Josh Harty/Nick Brown; May 4, 2014; High Noon Saloon

Nick Brown

Josh Harty

Peter Case/Chris Plowman; May 3, 2014; Kiki’s House of Righteous Music

Peter Case has had a legendary thirty year career in music.  His bands the Nerves and the Plimsouls had seminal roles in the roadmap of power pop and New Wave, the latter even appeared in the movie Valley Girl.  He’s a respected and idolized blues musician who has spent the last decade playing solo shows across the country and Europe.  So why hasn’t Madison embraced him?  This was his third appearance at the house and it was only half full.  If he was disappointed it certainly didn’t show in his performance, which as always was a perfect balance between smart storytelling and clever songs.  His CDs that hadn’t shown up in whatever town he had been in the day before failed to show up again today, so he was the unusual performer who had nothing to sell other than a handful of his books.  When I emailed him that they had shown up on my front step two days later, he joked that his CDs were on their own tour.

His set list spanned his entire career, eventually coming back to the songs from his second solo record, the timeless but awkwardly titled Man with the Blue Post Modern Fragmented Neo-Traditionalist Guitar.  The songs from that record have always seemed to me his most indelible, and they are always my favorite part of his show.  The about-to be-a-murder ballad “Put Down the Gun” contains this bit of wisdom, “I don’t know but it’s been heard, a gun in the first act always goes off in the third,” and follows it with “there’ll be no third act at all if someone’s killed tonight.”  Meanwhile at “The Entella Hotel” he paints a vivid story in just a few verses and you feel the steamy heat of the city and the desperation of its residents.  His love of the blues always comes up in his music and in his performance; tonight it was it was a song by Sleepy John Estes.  When he wasn’t really living anywhere after moving to California he only had one record that he carried around with him.  He didn’t have a record player, so he would try to find people to stay with who did, just so he could listen to his Sleepy John record.

Chris Plowman moved to Madison just over two years ago for a girl he met here while on tour from Austin.  What was his lucky day has also became mine, as he’s helped me out on sound many, many times over the last couple years.  I’d seen him play bass with the Josh Harty band, but I’d never seen him play his own stuff, a prequalification for opening a show at the House of Righteous Music.  Still, when he agreed to do sound for this show last minute, I decided to take a chance.  It paid off.  Despite the fact that he said he was very nervous, he played a great short set of original tunes, proving he can play guitar as well as he plays bass. 

Chris Plowman

 

Peter Case

Califone; May 2, 2014; Kiki’s House of Righteous Music

Time to make a new wish list.  For years the two names at the top of my wish list for the basement were Chuck Prophet and Califone.  Prophet played a terrific solo show last spring, and tonight I finally got to cross off number one.  I didn’t know who to expect when the Califone van rolled into the driveway, most of these Califone living room shows had been lead singer/guitarist/genius Tim Rutili solo or joined by a guitarist.  In addition to Rutili, inventive guitarist (and Jon Dee Graham Austin neighbor) Craig Ross and Ben Massarella climbed out of the van.  I couldn’t have been more delighted to see percussionist Massarella who had been an integral part of the Califone I knew the best, and he was the first to say “We should play here sometime” years ago in the middle of a post show ping pong game.  I wasn’t going to forget that.  After seeing them for years, the release of All My Friends Are Funeral Singers in 2011 marked the moment when I finally “got” Califone.  It’s their most accessible record to date, an addictively powerful listen.  My only regret is that they didn’t play more than the title track from it.

Well, that and Rutili’s weird and wildly inappropriate between song banter.  I told him he’d ruined several of my favorite songs by telling me what they were about.  I didn’t need to know that “The Fisher King’s Wife” was about a war to wean grown men from breast milk, or that another song was about genital mutilation.  “But in a loving way,” he protested when I told him I might not be able to listen to that song again.  Still, most people seemed charmed by his strange and comfortable openness.  And while it was uncomfortable, I’ll admit to also finding it a bit endearing.  I’m just glad there weren’t any children in the room.  Rutili switched between keyboard and guitar, often seeming to lose himself in the song, his distinctive voice his only anchor.  Massarella added subtle percussion, and Ross a poignant guitar, both adding to the spell.  They opened, as they had been the last several times I’d seen them, with “Movie Music Kills a Kiss,” an infectious tune from last year’s Stitches, the subdued but still quite enjoyable follow up to Funeral.   What followed was a sampling from much of his catalog, a treat for diehard fans in the audience.

The running joke became that everything was a Kickstarter campaign, though it isn’t really a joke if you’ve ever looked at the things people are trying to get paid for on the fund raising website.  I’d like to set up a Kickstarter to get Califone back to the basement as soon as possible.  I know at least fifty people who would contribute.

Peter Mulvey & Kris Delmhorst; April 27, 2014; The High Noon

Kris Delmhorst

Peter Mulvey

The Flat Five; April 25, 2014; Kiki’s House of Righteous Music

The Flat Five had just made their KHoRM debut in December, so April seemed a little soon to come back, but I trusted their judgment on this.  After all, I’d have them play every week if they’d do it.  I was a bit surprised when I found out a few days before that the Flat Five turned was actually going to be the Flat Four.  Turns out drummer Alex Hall had other commitments and couldn’t make it.  I adore Alex, and his drums and accordion add a lot, but he is the only member they can get by without.  As Nora O’Connor promised, it meant even more sweet harmonies.  It was another marathon of amazing music, with the band occasionally breaking down into the Flat Two or Three.  O’Connor and Kelly Hogan took a seat in the front row to allow keyboardist/guitarist Scott Ligon and bassist Casey McDonough a chance to play a few songs on their own.  McDonough eventually earned his seat on the futon, “you’ve earned an entire futon warehouse,” Hogan joked.  As always, their easy camaraderie and hilarious banter (the most hilariously inappropriate coming from Hogan) were as much a highlight as their impeccable song selection and gorgeous vocals.

I always think I know a lot about music until I see the Flat Five and I only know a handful of the covers they play, and most of them are Monkees songs.  This time we got three songs (!) from the criminally underrated group, of course, none of them were actually written by the band.  The country western vibe of “What Am I Doin’ Hangin’ ‘Round?” comes courtesy of Michael Martin Murphy, and was lovely as sung by Hogan.  “Pleasant Valley Sunday” makes sense when you know how much they love Carole King.  My favorite of course was a perfect version of “Love Is Only Sleeping,” which they had also done last time around.  I did less squealing, but it was just as awesome.  They switched out their winter songs (I was a little disappointed, I argue “The Winter is Cold” is great any time of year) for springier ones.  The first song I remember hearing Hogan and Ligon playing together many years ago was the Free Design’s “Kites Are Fun,” a trippy colored song about the joys of “flying.” They love a lot of bands, and most of them I’ve never heard of.  There was a two-fer from the Dixie Cups, and lots of talk about Joe South.  The latter was someone I wasn’t familiar with, but turns out he wrote a bunch of hits for other people.  The best known of those is “Rose Garden.”  After having “Birds of Feather” stuck in my head for a week or more, thanks to O’Connor and Hogan’s infectious “na na’s,” I started listening to a lot of Joe South.  “Birds” is still stuck, but I did discover a lot of other great songs of his.

The one name I did know well was that of Ligon’s brother Chris.  His “Florida” is a sunny, gorgeous, harmony-filled dream, while “Poop Ghost” is just kinda weird.  They are talking about making a whole record of his songs, which would be the first merch the Flat Five would have.  The fact that the only way to hear them do these pop gems is to go see them (or search them on YouTube) is what makes it so special.  The fifty other people in the basement that night seemed to think so too, even after two and a half hours folks were yelling for more.  Hopefully, they’ll get it soon.

Leo & Anto; April 24, 2014; Kiki's House of Righteous Music

I’ll be honest; I usually book things for me, but this show I booked specifically for my sister Liz and our friend Marcus.  The Saw Doctors is their favorite band, so when two of the members decided to do a series of small clubs and house concerts, they encouraged me to contact the booker.  As expected, they both loved it, but I was surprised how much I loved it.  I can’t imagine a more genuine pair, Leo Moran may have said “Thanks a million” a million times, but he meant it every time.  They had gotten into Madison the night before and Anto Thistlethwaite had called to see if I wanted to come meet them for a drink.  I can see doing that if they knew me, but they didn’t.  They were delighted with soundman Ron Dennis, who’s the best and most thorough sound guy I know, and that’s exactly why I asked him.  I was worried they might be high maintenance, their stage set-up sheet was the most specific I’d seen for a house concert, but they were the opposite. 

They’ve released two CDs of their own, Flyin’ It and Pushin’ It, on which they revisit a few Saw Doctors songs, but also feature many new songs.  I was surprised by how many Saw Doctors songs they did.  As he does on the CD, Anto covered Leo’s “Share the Darkness,” which he calls “his second favorite song that Leo’s ever written.  I wanted to do my favorite song of his, “All Kinds of Girls Make My Willy Go Hard,” but Leo doesn’t remember how it goes.”  Probably for the best.  They also did the title track to Villains, a true folk song on which they ponder who the real bad guys are.  The beautiful “True Love Stays with You Forever” was a treat, while “Tommy K,” which features its own dance that Liz and Marcus were happy to demonstrate, may have been the biggest surprise.  The night ended with the timeless “Clare Island” complete with sing-along and stroll around the basement.

In between were dozens of songs I’d never heard before, but that were instantly memorable.  Another Woody Guthrie moment came from the credit union song.  It’s a place where “they treat you like a person, not a pimple” and you could get a home renovation loan without anyone getting hurt.  “All credit!” Leo would sing, and we’d all answer back “You said it!”  “Carmel Mannion’s Son” came complete with an involved story, though not as long as the one that preceded their cover of Dylan’s “Most of the Time” wherein Anto was called upon to get Bob Dylan high, and a strange evening ensued.  Apparently, most of that story was true, or so they said.  

There were some notable folks in the audience tonight.  I’ve done 120 plus shows, and this was the first one my mom attended, thanks to another sister who drove down from Minnesota and didn’t give her a choice.  She may have thought it silly before, but I think she gets it now.  There were also many Irish ex-pats in the house, which was apparently more than expected.  Leo roundly made fun of the fact that the Irish are never on time for a show, due to their tendency to spend too much time in the pub beforehand.  “I’ve never had any other nationality ask for a song that’s already been played,” Leo mused.  When they protested he asked, “Who were the last people to arrive tonight?”  I was impressed he’d noticed.  There was much good natured ribbing between the performers too, mostly about the fact that an Irishman and an Englishman were getting along.  There’s more to Anto’s story than just being the bass player for the Saw Doctors for the last dozen years, he’s also a founding member of the Waterboys and played saxophone and mandolin with them.  He played both tonight, as well as guitar.  I am pretty sure that was the first sax in the basement.  Toward the end of the evening he did the Waterboys’ “Fisherman’s Blues,” which may have been my favorite song he did all night.  I told him about seeing Ted Leo sing it once, which he thought was pretty cool, even though he had no idea who Ted Leo was.

I haven’t been nervous about a show in a long time, but I was surprisingly nervous about this one.  I shouldn’t have been, they couldn’t have been more charming or grateful.  I’m pretty sure they will do it again sometime.

after the show...

John Darnielle (solo); April 20, 2014; Old Town School of Folk Music

I wasn’t cool in 1998 but I was lucky enough to have a friend who was, and he hipped me to all kinds of music I wouldn’t have heard on my own until years later.  I first saw the Mountain Goats at the Empty Bottle in 1999, opening was a teenage Conor Oberst, and it was love at first listen for me.  Back then the Goats’ John Darnielle was still making lo fi recordings, though by now he was releasing them on CD instead of the homemade cassettes he started out doing.  I loved those early records, the fuzzy home recordings were lyrically brilliant and the seemingly simple melodies infectious.  The Coroner’s Gambit and Tallahassee in 2000 and 2002 came as a surprise, those records actually sounded produced.  I felt bad, but they were my new favorite Mountain Goats records.  After that I kept buying the records, and they were all fine, but nothing came close to Gambit and Tallahassee.  Even the recent shows failed to move me, though admittedly I hadn’t seen one in seven years.  Still, when a friend asked if I wanted to see Darnielle play a solo show on Easter Sunday, I said yes, and just like that I was back in love with the Mountain Goats again.

He started off with a handful of old songs, the first going back all the way to Zeopilote Machine, his first real release.  He was going to play it, that is, if he could only remember the first line.  “Is (a name I’ve forgotten) here?”  When an answer came from somewhere in the audience, he asked “How does “Alpha In Taurus” start?”  Luckily his friend knew.  That was one of a handful of surprising songs that he played, many of them going way back in his career.  My two favorite records were featured heavily,  from Gambit came “Island Garden Song,” “There Will be No Divorce, and the urgent opening track “Jaipur.”  Of the latter he said he had put it on the set list the night before, but then skipped it, and that he was tempted to skip it again tonight.  In a moment of self-analysis, he decided he must have some sort of fear of that song that he was determined to overcome.  Once I heard which song it was, immediately identifiable by the opening line, “I had dreams of sugared pastries, cooked up in clarified butter,” I was happy he did.  Speaking of great lines, “No Divorce” has one of my all time favorites, “You gathered your hair behind your head, like god was going to catch you by the ponytail.

He moved between the piano and guitar, relishing the chance to play some of the slower songs that he doesn’t get a chance to perform with the band.  He talked about learning that everything didn’t have to be played at breakneck speed, it was OK to slow down the melody.  “In fact,” he quipped, “that’s how ‘Coroner’s Gambit’ came about.”  He picked a couple songs from the deeply personal Sunset Tree, which dealt with growing up in an abusive home.  “Dance Music” talks about finding an escape in records, while “This Year” is just about surviving.  He also took the opportunity to talk a lot about the songs and where they came from.  The unreleased “Song for Black Sabbath on Their Second US Tour” revealed an affection for Ozzy Osbourne that is only surprising if you don’t know Darnielle, he has a knack for finding the beauty in any style of music.  Witness his covers of “The Sign” or “FM.”  For example he finished the second encore with a gorgeous piano ballad version of Osbourne’s “Shot in the Dark.”

Perhaps the only song better was “No Children” from the amazing Tallahassee.  He preceded it with a rant about the days before no fault divorce, when you were forced to stay married to someone who would turn you into a shriveled husk of what you were if you didn’t have a good reason to not be together anymore.  It was especially cathartic to hear the crowd sing along with such hate filled lines as “I hope you die, I hope we both die,” and “Our friends say it’s darkest before the dawn, we’re pretty sure they’re all wrong.”  I couldn’t stop smiling that night and I have stopped smiling since.  It’s good to be in love again.