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Southwest
Regional Report
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Edited by Chris Gardner
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In
This Issue: Lifted
and Drifting Away Strangefolk By Chris Gardner - Strangefolk is entirely dismissible. You can throw it in the CD player/tape deck and listen to the entire album without ever noticing that it is on. People never ask what it is while it plays. No one says a word about it. Conversation rolls along at a steady pace. Thoughts slip from one to another seamlessly, and there seems to be an unnatural cohesion in the air. Then the music stops. Awareness slowly creeps across your friend’s faces as the mood it broken. They notice for the first time that their head is bobbing to the silence. You can almost see them strain as they try to remember what was playing. They struggle, wrinkle their brows, and finally submit, uttering a wondrous, “What was that?” The inevitable (well, it’s inevitable in Texas), “Who the hell is Strangefolk?” discussion ensues while you start the disc/tape over. Then…you’ve got them. Strangefolk is ivy creeping up a brick wall, growing on you slowly and smothering you before you notice it is there. At his most fluid, Jon Trafton (lead guitar) is never flashy. Reid Genauer may sing with his whole body from the toes up, but I have never heard him scream. Erik Glocker has the rhythm locked down on bass, and despite the intricacy of his lines he never overwhelms. Luke Smith’s steady and expressive kit work is the canvass on which the others paint, and he spreads it taut and wide. I had never been the “guest list guy” before (thanks Sam), so I was stifling my giddiness as we walked up to the Satellite, a low-roofed, low capacity venue with oil lights on every wall and an alarming ability to retain smoke. I had not seen them since April, and I came to confirm what I had heard they are improving exponentially. I have never provided a reliable estimate of crowd size, so I won’t try here. Suffice it to say that Houston is Houston, and there was an abundance of wiggle room and a dearth of wigglers. I grabbed our libations and staked our claim in the wiggle space, waiting for Strangefolk to dazzle Stacey y mis vatos. They did. Roads opened with the rise and fall of a drive through shallow hills as my friends began to realize that all my verbal descriptions fell hollow next to the strength of Reid’s voice and the band’s harmonies. The jam in the Cabin John that followed was the first sign that we might be in for something ridiculous. They slipped into a dream cycle that precisely conjured days spent staring wistfully through a screen window at the incessant rain. Jon is effortless and purposeful. He slips into pockets of beauty that most would overlook. He has an edgeless quality that few can manage without sounding soft. His lines are liquid, and they slip and slide, rise and fall like a buoy in the swells. This was some of his finest work of the night. Faces offered a better glimpse at the band’s vastly improved interplay. Reid laid textures under Jon’s accents, and Erik bounced under, beside and above him. They slip in and out of structured sections seamlessly, and the composed segments continually zig when I expect them to zag. Strange Ranger gave the rhythm section a chance to dominate, and Luke Smith rumbled with authority. The set ended with a spectacular Alaska that covered enough territory to live up to its name. Jon was finally searing, shooting scathing notes throughout the building that nearly stripped the chipped paint off the walls. Over the years, I have become accustomed to acts that take the stage, explode, and blow my mind, but it had been ages since a band was subtle enough to sneak behind me and blow my mind when I wasn’t looking. The second set lived up to the expectations the first set set. The crowd was more dense and loose, and there were fewer occupied seats. Rachel started things admirably and fell into an engulfing Weightless in Water. Songs We Sing allows Jon to cut loose and wander for a while, and he finds, if not gold, precious metal, and the section beyond in which every member melds and shapes for a while, opened up entirely new avenues for each of them. It is the ability to alter the theme, alter the alteration, and finally throw out the map without getting lost that the band has gained since last April, and its emergence hints at brilliant things to come. There comes a point in any great show where you lose yourself. You may close your eyes and forget there are people around you. You might misplace all of your friends who, with any luck, are having like experiences in another corner. You might entirely forget what song is being played mid-jam, allowing that beautiful moment of clarity and recognition when they slide back into it. You might light a cigarette when you have one lit, light the wrong end, or forget entirely that you quit and reach in you empty pocket for a pack. Whatever the manifestation, the music takes over and all other consciousness slips away for minutes, hours, or days as the case may be. It happened here tonight, and it lasted until dawn. I can reliably report that the Westerly closer was just what the Gardner ordered, and there was nary a hidden tooth in the groups of smiles that left the Satellite that night. The Strangefolk Crew did a great job of making it a special night. People swarmed the Merch. Table all night to get their grubby little mitts on the free five song 50+ minute live EP courtesy of their new label Mammoth Records. If that were not nice enough, the soundman rewound his DAT to tape a missed section for one of the tapers, who then graciously passed it on to Barney who went out of his way to get it into my computer as I type. Thanks Barney. That
Friday night, Strangefolk left me flabbergasted. The trick is, of
course, is that I did not even notice it for hours. Sneaky, sneaky,
sneaky cats are these, and the most brilliantly dismissible band
I know.
Govt. Mule, Deep Banana Blackout, and the Withdrawls by Sally Lynch and Satisfied Productions It Takes More Than A Hammer And Nails To Make A House A Home> Thorazine Shuffle, Mule> Who Do You Love?> Mule, Life Before Insanity, Kind Of A Bird> Wind Cries Mary tease> Kind Of A Bird, Lay Your Burden Down, Bad Little Doggie> How Many More Years --Encore--, Doctor Feelgood*, Born Under A Bad Sign** *w/Jennifer Durkin on vocals & Fuzz on guitar from Deep Banana Blackout, **w/Fuzz on guitar, and unknown guest on vocals (Deep Banana Blackout and locals the Withdrawals opened) Despite a confusing last minute change of venue and a late start, Govt. Mule fans soon discovered that the pre-Halloween show at the Historic El Rey Theatre in Albuquerque was well worth the chilly wait outside. Their eardrums would never be the same.... After a super short set by locals, the Withdrawals, Hartford, CT’s Deep Banana Blackout made their first NM appearance and soothed the demanding crowd with their liquid and soulful grooves. Jen Derkin, DBB’s lead vocalist mesmerized the place with the stickiest sweet soul voice since Janis Joplin. Accompanied by Fuzz the guitarist (whose side project “On the Corner” features some of the hottest players out there, including DJ Logic and Marc Ford!), they wooed the crowd with relentless rhythms and riffs. Rob(s) Somerville and Volo also tickled our ears and electrified our souls on the sax and trombone. Due to the many delays that night, DBB’s set was short but sweet as they proceeded to kick down five or six tunes including the catchy “Bump and Sway.” Can’t wait to welcome the Bananians back to the state for a full two set show! With the air still resonating with the groove of Deep Banana, it was Govt. Mule’s turn to bring it on. From the floorboards to the rafters in the balcony, the El Rey rumbled and shook from the powerful, soulful Southern vibrations that define Govt. Mule. Mule set the pace with the new and beautifully bluesy “It Takes More than a Hammer and Nails.” We were than thrust into an explosive “Thorazine Shuffle” which led into a much hoped for “Mule” sandwiching a nice “Who Do You Love.” Gotta love it when the mule train ploughs through blasting their thunder left and right! It was not nearly as intimate as the time the mule tore down the Dingo Bar a few years ago, but Warren and Co. quickly showed why people couldn’t stop talking about their last trip to the El Rey. They simply make the place explode! Allen Woody’s bass was vibrating everyone’s bones while Matt Abts super tight drumming kept the train rollin’ through a “Life Before Insanity” followed by a sweeeeet “Kind of Bird”, which contained a soothing “Wind Cries Mary” Jam that was just dying to explode into the full blown version before Warren eased it back into “Kind of Bird” to finish it off By this time, the incendiary sounds of the Mule had the whole place in flames. but the boys added more fuel to the fire with “Lay Your Burden Down” and a “Bad Little Doggie” sliding into a blistering “How Many More Years” to end the set. As if it weren’t already one of the most explosive shows to hit ABQ in weeks, G. Mule blew the roof off the El Rey, encoring with “Dr. Feel Good” with help from Jen Derkin and Fuzz of Deep Banana Blackout. Jen then turned her mic over to Matt Abts’ brother-in-law, who resides in Santa Fe and has a band called the Stone Ponies, joined the band to sing the final song, a downright evil, “Born Under a Bad Sign.” No doubt the crowd’s ear’s reverberated from Mule’s quake for days. Fans
needing a Mule fix will be glad to know that the band’s 4CD box
set “Live...With A Little Help From Our friends” was released a
few weeks ago. This highly recommended package includes the live
recording of Mule’s unbelievable New Year’s Eve 1998 show at the
Roxy Theater plus added studio out takes, a CD ROM with video coverage
of the show and a thirty two page colored booklet. Friends sitting
in with Mule for this legendary performance include: guitar virtuoso
Jimmy Herring (ARU, Jazz is Dead and God in some parts), the funkiest
keys on the planet, Bernie Worrell (Parliament/Funkadelic), guitar
styling of Marc Ford (Black Crowes), and the smokin’ hot slide guitar
antics of Derek Trucks. North
Mississippi Allstars By Eric Rothschild Around the stroke of midnight, brothers Luther and Cody Dickinson stepped on the small stage of South Austin's Continental Club. With a Fairy Godmother-like wave of a drumstick and lick on the guitar, they transformed the neon-lighted, dingy dive into a rollicking backwoods blues joint that shook with the spirits of bluesmen past. The Allstars kicked things off with Junior Kimbrough's 'All Night Long' -- a journey into the raunchy soul of North Mississippi blues that rocked and rolled like an old Ford on a gravel road. The path smoothed a bit as Luther threw down a textured, Allmanesque jam that brought blue skies into the smoky bar with a wink and nod from Duane up above. The band continued to drop raucous rhythms on the crowd -- Cody fervently pounded the drums and Richard Price pumped the bass as Luther worked magic from a number of different guitars. Searing slide work gave way to crunchy solos that bled through the amps and pulled the crowd onto the dance floor. The posters' for the show read "The World Boogie is Coming" and the North Mississippi Allstars were paving the way. Explosive drum solos shot off like 4th of July fireworks, then circled back into a country fried gospel, bluegrass or chain gang tune. They played another Fat Possum classic, R.L. Burnside's 'Georgia Women'. Things got a little nasty before they took off into a set closing 'All Night Long' reprise. In the encore, the N. MS Allstars continued to bridge the gap between jam music and blues as barrelhouse blues found their way into long-winded instrumentals. The night ended with a high-spirited 'Shake Your Money Maker', which had most in attendance doing exactly that. By
the end of the night I was worked over. Two hours of wrestling with
devil blues knocked me off the barstool and onto the floor. When
leaving I was comfortable in knowing that a band rich with talent
has taken up the torch in a style of blues that is almost extinct,
and spreading it amongst the masses. I’ve got to warn you though,
it'd be wise to keep a look out cause those boys can burn the barn
down.
98% Funky Stuff, Stickin’ to the Ceiling Maceo Parker
By Eric Rothschild If you've ever seen a Maceo Parker show you know how it starts and ends, with dramatic calls of "Maceooooo Parker..." and in between there's a whole lotta funk. His last evening in Austin started and ended no differently, and Lordy Lord was there a lot of funk in the middle. It was so thick that by three in the morning the man finally had to stop before the funk police came to lock us all down. About three songs into the show Maceo proclaimed, "From now on, everything's gonna be funky,” and funky it was. “Pass the Peas" was the first of many servings of down home soul food that appeased the crowd’s appetite. An anthology of funk followed with twists on billboard classics like "Jailhouse Rock" and "Mustang Sally". Each song exposed the long lineage of funk heroes like James Brown and George Clinton as the mother ship landed on top of Antone's. Other highlights included an instrumental version of Marvin Gaye's "Inner City Blues" which was followed by a hip-hop infused "Let's Get It On" that gave way to a tender "No Woman No Cry" into the Parliament Funkadelic's "Red Hot Mama". The four and a half funk filled hours were enough to leave anyone in need of rest. Only thing I could say afterwards was funk funk funk… |
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