Bassoonarama 12/14/23 Yale’s Sudler Hall

 What could be more elitist than a holiday bassoon recital at Yale?  I had to threaten some clueless legacy frosh into using his keycard to gain entry, as I was running a bit late. Once in, I had to wait for a song break to enter and forage for an elusive seat in the packed hall. What is this, Skull and Bassoons?  Dr. Frank Morelli and his current clatch of merry lowenders put on an excellent show billed as “Bach, Bassoons, and The Beatles”. I listened to Eleanor Rigby through the door. The show continued with multiple swings at Brandenburg Concertos. The class was a mixed bag of players, a young black student with a classic old school fade, a Lilliputian Indian girl, a chunky middle eastern kid who had the kind of glasses that creepily magnified his eyes, two white guys ( tall and goofy, and short and hairy), and a stately well-dressed woman in heels, maybe a Daughter of the American Bassoon Revolution.  The good Dr. shuffles different combinations of players to afford solos and backing for this excellent crop of music students. During the intermission, I spy Morelli interacting with the kids as if he were an older graying music student. Morelli said that many of the arrangements were pilfered from available trombone charts for the selected music. Last year, I focused on the player’s embouchure. This year, the facial expressions of the players were strikingly different. The black kid’s eyebrows furrowed as if he were chasing notes from the page. The Indian girl was so small, her music stand obscured any view of her face. The chunky kid’s googley eyes gave a cartoonish veneer. Tall and goofy seemed to be in a constant state of “who me?”, while short and hairy used his body to help coax sound. DABR used a low fi lemon sucking pucker for her sound. The Beatles section ensued in earnest. Yesterday, Norwegian Wood, Michelle, and Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da were expertly executed. Amazing how such familiar music can be expertly interpreted in this foreign setting.  The concert concluded with two holiday classics, Sleigh Ride, with googley eyes pulling his mouthpiece to conjure the horse whinny at the end, and Feliz Navidad the Feliciano chestnut. So, elitist? Let’s see, a free concert open to the public, the players a rainbow coalition of perfect SAT scores, a kooky prof who wants to be one of the kids, a program of music from the 1700s and 1960s, I guess this isn’t exclusive, but the epitome of diversity and inclusion.

GA-20 w/ Black Joe Lewis and the Honeybears 12/5/23 Spaceland Ballroom

 BJL is a Texas guitar slinger fronting the blues outfit the Honeybears. Seemed like a pared down version of the traveling group with just guitar, bass, and drums. BJL is an expert picker and seemed to flow easily from hill country blues ( think R.L. Burnside) to some Stax-like soul stylings. Blistering leads and solid rhythm section had the near capacity crowd bumping. The band’s recorded output started in the 2010s then seemed to hit a hiatus until recently. At one point, Lewis stated “we’re from Texas, the hottest state in the union. The only good thing about it is that you can drive 80”. Lewis is a keeper of the flame, the Blues is an art form that won’t be snuffed out. When I saw GA-20 at this years Green River Fest, I described them as “hairy blues men”. I stick by that observation, but in a club setting, I got a better look. This blues trio is Boston-based, not thought of as a hotbed of the genre. The band was Matthew Stubbs on guitar, Pat Faherty on guitar and vocals, and Tim Carman on drums. Stubbs said the band was born out of necessity. He was the guitarist for Charlie Musselwhite, but was furloughed when Charlie teamed up with Ben Harper for their excellent recordings. Stubbs admits that playing wine bars in Boston was challenging and felt as if he had to educate his audiences on the blues. Faherty is the hairiest of front men. A white guy, dressed in black, with an impressive Afro, and dark aviator glasses, he looked like an informant for Link on the Mod Squad. The set was a lesson in the blues with rolling workouts that touched on Chicago, the Delta, and soul. They played cuts from each record, including a tribute to Hound Dog Taylor. The crowd at blues show is great, with a mix of ages and genders, dancing and grooving is encouraged.

Minibeast w/ The Royal Arctic Institute 12/2/23 The Cellar on Treadwell

 I have not visited this address since it was The Space, a non-alcohol venue located in a somewhat dilapidated “house” that was seemingly plopped in the center of the parking lot of the Spaceland Ballroom. Designed as a safe space for teens to coagulate and play video games, it seems  to have evolved into a basement small event space, with bar. Spotify description of RAI is an “instrumental, post-punk cinematic jazz band”. I second that assessment. The group was a quartet with bass, drums, keys, and guitar as the configuration. The music was fluid and definitely cinematic, like a soundtrack theme from an imaginary Western. Some members played in the punk outfit Das Damen back in the 90s. Guitarist was hip and oozed downtown cool, his leads texturing the sound. The music was soothing and could surely be used to score a documentary. It was obvious that “singing” would just clutter the songs. The excellent Garbage Time program on WFMU has RAI in heavy rotation. Minibeast is a tribal punk noise trio. Peter Prescott formerly from Mission of Burma on guitar, keys, and noises with a stellar rhythm section of Keith Seidel on drums and Niels LaWhite on bass. The churning drum and bass leaned krautrock, with echoes of high paced Can or Kraftwerk. Prescott is a legitimate freak, his “singing”or noises were passed through effects and looping pedals rendering them largely unintelligible. One song, I’m pretty sure had him yell Fuck! into the mic. When looped and processed, the noise acted like another instrument. The drummer was lanky, his long arms flailed at the kit creating the tribal backbone. Bass was muscular and insistent allowing for a perfect backdrop for Prescott to riff over. One song had him repeating “raise your hand” as the lyric, while others had spoken word elements. Prescott prowled on and off stage, at one point taking a seat in the audience marveling at the churning rhythm section. Minibeast straddles the line between punk and art rock in a delicious way.

Barrett Martin The Singing Earth Tour 11/28/23 Spaceland

 Barrett Martin is an overachiever. The Singing Earth Tour was a TED talk from the veteran drummer. Equipped with hands-free mic, video feed, and a stage full of drums, Barrett told tales of his drumming life. In the 90s, Barrett played for seminal grunge vehicle The Screaming Trees.  Coming out of Seattle alongside Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Alice In Chains, and Soundgarden, the Trees were the least visible. While many of his flannel-clad contemporaries succumbed to drugs, alcohol, or suicide, Barrett dug in to all things percussive. The story starts post-Trees with Barrett befriending Peter Buck of REM. The heft of Buck’s popularity opened doors and presented opportunities that veered far from the Pacific Northwest. First stop was Cuba. On a State Department sponsored junket, US and British musicians convened in Havana with local musicians. Artists names were pulled out of flower pots and given 24 hours to collaborate. Barrett’s group had Peter Frampton and three Cuban jazzbos, he said their effort was great but is the property of the US government and has been filed away. Off to Bali where Barrett immersed himself in the gamelan. He tried to purchase some of the brass parts, but learned that their manufacture is viewed by Indonesians as a holistic entity, so he would have to purchase over 100 gongs at once. He located an outlet for rejects, or “orphans” and played a nice piece with them and marimba. Next was the Delta blues focusing on the Arkansas-Mississippi border. He befriended Cedell Davis, an elderly picker from the Delta. Born in the 20s, stricken with polio and wheelchair bound, Davis was a conduit to the original bluesmen. Davis told the story of meeting Crap House Bee, the infamous vixen who allegedly poisoned Robert Johnson. The video clip of Davis performing the classic Dust My Broom with grunge musicians was excellent. Off to Brazil where Barrett produced a young musician named Xando Reis. The record was poorly received upon release, but when Barrett returned a decade later, the music had exploded and he played multiple sold out shows to promote. Back in the US, Barrett went for an ethnomusicology advanced degree at UCLA. His mentor was a Native American  professor from Alaska. She dispatched Barrett and recording gear to the Amazon rain forest in Peru to record indigenous shamans. He played mbira (thumb piano) to a video backdrop of a shaman ceremony. The next adventure came courtesy of original Nirvana guitarist turned green beret. Barrett embarked on a 1000 mile sailing race from Seattle to the Northwest Territory. While they didn’t win, Barrett was able spend time with pods of whales and recorded their “songs”. In Alaska, with his mentor ,they immersed themselves in Native American music that was rich in fiddle that stemmed from British and Scottish explorers. Why limit yourself to planet earth? Barrett hooked up with Hubbell telescope scientists to soundtrack clips of far off galaxies. The performance was excellent, imagine Anthony Bourdain with drums. The series looks to be broadcast on Vevo and promises to be a fascinating musical travelogue.

Joseph Allred Neverending Books 11/12/23

 Yes, two Sundays in a row at the ratty bookstore. Full disclosure, this show was the one on the calendar. Allred is a guitarist of the American Primitive variety. Think John Fahey or  Michael Hedges, dexterous, acoustic, largely wordless concise songs. Allred was portly with a W.B. Mason mustache, looked more like barbershop quartet material. He played acoustic 12 string guitar. The sound is beautiful, but I feel for the artist because they seem to spend half their time tuning. First song was about groundhogs that lived under his porch, another was named after a river in North Carolina. Another close view of an amazing instrument, Allred picked with his thumb but used all other fingers to pluck, it sounded like multiple guitars on stage. He had a folksy drawl, but I think is located near Boston. It is amazing how this instrument can shapeshift genres. At times there were Carnatic microtones, like Indian ragas, others leaned toward Arabic scales. The final lengthy tune was informed by work Allred had done with Syrian, Yemeni, and Palestinian pickers. He teared up when trying to talk about the current state of affairs in Gaza. Joseph may have looked and sounded like a country bumpkin, but it was obvious he was a reader and cultural student of music. Always happy to support an outsider playing this underrated style of music.

Bob Dylan Rough and Rowdy Ways Tour Waterbury Palace 11/11/23

 First time at this opulent venue to view what may be the end of the “Neverending tour”. Waterbury is known for jittery neon signage that beckons (warns?) of sketchy wings and gyros, so I was delighted to get a seat for this sold out performance. The theater has a beautiful old school lobby, chandeliers, and an ornate ceiling that transports the fan to anywhere but Waterbury. I rarely see shows listed for this venue and find it hard to believe that third string productions of Annie can keep the lights on. What do you do if you are an 82 year old folk singer with thousands of song writing credits, years of social activism, and a Nobel prize? Pen a new album and take it on the road. Dylan comes out promptly at 8pm and rolls through 90 minutes of music that leaned on the recent Rough and Rowdy Ways record. The setlist went like this: Watching the River Flow, Most Likely You Go Your Way, I Contain Multitudes, False Prophet, When I Paint My Masterpiece, Black Rider, My Own Version Of You, I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight, Crossing The Rubicon, To Be Alone With You, Key West, Gotta Serve Somebody, That Old Black Magic, Mother of Muses, Goodbye Jimmy Reed, and closed with an excellent version of Every Grain of Sand. Dylan came out and played piano for the entire show, the days of guitar and harmonica are over, but the piano allowed him to drive the proceeding from center stage. The band was bass, guitar, drums, keys, with some members taking on other instruments for effect. I have seen Bob many times over the years, with the Dead at Foxborough, twice at Lake Compounce ( poured both times), with Paul Simon at The Meadows, with Joni Mitchell at MSG, at a new Gampel Pavillion at UConn, with the Jerry Garcia Band at the end of the New Haven Colliseum era, and at The House of Blues in Vegas. I even know someone who was at the 5 hour marathon Toads Place show, which counts.Dylan shows and records have been a constant in my musical journey and am a proud and continual fanboy. We all know Dylan detractors, “ I can’t understand him”, “ you’re never sure what kind of show you’ll get”. To this I say, listen harder, familiarize yourself with the catalog, and realize that daily performances for over 60 years is a special thing.

FIM 11/5/23 Neverending Books

 I’ll skip my regular rant about this ratty venue. Sure the discarded couch I sat on sunk to about 1968 when my ass hit it, but the bathroom had a monstrous cast iron steam heat source which made one feel like they were peeing in a sauna.  I’m thinking FIM stands for Free Improv Music, but the crew wasn’t sure and while they have a website, it hasn’t been updated in months. Thankfully this dungeons and dragons club for music theory nerds focused on playing not infrastructure. First up was local treasure accordionist Adam Matlock. Adam is a local scenester whose alter ego is Dr. Caterwaul and has been positively reviewed here. I’ve always thought the accordion was a bagpipe worth listening to. This one had a pearlescent red and white body, gold and red accented bellows, and a pearled button pad. The button pad is odd, it looks like a yoga sock with about 60 little rubber buttons. Chatting with Matlock at the set break, I was embarrassed to ask him button questions. He did lament the tiny Italian company that made his was less than efficient for parts. This instrument has keys, bellows, buttons, and when applied to avant garde stylings, all can move in opposite directions. The curve to the bellows is critical to the bent sound, and Matlock is a master. Next crew was a quartet, Caleb Duvall on standup bass ( FIM CEO I guess), drummer, guitarist (another FIM exec), and guest sax wailer Stephen Gauci. Just read a positive review of Gauci’s new release Live At Scholes Street Studio ( with Matthew Shipp, William Parker, and Francisco Mela, all anchors of the scene). Duvall played one sequence with a bow stabbing motion to strange effect, another had him slapping so hard it felt the whole room was being twanged with a large gage rubber band. The drummer was a piler. The drum kit is a series of flat surfaces, why not pile shit on them, Cymbals, upside down cymbals, cowbells, bean bags, all made different sounds when struck. The guitarist was low key, staring off into space while using various chrome plated widgets to scrape and pluck. Gauci was fascinating to watch, coke bottle glasses and buttoned up brown Brooklyn attire, he moved like a used car lot balloon man, even jumping at the the full of air apex, as if to gather more air to blow through his horn. His sound was Ayler-esque, he needed frequent rests to prepare for the next squall. The final crew was a trio. A young woman on bassoon, guy on standup bass, and a decidedly Nordic looking beanpole on electronics. The bassoon has a great tone, but this gal used it percussively sounding like a cartoon arrow flight at one point. The bass in this group was understated but kept the others focused. Electronics means a laptop, some boxes, some wires, and this guy had what looked like dueling vintage Apple click wheels. The electronics were mostly used for metallic whooshy shading, but one part had him moving to the front sounding like R2D2 being water boarded. There were no introductions, these people all knew each other and were playing with and for their peers. They all looked ecstatically tranced while playing. Hmm, ecstatically tranced, pizza from nearby Modern Apizza, playing music with and for your friends…. Sounds like High School.

John Raymond and S. Carey “Shadowlands” 11/3/23 Firehouse 12

 Luckily bought an advance ticket for the first set of this sold out performance at the Firehouse. The quintet consisted of Raymond on trumpet, flugelhorn, S. ( Sean) Carey on drums and vocals, Romain Collin on piano, Katie Ernst on standup bass, and Dave Devine on guitar. Raymond and Carey are old friends from Wisconsin. Their musical paths diverged with Raymond a Grammy nominated jazzbo and Carey assuming the role of right hand man for fellow Wisconsin indie hermit JustinVernon aka Bon Iver. Bon Iver has secured a place in indie rock royalty with a string of popular releases and high profile collaborations. Raymond and Carey acknowledge that the Firehouse is a new setting for them, but were gushing at the chance to exhibit their music to a different audience. The music had a meditative movie score feel. With trumpet and creamy toned flugel out front and Carey’s  soprano singing, Shadowlands leaned more toward Sufjan Stevens than Chuck Mangione. The backing crew were solid musicians with Collin taking a nice solo and Ernst taking lead vocal duties on Some Other Time, a Leonard Bernstein composition. The modern classical lane is a thing, like the Dessner brothers from The National, this crew occupies the space between popular music and modern composition. Raymond did a tricky trumpet looping sequence through a Prophet 6 which was excellent. I’m always amazed at drumming singers, Carey’s spare shading was not strenuous and seemed not to affect his singing. The Firehouse faithful, to their credit, seemed to embrace this decidedly non-skronky, downright melodic, improv-less offering. For those who complain of the inaccessible sets offered at this venue, would have been wise to get a seat for this enjoyable set.

Xiu Xiu 10/23/23 Spaceland

 Missed local noiseniks Mountain Movers doing the opening for this one. Xiu Xiu is a trio that specializes in noise, industrial, angst ridden post punk. Jamie Stewart on guitar, percussion and vocals with Angela Seo on keys, percussion and vocals and Dave Kendrick on drums. Let’s start with Kendrick, pale and lanky, his brightly patterned shirt matched his ferocity on the drums. Seo was inked and sculpted, her tank top emblazoned with “cease fire” which ,while topical was ironic given the aural assault unleashed by her playing. Stewart was fascinating to watch, his manic yelps could sound like Chris Isaak being tortured or some Pere Ubu or Devo-esque basement rager. Between songs he went to a Nalgene and gargled with some tan liquid as if to congratulate or motivate his vocal chords. They each had a cymbal, which when maniacally struck by all had a cartoony vibe. One song had Seo singing “it won’t be” over and over which pulsed into this rhythmic mush. It seemed that Stewart inhabited multiple personalities on stage. One sequence had him prattling like a petulant teen and then moving to an operatic bombast. This band is experimental, their catalog includes renderings of the Twin Peaks reboot and I did locate Laura’s Theme at one point. Let’s face it, this crew should be playing at the surreal bar in TP. Their recent release has ten songs about tragedy with five about people they know, and five imaginary songs, an attempt to process grief. Between songs, the crowd was deathly quiet except for one free-birding wingnut who was quickly shushed by the hipster majority. Stewart gets on the mic and urges the crowd to “be nice, and respect the opinions of others”. Kind of telling that he stuck up for the outsider, he has spent his life as the outsider. These three were definitely on the spectrum, in a good way. After the encore, Stewart waved to the crowd like a third grader out the back window of the bus, sweet.

Les Claypool’s Flying Frog Brigade 10/21/23 Oakdale Wallingford

 Always a treat to hear bass savant Claypool and his collection of like- minded freaks airing their formative musical laundry on the line. Billed as “the hunt for green October tour”, the band wowed the capacity audience on this Saturday night. Band consisted of Claypool, Sean (Ono) Lennon guitar, Harry Waters keys, Skerik saxophones, Mike Dillon percussion (mainly marimba), and Paulo Baldi drums. There can be no opening act, as Claypool has reached a point in his career where greedy control of the entire evening is necessary. Let’s jump in, first set starts with the sadly topical cover When Johnny Comes Marching Home, David Makalaster (pt 1 and 2), One Step Beyond (Prince Buster or Madness cover, depending on your age) and ended with Cricket and The Genie from the Claypool-Lennon Delirium sessions. Being sired by John Lennon and Yoko Ono has some obvious pluses. Sean is an odd duck, skilled guitarist with whiffs of rock and avant garde royalty, his upbringing must have been a swirl of weed, paparazzi, limos, and absentee famous parents cut short by tragedy. At one point he pulled out the Frampton vocal treater. Set two starts with a Skerik-less full reading of the entire Pink Floyd Animals record. Many an hour has been spent poring over this late 70s masterpiece and the band didn’t disappoint. Waters is also music royalty, being the Hammond organ playing son of Floyd founder Roger, his Brit-lilt hit the vocal sweet spot for this section. Set two barreled on with some selections from Claypool’s vast back catalog, Precipitation, Calling Kyle, and Highball With The Devil allowed all players to shine. Dillon has been part of this troupe for a while and seemed like he got a marimba for his birthday and didn’t want to give it up. I don’t know much of drummer Baldi, but the vetting to be timekeeper for this funk-metal-prog behemoth must have been intense. Set two ends with One Better that includes a tasty Rappers Delight tease. The encore was fabulous, starting with a propulsive cover of The English Beat’s Mirror in The Bathroom into Whamola and ended with the Willy Wonka staple Pure Imagination for which Claypool scored one of the many reincarnations. Must be nice to be the village weirdo, attract other village weirdos, making a living onstage being…….an assemblage of village weirdos.

The Old 97s 9/27/23 Spaceland

 Packed house for a Wednesday to view veteran alt country rockers Old 97s. The band has been together since the late 90s with front man Rhett Miller on vocals and acoustic, Ken Bethea on lead twang guitar, backbone Murray Hammond on bass and vocals, and propulsive Philip Peeples on drums. Miller stated that it was their 30th year together, which is a long time for a band that lives on the periphery of success. They hit the scene with the likes of Ryan Adams and Neko Case penning tales of love and loss and drinking shot through the alt country lens. The live shows are high energy rock and roll that showcase a mix of punk and twang energy. The crowd was mid 50ish and knew the words to most songs. The only person in the room that didn’t appear to age was Rhett Miller. Not sure if it was the long swirling hair, his style of dress, or that he did a solo show at the fountain of youth, but Miller looks exactly the same as when he broke onto the scene. I haven’t followed their career intently, but a Spotify cruise shows some pretty regular releases over the years. The setlist had some notable standouts Rollerskate Skinny, Doreen, Timebomb, Question, and Niteclub.

A Concert Celebrating The Poetry of Langston Hughes 9/23/23 Battell Chapel

 Any excuse to see music in the venerable venue that is Yale’s Battell Chapel is always welcome. On this evening, the Yale Institute of Sacred Music (ISM) hosted two vocal ensembles to illuminate the poetry of Harlem Renaissance wordsmith Hughes. The Cerddorian Vocal Ensemble ( Welsh for “musicians”) was a 25 mixed voice group  and was directed by artistic director Dr. James John. The Unsung Collective is a non- profit organization “ devoted to celebrating people of color in Western art music in NYC” and was directed by Dr. Tyrone Clinton. We arrived late to catch the end of CVE’s set Three by Langston, America Will Be!. U C then took the stage (altar) and performed the Dream Keeper, The Negro Speaks of Rivers, and Dreams. Choral groups are outside of my musical comfort zone, but there is no denying the talent needed to cohesively sing as one. Several members of each group took solos and each had some spare piano accompaniment. From my balcony view, it was striking to see the Caucasian CVE followed by the African American UC. The ensembles “integrated” for the final Afro- American Fragments. Hughes made poetry relatable by ditching the Thees and Thous in favor of vernacular which afforded an artistic springboard for many black musicians.

Ches Smith’s We All Break 9/22/23 Firehouse 12

 A “ visual and musical riot” is the best way to describe drumming juggernaut Smith and his troupe of Haitian voodoo musicians. Anyone who has been to the Firehouse knows the stage and acoustics are intimate, what to do then but put ten people, mics, and their instruments up there. The group was actually two groups. A jazz quartet with Smith on drums, Matt Mitchell on piano, Berlin-based bass wunderkind Nick Dunston on standup,  and multiple Grammy nominee Miguel Zenon on sax were paired with 3 female vocalists and 3 male conga and tanbou players. Zenon had to stand in the hallway for goodness sake. I knew I was in for it when the guy at the door offered up earplugs. The music was a fascinating blend and bounce of the two genres. Traditional Haitian songs and chants were spread over a jazz backdrop. The drummers were nonstop with one guy singing counterpoint to the ladies. Not sure if it was by design, but the range in the singers age was noticeable with a 20ish, 30ish, and a 60ish performer. The Haitian drummers were fascinating to watch, they maintained eye contact with each other so as to seamlessly shift gears and tempos. Zenon was a perfect choice for this endeavor, being of Puerto Rican descent, he has spent decades mining the fertile landscape of Latin and world jazz. Mitchell plays at the Firehouse often, his unkempt appearance matched his feverish runs. When he wasn’t playing, Mitchell stared off into space, like some Buckowskian tortured prodigy, whose artistic brainwaves seemed too much for this world. Dunston is an in demand artist, with forays into electronic composition, he is an accomplished artist in his own right. The website listed Immanuel Wilkins on sax as well but he must have been cut from the lineup (or he would have had to set up on Crown St!). Last, but not least, is Ches Smith. His bio is a dream lineup of boundary pushing appearances with Marc Ribot, Tim Berne, John Zorn, Darius Jones, Vijay Iyer, Nels Cline, Terry Riley, Mr. Bungle, and Xiu Xiu. His lanky frame hitting the kit as if he were a marionette. The groups seemed like an unlikely pairing, as if the jazz nerds were forced to sit at the lunch table with the ethnic kids. The result was something better, something new, a testament to the advantages of diversity.

Digable Planets w/ Kassa Overall 9/15/23 Harbor Park Middletown

 Trekked to this show early to catch young jazz-hip hop drummer Overall’s set. By trekking, I mean park at the YMCA, walk under Rt 9, over some crusty RR tracks, through some construction zone, and past the condemned Harbor Park Restaurant, to get to the venue. A free show that requires one to register, I felt like I was in an outtake of The Amazing Race just to get here. Happy then to be joined by a large crew of young Friday night revelers. Overall rapped from behind the kit and walked out front to spit rhymes. Joined by another drums/ conga, keys, and soprano sax, this crew didn’t just straddle the jazz- hip hop line as much as create something new. Some cuts from his new star cameo heavy release Animals were tasty.

Headliner Digable Planets are hiphop royalty. Two releases in the early 90s, Reachin and The Blowout Comb helped define the genre. The original DPs: Butterfly, Ladybug, and Doodlebug reunited for a 30th anniversary of the Reachin record. Joined onstage by Overall and his brother Carlos on sax, and another pair of brothers on guitar and bass, they bumped through the hits. The music is rhyming interplay between the three rappers that leans more Timbo boots and jazz than Benjamins and Glocks. Ladybug still evokes Brooklyn cool but gave us a reality time check by announcing that her son attends UConn. Butterfly aka Ishmael Butler has had some post DP success with his afrofuturist outfit Shabazz Palaces. The set took in all the hits: It’s Good To Be Here, Pacifics, Where I’m From, Time And Space, Escapism, and Rebirth Of Slick. Daily extreme weather event Hurricane Lee spared us the rain but gave a windy, cool evening which seemed to mess with the sound.

Third World w/ The Legendary Wailers 9/14/23 Hartford Live

 First time at this year’s incarnation of “make Hartford cool again” free music series Hartford Live. As you recall, these concerts happen on an awkward triangle of green space and closed off roadway behind the Old State House. The Legendary Wailers opened the show. I didn’t expect Junior Murvin or Aston “Family Man” Barrett, but little did I realize that any liaison to Bob Marley’s acquaintance could birth a cover band. For all I know, the Legendary Wailers could be fronted by Bob’s paperboy. No matter, the catalog is legendary, with hits like Redemption Song, Get Up Stand Up, Slavedriver, Concrete Jungle and more pulsing from the bass heavy speakers. The lineup configuration is busy with guitars, bass, drums, singers, and female backup singers.

Third World are more of a pop reggae affair who had a few mild hits in the 70s.  Many members are from Jamaica and I believe some original members are still in tow. They played a few straight ahead reggae tunes before playing their top  hit  “Now That We’ve Found Love”. It’s rare to get a full night of reggae played by some legit rastas, which is why it was puzzling when the singer launched into a couple of opera tunes, sung in Italian! If I had to draw a map of music, opera would be on the North Pole, and reggae somewhere near Antarctica. I was chatting if there was an explanation of the inexplicable. Pretty well attended on a nice night in September.

CT Folkfest 9/9/23 EdgertonPark

 Annual treat for me to visit my community garden space and listen to top tier folk talent on the beautiful grounds of this park. As usual for September, the weather was sketchy with neighboring towns being drenched while this event was dry. This year featured two stages which begged for lazy strolling. 

The Bargain: Local folk impresario Frank Critelli sang accompanied by guitar and mandolin players. Seasoned presence and quirky songwriting were on display. Frank is wiry with a long white beard and looks like a punk Santa. Later in the day, some dude was handing out flyers for a Frank-oriented folk happening in a church in Meriden, sounds right.

Dom Flemons: Where to start, this multiple Grammy winning self-named American Songster is music and education rolled into a jolly African American modern day Burl Ives-alike. Solo onstage, he plays and expounds on a variety of traditional instruments. He started with rhythm bones, sticks he held between his fingers that clacked as a percussive background. Next was quills, a pan flute style tooter that must have been easy to assemble with Appalachian detritus. Banjo, guitar, and harmonica were also prominently employed. Flemons is an expert on Harry Smiths Anthology of American Music, the Bible on early folk and roots tunes curated by the Smithsonian. He described the Carolina “Piedmont” style and launched into a medley that included an Etta Baker song and Elizabeth Cotten’s Freight Train, a tune that is played out as much as the Free Bird request. A couple of tunes from his Black Cowboy release and his most recent offering of originals were excellent.

Beppe Gambetta: That’s right, nice Irish fella on the second stage. Just kidding, expert folk picker from Italy. Like a Father Bob Dylan Guido Sarducci, Beppe’s accent was hard to hide. It’s hard to discard the sociopolitical tenets of the folk idiom when coupled with an Italian accent. The tune he sang in his native tongue rang truer, even if I had no idea what he was singing.

The Barefoot Movement: Modern roots  purveyors from the Carolinas fronted by powerhouse vocalist and fiddler Noah Wall. She was joined by acoustic guitar, mandolin, and standup bass. A decade of touring has yielded a confident stage presence and delivery. She spoke of this novel “subscription service” whereby fans pledge a dollar a month and are rewarded with an exclusive cover song. On this afternoon, she belted out Roberta Flack’s Killing Me Softly and a smash of some traditional tune mashed with Led Zeppelin’s Heartbreaker.

Maria Muldaur and Her Red Hot Bluesiana Band: 80 year old Muldaur is still going strong. Having sung backup for countless recordings in the 60s, 70s, and 80s, Muldaur brought her brand of bawdy gumbo to the fest. A perfect reading of the Allen Toussaint Nawlins classic Yes We Can had the best swampy funk bounce. Muldaur’s pandemic homage I’m Vaccinated and Ready For Love was on point.

Quasi w/ Ava Mendoza 9/6/23 Spaceland

 Last time Mendoza was in the area, I arrived late and missed her set. I made sure to get off the couch early on this evening. I have seen her multiple times through the years and her sound has evolved. Somewhere between Wendy Eisenberg and Marc Ribot, Mendoza’s jagged lines and effects pedals were in full force. Ava is an in demand session guitarist and I gushed with her regarding her Curriculum vitae during the set break. Studying with Fred Frith at Mills College, collaborated with tUnEyArDs on scores for Buster Keaton films, played with Sir Richard Bishop, Weasel Walter, William Parker, Nels Cline, Malcolm Mooney, and Nate Wooley. She has become more confident with singing and was able to augment her stellar fretwork with lyrics. Her hairstyle has also changed, a vintage Diana Ross pouf seemed incongruous to the music being made.

Quasi is the Portland OR based duo of Sam Coomes on organ and Janet Weiss on drums. Both are left coast music royalty with Coomes spending time with Elliot Smith and Built To Spill while Weiss played with Bright Eyes and Stephen Malkmus and The Jicks in addition to her main job as chief thumpstress for Sleater-Kinney. Coomes also has a storied career as producer. The music on this evening was loud and visceral. Coomes organ made quite the racket, he even had a small theremin-type noise box that he played with his foot. The organ was stenciled with the word WROCK, which I’m sure had some significance. Weiss was also a force of nature, her drumming was tribal, marchy, or speedy punk in nature. She was able to lend backing vocals while flailing on her kit. These two have been making music since the 90s and showcased some tunes from their recent release Breaking The Balls of History.

William Tyler and The Impossible Truth w/ Garcia Peoples 8/22/23 Space Ballroom

  Jersey jam juggernauts Garcia Peoples have been positively reviewed in this blog before. Two guitars, bass, keys and drums make quite the racket. The show took place in the Space’s front room, smaller and more intimate, this room is usually reserved for quiet folkie offerings. GP is anything but quiet and I caught the last half of their set.  The tunes are stretched to the limit with elements of jam, krautrock, and jazz ebbing and flowing through the din. I’ve heard a version of their song One Step Behind recorded on WFMU that took 32 minutes to complete. Guitarist Tom Malach has good genes, his father Bob, who sometimes graces the stage, played flute and sax for Miles in the 70s. I would urge all readers to envision their fathers interacting with an acerbic icon like Miles Davis, ouch.

William Tyler is a guitarist from Tennessee. On this evening, he is joined by a stacked band of Nashville musicians. Bass, drums, and the session master Luke Schneider on pedal steel allowed space for William to explore. The beauty of having this show in the small room was my viewing location of the pedal steel, I could see that Luke had picks on all five fingers while operating a chrome phallus on the slide hand. Tyler has played with luminaries like Bonnie Prince Billie and supported indie vehicles Lambchop, Wooden Wand, and The Silver Jews. Tyler’s solo material is varied and reminds of other middle America masters like American Garage-era Pat Metheny, Paris -Texas soundtrack style of Ry Cooder, or the quirky fingerpicking of Leo Kottke. Tyler reveled in the band setting and obviously enjoyed turning it up to 11. Great set from this fascinating artist.

Ripe w/ Joe Samba 8/20/23 Harbor Park Middletown

 First offering from this year’s “ make Middletown cool again” series put on by Manic Productions at Harbor Park. Nice setting on the Connecticut river with some food trucks and a small stage. The word of the day is Yachtrockification. The act of filing down the sharp edges of any music genre smooths the product in an effort to increase popularity. Sonny Rollins and Kenny G are both considered jazz saxophonists, but one of them Yachtrocked the genre. On this evening, reggae-light purveyor Joe Samba takes the stage first. Reggae is a summertime vibe and Samba was capable in the delivery. A big fella lefty guitarist from Massachusetts, Samba rolled through his set. Cheeky reggae-fied cover of Dean Martin’s Mambo Italiano was a microcosm of Samba. 

Ripe is regional jam-pop outfit that graces many a festival stage. Big guy front man was backed by guitar, bass, drums, trumpet, and trombone. The set was yachtrocked jam-pop on the order of OAR or Spin Doctors. They opened with the trans positive cover of Lola by the Kinks. Ripe seemed to attract a younger crowd, and many knew the words to their”hits”. Free music, outside, nice weather is always welcome. I would have preferred some pointy edges though.

Govt. Mule 8/15/23 Hartford Healthcare Amphitheater Bridgeport

First time at this venue to get a view of Warren Haynes and company. The show was billed as Dark Side Of The Mule, their take on some Pink Floyd classics. The first set showcased original Govt. Mule tunes, a mixed bag of Molly Hatchet-like B-sides and other southern fried jamminess. Original songwriting and vocal prowess have never been the strong suit for the Mule, it is drum, bass, and guitar pyrotechnics that turns heads. Songs like Bad Little Doggie, Blind Man  In The Dark, and Lay Your Burden Down were capable. The classic instrumental Thorazine Shuffle was a highlight. The final song of their original set was titled Same As It Ever Was……nope, that will always be a refrain from Once In A Lifetime.

The second set was the meat of the tomato, a delicious sampling of Floyd classics. The entire Wish You Were Here record tumbled out, Shine On (I-V), Have A Cigar, Welcome ToThe Machine were deftly executed. Other classics appeared, Comfortably Numb, Breathe, Money, Run Like Hell, and two of my Meddle favorites Fearless and One Of These Days. Jackie Greene surfaced for the last few tunes for vocal duty and guitar counterpoint to Warren. Govt. Mule has always been a force in the live setting, and this show did not disappoint. The rub on this venue has been the possibility for bad sound, the open air and proximity to the water could give rise to problems, but not on this evening.

Newport Jazz Festival 8/6/23 Fort Adams State Park

 Skipped the Saturday, but returned for Sunday at the Fort. A more traditional jazz day showcased some icons, some newbies, and some in betweens.

Cimafunk: Afro-Cuban collective sang in their native tongue. Funky leader and a young woman on sax were flanked by many percussionists.

Somi: SouthAfrican songstress did a tribute to Miriam Makeba

Moodswing Reunion: Strong combo that started in the 90s. Joshua Redman on alto and soprano sax, Brad Mehldau on piano, Christian McBride on bass, and Brian Blade on drums. This group moved from straight ahead to some subtle free jazz passages.

Samara Joy: Grammy winning 20-something had a large fan base. Sang a nice Nancy Wilson cover before launching into her award winning debut. Hailing from the Bronx, Samara relayed her journey from SUNY Purchase to jazz vocal stardom, beautiful voice.

Diana Krall: Mrs. Elvis Costello, Diana has a gorgeous, smoky jazz voice. From behind the piano, she delivered a tight set of standards. I’ve Got You Under My Skin was the highlight.

Soul Rebels with Rakim and Talib Kweli: New Orleans brass outfit was guested with some hip hop royalty. Their high volume, high octane delivery bled into Diana’s set on the main stage.

Herbie Hancock: 83 year old veteran of the scene. This is the second time in recent years that I have had the good fortune of viewing this legend. While last time the set was grand piano, this one included organ, keytar, and even a vocoder passage. Joined by Terence Blanchard on trumpet, Lionel Loueke on treated guitar, were joined by bass and drums. The set was great and included Actual Proof, Rain Dance, and a slinky Chameleon from the Headhunters album. Played a great rendition of Wayne Shorter’s Footprints, another song that spends a lot of time on my turntable.

Newport Jazz Festival 8/4/23 Fort Adams State Park

 The Friday lineup at the Fest this year could easily have gone with the tagline “ take a hippie to Newport Jazz day.” I am fascinated by the lineups curated by Christian McBride, and there was plenty this year to satisfy this musical omnivore.

Angel Bat Dawid: Chicago based poet, clarinetist, educator. Was glad to start the day with a view of this free jazz, Afrocentric traveler. Please google image, at close to 300lb, Angel is an imposing stage presence. She growled and snorted rhymes about black families then launched into a clarinet tirade (air raid?). She moved to a hand held keyboard and whipped her band into a frenzy. The performance culminated with Angel writhing and convulsing on her back. Wasn’t sure whether to clap or call for a medic.

Butcher Brown: Funk, soul, hip hop, group that had some nice jazzy passages.

Big Freedia: once again, please google image. Gender bending nawlins originator of so-called “bounce” music. BF’s combination of rapping and gyrating was high energy. She/he/they, I’m pretty sure BF could occupy any available pronoun ( and a shit ton of adjectives), was flanked by two voluptuous dancers whose movements made my sunburn blush. The band was New Orleans funk that had a hard time keeping up with BF and the ladies. For the classic “Asses Everywhere”, BF pulled any available audience member (with an ass) on stage to strut their stuff. The refrain “I’m da queen dat gonna make ya bounce” was the ear worm of the day.

Soulive: Seminal jamband trio reunion. I’ve seen this group many times in the early aughts but they have not performed together in a while. Eric Krasno on smooth hollow body guitar with brothers Neal and Alan Evans on drums and organ. Wonderful versions of In Memory of Elizabeth Reed by the Allman Brothers and Heavy Weather by Weather Report. Both songs make frequent appearances on my turntable.

Durand Jones: Soul crooner channeled Lou Rawls with a pinstriped suit and white scarf.

Branford Marsalis: Sax playing brother of jazz royalty was a fill in for Kamasi Washington. While some fill ins are uneven (I’m sorely reminded of George Wein putting the Brecker Brothers as a fill in for Nina Simone back in the 90s….not even), this fill in fit the bill. Branford’s set with Joey Calderazzo, William Ledbetter and Jason Faulkner was tight.

Domi and JD Beck: Odd duo of piano prodigy Domi and drummer JD. The tunes were modern classical leaning with a good version of Wayne Shorter’s Endangered Species. Domi looked exactly like a Bratz doll.

Dave Holland: Pillar of jazz bass is credited on many classic recordings including the Miles Davis standout In A Silent Way. He was accompanied by the always enjoyable Kris Davis on piano with sax and drums.

Joe Russo’s Almost Dead: That’s right, Grateful Dead tribute outfit JRAD headlined the Friday. Christian McBride knows the pull of JRAD and their ability to sell tickets. Garcia was a lover of all genres and the overlap of improv fits. While the Dead were known to occasionally tackle a jazz tune, this set was pure Jerry. King Solomon’s Marbles- the NyQuil-tinged Row Jimmy-Let It Grow-Estimated Prophet-Terrapin Station and closed with the classic Brokedown Palace.

Dunia and Aram w/ Artsouca 7/27/23 Cafe 9

 Dunia and Aram are a NYC-based couple that have been playing music together for over 20 years. Their guitarist collaborater was the main focus of Artsouca. Along with the couple and a female drummer, Artsouca bowled through several genres. African, prog, krautrock, the music focused on the fluid lines of the guitarist. I heard Pat Metheny, Habib Koite, even some lithe Jan Akkerman (from Focus) in these guitar centric jams. All guitarists kneel at the altar of Hendrix, this guy played a slinky strut Afro-version of Voodoo Chile with Dunia capably handling the vocal duty.

Dunia said she was from the Bronx. Her dreads and the reggae undertones implied island descent, but she had little in the way of Jamaican accent. For Artsouca, she played percussion and sang, but when the same four people morphed into D and A, she moved to guitarro. Aram played a standup low profile electric bass, you could tell he was versed in the low end of dub and reggae. The drummer was a big woman who I happened upon while she was doing a pre-set toke. “You’re late for work” I remarked, as she took her place behind the kit. Nice set of island inflected jams were played to a sparse crowd. Their take on Billie Holiday’s Strange Fruit lacked cohesion, but a nice reading of Joni Mitchell’s Blue was welcome. With building after building of yuppie condos sprouting in the vicinity, I find it hard to believe that more people would not walk to attend this show.

Peter Stampfel 7/1/23 Neverending Books

 Wow, where to start. This show was billed as 7/1 7pm , 7/2 9pm. Which could either mean two concerts, one twenty six hour concert, or a recurring typo. Given that the artist is 90, I went with typo. Peter Stampfel is founder of counter-culture folk collective The Holy Modal Rounders. Denizens of the early 60s Greenwich Village, THMR were on the scene as a nascent Bob Dylan graced The Gaslight. Political protests against the Vietnam war and reams of LSD seemed to ensue. Alliance with Ed Sanders and Tuli Kupferberg led to the formation of The Fugs. Often cited as the first “underground” band, The Fugs shunned political correctness and instrument-playing prowess for irreverent atonal chaos serving as the house band to many an Allen Ginsberg proto-rave. Fast forward 70 years, and my interest is piqued. Bashing the wisdom of putting on any show at this motley beleaguered attempt at a “bookstore”, is nothing new here. Ragtag collection of discarded office chairs, musty Nancy Drew paperbacks, and one lonely used copy of a Graham Parker record, exude sadness rather than charm. We arrive late to view Stampfel onstage with ukulele and a spiral notebook of visual clues. His “singing” is labored and punctuated with guttural growls. The uke “playing” is also debatable, one might assume that 70 years of performance might allow him to hone his craft. The real instrument seemed to be the reams of LSD. Stampfel routinely started cackling, or launching into Tourette’s-ish moherfuckinfucks throughout the performance. The notebook attempted to steer the proceeding. One passage had him expounding about “love everything that happens to you” while another had him tackling the “bad-guy” song genre with a Stagger Lee lilt. He tried one song where he strung together a rapid fire of fiddle tune names and asked the audience to spot the imposter. Apparently, Bonny Bloody Sword has yet to be penned. The audience was sneaking sideways glances as if to ask “are you seeing this?” We left early, so the verdict as to whether the show was 2 or 26 hours long is still a mystery. As we exit, the guy at the door says that Stampfel’s voice is shot and he’s really stoned. What is unclear, is the timing of when these conditions came on. I am still processing the notion of witnessing an acid-ravaged anti-musician nonagenarian.

Rufus Wainwright 6/27/23 Ridgefield Playhouse

 First time at this comfortable venue. Opener was Lucy Wainwright Roche, she is Loudon’s child by the folkie Suzzy Roche. Suzzy has a sister Maggie that perform as The Roches. Introspective Brooklynite folkie, Lucy is a new mom who used her genetic deadpan comedic delivery to warm the crowd. Ended with a nice folk rendering of Tom Petty’s “I Won’t Back Down” in homage to defiance needed to fight recent incursions on the rights of US citizens.

Rufus Wainwright is Loudon’s child by the folkie Kate McGarrigle. Kate has a sister Anna that perform as  Kate and Anna… wait a minute, is this deja vu within the same post? Loudon seems to have a very specific type. Rufus and band take the stage wearing bejeweled black tunics in support of his recent release Folkocracy. Joined onstage by guitar, keys, bass, drums, and backing singers sister Lucy and California vocal juggernaut Petra Haden. Two full sets of music that was rooted in folk but careened in all directions. A makeshift video feed showed Polaroids and videos of young Rufus interspersed with current Rufus videos set in Laurel Canyon. The Canyon is an oft-cited crucible of 70s folk a la CSNY and Joni Mitchell, and seems to be home for current Rufus. The setlist rambled: Black Gold, a collaboration with his mentor Van Dyke Parks, a Hawaiian song, an Italian song (sung in Italian), a show tune, an opera song styled for folk, Harvest by Neil Young (the album version has an excellent duet with Andrew Bird), Nina Simone’s version of Cotton-eyed Joe, Hush Little Baby, Islands in the Stream (yes, the campy chestnut by Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton). He said that no folk show would be complete without some Bob Dylan, then launched into an excellent Ring Them Bells. Closed with an acapella close vocal harmony version of Wild Mountain Thyme, giving each member a verse. It seems that Loudon was onto something, by juicing the gene pool with musical talent mothers, father, sister, aunts, it seems he has created a musical omnivore by default. The name checks were plenty; residency at the Carlisle, writing and performing an opera with his husband in Madrid, duetting with Brandi Carlisle for Pride month, Laurie Anderson and Jimmy Fallon at his next month’s Montauk show, the list went on. Ridgefield Playhouse has upped its game. Normally a venue for artists in their twilight, was glad to catch this important artist in his prime.

Green River Festival 6/24/23 Greenfield MA

 Driving from Connecticut in the driving rain to see live music outside seems like a normal event, to me. So happy was I to be joined by a sold out crowd for the Saturday at Green River. Happier still to arrive at the venue to a dry parking lot. Armed only with my chair and a screen house that I definitely did not want to assemble, I was rewarded with an excellent day of music and weather. Festival blogs are blurry, so I will do my best to reconstruct.

Eilen Jewel : Regional warbler is a regular at this fest. Her alt-country stylings have matured.

The Felice Brothers: NY state crew survived the hard partying early days. One brother on accordion and keys, the main dude on guitar and vocals. Penn Station and Frankie’s Gun from the early aughts were nice.

GA-20: Black denim clad hairy blues trio from Boston. Wild speculation surrounding the name. Lead singer had dark aviators and a Caucasian Afro, maybe an Afreaux. I thought there was a bass, but it was actually two guitars and drums which exuded a heavy Black Keys racket.

Rubblebucket: UVM jazz nerds Kalmia Traver on bass clarinet, vocals, twirling and Alex Toth on trumpet and vocals led their troupe of merry pranksters for a rousing set. Joined by another trumpet/keys, guitar, bass, and drums, these seasoned jamsters have grown since the early vibes days. Part performance art, part music, the set was well received by the crowd. At one point, Kalmia announced it was “tutu time”, where, you guessed it, the band donned multi-colored tutus jammed, hopped off stage and snaked through the crowd.

Jupiter and Okwess: High energy African funk from the Congo. Led by the wiry Jupiter on vocals, gyrations, and conga, he was joined by two guitars, bass, and a drummer who wore a creepy wrestling mask. He sang mainly in his native tongue and encouraged the audience to jump onstage for the party. Jupiter has likened the shape of Africa to a revolver, with the Congo as the trigger.

The Wood Brothers: These guys have been positively reviewed many times in this blog. Oliver on guitar and vocals, Chris on basses and vocals, with Jano Rix on drums. Always a great set, these guys are seasoned veterans at this point. Good cover of Los Lobos’  I Got Loaded, Postcards From Hell, and Between The Beats (from the new record), One More Day. Festival highlight was their rendition of Luckiest Man from their first record. I’ve heard them play this many times, and I guess so has our crew at the fest because our entire tent spontaneously broke into the refrain at the same time.

Sammy Rae and the Friends: Main stage closer is always a crap shoot. This crew alleges to draw from classic rock, folk, and funk which seemed like too many lanes to drive down. Good cover of The Doobie Brothers Long Train Running.

Angelique Kidjo w/ The New Haven Symphony 6/10/23 Arts Ideas Festival

 Start of the Annual event on the New Haven Green, AK and the NHSO were blessed with nice weather. I will get the rant portion of this post out of the way. The show was listed to start at 6pm, we arrived at 545 only to get the obligatory “thankyou  half hour” followed by an opening set from a local drum healer troupe. At a Dead show, when the setlist moves to drums>space>Bertha tease> drums> space, it is one’s clue to visit a portolet either to A) pee or B) get high behind it. This same crew was at last years folk at the edge series and their insistence veered more military and less healing to my ears. So I guess we were 1.5 hours early given that the opener was listed nowhere in the plethora of emails and fb posts. Happy then to be rewarded with some lovely music from the Beninese-songbird Kidjo. Raised in Paris, her artist parents figure prominently. Her father promoted Women’s rights and she started a foundation to help educate West African girls. Her global love of music starts with African influences like Fela Kuti and Miriam Makeba but increases through the lens of Hendrix, Santana, and Aretha. Last years rendition of Talking Heads Remain In Light was classic. She sang some standards in her native tongue like a good reworking of Summertime. The symphony took a back seat and the sound configuration was challenging. She had a couple of dancers that were visible thanks to the big screens flanking the stage. AK is listed on Time’s 100 most influential people and her activism and positive message bear that out. If she was asked whether or not to list the opening act on festival information, I’m thinking she would say “ yes, please.”

WITCH w/ Death Valley Girls 6/7/23 Spaceland Ballroom

 Odd double bill of disparate sounds. DVG are a young female-centric California quartet. Young women at bass, drums, organ/vocals and a young man on guitar. The sound was punk and the lyrics had a lysergic bent. Front woman was a character and had large sea-green swoosh makeup around her eyes a la Dale Bozzio from Missing Persons. While I won’t make comparisons to the Go Gos or the Bangles, this crew showed the lineage of girl bands of yore. The singer urged patrons to meet her at the merch table to talk about the existence of aliens.

WITCH (We Intend To Cause Havoc) is from Zambia and seemed to have some releases in the 70s. I was curious to see the geometry of the players. Youngsters on bass, percussion, drums, and two guitars were joined by two elderly African men. The sound was full on Afrobeat with one of the original members on organ while the other sang. It was clear that someone, probably the bass player, coaxed these two (and their band name) out of retirement. The beat was infectious and the crowd was receptive. I would be remiss if I didn’t describe these musicians, as they were as disparate as the double bill. One guitarist was American, he wore a Flying Burrito Brothers country rock shirt and looked like Burt Reynolds. The other guitarist was Canadian and looked as if he were in a Romantics cover band. The percussionist played bongos and congas and was dressed in white overalls and wore a Gilligan hat. His “kit” was graced with a plush Woodstock (snoopy’s pal). The drummer was a young African American man from New Orleans. The bass player was a sight, at sound check he (they?) wore a satin jacket with the Fame logo on the back. During the show, they opted for an orange frilly pirate shirt. They is Dutch and goes by the name Jacco Gardner who has some excellent solo offerings. The Zambians were equally colorful. The organ player looked like a day-glo Art Blakey, and the singer appeared to be a psychedelic Huggy Bear. The twin guitar assault emphasized the James Browness of the afrobeat. I notice that the recent WITCH release has some nice rap vocal guesting from Sampa The Great.

Joshua Abrams and The Natural Information Society 6/3/23 Wadsworth Atheneum

Basement theater under the gallery, who knew? Couldn’t think of a better place to view this unusual group. Leader Abrams played the Guimbri, a three stringed homemade-looking bass, Mikel Avery on drums and hand percussion, Jason Stein on bass clarinet, and Lisa Alvarado on harmonium and set design. The music was African trance with the guimbri leading the exotic sounding charge. Josh had an effect pedal that emitted a metallic echo from the guimbri strings to give an industrial clang. The drummer flowed effortlessly, quietly tapping and scraping all surfaces on the kit. Some drums were cloaked in fabric as to muffle or obscure the beat. Drums are critical in any type of trance or drone offering and Avery rose to the metronomic challenge. The bass clarinet is an awesome instrument. While echoes of Eric Dolphy  emerge when a bass clarinet is played, I am amazed by the timbre and scope of the sound. Stein’s contribution to the drone was more nuanced, entering and exiting with a regal wail. Alvarado was a sight to behold, dressed in a fluorescent mauve frock. She is also a visual artist working with brightly colored fabrics and tapestries hung as a backdrop to the stage. The Wadsworth devoted an exhibit space in the main gallery to closely view her work. She looked as if Olive Oyl (yes Popeye’s gal) ran an ashram made from caution tape. The harmonium is another unusual instrument, it looks like a large breadbox with a bellows attachment. A sit down bagpipe driven by the bellows was a perfect trance inducing item. As a whole, these musicians worked telepathically, with Abrams’ occasional head bobs the only conducting present. The concert consisted of two long form trance pieces, the second one was titled Descension from Constriction. Abrams is originally from Philly, in the 90s he played bass in a group called the SquareRoots which morphed into the Roots after his departure. Moving to Chicago, he was quickly absorbed into the Windy City’s fertile post rock scene hanging with Tortoise, Jeff Parker, and the Bitchin Bajas. This music is challenging but rewarding. The listener that can let the sound wash over them is rewarded with a happy hypnotic groove courtesy of a world class guimbrist.

Nick DiMaria and Indigo Seven 6/2/23 Firehouse 12

 Local trumpeter DiMaria gets a showcase at the Firehouse spring series. One of the hardest working jazz nerds in the New Haven area, Nick has, and will play any venue. While not as straight ahead and “out there” as many groups to grace this stage, Nick’s take on 70s fusion was a welcome addition to the roster. Joined by guitar, drums, bass (electric and standup), keys (piano and organ), the group took a stab at On the Corner-era Miles. A flood of fusion memories came back. Whether it be the Larry Coryell guitar stylings of his Eleventh House project, Chick Corea’s Return to Forever, or even the mighty Mahavishnu Orchestra. The group has several offerings on Bandcamp and played a confident set. The keyboard player was excellent and the toggle between piano and organ backed by the bass toggle shaped the tunes. The organ evoked some JanHammertime in spots.

Baba Commandant w/ Emily Robb 5/31/23 Cafe 9

 Emily Robb was a solo guitarist from Philly. She hovered over the electric and spit shards of dissonant shrapnel. The result was abrasive but hypnotic and I just caught the last tune.

Baba Commandant hails from the tiny African country Burkina Faso. The set started with guitar, bass, and drums setting the groove. The ample crowd parted and a tiny figure approached the stage. We learn that this diminutive shaman is BC. He played tambourine, sang, growled, and played something that looked like a kora. A guitar playing friend could only commit to “kora-like” in describing his instrument. The music was decidedly Afro-beat, as BC sang in his native tongue. Most tunes had some call and response passages that kept the crowd dancing and engaged. The bass player and drummer were younger than the other two, and bassist acted as translator/ ambassador. No sooner did I comment that the bass player could join Santana, when a Burkina Fasoan rendition of Jingo appeared. At one point, the bassist asked the crowd to shape the song, “how you like? Salty, sugary, or spicey?” The guitar player was definitely older, but like BC, he could have been 30 or 70. The show seemed to be fostered by the excellent Sublime Frequencies record label. True afrobeat is a rarity in the US, many like Antibalas or Kaleta and the Super Yamba band, have one member with African roots and a crew of Brooklyn hipsters. I’m not dogging this configuration, we can’t all be from Ougadougou (the capitol of Burkina Faso). I’m always amazed at the confidence of these intrepid travellers and am glad they made the trip. Keep an eye out for this crew at a summer festival, you won’t be able to stop dancing.

The Heartless Bastards 5/14/23 Spaceland Ballroom

 Pulling their moniker from an errant trivia answer regarding Tom Petty’s backing band, The Heartless Bastards showed out some blues based rock and roll. Fronted by chief songwriter and singer Erika Wennerstrom, this six piece group choogled with purpose. Erika was joined by lead guitar, bass, female backing vocals, keys/rhythm guitar, and drums. Starting in Ohio and relocating to Texas, the group caught the eye of Black Keys impresario Pat Carney who channeled them to the apt Fat Possum label. Wennerstrom’s booming alto commanded attention and was the star of the show. Decent crowd was supportive, but it would have been nice for some inter song banter. Most of  the set came from the recent A Beautiful Life record that veered closer towards pop in spots. Excellent cover of Warren Zevon’s Lawyers, Guns, and Money was a show highlight.

Damon and Naomi 5/12/23 Best Video

 Damon Krukowski and Naomi Yang are musical and life partners based in Cambridge MA. They were two thirds of the literate dream pop outfit Galaxie 500. In that band, Damon played drums, Naomi played bass, and Dean Wareham played guitar. Wareham would go on to form the  mildly successful indie rock group Luna that has been positively reviewed in this blog before. On this evening, Damon strummed a 12 string acoustic and Naomi alternated between keys and bass. They both sang and continued with the literate dream pop mode. Several tunes came from their recent release A Sky Record. The setlist included How Do I Say Goodbye, The Robot Speaks, How Long, Sailing By, Between The Wars, Season Without Time. The theme of the evening was “almost pretty” which could be a compliment or a dis. The pair spent the day slogging up the Merritt from Philly and decided that Connecticut was almost pretty. The songs were hushed and beautiful with the video store providing perfect acoustics. The show was a Fernando Pinto production and he has moved his East Rock Concert series from the Mactivity Gym space to Best Video. They played an excellent cover of Tim Buckley’s Song To The Siren, Damon noted that Buckley played the song on the final episode of The Monkees. Show highlight was Turn of the Century, a tune from 1998 that was literal.

Erik Friedlander’s The Throw 5/5/23 Firehouse 12

Jazz cello is somewhat of a unicorn. If there was a heap of jazz cellists, Erik Friedlander would be at the top of it. He brought his quartet to the Firehouse. Uri  Caine on piano, Mark Helias on standup bass, and Ches Smith on drums rounded out the group for this excellent set of music. I’m not sure if it is the richness of the cello tone, the omnivorous stylings of the compositions, or the fact that Friedlander is the son of legendary photographer Lee Friedlander ( whose snaps from the 60s and 70s chronicled the American condition with an emphasis on music during that period). With the exception of the younger Smith, these three are pillars of the downtown scene releasing some of the best records that you never heard. The cello allows for a chameleonic quality to the music, the groove based Tan Helmet gave way to the lyrical passages of Little Daily Miracles then on to the free jazz passages of Darse. Erik was definitely driving the trane , to the point of stopping and restarting one tune that didn’t hit his ear correctly. If I told you to conjure an image of Caine, you might get close. Ill- fitting polo, pleated haggar slacks and a haircut better suited to Richard Carpenter, Caine seemed to shun vanity and chose virtuosity. The piano runs could sound downright MikePosty or breathe fire as on the excellent Revelation. Helias added glue, dressed in black with a smooth shaven head, he looked as if a punk Mr. Clean was invited to the festivities. I have seen Smith in many incarnations, he is an in demand drummer for this type of music and I am sure appreciated the opportunity to play with this crew. Jumping time signatures, scraping his cymbals, Smith fit right in with this group. Erik could bow or pluck with one passage sounding Asian and another bowed duet with Helias exuded a mournful sound. Many who come to the Firehouse give me the “I don’t get it” in response to the music. To them, I say catch an Erik Friedlander show. His barrage of styles offers a gateway drug to jazz. Planned lyrical music detours into the realm of free improv, affording the listener a roadmap as to how they might get “it”. Encored with a strict reading of the Oscar Pettiford tune, fittingly titled Cello Again.

Jake Blount, Laurel Premo, Nic Gariess 4/25/23 Cafe 9

A good lead in to this post is my viewing of Jake Blount in the summer of 2022. Blount, an ethnomusicologist (read “nerd”) is a banjo ambassador and American roots music scholar. He plays banjo, fiddle, some backgroundy synth and sings. He is joined on this evening by Michigan-based guitarist and fiddler Premo and traditional step dancer Gariess. I’m fascinated by this music and how young people are drawn to it. These three can’t be over 30. The addition of the dancer brings the old timey feel full circle, Nic shuffled and tapped and was concerned with the placement and efficacy of his floor mic. He was billed as an ethnochoreographer (read “nerd”). He spoke of Celtic step dance, Appalachian stomp, and African dancing as instrumentless percussion. Premo was excellent, reminding me of the young roots guitarist Marisa Anderson. She played Jericho and Hop High from her awesome recent release. I notice that she is peeling off from this crew in support of a Bonnie Prince Billy tour. The songs were mined from the traditional pantheon and bent to a modern offering. Premo took some shrapnel from some 1800s Michigan hymn book and Blount synthesized lyrics from an obscure African-Scandinavian text from which his heritage lies. I urge readers to seek out these artists as they are torch bearers of music that deserves recognition, one might even dub them ethnomusicarchaeologists.

Prism 1965 : Vijay Iyer and Wadada Leo Smith 4/12/23 University of Hartford

 Billed as a “meditation on the year 1965”, a pivotal year marked by the assassination of Malcolm X, the marches in Selma, the invasion of Vietnam, the Watts uprising, and the passage of the Voting Rights and Immigration and Nationality Acts. Composer performers Smith (trumpet) and Iyer ( piano, Fender Rhodes, and electronics) soundtracked visuals provided by Whitney artist in residence Chiraag Bhakta. The performance was alleged to offer a”sonic and visual meditation on the relevance of those past events to our present moment, creating possibilities for meaning that language cannot touch”. Problem was, I felt little of that lofty missive. Smith and Iyer are on top of the modern composition ladder. I have seen them perform at a recent Newport Jazz and they were true to their form on this evening. Smith has won a Pulitzer and his challenging music often reflects social, natural, and political themes. Iyer’s honors include a MacArthur Fellowship, Grammy nominations and has an excellent new release collaborating with vocalist Arooj Aftab and multi-instrumentalist Shahzad Ismaily. The music is decidedly “uneasy listening”. Smith squawked and squiggled with and without his trusty cup mute. On quiet parts, Smith closed his eyes as if to meditate on Iyer’s lead. Iyer usually relies on the Steinway, but on this evening he dabbled with the Fender Rhodes and laptop electronics. The visual backdrop was puzzling. I am no video artist, and I have zero skills in assessing the relative complexity of a video feed, so I guess that makes me an expert on the critique. The picture movement speed was tectonic, so slow that it spurned my interest. The frames slowly mashed images utilizing a color palette of red, white, blue, and black. The speed and the rudimentary color palette were side issues, the main problem was that I could discern little of 1965 from the visuals, which was the whole point. We were left with a concert of the avant- garde stylings of the musicians. I was hoping for more Koyaanisqatsi and less Cafe Oto. The performance did make me meditate. I was able to meditate on how it was possible for me to miss the stated purpose of this performance.

Dezron Douglas Trio 4/9/23 Dwight College Dining Hall Yale University

Hartford native Dezron Douglas brought a trio to headline the Annual Yale Undergraduate Jazz Collective’s spring festival. Douglas on standup bass was joined by sax and drums.These events are free and open to the public, and I am always amazed at the level of talent they get. Douglas was mentored by Hartford jazz icon Jackie McLean. He has played with such luminaries as Pharoah Sanders, Enrico Rava, Ravi Coltrane, Mulgrew Miller, and I notice he is holding down bass duties for a brief stint with the venerable Louis Hayes. The set on this evening pulled from recent recordings: Foligno from 2022’s Atalaya and some Coffee song from the Force Majeure release. The trio navigated straight ahead skronk and lyrical mournful passages for an entertaining listen. A restless musical spirit, Dezron also has Grammy nominated production credits on recordings by his wife, the harpist Brandee Younger. During the pandemic, the pair churned out critically acclaimed duets from their Harlem apartment. If that wasn’t enough, Dezron is offering his services to support The Trey Anastasio Band, the Phish guitarist’s jammy solo behemoth. It seems natural that Dezron would appear to promote music education with the YUJC, he is the beneficiary of a rich musical education and seems like the kind of spirit that would pay it forward.

Mary Halvorson: Clone Decay 4/7/23 Firehouse12

 First off, yay. I mean hell-yay, so happy to have the Firehouse back after a pandemic and some water damage that required lengthy remodeling. Apropos then to have home court guitar wunderkind Halvorson show her recent project Clone Decay. The trio was Mary on guitar and processed electronics, Kalia Vandever on trombone, and Weston Olencki on trombone and electronics. You heard right, two trombones and guitar offered a sonic palette for Halvosen to jump styles and time signatures. The first tune had Olencki squeaking and squiggling from the computer, they sounded like C3PO getting squashed by a semi. Vandever stuck with the trombone and when paired with another could give the proceedings a marching quality or a boozy quality, as if they were soundtracking an Andy Capp strip. Halvorson, as nerdy as ever, in her Sally Jesse Raphael frames, is an unlikely band leader. She nods and smiles her way through improv like some approving librarian. Her tone is varied, I heard flourishes of Larry Coryell, angular Marc Ribot lines, even some Paco Delucia flamenco, deliberate, not speedy. One passage had her treated guitar sounding like it was being played under water. Having “played” the trombone through my junior high years, I have a certain affinity for the sound. It is one of the few instruments where sliding in and out of notes is encouraged. Olencki did some odd puffing embouchure techniques and made use of a cup mute, while Vandever just blew. Halvorson is an in demand avant- axe wielder, just coming from a Big Ears stint where she supported John Zorn’s Cobra. Near capacity turnout was a welcome sight for the nicely remodeled concert space.

Sunburned Hand Of The Man w/ Bentley Anderson 4/6/23 Cafe 9

 Bentley Anderson was a big fella psychguitar noodler. He played seated with a wide array of pedals in front of him. The sound was looped and processed which gave rise to a meditative effect. He played a couple of long form meditations that tucked and rolled with the final section ending with a muddily processed field recording of Amazing Grace.

SBHOTM is a loose collective of musical freaks from the Boston area. They work on psych, noise, drone improv. There were 6 people on stage. Check that, 6.5, the 0.5 being a mannequin head with a Mohawk and terminator shades fixed to a mic stand that peered menacingly at the crowd. Four people twiddled knobs one being a Moog, another a Mellotron. They were joined by bass and drums. One of the twiddlers was a young lady who was either a Karlheinz Stockhausen devotee, or someone’s niece working a summer job as freak drone operator. At the start of their set, one dude duct taped some oak tag to the wall as a receptacle for a decidedly lo-fi video screen which he proceeded to shimmy in front of as he sang. The songs were very Can-like with garbled vocals and a motorik drum and bass assault. One tune had the singer opining on “sweating the small stuff”.  I have seen this outfit several times since the early oughts. One memorable show in the back room of Bar had the crew dancing around a stolen Charlie Brown tree with drum and cymbal cases on their heads in a sort of a long-haired short-bus Bacchanalia. Look at SBHOTM on Spotify and you will see countless releases, many live recordings of this ever shifting group. I should note that pre-show and set breaks was expertly helmed by DJ Caren spinning vinyl, she had the good sense to play some Dire Wolves, a perfect trippy jammy mix. This group is way out and not for everyone’s taste but they are truly original. They ended their set with an unceremonious “thank you”, as if to imply “haven’t you people had enough?”

Eyelids w/ Hallelujah The Hills 3/19/23 Cafe 9

 Never miss a Sunday afternoon show. The phrase has been known to be uttered. Caught the last couple tunes from Boston’s HTH. Rowdy crew with a lot of bodies on stage. Fiddle, guitar, guitar/ vocals, trumpet/ synth, bass, and drums made a lot of sound. Their call and response shouty attack swerved toward Dropkick Murphy territory, in a good way. Having released several albums since 2007, Spin calls them “criminally under-appreciated”, and I can see why. Powerful front man held the crowd and their recent single Get Free was sweet. Don’t know much about Eyelids, but the Portland OR best kept secret graced the stage at the 9. With a band pedigree that includes work with Guided By Voices, Decemberists, Elliot Smith, Stephen Malkmus, Camper Van Beethoven, Damien Jurado, and a recent release produced by  Peter Buck, my interest was piqued. Started with a warmup rendition of CVB’s Eye of Fatima before launching into a pleasant set of Beatle-y jangle pop. Singer Moen was the better vocalist. These guys have been on stages for decades and tried to come off as The Wrecking Crew of Indie rock. The music was good and they pulled heavily from recent release, A Colossal Waste of Light. Nice afternoon of tunes, an interesting example of the opening band eclipsing the performance of the headliner.

The Contrarian Ensemble 3/16/23 Frist Museum, Nashville TN

 The Frist Museum of modern art in Nashville seems like an outlier in this country music Mecca. Housed in a cool old post office, the two exhibits on view channeled climate change and gender inclusivity. When scrolling for tickets, I notice that a performance by the Contrarian Ensemble is free in the Cafe. These guys could have been called the Contrarian Octogenarian Ensemble as they were five old guys playing traditional and string band music. The musicians were dobro, fiddle, mandolin, guitar, and accordion. A slow trickle of attendees eventually filled the room. The lineup allowed them the ability to play a wide swath of string music. Autumn Leaves, a French song Wild Strawberries, Duquesne Waltz, an Appalachian ramble, and some Irish reels (St. Patrick’s day warmup) made for an enjoyable listen. The age range for this audience was 5-90, which always makes me smile.

Clem Snide 3/15/23 The Bluebird Cafe, Nashville TN

 Serendipity. February 2022 Clem Snide was slated to play in New Haven. The show was cancelled for a Covid issue, rescheduled for August, cancelled again, money refunded. I was annoyed. Clem Snide is a band that’s the brainchild of Eef Barzelay. So serendipity reared its head and had Eef playing at the historic Bluebird while we were in town. Tickets for this venue are difficult to come by, sales open a week prior to the show and sell out within hours. A perfect place to view this quirky singer songwriter. He has a nasal voice and plays a righty acoustic left handed ( a la Hendrix). On this evening, Eef also leaned on this odd vocal technique, he made this high pitched hum and shook his head near the microphone which shaded songs with a Bernoulli effect. The best part of this venue is that you are feet from the artist, he  said that he can look into “all of  our eyes”. The inter song stories were abundant and hysterical. One story had Eef smoking a fatty  in an alley with a fan named Tugboat. Apparently, Tugboat was pinched with a quantity of weed which required him to pee in a cup to show remorse for his “crime”. Pot smokers, a wiley cadre, know work arounds. Tugboat purchased a whizzinator, a limp strap-on that allowed him to “pee” with some clean urine in tow. It would have worked, but Tugboats choices for clean urine were limited and he failed his exam with someone else’s pee. Another intro to the song Jews for Jesus Blues had Eef relating the start of Christianity. Turns out that the apostle Paul was not too keen on dining with men who weren’t circumcised which was impetus to start his own religion, go figure. Part of the CS oeuvre is absurd folkie covers. For this show, Eef played a screwed down version of Stayin’ Alive. The setlist of originals had some gems, Noone’s Happier Than You, Some Ghost, Grace, Don’t Bring No Ladder, Something Beautiful and many more. It’s not often that I can recommend a song that encapsulates the vibe I felt at a certain show. While he didn’t play this song, I urge all readers of this blog who are over 50, locate Clem Snide’s rendition of Faithfully by Journey. You’ll feel what I felt, at the Bluebird, witnessing an under the radar artist who deserves radar status.

The Royal Hounds 3/14/23 Robert’s Western World, Nashville TN

 South Broadway in Nashville is Honkytonk Row. It is a sight to behold, five or six blocks of wall to wall saloons, cowboys, cowgirls, urban cowboys, bouncers, and musicians convening in a maelstrom of country music. Many bars are owned by pop country icons that help lure patrons off the street. The bars have stages in front with windows open to the street in the hopes a choice riff snares a thirsty patron inside. Guidebooks are often misleading, but our Nashville book described a “sweet spot” to take in this spectacle. Early evening before the population (and their bladders) swell to the pop point is the best time to view. We caught much of The Royal Hound’s set at Robert’s. There were several bands before and several after on this chilly Tuesday. The trio consisted of a fret burning guitarist from Brazil, a capable drummer, and a front man who sang and played standup bass. They stormed through Dick Dale’s  Misirlou which morphed into a speedy Rawhide. These guys can play, but I’m assuming so can the other thirty bands that were playing the 6pm time slot on the strip. They played the obligatory Devil Went Down to Georgia, I wonder if the cowboys realize that song is about Robert Johnson’s deal. I know summayall are thinking about Getting Drunk On a Plane, but I was happy to be Here At The Western World.

Regina Spektor 3/13/23 Ryman Auditorium Nashville TN

 Any trip to Nashville should come with a visit to the historic Ryman. Situated in the heart of town, and the site of the original Grand Ole Opry, this repurposed church still has pews to accompany its divine acoustics. The lobby is adorned with country music ephemera, and a tour of the facility oozed music history. The artist entrance backs up to honky tonk central and I’m sure many an act tipped a few at a bar before going to work at “church”. Regina Spektor took the stage in a full sparkly dress. Russian born Spektor started classical piano at 6. On this evening she spent most of her time at the Steinway, her angelic warble was perfect for the venue. While I’m not entirely familiar with her catalog, I am able to piece together some of the setlist. Raindrops, Sugarman, the scatty Loveology from her recent 2022 release. Grand Hotel, Ballad of a Politician, Eet, Folding Chair, Genius Next Door were all excellent. RS moved to a small organ for some songs, using a drumstick on a folding chair for some one handed percussion. She also sang some a cappella, using a cool microphone tapping technique for added effect. Local musician, and friend of Spektor, Ben Folds hit the stage for one duet. I was interested to see how (if) RS commented on the current situation in Ukraine. A tasteful show of support for the people of Ukraine and a swift condemnation of the “insanity of Vladimir  Putin” was backed up by stating that proceeds from merch sales would be donated to aid for Ukraine. I do need to comment on the seating. So God made man (and woman), and his “house” comes complete with pew seating. He messed up on the math as to how a parishioner (or audience member) could possibly sit in one of these soapbox derby  seats for the duration of a mass/show. A Nashville entrepreneur might do well to set up a Rolfing kiosk outside the Ryman. Closed with her best known hit Samson. Very enjoyable check on the bucket list of music venues.

Remain In Light: Harrison, Belew w/ Cool Cool Cool 3/11/23 College Street Music Hall

 We speak of “desert island” recordings. Few will land as high up the ladder as the Talking Heads Remain in Light record. A confluence of art punk hijinx, African rhythms, and proto-sampling era field recordings produced by top of his game Brian Eno. To those who know me, you realize that I would need to procure a nearby desert island to house my desert island recordings. There would be Taking Tiger Mountain By Strategy, natch and Weasels Ripped My Flesh, duh, the storage island would need to be big. So excited was I then to see an event that had original guitarist Jerry Harrison and hired axe-slinger Adrian Belew fronting a crowd of regional jamsters performing this album. Any jam crew worth their salt needs a passing grade in Talking Heads 101, and the outfit Turquaz, now awkwardly named Cool Cool Cool, moved to the head of the class and backed this adventure. CCC had a drummer, drummer/percussionist, bass, guitar/keys, trumpet/keys, multiple saxes, and dueling women vocalists who dervished to the beat. Harrison has been underground for years but seemed grateful to Belew for driving this project. Started with Psycho Killer and never looked back. Cross eyed and Painless, Born Under Punches (The Heat Goes On), Houses In Motion, Once In A Lifetime were supplemented with Life During Wartime, Drugs, I Zimbra, Slippery People, and Cities. Harrison played Rev It Up from his Young Gods release and Belew tackled King Crimson’s Thela Hun Ginjeet from the simultaneous Discipline recording. The near capacity crowd was into it and I felt like a kid in a candy store reliving my many viewings of this tour. Multiple New Haven shows, West Hartford Agora, the Orpheum in Boston, culminating in the Colliseum Stop Making Sense viewing. I even retained my TH 1982 tour pin. Closed with an excellent reading of The Great Curve, a song that matched this group of musicians perfectly. David Byrne can’t be replaced, his avant-Gump dead pannedness is a singular talent that can only be attempted. The fact that Byrne is a restless artist who is always swimming upsrtream or maybe even out of water entirely, should not relegate this vital music to a drawer. It belongs on a desert island, or on your turntable. For the happy crew in attendance it was the same as it ever was, for the rest of you, well, ……you are still waiting.

Sunny War 2/26/23 Cafe 9

 Sunny War is a young African American woman from Nashville. She played folk, finger style guitar and was joined by another guitarist and a drummer. War’s voice was a fantastic alto, like a cross between Odetta and Cassandra Wilson. Haters may say that I am just comparing her to other black women, but she definitely does not sound like Laura Nyro or Barbara Streisand. The songs were simple, folk, country, even a fake bossanova, that allowed her voice to shine. The other guitar player said he has played the 9 four times, with a different band each time. His electric offered a good counterpoint to Sunny’s picking. His use of the whammy bar shaded with sliding chorus notes that added to the appeal. The whammy was central to his playing, one might even dub him a whammyphile. Sunny seemed to channel her voice, I say that because her intersong banter was that of a 20something stoner, a striking difference from the booming vocals. Lucid Lucy, Whole, No Reason, and New Day were all excellent, many coming off a recent album. Sunny encored with a solo reading of Elizabeth Cotten’s Freight Train. Cotten, another black woman, is a perfect addition to my list of comparisons.

Idiopreneurial Entrephonics Festival, Wesleyan 2/17/23

 Leave it to the music theory nerds at Wesleyan to come up with the I.E. festival. A two day event that focuses on improvised electronics. Idiopreneurial Entrephonics, google it, just kidding, google has no idea what it means. It seems like it is an anagram of syllables, a syllabanagram if you will. Entrepreneurial we know, but idiophonic? It seems that term is defined as an instrument “the whole of which vibrates to produce a sound when struck, shaken, or scraped, such as a bell, gong, or rattle”. Not sure if the music I saw was idiophonic in nature, but vibrations and sound were abundant. The first artist on the Friday night bill was Bonnie Jones. Jones piece “Samesame” was billed as a multichannel sonic counternarrative. Using field recordings, circuit bent electronics, samples, and historical recordings, Jones wove a sound tapestry that was fascinating. Sitting at a folding table with computer, Jones read some passages on being a Korean-American while surround sound traffic noises filled the air. Another passage sounded like she was ripping open a package below a rotating helicopter blade. Next up was John Bischoff, founder  of the League of Automatic Composers and professor at California’s legendary Mills College. Bischoff played three pieces. The first two “Bitplicity” and “Visibility Study” start with pulse wave analog circuits controlled by Bischoff that are fed into the computer and interpreted and played back. Bitplicity’s response sounded like an army of rubber band twanging while “Visibility Study” sounded like dinner conversation at R2D2’s house. There was harrumphing grandpa D2, cackling auntie D2, and even Cindy Lou D2 (who couldn’t have been no more than 2). The final piece was “Calliope” which was billed as a take-off on Leon Theremin’s realization of Henry Cowell’s concept, an instrument called The Rhythmicon which automatically reiterates its tones at rates corresponding to the ratios of selected pitch combinations. To me it sounded like a staticky AM radio getting busy with a Geiger Counter. Wesleyan is the Mills College of the East, so left of center that even the Moogs have pronouns. It was a treat to watch these extra-terrestrial sonic explorers ply their trade. I am the proud son of a higher order thinker, I realize that asking this crew for bus fare would be a problem, but having them invent a monetary system to fuel their hover-bus mass transit system, now that’s up their alley.

Glen Roth Center Street Brewing 2/17/23

 Glen Roth is hiding in plain sight. Local acoustic picker has been playing coffee shops and farmers markets for years. We even saw him play a Christmas pickathon in the lobby of my old gym. It’s only natural then, with the exploding population of breweries, that artists like Glen have a few more corners to inhabit. Apparently CSB has been around for several years in a hidden tract behind Archie Moores in Wallingford. Breweries, basically man caves for white guys with dough, bring in bodies on most Friday afternoons, and this was no exception. Glen had a corner and a tip jar, assessed the crowd, and launched into some favorites. The vocals are soothing, but the guitar work is stellar, even if I was the only patron paying attention. Blue Skies, In Your Eyes, Heart Of Gold, Here Comes The Sun, Feelin Groovy, I Am A Rock, Teach Your Children, Redemption Song, and Another Brick In The Wall are all staples and could elicit a hum from the middle age crowd. I remember chatting with Glen about his exploits busking in various NYC subway stations, cataloging the acoustics and optimal placement for sound. His Spotify offerings lean on picked covers, Seal’s Kiss From A Rose seems to have received some sideways popularity. Glen travels solo, acoustic, small amp, all he needs is an outlet. If you are walking the streets of New Haven in a downpour, duck in a lobby for cover, and happen upon a solitary figure playing guitar, it’s probably Glen Roth studying foyacoustics, just cuz he can.

Paul McCartney : Lyrics 2/16/23 Woolsey Hall

 Sir Paul, Macca, whatever you want to call him, is the most famous octogenarian Liverpudlian to grace  the stage at a capacity filled Woolsey. In conversation with a Yale English prof, McCartney and Irish poet laureate Paul Muldoon spoke of their collaborative book Lyrics which exposes 175 career spanning song lyrics arranged in alphabetical order. The Beatles, Wings, solo and collaborations, McCartney’s career is nothing short of legendary. The songs occupy a space in the soundtrack to so many people’s lives, mine included. How fortunate am I to be married to someone who works at Yale who has the manual dexterity to get us on the list to view this pillar of the music we love. The themes are what one might expect; family, place of origin, love of language, hatched in a time that was singular, The Beatles serve as a support beam to much of todays music. While he was talking, I was struck by his awe at the body of work, and how in many instances he attributed luck or magic to the songs. He said that the song Yesterday came to him fully formed in a dream! Take that shitty dream about buying grapes or driving through the woods. His imagination was also on full display, on the tour bus a roadie asked Paul to “pass the salt and pepper” which birthed the entire concept of Sgt. Pepper. Paul stated that he came from a large, happy family while John did not. These perspectives helped the songs to gel, one example was Paul’s “it’s getting better all the time” to John’s “it couldn’t get much worse”. Hey Jude was actually Paul’s message to Lennon’s son Julian (Jules) regarding John’s divorce of his first wife. The yin and yang that is Lennon-McCartney is emphasized by their process. He said that they would sit across from each other for hours with acoustic guitars, Paul lefty and John righty, exhibited a mirror like quality to their songwriting. Liverpool; the “capital of Ireland” is a port city home to working class Irish, and Caribbean communities. Paul attributes this melting pot as home to his love of language and respect for people. When the Beatles first came to America (land of the free and all), they were slated to play in Jacksonville to a segregated crowd. They refused and forced the town elders to bend their policies to avoid riots. The magical Liverpool landscape is a character in this story. Paul spoke of being a Boy Scout wherein they were tasked to help the community by inquiring the locals for “a bob a job”. The small amount of money received for odd jobs paled in comparison to his interactions with old people, your welcome Eleanor Rigby. It’s hard to believe, but Paul has musical influences. Rock and roll didn’t just happen in a bedroom in Liverpool. Chuck Berry, Elvis, Little Richard, Motown were thrown in the songwriting pot. Paul said he wrote “The Long and Winding Road” with Ray Charles as inspiration. On songs he wished he wrote, “God Only Knows” by The Beach Boys rates. He said he sang it with Brian Wilson and cried through most of it. What was apparent in this talk is that Sir Paul is a willing and capable vessel to trap the lightning needed to forge this music, magic indeed.

Jon Spencer and the Hitmakers 2/1/23 Spaceland

 Veteran noise doyen Spencer ditched his previous outfit the Blues Explosion for a new crew of noiseniks, the Hitmakers. Spencer has been turning up to eleven since the 90s when he fronted DC scuz-punk-blues group Pussy Galore. The music has always been primal, with the marching order “ loud is better, loudest is best”. Spencer leads the charge on guitar and “vocals”, the lyrics are largely unintelligible or maybe it was just my multiple pairs of earplugs filtering the insanity. Not sure if it was the speedy vocal delivery, the two sizes too small Levi’s Jean jacket, the rock and roll or maybe drug habit skinny stature of Spencer that made me think he was British, but wiki tells me he’s from New Hampshire. He’s joined onstage by Sam Coombes on keys and electronics, and two “drummers”. One drummer played a traditional kit in a truly punk style. The other “drummer” resembled Cousin It and banged on a variety of car parts and household objects. His setup had some overturned metal trash cans, five pound weights, a car’s gas tank, and a large metal suspension car spring. He struck these items with either ratchet handles or a pair of hammers that colored the din with a scary junkyard vibe. Coombes has also been around the block. Starting in Texas then moving to Portland, he played in Quasi with his ex-wife, Sleater-Kinney’s Janet Weiss. Sam’s background vocals helped tether Spencer’s assault. At one point, Coombes asked the crowd if there were any Yale students in attendance, to which he got a handful of yelps. He had one question for the brainiacs, “yes or no, can you polish a turd?” I still remember my last viewing of Spencer at this same venue, he closed the show with this decidedly British missive “ de bess fing a bat Spays-land, ease yadont hafta listen ta anywons boo-shit” ( sentence best appreciated when read aloud). 

G. Love and Donavon Frankenreiter Mohegan Sun Wolf Den 1/28/23

 Great duo gracing the Wolf Den stage at the casino. These shows are free and have a strict time control, starting at 8pm and ending at 930. The casino wisdom says to get bodies on the floor and the money will fly from the wallets. We arrived a little late but caught a decent amount of the set. Love and Frankenreiter are veterans of the jam rock scene and was good to see them on the stage at the same time. G. love is the mush mouthed homie from Philly. I first saw him in Memphis at a festival some 20 years ago and was captivated by his vocal style and harmonica chops. Donavon put out a few critically acclaimed platters back in the day and sprinkled some hits into this set. Guest axe-wielder Christone Kingfish Ingram played a national steel for the recent Guitar Man. G. said Kingfish has a forthcoming Dan Auerbach ( Black Keys) produced record, which is a pretty big deal. Wiggle Worm, Baby’s Got Sauce, Cold Beverage, were highlights from the G. Love catalog. Donavon plays a mean guitar, the highlight from his catalog was It Don’t Matter. He had the bright idea of pulling a fan onstage to sing the refrain. Not sure if it was planned or he got lucky, but this big fella fan was A) not trashed, and B) had the blues vocal chops of Canned Heat. Enjoyable show for free. These two were heading to Irving Plaza the following evening which definitely would be a different price point for entry.

The Z3 1/14/23 Spaceland Ballroom

 Z3 is a trio of Tim Palmieri on guitar, Beau Sasser on keys, and Bill Carbone on drums playing “funky takes on Frank”, Zappa that is. All three have a pedigree of the regional jam band scene playing in Kung Fu, Lotus, and The Breakfast. East Havenite Palmieri has been playing guitar in New Haven since the 90s playing all of the Gathering of the Vibes Festivals, so you can imagine our paths have crossed. For me, his most memorable stint was that of the solo axe-wielding troubadour residency at the front room of Bar. In that capacity, he was called upon to take requests from the pizza munching masses. The wide range of patrons asked him to play anything from New York New York to the Black-Eyed Peas, and he happily obliged. On one occasion, an obnoxious listener, me, asked him to mash Cindy Lauper’s Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, with John Coltrane’s A Love Supreme to which he did an admirable job. He literally came to those gigs with a huge book, a Funk and Wagnalls bible of songs, on the rare chance he got stumped. So, what do you do when you can play anything, even layering multiple tunes? Dive headfirst into the maelstrom known as the Frank Zappa catalog. Guitar pyrotechnics, sophomoric lyrics, impossible chord changes and time signature jumps create a springboard to further his craft, without breaking a sweat. I’m a little rusty, and certainly missed some references, but here goes a stab at the setlist. Peaches En Regalia, Joe’s Garage ( with forays into Tequila and Louie Louie), Baby Snakes, an excellent lengthy bluesy Willie The Pimp, Muffin Man (reimagined with a crab cake),  Excentrifugal Forz, Apostrophe, an excellent take on Titties and Beer (complete with Carbone donning a devil mask for the deal with the devil sequence). They even sang a tune in German, Frank was much beloved in Eastern Europe. Some sequences just seemed to run off a Zappa riff, noodling their way through a cavern of organ fueled krautrock at one point. The teases were also plentiful, I heard Blackbird and While MyGuitar Gently Weeps, and a beautiful take on Blue Wind (RIP Jeff Beck). The packed house was glad to welcome Tim home as he recently relocated to the Florida Keys. Encored with Zombie Woof and then Montana from the Overnight Sensation record, Tim closed out the evening with a strict reading of the surf chestnut Apache, which must have some Zappafied significance. If the Z3 come to your town, don’t be a naughty Eskimo, get out and see them.