18Feb20
A residency twofer on resideNYC night…
Michael Daves & Andy Statman @ Rockwood Music Hall
It’s no secret I am enamored with the NYC musical residencies. I love both the actual residencies, because, like, if you’ve got a long-running regular gig in NYC, it’s more or less fact that you’re pretty good, there are just too many amazing musicians making awesome music to half-ass it every week and expect anyone to come see you play. So, like the music is going to be good no matter what. But there are also all these other amazing facets to them that elevate the whole concept. I’ve detailed a few of these facets over the years, but something stuck out to me Tuesday night as I hit two of these: there is an interesting paradox with the residency show — by repeating the same “gig” over and over, weekly or monthly, they actually become more varied and different than (most) other acts. To keep things interesting, week in and week out, these constant gigs have more variety than they would otherwise. Kind of cool.
So, you have Michael Daves playing every damn Tuesday at Rockwood Music Hall and sometimes it’s a similar set to one you’ve seen him do before, but usually it’s totally different. Tuesday’s set felt different. He was joined by Andy Statman on mandolin and the room was more crowded and lively than usual (partly because the goddamn resideNYC crew was in force; partly because, possibly, Rockwood is celebrating its 15th anniversary this month; and partly, possibly, because Statman was a featured guest). The room, the crowd, the guests, and Daves just brought the magic from the get-go. The opening stretch of the set felt like it was a tape running at a slightly too-fast speed, Statman was just electrifying on the mandolin, blazing, blazing fast playing and Daves was sort of staring at him bug-eyed trying to keep up. It had a very try-to-keep-up around-the-campfire jam session feel, quickly choosing a song and diving right into it. The audience was into it from the start, plenty of whooping and some dancing, every solo drawing a cheer, the more death-defying ones even more so. I’ve been in that room when it’s been empty save for 5–10 people and half of them are more interested in talking to themselves than the music and so the energy in the room this week was appreciated, by me, sure, but by Daves for sure. They did a bunch of standards, Daves’ voice sounding perfect in the room as well as a few Statman instrumental originals. I don’t think I’ve seen Statman play so well before, so loose and energized, just going the fuck off. I don’t know why that is, he’s always impressive, he’s great with his trio, he’s great guesting with others, but somehow he was bluegrass-fireworks-display every damn solo he took. Daves rose to the occasion, taking way more solos than I usually see him do and showing why he should probably take more… he’s a damn good picker himself. Kind of amazing that you can catch such high-level bluegrass in NYC. That you can do it weekly for a few bucks in the bucket in a room as intimate and perfect as Rockwood Stage 1, all the more remarkable. Here’s to many more years of Michael Daves (and occasionally friend) @ Rockwood…
Subtonics @ Letlove Inn (late set)
I am now, more or less, going out Tuesdays for the mere purpose of ending my nights in Astoria. Weird but true. If Daves played the best set I’ve seen him do at Rockwood, it may be that the Subtonics played the best set I’ve seen them do at Letlove Inn. I don’t know, maybe that’s not true, but it definitely felt that way. The set unfolded much the way last week’s did, Costas sitting, playing not-quite-solo in a little self-loop, working a chord or two over and over until next thing you know, it had slowly morphed into something different, bigger, greater. The room started out kind of empty, but a bunch of our gang and others filled in once the music started and the band shifted its tempo to match the crowd. A moment when the drums clicked into a more dancey groove signaled the start of the real festivities. A stretch that began when a second sax player joined was some of the best improv of the year in any borough. Something just lit a fire under this already-smoldering band and holyshit did they find some extradimensional craziness. True full-band jamming of the highest order, like arena-ready exploration, themes passed between each member, the shit when you can’t tell who’s passing the ball and who’s receiving it.
Having now seen the Subtonics, in some form, play 5 times already this year, I have discerned no pattern or design to this gig, no repeating geometries or identifiable week-to-week trends. It’s as if each week starts completely afresh and it’s refreshing as fuck. There’s nothing else going on in the city quite like this. Continually astounded. See you there next Tuesday.
19Feb20
Bill Frisell, Thomas Morgan, Kenny Wolleson @ Blue Note
Remember that line in Shawshank Redemption? Easiest time I ever did. That was Andy Dufresne talking about his latest stint in solitary confinement. It was the thought of music that got him through it. Now, I’m not saying that the Blue Note is comparable to the hole, but I’m also not not saying it. And, thankfully, I didn’t have to remember or think about the music, I actually got to listen to it, live and in the flesh. But otherwise, yes, same thing. Bill Frisell is just about the reason I’d venture to the hellhole that is the Blue Note and even though I had to wring my neck like an owl for 80 minutes, even though every one of my joints seemed to be touching something else, whether it was a table or chair or the person in front, next to or behind me, even though it’s a miserable fucking place that no one should have to endure in their quest for musical bliss, I do not regret a second of it. Bill Frisell playing the Marriage of Figaro to my solitary’d Dufresne. Easiest time I ever did.
Tonight he was playing in trio form with longtime mates Thomas Morgan and Kenny Wolleson. I cannot say for sure that I’ve seen this exact trio before, typically it’s Wolleson/Scherr and Morgan in duo or Morgan/Royston in trio. It didn’t really matter though… on this night, it really was all about Frisell, the other two really playing a very-backseat supporting role. As seems to increasingly be the case the last few times I’ve seen him, the set was one entire string of songs, no stops in between, each piece segueing into the next. It was those in-betweens where the magic was happening, where the outros became intros was like some purgatory that exists between different versions of heaven… just heaven into heaven into heavens all the way down. Each song as it ended/began felt like watching a video in reverse, a glass going from shattered on the ground up to fully intact up on the table, entropy reversed, a trick of the senses. I wish I was better at song titles, but the set featured many Frisell “favorites,” standards, covers and originals, strung together in seemingly ad hoc manner, Bill feeling one piece or another, folding up the musical origami into one song and then unfolding and refolding into the next on whatever passed for a whim in BF’s head. The rhythm section, in their full knowledge of these whims, knowing them, anticipating them, subconsciously probably knowing before Bill even knew, had zero problem staying with him.
We got nearly all the flavors of Frisell, too. There was quiet whisper Frisell, there was loop collage Frisell, there was jazz standard Frisell, there was inventive Americana Frisell, there was surprisingly funky Frisell, there was improv genius Frisell and so on. During one interstitial jam, I was pretty sure he was vamping on some In A Silent Way Miles themes — I don’t know I’ve ever heard him do anything like that — and then carried that birth-of-fusion vibe into the following tune, in rather electric fashion. That was some wow shit. The latter half of the set featured personal favorites like his I-own-these-now covers of “What the World Needs Now” (gorgeous AF) and “You Only Live Twice” (sounded like he was playing two melodies simultaneously in such only-Bill-Frisell-can-do-this F yeah! amazement) and, I believe, “Hard Times Come Again No More,” all strung together in much make-Neddy-go-wow delight. Like I said, Morgan and Wolleson kind of felt like they were hanging back, emotional support for the tear-jerkers Frisell was laying down on us. Every once in a while, TM would take a “solo,” by which he would take the lead for a few measures. What was cool was how BF kept playing, lower, juicing these moments to their potential, hugs and kissed from Uncle Bill.
Good lord, I love Bill Frisell. Such a great show. But still, fuck you Blue Note.
Endless Boogie @ Max Fish
I have an overnight volunteer thing (which allows me to catch up on my reviews), so I couldn’t stay out too late, but also had some time to kill, so, being on the way home (for real!), stopped by a moderately packed Max Fish for some heady jams. Caught the last 10 minutes or so of the opener, of which I need to find the name. Experimental kind of rock shit, just this side of too weird, I really enjoyed their sound. Violin drones and guitar twinkling and, was that a barely-recognizable Nirvana cover to end their set? I think it was.
Endless Boogie just makes me think of the term choogle every time I see or hear them. Just a constant churn of electric guitars on top of a steady chug-a-lug of rhythm. It’s not quite jamming, but man, it’s fucking jammin! Listening to them tonight, filling a too-small space with 3 guitars, each somehow finding its own part of the sonic spectrum to add some chunky grit to the boogie-down mud they were mixing, I found the music to be almost fractal. Like you could stretch any 5 second stretch of it into 5 minutes and it would somehow sound the same and vice versa. That was some good shit. Sorry I couldn’t stay until the end, but the 25–30 minutes I caught could easily have been 3 hours or 3 minutes and it probably would have had the same effect. They’re playing again Thursday, they went on at 10:20 or so, you should check the out before/after whatever it is you’re planning on doing Thursday night. Krantz is still out of town, so…
23Feb20 Joe Russo’s Almost Dead (Chris Harford opened) @ Capitol Theatre
Sometimes it’s nice to go to a show by yourself, sometimes it’s fun to go with a friend or two, and sometimes it’s nice to go to a show where you know you’re going to bump into a zillion people you know. And in that latter case, you know you’re going to run into certain people, no matter what, but you also know there will be some friends you’re not expecting to see, maybe end up spending extended time with someone you didn’t think you would. That’s more or less the situation when I go see JRAD at the Cap. That’s also an apt description of the music at any given JRAD show and definitely was the case on Sunday night. Yes, I broke down, headed up to Port Chester and caught myself another JRAD show…
Let’s just get this out of the way, this was not my favorite Joe Russo’s Almost Dead show. I found the show, more or less both sets, to be disjointed, lacking in flow and the jamming to be less than the high level of stellarness that has earned the band immediate-three-night-sell-out status at rooms like the Capitol Theatre. Not that I’m seeing a lot of JRAD these days, but when I do, I kind of get the feeling like these shows are little challenges. They challenge themselves in weird ways — can we make a Help > Mystery Train > So Many Roads sound compelling, interesting, awesome? — and they challenge the audience — will they stick with us regardless of what ridiculousness we throw at them? Taken from a high view, the setlist last night was mondo ridulouso, which doesn’t really mean much about the show itself, but still… it does feel like they’re just throwing dice sometimes and seeing what they can do with what fate hands them. Good for them, I guess.
I thought the opening Catfish John was cool. Early on I felt a lot of love from Marco, who seemed to carry a lot of the more interesting parts of the first set. As things went on, though, I remembered all the things that occasionally annoy me about JRAD, namely the fact that the most interesting musician on stage is relegated to a supporting role and the least interesting musician on stage is elevated to a starring role. Despite a few interesting solos, I found Metzger to be wholly disinterested and disengaged from the music last night, which is a shame. Hamilton, on the other hand, was ham’ng(TM) it up at every stretch, giving us a slightly different version of the same solo over and over. Alright, alright, I get it. Anyone that’s read any thing I’ve written about this band over the past few years knows how I feel about the leftmost guitar player in this band, but last night was just more, more, more, and it just sucks all that’s interesting about this band out in one melodramatic guitar solo after another. Too bad. I felt last night like he was this giant Saint Bernard who doesn’t realize how big he is, just bounding this way and that, knocking shit over without a care in the world. Scott would finally grab a hold of something interesting and within 30 second, Tom would be bounding over, grabbing the toy and taking it for himself. Once you notice it, it’s hard not to, and it turns what can be a transcendent band that takes the Dead canon and makes it their own in wholly unique ways and turns them into a Dead cover band. A damn good one, don’t get me wrong, but…
Doesn’t feel worthy of a setlist blow-by-blow to me, honestly, so much of it was regrettably forgettable, but the second-set opening Romeo & Juliet featured one of the more inspired jams of the night, there was a cool Duo jam in there (apparently on “Vortex,” confirmed by Russo) that was probably my favorite part of the night, but I’m old school like that, I liked the way Metzger scrambled “Loser” inside the “Let It Grow” jam, was less enamored with Hamilton’s forced-hand take on Phish’s “First Tube wherever that popped up. By now you’re likely aware of Jimmy Fallon coming out for the encore, more or less overshadowing, alas, Chris Harford’s opportunity to rip up Neil Young’s “Fuckin’ Up.” Fallon did an asshole’s version of JRAD, mixing in teases of random covers at his own whim, the band good enough to keep up. All in all a bizarre way to end a rather bizarre show on a night that felt slightly surreal to begin with, up to and including car-ride conversations both there and back. In the end, this will always be the JRAD show that Jimmy Fallon put his mark on, and that seems fitting. I’ll leave it at that.
The highlight of the night may have been the predictably-chatted-over opening set from Harford in Garcia’s. He was joined by Dave Dreiwitz in a perfect duet pairing. Harford can go deep rockin’ and he can go solo acoustic touching and he can go weirdo and all points in between. With Dreiwitz as his foil, there was a really nice balance, Harford’s voice was as good as ever, there were some nice little extended dalliances and I thought the cover choices were excellent, with a fantastic take on Gillian Welch’s “Everything is Free” — I don’t think I’ve ever heard Chris sing that before, but what a great choice; and the “Naive Melody” had an extra soft plush to it with Dave’s bass. I thought it was a great opening set, taken right up to the last moment before Dave had to leave to take the main stage.
