Category: “Hey, Fred!”

“Hey, Fred!”

An idiosyncratic, biased look at what this blog’s author most recommends this week.

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"Hey, Fred!" live music

Things I’ve Been Digging – 11/09/2020

Celebratory French 75s in the Saturday sun

Some deeply needed good news came out on Saturday and there wasn’t much better than playing classic Kenny Gamble, Spinners, Funkadelic, and Dirtbombs off our porch, bouncing between the sunlight and the champagne and friends. I hope we all remember the lesson that this success isn’t it and we keep working, but part of that work is rest and celebration. I found some art to love in that uncertainty before the news.

Darius Jones and band with singers and conductor at Roulette, taken from stream and edited

Music: Darius Jones: We Can Change This Country! presented by Roulette

In a time of perpetually scattered attention, I needed Darius Jones’ sweeping composition broadcast from one of the temples to new music that’s helped ground my life: Roulette from NYC. 

Inspired by the James Baldwin essay of the same name, Jones assembled a riveting quartet of Cooper-Moore on flute and banjo, Tanya Kalmanovitch on violin, Sean Conley on bass, and Gerald Cleaver on drums, and a who’s who of the best vocalists working in jazz, new music, and the avant-garde today: Gelsey Bell, Amanda Ekery, Jean Carla Rodea, Sara Serpa, Amirtha Kidambi, Yoon Sun Choi, Aviva Jaye, Charlotte Mundy, Fay Victor, Stephanie Lamprea, with heartbreaking film work from Laura Sofia Perez, under the baton of Darcy James Argue (whose sadly-even-more-relevant Real Enemies got a brilliant digital makeover from Cal Performances last month).

Darius Jones and his players/singers meet our tumultuous times with a steely gaze and a combined intensity and integrity. Wisps of shadowy flute melody and skittering drums surf on and get subsumed by wordless vocals, chilling laughter and sheep noises. Collaged snatches of dialogue reminded me of Rauschenberg and Nina Chanel Abney. 

We Can Change This Country! honors the Baldwin essay as a furious representation of a specific, unapologetic point of view, but avoiding the artless reportage that kind of polemic can get mired in. Jones uses all of his power as one of our finest composers and reed players to sculpt with the fire we’re living in and the fire it inspires inside him.

Jones moved me to tears when these voices, all held to the light with their distinctive facets and juxtaposed without smoothing the transitions, rose together on chants (most prominently “Vote him out”). More than any specific message – though the message is clear – that power when we rise together resonated through the bones of this piece and the blood of its viewers. I’m still unpacking this monumental work but it’s one of the finest things I’ve seen in years.

Mic Harrison and Don Coffey Jr, taken from the stream and edited

Music: Mic Harrison and the High Score at the Bijou Theatre

Friday night found me in touch with one of my favorite singer-songwriters in one of my favorite rooms. Anne said, as we were watching, that Mic Harrison is the perfect example of why someone would be in a scene. A vital utility player who stepped into two legendary Knoxville bands: classic alt.country unit The V-Roys (as they transitioned away from being The Viceroys) and powerpop juggernauts Superdrag, for the last 15 years Harrison has put out one classic, crisp record as a leader after another. 

Harrison’s properly celebrated his latest, Bright Spot, in this 100-year-old theater with a barbed-wire-tight version of The High Score including his Superdrag collaborator Don Coffey Jr on drums, for a stream that sounded as good as I’ve heard that room sound and I’ve been in every corner for most of my favorite Big Ears Festival performances. 

Harrison and the High Score doled out meaty, lithe roots-rock featuring some of the biggest hooks Harrison has ever written – the gang chorus on “Used to Be Somebody” was an arrow struck right into my chest – and soulful slow burns like the aching “Back to Knoxville.” He also took time to highlight songs by guitarists Robbie Trosper and Kevin Abernathy. 

By the time they slid into the encore with Harrison’s classic The V-Roys Beatles homage “Sooner or Later,” there were tears in my eyes.

Joel Ross and band, taken from livestream and edited.

Music: Joel Ross’ Good Vibes at Berlin Jazzfest

Joel Ross is killing it this year: he released one of my favorite jazz records, in a crowded field, earlier this fall; he was a highlight in the mind-blowing Makaya McCraven show I was lucky enough to see at Webster Hall in January; he’s brightening so many other artists’ work. 

While it’s never the same as being in the room, Berlin Jazzfest did a spectacular job partnering with Roulette (mentioned above) for paired sets from both shores. Ross and his band wove intricate magic, undulating conversations, burning dialogue and cut-crystal ballads, tossing between the immaculate melodic bass lines of Kanoa Mendenhall through the intertwined lines of Ross’ vibes and Jeremy Cohen’s piano into Brandee Younger’s harp, Immanuel Wilkins’ alto and Jeremy Dutton’s gravitational pull drums. This was the perfect thing for me to hear right before the election got called.

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"Hey, Fred!" live music theatre

Things I’ve Been Digging – 11/02/2020

Backyard Firepit with friends

Had a harder time connecting and concentrating this week, but some time with friends helped and I still found a few unalloyed joys.

Death of the Last Black Man in the Whole Entire World, promotional photo from Signature Theatre’s website

Theater: The Death of the Last Black Man in the Whole Entire World aka The Negro Book of the Dead by Suzan-Lori Parks, directed by Lileana Blain-Cruz reunion reading presented by Signature.

Suzan Lori-Parks was probably the first contemporary playwright I loved with the same fervor as the classics I grew up with. I read Topdog/Underdog at least a dozen times before getting my mind blown with CATCO’s visceral production in 2004 and I’ve been a rabid fan ever since. Most recently, I saw a riveting revival of her Death of the Last Black Man in 2016 right after the last election.

It gave me immense joy to revisit that work with a reunion of that cast under the same director, Liliena Blain-Cruz. Parks uses rich mythic language to revisit the death of the play’s eponymous black man, from different angles and with different emotional beats, and in doing so opens up and celebrates his life over and over again.

It felt as urgent in 2016 as it was when it premiered in 1990, and seeing it four years later with peril out in the open, shoved in the faces of those of us who might have had the luxury of looking away before, was a gorgeous volcano of our shared pain and joy.

Mountain Goats, screenshot taken from livestream and edited

Music: Mountain Goats, presented by Noonchorus

Both full-band streams – the second was Thursday the 29th – from a studio in North Carolina to celebrate the release of their excellent Getting Into Knives record find John Darnielle’s Mountain Goats continuing their hot streak creatively and releasing the pent-up energy we’re all feeling at not being able to live the life they’ve grown into.

That Faulkner line about the only subject worth writing is man in conflict with himself and Mary Oliver’s line about paying attention as our endless and proper work always come to mind when I think about the Mountain Goats. He melds those impulses together and finds, in that conflict, in that attention, a way to celebrate. 

Both shows hit the wild extremes of emotion Darnielle crafts so well, and his brilliant use of the push-and-pull of a set list. The first stream, on the 22nd, was riddled with highlights. He paired two songs off Transcendental Youth, the gut-punch of shame in “Cry For Judas” with that terrible ambiguity wrapped in a sunny singalong hook, “Long black night, morning frost – I’m still here but all is lost,” sets us up for the celebration and encouragement of “Amy aka Spent Gladiator 1”: “Find limits past the limits, jump in front of trains all day, and stay alive. Just stay alive.” 

The second was full of highlights – a simmering “Stabbed to Death Outside San Juan”, a joyous, raging “Foreign Object” but two moments near the middle of the set still haunt me a couple days later. The low-at-the-heels vignette “Lakeside View Apartments Suite” hit this perfect note of devastation in the synchronicity of text and singing with “Ray left a message thumbtacked to the door. I don’t even bother trying to read them anymore,” and then this pause weighed down with regret that’s as bleak and beautiful as the “Scuse me while I disappear” on Sinatra’s best version of “Angel Eyes” or the stutter into smoke on Basinski’s “Disintegration Loops”. Not long after that, on “International Small Arms Traffic Blues” he delivers “My love is like a powder keg” with no wink or any bravado, it’s the perfect distillation of a character with nothing left to lose or offer but an earnest truth.

The encores – if you can call them that here – both ended with the closest thing he’s produced to a hit, the perennial, everyone-finds-their-meaning perfection of “This Year.” The first show followed it with another classic climax, “No Children” with jokes from the band about how odd it is to play it without people screaming along “I hope you die, I hope we both die.” The latter went into the more subdued “Spent Gladiator 2,” about shrugging off the expectations of a life and learning to live with them, finding some last bit of defiance in the throes of exhaustion.

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"Hey, Fred!" live music theatre

Things I’ve Been Digging – 10/26/2020

Fall is benefitting from more seasoning to groups trying to make work in this difficult time and time to adjust to the new tools and circumstances. Almost like a real October, I was excited by more than I had time to fit in even if more of it was on my own couch. This week does not look to let up. What are you all enjoying?

From left, Bobby Floyd and Byron Stripling. Screenshots taken from stream and edited

Music: One Night Only, an annual fundraiser for the Jazz Arts Group

I don’t go to the Columbus Jazz Orchestra as often as I probably should, but every year brings a reminder of what a stellar organization we’re lucky to have. As the current director – great trumpeter, damn fine bandleader, and one of the best cheerleaders for jazz or any music any city is lucky to have – Byron Stripling said in his introduction, Ray Eubanks created a fantastic nonprofit that’s benefiting this city with its relationships with touring artists, composers, and soloists and especially its world-renowned education program.

Usually this great event either falls on a Pink Elephant Friday or when we’re out of town so taking part delighted me – and the execution warmed my heart. It’s hard to beat a house band like the Bobby Floyd Trio. They provided muscular and delicate support to Stripling on swaggering classics like “You’d Be So Nice to Come Home To” and “When The Saints Go Marching In.”

Fruits from the educational arm of JAG provided highlights throughout the program. Floyd played jubilant, three-dimensional organ behind young phenom Micah Thomas (who I saw bring the house down in a CJO performance with John Clayton and Joshua Redman and has a debut album collecting raves this year) on “Maple Leaf Rag.” 

A tight quintet of Columbus Youth Jazz Orchestra alums who are setting local stages on fire these days, including George DeLancey and Reggie Jackson, tore through Hank Marr’s epic late-night anthem “Greasy Spoon.” Another nod to Columbus history came with vocalist-on-the-rise Sydney McSweeney blowing the roof off on the Frank Loesser standard “Never Will I Marry,” whose definitive version came from legendary Columbus diva Nancy Wilson.

This was a stunning reminder of the beautiful jazz scene nurtured in this town, where it stands right now, and will be whenever we come out of this and can all be together.

From left: Laura Benanti, Antonio Banderas and Orchestra, IMAKEMADBEATS. Screenshots taken from stream and edited

Music: Tuesday Communing: Musicians for Marquita presented by Third Man Records and Moving Forward by the Public Theater.

My favorite season still drenches me in a little taste of the Fall FOMO. With that, I flipped back and forth between two streams that epitomize what music and theater can do at their best, a sense of community, connection, and transcendence.

Third Man Records in Nashville threw an old-school telethon, replete with cheesy counting board, phone bank, and an enthusiastic host in Cocaine and Rhinestones host Tyler Mahan Coe, to benefit Senate candidate Marquita Bradshaw.

Between raising over $15,000, they packed these three hours with a dazzling cross-section of current Tennessee music, poetry, and comedy. Standards and classics made an appearance, including Kathy Mattea’s nuanced take on Tom Paxton’s “Whose Garden Was This,” Steelism’s gorgeous pedal steel-driven instrumental cover of “People Get Ready,” Logan Ledger’s stirring read of “Walk Through This World With Me,” and Lolo’s epic “Ooh Child.”

Hip-hop, probably the most prominent genre people my age and younger associate with Tennessee, showed up strong, including the fun, disco-tinged instrumentals of Memphis’ IMAKEMADBEATS, an excellent tune from Daisha McBride, and others. I regret not catching the name of the first act – drop it in the comments if you were more on the ball? – another instrumental hip-hop act started the evening off with one of its highlights: a cut-up of Bradshaw’s speeches interwoven with toffee-sweet-and-crunchy synth lines and stutter beats.

One highlight of this was the proximity of the artists, and the leveling the telethon interspersed superstars like Emmylou Harris and Rodney Crowell, Robyn Hitchcock and Emma Swift, or Margo Price with lifers like John Paul Keith – who brought the house down with his topical “I Don’t Want to Live in a World Like That” – freak-folk stalwarts The Cherry Blossoms and the duo of John McCauley and Vanessa Carlton.

These artists rubbed (virtual) shoulders with on-the-rise acts like the singer of Thema and the Sleaze, Caitlin Rose (who I’ve been a massive fan of since The Stand-In and her new song “We’re Only Lovers and They’re Only Lies” made me even hungrier for a new album), Caroline Spence, and Birds of Chicago.

Everything about Musicians for Marquita was so charming and so well done that I felt a pang when I flipped to the other good choice that evening, but I got rewarded when I did.

It’s a rare year when The Public doesn’t make my year-end list – this year’s going to be no exception with some stellar stuff from Under The Radar in January. Their more polished benefit was full of sincere gushing – from stars like David Hyde Pierce, John Leguizamo, and Phylicia Rashad – we all feel in our hearts.

The Public also made time to acknowledge what we’ve lost in time and gathering, with a lovely song from The Visitor (which was in rehearsals when the order came down) and a preview of Under the Greenwood Tree, which would have revived its 2017 production for all of New York at the free Shakespeare in the Park series.

The music was less the focus here, but everything was brilliantly done, including Antonio Banderas and Laura Benanti’s duet for the ages on A Chorus Line; Sting with “Practical Arrangement,” a witty ballad from his own Public-aided musical The Last Ship; and a heart-wrenching closer I missed the performer’s name on, from a musical adaptation of Disney’s Hercules, with the echoing line “Though it hurts to be human, count me in.”

From Left, Colin Gawel with Sam Brown; Marcy Mays with Andy Harrison and Sam Brown

Music: Marcy Mays and Colin Gawel at Ace of Cups.

Pulling along that thread of “count me in,” went to see my first live music (aside from a few songs for Anne’s birthday the Stockweliots’ back yard) since the shutdown, on the patio of the last bar I was in before everything closed (and the home of the most shows I’d seen before lockdown), Ace of Cups. 

It was slow going before local hero Kyle Sowash stepped up to book some shows on Ace’s patio and this went a long way to provide a template for safely throwing shows for intimate crowds in these times (I’ve also heard very good things about Natalie’s efforts in this direction). We caught two great friends who also did a lot to represent Columbus music to the outside world in the mid-’90s. 

Marcy Mays, Ace owner and one of my favorite Columbus songwriters, opened with a set of raw magic on her electric guitar, backed for about half of it by veterans Andy Harrison on guitar and bass (doubling on sound) and Sam Brown on drums. Mays hit Scrawl classics like “Please Have Everything” (which she announced was inspired by the late D. Boon) and “Your Mother Wants to Know” along with tunes by her more recent bands like The Damn Thing and a blistering song by her underrated hard rock juggernaut Night Family (featuring what Harrison called “a dose of cock rock ridiculousness” on a perfect over-the-top solo).

Gawel picked up Mays’ smoking gauntlet, and gave us one of his best, most focused solo sets in recent memory. Opening with new material could be a risky move with as beloved a catalogue as his, but his opening gambit, “Sensational Things,” was as good a song as he’s written, finding a sweet spot in the kind of paean to finding peace and stability that’s even harder to write than it is to live. Most of the other new songs were also winners, especially “Standing On the Rocks” with a big, infectious hook I still have in my head writing this the next day.

Gawel filled the rest of the set with Watershed crowd-pleasers including his tangy Kinks riff “Small Doses”, “Mercurochrome”, and aching ballad “Over Too Soon” and highlights of his Lonely Bones/Bowlers’ work with “Superior”’s undeniable hook and the cajun shuffle “Chemotherapy.” 

He also sprinkled some brilliant covers through the set. “Over Too Soon” turned into a humid version of one of the best Replacements’ songs, “Swinging Party.” An appropriately caustic version of The Kinks’ “Property” prompted “God, I have to do something sweet after that.” And his encore started with a righteous version of Columbus rock godfather Willie Phoenix’s “Hey Little Girl,” returning Sam Brown to the drums.

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"Hey, Fred!" live music theatre

Things I’ve Been Digging – 10/19/2020

David Murray Trio, screenshot taken from livestream and edited

Music: David Murray Trio and William Parker’s In Order to Survive Quintet

Free jazz holds a special place in my heart, no other music quite makes my nerves vibrate the same way. Like so many other traditions, William Parker’s fabled Vision Festival pivoted to online, and I was lucky enough to find out about it in time for the last day which featured two titans. 

David Murray and William Parker were both gateway drugs for me. Murray, I think I discovered through Zach Bodish making a suggestion at Singing Dog Records in high school or early college, Parker I learned about through John Corbett’s Extended Play (if there’s a Virgil to my journey through music fandom, it’s probably Corbett). For the last 20+ years, seeing them in places like The Iridium, The Stone, the basement of CBGB’s, I’ve always found something new and refreshing from these wells.

Murray’s new trio of Luke Stewart on bass and Ronnie Burrage on drums, painted supple, sinewy backdrops for Murray’s gorgeous tone. He’s refined the vocal, gospel-tinged attack and warm, organic melodies feel lived in without sacrificing their surprise. There were righteous shouts, low whispers, and a tangle of melancholy and joy in an extended weaving-together of songs by California friends of his. 

Parker’s In Order to Survive Quintet, one of my favorite of his smaller groups, did what they do: built universes out of engaged empathy and conversation. Rob Brown’s alto and James Brandon Lewis’s tenor jousted and danced, leaping into space and setting up landing pads for the rest of the band to play with. Parker’s thick, unmistakable tone seemed to create many centers of gravity at once, Gerald Cleaver’s chunky, melodic drumming and Cooper-Moore’s precious-stone-mosaic piano built towers for the music to run through.

Mary Halvorson, taken from livestream and edited

Music: Thumbscrew, presented by Roulette

I’m sure I’ve told this repeatedly in blogs but I still distinctly remember the first time I saw Mary Halvorson, playing in Trevor Dunn’s Trio Convulsant at Bowery Poetry Club on a stuffed art rock bill that turned me onto so many other great bands – Dr. Nerve, The Zs, Friendly Bears – I was there to see my pal Mike Gamble play in Mike Pride’s great band Snuggle/Stencil but Halvorson’s playing was the main thing I took away with me into the night. 

I saw her two months later in one of Gerard Cox’s invaluable series, a duo with violist Jessica Pavone, at the much-missed ACME Art Company, cementing my fandom; she’s been one of my very favorite guitarist’s ever since. That rabid fandom still burns just as bright 15 years later.

Halvorson’s career is marked by immaculate taste, in her playing and in collaborators: the long-running collective trio Thumbscrew with bass player Michael Formanek and drummer Tomas Fujiwara is emblematic of this wide-ranging taste and approach.

To celebrate Halvorson’s 40th birthday, she and Thumbscrew played a gorgeous, riveting retrospective set at Brooklyn temple to the avant-garde, Roulette. It’s a tribute to the magic of improvisation and the intricate, organic writing of the trio that catchy cells of melody melted into rivers of cracked sound; mosaics slipped out of my grasp and new secrets blossomed in another light; wine-dark cascades parted to reveal silver melodies.

This was everything I want out of improvised and jazz-based music, and shows an artist with no signs of stopping. I hope to follow Halvorson’s guitar for another 30 years.

Nesba Crenshaw and Ro Boddie, taken from livestream and edited

Theater: Far Away by Caryl Churchill, directed by Cheryl Faraone, presented by PTP/NYC

Caryl Churchill has long been one of my favorite playwrights, but I’d never seen her 2000 short Far Away so this excellent streaming production from PTP/NYC was more than welcomed from me.

Far Away takes a variety of looks at a civilization crumbling, with Harper (Nesba Crenshaw) trying to explain to her niece Joan (Lilah May Pfeiffer as a child) and keep an unsteady balance with Todd (Ro Boddie) who also has a complicated relationship with Joan as an adult (Caitlin Duffy). 

Faraone gets excellent performances and masterfully turns up a simmering heat that belies the distance of zoom. Every one of these four cast members knows how to shift from absurd, almost surreal details hinting at their grim reality, into bright humor, and a tenderness bent and twisted by a life lived under a heavy shadow. Far Away is a beautiful tonic that reflects our tumultuous moment – despite being written twenty years ago in a different darkness – that never inspires despair even as it acknowledges the storm.

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"Hey, Fred!" live music

Things I’ve Been Digging – 10/12/2020

Bethany Thomas and band, screenshot taken from livestream and edited

Music: Bethany Thomas album release show, The Hideout

The Hideout is another of those clubs I mentioned in an earlier column trying to convert itself to a subscription model for subsistence in these keep-away times. And while I’m rooting for every single place (and person) I love, I might be rooting the hardest for the Hideout. 

It’s not the first club I went to in Chicago (that would be Schuba’s or The Empty Bottle) but it’s the place I’ve had the best batting average of life-altering shows, happy hours, and the place that most feels like Chicago to me. It’s not really a trip if I don’t darken that dance floor at least once.

That feeling flooded my bones with this week’s release party for Bethany Thomas’s triumphant rock record BT / She / Her. I learned about Thomas with Jon Langford’s Four Lost Souls project. Once I picked my jaw off the floor, I dug deeper and found she’s representative of so much I love about the intertwining, us-against-the-world, everyone-together scene in Chicago. She’s worked with so many people I’m a massive fan of including JC Brooks and Robbie Fulks and set their world-class theater scene on fire in classics like Into the Woods and A Moon for the Misbegotten.

This first taste of her work as a songwriter and bandleader cracked my rib cage open. With a tight five-piece band that could go anywhere she led them, spread out on the floor for appropriate distancing, she unfurled what would be hit after hit in a just world. The snarling, volcanic Cramps riffs underpinned the righteous declarations of “I’m Not Sorry and I’m Not Scared.” “De-Escalator” took a slow-burning, taunting waltz dripping in drama worthy of classic Marc Almond, “You can’t walk this line forever” burned right onto the back of my skull. 

“70th Long Song” dragged a castanets-keyed Spector-style stomp by its collar into the here and now. “Walls + Ceilings” builds from haunting Led Zeppelin/Fairport Convention-style rolling acoustic guitar into a crashing tidal wave. She plays with classic Thin Lizzy/Aerosmith guitar dueling and drum triplets on the infectious “Smoke” and haunting soul cries the expansive, cinematic “The Waves.” 

There wasn’t a weak tune here, maybe my favorite new artist of the year.

Kris Davis, screenshot taken from livestream and edited

Music: Thelonious Monk Birthday Celebration – Helen Sung, Kris Davis, and Joanne Brackeen at SFJAZZ.

SFJAZZ pulls another astonishing set out of the archive for their Fridays at Five series. This, the night before Monk’s birthday, from one of their recurring Thelonious Monk tributes a few birthdays ago, linked three exemplars of contemporary jazz piano for a night of deep fireworks: Helen Sung, Kris Davis, and Joanne Brackeen.

The direct collaborations – two pianos were on stage at all times – dazzled me most. Sung and Davis teamed up on an expansive, rich, and twisting “Blue Monk.” That tune was the first taste that got me hooked, the song where I knew I was listening to Monk, this was what everyone was talking about, and I fucking love it present tense. So I have high expectations. Similarly, high expectations played into this because Davis might be my favorite my-age-or-younger piano player, she’s blown me away for a lot of years in a lot of rooms as anyone who’s read a best-of of mine can attest. This soared right through the membrane of those hopes, as maybe my favorite version of the tune burst before my eyes.

The finale on “Straight No Chaser” with Brackeen at one piano and Sung and Davis four-handing the other, took that chestnut into the wild flights of invention that only happen when a great artist grapples with material they love on the same level. 

That love also bubbled out of a brilliant mosaic version of “52nd Street Theme” by Davis. For a heart-stopping “Rhythm-a-ning” by Brackeen, she reminded us of her first-hand experience with this history, “Did anyone ever see Thelonious Monk? He danced on the bandstand,” and, grinning, reminded the room of her playing the tune with Freddie Hubbard in the early ‘80s, “I thought I should play the melody this time,” instead of leaving it to a horn.

A phenomenal set of some of the finest compositions of the 20th century played as well as we’re likely to ever be lucky to hear. And a reminder to do what we can – and agitate the powers that be – to make sure temples to culture like this survive these times along with us.

Joanne Brackeen and Kris Davis, taken from livestream and edited
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"Hey, Fred!" books dance live music

Things I’ve Been Digging – 10/05/2020

Talk: Virtual Bodies: Bill Chats – Ricardo Montez, Bill T. Jones in Conversation with Ricardo Montez, moderated by Joshua Lubin-Levy

I’ve been trying to stir in some more talks and workshops into the weekly diet of internet consumption, the same way I try to keep a rotation of weightier books and comfort food books. I struck gold this week with a conversation between the choreographer/organizer Bill T. Jones and professor/writer Ricardo Montez, sparked by Montez’s new book Keith Haring’s Line: Race and the Performance of Desire.

Jones’ early work is inextricably tied to the vibrant early ‘80s New York downtown milieu that captivated my peer group 15-20 years later and still feels fresh, striking, and full of life. Particular attention often focuses on Jones’ collaboration with his friend, the painter Keith Haring – the famous photo of Haring painting Jones’ nude body adorns the cover of Montez’s study.

Their conversation ranged from the intersection of race with abstraction, Jones reminiscing about the small number of black artists playing at The Kitchen in that era (“George Lewis, Douglas Ewart, maybe Bebe [Miller]”), and the need for irreverence and engaging with your own time.

Jones balancing his role as an elder statesman and a survivor, a witness, always inspires. Reflecting on his transition into his current roles and what keeps him motivated, he mused, “Do you still believe in beauty, Bill?” and sang a snatch of the standard, “Have I Stayed Too Long At The Fair,” his famous collaborator/companion/muse Arnie Zane’s favorite song.

There were so many lines here that struck me like a molten nail into grey flesh. Of the iconic cover image, he said, “Do I have the guts to do anything like that anymore? Can I be generous like that?” Jones described his goal as “How can I find the fervor of my Mother’s prayers in formalism?” And the thing I’m thinking about nailing like a thesis above my writing desk, his provocation to Montez, “Artists should always be in the face of academia saying, ‘You think you can capture this butterfly?’”

John Hiatt and Lilly Hiatt, taken from the livestream and edited

Music: John and Lilly Hiatt, presented by Topeka

John Hiatt and his daughter Lilly have crafted catalogues of songs that dig as deep into the joy of connections and the reason we live as anyone else I can think of. Joy and pain aren’t discrete objects and neither are community and self for either of them. Hiatt’s career, at least since his ‘80s comeback Bring The Family is littered with gems, songs that make people want to sing (I promise, if your town has a bar with music back, someone is covering “Memphis in the Meantime” right this second). 

And especially with her last two records, Lilly is keeping him on his toes. As John said in this stream, “She just writes these amazing songs that make me try to keep up.” Their easy camaraderie, affection, and respect made this livestream deeply comfortable and exciting at the same time; that layer of familial affection didn’t create tension, but it also didn’t smooth out this classic guitar-pull style show.

Songs aren’t mirrors and they aren’t autobiography but it’s hard for a fan to not read a little of that even for those of us who are text essentialists. In that spirit, the father and daughter – who have been open about their struggles – singing together on two of the finest songs ever written about recovery moved me deeply. Lilly’s “Walking Proof,” the title track of her beautiful new album, had John’s authoritative and sweet growl rise to join hers on the chorus’s plea for acceptance and connection: “I could tell you that it’s easy but that wouldn’t be the truth; If you ever need to call me, well, you know there’s walking proof.” 

Later in the set, John’s anthem to those same materials of life, “Through Your Hands” shot into the stratosphere with a light injection of Lilly’s wry harmony as they danced through “And you ask, ‘What am I not doing?’ She said, ‘Your voice cannot command. In time you will move mountains. It will come through your hands.’”

They each had eight songs in the main set, with a two-song encore. John closed with the closest he’s written to a standard, “Have a Little Faith in Me,” that still jerks tears free when I’m not expecting it. With all the connotations of thirty years in our hearts and being covered by so many people, that sets a standard for the other encore.

Lilly met that energy with “Imposter,” a slow-burn highlight from her breakthrough Trinity Lane about her famous father. I loved “Imposter” before it finished the very first time I played it and I’m still beguiled by its ferocious empathy and its delicate power, its rock-solid sense of perspective even through its whip-crack shifting. It accomplishes an impressionistic, all-angles-of-a-perspective feat that makes me think of “Famous Blue Raincoat;” it’s one of the great songs of the 21st century so far.

From left: Jose James with band, Taali. Taken from the livestream and edited

Music: Jose James with Taali at Le Poisson Rouge

I’m keeping my fingers crossed for every venue I love to make it through to the end of this and watching with interest as they create alternative models to live. Without being privy to the finances of these places, I’m most heartened by the subscription efforts, treating a venue a little like public radio until we can pack in and buy beer. 

The big one here is Smalls which shows up in this column regularly but with October 1st, another of my favorite venues, Le Poisson Rouge in lower Manhattan, launched LPR.tv with an exciting slate that goes a long way to capture their diverse, open-ears booking. Saturday, I caught jazz singer Jose James (who also had Harlem Stage release the archived recording of his dazzling tribute to Billie Holliday to Youtube this week) with an opening set by Taali.

Taali’s spacious and incisive synth and vocal sculptures captivated me. She roamed from her finely wrought originals – “I’ll Meet You” haunted me with its sliding descent through the hook “I will take you home,” – to well-chosen covers. The latter included a lovely Regina Spektor piece, a mesmerizing version of Leonard Cohen’s “Hey, That’s No Way to Say Goodbye” that sounded like melting ice slipping off scaffolding onto concrete and slipping away into fractal patterns and steam on its way to return to water, and a gorgeous multi-tracked vocal on a Jewish hymn she introduced as “The song my parents walked down the aisle to.”

James brought a crack band to that stage I love so much to celebrate a 10th anniversary reissue of his breakout sophomore record Blackmagic. “Code” featured crisp keys from Big Yuki and a burst of acidic guitar by Marcus Machado before he broke down the repeated line “Don’t forget what my name is,” with a jazz singer’s improvisational excitement, a slam poet’s sense of digging up everything a word means through repetition and a DJ’s Burroughs cut-up sense of rhythmic possibility. The rest of the record got the same careful treatment, slow-burn ballads and dancefloor smashes and intriguing riddles.

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"Hey, Fred!" live music Uncategorized

Things I’ve Been Digging – 09/28/2020 (Gonerfest Edition)

Jack Oblivian and The Sheiks, taken from livestream and edited

It’s no secret that I’ve had massive festival fatigue the last few years. I don’t think culture’s primary or best purpose is as a destination vacation. The music – film, theater, books – we love should be part of our day-to-day lives, the food we eat, the air we breathe, and especially the conversations we have.

But as with anything, there are exceptions. At its best, a festival adds to that community; it enriches those lives. A good festival draws tribes together, it celebrates the good work they’ve done, it makes connections, and it plants seeds to grow back in our own communities.

I’ve been lucky to know several of these festivals but my favorite is Gonerfest, deep in Memphis and run by the estimable record store and label Goner Records. With an eye to keeping us all safe in this pandemic, like so many festivals have, they pivoted to digital.

In doing so, my favorite music festival cut a template for any other festival. Gonerfest did the best job I’ve seen in these 6 months of lockdown: they captured everything I wanted from the festival except being in Memphis. And they almost got that!

Dick Move, taken from livestream and edited

One of my favorite things about this switch to online is it amplified the one thing all of us being in the room doesn’t give us: a look at how we’re living. The creative use of everyone’s home turf made my heart swell in my chest: Toads’ punky exuberance on their home turf at Oakland’s 1-2-3-4-Go record store; Nick Allison’s set in fellow Austin band Golden Boys’ art gallery; Columbus heroes Cheater Slicks in a college auditorium beautifully filmed by Guinea Worms’ Wil Foster; Oh Boland in the grass of Galway.

And my favorite, New Zealand taking advantage of their well-managed take on the crisis by throwing a real show: five bands in an actual club (Whammy Bar that’s on my list if I ever make it close to that part of the world again). Two previous Goner favorites delivered and cemented my love for them: Bloodbags’ muscular, thoughtful rock, and the intoxicating dual-vocal swirl and slicing acid trail guitar of Na Noise. The other three bands brought it, Ounce’s twin drummer Sabbath-fried choogle and Dick Move’s swinging rhythm and witty, clipped songs made them among my favorite new bands, as Guardian Singles’ searing pop vibrated the molecules all the way here.

Michael Beach, taken from livestream and edited

It’s not Gonerfest if I don’t discover at least a handful of new favorite bands. Beyond the Kiwis mentioned above, I fell hard for the crispy-edged Stonesy Americans of Michael Beach and Nick Allison & The Players Lounge and the skewed anthems of The Exbats, a trio with a dazzling lead singer behind the drums.

The regulars also came out swinging hard. Jack Oblivian and The Sheiks kicked things off with a rugged, sultry set from the beautiful twilight panorama of Midtown from the rooftop of Crosstown Arts. Zerodent bit off twitching, aggressive postpunk. True Sons of Thunder set a surging baseline and got me excited for their new full-length on Total Punk. Aquarian Blood continued to grow into their beautifully textured take on moody British folk.

Toads, taken from livestream and edited

Goner has always done a great job with side activities and they excelled here with a chat room, Zoom “bars” and a killer slate of films and talks. My favorite was the footage of the documentary on Memphis-centered civil rights group The Invaders with one of central participants and the soundtrack composer King Khan (who played the first Gonerfest, MC’ed Saturday’s day show, and introduced excellent sets by his daughters, Saba Lou and Bella and the Bizarre) but I was also entranced by This Film Should Not Exist, about a shambling Country Teasers/Oblivians tour, and Tyler Keith’s (Apostles, Neckbones, Preacher’s Kids) deep dive into Hill Country gospel and blues with jaw-dropping footage of Shardé Thomas, RL Burnside, and Rev. John Wilkins.

The thing I hope most for – on that secondary list after staying healthy, employed, warm – in this moment is that collectively we’re able to meet in person and feel the heat of music together next year. But I’m also warmed by this feeling of being less alone and getting to do something with my friends. Even from our own houses.

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"Hey, Fred!" Pink Elephant Lounge Playlist

Notes on a Mix for the 10th Anniversary Pink Elephant that Shifted to the Ether

Representative photo of the party with cherished regulars.

Pink Elephant – full name: Open Bar at Jerry Courtney’s Pink Elephant Lounge – is probably the best thing I do every month it happens. For damn sure the thing the most people talk about and the thing that makes the widest cross-section of people happy. And it wouldn’t have even come close to happening without Anne Courtney. I did not want to commit to one entire Friday night a month when we started; it took serious arm-twisting and persuasion.

More to the point, it wouldn’t be anywhere near the success it is without Anne’s tireless enthusiasm and a hell of a lot of work, 90% hers, every single time (we switched to quarterly after seven years of monthly-unless-we’re-out-of-town). I clean up after; I provide some minor hosting duties; but everything that makes the party is Anne. Months I’m not feeling it, her enthusiasm buoys me and keeps the engine running.

If you’ve ever been to one and had a good time, take a second to thank her. I definitely am. And, of course, when and if we’re all safe to congregate, show your thanks by coming out. There will be another cold drink and a gauntlet of smiles and hugs to run.

So, since we’re celebrating at quite a distance this time – doubly a bummer because it’s the big anniversary and we had some fun plans – I’m doing a greatest-hits mix. Things you’ve heard if you’ve ever been at a party early enough or late enough the speakers were audible over the din and things that I think sum up a subset of the hours-long kitchen sink mixes I queue up and let run throughout the party (with some “judicious” choosing as we get late).

Think of these notes on the songs as my enthusiastic rambles by the porch steps or the fireplace. Enjoy if you have the time or interest but far, far from essential.

This will be streamed on Radio 614 (thank you, Radio 614 folks) 6-8 pm the day of the virtual party, listen in with us! As usual, I made the playlist with more songs than would fit so what’s not in the Radio 614 stream are labeled as bonus tracks but left in their original sequence.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4N1ET5ullmR3qcTDRF4rlL

Continue reading for notes.

Continue reading “Notes on a Mix for the 10th Anniversary Pink Elephant that Shifted to the Ether”
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"Hey, Fred!" live music

Things I’ve Been Digging – 06/17/18

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Friends at Char Bar

“It’s hard to fight torpor.” That line popped up in Paul Schrader’s much-anticipated return to non-franchise filmmaking First Reformed and, to mangle Bob Dylan, both “rang true and glowed like burning coals” while I watched the film with my pal Rob. The movie wasn’t an official “thing I dug,” more “thing I’m glad I saw for the interesting nougat when it got out of its own way.”

But what spoke to me was the questions it posed about the point at which we’re no longer worth forgiveness; the way shitty means of coping build up and rust over for us like dumping Pepto Bismol in a glass of scotch (one of my favorite gross-out images from the film); and how difficult it is to break out of a rut before we’re ground just that smooth.

Lighter load this week because much of it was catching up with old friends, in town for the Origins Game Fair and elsewhere. The bookend photos come from these long nights of laughter.

Brett Burleson/Josh Hindmarsh/Doug Richeson (Dick’s Den, June 13, 2018)

The tradition of turning a Wednesday over to one artist for a residency at Dick’s Den is one of my favorite things in this town. In a no-pressure setting, someone can worry over new material, reform old collaborative groups, work with people they don’t usually, bring friends up on stage, or do all of these. That tradition is a prism refracting the light of everything I love about Columbus and especially everything I love about the nexus that is Dick’s Den when you get an artist with the kind of ranging tastes in material, style, and players as Brett Burleson.

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From left: Burleson, Hindmarsh, Richeson

Brett Burleson and Josh Hindmarsh have a tradition of playing gypsy jazz songs – and other tunes in that style best known for Django Reinhardt. Wednesday, they rounded the trio out with Grammy-winning bassist Doug Richeson. Jazzcolumbus impresario and great friend Andrew Patton and I stopped in expecting one round and half an hour of pleasant entertainment. I staggered home at 1:30am after two full sets. Picking my jaw off the floor.

Richeson’s expansive warmth provided the perfect backdrop for those two guitars and the handful of guests. It was immediately easy to see why vocalists kept the bassist in demand, including Tony Bennett. In that same spirit, the word that kept springing to mind for everyone on stage was conversational.

Burleson almost reminded me of Keith Richards here, his unshakable rhythm shifted from a straight up-and-down in line with the period they recalled through something more organic and modern, teasing textures from Hindmarsh’s leads and occasionally unfurling solos that were shocking in their grace and concision.

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From left: Burleson, Hindmarsh, Kahn, Richeson

In the full, proper Dick’s spirit, unannounced guests enlivened the proceedings. Michael Kahn, on his way from another gig, brought his soulful soprano. He painted with glowing color, in step with the other three musicians but drawing them out into the less-chartered water. Local DJ, promoter, and singer-songwriter (as Whipped Dream) Laelia Delaney Davis sat in on vocals for the Gershwins’ “S’wonderful” that balanced lushness and restraint like a cool breeze on a sticky evening.

The trio-plus ran a gamut of classics in the style. Their take on Reinhardt’s own “Minor Swing” that felt like a beautifully restored piece of clockwork. Their “Take the A Train” vibrated the room with a propulsive bounce. Their Monk was a sensual, spiraling puzzle. The originals held their own against these time-forged tunes because nothing was played with a preciousness; again and again, we were reminded this was neither museum nor mausoleum.

Coming Up: Dave Alvin and Jimmie Dale Gilmore (Valleydale Ballroom, June 22, 2018; tickets here)

 

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Courtesy of davealvin.net

 

When two riders of the river of American music, Dave Alvin and Jimmie Dale Gilmore, teamed up a couple years ago it was one of the most no-brainer collaborations most of us could possibly imagine. These two share an encyclopedic knowledge of everything roots music, marrow-deep empathy for people, and a love of sharing stories.

Their first collaborative record features a couple excellent new originals – including the title track, like a couple of winking outlaws filling out a declarations form at the border – and more of the stunning interpretations they’ve both become more known for over the last few years, giving classics an intensely personal spin. Woody Guthrie’s “Deportee – Plane Wreck at Los Gatos,” features one of the most aching melodies of the 20th century played for maximum impact. Lloyd Price’s R&B classic “Lawdy Miss Clawdy” and the Memphis Jug Band’s “KC Moan” get lusty juke-joint treatments that take Gilmore’s high lonesome voice into new terrain with some of Alvin’s best guitar on record.

Both of these artists have a storied, special relationship with Alec Wightman’s Zeppelin productions. Alvin’s appearances at the Valleydale, especially, are always something special. If you’re in town, don’t miss this.

 

 

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Old and New Friends at the Bier Stube

 

 

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"Hey, Fred!" Uncategorized Writing Other Places

Bounteous Beauty This Week in Columbus

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Adam O’Farrill’s Stranger Days – photo courtesy of Wexner Center

I hope the handful of you reading this got the three-day weekend to rest up because there’s enough unmissable stuff this week to kill the weaker of constitution.

Starting off on Wednesday we see one of the early blendings of new Performing Arts Curator Lane Czaplinski and outgoing curator Chuck Helm. Helm booked, in collaboration with CCAD, NYC artist Neil Goldberg for his one-man show Inhibited Bites fresh off two performances around APAP. Czaplinski makes good on his commitment to connecting the Wex beyond its four walls by bringing the show to Franklinton’s Idea Foundry. There have been happy hours related to Wex events before, but this at Land Grant is one of very few we’ve had steps away from the show. I wrote a preview for Columbus Underground.

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Neil Goldberg’s Inhibited Bites – photo courtesy of the Wexner Center

Thursday, the Ogún Meji Duo kicks off a six-month residency at Art of Republic. One of our finest composers, Mark Lomax II, and my favorite saxophone player in town, Eddie Bayard, bring their fiery, flexible. Each of these residencies features a special guest and this week’s is very special: visual artist Bryan Christopher Moss. Friend and editor Andrew Patton previewed this for JazzColumbus.

Friday, one of our finest record labels, Heel Turn, celebrate their third anniversary with two showcases of our best rock and roll on the Old North High Street corridor. The appetizer at Dirty Dungarees features Bloody Show – never have better Stooges-style songs graced our town – with Mr. Clit and the Pink Cigarettes and the new Outer Spacist/Terrestrials offshoot Psychotropic. Facebook event. And the main event is headlined by my (and pretty much everybody else’s) favorite Columbus band right now, DANA, with Burning Itch from Knoxville, and Messrs and Raw Pony also from Columbus. Get there early, you don’t want to miss Raw Pony if you know what’s good for you. Facebook event.

Saturday, one of the finest young trumpet players from NYC, Adam O’Farrill brings his quartet Stranger Days to the Wex. I had the privilege of interviewing O’Farrill in advance of this show, and this is the kind of pure jazz that can move people who aren’t necessarily interested in jazz and leave those of us who already drank the Kool-Aid high for days. I previewed this show for JazzColumbus.

Later Saturday, Spacebar brings an unhinged rock extravaganza from near and far. I’ve barely been able to stop listening to London band Shame since they hit my radar before an NYC trip last year. Their first full-length Songs of Praise delivers on all the snotty, gleeful promise of their early singles with ingratiating post-punk grooves and snarled hooks that draw you in at the same time they’re pushing you away. Pittsburgh Sub Pop signees The Gotobeds have a slightly poppier shine to their stiletto sharpness but anyone who saw their Big Room show a year or two ago knows how hard they can rock. Local up-and-comers Kizzy Hall and Roof Dogs open, both of whom I’m looking forward to checking out again. Facebook event.