I Took Two Pictures. This Is One.

Friday night, as part of the New York Guitar Festival, Nels Cline and Thurston Moore played as a duo at Rockwood Music Hall.  They called it “Pillow Wand”  maybe because it feels like being hit with a magical pillow.  These possibly the two most widely known Avante Garde leaning guitar players, who have crossed over into the mainstream world.  Cline as a part of Wilco, and Moore founding Sonic Youth.  Needless to say, lots of people were in that tiny room.

This was my first time at Stage Two of Rockwood Music Hall, a lovely addition.  It seems to be reserved for more well known acts, were as on Stage One, there’s always the chance that dude with a weird Jew Fro will go on right before your friend’s band and play the entire Plastic Ono Band album front to back.  Its a cozy space, the sound was great, and despite it being packed, it was not that hard to obtain a beverage.

Oh right, it was packed.  It was definitely over fire department capacity.  People would walk down the entrance stairs, see that there was nowhere to go, and literally just set up camp on the stairs.  That can’t be safe.

Now, before we get to the problem of people preserving their memories on compact flash cards, lets talk about the music.  They played a continuous set of sound….not really just noise, but not melodic compositions.  It was basically a fucking giant explosion.  Tons of effects pedals, lots of volume, several Jazzmasters.  They played like they meant it.  I would compare it to some type of experimental painting.  You see some weird shit thrown on a canvas and you think “I could totally do that.”  Well maybe in the case of some phony artist who just wants the image, you could.  But look at one of those giant Jackson Pollock canvases, and there is no way you could.  That’s what these guys were like.

Every sound seemed like they meant it.  There was no phoning it in.  It’s a wonder their guitars didn’t just fall in pieces to the floor.  They put these instruments through incredible abuse.  Cline plays the strings with a little kitchen whisk, Moore sticking a drumstick under the strings on the neck and thrashes back and forth.  They hit the tremelo so hard, it would be no surprise if the bridges just popped off. Yet somehow, they did not.  But that was the good part, lets get to the other thing.

There seems to be a rule with professional photographers.  They respect those around them.  And when they don’t, its brief.  A guy asks you if he can switch spots for a minute to get some shots, then moves along.  Its a mild inconvenience, but you live through it.  When I was about 11, we went to see Slash at the now defunct NY Club Tramps.  His manager came out beforehand and told all of the photographers, “YOU GET ONE SONG!  THEN YOU’RE OUT OF HERE!”  lo and behold, he came back out after that song, yelling “THAT’S IT!  GET ‘EM OUT!”  fucking professionals.

Somewhere between 1994 and now, things have changed.  I don’t dispute that the iPhone camera is awesome.  I love it.  I use it all the time.  It makes life better.  You can remember any moment, because you always have it with you.  And the pics look pretty good!  But think for a fucking minute.  How many pictures do you need?  Can’t you actually live in the moment and enjoy the amazing things happening in front of you?  You really need to look in a 3″ LCD monitor to experience what’s in front of you?  Fuck you.

The light from all the iPhones and cameras rivaled the stage lighting, which was minimal.  Its 2 dudes with guitars.  The lighting doesn’t change.  They aren’t even switching guitars.  How different is it going to be?  That’s not even the issue, I guess if you want to get all artistic, that’s fine.  But don’t do it in a tiny club.  The amount of dudes with fucking giant DSLR’s with huge telephoto lenses on them was just ridiculous.

We got pushed in front of several times, and the photographers just planted themselves.  Also, those cameras are kind of loud if its not a big rock and roll moment.  If the music gets quiet…..CLICK CLICK CLICK….really?  I’ve heard a bootleg of Neil Young at the Bottom Line, where he asks a photographer not to shoot during the songs, because people can hear it.  Jeff Tweedy would call out anyone with a camera and tell them to get rid of it on Wilco’s last tour.  Just last month at Carnegie Hall, Ryan Adams stopped the show and went on a hilarious rant….to paraphrase  “oh my god, you HAVE to have gotten that shot by now.  You need to keep taking them?  What is your camera from like 1975 and you need to change flashbulbs or something?  Want ME to take it for you?? Just put it away”  They have a point.

At one point, the asshole with the Hubble Telescope in front of me changed cards…because you need to fill up more than one giant flash card during a 45 minute set.  Then he was fucking reviewing and deleting photos!  Are you fucking kidding me? This place is the size of a shoebox and you’re standing in front of everyone just doing that?  And those people with the iPhones who just leave them held up the whole time!  Are your poorly lit out of focus shots going to be that great?!

OK, I need to calm down.  I’ve decided next time this happens, I’m going to get right in front of every lens I see, and just give the F.O.B Peace Sign.  Or yell “CLICK CLICK CLICK!” or just point my phone directly in front of their camera, turn the flash on, and just go for it.  We need to do something about this, kids.  Who’s with me?

I’ve written on these here pages about Jones and the Dap Kings before, so I won’t go into an extended description of what they’re about.  You probably know, and to quote the one and only Binky Grip-Tight of the Dap Kings  “If you don’t know, you got to ask somebody!”

They held their Daptone 10th Anniversary Shows over 4 nights, 2 at the Music Hall of Williamsburg, and 2 at the Bowery Ballroom.  First off, you have never seen that many people on the Bowery stage.  9 musicians in the band, 2 backup singers on a riser, and Jones out front.  Not exactly spacious.

The crowd at a Dap Kings show is unlike most indie bands crowds.  Decidedly less drunken obnoxious people, but the ones who are there, obviously gravitate right towards me.  Here’s a little tip.  If you’re a drunken white girl, it’s probably not the best idea to try to do those soul-vocal trill things from the crowd while Jones is in telling an emotional story about her mother being sick.  Ya know?  Just my opinion.

Something about the band seemed just slightly off last night.  Jones clearly was having monitor problems, kept asking for more reverb and saying she couldn’t hear.  While the dap kings stage presence is always stoic, it seemed a little more stoic than usual.  Having said that, (that’s a Larry David reference) Sharon Jones feeling a little off, is like most musicians on the best day of their lives, so we’ll give her a pass.

She still gives 100%, there is no doubting that.  The crowd at the Bowery responded to every move.  In one surprising moment, they brought out Eric Kalb to sit in on drums.  Kalb, an early childhood drumming hero, was part of Deep Banana Blackout, and was probably the first drummer I ever saw play in that ghost note shuffle style in person.  It permanently changed me as a musician.  I’ve heard he’s been playing with Charlie Hunter recently, as for the rest of Deep Banana, we don’t really know where they’ve gone…somewhere into the jam band ether.  We wish them the best.

Homer Steinweiss, the regular Dap Kings Drummer, (who also seems to have a Food Blog) apparently is a lefty,  something also discovered last night. The kit was set up semi backwards, playing the kick with his left foot, but still playing the hi hat with his right hand.  Whatever, he’s allowed to do what he wants.

My favorite Dap Kings show still remains the Starland Ballroom, in the Middle Of Nowhere, South Jersey, during a snow storm.  It’s always the unexpected ones that get you.  Yes, the Bowery was a great show, they played with precision most bands can only dream of.  But when the bar is set so incredibly high, you have to be held to that standard.  I’ll give them a pass this time, you’ve earned it Sharon Jones.

The week came to an end with Brian Blade, Bill Frisell, and Jenny Scheinman at The Village Vanguard.  Well, it was Thursday, but who’s counting.  The Vanguard is a NY institution, that looks nearly exactly as it did in its heyday.  Every legend of jazz has played there, and the more spiritual among us like to imagine that there is a little spirit of those left behind.

It was a fitting week to visit, as Paul Motian had just passed away, the Vanguard was his home for the last few years, and Frisell was a member of his long running trio with Joe Lovano (who else would have the balls to have a trio with sax, drums, and guitar??)

One of my favorite shows of all time was the Brian Blade Fellowship at this venue a few years back.  I couldn’t see a thing (which happens if you sit anywhere except the very front) but it made no difference.  Everyone in the venue was straining their necks to see what Blade was up to behind the vast array of musicians on that tiny stage.  This evening was a little easier, there were only 2 other up there.

The set was less experimental than you would imagine.  Frisell had his pedal board, some looping devices, probably a magic pedal that allows him to play a Statocaster at the Village Vanguard and not look ridiculous doing so…and probably not a Boss Metal Zone.  Scheinman was leading the band, playing most of the melody, but in truth, you can’t have Brian Blade on a stage and expect him not to be the focus.

It’s not even through showmanship or excessive display of chops.  Blade could probably play just a ride cymbal with a broomstick and most of us would have been captivated.  The man has something most do not.  It goes beyond time.  Its not speed, or some Dave Weckl-esque shit, he’s just operating on a level different from the rest of us.  I commented to my friend that this is what Elvin Jones must have sounded like at the Vanguard.  You can see everything he’s doing – he’s using the same tools available to anyone else.  But he’s just extracting something different from them.  He’s from New Orleans, let’s call it Voodoo.

This week it will continue, at a much more relaxed pace, with Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings, also Peter Lugers steak, and while that is not music, it is certainly worth noting.

I consider myself a man of science.  Not an active practitioner of science, but certainly an enthusiast.  (this basically means when Planet Earth or NOVA is on, you know where I’ll be.)  But some things defy common knowledge.  I was thinking of my old friend Eric yesterday, a bass player in a former band, and all around unique character.  We hadn’t spoken in nearly 2 years, he’s not on Facebook, I figured he dropped off the map.

That evening, I’m walking home from purchasing a synth in the most sketchy craigslist transaction of all time (and thats saying a lot) it’s pouring rain, and my phone rings.  Its Eric.  How do these things happen?  These weird little experiences happen to all of us, lets get someone to fund some research on this shit.  Anyway, he asks “Want to see Ryan Adams tonight? I have a free extra”  To that there is only one response  “Is he performing as his Rap and/or Metal alterego?”  If the answer to that question is “No” then the followup response is “Yes, of course”

This is the only pic from the night you get, I'm not loading up the post with shit like this

I tried to get tickets to this event initially, it sold out very quickly, and was very expensive.  Its strange how things like that work out sometimes.  I have had 3 live experiences with Ryan Adams in my life.  First, he played a Bob Dylan tribute at Lincoln Center, and lit the venue ablaze with a cover of “Isis.”  Next, I met him in a Deli, told him I enjoyed the “Isis” cover, to which he was very nice and responsive.  Finally, I saw The Cardinals at Town Hall.  Adams came out in giant leather moon boots, with a little ponytail on top of his head, and played a very long set of what sounded like Grateful Dead covers, lots of solos…we had to take a break.

This tour seemed a little different, Adams was performing solo acoustic, he had taken time off from music for the last year, he had cleaned himself up, it’s worth a shot.  I haven’t heard much of his new album, a friend commented “it almost seems too easy for him, like he just wakes up and writes 45 fairly decent songs”  You definitely get that vibe.  None of his songs are hideous, but only a few are truly great.  I won’t go into a full on “Heartbreaker vs the 297 albums that came after” analysis, but you know what I’m getting at.

Adams came out, picked up his red white and blue guitar, and went into “Oh My Sweet Carolina”  Things were pretty much all good from there out.  While I was up in the nosebleeds, Carnegie hall is a beautiful sounding venue, made for music like this.  You could hear every quiet note, the natural sound of the room enhancing everything.

The show was not without its signature Ryan Adams banter, calling out various photographers “thanks for bringing your camera from 1981, do you have to change the flashbulb after each shot?” Commenting on the snakes in the balcony (one dude kept shushing everyone who clapped at parts of a song) and creating several on the spot songs – One woman yelled “That was beautiful!” he responded “did you say Howard Is Beautiful?”  a full song about Howard being beautiful followed.  Apparently Howard gets all the Apple products first, and controls inter-dimensional force fields.

The highlight of the show was unexpected.  We heard all the hits, “Winding Wheel”  “Come Pick Me Up” all that, but I was blown away by “New York, New York”  Played on piano rather than guitar, and slowed down a whole bunch, it just got to the heart of the song.  It bypassed the sax solo and conga parts that made it the pop song it was, and stood up completely on its own.  You got the feeling that when Adams is at the top of his songwriting game, he taps into some magical shit.  How many others could hold the attention of a venue like that completely on their own?  It’s almost as if you could see these mythical women he writes about, a cartoon version of all his famous exes combined, 14 feet talk, swinging one of those spikey ball chains from fantasy thriller movies.

We did get a cover of RATT’s “Round and Round” and a closing number thanking everyone, including C&C Music Factory, a running joke throughout the evening.  So until he puts out 16 albums in a row about space travel, or decides to write a series of novels about a sea captain trapped in a worm hole with Tom Brokaw, I’m confident in saying, he can still perform a serious show.

How many songwriters have written the elusive perfect album? In The Aeroplane Over The Sea is one of those. It sounds like it could have been a psychedelic concept album in the late 60’s. A mix of “We’re Only In It For The Money” and something by an alternate universe Neil Young. I’ll admit I came very late to the party, only learning about Neutral Milk Hotel a few years ago, but that makes it no less powerful. (Maybe it makes it MORE powerful, ever think of that? Eh?? DID YOU?! Ok, on we go.)

It was announced about 8 months ago that Mangum would do a series of solo acoustic shows, including one at the greatest venue on earth, the Loews Landmark Theater in Journal Square, Jersey City. This blog may be filled with sarcasm, but that statement is 100% sincere. I lived in Journal Square, the cultural center of the known universe, for several years. We had the chance to see Beck, The Magnetic Fields, The Decemberists, and a ton of classic movies at the Loews, and it never disappointed. If Dracula suddenly appeared in one of the dark imposingly giant boxes beside the stage, no one would be surprised.

Seeing iconic figures after years of absence is always a tricky proposition. Someone who’s songs meant so much to so many, has a lot to live up to. What if he just plain doesn’t have it anymore? There are a lot of long notes in those songs…What if it’s just a money grab and he doesn’t really care? (solo acoustic….you’ve got NO overhead man, rake in the dollars!) Then it gets you thinking about why Mangum backed out of the spotlight in the first place.

It has often been said, that had Vampire Weekend died in a fiery plane crash directly after their first album, they would be remembered as legends. Forget how much you hate them, and imagine if it were not overplayed and there were no backlash. Maybe Mangum realized this, and took a step back. Maybe he figured “Well, there’s 11 perfect songs, many people work their whole lives for much less, I’m goin’ on break.” Who knows, this is not Being John Malkovich, although we were fairly close to the NJ Turnpike.

After a leisurely stroll around the Loews (seriously, the bathroom lounge must have been THE place to hang during the 1930’s) the lobby lights flickered like an opera performance, and it was time to go. Mangum appeared with several acoustic guitars and launched right into it.

His voice seems nearly unchanged.  Yes, there were some almost flubs…but those crazy high sustained notes were all there.  The man has breath control like a fucking dolphin.   All the hits were played, and the crowd was very respectful, at least from where we were sitting.  Yes, it was beautiful, but at times I wished there were a little more sound.  At one point, he brought on some Flugelhorn and Clarinet, and it was fantastic.  If they had played the classic horn lines with him the entire show, I would have been an emotional wreck, collapsed on the ground bawling like an infant.  Imagine the water damage?  There were a LOT of sensitive people in that theater.  Maybe it was a safety issue.

Seeing a songwriter perform solo, often gets you right into the heart of a song.  For some reason, I think Mangum’s songs are pretty wide open to begin with.  Even with all the beautiful noisy arrangements on Aeroplane, the song always comes through, its as if Mangum was the Sinatra in front of the Basie Orchestra of whimsical noises.  So maybe this was just showcasing what we all knew already.  Not to say it wasn’t a great performance, it certainly was, it’s just hard to fill an entire theater with a tiny guitar  (his voice certainly did the job, we’re talking instrumentally here.)

So who knows what will happen.  His last release of new music was many years ago.  What has he been doing since?  If he was sitting in his living room playing “Two Headed Boy” over and over again…no one would blame him, but we’d like to think something new could be on the horizon.  He played a set at  Occupy Wall Street, so there must be some motivation there?  I refuse to speculate.  Let’s just let Jeff be Jeff.  He has a heavy legacy to deal with, he can do whatever he fucking wants, ok?

You know what sucks?  Don’t Stop Believin by Journey is a fantastic song.  It’s a beautifully crafted pop tune that will undoubtedly stand the test of time.  It would be a flawless piece of music played on an acoustic guitar, or sung by a barber shop quartet.  Nothing can stop it.   Not even every douchey frat guy or wannabe real housewife that sings it at the top of their lungs in a Murray Hill Kareoke Bar.  Well, maybe them, but even so, every time I hear it, it just gets to me.  No real point to that, other than to listen to the actual song.   Moving on.

While celebrating America this weekend up in Massachusetts,  I attended a James Taylor show.  This may not be my typical musical event…but I did enjoy it quite a bit.  Lately I’ve come to respect Taylor as an all around badass.  The main turning point, was when he posted free guitar lessons on his website.  What other legendary songwriter/players do such a thing?  Kudos to you JT, kudos to you.

They call this type of music “Easy Listening” and it is just that.  The melodies are  pleasant, the tempos are just in the right place to bob your head a little bit, the show is not too long, there is nothing at all offensive about this type of music.  While I will not analyze James Taylor’s songwriting style, I will talk about the musicianship of those performing with him.

When you’re at that level, you probably don’t have a lot of time to waste with less than stellar musicians.  I once saw a workshop with drummer Greg Bissonette, who played with Taylor.  He basically said, they go to his house in the Berkshires for a few days, have a BBQ and rehearse, and that’s it for the tour.  It’s the old “I cheat, I just use great musicians” thing. There were no extraneous notes, no rushing or lagging, everything was dead on.   There were about 14 people on the stage, 5 backup singers, horn section, extra percussion…but no toes were stepped on.

On drums was Chad Wackerman, best known for his work with Frank Zappa.  Zappa is the musical equivalent of having unquestionable street cred.   Its like playing for The Yankees early 2000’s while winning the superbowl, and having 14 gold medals in various sports.  Are those terms accurate?  I was kind of winging it.  Yes, that was the only sports reference you will ever see on this blog.  Deal with it.  Here is Wackerman and another Zappa Alum:

Not the first person you’d imagine playing with James Taylor…but he can hold his own in any musical situation I’d imagine.  He’s not shredding 128th notes over “You’ve Got A Friend” or something.

On guitar was Michael Landau, who I had never heard of, but who’s Wikipedia page claims played with Miles Davis, Pink Floyd, and all sorts of others.  The guy could play some hella tasteful solos, and even shred a few 12895th notes without looking like a dick.  Serious players all around.

There was one moment when Vince Gil and Amy Grant came out….well, not really a moment, more like 30 unnecessary minutes.  They played some cheesy pop-country, and some 90’s hits, it really had no place happening.  Maybe old JT was just feeling tired and wanted a break?  Who knows, I’ll forgive him

One notable thing about the venue – Tanglewood up in MA, is absolutely beautiful. They encourage picnicking, and even allow alcohol!  What a concept!  No one gets out of control intoxicated, everyone has a lovely little area set up, some with candles and tables and whatnot, I felt so civilized!  Maybe its owed more to the artist than the particular crowd…I mean, If it were a Dave Matthews Band show or something, you know there would be a few kids in white hats shotgunning beers to Don’t Stop Believin’, ya know?

I believe there was once a famous showtune written in the golden age of song, in which the chorus was “Don’t Believe The Hype”  which is a brilliant statement.  These days when the hype often overshadows the event itself, we must all be weary.

Last week, it was announced Nels Cline and Marc Ribot would play as a duo at Le Poisson Rouge in the West Village.  Thats like Picasso and Da Vinci getting together to do a little fingerpainting.  That’s like Steve Jobs and Eric Tarn getting together to build and internet.  The comparisons could go on and on.  Its no secret that I hold both of these musicians in high regard.  If you added Smokey Hormel to the mix, you would have the 3 greatest living guitar players.  So its no secret that I was quite excited to attend.

By complete coincidence, whilst strolling through the west village last weekend, Nels Cline appeared in front of me.  Caught off guard, i just said “Hey Nels!”  I guess when you see someone fairly often, they feel so familiar that a greeting is necessary.  Being the lovely fellow he is, he stopped and chatted with us for a bit, saying he had no idea what he and Ribot would play, which felt like a recipe for some fantastic guitar dueling.

When seeing either of these players on their own, you expect some fireworks.  And it inevitably happens.  Ribot could be playing a solo acoustic performance, but you know there will be that moment where he launches into orbit.  With Nels, its just his thing, he can’t help but be a highly evolved space alien, who carries a brain evaporating space gun with him at all times.

The set started out very mellow, Nels on a Dobro, Ribot on an old Gibson acoustic.  The first few songs were spent feeling out some territory.  Very melodic, slightly haunting.  No shredding solos. Further into the set, Nels moved to lap steel, ribot played what sounded like a baritone electric, and things got crazy.

In this setting, with no additional instruments, no rehearsal, you can really see the true character of each musician.  Yes, they played a lot of notes, but no toes were stepped on.  It was not just shred for the sake of shred.  It was a conversation, all very tasteful.  Sure, the conversation was about things mere mortals such as us will never be capable of understanding, but a tasteful conversation nonetheless.  The lap steel portion bordered on country, spooky and western sounding.

The evening’s explosion came, as expected, when each musician moved to their most familiar instrument.  Nels to a Jazzmaster, and Ribot to what I think was an ES-125.  Their voice was immediately recognizable.  Ribot with the clangy edge to all his notes, and nels with a pure and focused tone, even when covered in all sorts of distortion.

In the end, it wasn’t a pissing match of epic proportion, or a chops display.  Really, none of us should have expected something like that from musicians of this caliber.  Lets hope somehow this was recorded, or leads to more collaborations like it.  On the other hand, the selfish elitist in me hopes this was a one off, so in 30 years, I can look back and say “yep, I was totally there, young child who now plays all music on a futuristic tablet like device, people used to play wooden boxes with strings on them!”

Campilongo plays every Monday night at The Living Room on the Lower East Side.  There is no doubt that he is a straight up virtuoso, unrivaled by about 96.5% of guitar players on earth.  I took a lesson with him once, and he certainly knows his stuff, and is a flawless player.  Having said that, he just isn’t my thing.  I cant explain it, but it just doesn’t connect with me, lots of notes and bending.  Nels Cline on the other hand, well, we know how I feel about Nels.

Nels In The Greatest Suit Ever

This show was clearly the place to be on this particular monday, many notable NY musicians were in the crowd, it was standing room only, the one waitress could not nearly get to everyone.  In recent years, as my twenties have passed the halfway point, I find myself getting less and less excited over my childhood guitar heroes.  I don’t know what it is, maybe its just harder to be enthusiastic as we get older.  In my early days I would go to a show hours early to get right up front and do the guitar dude thing…ya know, checkin’ out the pedals…but these days, I feel more comfortable in whichever seat has a good view and is not surrounded by loud people.  That all kind of went out the window when Nels walked in, I felt like a kid hanging around his favorite pro athlete or something.

Anyhoo, the Campilongo trio went on, and um, as their name indicates, they played for a loonnnnng time (sorry, had to do it) before Nels came on.  The first few songs were entertaining, full of virtuosity, clearly a tight band.  But after a while, the crowd thinned out a bit…I saw one dad and his kid leave around 11:30, the kid looking clearly disappointed he did not get to see Nels play.  I mean, its a monday man, come on.

Eventually, preceded by a long disclaimer about how they were ill rehearsed…Nels came to the stage.  Some ridiculous hippy looking kids in the front row just completely lost their shit. Screaming, headbanging, fist pumping, just going nuts.  In this one instance, I’ll forgive them, because this shit was just crazy.  Well, the first song The Beatles’ “Yer Blues”  was a little sloppy, but really, who cares.  Its supposed to be sloppy.  Next, a cinematic sounding western instrumental standard I do not know the name of, featuring a tasteful solo by Camilongo, followed by a short one by Cline…and they closed with Third Stone From The Sun by Jimi Hendrix (not to be confused with 3rd rock from the sun, the John Lithgow comedy classic)

That’s pretty much where it all exploded.  Nels was just hanging in the crowd looking antsy before he came up, and he seemed to let it all out on this tune.  They did a short noise improv intro, in which he picked up some type of mini megaphone and would scream into the guitar pickups, sending feedback throughout the tiny club.  The bass and drums segued into the classic Hendrix rhythm section riff, and they took off from there.  Campilongo just got out of the way musically, and Nels took over.  I’m fairly sure he began to levitate, as his guitar shot out flames of psychedelic fire, covered in diamonds, towing a trailer full of centaurs each playing their own flying V made of solid gold.  Yes, that’s exactly what it was like.

All completely accurate descriptions aside…It really did feel like watching a player with no equal.  Sure, anyone could play the same notes (well, not anyone)  But you instantly know it was Nels style.  I imagine this is what it was like to watch someone like Hendrix play.  He inflicted such emotion into everything he did, If he had spontaneously combusted on that stage, I would have completely understood, left, got a crepe, and gone home.

In this day of whatever the fuck passes for popular music, its very reassuring to know that there are still masters of their craft alive and well.  Nels may be in his fifties (although he looks about 35) but no one is playing stuff like that, past or present.  He had some weird cheapo Danelectro type guitar, played through a few pedals into whatever the house guitar amp was, so it’s clearly not any specific gear that makes his sound, he could have picked up an ESP Screaming Skull through a Mesa Triple Rectifier, and would still have sounded like himself.  The question that comes up these days, is why did it take until he joined Wilco in 2004 for the world to discover him?  Not that I was at all ahead of the curve, The first time I heard his name was about his 8th show with the band at Irving Plaza.  But if it took Jeff Tweedy to bring the world a guitar hero, I’m fully ok with that.  What I want to know, is when will they release his signature video game?

The Wellmont is Bowery Presents newest venue, in the unlikely location of Montclair NJ.  Home to Montclair State University, former home of the Bloomfield ave Cafe, and rumored home of Stephen Colbert.  That really all I can say about this town, lets keep moving.  My previous experience at this venue was to see Ray Lamontagne, a flawless musical performance, yet a mess of a crowd.  Lots of Frat Dudes yelling out songs, general rudeness.  But the sound….yeah, the room was built for that type of music.  It looks like the Beacon Theater, but doesn’t sound all boomy and terrible.   Wilco though in recent years has been primarily a blaring electric monster truck of fury, sometimes including an acoustic guitar, but not so much centered around it.  So I was interested to see what would happen in this room.

They removed the seats from the orchestra, so it felt like a more traditional rock show, and Wilco pretty much had 6 bands worth of gear on the stage.  It was mildly hilarious.  2 full keyboard rigs, probably 30 guitars on the wings of the stage, tons of amps, tables full of effects pedals, dream-theater-esque acrylic drum kit complete with a full orchestral gong, there was not much joking around.  This tour it was announced there would be no opener, and was billed as “an evening with”  so I guess they pulled out all the stops.

check out the SG Jr/Special/whatever it is!

The show began with the microsoft computer voice giving instructions not to take photos, but to please exhibit general merriment.  I really do wonder what this was about.  Further in the show, Jeff Tweedy even called out some guy for taking pictures…I can understand sans flash, but they were completely anti-photography.  Im guessing he’s feeling self conscious in his old age.  Anyhoo, the computer voice made a reappearance, announcing each band member during the breakdown of “Wilco The Song”  which confused and delighted pretty much everyone.

I took this off flickr, I didnt take it, relax Tweedy.

The set chugged along with the standard electric Wilco classics, lots of Sky Blue Sky, at one point Tweedy also called out someone for requesting “Impossible Germany” when giving out a free dinner…yeah, i don’t know, they gave out 2 free dinners.  Anyway, he was all “way to waste a request dude, like we weren’t gonna play that one?”  So it was standard electric fare.  Midway through though, during a particularly noisy outro to “poor Places”  The crew came out with an entire 2nd set of instruments, mini drum kit, 2 more keyboards, upright bass, new acoustic guitars, complete with old school living room style lamps, and set up as the band faded down.  Without so much as a breath, they went into the most mentally refreshing version of “Spiders” I have ever heard.  Occasionally when done electric, it gets a bit stale, with 14 minutes of noise rock jamming, it gets to be a little much.  They changed some of the chords, toned it waaaaay down, and let the song itself come out.  Several Bro Dudes behind me commented how it was a waste of a song…whatever, go see nickleback.  Spiders was followed by “More Like The Moon”  a buried gem from the Yankee Hotel Foxtrot outtake sessions which was never released.  Let me just say, as fanatic as I am, there are a few songs I have never heard performed, and this was one.  I think the whole crowd was in the same boat, you could hear a pin drop.  I dont even know what to say, it was fucking beautiful.  Lets just move on, Im getting too emotional.  You just couldn’t stop this acoustic set.  “Forget The Flowers”, followed by “Someday Some Morning Sometime” followed by a kick ass “Laminated Cat” as true to the original as possible, complete with the modular synth making some buzz type sounds.  They closed it out with “Airline to Heaven”  in the same fashion…the song started, the crew pulled off all the gear, and the band went into full on electric mode. Impressive.

There was no stopping this set, it just went on forever!  I mean, I truly enjoyed every minute of it, but the friends I went with did not enjoy it so much.  If you aren’t familiar with a band, you dont want to be repeatedly smacked in the face by them for 3 hours.  1 hour, sure, but 3 can get excessive.  They took no set break either.  What was that Phish?  Yeah, thats what I thought.  A friend also commented that Tweedy didn’t even take a sip of water the entire show, and I think this is true.  He had some type of big denim jacket on, he just fucking blasted through every song.  I’ve been trying to figure out the psychology behind this.  They have fanatical fans who love everything they do, so it’s not like they have anything to prove, they’re a very widely respected independent band.  All I can think of, is that they really just want to play a ton of music.  If you were at their stage of career, wouldn’t you too?  I mean, in an ideal world, where you’re not jaded by the industry or whatever, its just about playing every night, and I have endless respect for that.  Its like in that documentary from last year “It Might Get Loud”  with Jimmy Page and The Edge.  Even at their age and level of success, particularly with Page, you could just see that he loved every minute of playing, like a kid.  Is Wilco Led Zeppelin?  Yes.  Really?  Sure, why not?  Just deal with it already, ok?  This is my blog, you’re going to have to go along with whatever shenanigans I pull here, its in the user agreement.

Several years and shows later, he has rarely disappointed. I don’t know why more artists dont take this approach – solo electric guitar. You see a guy on stage with an acoustic, and you pretty much imagine what you’re going to get, with rare exceptions. But seeing a guy plugged in with no band, it really keeps you guessing. I’ve seen Ted Leo do this, and he does in fact deliver, but no one else comes to mind. One consistent thing Sondre has going for him is his use of weird Brazilian/Jazz chords all over the place. You rarely hear some simple standard voiced open chord, he’s throwing in major 7ths, augmented 9ths, triumphant 14ths, and so forth. I heard somewhere that he started out listening to Jobim, and that would explain everything. I’ve often wished there were an album of jobim standards played on solo jazz guitar by some master, if Wes Montgomery were still alive, maybe Jim Hall back in the day, hell, I would trust Marc Ribot to do it. That album would win an Oscar. I dont care if there’s no visual accompaniment, it would work. But we’ve gotten off track.

notice the wine barrells as the backdrop

Last week, the show was at City Winery, a relatively new venue downtown, with all good intentions. The space is very cool, good stage and sound, and they actually make wine, so there’s all sorts of barrells and whatnot lying about. Their one downfall is that they seem to want to run it like a restaurant, while everyone is in attendance to see a show. They reserve your seats at big long tables, where its easy to get confused or miscalculate. I was at their first sold out show last year – Medeski Martin & Wood, and it was a straight up clusterfuck. No one knew what was going on, and it took foreverrrrr to get seated. On this particualr evening, there was a seating mishap, which they rectified by giving us some delicious wine, so pretty much, im ok with it. City Winery, we’re still friends.

Sondre appeared on stage in his usual fashion, I would say like a lightning bolt, but he’s a tiny dude, so let’s say more like a static shock that really catches you by surprise. He wasted no time, and came out swinging. He played some new hits, opening with Good Luck off the album of the same title, and Heartbeat Radio, one of his finer recent songs. Before the release of the Good Luck album, he had an EP, called the Polaroid Pumpkin Party EP, only sold at shows, which included a few songs off the Good Luck album, done solo acoustic. I preferred these to the produced versions, so its always nice to hear them performed live in this fashion.

Some rousing versions of Sleep On Needles and Dead Passengers, spiced up with some delay and distortion had everyone feeling good. He pulled out a Big Star cover in tribute to Alex Chilton, and even Im A Boy by The Who. My favorite cover of all time, though, was absent. On the Dan In Real Life soundtrack, he does a kick ass jazz version of Elvis Costello’s Human Hands, which I believe even surpasses the original. Want as I may, I will never…ever…be the dude who calls out a request. Its just not my thing, and this point was only hammered in by the table behind us. A group of maybe 10, well dressed peolpe on appearance, but as soon as the wine began to flow, they became “Bro Dudes” immediately, and there was no turning back. The line was so crossed by one request. During a quiet moment, Broseph yelled out “Yo! Play Tragic Mirror Bro!” Yeah. He called the Norwegian on stage bro. And did it while requesting a song called “Tragic Mirror”. I don’t even know where to go with this. Its not like he was gonna play “Ants Marching” Lets imagine this is some other contexts. “Don’t Think Twice, Its Alright Bro!” “My Heart Will Go On, Bro!” “Candle In The Wind, Bro!” “Times They Are A Changin, Bro!” I think this would apply to every Dylan song though. Lets not get too deep, or I might burst into tears.

My one request, non show oriented For Son Lerch (like Ton Loc) is for the next record. OK bro, here’s what we gotta do. Go into the studio, bring the big ass Gretsch Hollowbody, get a really great sounding amp, at some big studio with a really old school reverb chamber and maybe a tape delay. Hell, go to Abbey Road. Plug in, roll tape, and play 13 songs, no overdubs, no band, just go for it. Have you ever heard Elvis’ recording of Blue Moon? It will be like that. Throw any Jobim tune on there, and that shit might even win an oscar. Listen to me Sondre, I have your best interest in mind here.

Also, just for the hell of it, here is the smallest recording setup in history.  Cigarette amp, trash found delay pedal, Sennheiser e609, tuner.