The Big Surprise Tour: Justin Townes Earle, the Felice Brothers, Dave Rawlings and Gillian Welch, Old Crow Medicine Show @ Beacon Theatre w/ pics

August 6, 2009

The Big Surprise Tour rolled into the Beacon Theatre Wednesday leaving Upper West-siders wondering, “What’s the surprise?” Those going to the show were in on the know: Justin Townes Earle, The Felice Brothers, Dave Rawlings and Gillian Welch, and Old Crow Medicine Show rolled up into one big hootenanny was the “surprise.” Over the course of a three and a half hour revue, more collaborations between performers transpired than on a T.I. album and each grew rowdier than the next, feeding the crowd’s alacrity. Leading off the night the lean Justin Townes Earle was perfectly dapper and droll—his charmingly southern Prof. Harold Hill persona a direct contrast to his father’s “hardcore troubadour” image. His quick talking interludes (“Ladies and gentleman we’re gonna take a quick trip down south to Georgia next”) flowing seamlessly with his repertoire of rags were a perfect compliment for his disarming vocals. The Felice Brothers honed their brand of urban country-rock busking in the New York City subway but they performed like true Yankee bleacher creatures. Riling up the crowd with songs like “Run Chicken Run” and “Whiskey in My Whiskey”, their songs adhered to a hard-nosed insight, that’s only gained through country experience, while leaving ample room for rural romanticism. Oddly enough some members seemed to effuse hip-hop onstage: chains, flat-brimmed Yankee caps, hands pumping the rhythm, even bumping and grinding a washboard.

After recovering and refueling during intermission Dave Rawlings and Gillian Welch played. Despite Rawlings’ bodily contortions they sounded smooth and soothing, a combination of viscous harmonies and familiar standards. Though the crowd was hollering for them to turn it up (especially after “Monkey and the Engineer”), they kept it mellow with “Cortez the Killer” and “I Hear Them All / This Land Is Your Land.” Ready to let themselves go, the crowd embraced Old Crow Medicine Show’s punk ethos. “Alabama High-Test” and other numbers showed an affinity for hard-strumming, harder harmonies and a preference for pot. More or less the link between most of the assembled musicians, Old Crow lead an at times entangled set of group sing-alongs at the end. Ketch Secor and Rawlings sang lead on “We’re All in This Together” while Gillian Welch carried the load on “Look at Miss Ohio.” Perhaps the best group effort came on “Wagon Wheel”, Old Crow’s signature ballad. Though its placement was predictable, the subtle force and accompanying soul of 15 musicians playing it was a nice surprise.

Justin Townes Earle and band...






the Felice Brothers...














Dave Rawlings and Gillian Welch...





Old Crow Medicine Show...

M. Ward @ Apollo Theatre w/ pics

February 19, 2009


Bad news first; M. Ward seemed only marginally enthusiastic for his quick, first ever show at the esteemed Apollo Theatre and was beset with sound problems all night. The good news; Zooey Deschanel was nowhere to be seen. Thus, any She & Him songs would be less lionized, if M. Ward even felt the need to go there. Which he did, briefly, with “Never Had Nobody Like You”.

In general, M. Ward’s hazy country-infused vocals were equal parts sentimentality and robustness--rustling and gliding over a gently strummed chord (“Lulllabye & Exile”) or guttural and assertive (“Vincent O’Brien”). His band, when summoned, perfectly paralleled his dynamic shifts and expressive gestures, sounding heavy and hard or light and soft depending on the song. Each time their balance and touch was superb.

Tech problems showed up during Ward’s most delicate portion of the set (of course). During “Oh Lonesome Me” and the solo “One Hundred Million Years”, crackling cables plagued the bubbly flow of his guitar’s twang. Though he tried to overpower the obvious sound issues, even his forceful yet deft finger-picking blues could not defy the jolting crunches of misconnected mic cable.

Time, and audio problems, practically paused for “Post War”, as everything seemed to melt into the song’s gentle shuffle and Ward’s exposed baritone. We believed him when he sang, “I know when everything feels wrong”.

Maybe cause something was. Not that I could pinpoint its cause, but my +1 and I seemed to narrow it down to the incessant technical errors and an overly belligerent crowd—one that would not let Ward’s tranquil indie-folk rock be and kept demanding requests. Just let the man’s fragile muse work!

This made the set anxious and rushed, clocking in at just over an hour.

On the other hand, the pacing of his set didn’t of come as a shocker. An animated windowpane, projected onto the black backdrop behind the band, gradually progressed from dusk to starry night to dawn, an explicit indicator of where the night was going and when it would end. Conversely, it did give the impression of being included in some sort of late-night jam session with Ward.

Ward was at his best when loudest. The Daniel Johnston cover “To Go Home” (which included hollering Vivian Girls, the opener), “Big Boat”, and encore “Roll Over Beethoven”--during which he summoned his inner Little Richard to play some Chuck Berry--all had an air of indifference and movement that made them potently rock ‘n’ roll.

Ben Kweller and the Watson Twins @ Town Hall w/ pics

February 25, 2009


The Watson Twins and Ben Kweller. Both equal parts Nashville and hipster. Both singers and songwriters of heavy harmonies and simplified melodies. But only Kweller, however, came away from Town Hall Wednesday night with a commanding and energetic performance, aided towards the end by a dancing infant.

Starting off with poor sound didn’t help the Watson Twins. What sounded muddled with overwhelming bass drones in the balcony sounded more balanced in the orchestra. But the twins’ vocals got lost in the shuddering bass.

During “Only You”, keyboard played the high-pitched guitar strums that appear during each chorus. But it failed to emulate the electric guitar’s other quavering and haunting holds. Instead a nylon-string guitar was innocuously thrummed. This same guitar didn’t suffice for their popular “How Am I to Be”—during which they suggested shoulder dipping as a substitute for actually dancing; be careful what you wish for.

All this begs the question: where was the strikingly bright guitar that provides such a pivotal counterweight to the twins’ soaring harmonies?

They floated through the Bill Withers standard “Ain’t No Sunshine”, but as people they’re too sanguine to seem heartbroken or lonely. (Maybe because they always have each other around?) In general their vocals were soft and beautiful, but too light. They exuded no energy in their 45 minutes, leaving behind a pretty banal set.

In contrast, BK showed up to play his heart out. He prompted the light tech to turn up the houselights so he could size up his excitable crowd and then pursued a relentless setlist covering all the bases. Charging through old favorites like “Walk On Me” and “Falling” Kweller was urbane and sincere, his voice easily seizing the hall’s wide space.

Buttery smooth, his band (drums, bass, pedal-steel guitar) infused Kweller’s country roots into his indie lyricism and punk ethos to form a powerful and cohesive musical synthesis. Whenever BK added throwback vocables to a verse it pointed to a past era of pop.

While Kweller sampled material from his latest fare, Changing Horses, its lead track (“Gypsy Rose”) was surprisingly the best song of the night simply because of its delicate balance and Kweller’s sonorous tenor praising love as the saving grace.

His new song “Fight” was a stellar showcase of his band’s three-part chops and unleashed an unshakable melody during the encore.

I found the ending a little awkward, though, as everyone in the crowd decided to get up and dance for the last three minutes of the show. I couldn’t stop thinking, why didn’t they just get up and dance the entire show? Was the setting too intimidating? Too reserved? But what really stole the show was Kweller’s toddler son, Dorian, upstage, rocking out to his daddy’s big finale at the end.