I’d first seen Hamell on Trial, Ed Hamell’s one man show on speed, more than ten years ago, the opening act for Moxy Fruvous at Shank Hall. It’s hard to recall that time, but back then being on someone’s mailing list meant you gave them your address and they actually sent a card to your house when they were going to be near your town or had news to share. I admire folks like the Saw Doctors who still use that method, and it does catch your attention more than being one of many e-mails you get every day.
Hamell didn’t look much different then than he does now, bald head, thick rimmed glasses, intense stare, hands moving so fast they’re a blur, and yeah, a little scary looking. “I finally figured out why no one signs up for my mailing list,” he bemoaned, “they think I am going to come to their house and kill them.” I’ve seen him many times since then, and somewhere along the line I did get on his mailing list, his e-mail list that is. When the most recent began, “Did you know Hamell loves to play house concerts?” I thought, “What a coincidence, I love to host house concerts.” I e-mailed his booking agent immediately and by the end of the day we had a confirmed show (I wish all bookers were this easy to deal with).
A surprisingly good-sized crowd for a Wednesday night had gathered by 8 pm. Many had seen Hamell before; those that hadn’t couldn’t possibly have known what they were in for. For eighty or so minutes Hamell spewed songs and jokes, some off-mike, some on, without seeming to take a breath. He seemed to take great delight in the fact that I have designated the music played at the house “righteous” and measured every joke on a scale of whether or not it was righteous enough. It always surprises me that I enjoy him as much as I do. After all, he’s unapologetically offensive and unrepentantly profane. Maybe it is because he is so intelligent about all of it. He doesn’t just tell you to blow off Pat Robertson’s head; he gives you a clear and convincing argument why it needs to be done.
Of the people who had seen Hamell before, many of them thought this was the best show they’d seen him do, while those who hadn’t left looking awestruck.
Sleeping in the Aviary’s Phil Mahlstadt, who performs under the name inBOIL and opened tonight’s show, was definitely one of the latter. “I felt like Vic Chestnut on the Vic Chestnut/Jonathan Richman tour,” he confided to me after the show, referring to the show the two had played at the Stage Door, and I laughed at the perfect analogy. While both performers were terrific that night, Vic sang the slow, depressing songs, while Jonathan had the crowd laughing.
Coming up with an opener for one of the most unique artists I’ve seen wasn’t easy. Seemingly the shyest of the Aviary boys, Phil was the last to have a side project of his own. It’s hard to believe it took him this long since he already has a remarkable catalog of songs. I was impressed with their insight and intelligence, even as they broke my heart. Elliot came along to play keyboards and also did a pair of his own water themed songs, both of which involved gurgling beer. Um, charming. They opted to go unplugged rather than using the PA. With stocking footed Elliot (he claims not wearing shoes while playing makes him feel more at home) sitting on the floor while Phil perched on the edge of a folding chair, they seemed so vulnerable.
Their lightheartedly titled new release “If We Bury You Ass Up, at Least I’ll Have a Place to Park my Bike” comes courtesy of yet another project, The Southside Cemetery Singers. A charming DIY package made from cardboard and duct tape houses a hand-labeled burned CD, whose songs were all written in a cemetery (hence the depressing songs). And it is good stuff. The untitled last track is perhaps the best of them, as its last verse chillingly claims, “you know that somebody’s dead, a list of names goes through your head like your caller ID just says death.” Shivers.
After seeing Sleeping in the Aviary’s recent release “Expensive Vomit in a Cheap Motel” named as one of Magnet Magazine’s 10 Hidden Treasures from 2008, I can’t help but think they are bound for bigger things. I’m going to miss them.
No comments:
Post a Comment