead two-thirds of them play something other than their main instrument most of the time. Blueheels drummer Adam Cargin is a surprisingly good guitar player, though I am not sure when he has the time to practice given his main band’s busy schedule. Lead singer Luke Bassuener picked up the bass just for this band, and his simple playing blends well with the percussion oriented songs. Chris Sasman on the other hand gets to be the drummer who actually sits at the drum kit

Even though two of them have guitars in their hands, that doesn’t mean they aren’t contributing to the percussion, in fact that is exactly what makes this band so interesting. Adam has a small bass with a foot pedal that he uses, while Luke occasionally pounds a handheld African style drum, and all three take their turn at a larger hand drum. All that pounding wouldn’t work near as well as it does if all the members weren’t so percussively oriented. The time that Luke has spent in Africa influences their sound as well as their lyrics. His impressively strong voice has the familiarity of a big radio band (for some reason Live comes to mind, and that’s not an insult, that guy can belt it) while the rest of their sound is decidedly outside the mainstream.

They recently completed work on their second CD which they recorded with the ridiculously talented Jeremiah Nelson (Patchwork), but its release date is uncertain at this time. I have to hope that these guys will continue to find time for this band in addition to all their other projects, because this one is definitely worthwhile.

Goat Radio/the Sigourney Weavers; March 15, 2008; Crystal Corner

You never know what will inspire Goat Radio. Instead of the rock and roll standards of girls and cars, their songs are about Midwestern towns (“Gary, Indiana”), characters from epic works of fiction (“Arriza”) or off-hand remarks made by rock legends like John Doe (“Barmaid”). Even a song that sounds like it should be about a girl, “Nadine,” is actually about a long gone, largely unknown St Louis band. The end of 2007 saw most of those songs finally released on CD, which meant their fans could finally hear those songs outside of their seemingly infrequent shows. It also gave us a chance to hear what they had been working on since their inception two years before, though it seemed they hadn’t gotten serious about it till their line-up solidified over a year ago.

Guitarist Don Moore and journeyman bass player Jack Rice proved to be the final pieces to what had been a constantly shifting line-up for their first year of existence. Original members, powerhouse drummer Tony Bitner and bass player turned lead singer/guitarist John Weidenhoeft, seemed to have been waiting patiently for their arrival. Of course, any Goat Radio show is better when Peter Fatka guests on pedal steel, and we were lucky to have him tonight. I agree with Michelle that he should be in every band. Much of tonight’s crowd seemed to be here for headliners the Motor Primitives, but they seemed to enjoy Goat Radio’s energetic and entertaining set. Their cover of Lucinda Williams’ “I Lost It” was especially well-received, not to mention completely unexpected. A few folks I knew who hadn’t seen them in a couple years were duly impressed.

I couldn’t quite stay out late enough to make it till the Primitives set (sorry guys, rough week) but I felt like I had kinda sorta seen them after seeing openers the Sigourney Weavers. I’m tempted to say the name was the best thing about them (c’mon, it is pretty cool), but that’s not quite true. The coolest thing was that the two girls in the coed band were the ones playing the guitars. MP lead singer Pam Barrett and the lead guitarist (formerly of the Getaway Drivers) proved that girls can definitely rock. Always impressive drummer Robin Davies also pulled double duty behind the kit as part of the band. I didn’t mind them, but I can’t lie, I was really just there for the Goat.

The Runners Up/ The Shabelles; March 14, 2008; High Noon Saloon

Even though the Runners Up have been a band for more than two years, they just got around to releasing their first CD. And it was worth the wait. Their self-titled release contains 14 songs and lasts just a little more than half an hour, but it is a ridiculously entertaining thirty minutes. The songs should be familiar to anyone who has seen the Runners Up more than once; in fact several of the songs had a life before RU. Tonight’s set opener and the first song on the record “James Brown with Two Heads” was an Aunt Goodness (Erika Lozier’s alter ego) song before the band even existed. A dual headed Godfather of Soul is meant as the ultimate compliment after other comparisons fall short, because “you guys are better than that.”

In fact, they could just as easily been talking about themselves the charming dual lead combination of Lozier and Bob Koch. Her voice has a sassy edge that reminds me of the short list of other girl singers I like (The Reputation’s Elizabeth Elmore and Rainer Maria’s Caithlin DeMarrais are comparisons I’ve used in the past), while his curiously high voice compliments hers surprisingly well. In addition to “James Brown,” her other winning contributions include “Spelling Bee” and “Red Faced,” both of which have a sweet, real-life feel to them. Koch has his own true story, “Vandalized Regal,” which finds him growing increasingly paranoid after his car was vandalized outside of Mickey’s. “Do I have to watch my back, should I fear a sneak attack?” he wonders. For the doubters, there is a picture of the damage on the back cover of the CD. His “Missouri,” with its clever chorus of “you’re in Missouri and I’m in misery,” had to be a holdover from the Super Eights whose songs about states were a good part of their charm.

For most of the set bassist James Leaver only needs a microphone to call for shots of vodka and to contribute backing vocals. Boyishly enthusiastic and completely adorable, his love of playing is apparently only matched by his recently realized love of Tito’s vodka. Starting most sets with a shot makes his “He’s a Holic” (as in alcoholic I believe) somewhat ironic. I’ve always enjoyed his song, but for some reason this is the first time I noticed how much it sounds like an Elvis Costello song (according to everyone else in my group, I’m the last one to notice). From his resonant voice to a tune reminiscent of “Angels Want to Wear my Red Shoes” and “Radio Radio,” the resemblance is striking. And that is quite a compliment indeed.

Equally entertaining are the Shabelles, Adam Schabow’s quirkily intriguing outfit. I was disappointed that their energetic anchor drummer Daphna Ron was absent, but her replacement was impossible to find fault with. He won me over by starting the set with a public service announcement stating his availability to fill in for any drummer who needs a break. His list of credentials had me convinced he could in fact fill in for anyone. The Shabelles set of favorites started off with my favorite, the happy-sounding sad story “Riding my Bike.” Slowed down and reworked with a jazzy feel, this version makes better use of Ropin’ Rodeo Nate’s sax talent. In fact they seemed to have worked on a lot of things since the last time I saw them, the songs were tighter and the harmonies even better than usual. They even added a cover I hadn’t heard them do before, the Violent Femmes “I Held Her in My Arms,” a perfect choice for a band that has been perfecting their own unique brand of pop punk for awhile now.

Jonathan Richman/Vic Chesnutt; March 13, 2008; Orpheum Stage Door Theater

I first fell in love with Jonathan Richman after seeing him singing in a tree in the raunchy but hilarious “Something about Mary.” I had known the name for years, but it wasn’t until that moment that I witnessed the charm of his live performance. Since then I have seen him a number of times, most notably a pair of shows in Germany during my first trip to Europe, and he never fails to entertain. His perennial sad sack demeanor belies his hopeful view on love and happiness.

There seems to be no shortage of things that make him happy. “Springtime in New York” is one of those things. A listing of everything that make the city special, including its flaws, the song has been part of the set list at every show that I can remember. The same is true of “Give Paris One More Chance,” which he prefaced this time with the story of how he didn’t like the city on his first visit, but he took his own advice and now it is one of his favorite places to visit. He also included a long-winded story about a prescient dream he had before that first trip, a story which didn’t really seem to go anywhere in particular. In fact several parts of his set seemed a little confused. There were definitely verses missing from the audience sing-a-long favorite “I Was Dancing in the Lesbian Bar,” while some songs seemed made up right then. Other times he seemed to forget the words to songs, calling on his drummer Tommy Larkins to fill in the space with a drum solo.

Tommy has been his drummer for as long as I can remember- he even joined him in the tree in the movie. He has switched from his stand-up kit to a sit-down version since I last saw him; I’m guessing the better to see Jonathan with. He seems to have learned to keep up with Richman’s unpredictability by never letting him out of his sight. One never knows when Jonathan will put down his guitar to execute a series of signature dance moves (perfectly imitated by Nick Luca and band in my basement during their cover of “Lesbian Bar”). He ended his set without an encore, coming back only to thank us again and explain that his doctor told him not to talk too much after his shows lest he have a relapse of the vocal chord problems he had before.

Vic Chesnutt was the opener the last time Jonathan and Tommy came to town, and he seems to have gotten even smaller since then. Watching Chesnutt is always a slightly uncomfortable experience. Confined to a wheelchair since a car accident many years ago left him paralyzed from the waist down, Chesnutt still tours frequently and he does seem to enjoy this particular bill. The pessimist to Jonathan’s eternal optimist he takes every opportunity to poke fun at him. In a song that seemed even more made up on the spot than any from the headliner, he called him “his songwriting idol” and claimed that while Jonathan may smell urine in an alley and “thank the world for showing him that,” he says “get those molecules out of my nose.” In fact the only song that actually seemed premeditated and not one of the “chopping broccoli” type was one that was written for the band Brut, a collaboration with another band. A series of parallel verses about your “gray-haired granny,” “your morally challenged sister” and other amusing relatives who hail from a variety of places in the south, the amusing though slightly offensive tune was the highlight of his set.

While both were undeniably entertaining, every couple years is about as often as I need to see them.

The Gutter Twins/Great Northern; March 9, 2008; High Noon Saloon