Thursday, September 19, 2013

Joey’s Song Benefit featuring Miles Nielsen and Rhett Miller; September 19, 2013; High Noon Saloon


I met Joey’s Song founder Mike Gomoll after he e-mailed me, suggesting we should meet based on the overlap between artists that had donated songs to his charity CDs and ones that had played my basement.  He’s a gregarious guy, always smiling and always happy to see you.  It’s no surprise that he’s lined up an impressive roster of artists for his CDs and for his benefit shows.  Last year’s show featured Sammy Llanas, Freedy Johnston and Robbie Fulks.  While two thirds of them had been in my basement, this year my batting average wasn’t as high.  Moving from the cavernous gym at Pooleys to the more music-friendly room at the High Noon probably helped ticket sales, but having the Old 97’s charismatic lead singer Rhett Miller on the bill probably helped even more.  There were only forty tickets left for the 400 capacity room when the doors opened, so I was surprised to see a half empty room when I got there.  I blame either the torrential downpour just an hour prior to showtime or the fact that it was a benefit.  While people want to help the cause, not all of them are music fans.

I had missed the first musician entirely due to a conflicting early start time and a yoga class, but got there as Miles Nielsen was setting up.  I’ve seen Nielsen a couple times and always enjoyed him.  He is friends with my usual sound guy and Trevor had already told Nielsen all about the House of Righteous Music, and he was interested in playing.  So maybe my average will go up.  He’s sometimes backed by a great band which includes the terrific Dan McMahon, but he left them home tonight.  Which would have been just fine, except that the chatty crowd was a lot louder than he was.  For most of the set I could tune them out, hearing just the music, but every so often it became obvious just how loud it was.  For his part, Nielsen was incredibly professional, playing to the handful of us up front that were paying attention, but it had to be difficult.  On the stage around him sat several antique looking, gold plated elephant lamps, “I have a hundred of these,” he joked/explained, “I bring these along so that I always feel at home.”  I’d like to think he was joking, but having seen the Rick’s Picks exhibit of his dad’s rock & roll memorabilia, it wouldn’t surprise me at all if he was a hoarder.

I’ve seen Rhett Miller many many times over the years, from a show at the tiny O’Cayz Corral to last year’s Too Far to Care anniversary tour at the Overture Center, with many solo shows in between, and this may be the least amount of people Miller has ever played to in Madison.  There was still a throng of people up front, hanging on every word, but the crowd thinned quickly as you moved away from the stage.  The good news was that the people who had talked through Nielsen’s set were likely the ones who had left.  There were few surprises in Miller’s set, a near equal mix of solo tunes and band songs, except maybe Gomoll’s request for “Singular Girl.”  I’ve always found Miller’s solo stuff sappy and somewhat cheesy, a surprise given the whip-smart nature of the Old 97’s material (especially the earlier stuff), but live it is never as cloying.  His “duet” on “Fireflies” from his second solo release, in which he sings the male vocal from one side of the mike and the female from the other, is always nothing less than adorable, and “Four-eyed Girl” and “Come Around” from his first have held up better than expected.

The songs of the Old 97’s are always the highlight though.  He still puts a ridiculous amount of energy into classic singalong, cow-punk songs like “Big Brown Eyes” and the frenetically infectious “Doreen.”  By the end of the set his shirt is soaked and his surprisingly stylish mullet sprays sweat in every direction as he shakes his head wildly during every song.  The girls, and probably some of the guys, all squeal when he windmills his arm from the elbow down, the propeller like motion unexpectedly in time across the strings of the guitar.  While I haven’t loved any Old 97’s record since Satellite Rides the occasional 
reminder that Blame It on Gravity and Drag It Up exist isn’t so bad.  Last year’s tour may have inspired the inclusion of such deep classics as “The Melt Show” and “Salome,” both awesome, in tonight’s set.  And like every Old 97’s show for as long as I can remember, he ended with the explosive “Time Bomb.”

I’ve never seen anyone as happy as Gomoll was tonight, beaming at the edge of the stage as his friend Rhett Miller played a sweaty, sincere set for a good cause.  When I told Gomoll later that Nielsen was going to play the house someday, he was excited, “we need to get Rhett there too!”  I’m in!

Mile Nielsen





Rhett Miller






Friday, September 06, 2013

David Berkeley/Brett Newski; September 6, 2013; Kiki’s House of Righteous Music


I saw David Berkeley play a short set at SXSW this year, and even though he claimed it was his worst show of the festival, it was enough to convince me that he would be a good fit for the basement.  Of course, knowing that he’d been featured on This American Life certainly didn’t hurt either.  Berkeley was joined tonight by guitarist Bill Titus whose dry sense of humor made an impression from the moment they arrived.  His guitar playing impressed from the moment he plugged in.  Berkeley’s voice is soulful and pretty, and his songs have an almost ethereal quality.  I had listened to previous record Some Kind of Cure more than his new release The Fire in my Head, and while both are quite good, it was the songs from the former that really stood out for me tonight.  He introduced “George Square” by asking if anyone had been to Scotland.  I had, and had been to Glasgow on that trip, but I didn’t recall the Square of the title.  I asked if it was the one with the statue that was perennially wearing a traffic cone.  In fact, that was the Wellington statue in front of the art museum there.  The song came about when one fan told him that he should write a song about that square since he’d written one about Times Square.  “That turned out about as well as you can imagine,” he joked, but in fact it is one of his most memorable songs.  Maybe there will be more songs about squares in his future.

The new record was inspired by his move to New Mexico and the songs are sparser as if the dry heat had evaporated everything that wasn’t essential.  He also read an excerpt from his book 140 Goats & a Guitar, each of which has to do with a song on his previous record.  He’s an observant and slyly funny writer; I’m kicking myself for not getting a copy.  The story he read had to do with his tendency to try to push a tank of gas as far as it will go, and his related predisposition to running out of gas, often at the most inopportune moments.  His wife and friends who are often also victims of his shortsightedness fail to see the humor in this, but it played out quite entertainingly for us.  I was surprised that the associated song turned out to be “Parachute,” my favorite from the record.  The clever extended simile claims, “Your heart is like a parachute, it only opens when it falls,” which always strikes me as quite poignant.  It was an excellent set, and I invited the duo to come back anytime they wanted.
      
Opener Brett Newski lived in Madison for several years as leader of the well-received band The Nod.  He moved to Vietnam for several years where he recorded new release In Between Exits before returning to the States.  He had just completed an ambitious US tour and was finishing up in Madison before going international again with several shows in South Africa, one of them a festival sponsored by Rolling Stone.   Full of youthful enthusiasm, he had plenty of stories to tell about his adventures in Vietnam, including how he got his brother (in attendance tonight) on a national basketball team there.  He even convinced a first time show-goer to play harmonica on a song, she acquitted herself well.  The crowd enjoyed him and he certainly seemed to be enjoying himself.  He’d been angling for a spot on a bill for awhile, I’m glad it finally worked out.  

Brett Newski


David Berkeley 



Saturday, August 24, 2013

Orton Park Fest; August 24, 2013; Orton Park



Madison’s quartet of eastside summer festivals are some of the best entertainment you can find for the price.  Since the price is free, the Waterfront Festival, Fete de Marquette, Orton Park Fest and Willy Street Fair attract as many music lovers as they do art lovers, food cart lovers and families looking for all ages fun.  And most of the folks in attendance fit into more than one category.  I think it is fair to say that there were a few more Jon Dee Graham lovers by the end of the night.  Graham and his rhythm section, the Fighting Cocks, put on perhaps the best show I’ve seen them play outside the basement.  The Fighting Cocks are seldom the same two musicians, today it was longtime Graham sideman Andrew Duplantis on bass and a new face to me, James McMurtry’s drummer Darren Hess.  While he may have been a new face to me, it turns out he goes way back with Jon Dee, having played with him before he even released his first record.

I had been in Minneapolis the night before to see Jon Dee and company at Morrisey’s.  The swanky Irish pub was an unlikely venue for the band, the tiny stage and free admission didn’t exactly bode well for the band, but it turned into a pretty great show with enough quietly respectful fans to balance out the folks who were talking.  Tonight was another story, with a festival stage under them they had room to spread out and really deliver.  Jon Dee’s enthusiastic and infectious charm converted the uninitiated and impressed even those who were already in the know.  He drew from his impressive catalog choosing some of the most effective songs from his canon.  Always my favorite, “Airplane” and its lead in “I’ll Wait” were stunning, and a few people even joined in on the chorus to the latter, repeating the mantra as Jon Dee encouraged, like “you’ll really be there.”  I’d asked for “Lucky Day” but was just as happy with another track from It’s Not as Bad as It Looks the  artfully wounded “Beautifully Broken,” with its message for all the “drugglers and strugglers, God’s broken little birds.”  As happy as the crowd was with the set, I don’t think anyone was happier than Jon Dee himself.  “I think we reached some people tonight.”  I think he’s right.

The final band of the night, the Bottle Rockets, had been watching from the side of the stage, and they seemed a little intimidated about following the force of nature they had just witnessed.  But if anyone can bring the energy, it’s them.  Always a killer live band, they did not disappoint.  The handful of new songs bode well for a new record and the selection of “virtual hits” (fan favorites that should have been) should sell a lot of copies of the upcoming Bloodshot reissue of their earlier material.  The massive 46 track two disc set compiles their first two releases, self titled and Brooklyn Side, along with live tracks and outtakes.  Any Bottle Rockets show wouldn’t be complete without “Indianapolis,” “Radar Gun” and “$1000 Car,” but one song we don’t always hear is “When I Was Dumb.”  My favorite song, they know it is the one track I will always ask for.  When they hadn’t played it before the encore, I was pretty sure it was off the list for tonight, but I was about to be pleasantly surprised.  When they came back lead singer Brian Henneman announced the song, saying “sometimes she gets it and sometimes she doesn’t, it just proves that sometimes it pays to be a pain in the ass.”  I was embarrassed, but delighted.  In fact with half the bands on today’s line-up having been basement alumni, I felt pretty special all night.  Thanks Orton Park!     

The Kissers




 Jon Dee Graham & the Fighting Cocks








The Bottle Rockets