The Spin
Well-Greased Charles Walker and The Dynamites at The Basement. Photo: Jack Silverman
Explosive beginnings
Fully earning the implications of their name, The Dynamites blew the roof off The Basement Friday night—not to mention demolished the walls that typically divide Nashville’s music crowds. Black and white, young and old, dreadlocked freaks and Polo’ed prepsters, indie rockers and Junior Leaguers all came together in the name of funk. DJ Geezus and D Funk got the fire started with some classic old-school wax. (Little did we know that D Funk was a world-class air-bass player.) As the band kicked off with The Sugarman 3’s “Funky So-and-So,” there was a surge of electricity in the air, which jumped by a few hundred more volts when they brought out the main attraction—Charles “Wigg” Walker, a veteran R&B performer who recorded for Nashville’s Champion label in the late 1950s, back when most of the audience members were nothing more than a gleam in their parents’ eyes. In last week’s Scene, Walker suggested that he’s a stronger and better singer today than in his youth, and he certainly backed up his claim, working us up with his impassioned belting before bringing the band way down to explore the quieter subtleties of his rich voice. Though it was their first show, the band laid down some impressively nasty grooves and sounded as well-greased as if they’d just come off 10 weeks on the Chitlin’ Circuit. As we watched Wigg work the crowd into a frenzy, we couldn’t help but envisions the fireworks that would erupt if Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings were to bring him out onstage during their next Nashville stop. We can only hope. As if things weren’t steamy enough, The Dynamites brought out Ernie Vincent, who plugged in his guitar and wah-wah pedal, then tore into “Dap Walk,” his classic 1972 track featured on the highly regarded 2001 funk compilation The Funky 16 Corners. (Vincent recently relocated to Clarksville in the wake of Hurricane Katrina.) A big shout-out to guitarist-bandleader Bill Elder, without whose vision The Dynamites would have never ignited.
Making The Cut
“You’ll see the difference,” Crisis “Tha Rhyme Don” told us before performing for a packed house at last Saturday’s hip-hop showcase at The Cut. And we did. In a night filled with great performances, some of Nashville’s most promising underground acts took to the stage and demonstrated why the Cashville hip-hop scene is gaining momentum. Taking place below a strip club, the showcase was as flashy as it was entertaining. Wildly animated, these up-and-comers got grimy, spitting scandalous lyrics over a bass so banging it could make your ears bleed. Sixteen-year-old Shortee, from Atlanta, surprised us with his impressive stage presence, and “Tha Rhyme Don” knocked us out with his brash swagger. Headlining the night, Benzarelli (whose debut album Verbal Abuse should make him a household name among connoisseurs of independent hip-hop) kept the audience alert as he finished the night off with a no-nonsense approach to crowd-pleasing: attractive girls onstage grinding to vicious lyrics over dope beats. Other highlights included Nina Ross, a distinguished performer in Nashville’s underground circuit, and opening act The Diablos, who set an appropriately gritty tone for the evening.
Friday-night prayer meeting
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Melanie Valera once spontaneously wandered into an African American congregation in Portland, Ore.; with all eyes upon her she walked forward to receive a blessing from the pastor, who commanded her to “let it go!” Heeding the pastor’s advice, Melanie Valera (a.k.a. Tender Forever) let it go in a similar setting while performing at The Chapel last Friday night. In an evening marked by uninhibited, theatrical storytelling and music, Tender Forever endeared herself to the crowd with simple sincerity and an engaging presence. “I know nothing of Nashville, but that it’s pretty cool,” she said just before launching into “Make Out,” off her new album The Soft and The Hardcore. Delicately dancing down the center aisle with eyes closed, Tender Forever at times fell to her knees or on individuals sitting quietly in the audience, startling them with her abrupt change of footing. Headliner and K Records labelmate Calvin Johnson wasn’t so much a dancer as a gifted storyteller. After launching into Gene Autry’s “There’s an Empty Cot in the Bunkhouse Tonight,” he stopped midway to explain why he was playing it—a Portland newspaper had run a profile of a middle school vice principal named Art, who “had always wanted to unlock the cowboy inside,” and this was his favorite song. Like a magician, Johnson artfully lured us into the tune before spinning his tale. Accompanied by only a guitar and pleasant humor, he had no problem holding our attention. “I know it’s getting late,” he said somewhere between his ruminations on Black Flag’s “T.V. Party” and “Gimme, Gimme, Gimme,” “but I have a few songs to play.” And we happily listened, thankful that we didn’t have to wake up early the following morning.
Rock out already!
Black Taj seemed a bit shy at first as they kicked things off Thursday night at The Basement. Frontman Dave Brylawski kept peering out the corners of his eyes, as if he were looking to see if the “It’s OK to rock out now” light had come on yet. His smooth, pleasing voice peered out of the corners of his songs, too, where extended instrumental passages gave way to unexpected verses that led to more extended instrumental passages intead of choruses. The band’s early languor did not diminish the viscosity of their riffs, which were like thick layers of Deep Purple Cream, heavy and satisfying. It wasn’t Polvo—Brylawski and Black Taj bassist Steve Popson’s former band—but eventually the “rock out now” light went on, even if not at full burn. Unfortunately, there were no toms in the P.A., which was a disservice to drummer Tom Atherton, who was solidly propulsive all night. (Note to sound person: at least some overheads, please.) Like some kind of Finnish Modern Lover, The Mattoid came on next and threatened to steal the show, but then Birds of Avalon hit the stage and absolutely plundered it. Overheard after they finished: “That was like a good, hard fuck.”
Plastic fantastic
Even though they were short a man, The Plastic Rulers ably reigned over their Family Wash subjects last Wednesday night. Sure, it’s easy to get used to having guitarist Audley Freed around, but it was enlightening hearing how well frontman Warren Pash’s tunes stand up without the extra guitar muscle, not to mention that Pash is no slouch on the guitar himself. (Poor Audley had to be at the Ryman to sit in with his buddy Warren Haynes and Gov’t. Mule.) Like most music worth listening to, it’s hard to pigeonhole the Rulers’ sound—it’s somewhere between the Stones and old-school R&B, but with slightly quirkier hooks and chords. Freed did make it back in time to join the evening’s second act, hey Hey hey, Nashville’s own blues-rock supergroup, featuring a revolving cast that includes Freed (Black Crowes), drummer Steve Gorman (Black Crowes), keyboardist Jimmy Wallace (Kenny Wayne Shepherd), guitarist Rob McNelley (Delbert McClinton), guitarist Steve Selvidge (Big Ass Truck), steel guitarist Pete Finney (Patty Loveless) and bassist and bandleader Nicky Govrik (Highwater). Sadly, we had to leave after a couple tunes, just as they were hitting on all cylinders. But they’ll be back—both bands play the Wash on Wednesdays through November.