Spanish Fly 10/22/21 Firehouse 12

 It’s been a while since experiencing the downtown trio known as Spanish Fly (it’s NOT Steven Bernstein’s Spanish Fly). Bernstein on trumpet (standard, valve, and slide), Dave Tronzo on guitar, and Marcus Rojas on tuba. These three christened the Knitting Factory and have been scraping the sides of the jazz world since the 90s. The first number was spare, as if the trio was chasing you through the woods on a dark fall night. Bernstein had a table full of trumpet mutes that were mostly homemade, at one point while returning one to the table it skittered off on the Firehouse floor, with an elfin grin, Steve proceeded to knock the other mutes off just to hear the sound. He was an equal opportunity trumpeter, giving time to all three incarnations. The valve trumpet looked like a cornet held on its side, with a “ backbone” of keys running up the center. The slide trumpet looked like a trombone put through the shrink machine, muted, it produced a troll-like squeal. If you close your eyes and think of a prototypical tuba player, you’d be pretty close to Rojas. Portly, with phlegm colored rims to his glasses, Marcus could hold the low end or whisper odd Tasmanian devil noises into the mouthpiece. Tronzo, sitting, played mostly slide guitar. The guitar rhythms lent a backdrop to the theatrics of the others. These guys are musical omnivores, and gave a shout out to the recently departed Hal Wilner who produced many oddities with the likes of SF back in the day. One number was a letter written by Lenny Bruce to his mother. The three tag teamed sections while the other two played. The letter started with Lenny waxing nostalgic about Thanksgiving, it morphed into his money troubles, and ended with him suggesting that his mother start working at a Filipino whorehouse and giving him the proceeds. A screwed down If 6 Was 9 was epic, with Rojas holding the beat at NyQuil levels. Another hot jazz number had Bernstein chasing Tronzo around. Thoroughly original and enjoyable set to the rapt packed house.

Kath Bloom 10/21/21 Best Video

 Local freakfolk legend Bloom took to the deck on this autumny afternoon. Kath has been singing her fractured brand of folk for years largely under the radar. Her collaborations with partner Loren Connors ( a downtown guitar wizard) had a cult following. Her childlike vocal delivery is somewhere between Tiny Tim and Malvina Reynolds at this point in her career but the poignant simple lyrics carry. Joined on stage by “Chloe” on shakers and simple percussion, and Dave Shapiro on acoustic, Bloom nervously warbled through her set. I’m intrigued by mentees seeking out shelved mentors in this scene. Think Devendra Banhart with Vashti Bunyan, Beth Orton with Terry Callier, heck even Volkswagen with a deceased Nick Drake. Dave is part of the young incestuos New Haven scene chronicled in a recent Maggot Brain article. He also has been tagged in a recent Wire article about production as well as a recent Relix sighting in the “5 artists to watch” section, so it’s no wonder that he has spent some time under Bloom’s wing. His alter-ego as Alexander showcases Fahey-esque primitive stylings, but can also skronk out as a member of Headroom. Watching Bloom reminds me of the late great Daniel Johnston, an outsider, slightly damaged, but engaging in their creative take on the world.

Primus w/ The Sword 9/26/21 Oakdale

 Most dates on this tour had heavy opener Wolfmother to prime the crowd. On this date, The Sword, from Austin took the duty. Aptly heavy, but not the vocal prowess of Wolfmother, choogled through their set. The music occupied the space between Sabbath and Zeppelin. Guitar, guitar/vocals, bass, and drums was the crew. When watching metal, or metal tinged bands, I’m struck by the fact that these bands make it or break it on the strength of the singer/ frontman. (Tell that to a 14 year old Andy who placed Page higher on a pedestal than Plant). Good set to a rapt crowd. Closed with a nice metallic version of Cheap Sunglasses.

Pretty full house for a pandemic rescheduled date for Primus. Primus has been Sailing the Seas of Cheese since the 90s. In that time they seem to have amassed a decent following of freaks and weirdos. Les Claypool on bass and vocals, guitarist Larry Lalonde, and Herb Alexander on drums has been the geometry for years. Primus plays a sophomoric, sinister, funk metal that occupies a space all its own. Claypool, dressed as if he was auditioning for the part of snake oil salesman in Westworld, commands the stage. He prowls while spitting rubbery bass lines that pummel the listener. The first set included such gems as Clown Dream, Too Many Puppies, Here Comes The Bastards, My Name is Mud, and finished with the seminal Jerry Was a Race Car Driver. Les said that as a child, he absorbed all things Rush, the Canadian metal power trio that has obvious influence on the Primus sound. The second set of the evening was a Primus reading of Rush’ A Farewell to Kings album. As a Rush “ appreciator”  I’m not thoroughly familiar with the record, but it was a fitting tribute considering the recent passing of drummerNeil Peart.