DO THE ARCHITECTURAL WATUSI – Page 27

A BRIAN CAPPS DOUBLE-HEADER

BRIAN CAPPS AND THE PRISON KEYS/THE DOMINO KINGS

(June 27, 2014; LUTTRELL’S AUCTION BARN/PATTON ALLEY PUB, Springfield, MO)

Brian Capps (photo credit: JEREMY CHARLES)

Springfield, Missouri, is probably not the kind of town that most folks not in the know would consider a significant music center. However, in the past decade or so, the city has evolved, grown and given rise to an astonishing number of gifted musicians; you can’t throw a stone in the town without hitting some talented player. Locals tend to take their own talent for granted, and the major musicians in the city are modest and self-deprecating to a fault. Nonetheless, you can go hear some fantastic music in Springfield almost any night of the week, and any music connoisseur NOT from the town might be surprised by the number of amazing talents who reside there.

Brian Capps and the Prison Keys (Donnie Thompson, Bobbie Lloyd Hicks, Brian Capps, John Wynn) (photo credit: TINA CARL)

This is only one reason I head for Springfield at least a few times a year, and there is ALWAYS some concert of interest; I miss way more than I ever catch. One of my very favorite local acts is Brian Capps, a Lebanon (less than an hour to the northeast of Springfield) native who nonetheless is a regular on the Springfield circuit and plays with several different groups of musicians in town, as well as being a touring member of Branson On the Road throughout the US. The chance to see Capps play in two different configurations in one night (something a lot of dedicated local musicians seem to do down there) was too good to pass up, and so I headed down I-44 bent on losing myself in some awesome, rootsy tunefulness during a rather stressful time. Talk about the healing power of music! Up first was Brian Capps and the Prison Keys, who on the surface appear to perform traditional country music and vintage rock and roll for a predominantly older crowd (certainly the case here at Luttrell’s Auction Barn). The odd little structure, on the west side of Springfield, is literally an auction house AND music venue, where bluegrass and old-timey country artists play semi-regularly to small but enthusiastic crowds.

Brian Capps and the Prison Keys (Brian Capps) (photo credit: TINA CARL)

The Prison Keys are a quintet but were missing one member this particular night. No matter; any long-time follower of music hatched in Missouri would naturally be thrilled by the fact that two members of this assemblage were also founding members of one of the most memorable acts ever to emerge from the Ozarks – the Skeletons. Donnie Thompson is one of the finest guitarists anywhere around, and can damn near play ANYTHING, which in the Skeletons and another of his past outfits, the Morells, he sure DID. And drummer/vocalist Bobbie Lloyd Hicks is simply a brilliant, staggeringly versatile musician who has toured and played with the likes of Dave Alvin, NRBQ, Jonathan Richman, Robbie Fulks and many others too numerous to mention. Hicks adds layered quirkiness to any band he plays with, and that made a significant difference here. Fiddler John Wynn was also a vital part of the blend. Capps fronted this amiable outfit with his huge, gorgeous blue upright bass and dollops of easy humor. A fantastic singer and charismatic front man, Capps is one of the few musicians I’ve ever seen who is able to effortlessly charm listeners of all ages. Fans were treated to pleasing if sometimes low-key versions of Johnny Cash tunes (“Southwind” and “I Guess Things Happen That Way” – it’s worth stating that Capps does a stellar, respectful take on Cash that is never mere imitation but always engaging and familiar), the Marty Robbins’ classic “A White Sport Coat (and a Pink Carnation)”, Chuck Berry’s “You Can’t Catch Me,” Ernest Tubb’s “Waltz Across Texas” (shouted by request, which often happens at these shows and is always gamely agreed to by Capps and company), and Porter Wagoner’s “Woman Hungry,” which Capps humorously decried the somewhat misogynistic lyrics of.

Hicks stole the show several times by spearheading the catchy George Jones classic “Who Shot Sam,” inexplicably singing most of the Chuck Berry classic, “Memphis,” in a mocking early Dylan style (the humor of which may have escaped some of this crowd), launching into the Ventures’ “Wipe Out” with his own unique laugh, and doing a delightful version of “Honey Don’t,” the Carl Perkins tune most people became familiar with when Ringo sang it with the Beatles. As for Capps, who was always gracious and attentive to his audience, each of his turns at the mic brought a new aural pleasure: a hearty version of Don Gibson’s “Sea of Heartbreak,” the Elvis tune “You’re the Devil in Disguise,” his own original “Walk Through Walls,” and the irresistable Gene Vincent classic “Lotta Lovin’,” which in any venue but Luttrell’s likely would’ve packed the dance floor. Guitarist Thompson tended to underplay for this crowd, but had plenty of shining moments nonetheless, notably on several instrumentals and on anything where Hicks’ unique energy cajoled him into something more offbeat. It was all thoroughly entertaining, and the sound was good and volume-balanced. I shouldn’t fail to mention Wynn’s excellent fiddle work either, and a high-energy take on “Orange Blossom Special” was one of his showcase moments.

The Domino Kings (Steve Newman, Brian Capps, Les Gallier) (photo credit: TINA CARL)

Most groups would’ve been exhausted after serving up two hours of the trad (quirked up a bit for those of us paying close attention), but in less than an hour, Capps was off to join his other regular outfit, the Domino Kings, at downtown’s Patton Alley Pub. The Kings have been around for 15 plus years, with a few different lineups, but this was the original trio and best incarnation of the band: Capps on upright bass, Steve Newman on guitar and Les Gallier on drums. All three men sing and write songs, and they are absolutely, unquivocally superb musicians. The mild conservatism of the Luttrell’s show gave way to fiery, edgy rock and hard country showmanship at this venue. You know what it’s like to hear a band who have a sound, a unique musical flavor that somehow no one else can duplicate? Well, the Domino Kings have that in spades – a punchy, danceable, ballsy brand of Americana that is loaded with character, unpredictable and physically invigorating. It’s too limiting to call them one of the best trios in Springfield; I’d say they are one of the best rockin’ trios anywhere when they are on. And they were this evening, despite the inexplicably small crowd. Guess there is just too damn much to do in Springfield on a weekend night (including the rowdy Pub Crawl contingent next door to Patton Alley).

The Domino Kings (Steve Newman) (photo credit: TINA CARL)

The Domino Kings think about gals and relationships a lot; their own songs and their choice of covers deal with issues involving the fairer sex continuously. There is Newman’s rousing “Ballad of Katie,” a staple of their shows; Capps’ wickedly catchy “Alice,” about a girl who is “one bad piece of mean”; the Ronnie Dawson classic “Veronica” (which Newman sang the crap out of) and the laser-sharp Blasters tune “Marie, Marie,” on which Newman’s guitar was flat out incendiary. Newman makes zippy, high-energy electric guitar playing look easy; he doesn’t move that much on stage, but man oh man, the sounds coming out of his guitar certainly do. It’s clean, animated, aggressive fretwork that miraculously always manages to be musical and ear friendly, hardly ever self-indulgent, and that’s no easy trick. Even on a crazed medley that I’ve seen the Kings do many times, a bizarrely diverse sonic summation that has room for the “Jeopardy” theme, a quote from Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man,” “Secret Agent Man” and at least a dozen other pop/rock standards from all eras, Newman exhibits awe-inspiring control and discipline, with Capps and Gallier matching him all the way. Capps has written many of the Kings’ most memorable tunes; performed this night were “Dark Side of Love,” a personal favorite, and the rockin’ “Where Your Lies Stop,” along with what I think is an unrecorded tune called “I Don’t Wanna Forget,” not sure. Capps also shone, as he always does with Johnny Cash stuff, on “Delia’s Gone.”

Gallier also deserves special praise here, not just for the tunes he sang such as “My Mind is Ramblin’” (from the band’s debut, LONESOME HIGHWAY), the snarling “Show Me” and the as yet unreleased “Would You Let Me Be Your Man” and “Some Kind of Power,” but for his laser-point timing. Gallier’s “snare ‘n’ stick” style is utterly distinctive, especially given the relatively small size of his kit; he is truly one of my favorite drummers. If Steve Newman and Brian Capps represent “two distinct types of visionaries” (thank you, Spinal Tap!), Gallier is not merely “lukewarm water,” but instead the unexpectedly zesty third element that often pushes the group into the realm of the sublime. He sings and plays with real gusto. Capps must feel very fortunate to work with no less than TWO of the most interesting singing drummers around. I’d personally put these guys up against any similar act in Nashville or the coast that I’ve heard. Each member of the DKs is a vital, perfectly matched part of a rock-solid entity that really deserve more credit than they get. But they haven’t put a record out since 2005, although a new one is reportedly in the bag. And, audiences are fickle; in that regard, Springfield doesn’t differ much from larger cities. Certainly it should be stated here that the Kings rarely have captured on record how good they are live. Their best album, LIFE PLUS 20, comes close in moments and features a handful of stellar Capps compositions and a smooth Lou Whitney production. But you have to hear these guys live to truly experience their gritty, anchored musicianship at its best. “Lonesome Highway” (a real Americana classic), a newer Newman song called (I think) “The Second Luckiest Guy in This Room”, virtually any Capps tune such as “Alice” and an instrumental called “Thrown Clear,” all have this thing about them, a revved-up, rock and roll-abilly, real-life-reflecting edginess that transcends whatever genre you want to call this stuff. Labels be damned. The Domino Kings BRING IT, baby, and it’s some of the best dancing, drinking, carousing music you can ever hope to hear. They oughta be packin’ these dang bars!

The next day, despite not feeling his best and having played for nearly five hours, Mister Capps was off to the Farmers‘ Market in south Springfield for yet ANOTHER Domino Kings gig, an outdoor deal, one that saw rain bursts, nervous vendors, and trucks pulling up halfway through the set to load supplies, interfering with what I would expect a “musician’s mojo” to be. But yet again, the Kings rocked, for an appreciative crowd of about 15 or so that ranged from an elderly man named Harrison (whom I struck up a memorable conversation with) to a couple of young’uns dancing at a stall nearby to an attractive hottie that showed up to hear a couple of tunes, one of which she claimed her uncle co-wrote. It was all just another day’s rockin’ for Capps, one of the area’s most dedicated and talented musicians, and his extraordinary colleagues. You wanna see a musical work ethic at its finest? Try Springfield, folks. No wimps allowed.

GREAT LIVE ALBUMS (19)

Live recordings have been a part of the music industry since day one of the crude technology of the earliest devices. In fact, since there were really no studios available for recording purposes, all of those early “records” were “live recordings” in the strictest sense. However, the live album, as we now know it, is a completely different animal. That animal came into its own in the rock era and exploded with the release of ALIVE, a 1975 album by KISS, (a career making release with an overabundance of what has come to be known as “studio sweetening”), and FRAMPTON COMES ALIVE in 1976 (also hurtling “the face” and former Humble Pie guitarist to superstardom). With the unprecedented success of Peter Frampton’s fifth solo release, everybody and their brothers were releasing these documents of their latest tours (sometimes used as stop gaps between studio albums; sometimes used as a means to gain an artist’s release from a record label contract, commonly referred to as the “contractual obligation” record).

A lot of people don’t like live albums. I’m not one of those. Some of my favorite records were recorded on the road. Here’s a list of 20 live albums that I think are the best. These records are all official releases, not bootlegs… that’s a whole other list (and one you may see somewhere down the line, as well). I had a hard time keeping this list to 20 (it started out as a “Top10”) and, I’m sure that your list would look very different from this one. But, that’s what makes these things so much fun, right? So, here’s number 19, the next in a series of reviews presenting 20 live albums that you should check out:

(19) THE SENSATIONAL ALEX HARVEY BAND: LIVE

(ATLANTIC RECORDS; 1975)

To say that Alex Harvey was a haunted, damaged soul may be an understatement. It has been well documented that he never really recovered from his brother Les’ onstage electrocution while a member of Stone the Crows. Alex blamed himself because he introduced his younger brother to Maggie Bell, which led to the two forming that band. Alex hid his pain with alcohol and by becoming the jokester, leading his new band, the Sensational Alex Harvey Band, as it winded its way to success via their high-powered, glam-tinged Vaudevillian stage show. I came to the show late, as far as SAHB (as they were called, because… well, their full name does not exactly roll trippingly off the tongue) was concerned… three albums into their joint career (Alex had been performing in various bands since the late ’50s; the other guys – of which, more later – were a band called Tear Gas, who released two albums before hooking up with Harvey). The very first time I heard (and saw) the group was on some late night concert thingy some time in 1974. I was, to say the least, blown away! I remember going on the hunt for anything by the band and, living in Podunk USA, the best I could do was special order a copy of the then-new album, THE IMPOSSIBLE DREAM. And that brings us to the fabulous LIVE album, recorded on May 24, the last night of the group’s 1975 English tour. LIVE was, unfortunately, a single record (around 45 minutes in length; about half of the actual show), at a time when double live albums were de rigueur. But, oh, what a record it was!

The Sensational Alex Harvey Band (Chris Glen, Hugh McKenna, Zal Cleminson, Alex Harvey, Ted McKenna) (uncredited photo) — The Sensational Alex Harvey Band (Chris Glen, Ted McKenna, Zal Cleminson, Alex Harvey, Hugh McKenna) (uncredited photo)

The record starts with a brief “Fanfare (Justly, Skillfully, Magnanimously)” followed by a creepy, Glaswegian voice welcoming the audience, “Good evening, boys and girls. It’s a gas to be here… I would like to take this opportunity to introduce you to my band. The Sensational Alex Harvey Band.” Way better, in my mind, than, “You wanted the best, you got the best!” A pumping keyboard (organ, synthesizer or… ?) and shaker from Hugh McKenna introduces the lascivious “Faith Healer,” before Ted McKenna (Hugh’s cousin), Chris Glen and Zal Cleminson join in, on drums, bass and guitar, respectively. This is as good a place as any to mention that Cleminson is an exceptionally gifted and expressive guitar player with a style and tone that – like Queen’s Brian May and REO Speedwagon’s Gary Richrath – is immediately recognizable; the mime face paint and modified jester’s outfit alongside his rubbery facial expressions only add to the effect. When Alex growls the first line of the song, “Let me put my hands on you,” it is evident that his motives are far from noble. While the focal point of the stage show may rest more on the antics of Zal and Chris, it is quite obvious that this is, in fact, Alex’s band. Hugh introduces the next tune, as well, with a pretty, soft electric piano. As Harvey steps to the mic, he introduces “Tomahawk Kid” as a song “inspired by Robert Louis Stevenson.” The TREASURE ISLAND and KIDNAPPED pirate references abound as the percolating rhythm leads to a great harmony duet between synthesizer and guitar; I’m not really sure that I’ve ever heard anything like it, but I do know that I like it! Zal doesn’t do a whole lot of soloing (which, of course, one would expect from a lead guitarist… especially live), but his lead, rhythm and fill work are masterpieces nonetheless. With the band adding “Yo-ho-ho” backing vocals on the chorus, the song catches fire and draws you into the story. The first side ends with the “Vambo” section of “The Hot City Symphony,” complete with Alex reading from “The Book of Vambo,” delivering a litany of heroic deeds that Vambo Marble-Eye, a being who is “like a cross between Santa Claus and Spider-Man,” is responsible for. There is a manic middle section, which features Alex spray-painting “Vambo Rools!!” on a brick wall to the back of the stage (if you’re unfamiliar with SAHB’s live show, you’ll have to trust me on that) and, yes… that is a frenzied guitar solo from Cleminson. It is a masterful performance, a touch above the studio version from THE IMPOSSIBLE DREAM, but Alex and his boys saved the best for side two.

The Sensational Alex Harvey Band (uncredited photo)

The band was promoting a new album, TOMORROW BELONGS TO ME and, while a few tunes from that release were played on the 1975 tours, only one made the LIVE record: “Give My Compliments To the Chef.” It’s an ominous tune with a heavy bass riff and a moody piano leading to the first line, delivered in a sad and resigned fashion: “Mother, dear, did you hear/How they are teaching me to do the goosestep?” The song is a wicked, veiled reference to a certain menu item… SOYLENT GREEN, anybody? The tune starts slow but, by the second half, Alex has worked his band into a lather, driving them hard to the finish. If you listen closely, you can hear him panting during the applause after. The Sensational Alex Harvey Band were always known for their use of the well-chosen cover tune. The point is proven on a wild, waltz-like take of the Tom Jones hit, “Delilah.” The version used on LIVE was so powerful that it was released as a single itself and became the group’s biggest chart success. Again, Hugh’s keyboards seem to lead the band, though the others, especially Zal, do have their moments. The slow middle section features (again, you’ll have to take my word… no… wait… just check the video evidence!) Cleminson and Glen prancing across the stage in an approximation of a waltz, leaving Alex to his own devices amid a pile of mannequins. His vocals are weird and menacing, made more so by the backing vocals by the others. The album finale is another cover, the Leiber-Stoller chestnut, “Framed.” Harvey’s intro, while sticking fairly close to the original, is classic: “I’m walking down the street, minding my own affair/When two policemen grab me and I’m unaware/They said, is your name Alexander/ And I said, well, why sure/They said, well, you’re the cat that we been lookin’ for/But I was… FRA-MUH-DUH!/I never done nothin’!” SAHB’s version has a hard rock/glam feel, with some great boogie piano running through it and… guess what?… another awesome solo from Cleminson. The second “monologue” from Alex is a garbled mess… mostly because he’s wearing a pair of panty hose over his head. As the band kicks it back into high gear, Mister Harvey begins to plead his case to the audience. He asks them if they believe him, if they are on his side. “Do you believe me? No? You don’t believe me? The concert is canceled!” He pits the audience against the band, blaming them for all of his woes and emerges victorious, slamming into one of the more bombastic finishes ever recorded. I would certainly like to hear the complete, uncut concert but, I find it hard to believe that they could ever improve upon the sequencing and pacing of this one record; it’s that good! And, that’s why it sits at number 19 on my list of great live albums.

DO THE ARCHITECTURAL WATUSI Music Reviews Streaming Video | Darren Tracy | June 29, 2014 | Alex Harvey Chris Glen Classic Rock Glam Rock Hugh McKenna List Live Recording Progressive Rock Rock Music Streaming Video Tear Gas Ted McKenna The Sensational Alex Harvey Band Theatrical Rock Zal Cleminson

WISHBONE ASH: BLUE HORIZON

(SOLID ROCKHOUSE RECORDS; 2014)

All through the 1970s – my formative years as a music lover – my brother managed a trucking terminal a few miles from an MCA Records pressing plant. Naturally, all of their product shipped through that terminal. And, just as naturally, there were instances where some of that product was damaged. This product basically fell to my brother to do with as he saw fit. So, what does that story have to do with Wishbone Ash? Well, Wishbone Ash’s US label was Decca, an imprint of MCA. The first time I heard the Ash was when my brother brought an impressive stack of vinyl for my consumption: The Who, Elton John, Budgie, Neil Diamond, Blues Project, Blue Mink, Mose Jones and… the first three Wishbone Ash albums (just to name a few). Holy Batcrap, Commisioner Gordon! I had slipped into my own blissful state of musical Nirvana! Thanks to my brother, Mike, I eventually owned every Ash record up to THERE’S THE RUB (they jumped ship in the States to Atlantic Records for two albums before returning to MCA) and I loved every one! That kinda makes me a “lifelong fan.”

Wishbone Ash (Joe Crabtree, Andy Powell, Bob Skeat, Muddy Manninen) (photo credit: TIM ASSMANN)

Like those two Atlantic releases and all but a select few since, this new Ash album is a hit or miss affair for me. It ain’t horrible… in fact, once you tally the points, there are more hits than misses. “Take It Back” opens the proceedings. A track that is very much in the vein of the Laurie Wisefield era, it features the trademark harmony guitar sound, a solid vocal from Andy Powell and fiddle from longtime associate, Pat McManus. Reverting to the band’s blues roots, “Deep Blues” has the aggressive sound of the group’s first album. The song has a great blues riff and some finest-kind soloing from both Andy and Jyrki “Muddy” Manninen. “Strange How Things Come Back Around” is another Laurie-sounding tune with some odd, Frippian guitar synchopations. I’m not too sure about those backing vocal “la-la’s” during the slower bridge sections… they seem to drag the whole thing down. There’s a fade in/fade out right before the instrumental break leading into the solos that completely transform the number into a kind of Tommy Bolin era Deep Purple funk thing. While there is certainly an air of the familiar, this is not your standard Wishbone Ash song and, actually, is rather enjoyable because of it.

One of the few misses, “Being One,” sees the Laurie Wisefield love-fest continuing. Unfortunately, Powell delves into two of the group’s weaker albums (NEW ENGLAND and LOCKED IN) for inspiration. The song has a slow, funky sort of groove which, eventually, morphs into a progressive jazz piece… with all of the trappings that the term connotes. Powell’s silky voice provides a welcome tension to the rough riffs and hard edges. “Way Down South” is a lazy, laconic (as the name implies) Iain Matthews/Fairport Convention style folk number. The tempo picks up during the instrumental section, with Bob Skeat’s deep, emotive bass leading the way into another nice solo. The tune isn’t awful but, at well over six-and-a-half minutes, it’s just too long for it’s own good. Next up is “Tally Ho!” Now, this is more like it! This is the Wishbone Ash I fell I love with way back when, the progressive folk banner flying high. There are moments that recall “Leaf and Stream” from the legendary ARGUS and, the solos in the middle section are quite effective in context. My only complaint is this: Andy’s vocals are a little weak here; this is one instance with the latter-day Ash where the vocals of either Ted or Martin Turner would have worked better. Speaking of vocals, Manninen makes his debut on lead with the dirty blues of “Mary Jane.” His voice is a little rough but, a welcome change from Powell’s (I really am a fan of Andy’s voice… it’s just that over the course of ten tracks… well, you know, variety and spices and such). The tune features some very nice harmony guitar work and a couple of slide solos.

Wishbone Ash live, circa 2009 (uncredited photo)

After mentioning the refreshing change of pace from Andy’s vocals on the last track, he delivers what may be his two best vocal performances on BLUE HORIZON. “American Century” features an aggressive “FUBB” like intro before settling into a PHOENIX or ARGUS progressive groove. The drums of Joe Crabtree keeps a mid-tempo rhythm going, while Skeat’s charging bass propels the tune forward at a faster pace, creating a brilliant musical dichotomy. “Blue Horizon” is definitely a “song” in the strictest sense, with powerful lyrics and atmospheric vocals on display over the pure musicianship of the players (the hallmark of Wishbone Ash). That isn’t to say that the musicianship is sub-par; far from it! The guitars seem a little louder and each solo sends the tune into a different place, stylistically. The first has a James Bond/mystery vibe happening while others have a majestic, almost Floydian feel. Eventually, everything kicks into a more Ash sounding instrumental section, with Tom Greenwood adding some nice organ flourishes. The ARGUS song, “The King Will Come,” is evoked with “All There Is To Say.” It’s another pretty, Cletic folk tune, with guitars and lyrics reminiscent of that earlier number. Pat McManus adds some very nice fiddle and bazouki for a more folky feel. If you’re a long time fan, BLUE HORIZON will fit comfortably next to the rest of your Wishbone Ash albums, though it may not get as much play; if you’re new to the band, I think that you’ll find the album a refreshing change from a lot of today’s music and will, ultimately, lead you to seek out those earlier albums.

DO THE ARCHITECTURAL WATUSI Music Reviews Streaming Video | Darren Tracy | June 28, 2014 | Andy Powell Bob Skeat Classic Rock Joe Crabtree Jyrki "Muddy" Manninen Music Pat McManus Progressive Folk Rock Progressive Rock Rock and Roll Streaming Video Wishbone Ash

SWANS/XIU XIU

(June 24, 2014; THE READY ROOM; Saint Louis, MO)

The Ready Room (photo crdit: JASON STOFF)

At some shows I’ve been to in recent years, particularly smaller ones, I’ve looked at the audience as much as the performers, trying to gauge people’s reactions and suss out what kind of experience they were having. When you’re dealing with a noncommercial act like Swans, the Michael Gira-led entity that inhabits one end of the post-punk spectrum, you can’t help wondering about the fans and why this kinda assaultive sonic maelstrom appeals to them. This is not to pass judgment, as I AM such a fan. It’s just… why? How can long, discordant, punishing slabs of dark drone and indecipherable lyrics be life-affirming? Do you leave such an experience in a good mood, and just say to your concert-going pals, “Man, that was great!” the way you would after a normal concert? I dunno. But I did indeed utter “That was pretty amazing” to MY companion for the night, and I did experience SOME kind of catharsis. But I’m not sure what it was. I do know I won’t forget it.

Xiu Xiu (uncredited photo from June 20, 2014)

I wasn’t overly familiar with Swans going in; I’d heard a few bits and pieces, and read some articles about them. But never had a chance to experience their sound up close before. Warning was given via a sign on the door that the concert was going to be extremely loud (helpful hint, that!), so ear plugs were clearly in order. But actually, I’ve been to louder, even though it WAS a punishing volume throughout. Things kicked off with a bizarre half hour opening stint by an incarnation of Xiu Xiu that included only founder Jamie Stewart. I’d been looking forward to hearing some songs from Xiu Xiu’s early CDs that I happened to own, but it was not to be. Stewart sat at a synth console and delivered a piercing monolithic tone that gradually got louder and louder, and gradually added other drone elements until it evolved into a squall of noisy dark ambient matter that was alternatingly hypnotic and tedious. He never said a word and never looked up, and I wouldn’t have even known this had anything to do with the Xiu Xiu I once listened to unless I’d done some research the next day. One thing’s for sure; you don’t see this kinda thing on stage in Saint Louis very often.

Swans live, May 28, 2014 (photo credit: ANDREW NOVELL)

The wait for Swans was short and, it’s pretty clear when you lay eyes (and ears) on a crazed codger like Michael Gira that you’re in the presence of a twisted original. It seems almost irrelevant to mention song titles, because at a show like this, only hardcore fans would care about such a thing. Swans “tunes” are really long, really repetitive and singularly immersive; variety is not what you’re in for at a show like this. But, okay… “Frankie M” and “A Little God in My Hands” were the first two tunes. Layered gongs kicked off the former, and your ears had no choice but to instantly surrender to the onslaught. I was distracted almost immediately by a comely young woman swaying to the sound, yes, swaying to a sound that most of my friends would’ve bolted from within minutes. Heck, I thought girls liked dancing to stuff with a beat and a sing-along chorus. But damn, even the weirdest and most anti-commercial of bands gotta have their female followers, I suppose. “ …God… ” began with a slashing, repeated chord or whatever you’d call the combination of tones that kicked this one off. I was reminded of Eno’s oblique strategy card, “Repetition is a form of change,” a notion that Eno pioneered and that Swans have seemingly taken to another level. No one would be able to lose themselves in this kind of sonic overload if it was truly just one continuous, unvarying tone but, the fact is, Gira’s band conjure a gargantuan symphony of strident yet structured noisetronica that is ferociously willful and ultimately transfixing. The crowd was apparently riveted, although one girl sitting next to me was peacefully reading a paperback novel half the time, and I wondered about her temperament. I wouldn’t have been able to get through a single page of any book with this kinda music in the background.

Gira has a trademark way of holding his hands out to each side, shaking them a little, symmetrically, sometimes with eyes closed. He’s a curious figurehead with his long hair and piercing gaze, and seems genuinely appreciative that he gets to do this sort of thing. My companion and I chatted about how this sort of music can only exist and, in fact, progress, if its makers are utterly serious and committed to what they do. Not an issue at all with Swans. The cacophonous “The Apostate” was next, and it was thunderous, with atonal chord play, primal sludgy ambience and a sound that struck my ears as “Da U WOOM/ Da U WOOM!” It went on for a long, long time and, again, I couldn’t help watching the Ready Room patrons, most of whom watched with rapt attention and, a few of whom attempted to move their bodies in one way or another to this crazed sound. I wouldn’t want to hear this sort of thing every day, but experiencing it live was a pretty singular experience. Something almost approaching “tonal variety” came with the song “Just A Little Boy,” which made me think of the eerie Talking Heads song, “The Overload.” Straight-up dirge-y angst, the lyrics go, “Now I sleep in the belly of woman/And I sleep in the belly of man/And I sleep in the belly of rhythm/And I sleep in the belly of love.” Maybe not manifesto territory here, but Gira is clearly saying SOMETHING, and trying to do so in the context of a long, assaultive drone makes it brave and interesting. It was actually one of the more emotionally resonant moments of the evening.

Fire trucks appeared in fromt of the Ready Room two different times, once early in the evening, and once during “Don’t Go,” when the flashing red lights got the attention of anyone near the windows (including yours truly) and made me wonder whether a fire code violation had occurred, or whether the crew outside had been tipped off about something that needed to be “watched” at this show. No doubt the attendance was amazing; the line waiting to get into the RR was thrice longer than I had been anticipating. Gira gets good publicity. Anyway, the sound slabs during this number were particularly intense, with two or three bass notes played insistently while granite chunks of guitar, percussion and keys were hurled out into the crowd with abandon. My mind wandered (and a few Shock Top drafts added splendidly to the mood), and I thought that if Gira’s story was ever made into a movie, either Michael Madsen or Guy Pearce would have to be cast as the lead. Scruffy intensity was definitely called for. The one-two climactic punch of “Bring the Sun/Black Hole Man” was sometimes evocative and haunting, sometimes poundingly nasty, with lyrics almost impossible to decipher (although I’d swear I heard the phrase “Joseph is riding” once or twice). But, hey, lyrics are not the point of a Swans song. Immersive surrender to the darkest of dark waves is more in order. And, actually, I left in admiration for the perverse, primal simplicity of what Swans have to offer. Though there is little pleasure or comfort to be had in a show like this, the catharsis is real, and the visceral release is palpable. It’s important for music to stake out EDGES to explore, places where few dare go and declare, “Okay, this is what’s out here in THIS place, check it out if you’re so inclined.” I’m grateful to have experienced that thing that Swans do, even if I’ll be scratching my head for a long time over what it means, and how that girl could’ve gotten through a good portion of her book with Swans as the background soundtrack. Each to their own in this world, truly…

DO THE ARCHITECTURAL WATUSI Live Music Reviews | Kevin Renick | June 26, 2014 | Ambient Music Avant-Garde Music Electronic Music Experimental Music Jamie Stewart Live Music Michael Gira Minimalist Music Rock Music Saint Louis Swans The Ready Room Xiu Xiu

MUSK OX: WOODFALL

(SELF-RELEASED; 2014)

Musk Ox is a three-piece from Canada, fronted by classically trained guitarist and unrepentant metal-head, Nathanael Larochette. Nothing spectacular about that, right? I’m sure that you can name at least one other Canadian three-piece (Rush, anyone?) Well, how’s this for spectacular, then? The trio also features cellist Raphael Weinroth-Browne and violinist – and newest member – Evan Runge and they perform chamber music with the musical passion and emotional heft of metal. The group’s second full-length release (to go along with three EPs), WOODFALL is a suite in five parts, evoking the peace and serenity of beautiful and untouched Canadian landscapes. The piece runs approximately an hour in length and features some of the most breathtaking original chamber music that I’ve heard in a very long time.

Musk Ox (Evan Runge, Raphael Weinroth-Browne and Nathanael Larochette) (publicity photo)

The pastoral “Earthrise” gives way to an impression that, viscerally, feels like its title: “Windswept.” With the violin and classical guitar taking the lead, separately and in tandem, the cello holds the bottom end, acting as much as a percussive instrument as a stringed one. When Weinroth-Browne does bring his instrument to the fore, it is amazingly effective. “Arcanum” is quite a powerful piece and it’s here that Larochette’s metal upbringing truly shines through. I think, that in his utter arrogance, this is the kind of guitarist that Yngwie Malmsteen fancies himself to be. Yngwie would shove his head through a wall trying to play this stuff! An unbridled sense of serenity ushers in “Above the Clouds,” alternating with a charging cello, possibly indicative of storm clouds brewing. Again, there is a very metallic sturm und drang emotional roller coaster ride going on here and features some of my favorite moments of the entire suite. As night falls, it is time to “Serenade the Constellations.” Runge and Weinroth-Browne play harmonics for much of the first piece, with a lilting Larochette guitar part playing over that bed. Runge occasionally steps out for a solo part or joining the guitar for more harmony playing, creating a nice Celtic folk ambiance. Though the album filled with great, heart-stopping moments throughout, this final 17-plus minute piece is probably my favorite overall. The five separate impressions of WOODFALL has taken us full circle, from pastoral morning to beautiful night and back again. Okay, Canada… I guess this makes up for Celine Dion and Loverboy… but just barely, eh?

DO THE ARCHITECTURAL WATUSI Music Reviews | Darren Tracy | June 24, 2014 | Chamber Music Evan Runge Instrumental Music Music Musk Ox Nathanael Larochette Raphael Weinroth-Browne

CABARET VOLTAIRE: #7885 (ELECTROPUNK TO TECHNOPOP 1978-1985)

(MUTE RECORDS; 2014)

In the days of our youth (to quote that Bob dude from the New Yardbirds), we were continually in search of the next new and exciting sound (thankfully, unlike our hairline, that hasn’t changed!). Somewhere around 1980, we became enamored of an English synth-pop group called Cabaret Voltaire (after the famous Zurich night spot), via their excellent second album, THE VOICE OF AMERICA. In the next couple of years, they also released the exceptional RED MECCA album and an equally impressive double 12” set called 2X45. We thoroughly enjoyed (and continue to do so) these three slabs of influential music, at the forefront of a genre that also included Throbbing Gristle, Soft Cell, Depeche Mode and others but, as is our wont, we were soon off, exploring new musical boundaries once again. Now, thanks to Mute Records and founding Cab (and sole remaining member), Richard H Kirk, we have a purposely concise collection, highlighting the prime years of the band’s output. With #7885 (ELECTROPUNK TO TECHNOPOP 1978-1985), Kirk has taken a backward glance at some of the shorter recordings (in fact, the longest track, “Animation,” clocks in at around 5:40) from the band – compiling single tracks, radio edits and well-chosen album tracks – to give old fans and newcomers alike a taste of the growth and diversity experienced by the Cabs during that six year period.

The set starts with two tracks from the first Cabaret Voltaire release, the four track EXTENDED PLAY. Both “Do the Mussolini (Headkick)” and “The Set Up” feature industrial beats, a heavily processed vocal and stinging guitar, a sound that was instrumental in ushering in the post-punk era of rock music. The next three tunes exhibit the punk side of the Cabs: “Nag Nag Nag” is one of the great punk singles of all time; “On Every Other Street” is a killer track from the original trio’s first full-length, 1979’s MIX UP, a primitive punk stomper with snarling vocals; “Silent Command” is a dancey, jangley, dubby, happy single release from the same year… kinda like “This Is Radio Clash” or any of the other dub offerings from that band. A track from THE VOICE OF AMERICA follows. “Kneel To the Boss,” is an oddly minimalist dance track with moody, disjointed vocals. The single, “Seconds Too Late,” is slower, moodier and more repetitive than anything presented so far and, it’s the better for it. “Landslide,” from the RED MECCA album, has a slinky Eastern European or Asian feel that is very appealing (you can check out the entire RED MECCA release, too, as Mute has recently reissued it in a new vinyl edition). 1982’s 2X45 gives us the hard funk of “Breathe Deep,” complete with horns and a guest appearance by drummer Alan Fish.

The second half of the disc is mostly 7” mixes or radio edits, starting with “Just Fascination.” It’s got a creepy Aphex Twin sort of vocal thing going on… kind of breathy and menacing. The synth and bass are particularly menacing here. Following is a radio edit of “Crackdown,” which features a repeating, syncopated drum pattern and almost whispered vocals. The synth and bass are more spongy on “Animation,” a mood lightening dance track. The next two songs, “The Dream Ticket” and “Sensoria,” feature a rather hyper dance club vibe, reminding me of Thomas Dolby’s brilliant “She Blinded Me With Science.” From 1984, “James Brown” is exactly what you think it should be: A sweaty groove with horns and a funky wha-wah guitar thing happening down in the mix. DRINKING GASOLINE featured four tracks, each running over eight minutes. Two tracks, “Kino” and “Big Funk,” were whittled down for radio consumption. They’re both suffering from disco overload but, as the name implies, the latter is funkier and more adventurous, sorta like “Rockit” by Herbie Hancock from a couple years earlier. “I Want You” is a stylistic hybrid. Think Spandau Ballet meets Duran Duran. The final cut, “Warm,” comes from the 1985 record, THE COVENANT, THE SWORD AND THE ARM OF THE LORD (retitled, simply, THE ARM OF THE LORD for obvious reasons in the US). It is a rather unremarkable tune from a rather unremarkable release. We understand that Mister Kirk wanted to be representative of every phase of this period in the group’s career, but #7885 could have done without this last one. This really is a good introduction to Cabaret Voltaire. After checking it out, we strongly suggest that you delve further into the three releases mentioned in the first paragraph, as well as EXTENDED PLAY. They are, indeed, the pinnacle of experimental, post-punk bliss from the group.

DO THE ARCHITECTURAL WATUSI Music Reviews Streaming Video | Darren Tracy | June 23, 2014 | Cabaret Voltaire Compilation Dance Music Electronic Music Music Post-Punk Music RED MECCA Richard H Kirk Streaming Video Synth-Pop Music THE VOICE OF AMERICA

ANTI-MORTEM: NEW SOUTHERN

(NUCLEAR BLAST RECORDS; 2014)

The members of Anti-Mortem are, on average, 21 years old. That’s really nothing special… rock and roll has always been a young man’s (or woman’s) game, even though some of those youngsters have grown up and continued to excel at their chosen craft. What is special is that, on their debut release, these five Oklahomans have the sound and the chops of a much more experienced band. We can, perhaps, give a nod to veteran producer Bob Marlette for the sound but, the music and lyrics are all Anti-Mortem. And, even though there is a certain cohesiveness to the record, these guys wear their influences like a badge of honor: Classic 1970s hard rock, late 1990s new American metal, Southern Rock and dirty Blues all have played a part in making this band what they are. “Words of Wisdom” kick-starts the album with some nu-metal downtuning and a Classic Rock vibe. Toss in liberal doses of snotty Alice Cooper style vocals and a touch of Molly Hatchet Southern Rock arrogance and that, my friends, is what Anti-Mortem is all about. The title track cements the sound. It has a chugging Rob Zombie-like Southern stomp with a swampy Zakk Wylde kind of guitar thing happening. The chorus, “New Southern, I live this way/Going straight to Hell on a rainy day/New Southern, cuz I live this way,” is the basic theme of the album and credo for the band. “100% Pure American Rage” sounds like it coulda been an outtake from Alice’s BRUTAL PLANET album… about a bunch of kids saying “enough is enough.” There’s a line that goes something like, “This devil’s going to make you pay,” which sounds like a warning shot to those who seek to do us harm, all in the name of their “God.” But, the message is actually a quite different and very simple one, as highlighted in the video for the tune: “Choose your weapon!” The next song, “Hate Automatic” offers a similar sentiment, this time directed at a more homegrown kind of terrorist: The bullys, the kids that bring assault rifles to the playground and the classroom.

Hitting like a more intense Shinedown, “Black Heartbeat” is a vicious break-up song with a definite Southern groove dominated by Levi Dickerson’s solid drumming. “I Get Along With the Devil” is a rampaging, Metallica-on-steroids groover, highlighted by some awesome guitar work throughout, provided by Zain Smith and Nevada Romo. A Black Label Society kind of slow-cooker, “Path To Pain” features another onslaught of grinding, stinging guitars and what may just be Larado Romo’s best vocal performance. “Wake Up” is more of a mid-’70s hard rock thing, filtered through the grunge of Alice In Chains and the swamp boogie of Black Label Society’s early stuff.

Anti-Mortem (Levi Dickerson, Navada Romo, Laredo Romo, Zain Smith, Corey Henderson) (photo credit: CLARK DEAL)

“Ride of Your Life” has a horror feel… musically, it falls somewhere between Rob Zombie and the Michale Graves era Misfits. The tune features one of the more memorable riffs I’ve heard in a while and a really cool breakdown leading into a buzz saw of a guitar solo. I’m not exactly sure how to read “Stagnant Water.” It’s either about a murder or a suicide, revenge or blessed relief. The over-all lyrical message is, “Everybody has demons to face and a breaking point that sends them over the edge.” It definitely has some of the best imagery on the album. A “life on the road,” hookers ‘n’ musicians in heat song, “Truck Stop Special” kinda reminds me of SCREAM DREAM era Uncle Ted. The guitar even has that sweet tone that Ted is known for, especially on the solo. Finally, everything that you love about ’70s Southern Rock and late-’90s alternative and metal music is encompassed in one killer four-minute-and-fifteen-second track called “Jonesboro.” It is the perfect closer to a very strong debut album. (There’s also a bonus cover of Mister Big’s “A Little Too Loose,” which I haven’t heard… I’m not real sure which version it’s on.) I’m expecting great things from this group in the future. I’ve said this many times before and it bears repeating here: “Go ye forth, mine brethren (and sisterns?) and consume!”

DO THE ARCHITECTURAL WATUSI Music Reviews Streaming Video | Darren Tracy | June 22, 2014 | Anti-Mortem Bob Marlette Classic Rock Corey Henderson Hard Rock Heavy Metal Laredo Romo Levi Dickerson Music Navada Romo Southern Rock Streaming Video Zain Smith

DETROIT COBRAS/PUJOL/NIKKI LANE

(June 12, 2014; THE DEMO, Saint Louis, MO)

This is my first sojourn to the Demo on Manchester Avenue, in the Grove section of the city (which has turned into something of a “Music Row,” with what seems to be a couple dozen live music venues). With a capacity of 200, the Demo is what is known as an “intimate room.” That term also connotes the friendly atmosphere offered by Jake Snyder and his knowledgeable staff. Ben Schulte, the production manager, goes above and beyond to guarantee the best sound possible, insuring a positive experience for both patron and musician. The musicians on this night’s vintage-style anything goes bill is the hard-working rock ‘n’ blues party combo, the Detroit Cobras, the punky Pujol and the real-deal country of Nikki Lane.

Nikki Lane, in the midst of her first headlining tour, opted to open for this show rather than go up against the proven might of the Cobras. I’m glad she did! By doing so, she has insured that the next time she plays the Lou, the fans will turn out for her. Nikki’s set was short, but very sweet: Three tunes from her just-released sophomore album, ALL OR NOTHIN’, a couple from her debut (2011’s WALK OF SHAME) and a cover of Tom Petty’s “Saving Grace.” Her backing band – they’ve dubbed themselves “Team Thunder,” a name that Nikki abhors – are a well-oiled machine… just wish I woulda remembered to get names! The guitar player, in particular, impressed with a myriad of styles, from hardcore country twang to chugging blues riffs to over-the-top psychedelic soloing. And, let’s not forget the lead singer in the band: Nikki, two albums into what should be a very successful career, certainly commands your attention with her singing (thanks in part, I’m sure, to her deft songwriting talents) and her between song quips and intros. A great set that has me counting down to her next Saint Louis date.

Pujol (Daniel Pujol) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)

Shifting gears completely, Daniel Pujol and his band (the creatively named Pujol) offered an entirely different view of the Nashville music scene. Daniel’s songs and arrangements are a few cuts above the standard punk sound that you’re likely to hear on any given night at just about any club in the country. Aside from Daniel’s (and his guitar cohort, who’s name I didn’t get) continual shredding (and occasional harmonic duets), the set’s focal point was at the back of the stage: Tiffany Minton was a diminutive dynamo, keeping the beat with arms flailing and her kinetic energy driving the songs at an almost breakneck speed. Pujol’s interesting vocals – kinda like Geddy Lee on helium – were, unfortunately, somewhat lost in the mix, causing a few in the crowd to miss the nuances inherent in his lyrics. The power and musical acumen of the group, thankfully, nullified the problem.

The Detroit Cobras (Dale Wilson and Richie Wohlfeil) (photo credit: DARREN TRACY)

Rachel Nagy, the Detroit Cobras’ powerhouse vocalist, was ready to rock ‘n’ roll. The band blasted through a long set of classic R and B and rock songs, with Rachel front-and-center and longtime band mate, guitarist Mary Ramirez, holding things down on stage left (right in front of improbable scenester and local pain, Beatle Bob). Stage right was occupied by Mary’s guitar counterpart, Reuben Glazer, and bassist Dale Wilson; holding the beat was Richie Wohlfeil, doing more with a simple kit (and a cut in the palm of his hand) than most can accomplish with a set that would make Neil Peart envious. For some unknown reason, the crowd was slow to warm up to the hard working, hard partying vibes coming from the stage, not really getting into the groove until the fourth song, a rare original, “Hot Dog (Watch Me Eat).” That’s something that I’ll find myself pondering for some time to come… all the while basking in the glow of my very first Detroit Cobras show.

DO THE ARCHITECTURAL WATUSI Live Music Reviews | Darren Tracy | June 21, 2014 | Alternative Country Ben Schulte Country Music Dale Wilson Daniel Pujol Jake Snyder Live Music Mary Ramirez Music Nikki Lane Pujol Punk Rock Rachel Nagy Reuben Glazer Rhythm and Blues Richie Wohlfeil Rock and Roll Saint Louis Team Thunder The Demo The Detroit Cobras The Grove Tiffany Minton

SWANS: TO BE KIND

(YOUNG GOD RECORDS; 2014)

Have you ever liked something so much that you have a hard time describing it to your friends? Yeah, me, too. As a matter of fact, I’m finding it really difficult to put words and phrases in an order that will convey how utterly smitten I am with the new Swans record, TO BE KIND. To say that it’s “awesome” may just be the understatement of the century and, anything I do say will not give the sprawling (over two hours on two CDs or three records… there’s also a “deluxe edition,” which features a live DVD), majestic beast its just deserts. However, that is my job, so I’m going to try, song by song, to describe the wonders that are Swans’ TO BE KIND. Forgive me for the comparative shopping that I offer in an effort to give you, at the very least, a small reference point in the history of music that you may better grasp the scope of what Michael Gira and band have accomplished here.

The first disc starts with “Screen Shot,” a minimalist, loopy (as in circumlocutious) track with a great poly-rhythmic drum coda that turns into an unrelenting cacophony of buzzing guitars a little over six minutes in. Gira’s vocals here remind me of Mark E Smith’s very early work with the Fall. Referencing another avant legend, “Screen Shot” very well could have been the great, lost Residents song. “Just a Little Boy (For Chester Burnett)” is a much harsher affair. This is the Swans sound that I was introduced to, lo, these many years ago. The next track, “A Little God In My Hands,” is the funk number. Imagine a brasher, much more abrasive Public Image Limited. “Bring the Sun” is paired with “ToussaintL’Ouverture,” but don’t feel like you’re getting slighted by this coupling… the track is right at 34 minutes long. Now that is bang for your buck! But… is it any good? Let’s examine, shall we? “Bring the Sun” is a shamanistic “Black Juju” filtered through the Cult stopping by for a drink at a Doors reunion at Morrison’s grave, with liberal doses of trance-inducing Middle Eastern chanting. As the name implies, “Toussaint L’Ouverture” is a Satanic church service evoking the name of the Black Napoleon, leader of the 1791 slave revolt in what would become Haiti. Think of it as the New Orleans Hoodoo soundtrack for the Zombie Apocalypso, with disturbing slices of buzz and drone and clatter to up the creep factor. This single, 34 minute track is never dull and never lags; it is as compelling a listen as anything on the album. To follow that up with the shortest song of this collection to end disc one may seem a little odd, but… we are talking about Michael Gira and Swans! “Some Things We Do” clocks in at an economical five minutes. The already claustrophobic feel of the track is enhanced by the low key arrangement, with Julia Kent’s strings adding an odd sense of dread. The song is a litany of, well, some things we do and Gira’s droning vocal delivery is further enhanced by Little Annie’s haunting voice shadowing his own.

“She Loves Us” kicks off disc number two. The first four or five minutes of the piece is yet another minimalist blast of metallic power, featuring Residents-like vocals during the chorus. This leads into an evil sounding instrumental section, very reminiscent of the instrumental section of “Dream Lover” from the 1980 Plasmatics album NEW HOPE FOR THE WRETCHED (in that version, all five members of the band recorded a solo in different rooms… without knowing what the others were playing… it was a beautiful, discordant racket!). The final half of the track slowly settles into the main theme in the form of another mantric, slightly Asian sounding underbelly with a heavily processed tack piano repeating the hypnotic coda. Again, I am reminded of Public Image, with strong vocal and bass similarities, as well as guitars that slash and buzz throughout. A shaker fades in and out of the mix adding to the brutal cacophony of sound, with the final minute and a half coming on like Alice Cooper’s “Killer.” Next, “Kristen Supine” is ten minutes of an ever-tightening web of nightmare-inducing white noise drone from a variety of stringed instruments, guitar and violin being the most prominent. In an album of minimalist performances, the vocals here give the term a new meaning. “Oxygen” is a ludicrously over-the-top James Brown funk workout. And, isn’t that always the best kind? An odd Bedouin throat-chanting kind of thing opens “Nathalie Neal.” Layers of equally odd instrumentation are added – including a repeating guitar riff that could have come from an early Queen record, bells, timbrels and similar percussion instruments, a voice that sounds like an English schoolmarm teaching her students a dance – before the drums and a squadron of swirling, dive-bombing guitars turn up the heat. The title track (“To Be Kind,” in case you’ve forgotten) features an almost recognizable song structure (what could be considered a ballad) before devolving into an angry crescendo of noise over the last couple of minutes. The lyrics, like the first part of the song, are kinda starry-eyed love song stuff. The dichotomy of this track against the sheer brutality of the rest of the album is as jarring as anything else.

So, there you go. Like the album, it wasn’t easy, but I tried to give you a feel of what TO BE KIND is like. It will most certainly make, not just my top ten of 2014, but most such year-end lists… and, deservedly so.

DO THE ARCHITECTURAL WATUSI Music Reviews | Darren Tracy | June 15, 2014 | Avant-Garde Music Julia Kent Michael Gira Minimalist Music Rock Music Swans

THE MONKEES

(June 5, 2014; THE FOX THEATRE, Saint Louis, MO)

Any band that was a significant part of your youth is one that you tend to make allowances for, years later, if they continue to make music. The memories you associate with their songs, the deep familiarity of their music and personas, means you are predisposed to love their show and surrender to the excitement as you did all those years ago. Such is the case for me with the Monkees, a band second only to the Beatles in their pervasive impact on my life in the mid to late ’60s. The first riff I ever played on a guitar was that of “(I’m Not Your) Steppin’ Stone.” The album PISCES, AQUARIUS, CAPRICORN AND JONES, LIMITED was on constant rotation in 1967 in my circles. “Pleasant Valley Sunday” was no less than an anthem. And my favorite Monkees song of all, a Mike Nesmith tune called “Tapioca Tundra,” could very well serve as the soundtrack for my childhood, those peak carefree days of fun TV shows (THE MONKEES among them), innocent crushes, bicycle rides and, always, neighborhood games with my pals. A whole slew of memories are conjured by the spectacle of seeing the Monkees live in concert, and for this tour, with the previously MIA Mike Nesmith leading the charge, things were bound to be interesting. And they were, definitely.

The Monkees, 1966 (Davy Jones, Micky Dolenz, Peter Tork, Michael Nesmith) (publicity photo)

This isn’t the space to discuss the many reasons why Nesmith came aboard only after the band’s heartthrob, Davy Jones, passed away unexpectedly in 2012. It can certainly be said that Nesmith was always a champion for the Monkees’ musicianship and control over their legacy, and perhaps he felt both needed to be reasserted and “freshened up” after the Vegas-style theatricality of several previous Monkees tours that were certainly Jones-centric. Having seen at least half a dozen previous Monkees shows, I can say with confidence that the goofing around and animated stage patter the band is known for was dramatically lessened at their Fox show, relegated to continuous clips from their TV show that screened both during and between their performances. Sometimes these clips were hysterical, sometimes they were monotonous, but they reminded you of where these four guys came from and what they were called upon to do, at least from 1966 until their disastrous (commercially speaking) movie, HEAD, ended one phase of their career. Nesmith, with thinning hair and wearing a dapper white jacket over a Sun Records t-shirt, was a quietly commanding presence at this show. He didn’t say that much, nor did the expression on his face change much, but he was authoritative and he meant business, musically speaking.

The Monkees, 2014 (Michael Nesmith, Micky Dolenz, Peter Tork) (uncredited photo)

After a slightly tame “Last Train to Clarksville” got things under way (Micky Dolenz sings that one), Nesmith took the mic for quite a handful of tunes: “Papa Gene’s Blues” (an early country-ish outing; Nes was a pioneer of what came to be known as country rock), “The Kind of Girl I Could Love,” “Sweet Young Thing,” “You Told Me,” “Sunny Girlfriend” and more. Fans hadn’t gotten to hear these songs performed live, for the most part; with Davy’s stuff out, with rare exceptions, the set could be reconfigured to accommodate Nesmith’s many fine compositions. If Nes didn’t move much on stage, however, the same can’t be said of the amazing Mister Dolenz, dressed sharp in gray hat and suit, and always ready for his closeup. Dolenz is acknowledged as the finest singer in the band, and he is a consummate entertainer, involving the audience, shimmying from one side of the stage to the next, and belting out classics like “I’m a Believer,” “She” and the utterly peerless “Goin’ Down” with dedication and real joy. He’s clearly happy to be doing this, all these years later, and he always hits those high notes, sometimes to shivery effect. On “Shades of Gray,” a tender ballad where Dolenz shares the vocal duties with Peter Tork, he wryly grabbed a tuft of Peter Tork’s hair as the “shades of gray” chorus came up for the third time; not everyone saw this, but it was a more subtle brand of goofiness than what we’ve seen before.

The Monkees, circa 2013 (Micky Dolenz, Michael Nesmith, Peter Tork) (ncredited photo) — The Monkees, circa 2013 (Micky Dolenz, Michael Nesmith, Peter Tork) (uncredited photo)

And speaking of Tork, fans were NOT cheated out of seeing him in the spotlight; there was “Your Auntie Grizelda” (a weird song, even now), “For Pete’s Sake” (which featured Tork introducing the song with a speech about how badly the group wanted to make and play on their own records in the ’60s; Tork declared that the band “were guilty only of NOT being the Beatles, also true of 6 billion other people”), and a rousing “Can You Dig It,” among others. Hits such as “I’m A Believer” and “ …Steppin’ Stone” naturally thrilled the audience, but in terms of musical ecstasy, it was the tunes from HEAD that delivered the biggest impact. “The Porpoise Song” was transcendent, preceded by clips from the infamous film, then easing into a thrilling Dolenz vocal and all the psychedelic layering a fan could reasonably expect. What Monkees fan doesn’t get a shiver from that “Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye” refrain? Even better was “As We Go Along,” a truly beautiful song featuring clips of band members wandering through serene landscapes and Dolenz nailing the vocal to the wall in a perfect sonic picture frame. Fun fact: this tune in its recorded version is one of four the Monkees recorded with a young Neil Young adding guitar to the sessions. “Circle Sky” was a chance for Nesmith to rock out more than usual, but I thought he was even better on “The Door Into Summer” and the classic “What Am I Doing Hangin’ ‘Round”. The band wanted a big, well-adorned sound for this show: on “Mary, Mary,” four pairs of shakers were utilized by the added musicians on the tour (an ensemble that included Micky’s sister Coco and Nesmith’s son Christian). Female harmonies insured a properly lush vocal sound when needed, and though Mickey played drums fairly often, most of the percussive duties fell to a second drummer that was added.

The Monkees (Michael Nesmith, Micky Dolenz and Peter Tork with the late Davy Jones on screen behind) (photo credit: JEFF DALY/THE ASSOCIATED PRESS)

Some other highlights included a vibrant “Randy Scouse Git,” the Jones gem “Daydream Believer,” in which, touchingly, all three remaining Monkees took a verse (encouraging the audience to belt out the chorus), and a poignant clip of Jones effectively punctuated the tune, and the closing encore of “Listen to the Band” and “Pleasant Valley Sunday.” I was disappointed that “Tapioca Tundra,” while played, seemed to get short shrift in the arrangement department; it sounded tossed off here and lost the eerie melancholy of the original. Some of the vocals here and there were also hard to understand (Tork didn’t always intone his lyrics clearly), and the sound was almost subdued at times. It wouldn’t have killed the band to turn things up here and there and just madly rock. But professional? Yes indeed. Musically diverse? Check. Generous with serving up both hits and deep album cuts? You betcha. There’s no doubt that Mike Nesmith added a whole new dimension to this version of the Monkees onstage, and he’s a crucial balance to the madcap antics that sometimes went overboard in the past. There’s also no doubt that Micky Dolenz is an amazing singer and the real focal point of this band. He just IS. A real BAND was on stage at the Fox Theatre, playing and singing their hearts out, and offering more classics than most bands have in their entire repertoire. How amazing that the Monkees can still surprise after all these years. They’re the old generation. And they got something to say!

DO THE ARCHITECTURAL WATUSI Live Music Reviews | Kevin Renick | June 6, 2014 | Classic Rock Classic Television Country Rock Davy Jones Live Music Michael Nesmith Micky Dolenz Music Peter Tork Pop Music Psychedelic Rock Saint Louis The Fox Theatre The Monkees

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