It
certainly has been the winter of my discontent so far: slim pickins for shows.
I’m getting a little stir crazy.
The
last month was peppered with a few musical highlights. Jazz chanteuse Jane Monheit warbled in front of two
sold-out crowds and in front of a killer band whose drummer (Monheit’s ball and
chain) drove the whole operation with a delicious bompa chic. The gal can really, really sing and exuded plenty of
energy and emotion — I especially liked her “I shoulda had a V-8” slaps to
the forehead.
But
enough of this great American songbook crap. It’s been done… and done… and done.
Monheit’s enough of a talent to pen her own gems. I know she can. OK, so maybe
the Joni Mitchell cover threw me off a little, and that was pretty cool.
The
following Tuesday at Milestones and it was Wammo.
Have no fear, Hunter’s dead, but Wammo’s here. This Austin, Texas (moving to
Iron City), beatnik raged, blew his harp, recited, incited, cracked wise, and
cracked up all over the Milestones stage. The man is a genius plain and simple
and he apologizes for nothing. Next time I want to know anything, I’m not gonna
Google it, I’m gonna Wammo it.
And
of course Cincinnati’s (where they put cinnamon in their chili) The Shams rocked powerfully,
methodically, and mid-tempo another Saturday night at the Bug Jar, but had a
hard time after The Lost Marbles mopped the stage with everyone. Even with the girlfriend cheering-section
wreaking havoc up front, this new addition to Rochester’s garage scene (who
says there’re too many garage bands?) rocked. A must see.
Recently
got to plumb the depths of my shallow cool and sing “A Different Bob” with The Margaret Explosion as part of a
Colorblind James tribute album that’s in the works.
Taking
a break from my recent 35mm skin quest, I caught Jim Bianco & His Band at The Derby in Hollywood. The
comparisons I’d heard folks make to Tom Waits and Nick Cave weren’t far off as
I heard Bianco bark throaty lyrics like “My Goodness, spaghetti straps on a
marinara dress” amidst a lazy shag of trumpet, saxophone, accordion, guitar,
and piano. He’ll be in NYC this spring and I’ll try and talk him into heading a
little west for a day or two and give us what for.
Got
to dig The Ramones movie, End Of The
Century, in glorious surround sound in Dick The Dancing Record’s lair. Saw
it again at the Little Theatre where they should’ve blasted the sound a whole
lot louder as far as I’m concerned. It was great flick with an underlying
sadness and finality: It’s really over.
I’ve
been catching The White Hots on a regular basis now to ease my winter blues.
Harp honker Tom Hanney makes it look so easy. And since he’s willing to
surrender some trade secrets, it’s only gonna get easier. This could be the
cough medicine talking, but I think someone should start a harmonica marching
band.
Anyway,
Hanney’s tip this week: An echo harmonica can sound like an accordion, letting
players play some of the coolest music ever — zydeco and polkas.
Social Distortion‘s
Mike Ness lost his voice so last weekend’s Niagara Falls show was 86’d, leaving
The Backyard Babies with nowhere to
go. So folks around here scrambled, got them a gig at The Bug Jar; they drove
down and then decided the stage was too small. Too small?! I mean Jucifer’s
stuff fit, for chrissakes.
Buffalo’s
The Juliet Dagger fit on the stage
no problem. I caught the band’s last two tunes, where the drummer threatened to
bulldoze the other two in the group with his speed. A new and improved Bee Eater closed the night and sounded
the best I’ve ever heard them. The new guitar player is a monster. And yes I am partial to cats in cowboy shirts
who sling archtops, but the guy has got some serious bang in his repertoire.
I’ve
always dug the late Joe Williams big
time, especially when he belted in front of Count Basie (whose band is coming
to town April 11) but had never heard him subdued in more of a jazz context. Havin’
A Good Time is a new disc showcasing Williams with sax legend Ben Webster live at a Rhode Island
nightclub in 1964. Williams’ big baritone is suave and soothing in this casual
setting, while Webster’s big horn blows wide and mellow. You can hear the man
breathing life into each note.
Havin’ A Good Time is
graceful and elegant but still maintains a certain raw vitality that bristles
and swings on tunes like “Kansas City Blues” and Fat’s Waller’s “Ain’t
Misbehavin.” These two legends remind us that jazz and blues aren’t as
different as we think. Come to think of it, neither are we.
This article appears in Feb 23 – Mar 1, 2005.
