Twerk in Progress
Miley Cyrus at Bridgestone Arena was exactly the kind of show a reviewer loves. The Spin walked into the arena last Thursday night damp, tired, with middling expectations and already annoyed by way too much teenage screeching on a school night. We left giddy and giggling, talking to our friends about the show's impressive pop-culture aggregation and the importance of having a space for young women to party and act stupid without having to worry about any judgment. The entire production was like a party scene from an overly serious '90s movie about a future dystopia, but here's the thing: Parties are fun.
We got there a little late, thanks to torrential rains turning downtown into total gridlock. Even though we caught only the tail end of Lily Allen's set, we at least got to hear "Smile," one of the most charming pop songs about destroying someone's life the world has ever known. Allen's loose performing style coupled with a simple setup of just a DJ, occasional dancers and a jumpsuit seemed to make her befuddling to most of the impatient crowd, who were definitely out for spectacle.
And before Miley even started, spectacle was given. A barefoot boy wearing a kitty cat tank top, teddy bear backpack and red lipstick climbed upon the barrier and twerked his little heart out, hyping the crowd. A genius fan brought a Billy Ray cut-out head that proclaimed "Dang Flabbit Miley." And oh, the fashions! We saw bindi eyebrows, a butt-riding Beetlejuice leotard coupled with a Mickey Mouse hat, and (the best) a hologram skirt with flashing LED belt. A male friend told us the men's room had been taken over by girls tired of waiting: This was slowly turning into The Spin's dream world, a gynecocracy ready to motherfucking party.
The start was signaled: balloons that had been draped around the arena floated down, eliciting a genuine smile. The screen presented Cyrus' giant head with goggling eyes, reminding our old asses of You Can't Do That on Television, and soon enough a giant tongue/slide emerged, and she made her way down to the stage. The thing about Miley Cyrus is that she's a genuinely beautiful woman unafraid of making herself look like a total goober: It's hard not to be charmed by that. And no entertainer ever got poor acting a fool. There was a gingham pantomime horse, Cyrus splayed on a car hood like a demon Tawny Kitaen, a giant bird puppet, redneckish hoedowning and an overall sense of measured jankiness that we couldn't help but be delighted by. The overall theme of the show is "Miley Cyrus is fun and wants you to have fun." Her fans are too old for the baby-bird feelings of Taylor Swift and too young for the grown-woman proclamations of Beyoncé. "Do whatever the fuck you want and be happy — that's what life is about," Cyrus said at one point. Frankly, very good advice to women in that age group, prone to over-considering the opinions of still socially evolving young men to the detriment of their own good vibes. In fact, straight men were almost totally absent from the arena. It's difficult to overstate just how freeing that can be for young women sometimes.
Cyrus is a throaty, phlegmatic singer, and she sounds best when countrified. Her cover of "Jolene" went over swimmingly. Her cover of professional dullard Lana Del Rey's "Summertime Sadness" was also a fan favorite. Her cover of "Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds" (she guests on The Flaming Lips' version, which we just saw the Lips play at Bonnaroo) went over less well. By the time she got to "There Is a Light That Never Goes Out" only our row of 30-something music journalists and the cute, bespectacled girl behind us were singing along. But don't worry — if she lost 'em with The Smiths, she won 'em back by riding a giant hot dog over the crowd and exiting the stage.
Were there problematic elements? Of course, because The Spin believes in intersectionality. We take no issue with the grinding, leg-spreading, ass-bouncing aspects of Miley's goofy sexuality. The crowd seemed to have an average age of about 22 — there were no children in sight, so put those clutched pearls away. But it's hard not to be taken aback by a little-person dancer coupled with a giant drag-queen dancer — it reads as sideshow, not diversity. The ghetto-culture set of "Love Money Party" comes off as cartoonish, but the whole damn show is cartoonish. In fact, after that song, our notes just said "fun." But these are important things to consider when interacting with pop culture, for fans and performers alike.
And whoo brother, the encore. The top half of the show was the most fun, but the encores knocked it out of the park. "We Can't Stop," sung by Miley and hilariously lip-synced by a kitten on screen. "Wrecking Ball," sung by Miley and earnestly shouted in unison by the arena, some of us tearing up. Second encore: "Party in the USA," sung by Miley and screamed back by every person in the crowd. Cue red-white-and-blue confetti. Cue fireworks. Pack it up and put the circus back on the road. Girls in other cities need to party too.
Float On
The Spin knew there would be no topping Miley's multimedia extravaganza. Though we were aware that Friday night's show at The Stone Fox would be slim on production, we consoled ourselves with the knowledge that there would be some damn fine pop music, and we were going to enjoy every last note.
The revolving membership of James Wallace's group, The Naked Light, enhances the feeling that you're seeing something entirely new each time — even if you've watched their set 10 times, it's probably not the same band you saw before, and if they play songs you know, it might take a few bars to recognize them. In addition to Wallace on keys and guitar, Friday night's band consisted of bass (doubling on synthesizer), drums (with a percussion setup that included all the bells, if not the whistles), lap steel doubling on sax (sometimes with an octave-fuzz effect that made the lap steel sound like a chorus of saxes) and another sax player doubling on clarinet. Old telephone handsets repurposed as microphones added to the impression that the group just wandered onstage and started playing with whatever they found there. But the ramshackle presentation is a clever distraction from just how tight the band is, and just how well-crafted Wallace's songs are — nimble pop nuggets that turn a bunch of disparate folk traditions into one highly danceable sound. (At least, they make us bob around like the Peanuts gang.)
We went for a re-beer while Cotton Jones set up and found ourselves shimmying through a near-capacity crowd on the way back to the stage. The Cumberland, Md., sextet laid down pillowy layers of mid-'70s folky soft rock with two keyboards, pedal steel, a crisp soul-inflected rhythm section and gentle, nuanced vocals from husband-wife team Michael Nau and Whitney McGraw. This sound isn't our bag all the time, but — despite the irreparable damage it does to our standing with the cool kids — we will always get down with it when it's done right. We will defend the honor of Looking Glass' "Brandy" like she was our own sister, and we've done our share of "Dancing in the Moonlight." The trouble with Cotton Jones' songs was that they fell into a groove and just sort of sat there. What we wouldn't have given for a good hook or a bridge that really stood out from the rest of the song — c'mon guys, give us something to sink our teeth into! Don't share our beef with the rest of the crowd, though, because they seemed to be having a high ol' time.
We were getting the sleepy eye when Floating Action took the stage 'round midnight, but they quickly perked us up with their winning combo of AM pop and freak-scene music: a cosmic cloud of psychedelia here, a reggae bass line there, a blast of big college-rock guitar where we least expected it. No wonder Jim James loves this guy. Most of the crowd had called it a night already, but those who stayed were treated to a nice mix of new and old tunes, all sweetened with leader Seth Kauffman's Brian Wilson-esque voice and his bandmates' breezy harmonies. We'd be remiss if we didn't give the drummer some props, too. We've had our minds blown by the greenest punk kids and the most dazzling pros, but it's always treat to see a player like Floating Action's Josh Carpenter, who clearly had skills he could flaunt but he chose to hold back and play with the band instead.
That's a nice image that we could extend to describe the whole show. It wouldn't be tough to find a more flamboyant spectacle for our Friday night — Hank 3 was partying with Jesco White and Yelawolf just a couple of miles away at Exit/In — but who says something a little more low-key is a bad thing every once in a while? Not us.
Email thespin@nashvillescene.com.
