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!

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.

Half-Truth

On Thursday, Big Head Todd and the Monsters rolled through town. I remember their hey-day when I was in college as they had a couple of minor hits. The band's always been noted in certain circles, especially the jam band scene, though they never struck me as a jam band. I honestly couldn't name a single song of theirs but have never seen a reason to not like their music. They just never entered my music listening taste. Then why would it matter if they were playing the Fillmore on Thursday?
Well, because the Truth & Salvage Co. were opening the show. They've been on a mini-tour of the Pacific Coast, In Idaho, Washington, Oregon and a couple of stops in California. The guys told me that they were rolling through when I last saw them and, being in the first week of school and a sticker of $31.50 plus fees, I was wondering if I would have to miss them for the first time this year. Hmmmmm....
Last week, we connected and I was possibly going to get on the guest list if a significant other was not going to make the show. I needed to remind them a couple of days before the show. I was thrilled. On Tuesday, I made my reminder contact but was given the bad news that "she" would be making the show. Hey, no problem; they'd been so gracious with previous shows and I'd just need to buy a ticket to get in.
That wasn't happening. Nothing on craigslist, eBay or stubhub for cheap. Understandably, my better half reminded me of my fiscal responsibilities as a husband and a father and she told me that I'd have to miss the show, deal with it and grow up. She was right. Damnit.
So, Thursday night, with wonderful weather in the 'Wood, the family had a great dinner and we were outside. All except my oldest, who was watching favorite cartoon clips on Youtube. The only problem was, he wasn't allowed to be watching cartoons as he had done something he wasn't supposed to earlier in the afternoon. I walked into the kitchen where the computer was, stopped the cartoon and minimized the screen. To my dismay, I was looking at my inbox and what did I see? An e-mail from the guys letting me know that the plans had changed, "she" couldn't make it and that I WAS ON THE LIST. That was 7:24 p.m. The show started at 8:00. The Fillmore is in the city, an hour and a half away. Rolling her eyes, my wife consented and I was in the car less than one hundred and eighty seconds later. For the first ten minutes of my drive, I questioned my sanity and nearly turned around several times. When I realized that I could do eighty miles an hour around Antioch, however, that lack of certainty disappeared. Now I was at war with the clock; I was going to be late; the question was: just how much of their set would I catch?
Long story short: no traffic. I shot through the Caldecott Tunnel, over the bridge and into the city. Through the city. Parked. Literally ran to the venue. Hit the window. Booked into the beloved Fillmore, where I had first heard them seven months ago opening for the Black Crowes in what may just be one of the top ten shows I've ever seen.
Thankfully, they were still playing. The venue was about a third full, not bad for any opening act. What was great, though, was that everyone in there was not just casually listening but giving them full-throated cheers and their undivided attention. I bee-lined it straight to the stage just as they began ripping into "Rise Up." Scott was singing at his best, the band was DRIVING the song and when the guitar breaks came, the best band in the history of rock and roll ruled the universe for two eternal minutes. Adam's organ was hot in the mix, Smitty declaring war on his cymbals. The crowd was in a frenzy as Scott and Tim were eye to eye, jamming in harmony, sounding increasingly like the Brothers when Duane and Dickey would do the same thing.
"Rise Up" ended and Joe began thumping into "She Really Does It For Me", a rollicking song that would have been Joe Cocker's biggest single from his second album. Tim cranked the song out and the band pushed this harder than I'd ever heard it, straight into "See Her", giving Scott another chance to tear into his '73 Gibson SG. Four minutes later, the crowd roaring and the band dripping in sweat, the song concluded. The audience's response was so loud that I couldn't hear Walker thank the crowd, Big Head Todd and introduce the band. Smitty walked out in front of the kit and they began "Pure Mountain Angel". Walker as adamant as ever on lead, Scott, Tim and Bill the choir. They made such joyful noise that the audience was dead silent. The song moved through two verses and into the outro and the band received a greater ovation than any other time I'd seen them. I'd driven an hour and five minutes to catch four songs and it was one of the best shows I'd seen this year. Capping it off, a couple of the guys saw me from the stage and yelled out, "didja get in? You were on the list!"
For the next hour or so, we caught up and talked about the tour, Fall plans and whatnot. The postshow was just as great as the mini-set I caught. Stories will stay with me. All the while, Big Head Todd was playing. Their set was fine, though unfamiliar. None of us was going to stay around to catch the complete show; I wanted to get back in time for a night's sleep for work and the guys were rolling out to L.A. in an hour. We parted ways, another amazing story had and another long drive ahead.
I told a couple of colleagues the next morning of my adventure. They told me I was nuts. I think they're right.

I'll Sing It Again...

It's here. Well, kind of. The cd and goodies didn't arrive but the album's available to listen to online, which I did. Even on my laptop's cruddy little speakers, the sound quality's good and the production value is solid. Chris Robinson's New Earth Mud sound is on this one. While I've heard these songs live several times and have given them countless listens on youtube, these studio cuts will crank through a nice sound system. With the windows down, headed up to the mountians. Or in the backyard with the kids playing and beer flowing.

Hail Hail - Smitty's count-in and the half-time tempo into their signature four-part harmonies. A slow burner, with shout outs by the band members to their mates. The feet start tapping as Adam's B-3 takes this one to church.

Call Back - I've already written about this one. One of the best songs on the album. Walker' s lead and acoustic pulse could realistically make this song chart. This one's hot.

Welcome to L.A. - Smitty on lead; story of the band's history. Four-on-the-floor, this one.

Heart Like a Wheel - Tim lead, solid song, especially live. Not the Linda Ronstadt song like the title implies.

See Her - the tempo changes will catch you off guard and make you think you're in 1973. Lots of classic hooks (one reminiscent of a Frampton riff) and a great set closer. Could hear this one stretch out with some cool trading twos by the guitarists.

Old Piano - sweet ballad. Bluesy and reflective. Scott's steel guitar puts this one right back in Laurel Canyon. This one builds through the verses and as it ends, I find myself hitting the rewind button.

101 - this one's got a Counting Crows vibe but Walker's lead keeps it good 'n swampy. Again, the harmonies and tempo switches hook you every time. One reviewer heard Jerry Garcia. I don't; I hear Glenn Frey. That's not a put down, either. I don't know the story behind the song's title but for an alum of UCSB, I'm keeping the title and giving it its own value. Not telling, either, but roll another number for the road!

Jump the Ship - Scott's key song. Covered this one live.

She Really Does it For Me - Joe starts this one and this one's for brawling in the bars.

Rise Up - There's a riff in this one that'll stop you in your tracks and make you pay attention the next time it rolls around. Bill must have busted a drum head on this one, he's killing the skins. Put a little love in there, Scott. A lead guitar dual at the end that, while too short for me, would make Duane and Dickey proud.

Brothers, Sons & Daughters - for some reason, this one wasn't available on the download. This one's Smitty's and he shows that these guys wear their hearts on their sleeves. They've been around and yet they're grounded in what really matters. To me, this song is the soul of the guys in the band.

Pure Mountain Angel - And this one's the soul of the band itself. Adam's gospel-tinged piano (a la Delaney Bramlett's "Hotel Shot"), and Walker's weary lead capture the attention and keep you riveted to the song. The harmonies (how many are in there, it's hard to tell but there are a bunch!) give you goose bumps. Halfway through the band jumps in and drives this one straight home. The song ends and you're left shaking your head in disbelief that guys can make a song this beautiful.

Of course I'm tripping all over myself. I don't care. This one's a keeper. The guys in the Truth & Salvage Co. did themselves proud, I say, and I can't wait to see them next month. 'Till then, I'm betting on this release getting a bunch of attention. You owe it to yourself to pick this one up.