Goat Radio/Linda; February 17, 2008; High Noon Saloon

When Goat Radio played the Last Band Standing a month ago they certainly didn’t sound like a band that hadn’t played out in months. Seeing them tonight I wasn’t sure they’d gotten together since then. Usually a tight group, they seemed just a little bit off. Not that it really matters; I always adore them and have missed them during their extended absence. Sloppy Goat Radio is always better than no Goat Radio.

Some of that has to do with the boys themselves. Their always smiling force-of-nature drummer Tony Kanale and their charmingly gregarious bassist Jack Rice are two of the most genuine people I know, I can’t help but smile when I’m around them. The rest of it has to do with the infectious straight up rock and roll they play. Songs like “Nadine,” not about a girl, but instead about the former St Louis band of the same name, and “Gary, Indiana” come off like classic rock songs that somehow you’ve just never heard before. It isn’t hard to imagine a John Mellencamp song coming on next, though it would probably be from the days when he still went by Cougar.

It had probably been more than a year since lead singer John Wiedenhoeft had written “Barmaid,” about a case of mistaken (gender) identity, the only new song to become part of their set since the batch that became their debut record. Or will, if they ever get the cover art done and officially release it. But recently he’s apparently written a whole batch of new songs… and according to him they all sound like Bob Dylan. While I think that is a decidedly good thing, Wied seems less sure, and the most recent tune he’s penned is called “Killing Dylan,” about “Bob Dylan as a zombie” according to his post-song explanation. It came off a little rough in its public debut, but it definitely has potential.

This was my second happy hour show with opener Linda, and as far as I know it was just their second show ever. Featuring ridiculously talented guitarist Peter Fatka, who plays pedal steel with Goat Radio, Linda is sort of a one trick pony, luckily it is a good trick. Their lead singer doesn’t quite sing as much as she recites, which leads to a hypnotic sing-songy and admittedly samey quality to many of their tunes, reminding me of a slightly awkward Morphine in a higher register and without the honking saxophone. As she gets more comfortable with the songs and on stage, she may be ready to move out from behind the keyboard which is plunked occasionally. I couldn’t listen to them all night (like I could Goat Radio), but they certainly didn’t wear out their welcome tonight.

Superband; February 13, 2009; Malarkey’s, Wausau

There’s been a push lately to find a better name for the group consisting of singer/songwriters Blake Thomas, Jeremiah Nelson, Josh Harty and drummer Chris Sasman. While accurate, Superband isn’t exactly the most ingenious name ever, so recently alternatives have been nominated and discarded. Rejects thus far include the Severed Levers and Chris Sasman & the Blackouts. I was a little partial to that last one, but my current favorite is the Forty Finger Circus. Anyone who thinks that name isn’t accurate hasn’t seen them in this configuration, especially at the end of the night.

Tonight though, they were known as Patchwork. A name usually reserved for Jeremiah’s music, it was used previously at Malarkey’s when he had the gig booked and no band to play with him. I’m sure the bar’s gregarious owner was a little confused as to why despite his encouragement they never said the name of the band, instead introducing each individually. The night certainly started respectably enough. Rather than having each songwriter front a set per usual, they opted instead to have each of them play several songs per set. Blake Thomas’s opening songs were typically gorgeous. This may not be his dream band (a group of guys he has only played with twice), but it may be my favorite band to see him with. “Tip of Your Tongue” can be monotonous solo, but it gained momentum with a band, while “Anyone Tonight” was slowed from its original peppy tempo to a more somber waltz.

Jeremiah’s recent shows with the four piece Mysterious Bruises have been some of my favorites. The violin and upright bass are the perfect instruments for his newest songs, a collection of smart, Dylanesque tunes. While Dylan’s “I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight” was one of the songs he included in his set tonight, that’s where the similarity between the bands end. Most of the songs he chose were older, ones recorded under the Patchwork name, and they were anything but folky. “Spaceships” turned into a lengthy jam with Josh positively wailing on the electric guitar and Chris a force of nature on the drums. The screamed call and response during “Running from the Fuse” always seemed a little too aggressive for the Bruises refined taste, but it seemed perfect for this band.

Of the three, Josh’s songs are the ones that benefit the most from the band treatment. I’ve seen him with bands before but they seemed too assembled and didn’t do his songs justice. “What About You” has been reworked into something much more sinister than its original form, while the extra long instrumental intro and outro to “Home” make his last record’s best song even more intense. It may have been his well received cover of “Trudy” in the second set, or it maybe it was the whiskey, but somehow the third set turned into mostly covers. I was enjoying their original material even more than usual, so when they started the last set with “Superstitious” I knew it was trouble.

Blake’s “Billie Jean” and “9 to 5” are highlights of any Classic Tawnies show, but I could probably do without Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger” just fine, at least until Josh learns all the verses. However, it was Skynyrd’s “Gimme Three Steps” that led to the “penalty shots” from the bar. They all looked pleased about another round of shots, until Tyler informed them that they were tequila instead of the whiskey they were expecting. Apparently he was being nice, usually he pours rail gin. To be fair, despite the owner’s disapproval and Jeremiah’s annoyance, their last set had more people up dancing than any other point all night, and that had to make them happy, even if the tequila didn’t.

This Bright Apocalypse; February 12, 2009; Cafe Montmartre

Rhett Miller/Joe Pug; February 7, 2009; Majestic Theater

Maybe he says that to all the girls, but Rhett Miller sure seems to love Madison. The native Texan has all the requisite pride associated with hailing from the Lone Star state, but he still seems to have some affection to share. The greatest thing about Texas is Austin and he claims “the closest thing to Austin is Madison, WI,” during the mutual love fest that went on during his high energy show at the converted movie theater. While the large crowd chattered incessantly during opener Joe Pug’s Dylan-inspired set, loud enough to make me want to find Pug after the show and apologize, they hung on Rhett’s every word.

Of course, that didn’t mean they were actually quiet. A few felt the need to try to converse with him, while others just sang along at the top of their lungs to every single song. I was impressed that the guy standing right behind us knew all the words to “Stoned” from the Old 97’s bar setting first record Hitchike to Rhome, much less so when he also knew everything from the solo records. It’s hard to believe that the same guy who wrote the clever line “The Empty Bottle was half empty,” (from the smart song featured tonight “Barrier Reef” on the outstanding record Too Far to Care) is also responsible for the pap that populates his solo releases The Believer and The Instigator. To be fair, I only bought the first of those before realizing there was a reason the Old 97 didn’t record those songs. I find I prefer the Old 97’s candor and the leveling presence of bassist Murray Hammond, the Lennon to Rhett’s McCartney. Having said that I should mention that I didn’t really like their last record Blame It on Gravity either.

Still, Rhett live is a whole ‘nother matter. The title song to the last band record was improved immensely by his electric presentation, while most of the solo material seemed less ridiculous when played with some spit and a whole lot of sweat. Despite being a pretty boy, a very pretty boy, he isn’t afraid to put everything into a show or even to look a little silly. “Fireflies” recorded as a duet always stands out from the rest of the solo material, is still presented as a two part song, even though he was the only one on stage. “When I sing from the right side,” he instructed us, “I’m a girl, and when I sing from the left I’m me.” Somehow he kept his sides straight.

Every time I see him the balance shifts a little more from the stellar material of the Old 97’s first three releases to their later and his solo material. Still, when he does that windmill from the elbow down thing, hips swiveling, hair plastered in ringlets to the side of his face, shirt heavy with sweat, those big eyes blinking the salt away, a goofy grin on his face, it is hard, nay impossible, to resist him. I don’t even know why I try.

Los Campesinos!/Titus Andronicus; February 6, 2009; Der Rathskellar

A review for the Daily Page, read it here
http://www.thedailypage.com/daily/article.php?article=25052

Cracker/Pieta Brown; February 5, 2009; High Noon Saloon

David Lowery and Johnny Hickman have always been the identifiable face of Cracker. They do all the singing and all the sweet guitar licks; I just wasn’t sure how well they could pull off a Cracker show as a duo. “It’s just going to be the tow of them acoustic,” I cautioned my friend Oliver, “I’m not sure how much it will rock.” Turns out that if I were the rhythm section for Cracker I would be a little worried about my job security. “We’re playing tomorrow night in Palatine with the full band,” Lowery said at the end of their very entertaining and surprisingly thorough set. All I could think was “why?”

Despite being advertised as such, it wasn’t completely unamplified. Lowery banged away on an acoustic while Hickman tore it up on electric pretty much non-stop. The last several records were underrepresented, the most glaring omissions being 2002’s Forever with all its songs about monkeys and 03’s terrific country covers record Countrysides. In fact so much of the set list came from their first three records that it might as well have been billed as “Cracker the Early Years.” Not that I’m complaining, hearing songs so evocative of the “alternative rock” years of the 90’s re-imagined by the duo proved that they held up better than most music of that era. They wasted no time getting a few of the “hits” out of the way. “Teen Angst” followed an unfamiliar opener, with “Eurotrash Girl,” originally aggravatingly hidden on Kerosene Hat, not far behind.

Having satisfied the hits quota, they delved deep into their self-titled record. I hadn’t heard the humorous “Dr Bernice” before, but found my self smiling at lines about the fakery of the title character. “Baby don't you drive around with Dr. Bernice. That ain't a real Cadillac. It's a delta 88 spray painted black with fake leather seats from Juarez,” and “she’s not a lady doctor at all, she’s got hands like a man with hair on the back,” make you wonder what the good doctor actually is up to. Other favorites from that record included “St Cajetan,” “Mr. Wrong,” and, very appropriately since it was Oliver’s birthday, “Happy Birthday to Me”

I was hoping Hickman would bust out his infectious “Lonesome Johnny Blues” but instead we got the dreary “Here Comes Another Song About the Rain” (also from their debut). That was just about the only thing tiresome he could be accused of, the rest of the set he was killing on guitar, dueting with Lowery on a decidedly not cheesy song about the kind of friends they are, and flirting with everyone in the front row, flashing his charming smile. Not only was the duo show just as good as a band show, it may have been even better. The sound was stunning and the set list exceptional. In fact I had forgotten all about what was perhaps their biggest hit. They had taken off the guitars and were about to leave the stage a second time, when Lowery leaned into the mic, “Um, we forgot one,” before hitting the first notes of “Low.”

You know, the set was so good I think we all had forgotten about it.