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.