Bassoonarama 12/19/22 Sudler Hall

 Bassoonarama is back baby. Professor Frank Morelli’s band of merry Christmas low-enders basswooned the crowd with their annual holiday recital. Check that, the pandemic upended the low end for the past few years, but the intrepid Professor powered through. Six bassoon students and Frank showed their stuff to a raucous packed house. The theme was “ and now for something completely different”, starting with Sousa’s The Liberty Bell March, more commonly associated as the Monty Python theme song. Next up was a passage from Rigoletto and then The Nutcracker. For those of you not familiar with the bassoon, the loping sound graces the movements of many a cartoon turtle. The next section had some early American pieces, Go Tell It On The Mountain, Amen, and Mary’s Boy Child. Back to some passages from Rigoletto and The Nutcracker, I was struck by the difference in embouchure of the players. The truly diverse (race and gender) cast of musicians mouth  positions ranged from a suck on a lemon pucker to a Gillespian peep frog affair. Closed the evening with the Latin tinged Mi Burrito Sabanero and Jose Feliciano’s Feliz Navidad. This recital has become an oddball holiday tradition for me, and I am truly grateful for the access. Judging from the crowd, next year’s concert would be wise to move next door to Sprague Hall. This is feel good music and I could feel the smiles behind the masks.

Delvon Lamarr Organ Trio 12/13/22 Spaceland

 Praise the almighty algorithm! Delvon Lamarr Organ Trio (DLO3), you know em? Me neither. About a month prior to this show, my feed was barraged with “hey crew, we’re just back from our Europe leg of the tour and are jonesing to see our friends in the states”, “ get ready for some booty-shake blend of 1960s soul-jazz, slinky Nawlins funk, with a splash of acid-rock guitar” top that with some cool graphics and the algorithm worked. I was pointed to this show, and rightly so. Packed house to see Lamarr on organ (Hammond B-3 to be exact), Jimmy James on guitar, and Thunderfoot McDonagh on drums. The set was already underway when I arrived, searing instrumentals with great interplay between guitar and organ. DLO3 were all technical wizards and could have easily played the phone book, thankfully they stuck to funk and soul classics for a thoroughly enjoyable listen. Move on Up by Curtis Mayfield, Can’t Hide Love by Earth Wind and Fire, Marvin Gaye’s Inner City Blues, Ain’t It Funky Now by James Brown, and a Jackson Five tune that I couldn’t place were all expertly rendered in an instrumental soul vibe. James was a sight, a big fella whose afro scraped the house lights, that delighted an equally large Lamarr who had the benefit of sitting at his instrument. In addition to the setlist, song snippets tastefully layered in, made this music nerds head spin. I heard Bad Moon Rising, Seven Nation Army, Africa, Purple Haze, even a little tease of A Love Supreme! While James didn’t play left handed, upside down, like his fellow Seattle axe-wielding namesake, his picking was uncanny. He had a penchant for jumping time signatures and forcing the others to do likewise. The originals were less interesting, but with titles like Close But No Cigar and Al Greenish, they kept the groove flowing. We (I?) often deride the algorithm as some evil Zuckerbergian form of mind control, but I’m glad on this evening I was drawn like a moth to a funky flame.

Twisted Pine w/ Moonrise Cartel 11/29/22Cafe 9

Moonrise Cartel is a local folk outfit featuring lead man on acoustic and vocals, a Nicolette Larson look and sound-alike woman on backing vocals, keyboards, and fiddle. The singer had a booming voice, he sounded like Neil Diamond with a hoodie. Fiddle player had some nice jammy fills and the guy-girl vocal duets shined in spots. Their set closer Seeing Ghosts was a good warmup for Twisted Pine. TP is a Boston based new grass quartet that brought the goods. Kathleen Parks was the lead singer and played fiddle. Big guy Chris Sartori on standup bass did most of the talking between songs, Dan Bui on mandolin, and a young woman named Anh Phung on flute. I’m checking them by name because their gender and ethnicity highlighted the exoticism of their sound. Parks and Sartori were Caucasian while Phung and Bui were Asian or Amerasian. Bui was tiny and he looked like Tattoo from Fantasy Island, because of his stature, the mandolin looked like a Gibson hollow body in his hands (think Bill Halley or Wes Montgomery). The flute is not standard in a bluegrass band, and Phung’s addition enabled attempts on multiple genres. The set didn’t disappoint. The first tune was an instrumental that almost barfily veered into Celtic Woman territory. After that the set took off, Elizabeth Cotten’s Freight Train, Cold Rain and Snow, and a country tune sung by Chris were all excellent bluegrass renditions. Bui took control of a Beatles mash where Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds birthed an excellent Dear Prudence tease. Some nice originals, including top Spotify hit Papaya, showed that this band is itching to cross boundaries away from traditional bluegrass. Having said that, I was still awestruck when Chris announced “ now we’re gonna play a Frank Zappa tune”. They launched into a perfect Peaches En Regalia, with that group of instrumentation, had me smiling from ear to ear, as I was probably the only Zappa fan in attendance. A colleague said that Parks cut her teeth on the NY City Irish session scene but was ostracized for not sticking to the script. Closed with a funky cover of Bill Withers Use Me.

Marco Benevento 11/18/22 Spaceland

Marco has been positively reviewed in this blog many times. Unfortunately, the blog was not around when I sat on a young Marco Benevento’s speaker and watched over his shoulder as he madly plunked piano, organ, and all manner of keyboards, including a Playskool Baby, Baby grand at a late night session in a sweaty ski lodge. Onstage with his musical life partner Joe Russo on drums, the Duo, as they were, manned the door at the dawning of the Jam revolution. At that time, a young Marco soaked in a variety of jazz, blues, and pop influences. Fast forward to today, Russo and Benevento head up the Grateful Dead cover outfit JRAD (Joe Russo’s Almost Dead). Occasionally, as on this evening, Marco gets free from JRAD, and takes the stage to do his thing. I’ve likened Marco to a drug thieving Cheshire Cat, but I think he’s more of a cross between Rick Wakeman and Captain Jack Sparrow. Joined onstage by drummer, and fantastic young female bassist, the trio barreled through a set of originals, teases, and some clever covers. Bassist Karina is of indeterminate age. She could be anywhere between 15 and 35, although I did see her  3 years back, so 12 would be ridiculous. There is a 20 year trove of solo material to pull from and teases like Suzanne Vega’s Tom’s Diner were welcome. Some excellent almost disco passages made good use of the muscular bass. Show highlight was a frenetic cover of Harry Nilsson’s Jump Into The Fire.

Qwanqwa 11/16/22 Cafe 9

 Billed as an Ethiopian Supergroup, Qwanqwa is a little multicultural. Electric violinist Kathe Hostetter was in Boston based African outfit Debo Band, and was decidedly Caucasian. The remaining 4 from Ethiopia played electric Krar, bass electric krar, “traditional drums/percussion”, and vocals. The sound was back alley Addis Ababa trance funk. The krar looked like a table leg stuck into a Kleenex box and had one string. The man played it with a tree saw shaped bow and got amazing tones with vibrato. The electric bass krar was even better, it looked liked a cigar box welded to an upholstery-free frame of a wing back dining room chair. It had six strings, and the man used his fret hand fingers between the strings to slur amazing bass riffs. “ Traditional drums” was a sit down drum kit with a series of toms and mini congas. The diminutive drummer was all over this set, with sticks or hands, he propelled the groove. The singer was a fireplug, and reminded me of Chaka Khan, in regard to her hair:body ratio. She sang in her native tongue and gyrated and vibrated when she was involved. She had a chair that she’d retreat to on off tunes, which was good, her contribution was tiring. The electric violin, is an odd duck. At times I got a whiff of 90s crew Afro-Celt Soundsystem, others, the vibe was down right Jeanlucpontyesque in a gypsy trance style. The highlight was Mela Mela, translated as “we can solve this together”, a drum centric rave, capped with ululating yelps. I can’t help but think of the Warren Smith rockabilly chestnut Ubangi Stomp, wherein the protagonist, a hapless, slightly racist sailor gets entranced by “the natives doin an odd lookin skip”. When the Captain yells “son we gotta go”, to which the sailor responds “ that’s awright, you go right ahead, I’m gonna Ubangi Stomp till I roll over dead” Now I’m not implying Kathe is a racist or a sailor, but she has been bitten by the rhythm. It was nice to note that their touring makes an effort to play to underserved communities. Highly recommend this group, traditional yet modern sound.

Mike Doughty 11/5/22 Harbor Park

When this show first hit the radar, I chided Manic Productions as to their wisdom of having an outdoor show on the 5th of November. Seventy degree day and gorgeous weather, thanks climate change. Mike Doughty, the recovering heroin addict, the door man at The Knitting Factory at the height of the No-Wave downtown movement, and oh yeah, front man for the seminal beat-groove-funk vehicle Soul Coughing. The star burned bright for SC, 3 or 4 critically acclaimed slabs of literate pop released between 94-98. While Mike claims the SC experiment “almost killed him”, it sure produced a body of work that was tapped on this evening. Doughty is joined on stage by longtime compatriot Andrew “Scrap” Livingston on guitar. The two barrel through screwed down workings of SC songs and chestnuts from Doughty’s excellent post SC solo career. The arrangements were a treat for a super fan like me, never straying into the kitschy MTV Unplugged realm. Setlist included  27 Jennifers, White Lexus, Tremendous Brunettes, Shunned and Falsified, St Louise Is Listening, Blame, Circles, Super Bon Bon, Soft Serve,, Lazybones, How Many Cans, Sugar Free Jazz.  He played my favorite anthemic ode “Busting Up A Starbucks”, which I urge all readers to give a spin. Ended the show with an excellent “I Hear The Bells” and encored with “True Dreams of Wichita”. Doughty is a wordsmith and had some fun with an AI story writing app. An industrious artist, it seems that Mike has been writing a song a week and posting on his website for free dissemination. Thanks to Manic for believing in the weather and delivering an excellent free outdoor show.

Loudon Wainwright 10/27/22 Wall St. Theater Norwalk

 It’s been a long time since Loudon struck novelty gold with “Dead Skunk In The Middle of the Road”. Just turned 75, and a grandpa for the fourth time, Loudon brought the comic troubadour to this renovated historic venue. I’ve followed his career intently since the release of History in 1992, a near perfect recording by my estimation. The comedy camouflages biting lyricism  as it pertains to family and relationships. A notorious partier and womanizer, Loudon grew up in Westchester, the product of a country club 60s upbringing, in fact he opened with Westchester County. The setlist touched on most of his career but left out some obvious gems. No matter, I was happy to be in the front row for this solo performance. The setlist included Be Careful There’s a Baby in The House, The Swimming Song, The Picture (about his sister), I’d Rather Be Lonely, Four Mirrors, White Winos (about his mom), The Shit Song, High Wide and Handsome (from the Charlie Poole project), My Meds, One Wish, Family Vacation, and Lifetime Achievement. Loudon played acoustic, banjo, and even some ukulele. At one point, he picked up the iPad and read a hilarious description as to his wishes for his memorial service. As with any comedy inflected performance, audience “participation” plays a role. Whether it be heckling, or calling out song titles, you just know it will happen. On this evening, we were seated near the cackler ( not to be confused with her male counterpart, the bloviator). The cackler cackled, chimed in, and apparently knew Loudon. At one point, Loudon had to de-cackle this woman, a good song in the making. Closed with an excellent version of Primrose Hill.