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.