In the Shadows of Mo-town

Number Nine, number nine, number nine, number nine...

Bolted out of town yesterday afternoon with my friend and neighbor to head to Modesto, the quaint Valley city known for, well, I'm not sure what Modesto is known for now. George Lucas hails from there and gave us American Graffiti, which is supposed to be the story of his youth. Formed, like so many Valley cities, on a grid, little Modesto has now been the location of two great concerts this last year.
Unlike April's wonderful performance by Arlo Guthrie and brood, this night was for rock and roll; Jackie Greene and his Band were performing, a writer of good songs, a singer of fine voice and a guitar player of top-notch talent. I've had his "American Myth" since its release and it's a quite good record. I caught him last year performing with Gov't Mule and Jackie pushed and directed Warren Haynes, the Mule's leader, as Billy Preston did with those English guys forty-someodd years ago. Opening for Jackie was, of course, the one and only Truth & Salvage Co.
We met the Holts, the greatest concert-goers in the land and two genuine souls. Tony and Mary are friends that distance unfortunately keeps me from but I'm very thankful for the opportunities such as last night to have with them. They make the show. Mary brought with them her niece and husband, two nice people whose company we enjoyed.
I knew that this wasn't going to be a relaxed "we're not at the Fillmore but we'll make do" night when we arrived at the restaurant and were heckled for being late, for looking the way I do, for the last time we were together and what they already had planned. Hugs and laughs and a pitcher of some wonderful local porter and the evening was underway within minutes.
My excitement for T&S and the porter seemed to kick in instantly and here I was, recounting my stories of the last nine months, talking a mile a minute, making a fool of myself and probably over-selling a band that everyone should be listening to but doesn't and anyway, no one likes a pushy salesman. I tried mellowing but just couldn't, and I figured that if anything, the opening forty-five minute set would at least shut me up and no one would have to hear me talk. We scarfed down dinner, a wonderful pizza, and hoofed it to the venue, a marvelous little mid-1930s movie house with a stage and sound system to boot. The audience was typical Valley; this is by no means meant as a put-down but a simple observation: Valley concert-goers are decidedly older than Bay Area concert-goers and much more mellow. They sit through an entire performance, appearing stoic and seemingly bored but then whoop and holler and show their appreciation with great ovations after every song. Living in the Valley long enough to know this, I've always wondered, however, if traveling acts do. Bands must think, "Oh, crimony, it's the first song and we've lost the crowd already. How can we be rocking and they still be sitting?"
That's what I felt for the first four or so songs last night for the guys. Arriving late, we didn't run into them like I have in the past but I did pass one of the guys in the powder room and he was in great spirits. We joked and I saw later that plugging in, they all appeared relaxed and in fine form. They sang great, played well, bantered back and forth both during and between numbers and were giving us a good performance. Unfortunately, one could tell the band was on a strict curfew, as they moved through all of the numbers at a speed faster than usual. Not necessarily a problem, especially since the audience wanted fast-paced rocking songs. They politely clapped at the end of the first couple of songs and did what I've seen at every show T&S play: slowly, people start looking at the concert posters to catch the name of the opening band, they start tapping their feet, bobbing their heads and by the eighth slot, they're screaming and cheering like they've met the Truth and have been Saved. Secondly, a couple of the instrument mics weren't the best; Walker's accordion, which gives their songs such a beautiful and rootsy sound, came through like it was hooked up on a cry-baby pedal (to quite a nifty little effect but not what should have been). An eleven-song set, they covered the album minus "Brothers, Sons and Daughters". The highlight of the evening, in the fifth slot, was "Rise Up", which tore out of the gates like a thoroughbred racehorse hell-bent on the trophy. The harmonies locked, the instruments blended and when Scott and Tim turned to hit that amazing twin-guitar harmony, the hair on my arms were on end and I was grinning from ear to ear just knowing that this audience of a couple of hundred people were witnessing perfect magic on stage by six guys giving three hundred percent on stage. The roars said it all.
At the end of their set, the crowd in no way gave an obligatory ovation; it was avidly cheering the guys. People were turned on and I saw more vinyl and cd sales than I'd seen at even bigger shows. Let's hope those people go to their friends and say, "hey, man, check this disc out and listen to these guys!" I walked up and Tim gave me a handshake and a setlist (sidenote: my William Miller packrat collection; my cognac box full of my most prized vinyl and memorabilia - hand bills, an autographed magazine from Susan Tedeschi, several drum sticks from the Allman Brothers Band, my slew of back stage passes and other knick-knacks. Of late, it's been joined with posters, more handbills, newspaper ads, several setlist sheets and other stuff that I've collected just from T&S; a nice little scrapbook one day for my kids). I met up with my friends in the lobby and we waited for the band to hit the merch table for meets-and-greets.
I brought my camera and took some lame performance photos but wanted this time some personals of the guys and myself. In the lobby, I wanted to hear my friend and Mary's family's responses and thanfully they really dug the show. Relieved, for sure. Now it was time for them to come out. Slowly and surely they did, so I introduced the group to the band and that's when Mary performed her magic: she became the photography coodinator, directing traffic for each photo, working the band members over and getting them to pose for countless pictures that were of varied quality (the focus is off on my dumb camera); nonetheless, we all had some great laughs, I snapped probably twenty pictures and everyone walked away with autographs aplenty.
Then the lights dimmed, signaling the start of Jackie's set. My friend bee-lined it into the theater but I just couldn't leave. I was having too much fun with the guys and after buying them a round of beers, we hung out. Why I find their company more valuable than concert headliner performances is probably pretty clear but since I could hear what Jackie was playing, I was perfectly cool in the lobby.
I eventually made it into the theater after the guys had packed up and left and caught quite a performance by Jackie Greene and his band. Many Dead covers and some sublime soloing. A satisfying though short set. Jackie even mentioned the impending curfew and called it after ninety minutes.
We all reconvened in the lobby afterwards. Had I had the energy (not to mention time and money) I'd have gone back to their hotel to hang out more and chat. We always end up laughing so much our sides hurt and as we stood under the blackened marquee as the rain began to fall, this night's experience ranked up there with the best of them. As we parted ways, I felt sad as I always do, that our time was brief. Always the next show, right? After arriving in my driveway an hour or so later, with the rain now coming down quite heavily, I took my jacket off, smiled up at the clouds and danced for several minutes to the music in my head and the memories of another great night.

Truth & Salvage Co.'s set:

Hail Hail
101
Heart Like a Wheel
Welcome to L.A.
Rise Up
Old Piano (nice, since I hadn't heard it since July)
Call Back
Jump the Ship (the BEST performance of this song; solid with voices at their best)
She Really Does It For Me
See Her
Pure Mountain Angel

Word has it they're playing a club in Oakland the first week in December. Like white on rice, baby. Thanks, Tony and Mary, thanks neighbor and thank you, T&S. My ninth show in a year, tied for second place for the most shows by a single band. Not bad for ten months!

Broken Arrow

Had a ticket for today's Bridge School Benefit concert. My friend and I (smartly) chose to pass on the day, with the rain falling all throughout the afternoon and my house needing a good straightening-up. Had I gone, I'd still be there watching the headliner and I'm just not ready to burn the candle at both ends just yet. The family was hit with the stomach flu all week and thankfully, I was the only one not cursed with the dreaded bug. I'm still fighting a cold and have been sleeping little due to my little ones' being sick in the nights. While I didn't go, knowing I'm missing a reunited Buffalo Springfield is pretty tough. So, to recognize the day, I've been spinning:

Buffalo Springfield - epon and BS Again
Judi Collins - Who Knows Where the Time Goes (with Stills all over the album. A lost classic)
CSN - epon
SS - Manassas
Arlo Guthrie - Hobo's Lullaby
Richie Havens - Something Else, Again, R.P.H., 1983
Cat Stevens - G.H.
Van - Moondance
Big Star - #1 Record, Radio City

This Friday, I'm be shooting to Modesto to catch Truth & Salvage open up for Jackie Greene. This will be one tremendous show. I caught Greene with Gov't Mule last year and he's been on my radar since NPR fell all over itself reviewing "American Myth" his first major release. Live, he's edgier and looser than on record, in which he can sometimes be slightly too polished for my tastes. Still a great young musician. Hoping that No. 9 will be the best as it's the last for 2010.

Jester, Steal Another Crown

Dear Bob,

I'm writing this letter out of frustration. I'm a grown man, just as adult as the other guy and hung up on the past, even more than others. But honestly, you're killing me. I'm a dad, a professional, an amateur musician and one who does all he can to keep every next day to be just as reliable and sane as the next. I hate most businesses, gimics and the re-packaging of previous trends.

And here I am, asking you, for my sanity, to please stop it. Stop what you're doing. I implore you. You're killing me. Yes, you're killing me. Your juvenile, wily, two-bit, pompous image. Your trash. Your leftovers. Sloppy seconds.

It's your vault dump. The discarding of old trash, nearly fifty years in age, from an early-twenties little snot who thought that his whiny poetry was better than anyone's and worth hearing like it was worth listening to. I just received Volume IX of The Bootleg Series, demos from 1962-1964. Demos. Incomplete songs; audio comp-book stylings. And yet, why can't I stop listening to them? Why do I feel like I've missed out on the greatest acoustic recordings of the best singer no one's ever heard? Why do I feel like I'm spying on you? Why do your songs, even the non-descript ones, continue to haunt me, in their execution and delivery, make me feel inferior and humbled and awe-struck? Could I have touched the hem of your garments in those early Village days? Would it have worked? Or would you have told me the truth, knowing that you were really lying and just waiting for me to discover the lie?

I hate you. Leave me alone. Go away. Why can't you leave? God, I want to borrow your muse for just three minutes.

Volume 9 is truly amazing. Really? Stripped acoustic early Bob? And it works like they're the blueprints of future masterpieces and roadmaps. I'm only halfway throug this treasure trove and while this is not 'great' music, it's part of the greatest music and anything a part of the greatest is worthy of acquiring. I'll be listening to this for weeks and revisiting Bob's entire catalogue again for months. And the addendum, the 'throwaway' 1963 concert is worth the price of admission. Anything from this era, from pre-'plug-in' up through the accident is life-changing, even forty-five years in the past. The only thing that will top the releasings of more of this era's music will be the music from 1967-1969, especially the Basement Tapes. Those will never see the light of day, so issues of these are the best we'll see. Thanks, Bob. You're the best.

Down In San Diego Way...

The trip to my brother's family was amazing. Three days of thunder and lightning and the opportunity to read New York. The kids played in the backyard and I drank coffee all morning with my hair pulled back and pined for the chance to watch baseball. Mellencamp's cd will now remind me of our wonderful trip just as Moondance did ten years ago.
My brother wished to take me out for my birthday and my present to him was to Soundwave, a club down along Mission Beach. Little did I know, my brother caught the Black Crowes there in around '98 and he was familiar with the area. Truth & Salvage Co. (or, as advertised, "Truth & Savage Co.") were on the bill and I told my brother that he'd be in for a treat.
We made our way to the venue but learned that the gig didn't start for nearly an hour later and that an opening act was coming first. We walked around and ran into a couple of the guys who were strolling outside. The smell of salt and the droning of the waves soothed the already mellow mood I was in. My brother and I chatted with the guys about their recent tour, life on the road, song writing and even farming. I walked away with a deeper appreciation for everyone's personal philosophies and thanked them again for how well I'd been treated these last six months.
The guys hit the stage around a quarter to ten and by the time they tuned and roared into "Hail Hail", the venue was packed with people. So this is what a near-hometown crowd is like, I thought. Girls danced, heads rocked and the Truth & Salvage Co. played a note-perfect fifty minute set brought raucous cheers and roars of appreciation for each song played. They covered most of the album, which included "Brothers, Sons and Daughters" with an amazing re-working of the song's bridge. The whole time, I snapped photos and thankfully the stupid camera was in fine working form. Halfway through the set, I was in for a total surprise, when, as the band broke into "Giant", Scott Kinnebrew announced to the crowd, "this song goes out to our good friend, Paul Taylor." (Aside: if I may be totally narcissistic, and why not? it's my blog for Pete's sake, that was just about the apex of my concert-going experience. Even my usually-stoic brother dug it). "Giant" plowed into their usual four-song closer and as Walker stood to sing "Pure Mountain Angel", the looks of the band showed that they were into that night and the crowd that loved their music. As Scott, Tim and Bill gathered again around the mic to back Walker's lead, this road-tested band demonstrated that, beyond the sweat-soaked shirts and looks of exhaustion and exhilaration, the Truth & Salvage Co. were there for us to give their hearts into one final song. They showed the appreciative crowd that despite the thousands of miles traveled in that damned van; for the countless nights in second-rate hotel rooms and greasy spoon dives; the time away from loved ones, girl friends and wives and home; opening for many bands that while more well-known, paled in energy and talent; that for tonight, their music was the most important thing in the world. Those eleven songs showed us who they were, as musicians and men, and that those songs, like all works of art that matter, have become bigger than they and that the real power in rock and roll comes from when entire venues filled with music-loving people understand and know that same truth.

Won't you sing it again? You bet. In my car. And my classroom. And at the next concert, the loudest in the place.

Thankfully, I was the only one who made an absolute fool of myself afterwards, back-slapping and whooping it up when I caught up with them after the set. My brother, Mr. Gibraltar in emotional composure, was knocked out by the band and the set. It's always wonderful to turn someone on to something new and thrilling, and the look on my brother's face showed that these guys had just spun his top.

Here I am now, at home, typing this while I should be creating Quarter Two seating charts and a pop quiz for my unsuspecting eleventh-graders, while T&S get ready to pull out of South Carolina for another grinding drive to the next gig. Not sure which band has nailed the best road trip music but Jackson Browne's "Running On Empty" rings pretty true, with the great line from the penultimate song, "The Load Out":

We've got to drive all night and do a show in Chicago
Or Detroit, I don't know
We do so many shows in a row
And these towns all look the same
We just pass the time in our hotel rooms
And wander 'round backstage
Till those lights come up and we hear that crowd
And we remember why we came

May this ring as true for them as it has for me. Another amazing set. Again, where's the press for these guys? Truth & Salvage Co. are the best. You owe it to yourselves. Hope to see you at the next gig.

Welcome Back, Kotter

Ready to return from a two-week break. Well rested? Not really. A week's vacation in San Diego was just nearly perfect, including three days of rain which made for relaxation, lots of reading time and opportunities for the cousins to play for hours on end. Was actually able to read my birthday present in its entirety, New York, the novel, at a whopping 860 pages. Wonderful book; a review is deserved. An amazing performance by the Truth & Salvage Co. on Friday, October 1st which will surely be reviewed in the next couple of days and lots of listening. Am I ready to go back? Yes. Is my mental health better? I guess it's up to me. Was the break worth it? Yes; even better than summer vacation. While the A's faltered, the Giants stepped up and are now one game away from the NCLS. If they make it, they'll get nuked by the Phillies but it's the best they've done since 2003. Here's to a great month of baseball, the start of my favorite show, Parenthood and thirty-eight class days until finals and Christmas vacation!

Just to record it all, here's what I spent a lot of time listening to (in no order whatsoever):

Arlo Guthrie - Hobo's Lullaby
The Band - Rock of Ages
The Allman Brothers Band - Idlewild South
T&S - record release party concert, 5/25/10, epon album for my brother, who was knocked out by their show
Bruce - Darkness, Lost Masters Vol. II and II (Darkness outtakes), The Rising (after completing my N.Y. novel)
Mellencamp - No Better Than This (took this to S.D. and it made its mark when it comes to music memories)
Dylan - Live at the Gaslight, 1962, Planet Waves
John Lennon - Plastic Ono Band, rare acoustic- and outtake cuts, Legend. Happy 70th, John.
Judy Collins - Who Knows Where the Time Goes
Willie Nile - Streets of New York
Richie Havens - Mixed Bag, Something Else Again, Stonehenge, Alarm Clock. It seems that he's cancelled the remainder of his gigs this year. I'm really worried for the man and his health.
Joan Baez - Any Day Now
Woody Allen - Music From His Movies compilation
Red Garland - Red Garland's Piano - finally snagged it! Listened to it like I would never have it again in S.D. and it's a wonderful, albeit mellow, record. Great cover.
Much vinyl symphonic music, including Beethoven and Mozart concertos. Perfect for early autumn mornings reading the paper and splitting up your kids who are trying to kill each other with breakfast cereal and eating tools.
Lots of Miles, Coltrane, Hank Mobley, Sonny. Stumbled across a '60s band out of Philly called the Kit Kats, which also deserve a post though I'm not sure I'll ever get around to writing one. Saw A Serious Man, A Single Man and Seraphine. Finally able to view movies! Prince of Persia is simply a grunt or two away from a bad bowel movement.

Next up: The Sound Wave in San Diego, where I was graced with a song dedication by the band...