Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Peter Mulvey/Pamela Means; February 20, 2011; Kiki’s House of Righteous Music
With the political climate in Madison these days, I expected the liberal and very vocal Peter Mulvey to expound on his opinion of the chaos in Wisconsin, especially because he had stopped at the Capital on the way to the house to see his brother and father who were protesting. Instead, he told jokes, which was probably the right thing to do. With how volatile things are these days as the governor tries to force through a very unpopular budget repair bill, it is probably better to let the fire smolder rather than fan the flames. Besides, his jokes are funny, and, as a bonus, I hadn’t heard most of them before.
Opener Pamela Means, also from Milwaukee, interspersed her short set with classic Wisconsin humor, namely the Norwegian joke. Peter also kept his humor to a country he knows well, Ireland. I doubt that he learned these when he was over there, but his many tours of the Emerald Isle have given him a pretty serviceable Irish accent. All this talk about Ireland led to him playing “On the Road to Mallow,” one of my favorites that I feel like I haven’t heard in quite awhile. A simple travelogue of the road between Middleton and Mallow, he names the things that he sees (dogs, rabbits, and something that “might have been a fox, come to think of it now”) and the gibberish-sounding names of the towns he passes. It’s a beautiful song, simple yet haunting.
He was also more than happy to take requests since he felt he could do that in the friendly confines of the basement. A call for such at the High Noon or the Café Carpe would probably have led to an overwhelming din. He played them all, including “The Trouble with Poets” which I requested for a friend of mine who had flown in for the show, but thought it was the night before. A sad story, which she told me not to repeat. Another fan favorite is the amusing “Some People.” A list of all the things, mundane to scandalous, that people do. Mulvey, on the other hand, just sits back observing it all, shaking his head and going “mmmm, mmmm, mmmm, mmm.” Like many of his songs it is wickedly smart but still uncomplicated.
She lives on the east coast now, Pamela Means still retains a good deal of affection for her home state and her performing partner (“we have the same initials” she stated with authority). Unlike Mulvey, she didn’t look the part of the characters in her jokes, her wild afro would never be seen on Ole’s Lena, but her “donchaknows” and “youbetchas” were spot on. The most remarkable thing about Means was her guitar playing. In a world where most female singer/songwriters play timid guitar, just enough to carry the melody of the songs, she attacked her instrument with a vengeance. Her playing was seriously impressive and remarkably innovative. It is no wonder that several of the people who e-mailed me asked about the Pamela Means show instead of the Peter Mulvey show, she certainly deserves her own following.
The weather had turned nasty the night before, but that only kept a handful of people away. The ones who made it were treated to a great show. These Mulvey shows just might become an annual thing.
Pamela Means
Peter Mulvey
With the political climate in Madison these days, I expected the liberal and very vocal Peter Mulvey to expound on his opinion of the chaos in Wisconsin, especially because he had stopped at the Capital on the way to the house to see his brother and father who were protesting. Instead, he told jokes, which was probably the right thing to do. With how volatile things are these days as the governor tries to force through a very unpopular budget repair bill, it is probably better to let the fire smolder rather than fan the flames. Besides, his jokes are funny, and, as a bonus, I hadn’t heard most of them before.
Opener Pamela Means, also from Milwaukee, interspersed her short set with classic Wisconsin humor, namely the Norwegian joke. Peter also kept his humor to a country he knows well, Ireland. I doubt that he learned these when he was over there, but his many tours of the Emerald Isle have given him a pretty serviceable Irish accent. All this talk about Ireland led to him playing “On the Road to Mallow,” one of my favorites that I feel like I haven’t heard in quite awhile. A simple travelogue of the road between Middleton and Mallow, he names the things that he sees (dogs, rabbits, and something that “might have been a fox, come to think of it now”) and the gibberish-sounding names of the towns he passes. It’s a beautiful song, simple yet haunting.
He was also more than happy to take requests since he felt he could do that in the friendly confines of the basement. A call for such at the High Noon or the Café Carpe would probably have led to an overwhelming din. He played them all, including “The Trouble with Poets” which I requested for a friend of mine who had flown in for the show, but thought it was the night before. A sad story, which she told me not to repeat. Another fan favorite is the amusing “Some People.” A list of all the things, mundane to scandalous, that people do. Mulvey, on the other hand, just sits back observing it all, shaking his head and going “mmmm, mmmm, mmmm, mmm.” Like many of his songs it is wickedly smart but still uncomplicated.
She lives on the east coast now, Pamela Means still retains a good deal of affection for her home state and her performing partner (“we have the same initials” she stated with authority). Unlike Mulvey, she didn’t look the part of the characters in her jokes, her wild afro would never be seen on Ole’s Lena, but her “donchaknows” and “youbetchas” were spot on. The most remarkable thing about Means was her guitar playing. In a world where most female singer/songwriters play timid guitar, just enough to carry the melody of the songs, she attacked her instrument with a vengeance. Her playing was seriously impressive and remarkably innovative. It is no wonder that several of the people who e-mailed me asked about the Pamela Means show instead of the Peter Mulvey show, she certainly deserves her own following.
The weather had turned nasty the night before, but that only kept a handful of people away. The ones who made it were treated to a great show. These Mulvey shows just might become an annual thing.
Pamela Means
Peter Mulvey
Saturday, February 19, 2011
The Dismemberment Plan/JC Brooks and the Uptown Sound/Kid, You’ll Move Mountains; February 19, 2010; Metro, Chicago
It’s been eight years since the much-loved DC band the Dismemberment Plan bewilderingly called it quits. There has been a reunion show or two on the east coast, but I had little hope of ever getting to see one myself. That is until back in October a friend told me he had a pair of tickets to their show in Chicago that I didn’t even know existed, and that the second ticket was mine if I wanted it. It was appropriate as the Dismemberment Plan was the first band we saw together after meeting at a Ryan Adams show. (Which was undeniably terrific, and we’ll both tell you it was the only great show either of us ever saw him do.) I’ll admit I was nervous, there was a high potential for disappointment. They hadn’t played (much) together in the intervening years, how could they be as good as they were back then? As it turns out, they were awesome, even better than I remember them. At the end of the show my face hurt from smiling and my neck ached from head banging (though not as bad as it would the next day).
Of course, always adorable lead singer Travis Morrison had me from the beginning when he dedicated the whole set to “the people of Wisconsin and everything they are fighting for.” I remembered his rapid-fire vocal delivery and propensity for falsetto, but I’d forgotten about his herky-jerky robot dancing and his earnest banter. You can hear how good bass player Eric Axelson is on every song on every record but seeing it live is another thing entirely. He’s playing much more than basic rhythms. Drummer Joe Easley is a force of nature powerhouse behind the kit. I was so delighted with the band that I even forgave guitarist Jason Caddell for Poor but Sexy. (They opened for the Wrens in DC in ‘09. And like all Wrens’ openers, they were terrible. The best thing about them was the name, and I spent most of their painful set trying to figure out why the guitar player looked so familiar.) Their time slot was posted as 10:30-12, but they started earlier than that and by the time the third song of the encore came to an end they had played almost two hours.
That two hours contained pretty much every Dismemberment Plan song I knew, plus a couple I didn’t (we figured they must have been on the first record). Emergency & I is often considered their breakthrough record, and it did yield some of the most mainstream music of their career. The Weezer-esque “What Do You Want Me to Say” encouraged a song-along, as did the song of perceived privilege and acceptance “You Are Invited.” Surreally, I’d heard the band talking about the latter on NPR’s Weekend Edition, and I was pleased to note that the drummer was wearing an NPR shirt. They’re smart and they rock. I’d always leaned more toward … is Terrified and its smart ass songs like “Do the Standing Still,” which mocks indie rock kids for their refusal to move during a show (not a problem tonight), and “Tonight We Mean It” were forgotten friends. And of course it also has the song that made me fall in love with them.
It happened long ago at the now-demolished Union South, one of the worst places to see a show, but where I’d seen some pretty awesome shows all the same. They were opening for Burning Airlines, and I missed part of their set since I was late. But not too late to hear “The Ice of Boston.” I was sold; I bought a CD and saw them whenever I could. The half sung-half spoken song about a pathetic New Year’s Eve celebration remains a highlight of their live show, but tonight I was getting a little worried. We were a song into the encore before the familiar chords sounded. I confessed my concern to my friend. “C’mon,” he scoffed, “you know they have to play it. And now all the people will start piling on stage.” And so they did. Admittedly I’d totally forgotten about that, it has been long time.
The openers seemed almost random choices. Kid, You’ll Move Mountains is a Chicago band, and their love of sprawling rock was only matched by their enthusiasm for being on this bill. While you couldn’t hear any influence of the Dismemberment Plan’s scattershot rock in their dirges, there is no doubt it was there. JC Brooks and the Uptown Sound made even less sense. Watching them set up with their suits and horns, we worried they were a ska band, but instead they were a very soulful band led by the impeccably dressed Brooks. They were likeable enough, but they won me over with “a song from my favorite Chicago blues singer.” With the plethora of blues singers to choose from, I was surprised to hear the first line of the song. “I am an American aquarium drinker, I assassin down the avenue.” That seemingly nonsense sentence is of course the opening of Wilco’s “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart.” Brooks did what is essential to a well done cover, he made it his own, and it was an absolutely inspired version. So inspired, that many people didn’t seem to recognize it till the chorus. It was just the icing on what would turn out to be a pretty tasty cake.
Kid You'll Move Mountains
JC Brooks & the Uptown Sound
The Dismemberment Plan
It’s been eight years since the much-loved DC band the Dismemberment Plan bewilderingly called it quits. There has been a reunion show or two on the east coast, but I had little hope of ever getting to see one myself. That is until back in October a friend told me he had a pair of tickets to their show in Chicago that I didn’t even know existed, and that the second ticket was mine if I wanted it. It was appropriate as the Dismemberment Plan was the first band we saw together after meeting at a Ryan Adams show. (Which was undeniably terrific, and we’ll both tell you it was the only great show either of us ever saw him do.) I’ll admit I was nervous, there was a high potential for disappointment. They hadn’t played (much) together in the intervening years, how could they be as good as they were back then? As it turns out, they were awesome, even better than I remember them. At the end of the show my face hurt from smiling and my neck ached from head banging (though not as bad as it would the next day).
Of course, always adorable lead singer Travis Morrison had me from the beginning when he dedicated the whole set to “the people of Wisconsin and everything they are fighting for.” I remembered his rapid-fire vocal delivery and propensity for falsetto, but I’d forgotten about his herky-jerky robot dancing and his earnest banter. You can hear how good bass player Eric Axelson is on every song on every record but seeing it live is another thing entirely. He’s playing much more than basic rhythms. Drummer Joe Easley is a force of nature powerhouse behind the kit. I was so delighted with the band that I even forgave guitarist Jason Caddell for Poor but Sexy. (They opened for the Wrens in DC in ‘09. And like all Wrens’ openers, they were terrible. The best thing about them was the name, and I spent most of their painful set trying to figure out why the guitar player looked so familiar.) Their time slot was posted as 10:30-12, but they started earlier than that and by the time the third song of the encore came to an end they had played almost two hours.
That two hours contained pretty much every Dismemberment Plan song I knew, plus a couple I didn’t (we figured they must have been on the first record). Emergency & I is often considered their breakthrough record, and it did yield some of the most mainstream music of their career. The Weezer-esque “What Do You Want Me to Say” encouraged a song-along, as did the song of perceived privilege and acceptance “You Are Invited.” Surreally, I’d heard the band talking about the latter on NPR’s Weekend Edition, and I was pleased to note that the drummer was wearing an NPR shirt. They’re smart and they rock. I’d always leaned more toward … is Terrified and its smart ass songs like “Do the Standing Still,” which mocks indie rock kids for their refusal to move during a show (not a problem tonight), and “Tonight We Mean It” were forgotten friends. And of course it also has the song that made me fall in love with them.
It happened long ago at the now-demolished Union South, one of the worst places to see a show, but where I’d seen some pretty awesome shows all the same. They were opening for Burning Airlines, and I missed part of their set since I was late. But not too late to hear “The Ice of Boston.” I was sold; I bought a CD and saw them whenever I could. The half sung-half spoken song about a pathetic New Year’s Eve celebration remains a highlight of their live show, but tonight I was getting a little worried. We were a song into the encore before the familiar chords sounded. I confessed my concern to my friend. “C’mon,” he scoffed, “you know they have to play it. And now all the people will start piling on stage.” And so they did. Admittedly I’d totally forgotten about that, it has been long time.
The openers seemed almost random choices. Kid, You’ll Move Mountains is a Chicago band, and their love of sprawling rock was only matched by their enthusiasm for being on this bill. While you couldn’t hear any influence of the Dismemberment Plan’s scattershot rock in their dirges, there is no doubt it was there. JC Brooks and the Uptown Sound made even less sense. Watching them set up with their suits and horns, we worried they were a ska band, but instead they were a very soulful band led by the impeccably dressed Brooks. They were likeable enough, but they won me over with “a song from my favorite Chicago blues singer.” With the plethora of blues singers to choose from, I was surprised to hear the first line of the song. “I am an American aquarium drinker, I assassin down the avenue.” That seemingly nonsense sentence is of course the opening of Wilco’s “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart.” Brooks did what is essential to a well done cover, he made it his own, and it was an absolutely inspired version. So inspired, that many people didn’t seem to recognize it till the chorus. It was just the icing on what would turn out to be a pretty tasty cake.
Kid You'll Move Mountains
JC Brooks & the Uptown Sound
The Dismemberment Plan
Friday, February 18, 2011
Casey Driessen/The Tillers; February 18, 2011; Café Carpe
Every year my New Year’s resolution is to visit Ft Atkinson’s charming Café Carpe more often. While it is the one I try hardest to keep, I still don’t get there as often as I would like. So it was nice to make a last minute Friday afternoon decision to go to tonight’s show. I hadn’t heard of Casey Driessen before, but between owner Bill Camplin’s excited monologue in one of his trademark rambling e-mails and the fact that my sister Liz was eager to see him, we decided to go. Coincidentally, her resolution is to see more fiddlers.
Opening band the Tillers was a pleasant surprise. An old-timey trio of upright bass and two guitars, with the occasional fiddle, their honest music was toe-tapping and interesting. I’ll be looking for them at SXSW. They had played with Driessen the night before in Chicago, where, one of them explained as he tightened up his bow, “I showed Casey how to play the fiddle.” He smiled at the ridiculousness of that statement. The extent of that overstatement was obvious from the second Driessen took the stage. Once you got past his jaw-dropping suit, candy apple red with a long double breasted coat paired with red and white saddle shoes, it was obvious he was there for some serious fiddling. Even though it wasn’t necessarily my thing, I was thoroughly entertained by the show. Accompanied by a drummer and bass player, he turned each song into a style demonstration. He excused the band for perhaps the showiest song of the night. After a few notes, Liz turned to me “Is this “Billy Jean”?” It sure sounded like it. It turned out to be version that would have made both Michael Jackson and Robbie Fulks (who covers it frequently) proud.
It wasn’t till after the show that Liz mentioned that she couldn’t stop thinking about the Revenge of the Nerds. I hadn’t thought of that movie since the Eighties, but I knew exactly what she was talking about- the finale of the Greek games where Arthur Poindexter with his thick glasses, crazy hair and electric fiddle takes the stage. Driessen may look like a nerd, but he was quite definitely a kick-ass fiddle player.
The Tillers
Casey Driessen
Every year my New Year’s resolution is to visit Ft Atkinson’s charming Café Carpe more often. While it is the one I try hardest to keep, I still don’t get there as often as I would like. So it was nice to make a last minute Friday afternoon decision to go to tonight’s show. I hadn’t heard of Casey Driessen before, but between owner Bill Camplin’s excited monologue in one of his trademark rambling e-mails and the fact that my sister Liz was eager to see him, we decided to go. Coincidentally, her resolution is to see more fiddlers.
Opening band the Tillers was a pleasant surprise. An old-timey trio of upright bass and two guitars, with the occasional fiddle, their honest music was toe-tapping and interesting. I’ll be looking for them at SXSW. They had played with Driessen the night before in Chicago, where, one of them explained as he tightened up his bow, “I showed Casey how to play the fiddle.” He smiled at the ridiculousness of that statement. The extent of that overstatement was obvious from the second Driessen took the stage. Once you got past his jaw-dropping suit, candy apple red with a long double breasted coat paired with red and white saddle shoes, it was obvious he was there for some serious fiddling. Even though it wasn’t necessarily my thing, I was thoroughly entertained by the show. Accompanied by a drummer and bass player, he turned each song into a style demonstration. He excused the band for perhaps the showiest song of the night. After a few notes, Liz turned to me “Is this “Billy Jean”?” It sure sounded like it. It turned out to be version that would have made both Michael Jackson and Robbie Fulks (who covers it frequently) proud.
It wasn’t till after the show that Liz mentioned that she couldn’t stop thinking about the Revenge of the Nerds. I hadn’t thought of that movie since the Eighties, but I knew exactly what she was talking about- the finale of the Greek games where Arthur Poindexter with his thick glasses, crazy hair and electric fiddle takes the stage. Driessen may look like a nerd, but he was quite definitely a kick-ass fiddle player.
The Tillers
Casey Driessen
Saturday, February 12, 2011
11 Songs; February 12, 2011; Concertgebouw Brugge
It’s true I traveled to the UK twice specifically to see the Wrens, but it was pure luck that I was able to see Jonathan Richman my first day in Munich and Clem Snide and Andrew Bird together in Barcelona, because for the most part my trips to Europe have been surprisingly short on music. By myself in Bruges for two nights, I decided I wanted to see some music, no matter what it was. The majority of the events in the “What’s Happening in Bruges” guide my bed & breakfast hosts were kind enough to provide were jazz, though there was also some sort of dub concert that sounded even less appealing. The best bet seemed to be the show at the music hall. The relatively new hall sticks out among the predominantly medieval architecture of Bruges. I’m sure they meant it to look modern, but as the brewery tour guide pointed out earlier that day, “it’s awful.” She said they had built it because they were supposed to be the number one city in Europe for culture. “Now I think we are last,” she lamented.
Still, once you got inside the theater, it was easy to forget about the external appearance and appreciate the sound inside. The show promised to be interesting as it paired West African drummers with jazz musicians. Yes, it was still jazz, but I was pretty sure this was jazz I could handle. The drummers were definitely the focal point. Dressed in a variety of styles from traditional garb to baseball hats and blue jeans, the musicians’ boundless energy, complicated rhythms, and wide smiles made them irresistible. They anchored every song with layers of sound created with several sets of drums, hand percussion and a large wooden member of the xylophone family. Since his job also involved playing a lot of rhythm, the burly guy saddled with a sousaphone for the entire night wandered over to that side of the stage frequently, creating a strange juxtaposition.
As much as I loved the drums, it wouldn’t have been a show without the brass on the other side of the stage. Luckily their jazz was not the stuffy kind, but instead an inventive and very catchy kind. I found myself bobbing my head for most of the show and saw others around me doing the same. The quartet of saxophone players made the most noise, but it was the trumpet that really stood out. The handsome, dark-haired, musician was easily the youngest person on stage, but he held his own against the tenor, baritone and pair of altos. One of these alto players, Trevor Watts, seemed to be some sort of big deal, as the tenor player Luc Mishalle who emceed the show (mostly in what I think was French, but honestly, I was never quite sure what language anyone was speaking the whole time I was in Belgium) introduced him frequently. When called on for an explanation of one of the titular eleven songs, he gave it in English and sounded distinctly British.
After the eleven songs were over the musicians returned for a short improv encore led by the drummers before each was presented with a bouquet of flowers. It wasn’t a concert I would have picked normally, but I was definitely happy with my choice.
It’s true I traveled to the UK twice specifically to see the Wrens, but it was pure luck that I was able to see Jonathan Richman my first day in Munich and Clem Snide and Andrew Bird together in Barcelona, because for the most part my trips to Europe have been surprisingly short on music. By myself in Bruges for two nights, I decided I wanted to see some music, no matter what it was. The majority of the events in the “What’s Happening in Bruges” guide my bed & breakfast hosts were kind enough to provide were jazz, though there was also some sort of dub concert that sounded even less appealing. The best bet seemed to be the show at the music hall. The relatively new hall sticks out among the predominantly medieval architecture of Bruges. I’m sure they meant it to look modern, but as the brewery tour guide pointed out earlier that day, “it’s awful.” She said they had built it because they were supposed to be the number one city in Europe for culture. “Now I think we are last,” she lamented.
Still, once you got inside the theater, it was easy to forget about the external appearance and appreciate the sound inside. The show promised to be interesting as it paired West African drummers with jazz musicians. Yes, it was still jazz, but I was pretty sure this was jazz I could handle. The drummers were definitely the focal point. Dressed in a variety of styles from traditional garb to baseball hats and blue jeans, the musicians’ boundless energy, complicated rhythms, and wide smiles made them irresistible. They anchored every song with layers of sound created with several sets of drums, hand percussion and a large wooden member of the xylophone family. Since his job also involved playing a lot of rhythm, the burly guy saddled with a sousaphone for the entire night wandered over to that side of the stage frequently, creating a strange juxtaposition.
As much as I loved the drums, it wouldn’t have been a show without the brass on the other side of the stage. Luckily their jazz was not the stuffy kind, but instead an inventive and very catchy kind. I found myself bobbing my head for most of the show and saw others around me doing the same. The quartet of saxophone players made the most noise, but it was the trumpet that really stood out. The handsome, dark-haired, musician was easily the youngest person on stage, but he held his own against the tenor, baritone and pair of altos. One of these alto players, Trevor Watts, seemed to be some sort of big deal, as the tenor player Luc Mishalle who emceed the show (mostly in what I think was French, but honestly, I was never quite sure what language anyone was speaking the whole time I was in Belgium) introduced him frequently. When called on for an explanation of one of the titular eleven songs, he gave it in English and sounded distinctly British.
After the eleven songs were over the musicians returned for a short improv encore led by the drummers before each was presented with a bouquet of flowers. It wasn’t a concert I would have picked normally, but I was definitely happy with my choice.
Friday, February 04, 2011
Paul Otteson/Icarus Himself; February 4, 2011; Kiki’s House of Righteous Music
Most of my house concerts have had the same format, a touring band with a local opener, but there have been a few exceptions. Occasionally I’ve gone without an opener, like the Bottle Rockets or Robbie Fulks when I knew the show would sell out. And sometimes the opener is also a touring band, Theodore opening for Simon Joyner or Ben Weaver for the Pines. But tonight marked the first time the House of Righteous Music had an all local bill. You know what, it turned out just fine. In fact, I might have to do it more often since over 40 people showed up. I quizzed a few people on the way in about which band they were there to see. It seemed to be pretty well split, with more than one person admitting they were really just there to check it out, and that they had been meaning to for awhile. Which is great of course, but there have been so many other shows that could have used the help, and now they probably think that I always have that many people show up.
I’d just met Paul Otteson, and only seen him play once, when Jeremiah Nelson suggested that he should do his CD release show in my basement. Even though Jeremiah and I don’t always agree on music (i.e. he likes a lot of stuff that I don’t), I thought maybe he was right about this one. Once Otteson sent me his completed record, I knew he was. February Fables emerged from a February Album Writing Month (or FAWM) exercise. The idea of FAWM is to write a new song every other day during the shortest month of the year, and by the 28th you’ll have a record. Otteson had a couple false starts before settling on an Aesop Fable theme in 2009, the songs on his new release were chosen from two years worth of work. The idea was to take some of the classic fables and update them to modern times. The result was a lot of songs with titles that sounded similar. During the recording process he joked that someone would invariably ask if they do the one about the “something and the something.”
Otteson is a school teacher, and he said his original idea was to read the fable associated with each song before they played it, a very teacherly thing to do. He decided against it for most of the night, but he did pull out his worn copy for the story of “The Bear and the Two Travelers,” reading it deliberately before pausing for the moral, “Never travel with a friend who deserts you at the approach of danger.” As it is with fables, the moral is a good one. His band for the night was the same that had played on the record, and they were essential in bringing these songs to life. In addition to playing guitar, Nelson also produced the record, and it sounds like he also gave Otteson the push he needed to record. There were more familiar faces in the band, drummer Luke Bassuener who has played in the basement before with his band This Bright Apocalypse and his one-man band Asumaya. Not only is the eternally smiling and cheerful Bassuener a pleasure to have around for his personality, he is also a creative and engaging drummer. Fiddler Shawn Drake hasn’t been playing as much since moving to Kenosha, which explains why his fiddle was in rough shape when he arrived at the house. In fact, he borrowed my sister Liz’s for the show. “Thanks Liz,” he said mid-set, before holding it up and explaining, “house fiddle.” The upright bass player was the only person I didn’t know, but he was familiar with the basement, having come to a previous show there. Even though the group hadn’t played together since finishing recording, they sounded terrific during their set thanks to a long sound check/practice earlier.
I’m notoriously picky about who plays in the basement. I’m not doing these shows for any other reason than I love the bands that I have play. So I was a little nervous when Jeremiah and Paul said they would put together a bill for the show. I didn’t wait long before suggesting Icarus Himself, who I have been trying to get to the basement for years. In fact they had been unable to do it so many times that I wondered if I should stop asking. They reassured me that was not the case, and so I offered them this show. I knew Jeremiah had played with them before, and they seemed a good match for Otteson’s music, as well as being a good draw. Finally the timing worked out, they were taking a short break after being on tour, and they were in.
They like to tell me that they have gotten a lot louder since adding drummer Brad Kolberg, but I assured them I’ve had louder at the house. They weren’t lying though, the band started as the solo effort of Nick Whetro, a side project from his National Beekeepers Society. Those early shows consisted of him and a guitar. In the last few years the group has developed rapidly, and they have become a consistently impressive live band. I couldn’t stop smiling as they set up for their set; I was pretty excited they were finally here. Most of the songs were familiar to me as being from 2009’s Coffins or last year’s Mexico EP, especially the latter’s ridiculously catchy “Digging Holes.” Whetro teased us early by saying he had a new song, but wasn’t ready to play it. As their set drew to a close, he decided to bring it out. As with all their recent material it was a winner. After 45 minutes they said they were done, but we convinced them to play one more. I was rewarded when it turned out to be the song with the trumpet, which I think is called “Cadaver Love Song,” though I should probably look that up.
Good crowd, great bands, it looks like 2011 at the House of Righteous Music is off to a good start.
Icarus Himself
Paul Otteson
Most of my house concerts have had the same format, a touring band with a local opener, but there have been a few exceptions. Occasionally I’ve gone without an opener, like the Bottle Rockets or Robbie Fulks when I knew the show would sell out. And sometimes the opener is also a touring band, Theodore opening for Simon Joyner or Ben Weaver for the Pines. But tonight marked the first time the House of Righteous Music had an all local bill. You know what, it turned out just fine. In fact, I might have to do it more often since over 40 people showed up. I quizzed a few people on the way in about which band they were there to see. It seemed to be pretty well split, with more than one person admitting they were really just there to check it out, and that they had been meaning to for awhile. Which is great of course, but there have been so many other shows that could have used the help, and now they probably think that I always have that many people show up.
I’d just met Paul Otteson, and only seen him play once, when Jeremiah Nelson suggested that he should do his CD release show in my basement. Even though Jeremiah and I don’t always agree on music (i.e. he likes a lot of stuff that I don’t), I thought maybe he was right about this one. Once Otteson sent me his completed record, I knew he was. February Fables emerged from a February Album Writing Month (or FAWM) exercise. The idea of FAWM is to write a new song every other day during the shortest month of the year, and by the 28th you’ll have a record. Otteson had a couple false starts before settling on an Aesop Fable theme in 2009, the songs on his new release were chosen from two years worth of work. The idea was to take some of the classic fables and update them to modern times. The result was a lot of songs with titles that sounded similar. During the recording process he joked that someone would invariably ask if they do the one about the “something and the something.”
Otteson is a school teacher, and he said his original idea was to read the fable associated with each song before they played it, a very teacherly thing to do. He decided against it for most of the night, but he did pull out his worn copy for the story of “The Bear and the Two Travelers,” reading it deliberately before pausing for the moral, “Never travel with a friend who deserts you at the approach of danger.” As it is with fables, the moral is a good one. His band for the night was the same that had played on the record, and they were essential in bringing these songs to life. In addition to playing guitar, Nelson also produced the record, and it sounds like he also gave Otteson the push he needed to record. There were more familiar faces in the band, drummer Luke Bassuener who has played in the basement before with his band This Bright Apocalypse and his one-man band Asumaya. Not only is the eternally smiling and cheerful Bassuener a pleasure to have around for his personality, he is also a creative and engaging drummer. Fiddler Shawn Drake hasn’t been playing as much since moving to Kenosha, which explains why his fiddle was in rough shape when he arrived at the house. In fact, he borrowed my sister Liz’s for the show. “Thanks Liz,” he said mid-set, before holding it up and explaining, “house fiddle.” The upright bass player was the only person I didn’t know, but he was familiar with the basement, having come to a previous show there. Even though the group hadn’t played together since finishing recording, they sounded terrific during their set thanks to a long sound check/practice earlier.
I’m notoriously picky about who plays in the basement. I’m not doing these shows for any other reason than I love the bands that I have play. So I was a little nervous when Jeremiah and Paul said they would put together a bill for the show. I didn’t wait long before suggesting Icarus Himself, who I have been trying to get to the basement for years. In fact they had been unable to do it so many times that I wondered if I should stop asking. They reassured me that was not the case, and so I offered them this show. I knew Jeremiah had played with them before, and they seemed a good match for Otteson’s music, as well as being a good draw. Finally the timing worked out, they were taking a short break after being on tour, and they were in.
They like to tell me that they have gotten a lot louder since adding drummer Brad Kolberg, but I assured them I’ve had louder at the house. They weren’t lying though, the band started as the solo effort of Nick Whetro, a side project from his National Beekeepers Society. Those early shows consisted of him and a guitar. In the last few years the group has developed rapidly, and they have become a consistently impressive live band. I couldn’t stop smiling as they set up for their set; I was pretty excited they were finally here. Most of the songs were familiar to me as being from 2009’s Coffins or last year’s Mexico EP, especially the latter’s ridiculously catchy “Digging Holes.” Whetro teased us early by saying he had a new song, but wasn’t ready to play it. As their set drew to a close, he decided to bring it out. As with all their recent material it was a winner. After 45 minutes they said they were done, but we convinced them to play one more. I was rewarded when it turned out to be the song with the trumpet, which I think is called “Cadaver Love Song,” though I should probably look that up.
Good crowd, great bands, it looks like 2011 at the House of Righteous Music is off to a good start.
Icarus Himself
Paul Otteson
Wednesday, February 02, 2011
The Night before the Day the Music Died featuring the music of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens; February 2, 2011; Crystal Corner Bar
The Brown Derby has been playing their brand of honky-tonk at the Crystal Corner every Wednesday night for several years now. On the eve of the anniversary of the day that Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and the Big Bopper all died in a tragic plane crash, they forsook their usual show to pay tribute to those musicians, and even called in some guest stars. The evening began with the August Teens as Buddy Holly and the Crickets. With Kyle Motor in charge I should have known it would start exactly on time, but I was twenty minutes late anyway. I missed a good chunk of their set, since, as Kyle pointed out, “the songs are only two minutes long”. However what I did see was pretty awesome. Lead singer Dan Hardgrove moved to bass and left guitar and vocal duties to Motor. With his unabashed love for power pop it isn’t really a surprise that Motor dove into the role. Not only did they sound great, but they also looked great, all dressed in suits.
The Buddy Holly portion of the show was the most extensive, and after a break Brown Derby took the stage for the Richie Valens and Big Bopper segment. For the latter, Derby bass player Nick Brown took center stage. The most physically imposing member of the band he was the logical choice based on stature, but he also had the voice for it. For the biggest of the Bopper’s hits, there was even a prop rotary phone for that iconic salutation “Helloooooooo Bay-bee” that kicks off “Chantilly Lace.” I wasn’t sure I knew any other Big Bopper songs, but I did recognize the cartoonish “Running Bear.” Motor took over vocals once again for a short set of Valens’ songs that should have been familiar to anyone who’s seen La Bamba. I haven’t, but I still knew the big ones- “Oh Donna,” “Come On, Let’s Go,” and “La Bamba.” And his Spanish was pretty convincing on the latter. In fact his enthusiasm for the whole project was quite charming.
After that the night reverted to its regular Brown Derby format, though lead singer John Kunert tried to keep in theme by adding to the list of people who were also supposedly on the plane, beginning with Jerry Reed and his “East Bound and Down” all the way through George Jones.
The Brown Derby has been playing their brand of honky-tonk at the Crystal Corner every Wednesday night for several years now. On the eve of the anniversary of the day that Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and the Big Bopper all died in a tragic plane crash, they forsook their usual show to pay tribute to those musicians, and even called in some guest stars. The evening began with the August Teens as Buddy Holly and the Crickets. With Kyle Motor in charge I should have known it would start exactly on time, but I was twenty minutes late anyway. I missed a good chunk of their set, since, as Kyle pointed out, “the songs are only two minutes long”. However what I did see was pretty awesome. Lead singer Dan Hardgrove moved to bass and left guitar and vocal duties to Motor. With his unabashed love for power pop it isn’t really a surprise that Motor dove into the role. Not only did they sound great, but they also looked great, all dressed in suits.
The Buddy Holly portion of the show was the most extensive, and after a break Brown Derby took the stage for the Richie Valens and Big Bopper segment. For the latter, Derby bass player Nick Brown took center stage. The most physically imposing member of the band he was the logical choice based on stature, but he also had the voice for it. For the biggest of the Bopper’s hits, there was even a prop rotary phone for that iconic salutation “Helloooooooo Bay-bee” that kicks off “Chantilly Lace.” I wasn’t sure I knew any other Big Bopper songs, but I did recognize the cartoonish “Running Bear.” Motor took over vocals once again for a short set of Valens’ songs that should have been familiar to anyone who’s seen La Bamba. I haven’t, but I still knew the big ones- “Oh Donna,” “Come On, Let’s Go,” and “La Bamba.” And his Spanish was pretty convincing on the latter. In fact his enthusiasm for the whole project was quite charming.
After that the night reverted to its regular Brown Derby format, though lead singer John Kunert tried to keep in theme by adding to the list of people who were also supposedly on the plane, beginning with Jerry Reed and his “East Bound and Down” all the way through George Jones.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)