A Secret No More

It was the early show on a Wednesday night at the Mercury Lounge. April Smith and the Great Picture Show were back home after an adventure-filled tour, playing to a room filled past capacity.

This is a band with gigs lined up at SXSW. This is a band with a song that was featured on NPR.org’s “Song of the Day”. This is a band branded as “One of 30 Bands to Watch” at Lollapalooza by Rolling Stone. With all of these accolades, you may be wondering a few things about these Brooklynites: Where have they been hiding? How have I missed them? And where are they headed?

The band’s stylistic choice of suits, ties and fedoras compliments the swinging nature of their music, a throwback to days when cigarette smoke hovered everywhere and things looked better in black and white. Smith is notorious for flamboyant dresses with short ruffled skirts, but don’t be fooled by her coquettish wardrobe, her pixie cut bangs or her dimples. This little lady is a rockstar and boasts a voice you will not believe.

The band’s music has an alluring balance and use of minor notes, crescendos and staccato rhythms. Likewise, Smith colors her vocals with an occasional cry or slide, and there is a strange Gwen Stefani-like shade to her sound at times, particularly in the haunting ballad, “Dixie Boy” (although I have no doubt that Smith could sing circles around Stefani).

The vibrant complexity of the songs is rounded out by Nick D'Agostino (like a contemporary mobster) on drums, Brandon Lowry on keys and accordion, Stevens on bass (both electric and upright) and Marty O’Kane on lead guitar and mandolin (played with uncanny vigor).

Halfway through the set, Smith declared: “I think it’s time to dance. I think a Charleston is in order.” And it was. Until, that is, Smith unleashed that extraordinary voice with its soaring resonance and effortless power, which instantly stopped you dead in your tracks, sending shivers up your spine.

At the end of the set, I overheard a man comment: She was on fire tonight! Which begged the question in my mind: When is she not? I have a feeling that any time April Smith performs, no matter how many times you’ve seen her, she leaves you thinking the same thing: Damn. Who is this girl and where did she come from?

Photo by Gavin Thomas from a show at the Bowery Ballroom

Tally Hall. Unplugged.

“I don’t know if this helps,” Zubin Sedghi offers as he tilts the microphone towards Rob Cantor’s guitar.

“Probably not, since I played that wrong anyway,” Cantor replies.

(It also didn’t help because the mike wasn’t on.)

Halfway through their set at Bowery Ballroom, the men of Michigan band Tally Hall announced from the stage that the next song would be their last. People checked their watches; this seemed very odd. Concurrently, a man with a trumpet began making his way from backstage through the crowd and up to the balcony. Also odd. Three minutes later, the congenial musicians were following the trumpeter’s lead, as a recorded voice played over the sound system, gently encouraging the audience to take a seat on the floor. (And don’t think too much about how dirty it may be.) Murmurs and giggles broke out and the crowd obeyed, eagerly and earnestly. Amidst all the excitement, the band began setting up shop on the ballroom floor.

Illuminated by an array of floor lamps, four men of Tally Hall, along with special late addition and stand-in, Casey Shea, began the second half of their set tucked under the balcony on the side of the Bowery Ballroom floor. They were unamplified, whether they knew it or not (my bet is they didn’t), which required a greater focus from the audience and also allowed for every individual voice to be heard floating around the now intimate feeling space. Unexpectedly, the rock concert suddenly turned into a sing-a-long (with an occasional trumpet blasting from above). The only thing missing was the campfire.

Those of us unfortunate ones who didn’t know the songs or the words had to strain to pick up the complexity of the compositions, but the creative ambience made our efforts more than worth it. It felt as if these guys had invited hundreds of us over to sit in their living room while they played some ditties they’d been working on. Despite the technical difficulties (or perhaps thanks to them), the performance was a novel and singular experience of the band's contagious music that will not be easily forgotten or replicated.

Photo courtesy of the band's Myspace

The Good Graces of Grace McLean

Reclining on pillows at the foot of a grand piano, being serenaded by the ever impulsive yet soothing, honeyed voice of Grace McLean is one of the more perfect ways to spend a winter’s Sunday afternoon.

On Sunday, February 7th, for a piece aptly titled “Living Room Experience”, McLean had turned a black box theater into a space so warm and comfortable, complete with paper lanterns strewn across the floor and a floor lamp by the piano, that it was redolent of being in a friend’s living room. The show was part of an ongoing singer/songwriter series called Music with a View at the Flea Theater in Tribeca. The event is defined as a “lab-like space” that is “dedicated to nurturing new works and to the free exchange of ideas, thoughts and opinions between artists and the audience”.

McLean capitalized on this idea of a relationship with the audience by encouraging her attentive crowd to join her in breath exercises during her self-imposed “Intermission”, as well as asking them to close their eyes to let the images of a song titled “The Dream” wash over their imaginations. She also invited the eager young men and women to share a secret with their neighbor before launching into her “Secret Song” and the room momentarily erupted in whispers and giggles reminiscent of a child’s sleepover.

Her rapidly percussive songs, delivered with the utmost vocal control and perfect diction, were accompanied by Justin Goldner on bass and Hiroyuki Matsuura on percussion. The instrumentation of her music is subtle; a gentle background to her dynamic voice and clever, story-driven lyrics.

“I’m in love with my friend’s roommate/ I hope that he’s not gay/ Keep in mind it wouldn’t be the first time affections have wandered that way”

The series was the perfect forum for an artist like McLean who is an innately charming performer with sharp comic timing and an ease that makes her irresistible. One song flowed swiftly into the next, introduced by witty remarks and closed promptly with a simple ‘Thank you’. Her show left you longing to recreate those feelings of peace and bliss at home in your own living room. It would surely be much easier if Ms. McLean could be a permanent fixture next to the sofa.

Photo courtesy of artists' myspace page

ban*ter |ˈbantər|

There are moments in most live musical sets that more or less require some sort of dialogue, or banter, on the part of the musicians. The smaller the setting, the closer the audience, the more necessary the banter seems. The truth is that this act of bantering is almost as much of an art as the music-playing itself and yet many musicians seem to lack the requisite skills.

The Banter is important because it effects the momentum of the set: it can either interrupt it or it can drive it forward. It could be said there are even musical elements to it: a harmonious balance, a cadence, a duration. The problem many musicians run into is a lack of intuition with this bantering. They may talk too much, or not enough; they may tell random stories from their day or their lives that come across as purely irrelevant; worst of all they may try to make jokes and fail. There’s probably a reason you are a musician and not a comedian, my friend (Although, for the record, Steve Martin in the company of his Banjo Band has the art of Banter DOWN).

All that being said, when musicians rock the art of the Banter, they stand a cut above the rest. They are suddenly performers, not simply music-makers.

A prime example can be found in the trio that is The Spring Standards: James, Heather and James. The most impressive part of their relationship, and consequently their banter, is that it feels genuinely collaborative. No one seems to be the ring leader and no one is trying to steal the spotlight. It is Banter, in the true sense of the word. It is playful, relaxed, endearing, completely comfortable yet totally unplanned. They finish each other’s sentences and make impromptu puns off of each other’s remarks, as well as off of comments from the audience. They are in tune with one another’s senses of humor and at the same time it is clear that they respect and enjoy each other.

As a result, we, the audience are charmed by these three incredibly talented musicians. A wall is broken down that separates them, the rock stars, from us, the civilians. Our hearts open and we trust them. We want to hear every word they say and every note they play. Which is lucky for us because The Spring Standards’ music (around the Banter) is even more enchanting than the banter itself (hence our reason for being at a music set and not an improv show).

So can an excellent musician be terrible at banter? Or can a band with sharp and witty banter play unappealing music? Most likely. But without some level of proficiency in both, they may never be truly great performers.

**Don't miss The Spring Standards in action again at Rockwood Music Hall on Tuesday February 9 at 8 pm**

Photo credit: Jeffrey Augustine Songco, from the band's Myspace

A New Obsession

Do yourself a favor: meet Pearl and the Beard (even if it's not in person for now). Listen to their music, be awe-inspired, fall in love. As one of the opening acts for Tiger City last night at Mercury Lounge, this trio was the very definition of a hard act to follow.

About half the crowd (and it sure was crowded) raised their hands to express that it was their first time seeing this gem of a band, consisting of Jocelyn Mackenzie, Jeremy Styles, and Emily Hope Price. The band is headed off on what they call the "Raise Your Glasses Tour" (as in eyeglasses, spectacles, if you will) and at its mention, they all, as if on cue, lifted their eyeglasses from their eyes. But not to worry, they will be back and playing here at home later in the fall (October 27th at Joe's Pub).

The Brooklyn-based band has a dynamic sound, layered with guitars, a cello, a variety of percussive elements (including hands and feet), an accordion, a glockenspiel, a melodica. Basically, you name it, these three play it. And on top it all they have composed beautiful harmonies, perfectly in sync, orchestrated with the precision of a concerto. Their talent is also apparent in the fact that one song sounds quite different from the next; from slow and languid ballads to poppy crowd-pleasers to crooning, passionate anthems. From a song featuring six or seven rotating instruments to one that was entirely vocals and percussion, building from claps and stomps to drums and shouts.

What makes these two girls and a guy a hard act to follow, in addition to just some great listening, is the overt sense of play they have together on stage. Their energy and passion is infectious and you only wish you could have as much fun doing your own work.

A few lines into one particular upbeat song, it became clear that they were covering the theme song to the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. Yes they were. It was a medley, in fact, with highlights from "Men in Black" and "Wild, Wild West" thrown in for good measure. It was a little bit of genius. Here it is: see for yourself.

Later, after some disclosure about playing a love song in a rock club, they launched into a new song (and welcomed suggestions for its title) which silenced the enthusiastic room. Only afterwards was it admitted that this was the first time they had ever played the song for anyone. And therefore, they said, comfort can be taken in knowing that it was the worst that the song will ever be played. Which sure bodes well for the future of the song. And the band, frankly.

Jenny Lewis Rocks Battery Park

"Saturday.  In the Park..." Jenny Lewis begins quietly; a gentle lullaby that is a striking change after an hour of her rocking and crooning at the River to River Festival.  But suddenly the hundreds of fans scattered throughout Battery Park know where the song is going,  as she continues a capella, "You'd think it was the Fourth of July..."  (Which it was.)

Jenny Lewis and her band seem to be the very definition of musicians.  They rotate instruments, demonstrating a range of skills that is far from common in their contemporaries.  Sure, Lewis is the lead singer and also plays the keys, plus the acoustic and electric guitars, but the other lady of the group, Barbara Gruska, for example, is equally impressive as a backup singer who also rocks on the drums and the harmonica.

The hour long set (as the opening act for their good friends, Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band) featured Lewis classics such as "Acid Tongue", "The Next Messiah" and Rilo Kiley's "Silver Lining" plus one or two new songs.  And of course, they pulled Conor Oberst out to join them on one song, at which point he and Lewis pressed their faces together to share the microphone center stage.  

The most impressive thing about Lewis and her band, aside from their obvious talent, is the way that they just make you want to be a musician.  They not only make it look cool and fashionable (Lewis in her typical tight, short shorts), but also, and more importantly, they make it look fun.  That accounts for the energy that rolls off the stage and floods the audience, even one as diverse and sprawling as that on the lawn at Battery Park.  They are, needless to say, excellent performers; just enjoying doing their thing, with nothing to prove.  

At the end of the set, as her piano notes reverberated over the pulsing drums, Lewis raised her American flag, then waved, simply and shyly, and turned and walked off the stage, leaving the two drummers to a solo showdown on the empty stage.  And somehow, her humility and grace made us all proud to be American.   

One Woman Who Draws A Crowd

Julia Weldon is one of those transparent performers who wears her heart on her sleeve.  Her lyrical songs speak beautifully to her unique sense of humor and perspective  ("I wanna write like Bobby Dylan and go to jail like Johnny Cash").  Even her guitar strumming seems dictated by her impulses, alternating between big and passionate and quiet and gentle. 

    Playing for the first time at Rockwood Music Hall on June 30th (to a full house despite her admitted fears that no one would show up), Weldon was candid about her nerves.  "I'm gonna forget some lyrics," she warned before one song, mid-set, "Just get ready for it."  

And yet there is something about her that is charming and comforting despite all nerves.  As an audience, you feel well taken care of.

It was a well thought out set, even visually, hinting at Weldon's career as an actor.  "Apparently there are sitting and standing songs," she mused as she found herself moving to and from the stool. 

She threw in one song a capella, short and sweet, and later invited Alyssa Robbins, a friend and peer in the singer/songwriter scene, to join her onstage.  This duet hinted at a good idea for Weldon and her one-woman show; she shares the stage just as well as she holds it on her own, but some of her songs benefit from additional harmonies and instrumental layers.

   She is a woman of surprises: the things that come out of her mouth are never what you're expecting.  Even her songs go in unforeseen directions, such as "One of These Days" which dissolves pleasantly into her own version of "Over the Rainbow".  

    So who knows what to expect at Weldon's next show?  Other than a charming performance. And probably a stool. 

Photo credit: Rebecca Greenberg