Blast furnace fever
New
York City’s The Slackers are my favorite ska band. They rock steady without
succumbing to the acne-pocked skate-punk homogenization so many ska bands adopt
in feeble attempts to get laid. Their packed Milestones show was energetic,
with a positive, palpable energy. It was a night full of music, including
openers Amy Ryan and The Operatives, who served up a fresh, solid set; Doc
Norris, who grooved light-heartedly without getting too weighty; and The
Blackouts, who offered a tight, no-pretense set featuring a guitar player that
f***ing shredded whenever they would let him.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Standing before a Berlin Wall of
Marshall amps and decked out in a shirt that was part Woodstock, part Wayne
Newton, Leslie West brought Mountain roaring into the 21st century — and into
the ears of roughly 150 eager souls — at Water Street Music Hall. The guitar
tone was a little thin, despite its deafening volume. West can still play slick
and vicious (though he plays one of those suspicious-looking, headstock-less
guitar) and he sings with a remarkably powerful and soulful voice. Original
drummer Corky Laing clowned around behind the kit, launching sticks off his
ride cymbal like SCUDs in an attempt to blind the ageing diehards in front.
Bassist Ritchie Scarlett rocked cool and classic with a pseudo-tight,
black-eyeliner-ed come on.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย And now for something completely
different. Maria Muldaur is sweet seduction set to music. With the supple
support of her minimalist band, Muldaur cooed, crooned, and warbled with a laid
back, post-coital-type bliss. The fine folks at The Montage no doubt went
through a lot of ice and saved some coin on their utility bill that night, as
Muldaur heated up the joint like a blast furnace with a fever. I could have
roasted marshmallows of the PA speakers.
—
Frank De Blase
This article appears in Apr 2-8, 2003.
