The Spin
Frosty Friday
For 15 bucks, you too could have braved the weather at the Belcourt Friday night to witness some of our favorite local rock bands perform completely out of their element at the Nashville Scene Music Festival 2—guitars are difficult to play with cold phalanges, after all. With crisp and full sound, bands mixed, mingled and rocked indoor and outdoor stages all night. Inside, Ole Mossy Face warmed up the crowd with their country-rock vibe and Glossary delivered a standout performance, setting the stage for The Explorers Club’s jangly ’60s-style pop and Altered Statesmen’s gorgeous Astral Weeks lilt (aided by Lambchop’s Deanna Varagona on closing-time sax). Outside, Imagine Asians and Velcro Stars played tight sets of delicate indie-pop, a contrast to the exciting one-step-from-disaster sprawl of the Grandmother Lovers. Though we couldn’t catch every band we wanted to see, the tail end of All We Seabees’ set hinted at us having missed a good one, and we also heard raves about Umbrella Tree. There was a striking contrast between the theater and the parking lot. The indoor performances generally seemed more relaxed (exception made for the deft vaudeville theatrics of Juan Prophet Organization), while outdoor performances tended to be much more frantic—as with The Comfies, whose bouncy pop had an extra edge of intensity, or closing act The Shazam, who heated up the hardy outsiders like Cheap Trick rocking Budokan. Maybe bands and audiences alike were just trying to keep warm, but they provided an electricity that was often absent inside. As proof, the evening’s best performance came from duo JEFF, who charmingly spazzed through a short dose of their trash-punk dada riffs. Next year, dress warmly. More photos at nashvillescene.com.
Road trip
The Spin hit the road last weekend, but we couldn’t leave Nashville behind. Be Your Own Pet opened for Drive-By Truckers in Athens, Ga. Friday night—a head-scratching bill that worked better than it had any right to. The show’s genesis speaks well of the kinetic punk posse. BYOP had the 40 Watt date booked when the Truckers came to them looking to do a two-night benefit at their home club the same weekend. So BYOP agreed, taking second billing and playing for only their overhead. Someone raised those kids right! Playing to a rapidly filling room, BYOP whizzed through a breakneck set, with singer Jemina Pearl gyrating, head-banging and doing the swim into the hearts of the rabid, captive crowd (though the look on some faces during “Bunk, Trunk, Skunk” made us think they’d never heard a 100-pound blond teenager threaten to steal their virginity before). It was our first glimpse at BYOP’s new Jamin Orrall-less incarnation, and replacement John Etherley was impressive—though he might lack a touch of Orrall’s idiosyncratic flair. He’s only been in the band two months, so we’ll cut the kid some slack. BYOP play Nashville, for the first time in too long, Nov. 18 at The End.
Charm school
Last Thursday at 3rd & Lindsley, we saw Cory Branan as we’d never seen him before: bearded and playing with a band. The wily troubadour and former Nashvillian was joined for most of his set by various members of the Thrift Store Cowboys, the opening act for his current tour. In an interview a couple of weeks ago, Branan admitted, “I’m trying to think of a polite way to put it—I’m hard to play with. I rush tempo and drag. I’m kind of a mess when it comes to playing with a band. But these guys are so good that they can put up with me.” For only their second gig together, they did a fine job of keeping up with Branan, but we also think he did a little bit of slowing down, reigning in his more angular, dynamic tendencies—and we don’t know how we feel about that. At times, the country-tinged cacophony seemed to distract from the spare beauty of his songwriting, and Thrift Store Cowboys, with their accordion and fiddle, sometimes made the whole thing feel a bit too alt-country for our taste. That said, it was a joy to see songs like “Mrs. Ferguson” and “Jolene” given the sloppy energy they deserve, and the stripped down duo of Branan and fiddler Amanda Shires led to some exquisite moments. And as for Branan, he was as charming as ever: smirking and yelling, assaulting his acoustic guitar and taking requests—in short, having what looked like a grand ol’ time.
Classy tribute
We didn’t stand out too much among the well-heeled crowd that endured The Ryman’s butt-numbing pews last Wednesday night to pay tribute to Steve Cropper. We could only watch in admiration as folks bid well into the four figures for items like a hand-painted “(Sittin’ on) The Dock of the Bay” guitar. The nearly four-hour-long show had it all: an auction, a suitably self-effacing emcee (Peter Gallagher, who broke us up when he commented, “The only person here who’s not in some kind of hall of fame is me, and maybe three or four of you out there”), a good cause (the T.J. Martell Foundation’s cancer and AIDS research) and lots of amazing music. The band was first-rate, Cropper got off some inspired solos and John Anderson turned “Swingin’ ” all funky and delightful. That’s not to mention guitarist Robben Ford’s jaw-dropping display of chops, Mark Farner’s downright inspirational take on Grand Funk Railroad’s “I’m Your Captain,” or elusive Memphis legend Jesse Winchester’s graceful and heartfelt encomium to the great musician.
Bothering the beer drinkers
Folk-rock troubadour Doug Hoekstra makes a rare hometown appearance this week this Thursday, Nov. 9, at Radio Cafe. Though he’s racked up great reviews and amassed a devoted following in the States and overseas, he remains underappreciated in his hometown, perhaps because he doesn’t fit so neatly into the folk, rock or soul categories, though his music touches on all of them—but that’s what makes him so singular. Ink 19 writer Stein Haukland called him “the crown prince of contemporary Brit-leaning pastoral folk-pop,” which would be laughable journalistic double-speak if it weren’t so perfect a description. Hoekstra is literate (he released an aptly titled collection of short stories, Bothering the Coffee Drinkers, earlier this year) but never lofty. At times he recalls the vulnerability and directness of Leonard Cohen, at others the dry wit of Elvis Costello (though with a softer-hued voice). If you miss him this time around, it’ll likely be summer before you get another chance. The Joe Rathbone Band is also on the bill.
Send medical bills from frostbite, has-been celeb sightings and reports on Nashville bands from the road to thespin@nashvillescene.com.
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