Live Music Log, August 2018

Hi.  I'm a guy who goes to shows in west Michigan and then writes about them.  These are my dim recollections.

8 3 18 May Erlewine #12  The Livery, Benton Harbor  Very different atmosphere from the chill, sparsely attended Lipstick Jodi show:  for this ticketed event, they held us at the bottom of the stairs till 30 minutes before showtime.  A woman who looked like the actress Ashley Williams but on OxyContin was not having it;  she cut in front of swaths of people, loudly declaring she wasn’t missing out on a good table after waiting in the beer garden for an hour.  She later apologized for her behavior by buying me a drink and asking me for weed. Once inside, it was a great, chilled out show, trio with Max Lockwood and Julian Allen, pitched midway between a Mother Lion meditation and a Motivations hootenanny.  I met a man named Danny, who was flabbergasted by Julian’s beatboxing on the oldie Mama Said. Never One Thing rang from the rafters, Letter To The President needs to be out there more widely, and the surprise cover of the night was Dancing In The Dark! Another highlight was one of May’s oldest songs, about fishing from the fish’s perspective and the impact on his family. She is so insanely beautiful that I find myself closing my eyes through most of her shows so I can concentrate on the sound and the meaning. Not quite full garden gnome yet.  Gotta work on that.

8 4 18  Olivia Mainville #22 (with Brandon James)  Tripelroot, Zeeland  I was the audience, for all intents and purposes, the only person here specifically to see the musicians.  Zeeland is strange, but the gig pays, so I made requests all night and marveled at the new material from both of them that has yet to see the recorded light of day.  I am relishing these shows, because these two, and their respective bands, will not be this unfamous for much longer.  And they seem to like having me around.

8 10 18  Red Rio #3/STOVEPIPE STOVER  House show, Grand Rapids  It’s a damn shame that Lilith Fair didn’t live on, because Alexis Brooke/Red Rio would fit right in.  Tough yet sensitive, pensive and defiant, fifteen years too late.  A standout was a song called Jane (I think), but throughout everything her ripped velvet voice and battered acoustic produced were excellent.  Justin Stover, the man who is Stovepipe, is a gruff, bluff, hearty dude with a strong line in comedy horror songs, but can also make you cry (or me anyway, a fellow sad bastard).  Demons were exorcised in that dim living room.  “She laughs like angels waiting in your bedroom.”  STAB.

8 11 18  THE BARLEY SAINTS Cellar Brewing, Sparta         TIMMY THE TEETH/Morgan Haner and the Transmitters #3  Founders, Grand Rapids  I miss the Saltbound, my old friend Colin’s Irish band, so when I found out he was temping in another band I came up to a wee Irish festival in Sparta to check it out.  He was a hired gun, played no songs of his own, but it was high fun and talent galore on display, with the hale n hearty leader pouring out energy and a wee lass on violin.  Got to catch up with Colin’s wife Kaity too, nice to see people who knew me when I was married, seems like a decade ago.  From there, down into the city for Morgan’s alt country, with most of Big Dudee Roo backing him up. (NATE NATE NATE) It has recently come to light that Founders is not such a friendly place for all the people who work there, which is a damn shame because the community feeling at shows is so palpable.  (Right down to the crowd noise.)  Morgan, an employee, played his damn heart out and we responded in kind.  Timmy The Teeth was a long bearded dude from Utah, with just a supremely talented guitarist as accompaniment.  Two guitars, no drums, wild woolly tales of love and woe.  It’s alt-country if I like it, so this is alt-country.  Like Level:  bought the album, haven’t listened to it yet.

8 16 18 May Erlewine #13 Grand Rapids Art Museum, Grand Rapids        JORDAN HAMILTON/Emilee Petersmark #2 Harmony Hall, Grand Rapids       The Go Rounds #4  Founders, Grand Rapids  Triple Show Thursday, made possible only by taking time off for Hoxeyville.  I miss sooo many shows because of my night job, but I know myself:  I can NOT get up in the morning with an alarm. For May, set up on the concrete yet pleasant patio in front of the Art Museum facing Rosa Parks Circle, I was absurdly early to the point of conspicuousness.  I know Max a little, but not anyone else in the band (May is by far the act I’ve seen the most without actually becoming friends) (not that there’s anything wrong with that), so I felt Sore Thumb Adjacent till Dan and Carlton showed up. It was a lovely set, not especially different from other recent outings, other than the woman who loudly demanded a microphone for her child to sing along on, who came dangerously close to derailing the show before wandering off muttering. May is by all accounts the sweetest most generous soul you could meet, but she is not going to turn over expensive audio equipment to a toddler. From here:  off to the west side for an ultra rare Solo Petersmark sighting, there to support modern cellist/singer/rapper Jordan Hamilton.  Jordan is also part of the Last Gasp Collective, has been touring with Seth Bernard, and teaches music, Darcy’s son being among his pupils.  He is very impressive…but very reliant on machines for samples and bleep bloops, which had a tendency to take over.  I confess to enjoying Last Gasp more because of its collaborative nature; his playing, which has such swooping emotional nuance on classical workouts, is not quite there yet on his originals.  But he is young, cocky, and insanely talented, so watch out for him. Jordan opened and closed the set, with Emilee in the middle, playing all unreleased originals, no Crane Wives content, oh my lanta it was all so good.  Special mention to a song possibly called When The Sun Comes Up, a tired yet somehow dazzling lament about how one damn bad day just follows another here in Trump Land. From here, over to Founders:  sadly missed Lipstick Jodi’s opening set, but peer pressure kept me from leaving Jordan’s second set. The Go Rounds were on good form tonight:  headed for outer space, but kindly providing some handholds on the rocket fuselage.  Tunes were tethered to reality.  I miss the older, sweeter melodies, but I know of no band this weird that gets people up and dancing every time.  Nilsson’s Jump Into The Fire, wisely, is still retained for a fiery encore. Masterful playing, good times had.  Thank you, Grand Rapids.

8 17-19 18  HOXEYVILLE MUSIC FESTIVAL:  Lindsay Lou #6/WINNOW/STEPPIN IN IT/THE INFAMOUS STRINGDUSTERS/DAWES/Jen Sygit #2/Whistle Stop Revue #2/BREATHE OWL BREATHE/GRANNY DEVITO/BIGFOOT BUFFALO/RICHIE & ROSIE/The Insiders #2/The Crane Wives #53/The Sweet Water Warblers #2/AIRBORNE OR AQUATIC?  I bought my wristband for this year right after last year.  Had it shipped early.  Then, as I got within 40 miles of the festival site, I realized I left it on the kitchen table back home.  Mad rush back south, uncle met me in Coopersville with it, zoomed back north in time for about half of Lindsay Lou’s opening set in the postrain muggy air.  Walked in to the sweet strains of “Southland,” in fact, with the other Sweet Water Warblers on harmonies, a decent omen.  Mark Lavengood was with them, like a birthday candle that won’t blow out, adding that sweet dobro to the alt-bluegrass goodness.  Great new songs:  In A Good Place Now, Keep On Goin’, I Wish You Well:  some tellingly positive titles there.  From there, over to the smaller tent stage for Winnow, formerly Watching For Foxes.  Some friends are vocal non-fans:  I thought they were pleasant local Americana.  Especially early on:  lightning strikes kept the power off a while, so they started their set acoustic/acapella, with some sweet harmonies.  Less interesting plugged in, kinda eaten alive by hired-gun rhythm section.  Steppin In It:  the band that spawned Joshua Davis was a more nuanced take on much the same sound, about a third corporate to two thirds organic.  Blargh to the fake Southern accent, yay to the horn section. Tailor made for NPR in 2005.  Killer organ, nice renditions of The Band’s Tears of Rage and Waits’ Jockey Full Of Bourbon.  The Infamous Stringdusters:  knee slapping good timey bluegrass, only about a quarter corporate. Now That’s What I Call Bluegrass!  Greensky Methadone!  (Unkind jokes, I know, the music was fun.) Dawes, the national headlining act, closed out Friday night, and they were…okay.  Again, some friends of mine hate on them hard, at first it was hard to see why:  road tight rock band, catchy melodies, absolute monster of a drummer.  But then the samey borderline-misogynistic tunes started piling up.  What if Harry Chapin turned up to nine?  The crowd dispersed in the cold.  Not camping at this one, three friends and I rented a cabin at a nearby campground with hilarious coin-operated hot showers.

Saturday started swimmingly with the sweet strains of Sygit, Jen Sygit.  Full band suits her songs really well, compared to the swell but sleepy house show in April.  Band full of ringers:  Luke Winslow-King, Drew Howard, Mike Lynch, and she bosses em around good. Unexpectedly rockin’ earth-mother fun. There was an adorable moppet spinning and spinning during the music, turned out to the daughter of collaborator Laura Bates. Highlights:  Smell The Flowers, Pay For What You Get, and One In A Million, on which banjo somehow sounded badass. The Whistle Stop Revue made more impression on me electric last year than acoustic this year:  it’s funny, even to me, how the rules keep changing in my head.  Sweet vs. rockin’, authentic vs. gritty: I am a capricious bitch. Breathe Owl Breathe are fun lil hipsters with a Pied Piper act (that’s what my notes say, no idea what I meant two months ago).  Then, Granny Devito was a thing that happened.  Seth Bernard and Scott Pellegrom (a wizard drummer from Grand Haven) mounted the stage without a word, spun a swirling maelstrom of free form jazzishness, farting around with positive vibes, power and precision but with the optometrist’s device turned to blurry. Pellegrom put objects on his drum heads to roll around making additional artful noises; I wrote big on my notepad STEAL THIS IDEA and held it up to Dan Rickabus. Then thepair skedaddled, without a word.  Seth does love his side acts. Bigfoot Buffalo:  competent generic American boogie with fun organ.  This kind of music, when played by the young, has been hounded off radio and takes refuge on the festival circuit.  The Doobie Brothers live on in spirit. Saturday Festival Exhaustion kept me from seeing Leftover Salmonl  my friend Stefany and I went to get food that wasn’t from a food truck, then collapsed in our cabin.

Sunday was the day I lived through the others to get to.  I spent the whole day stageside, thanks to Judy. Started low key with Richie and Rosie, a male/female folk duo from Ithaca, NY, on banjo and violin, who were super pleasant but so obscure I can’t find them on YouTube. I’ve Endured stood out as an uptempo survival anthem. The Insiders:  a murderers’ row of killer local players, all in black, helping Max Lockwood fulfill his genetic destiny as a tribute to Tom Petty. Emilee guest vocalled on several tracks, most effectively on Breakdown. Eric O’Daly sang a fine version of Nightwatchman. Phil Barry did Honey Bee MOAR PHIL. There was a reasonable proportion of cowbell throughout.  We were all grinning like idiots. Up next:  The Crane Wives. Big, confident sound in front of the biggest crowd I think they faced all year.  But the benches around me side-stage emptied after the Insiders: are they old news to fellow musicians?  Hard to believe, as Here I Am sounded massive and defiant.  Steady, Steady was pulled out of the vault to leave me in a personal puddle of FEELINGS.  The Sweet Water Warblers were out next, in pastel dresses and serene dispositions, the rare female vocal trio that requires no backup musicians at all.  This sound is where summer resides. Highlights:  Sweet Days and new Lindsay song Easy On Your Mind, as well as Rachael Davis’s standup comedy timing.  This festival is not so much for the rock, but Airborne or Aquatic throws off the curve with massive prog rock bombast.  Seth Bernard, Dan Rickabus, and company brought the riffs, and the big Moog, and the big big drums, to send me smiling on my way home.  (I skipped Billy Strings, yet again, to get home to my dog.  Someday I will see that dude play.)  Thanks to everyone who helped make it a great festival with their friendly presence.  The peaks weren’t as peaky as the previous year, but not sleeping on the ground does wonders for one’s disposition.

8 25 18 Hollywood Makeout #4  The Livery, Benton Harbor  This is the most exciting band in Grand Rapids to me, and it’s led by a kindergarten teacher and an MRI tech.  The Livery is a great room, but it is a small room, and the monster sound these guys make pinned the patrons against the wall.  Not for everyone, but it sure is for me.  Flayed Alive By Melody.  Several great new songs, further broadening the outlook beyond “Blondie plays the Strokes at double speed.”

8 31 18 The Crane Wives #54  Rockford Brewing Company, Rockford With this show, I have seen them as many times as they have officially released songs.  Nuts.  This was still a special one, with a thoughtful set list, a patented Dan bear hug, and a welcome run in with two friends from Married Life Days. Not much detail, too busy enjoying two hours of my life to take notes.  As always, to Kate, Em, Dan and Ben:  thank you for the music that helped me turn my life into something worth moving through again.