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

Play Away...

I don't know what it is about the Bowery Ballroom that brings out the off-the-wall playful energy of musicians.

The members of both Jukebox the Ghost and the Jenny Owen Youngs band who played there on May 27th were no exception.  They may have been, in fact, the pinnacle of the statement.  

The two bands, who were finishing up a three week tour, collaborated at both the end of Youngs' set and at the end of Jukebox's headlining set.  This put eight passionate musicians, who had spent three weeks on the road together, onto the same stage and, needless to say, their camaraderie and joy was palpable.  They beat each other with tambourines, they laughed and shimmied and flirted, and at one point, three of Youngs' musicians (two guitarists and the drummer I think it was) ended up piled on top of each other on the stage floor.  Mid-song, mind you.

During the single cover that Jukebox played ("Temptation" by New Order), dozens of black and purple balloons were released suddenly from the balcony.  As they were tossed around the ballroom, the sense of bliss and play sky-rocketed.  Fans (and presumably friends of Jukebox pianist, Ben Thornewill) at the foot of the stage found great amusement in pounding Thornewill with balloons as he energetically sang through the song, pausing to shout: "It's hard to play with balloons!".

Perhaps.  But it's certainly not hard to find the play in playing the Bowery Ballroom.  

Photo of Bowery Ballroom by curtis w. on www.yelp.com

Steve Martin and the Banjo Band

Who plays a banjo in a suit and tie?  Steve Martin does.  (Who else would, really?)  Well maybe not always in a suit and tie, but yes, he does play the banjo.  Quite well, in fact, as evidenced by his new album, The Crow, ranked at the top of the Bluegrass chart.  The suit and tie was more a formality (literally) of a benefit concert for the Los Angeles Public Library, which he played at the Club Nokia theater downtown L.A. on May 11.  He shared the bill with the brilliant North Carolina bluegrass band Steep Canyon Rangers and later shared the stage with his old friend John McEuen of the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band.  The show opened with an interview (turned battle of the wits) conducted by humorist Dave Barry.

Although the concert flirted with stand-up comedy, Mr. Martin is a serious banjo player.  And yet he doesn’t take himself too seriously.  On more than one occasion, he mocked himself for his lack of skills with the microphone (and even necessitated being rescued by a technical director).  “It’s still the amateur night for me,” he reasoned, “It didn’t cost that much to get in.”

Typically in bluegrass music, the sense of play far outweighs the sense of order.  Yet this was not the case on stage at Club Nokia, where it felt as though these bluegrass boys were playing by the rules: focused and serious with no time for knee-slapping or hooting and hollering.  The audience was equally well mannered, seated as if at a classical recital rather than a toe-tapping celebration of life.  Martin left the stage for two songs, allowing the Carolina boys two songs on their own, at which point they flocked to a cluster around the microphone and played with the real charm and energy of a bluegrass jam band.

Most of the songs were from Martin’s new album, one written decades ago while living in Aspen and, admittedly, “probably high” (“Pitkin County Turnaround”); one within the last few years while on vacation in the Caribbean (“I have $35,000 invested in this song” he proclaimed).  Most were instrumental, as he acknowledged his shortcomings both in writing lyrics and in singing them.  The Steep Canyon Rangers demonstrated their mastery of both of these skills, however, in catchy songs, exhibiting beautiful three part harmony.  The result was an amusing contrast between their harmony and Martin’s monotone one line interjections.

The image of a young Steve Martin sitting around, high up in the mountains (pun intended) with the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band (and maybe Jack and Hunter and other notorious Aspen locals) is striking.  It feels truer not only to the essence of the music, but also to Martin himself, than this dressed-up version that seemed desperate to free itself of the suit that just doesn’t fit.