The Spin
A stale ’Slice
Wednesday night’s John Vanderslice show at the Exit/In was the one of the more sparsely attended shows we’ve seen at the legendary venue. The 16 people who witnessed Emperor X’s set confirmed what we had already suspected—that this show would have been far better suited to The End, across the street. It’s a shame, Nashville: you really should have taken a chance on this guy. Emperor X, a.k.a. Chad Matheny, started his set in the back of the venue, jumping around and stomping his feet as he sang along to a prerecorded song on his tape player. It was disarming, awkward, quirky and a hoot. Half of the set was comprised of this kind of accompaniment to cassette tape recordings. It may not sound like much fun, but it was a blast—guess you had to be there.
Far less fun was Minus Story, whose quasi-psychedelic, Flaming Lips-style recordings sounded exceedingly contrived, repetitive and just plain bland when re-created onstage. Imagine an even more nasally version of Mercury Rev’s Jonathan Donahue singing incessant “ooh la la’s” over delayed everything. By the time Vanderslice took the stage, the crowd had swelled to nearly 50, mostly cutesy couples with no regard for what we thought were commonly accepted rules for PDA. But that turned out to be lucky for us—watching the dude in front of us totally copping a feel was far more interesting than anything happening onstage. Another song about 9/11, ughh. Wait! That girl’s got her hand in that guy’s pants! Vanderslice’s songs are great on record, but without the studio pizzazz, they all sound the same. The few of us in attendance must have been the last to know.
Give us the ’Finger
For those of us who have been at one too many Nashville shows filled with overly discerning, apathetic audience members, a trip to the ’Boro late last week was a salve for our aching rock ’n’ roll hearts. By the time Ghostfinger frontman Richie Kirkpatrick was howling “Go! Fight! Win!” into the mic, something akin to a mosh pit had developed and we couldn’t tell if the sweat running down our back was ours or that of the blotto dude next to us who had asked us to dance—“totally platonically”—earlier in the evening. The Grand Palace is part venue, part crazy house party (one that’s BYOB) and was a perfect locale for Ghostfinger’s last local show before embarking on a monthlong tour. (Mark your calendar for their triumphant return May 26, playing with the Clutters and How I Became the Bomb at the Exit/In.) Opening up was Ole Mossy Face, a Nashville band largely unknown in the ’Boro, but who nevertheless impressed the crowd. OMF play loose, loud, rootsy rock and frontman/drummer Casey Sander’s inter-song banter, delivered in his Cajun slur, is priceless. By the time Ghostfinger took the stage, the intimate, upstairs space was elbow-to-elbow. Joined by standout drummer Van Campbell for the first time since his return from an overseas tour with the Black Diamond Heavies, the ‘Finger rampaged through their set—and who else but Richie Kirkpatrick could have foreseen that TLC’s cautionary classic “Waterfalls” would sound so good as a rock ’n’ roll tune?
Finally, DeFord’s in the Hall
Glen Campbell, Alabama and the late DeFord Bailey joined the anointed ones at this year’s Country Music Hall of Fame Medallion Ceremony. Surrounded by a few TV cameras and a handful of die-hard ’Bama fans, black limos spit out some of our fave old-timers: Eddie Arnold, Earl Scruggs, even an Everly Brother. Still, the red carpet was disappointingly bereft of the kind of sequins and fringe you might expect. (Alabama wore jeans.) Luckily, the harmonica legend’s family brought the heat: DeFord Jr. came styling in a purple suit and gold-toe cowboy boots. “I remember when we used to let it all hang out,” hollered the dazzling, big-haired Brenda Lee. “Now we’re trying to suck it all back in!” The Ford Theater was a sea of white hair, with the exception of the Bailey family’s flowery metallic church-hats. Moments before breaking into a killer cut of “Rhinestone Cowboy,” Campbell zoned out, admitting, “It’s a wonderful business, this business...show. And this music—country...rock...crock.” Impressive performances by Campbell, Joe Filisko and John D. Loudermilk were unfortunately followed by a few doses of said crock. Rascal Flatts spent an unflattering amount of time fumbling with a lyric sheet for “My Home’s in Alabama” and Kenny Chesney, spokesman for Fruit-of-the-Loom, arrived hours late just to turn out a run-of-the-mill tribute. Ultimately, justice was served; DeFord Bailey, the black, 100-pound Smith County native who brought harmonica to country music and guts to the Grand Ole Opry, finally received the recognition he had long been denied. And there was an open bar.
Songs for Israel
The Gordon Jewish Community Center is celebrating Israel’s 58 years of independence Music City-style. Local songwriters and performers like Robert Jason (Alabama’s “She Ain’t Your Ordinary Girl,” Reba McEntire’s “I Like It That Way”), Joie Scott (Collin Raye’s “Not That Different”), Lisa Silver (Alabama’s “Forty Hour Week”), Michael Hunter Ochs (Curtis Stigers’ “On My Knees”) and others will gather at the JCC for “Songs for Israel, Volume II.” Don’t worry, though—you don’t have to be kosher to honor Israel. Jews and gentiles alike are encouraged to come together to enjoy Jewish, Israeli and spiritual music as well as some of the songs that made these songwriters who they are. The event is free, but donations are appreciated. It all goes down Saturday, May 13 at 8:30 p.m.
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