The Spin
Hebrew school
Silver Jews. Photos: Jack Silverman
The way Nashville was buzzing last week with news of the Silver Jews’ unannounced pre-tour warm-up gig, you would have thought Elijah the Prophet was finally showing up at the Seder table. Hell, even that legendary indie-rock tastemaker Brad Schmitt was in on it. Given lead Jew David Berman’s notorious reclusiveness, the excitement was understandable. And even with all the hubbub, there were still doubts whether the dirigible would ever get airborne. All such worries were for naught—the Red Sea parted, as Berman, his wife Cassie and the rest of the Jews led a packed house to the Promised Land Monday night at The End, with a ragged-but-right set that began with American Water’s “Random Rules,” highlighted material from last year’s Tanglewood Numbers and included old faves like “Trains Across the Sea.” Trial run or not, it was a festive atmosphere—Berman even looked up and smiled at the crowd a couple of times. The rest of the Jews likewise seemed to be enjoying themselves, perhaps relieved to have dusted off the first-show jitters. (It was good to see guitarist William Tyler onstage—there had been whispers that he had slipped below his eight-bands-at-one-time quota.) To close the night, Berman and crew did their best to correct one of modern music’s great oversights—a dearth of T.G. Sheppard covers—with a ripping version of “I Loved ’Em Every One.” The Jews kick off a five-week U.S. tour Friday at the 40 Watt in Athens, then head to the U.K. for a few shows in late April.
Blinded by the light
Were The Strokes trying to blind us, or perhaps just give us a seizure? No matter—we kind of liked it. At the band’s Monday-night concert, the historic Ryman stage was covered in giant retro light panels that flashed, changed color, strobed—pretty much anything you would want a giant light panel to do. At one point, the guy sitting next to us smiled and quipped, “I think they need more strobe.” But the intensely vibrant color show was a perfect counterpoint to lead singer Julian Casablancas’ all-black ensemble, and it created some pretty arresting iPod-ad silhouettes that had cell phone cameras all over the crowd poised above nodding heads. Heading into the show, we didn’t know what to expect, but we definitely did not expect to feel so darn old. There were shaggy-haired teenagers in frayed jeans and ironic T-shirts, as far as the eye could see, going nuts—it may as well have been The Beatles on Ed Sullivan. The infamously mercurial Casablancas had an odd demeanor, sort of reeling around the stage when his presence wasn’t required. Sometimes he wandered a bit too far, forcing him to bull-rush the mic to get back in time for the next line. They played a ton of tracks off First Impressions of Earth, including the wonderful “Razorblade” and the only catch-your-breath moment of the night, the stripped-down “Ask Me Anything.” And no matter how many times we hear the 2001 hit “Last Nite,” those opening chords still touch us in naughty places.
A Cluttered bill
|
---------------------------Advertisement---------------------------
|
|
---------------------------Advertisement---------------------------
|
The Clutters. Photos: Josh Lagersen
As reported last week, according to Rolling Stone, THE CLUTTERS are a “Nashville anomaly, a straight-ahead garage-rock band.” So imagine our complete surprise Saturday night when they shared a Mercy Lounge bill with a bunch of bands that could fit that description. First up was THE BUBBLEGUM COMPLEX, who play garage rock filled with crunchy guitars and catchy hooks, topped off by lead singer CALDWELL DUNLAP’s delightfully understated whine. Next up was the lilting roots-rock of HANDS DOWN EUGENE, who bravely soldiered on with what was, by their standards, a skeleton crew—only seven guys. (Apparently, there was a birthday party that needed attending.) Even with an army of musicians onstage, HDE’s music never sounds busy; its soulful richness just sort of washes over you. The Clutters, working with the two-guy/two-girl formula that has been so successful for such Swedish supergroups as Abba and Ace of Base, closed out the show. Singer DOUG LEHMANN apologized off the bat, saying he was a little under the weather, but there was little sign of any hindrance. The Clutters have that cool factor (check out Doug’s glasses) but without the pretension, and we admit to having a little bit of a crush on Farfisa organist ALI TONN, whose badass playing and rock-chick aloofness was downright intoxicating. Also, mad props to Doug for his Nashvillezine.com podcast “We Own This Town,” a great alternative to the more-unreliable-than-Michael-Jackson-on-a-balcony-with-a-baby streaming services of myspace.com for hearing local bands. Keep ’em coming.
Rock out with your clock out
Those of you who get frustrated when your favorite act plays a 40-minute set should have been at the Warehouse in Clarksville last Friday (and Saturday), where CRISS CHEATHAM set the Guinness world record for Longest Concert by a Solo Artist. Cheatham, who also fronts the band August Christopher, played for over 24 hours, and would have gone on longer had not the record-setting celebration exceeded the maximum five-minute break allotment. The event was no mere publicity stunt—all proceeds are going to Operation Eagle’s Nest, which supports the soldiers and families of the 101st Airborne Division and other units at Fort Campbell.
Upcoming shows
• When Canadian LUKE DOUCET opened for Josh Rouse back in January, we were too cool for school, arriving late and missing his set. The more we listened to his album, the more we regretted that last pre-show beer; lucky for us, he’s headlining at The Basement on Friday. Besides the fact that most of the songs are about girls, Broken (and other rogue states) is not exactly a cohesive record, but the schizophrenic production—pop-rock tracks that make your teeth hurt, the occasional pedal-steel, rocking retro blues and a couple of spare, sensitive singer-songwriter tracks—pushes Doucet’s songwriting to the forefront. On “Wallow,” his unadorned voice sings over a simple country-blues-inspired acoustic strum: “If I wallow here / it’s my history to burn / these are my lessons to learn / but for now, one more round…” We’ve learned our lesson—sometimes it pays to skip that last round and get there on time.
Send news and gossip to thespin@nashvillescene.com.