The Nashville Feed

Josh Ritter might have the happiest stage presence of any musician touring today.

For all the comparisons to Bob Dylan, who rarely gives an audience anything better than upbeat indifference, Ritter defies the dour, unknowable songwriter.

While navigating through heartbreak and murder ballads, he always returned to a blissful grin.

He regularly broke into laughter while telling stories about the amount of skin he saw displayed around Vanderbilt and potatoes in his basement that look like Dick Cheney. Not there’s anything wrong with an Idaho native collecting potatoes.

On the first of two sold-out nights at the Belcourt Theatre, Ritter and his band didn’t race so much as expertly shift gears through spare ballads, some brief forays close into Strokes territory, a few fiddle tunes and Ritter playing one tune entirely in the dark. The diversity onstage was staggering, with band member shuffling on and off, acoustics and electrics traded off.

In full disclosure, I have to commit Americana heresy here - I don’t own anything from Ritter. Aside from a few promo and compilation cuts, I know him mainly by reputation.

He showed how well he earned it on Tuesday.

The touching songs – “Temptation of Adam” and “Empty Hearts” - stuck the best, although shaky moments were few for this tour-tested outfit. Even with his most vulnerable lyrics, it never took long for Ritter to return to smiling.

Ritter and multi-instrumentalist Zack Hickman (sporting an amazing handlebar ‘stache) stepped away from the microphones and amplifiers for an acoustic interlude. The power could have gone out, and Ritter’s music would have chugged along without a flinch.

Had she chosen to just talk for an hour, opener Ingrid Michaelson would have still pleased the audience with her magnificent stage presence. Switching between piano and guitar, she never stopped entertaining (the guy next to me compared her to Juno). Her voice propelled songs such as “Overboard” and “Die Alone,” although not all were as memorable. Still, her transcendent banter left me craving more.

(Writer's note: Per Mr. Plant's banter, this review will skip any mentions of "grizzled rock gods" or bluegrass high priestess" pounded into every article about this collaboration.)

He might not release those banshee wails anymore, but Robert Plant's amazingly preserved voice more than held its ground when mingling with the flawless tones of tourmate Alison Krauss during their second night at the Louisville Palace Theatre.

Never nostalgic or too serious, this odd supergroup plowed through 2-hours of musical acreage on Sunday night, tilling up revamped Led Zeppelin gems, bluegrass, and every song from their best-selling Raising Sand.

While sharing the stage with Krauss, guitarist/producer T-Bone Burnett and a solid backing band, Plant remained the consummate rock star, his swagger building as the show went on. He strutted and shuffled, leaned hard on the microphone stand and always looked natural in his approach.

Krauss was slightly more reserved until she grabbed the fiddle or hit those pristine high notes.

The live highlights barely strayed from the best of Sand. The Townes Van Zandt dirge "Nothin'" brimmed with intensity only found live, while Krauss shone through the darkness of "Sister Rosetta Goes Before Us" and Tom Waits' "Trampled Rose."

The Sand highlights were expected, but the reworked Zeppelin cuts took stark detours. An apocalyptic banjo line submerged "Black Dog" in a Louisiana swamp to great effect. "When the Levee Breaks" bore more in common with Memphis Minnie's original than the Zeppelin take.

The best demanded the fewest changes - "The Battle of Evermore." Krauss' soaring vocal equaled the late Sandy Denny as Plant's duet partner (Plant introduced it as, "This is an English song .... if Mordor is in England").

Krauss got her solo spotlights as well, going a capella on "Down to the River to Pray." With a backing trio led by Plant, Krauss easily punched through the drunken whooping that threatened to derail the O' Brother, Where Art Thou? standout.

The only bump came on a two-song interlude from Burnett - one bizarre, one bluesy, both were received poorly from the sold-out crowd.

Plant assured the crowd he dreaded "Gone Gone Gone (Done Moved On)" for the looks that Krauss gave him when he screwed up, and sure enough they caught eyes and laughed about two minutes into the Everly Brothers' tune.

Through ovation after ovation, the band stayed loose; Plant even turned out the best-ever response to the anonymous fan's proclamation of love. "You wouldn't love me. Maybe you would ... but not for long," he said between laughs.

Those hoping for a Zeppelin reunion tour might not love him quite so much. Plant rarely stopped smiling, and when he declared the show "the second night in a new career," there was no questioning him.

Closing with the only song they could - the Doc Watson weeper "Your Long Journey" - these new duet partners began their own long path in sweeping fashion.

Reports of the New Pornographers’ demise are greatly exaggerated, if their Friday show at the Cannery Ballroom is any indication.

Despite missing core members Dan Bejar (on tour with Destroyer) and Neko Case (sidelined with a fractured ankle), A.C. Newman led the Pornos through a rollicking Friday night set heavy on its brand of tuneful pop songs.

Keyboardist Kathryn Calder didn’t merely replace Case’s vocals, but completely glossed over the indie rock goddess’ absence. When the group broke into the somber “Challengers,” the title track Case’s most prominent vocal on their latest album, it was the second biggest surprise of the night.

The largest opened the brief encore – an enthusiastic take on “Don’t Bring Me Down” from fellow Canadians ELO.

With their harmonies intact, the band didn’t stumble once. The hour-plus set easily surpassed the studio versions – even when the Pornographers went soft, they never sacrificed their relentlessness.

No Case meant one big silver lining - every pause in the music wasn’t loaded with badly coiffed hipsters shouting marriage proposals to her.

Sprinted through the layered “My Rights Versus Yours” then nearly every significant track off its last two long-players, Newman showed that he captained this ship even on Bejar tunes like “Myriad Harbor.”

With the news about Case, Okkervil River stood a good chance of upstaging their tourmates.

They came close, and Will Sheff’s heartfelt, literate songs demonstrated this Austin band qualified for its own headlining tour. With a tight crew behind him, Sheff ably warbled above his own acoustic playing, his soulful voice at times evoking a long-lost Davies brother.

The arrangements were nothing less than stellar, with bursts of trumpet, electric guitar and piano placed perfectly in nearly every song.

Minus its superstars, this indie rock twinbill went on without a hitch.

So long as Wilco and Son Volt endure, the Uncle Tupelo debate will never cease.

Case in point - Wilco sells out the Ryman in March, and Son Volt packed them into the much-smaller Exit/In on April 10.

I chose not to draw unnecessary conclusions, just wanting to hear Son Volt’s latest incarnation tackle material from The Search.

Son Volt founder/leader/frontman Jay Farrar is not one to chat up his audience – if not for the occasional “Alright” and “Thank you” between songs, he barely spoke. He wouldn’t have found much to say to many in the crowd, including the couple in front of me, whose brand of bad white people dancing rarely migrates beyond lawn seats at a Jimmy Buffett show. Those two would have made Farrar stop speaking altogether.

Instead, he greeted the crowd with a relentless take on “Bandages and Scars,” a rocking opener tempered by Farrar’s bittersweet vocals that always return to “Words of Woody Guthrie’s ringing in my head.” This might be Son Volt 2.0, but Farrar assembled a crack live outfit that match his crunchy brand of Americana.

Aside from surprise Uncle Tupelo ballad “Slate” and a new song from an upcoming Jack Kerouac documentary Farrar scored, the setlist ran down highlights of the last two albums, Okemah and the Melody of Riot and The Search. The albums’ mellower twists were largely ignored for Crazy Horse-style rockers infused with Farrar’s rustic lyrics.

Farrar isn’t afraid to go political on occasion, albeit with a little more tact than most musicians. His tune “Jet Pilot” admonishes the most famous veteran of the Texas Air National Guard.

Son Volt dug deeper for an encore of its best-known classics – “Drown” and the always gorgeous “Windfall” brought the house down, then Farrar attacked the masonry with a mammoth version of Waylon Jennings’ “Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way?”

Farrar might not have wasted time with small talk, but Son Volt didn’t waste a note all night.

Official Website: Son Volt

Technorati Tags: wilco, nashville, exit in, son volt, music review

By Bill Melville

In the span of Star’s show at the Belcourt Theatre Tuesday, a decade of bad relationship moments dragged through my mind.

Through their sophisticated yet tender pop delivery, the Montreal sextet still earned exuberant applause.

Maybe it was the band's character and songcraft. Or maybe it was because Stars members threw flowers decorating the stage at the audience throughout a show with few thorny spots.

Yet another offshoot of the music collective Broken Social Scene – it seems as if Canadian law requires membership for all resident indie rockers – Stars showed how polished music can emerge such eclecticism.

Singers Torquin Campbell and Amy Millan balanced their voices delicately against each other, with their four bandmates falling in lockstep behind them.

With the pair trading off lead vocals and dueting regularly, the music stayed loose during intricate arrangements. The songs had room to breathe – the band seemed less concerned with notes filling every empty space than on their
albums. There were still plenty of songs that buried the keyboards in guitar-driven cacophony, most notably “Bitches in Tokyo,” everyone's favorite title in the band discography.

Opener Martin Royle and his affable backing band, Pash, worked off a different canvas. Royle shocked the audience out of “ignore the opener” mode with the haunting “If Time Ran Backwards.” His poetic lyricism saved songs like “Sex with Your Ex” from the cheap jokes they could have become in other
hands.

Then Stars jumped in with “The Night Starts Here,” a smoldering synth ballad propelled by Millan’s sex-tinged voice.

Alternately mellow and intense, there were few low moments, but definite standouts - the Millan showcase “Window Bird;” the raucous “Take Me to the Riot;” and “Your Ex-Lover is Dead,” an essential indie rock tune about bumping into an old flame.

Stars ignored some lesser tunes from their latest release, In Our Bedroom After the War, and mixed in the best tracks from the highly-acclaimed Set Yourself on Fire, tightening up their setlist in the process.

They earned points for timely banter, reminding the crowd about the movie playing next door, plus a brief Phil Collins rip from Campbell and Millan’s declaration that everyone was an extra in a film called “Sex Zombies.”

The main set didn’t close so much as climax with “In Our Bedroom After the War."

Following the industry-standard short delay, the band sprang back with a worthy encore held high by “I’m Trying to Say” and “Calendar Girl” from Set Yourself on Fire.

Although the band departed too rapidly for a group so theatrical – I picture the members clasping hands and taking a wide bow as the house lights glowed to life – their stamp on the night was undeniable.

Stars shined a lamp on black love and splintered romance, and the Belcourt crowd was better for the illumination.

For more info on Stars, check out:

• Arts-Crafts.ca/Stars/
• MySpace.com/Stars

A lazy observer could write off Black Mountain as a pile of classic rock clichés – just call them “Zeppelin and Sabbath riffs crossed with the synthesizers from Wish You Were Here” and be done with them. But stamping them with the stoner rock label merely marginalizes the many ways this Vancouver quintet pulls from its 70’s influences and never sounds contrived.

In 75 minutes at the Exit/In Monday, Black Mountain defied all those labels. The influences might be obvious, but they don't blur the band's focus or dumb it down into a glorified Sabbath tribute.

It was all Canadian onstage, with openers Nordic Nomadic and Bon Iver. The latter overcame minimal instrumentation with aid from Justin Vernon’s soaring vocals that at times recalled a gruffer, earthier Chris Martin.

The pleasant, if sometimes slight, folk held promise, but Bon Iver isn't quite ready for headlining.

Near 11 p.m., the opening chords to Black Mountain’s “Stormy High” quickly scorched away any trace of the openers.

For as monolithic a sound as the band appears to produce, the show displayed their facets well. The acoustic waltz “Stay Free” broke up the menace shining through the rest of Black Mountain’s set. Its loose feel was welcome, and a sign laying off the distortion for another song or two might have broken up Black Mountain’s set better.

The bands’s selections leaned on In the Future, their just-released sophomore outing. As it was, picking out songs from their albums was simple – anything from their debut sounded like musicians trying to outplay each other, but newer songs meshed more organically.

Seamless harmonies from Amber Webber widened Black Mountain’s sonic palette. When she took the lead on the gorgeous “Queens Will Play,” the Sabbath specter fades for a Grace Slick/Sandy Denny vibe. When supporting singer/guitarist Stephen McBean, Webber sacrifices none of her vocal punch.

Even when the tempos eased up, the songs continue their slow burn and never shed a strand of muscle. All their droning dirges stayed fresh past their five minute marks. The epic “Tyrants” never dragged; it leaves the audience wondering how those eight minutes blew by so quickly. A blistering three-song encore felt much the same - the tightness and flow of the music never faltered.

Black Mountain’s lyrics land squarely in Middle Earth on most tunes. But no one came to hear them for extra credit in poetry class. These psychedelic revivalists draw a crowd for the riffs, the epics and the synths. On Monday, they delivered an avalanche of all three.

You can find Black Mountain online at BlackMountainMusic.ca or MySpace.com/BlackMountainMusic

Technorati Tags: black mountain music, music review, exit/in

(Guest post today from our new friend Bill Melville. He hopefully will be posting often on the Nashville Feed, you can read more of his posts at dont-call-me-ishmael.blogspot.com - mdave)

Admit it, you only know Nada Surf as mid-1990s one-hit-wonders who rode a catchy music video to momentary stardom.

If not, you’ve probably known the band since their 21st century revival as a tight indie trio that straddles the maudlin and the hopeful in almost every song.

There's no way to measure how those two groups split in the Exit/In crowd Tuesday night, but Nada Surf looked forward and ignored the mocking calls for “Popular,” their infamous hit from a decade ago.
For as uncomfortable as their songs sometimes feel - Matthew Caws’ voice occasionally echoes like a forerunner to every emo frontman ever - they cut through it with tightness as a band. The three members leave no space unfilled, and aside from some limited bland banter, let up as little as the October rain pounding outside.
With a setlist divided among its past two records and sprinkled with tracks from its upcoming one, the barely paused as the tempos bounced between punky anthems and slower tunes that went from mellow to anguished. In a day where some bands have the balls to trot out the same setlist every night, Nada Surf didn’t play like a band on autopilot - at one point, Caws told the crowd their setlist named a slow song, but they were going with another loud one instead.

The Caws-only “Blizzard of 77,” which opens comeback album Let Go, has become almost a signature song, along with a handful of others – “Inside of Love,” “Blond on Blonde” and “Fruit Fly.” The new songs never fingered a new stylistic direction, but fit with the palette laid out on Surf’s newer records.
Although a band not known for revisiting the past, Nada Surf tackled two songs on the rarely spun sophomore effort Proximity Effect; the compact heaviness of “Hyperspace” was somewhat unexpected, but meshed with the progression evident in the trio.

Going for a four-song encore ended on the right tone. Further and further from “Popular,” Nada Surf’s incisive songwriting and live interplay

As for opener Sea Wolf, think Jeff Tweedy’s little front a less-prog/rock version of The Decemberists. They easily beat the “Get off the stage” vibe nurtured by most opening acts, even when their keyboardist intruded on some of earthier tunes with some overbearing synth racket that washed away the cello and acoustic guitar. She atoned with some nice piano fills on the sparser songs. But the group showed promise, with its catchy, myspace-ready single “You’re a Wolf” topping off a moody yet energetic set.

Further Reading:

• Nada Surf Official Website

Tags: nada surf