Hoxeyville: my second most highly-anticipated MI festival of this summer. With a fairly impressive lineup (blues superstar Buddy Guy is headlining) including plenty of Kalamazoo, regional, and Michigan acts, it really should be a fantastic time. Representin' the 'zoo:
[Greensky Bluegrass]
Kalamazoo's most prominent bluegrass band (one of our most prominent bands period, I think) and a band I have seen and enjoyed on several occasions, Greensky Bluegrass, is a staple at Hoxeyville, and jam-scene royalty in Kzoo and throughout Michigan. With a name like Greensky Bluegrass, you might be expecting a gimmicky, predictable, wedding-reception-bluegrass band, and, truth be told, you wouldn't be too terribly far off: ranging from country-folk, Willie Nelsonesque road balladry (check out "200 Miles From Montana", available on their Myspace) to the stereotypical modern bluegrass sound (a la mainstream soundalike Nickel Creek), this band doesn't leave their audience with much reading to be done between the proverbial lines.
Having said that, Greensky is the only Kzoo act to have ever played at the festival-leviathan Rothbury, these guys are definitely at the forefront of the roots/ bluegrass/ Americana scene in Michigan and throughout the Midwest.
A rundown on their sound: Greensky utilize the aforementioned mainstream/ modern bluegrass sound throughout their set, occasionally flowing into fluent, mountainy jams that are really somewhat exciting (if you're into that sort of thing); the essence of which they sometimes manage to capture in their recorded work (check out "In The Rafters," also on Myspace). I have to say that they tend to play it kind of safe; this is the kind of bluegrass that you really have heard before. But they know what they do, they do it well and with a certain amount of (country) swagger, and an attention-getting precision. If you can't get enough jingly, standup-bass-driven, dobro-decorated, steering-wheel-tapping bluegrass, do check out Greensky; while they're probably not enough to convert someone who isn't already a bluegrass believer, they're sure to make a tasty treat for the devout up at Hoxeyville.
[Who Hit John?]
I saw Who Hit John? on Night Two of Barking Tuna Fest in October alongside Michael Beauchamp and the Barn Roughs, as well as Th' Legendary Shack Shakers, and I am stoked that they are going to be up at Hoxeyville (as well as fellow [non-Kalamazoo] Tuna veterans, Airborne or Aquatic) and stoked to be listening to them again.
While Who Hit John? is quite a bit on the country side of things-- a side I'm firmly on the record for being NOT on-- they're a hell of a lot of fun to listen to; not the "supernatural" experience I had hoped for, but they're extremely listenable, even to me. They are reminiscent of 'zoo country comrades Brother Bill (only a little more sober and considerably less hyper).
Though Who Hit John? was not on my list of noted best (or worst) Barking Tuna bands, after consulting my infamous Rod Stewart notebook of show reviews and revisiting my notes, I rediscovered that I had an awesome time at their show (of course). Their lively, clap-along canter makes for a hell of a listening experience, whether live or recorded; they swim flawlessly through the roots spectrum from straight-up hillbilly ("Cooter Brown") to an organic, almost Celtic sound ("Conscription Man") to a backwater-Baptist, Ozarks goin'-to-meetin' stomp ("The Plan") (all selections are available on their Myspace.)
If you're thinking about catching these guys to get a little taste before Hoxeyville (I know I will be), you're in luck; Who Hit John? has several Kalamazoo dates coming up... consult their 'Space for further details.
And that's kind of it for Kalamazoo bands at Hoxeyville, but I trust that both Greensky and Who Hit John? will represent hardcore. (Figuratively hardcore, of course.) AND, there are tons of other great acts at Hoxeyville, both regional and national.
My faves: EOTO, ekoostik hookah, Airborne or Aquatic (one of my fave Tuna bands), Daisy May, Shout Sister Shout (a Rachel Davis-fronted, Antebellum-gospellish project; I saw them at Kraftbrau ages ago and loved it), Macpodz, UV Hippo, and lots, lots more!!!
Stay tuned for more MI festival previews! And if you need to forget the raging snowstorm outside, just curl up with a pair of headphones, close your eyes, and warm up from the inside out to your favorite festie bands.
Showing posts with label Michael Beauchamp and the Barn Roughs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Michael Beauchamp and the Barn Roughs. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
"Banjo shredders REJOICE! This IS your grandpa's folk music!"
I stood against a cold brick wall, clutching my Rod Stewart notebook against my chest like an airplane-seat flotation device. My glasses were fogging up like the windows of The Strutt itself, which nearly bursting at its proverbial seams with country-hippies, indie-hippies, aging/ old hippies, and an inordinate amount of lesbians (not that there's anything wrong with that). A snowstorm was raging outside as cops pulled people over on Stadium; their blue rollers looked like Christmas lights from where I stood inside the venue; we were jammed wall-to-wall; half- hectic, half- cozy, completely real and completely beautiful. Isn't that why we go to shows in the first place? What more does anyone want than to listen to music and be close to other people?
Nonetheless..
[Chris Dorman]
My associate producer might take issue with this clip, as Chris Dorman is NOT a regional act; however, this was a local show and I'm reviewing it, goddamnit.
Chris Dorman is from Vermont, actually. That's right, the land of Robert Frost (although [nerd sidenote] he was actually born in California); and, incidentally, the epicenter of East Coast neo-hippie culture, complete with a thriving folk-revival scene (and Ben & Jerry's, of course).
Though technically a solo act, he took the stage alongside a bassist, whose upright bass was topped by a knit stocking cap like an unfortunately-proportioned man. Dorman's Michael Stipe-y vocals alongside beautiful, sad, capoed minor chords made for a somewhat interesting-- if not monolithic-- set; broken only by somewhat awkward performer-to-audience half-banter ("I believe in magical creatures... that they sometimes make us do things...") and even-more-awkward audience "participation" numbers (which he admitted to have played for a class of second graders who "kicked some ass at" this particular song) in which we were asked to rub our hands together to make rain sounds.
I shit you not.
Anyway... yeah, Chris Dorman was a little... different. Even for the folk sect. Interesting, intelligent, somewhat charismatic, and, yes, probably a little crazy. Probably not terribly unlike Robert Frost himself. Though I did find myself spacing out and singing "Man On The Moon" in my head quite a bit... and I don't even like REM. He closed with a song called "Family Farm" (available on his Myspace) and I found myself really kind of enjoying it, if not almost in spite of myself; as a mostly-lifelong folk fan I was a little uninspired by Dorman throughout most of his set, but when he let it out on this song-- a folky-sad ballad about mistreating "our land"-- I felt it. Dorman seems a born lyricist: "I was born a farmer's son. My father, he taught me how to sow. Told me that the land could teach me how to grow. If I could keep open my heart, never be apart from the ebb and flow of life, and I still hear the words, the one and only verse he sang before he died: well the land on which we stand is the only thing we have that can withstand the weight of our lives..."
Maybe poetry is in the water out east. I'm pretty much on the next train to Vermont.
[Andru Bemis] {that's really how he spells it}
So I'll get this out of the way right now, because I'm an up-front kind of gal: Andru was by far my favorite part of this show.
To give you a mental image, in my notes from the show tonight I describe Bemis as "Slugworth from Willy Wonka with long hair in a hobo Halloween costume." (I mean that with as much love as possible {I'm trying to be a lot nicer on my blog lately}.)
So... back to the music: Bemis is a VIRTUOSO on the banjo. YOU READ THAT RIGHT! He took the stage behind one of those five-stringed monstrosities on which I can't play anything but Rolling Stones songs (open G tuning-- music nerds, where you at?!) and rocked. the. shit. out. of. it. Honestly: when I watched him play I literally thought to myself, "what is he doing? is he playing through a loop station? is that a sample?" His hands and fingers and wrists and arms all seemed to move almost independently of each other, creating that sought-after banjo rhythm: effervescent, floaty; graceful but percussive. Truly amazing. In fact, it was Bemis' set that inspired the (strange) title of this very article.
But enough about technique. Bemis' music is what I can only describe as authentic-- probably the most "authentic" feeling act I have seen in a long time, if not ever. It made me feel like all the other folk music I hear being performed on a regular basis is Taco Bell, and Bemis is my (hypothetical) Oaxacan-born grandmother's special vegetarian fajitas that she makes only for me, with love in every grain of hand-ground corn tortilla. Hypothetically- speaking, of course (but if only I had a Mexican grandmother).
Anyway. After the glory of the first third or so of his set, he put down the 'jo in favor of a classical 6-string, of which I'm normally a huge fan-- and although Bemis' weird backwoods warble was complemented almost perfectly by the nylonny warmth of classical guitar sound-- but I found myself largely unimpressed by his guitar set (and, by the looks of things, I wasn't the only one; just sayin'). Alas, Bemis ditched the classical for his 5-string, in a glorious tent-revival stomp that brought the room back to life, and ended his set on (ahem) a high note.
Pun intended.
But anyway. I hate to admit this but one of my favorite parts of his set was a cover of "Coat of Many Colors," made famous by the lovely Miss Dolly Parton. Truly beautiful and, magically, without a trace of corniness; the kind of cover that makes me wish he had written it.
Finally, (and please excuse the abounding literary references in this post), indulge me, if you will, in my final praise of Andru Bemis: his ditty "Huck Finn" (you'll understand why I referred to it as a 'ditty' when you hear it). A folk genius AND Mark Twain fan?! My entire being is the intersection of music nerdiness and regular nerdiness and, may I say: Andru Bemis, you have my heart.
[Her Folkiness, Ms. Daisy May]
Excuse my corniness, and my tenancy for all things utterly cliche, but Daisy May Erlewine is folk royalty in Michigan-- I mentioned before that the Strutt was crowded tonight, and may I suffice it to say that an alternate title for this article was "Boogie Records Revival: Country Clusterfuck."
Shit was PACKED-- and rightfully so. While Daisy May is further on the country side of folk than I tend to lean-- if you've never heard her, she sounds like Dolly Parton trying to sound like Alison Krauss-- you can't deny she has a decent following in Kalamazoo and throughout most of the state. And when I say following, I mean, a room packed shoulder-to-shoulder with fans-- not just fans who know the words, fans who listen, eyes closed with prayerlike reverence, emanating a near- palpable energy.
However, honesty is my curse in life so I must say that I was mostly unaffected by Daisy May's set. It was really not until the third song of her set, the absolutely gorgeous ballad "The Shoreline" (up on her Myspace) which she described as "about a trip to Lake Superior in the winter," that I really began to warm up to her set.
Do you remember in "Hustle and Flow" when DJ is talking to Skinny Black, and he's trying to convince Skinny to come back to Memphis? DJ says that in the future, if one day there is nothing left-- no humans, no buildings, no civilization-- you would still be able to put on Skinny Black's first mixtape and know everything you ever needed to know about life in Memphis. WELL... I feel like Daisy May, specifically, the aforementioned "The Shoreline" captures the essence of life in Michigan without ever really even talking about it. Not today, but speaking out of the context of time. Holed up in a hipster haunt as the snow falls, standing by myself with a Short's Soft Parade, listening to good old-fashioned midwestern folk-revival, it actually felt alright to be from Michigan.
Even Kalamazoo.
Sometimes I don't really hate this place that much.
Anyway. I mentioned before that I really wasn't that into Daisy May's set. I'm kind of a fan of her guitar style: plucky; almost harplike on most of her songs. But other than the aforementioned "The Shoreline," and another standout piece, the gorgeous "Shine On" (which I first heard as a cover by Rachael Davis at the Kraftbrau many summers ago), I couldn't get as into Daisy May as I wanted to. I love what she does and I think she's a really talented songwriter; however, as I said before she is a little country for me. If I go folk, I go all the way-- bathtub moonshine folk or no dice. That's just how I roll. Daisy May even used to be like that, but she's gotten a little Nashvilley as of late. For my taste.
I certainly enjoyed myself, though, as you have probably been able to glean thus far. The best part of the show, overall, was the hootenanny-style jam sesh that culminated after Daisy May's set. May invited Michael Beauchamp and (the adorable) Graham Parsons (who had both played sets before I got there. rats!) for a rousing rendition (I love that phrase) of Neil Young's "Only Love Can Break Your Heart." A half-in-the-bag hippie syndicate improvised a standing-room for drunken slow-dances and a singalong to rival the "Tiny Dancer" scene in Almost Famous. Honestly.
Anyway. It's 3 AM (I got all excited and had to write this right after the show).
Sweet dreams. Let it snow.
I think I almost fell in love with winter tonight. Not sure how that happened.
Hugs,
-thejunkie
Nonetheless..
[Chris Dorman]
My associate producer might take issue with this clip, as Chris Dorman is NOT a regional act; however, this was a local show and I'm reviewing it, goddamnit.
Chris Dorman is from Vermont, actually. That's right, the land of Robert Frost (although [nerd sidenote] he was actually born in California); and, incidentally, the epicenter of East Coast neo-hippie culture, complete with a thriving folk-revival scene (and Ben & Jerry's, of course).
Though technically a solo act, he took the stage alongside a bassist, whose upright bass was topped by a knit stocking cap like an unfortunately-proportioned man. Dorman's Michael Stipe-y vocals alongside beautiful, sad, capoed minor chords made for a somewhat interesting-- if not monolithic-- set; broken only by somewhat awkward performer-to-audience half-banter ("I believe in magical creatures... that they sometimes make us do things...") and even-more-awkward audience "participation" numbers (which he admitted to have played for a class of second graders who "kicked some ass at" this particular song) in which we were asked to rub our hands together to make rain sounds.
I shit you not.
Anyway... yeah, Chris Dorman was a little... different. Even for the folk sect. Interesting, intelligent, somewhat charismatic, and, yes, probably a little crazy. Probably not terribly unlike Robert Frost himself. Though I did find myself spacing out and singing "Man On The Moon" in my head quite a bit... and I don't even like REM. He closed with a song called "Family Farm" (available on his Myspace) and I found myself really kind of enjoying it, if not almost in spite of myself; as a mostly-lifelong folk fan I was a little uninspired by Dorman throughout most of his set, but when he let it out on this song-- a folky-sad ballad about mistreating "our land"-- I felt it. Dorman seems a born lyricist: "I was born a farmer's son. My father, he taught me how to sow. Told me that the land could teach me how to grow. If I could keep open my heart, never be apart from the ebb and flow of life, and I still hear the words, the one and only verse he sang before he died: well the land on which we stand is the only thing we have that can withstand the weight of our lives..."
Maybe poetry is in the water out east. I'm pretty much on the next train to Vermont.
[Andru Bemis] {that's really how he spells it}
So I'll get this out of the way right now, because I'm an up-front kind of gal: Andru was by far my favorite part of this show.
To give you a mental image, in my notes from the show tonight I describe Bemis as "Slugworth from Willy Wonka with long hair in a hobo Halloween costume." (I mean that with as much love as possible {I'm trying to be a lot nicer on my blog lately}.)
So... back to the music: Bemis is a VIRTUOSO on the banjo. YOU READ THAT RIGHT! He took the stage behind one of those five-stringed monstrosities on which I can't play anything but Rolling Stones songs (open G tuning-- music nerds, where you at?!) and rocked. the. shit. out. of. it. Honestly: when I watched him play I literally thought to myself, "what is he doing? is he playing through a loop station? is that a sample?" His hands and fingers and wrists and arms all seemed to move almost independently of each other, creating that sought-after banjo rhythm: effervescent, floaty; graceful but percussive. Truly amazing. In fact, it was Bemis' set that inspired the (strange) title of this very article.
But enough about technique. Bemis' music is what I can only describe as authentic-- probably the most "authentic" feeling act I have seen in a long time, if not ever. It made me feel like all the other folk music I hear being performed on a regular basis is Taco Bell, and Bemis is my (hypothetical) Oaxacan-born grandmother's special vegetarian fajitas that she makes only for me, with love in every grain of hand-ground corn tortilla. Hypothetically- speaking, of course (but if only I had a Mexican grandmother).
Anyway. After the glory of the first third or so of his set, he put down the 'jo in favor of a classical 6-string, of which I'm normally a huge fan-- and although Bemis' weird backwoods warble was complemented almost perfectly by the nylonny warmth of classical guitar sound-- but I found myself largely unimpressed by his guitar set (and, by the looks of things, I wasn't the only one; just sayin'). Alas, Bemis ditched the classical for his 5-string, in a glorious tent-revival stomp that brought the room back to life, and ended his set on (ahem) a high note.
Pun intended.
But anyway. I hate to admit this but one of my favorite parts of his set was a cover of "Coat of Many Colors," made famous by the lovely Miss Dolly Parton. Truly beautiful and, magically, without a trace of corniness; the kind of cover that makes me wish he had written it.
Finally, (and please excuse the abounding literary references in this post), indulge me, if you will, in my final praise of Andru Bemis: his ditty "Huck Finn" (you'll understand why I referred to it as a 'ditty' when you hear it). A folk genius AND Mark Twain fan?! My entire being is the intersection of music nerdiness and regular nerdiness and, may I say: Andru Bemis, you have my heart.
[Her Folkiness, Ms. Daisy May]
Excuse my corniness, and my tenancy for all things utterly cliche, but Daisy May Erlewine is folk royalty in Michigan-- I mentioned before that the Strutt was crowded tonight, and may I suffice it to say that an alternate title for this article was "Boogie Records Revival: Country Clusterfuck."
Shit was PACKED-- and rightfully so. While Daisy May is further on the country side of folk than I tend to lean-- if you've never heard her, she sounds like Dolly Parton trying to sound like Alison Krauss-- you can't deny she has a decent following in Kalamazoo and throughout most of the state. And when I say following, I mean, a room packed shoulder-to-shoulder with fans-- not just fans who know the words, fans who listen, eyes closed with prayerlike reverence, emanating a near- palpable energy.
However, honesty is my curse in life so I must say that I was mostly unaffected by Daisy May's set. It was really not until the third song of her set, the absolutely gorgeous ballad "The Shoreline" (up on her Myspace) which she described as "about a trip to Lake Superior in the winter," that I really began to warm up to her set.
Do you remember in "Hustle and Flow" when DJ is talking to Skinny Black, and he's trying to convince Skinny to come back to Memphis? DJ says that in the future, if one day there is nothing left-- no humans, no buildings, no civilization-- you would still be able to put on Skinny Black's first mixtape and know everything you ever needed to know about life in Memphis. WELL... I feel like Daisy May, specifically, the aforementioned "The Shoreline" captures the essence of life in Michigan without ever really even talking about it. Not today, but speaking out of the context of time. Holed up in a hipster haunt as the snow falls, standing by myself with a Short's Soft Parade, listening to good old-fashioned midwestern folk-revival, it actually felt alright to be from Michigan.
Even Kalamazoo.
Sometimes I don't really hate this place that much.
Anyway. I mentioned before that I really wasn't that into Daisy May's set. I'm kind of a fan of her guitar style: plucky; almost harplike on most of her songs. But other than the aforementioned "The Shoreline," and another standout piece, the gorgeous "Shine On" (which I first heard as a cover by Rachael Davis at the Kraftbrau many summers ago), I couldn't get as into Daisy May as I wanted to. I love what she does and I think she's a really talented songwriter; however, as I said before she is a little country for me. If I go folk, I go all the way-- bathtub moonshine folk or no dice. That's just how I roll. Daisy May even used to be like that, but she's gotten a little Nashvilley as of late. For my taste.
I certainly enjoyed myself, though, as you have probably been able to glean thus far. The best part of the show, overall, was the hootenanny-style jam sesh that culminated after Daisy May's set. May invited Michael Beauchamp and (the adorable) Graham Parsons (who had both played sets before I got there. rats!) for a rousing rendition (I love that phrase) of Neil Young's "Only Love Can Break Your Heart." A half-in-the-bag hippie syndicate improvised a standing-room for drunken slow-dances and a singalong to rival the "Tiny Dancer" scene in Almost Famous. Honestly.
Anyway. It's 3 AM (I got all excited and had to write this right after the show).
Sweet dreams. Let it snow.
I think I almost fell in love with winter tonight. Not sure how that happened.
Hugs,
-thejunkie
Thursday, October 08, 2009
Barking Tuna 2009 NIGHT TWO PREVIEW!
Night Two: Fri 10/09/09 at Papa Pete's
The Legendary Shack Shakers (Nashville) {folk punk} [http://www.myspace.com/legendaryshackshakers]
You might have noticed that I categorized this band as "folk punk." If that sounds strange, it's because it is. While I love a good experimental band, they kind of sound like this: a hillbilly and a Russian met in a traveling circus, had a child, homeschooled it, and only allowed it to listen to Dropkick Murphys and watch Tim Burton movies. Infer what you will.
Sidenote on Nashville: while it calls itself "The Music City," I did fairly extensive research on Nashville's music scene for this blurb alone, to try to get a context for this band, and honestly didn't find a whole lot that didn't fall under the country/ blues/ etc category. There are some indie bands but, otherwise, not a whole lot going on. So while I give this band props for stepping out of their crowd, and while I have a certain amount of faith in WIDR's music selections for Tuna (especially after Night One) I'm not real optimistic about this show. But I'm going, and I have an open mind, and we'll see.
Who Hit John? (Kalamazoo) {roots/ americana} [http://www.myspace.com/whohitjohn5]
So, you have to know that moments after I first listened to this band on Myspace, my internet browser completely melted off the screen and left me with that excruciating helpless panic that only a computer malfunction can bring. Regardless, their first listed track, "Till The Last Dog Dies" KEPT PLAYING without so much as a skip between jingly banjo-and-fiddle stylings. Because of this, I'm led to believe that this band has supernatural powers, and am expecting a supernatural show. I hope they live up to it. (Just kidding. But seriously. And does anyone know anything about computers? Because I think mine is broken.)
Anyway. With names like Hamdog and Django, I'm sure these folks know how to party, and you guys already know how I love a good bluegrass show. With character-centric, party-oriented jams about gettin' drunk and causin' trouble, Who Hit John? plays it safe: not unappealing, but nothing we haven't heard before. With the right energy tonight, I'm expecting this show to go over fairly well. Personally, I'm kind of looking forward to seeing Papa Pete's-- a predominately rock/ metal venue-- full of skeletal vegans with dreadlocks and Peoples' Food Co-Op tshirts. I think it will be a more anthropological experience than anything. And hopefullly the music will be ok, too.
Michael Beauchamp and the Barn Roughs (Kalamazoo) {folk} [http://www.myspace.com/michaelbeauchampmusic]
After spending some time with Michael Beauchamp's music, I'm starting to think that what I took at first for a stripped-down, decidedly low-fi sound is actually just a bunk live recording. On one hand, I'm a little annoyed, but when I put my music snobbery aside and just pay attention to the music (when I'm not distracted by people coughing in the background [PS-- we're onto you!]) it's actually really good, pure, old-fashioned folk music. Like... old old-fashioned folk music. While he has the requisite Bob Dylan-influence-mention on his Myspace, there really isn't a whole lot-- if any-- 60's-folk influence that I can determine. I almost want to [please, let's not have the conversation about 'the impossibility of Bob Dylan NOT influencing an artist']. But Beauchamp has such an unbelievable backwoods purity to his songwriting-- and his voice itself-- that simply wasn't present in the 60s, when folk was so much more tense and aware; he seems to transcend this with a unique, reductionist take on music: letting it speak for itself. His warbly voice and wavelike strumming seem to lean against a beautiful croon of traditional fiddle, and the overall effect is simple, not overwhelming, but hauntingly pristine. Beauchamp, etc is probably my pick for tonight.
The Legendary Shack Shakers (Nashville) {folk punk} [http://www.myspace.com/legendaryshackshakers]
You might have noticed that I categorized this band as "folk punk." If that sounds strange, it's because it is. While I love a good experimental band, they kind of sound like this: a hillbilly and a Russian met in a traveling circus, had a child, homeschooled it, and only allowed it to listen to Dropkick Murphys and watch Tim Burton movies. Infer what you will.
Sidenote on Nashville: while it calls itself "The Music City," I did fairly extensive research on Nashville's music scene for this blurb alone, to try to get a context for this band, and honestly didn't find a whole lot that didn't fall under the country/ blues/ etc category. There are some indie bands but, otherwise, not a whole lot going on. So while I give this band props for stepping out of their crowd, and while I have a certain amount of faith in WIDR's music selections for Tuna (especially after Night One) I'm not real optimistic about this show. But I'm going, and I have an open mind, and we'll see.
Who Hit John? (Kalamazoo) {roots/ americana} [http://www.myspace.com/whohitjohn5]
So, you have to know that moments after I first listened to this band on Myspace, my internet browser completely melted off the screen and left me with that excruciating helpless panic that only a computer malfunction can bring. Regardless, their first listed track, "Till The Last Dog Dies" KEPT PLAYING without so much as a skip between jingly banjo-and-fiddle stylings. Because of this, I'm led to believe that this band has supernatural powers, and am expecting a supernatural show. I hope they live up to it. (Just kidding. But seriously. And does anyone know anything about computers? Because I think mine is broken.)
Anyway. With names like Hamdog and Django, I'm sure these folks know how to party, and you guys already know how I love a good bluegrass show. With character-centric, party-oriented jams about gettin' drunk and causin' trouble, Who Hit John? plays it safe: not unappealing, but nothing we haven't heard before. With the right energy tonight, I'm expecting this show to go over fairly well. Personally, I'm kind of looking forward to seeing Papa Pete's-- a predominately rock/ metal venue-- full of skeletal vegans with dreadlocks and Peoples' Food Co-Op tshirts. I think it will be a more anthropological experience than anything. And hopefullly the music will be ok, too.
Michael Beauchamp and the Barn Roughs (Kalamazoo) {folk} [http://www.myspace.com/michaelbeauchampmusic]
After spending some time with Michael Beauchamp's music, I'm starting to think that what I took at first for a stripped-down, decidedly low-fi sound is actually just a bunk live recording. On one hand, I'm a little annoyed, but when I put my music snobbery aside and just pay attention to the music (when I'm not distracted by people coughing in the background [PS-- we're onto you!]) it's actually really good, pure, old-fashioned folk music. Like... old old-fashioned folk music. While he has the requisite Bob Dylan-influence-mention on his Myspace, there really isn't a whole lot-- if any-- 60's-folk influence that I can determine. I almost want to [please, let's not have the conversation about 'the impossibility of Bob Dylan NOT influencing an artist']. But Beauchamp has such an unbelievable backwoods purity to his songwriting-- and his voice itself-- that simply wasn't present in the 60s, when folk was so much more tense and aware; he seems to transcend this with a unique, reductionist take on music: letting it speak for itself. His warbly voice and wavelike strumming seem to lean against a beautiful croon of traditional fiddle, and the overall effect is simple, not overwhelming, but hauntingly pristine. Beauchamp, etc is probably my pick for tonight.
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