William Tyler Band and Friends Bring Old Nashville Spirit to The Stone Fox

On Black Friday last year, we shook off our tryptophan hangover at the first William Tyler Band and Friends show, so we had a good idea of what to expect on this sophomore outing. By and large, we got what we expected: a set of mind-expanding, mood-enhancing WTB instrumentals, followed by a rollicking set of covers featuring a broad cross-section of top local vocalists. Everything felt comfortable and familiar, and the scene played out like a contemporary twist on the famous Christmas party in Heartworn Highways. Yet there was plenty of room for surprises, and we got to check a couple of things off our bucket list that we didn't even know were on it. 

Last fall's show was well-attended, but word seems to have spread; this time, the room was overflowing before the first note was played. Once everything was to their satisfaction, Tyler and band (Silver Jews drummer Brian Kotzur, Bully bassist Reece Lazarus and impeccable steelist Luke Schneider) settled into the groove. Their agile, hypnotic set included a new number called "Area Code 601," dedicated to Mississippi natives, a cover of Michael Rother's "Karussell," and "Whole New Dude," which Tyler introduced as "our only single." Eyes closed, they reached out like fingers of the same hand to explore cyclical Middle Eastern melodies and Midwestern punk, finding the common ground between krautrock, acid rock, folk-rock and Indian ragas. During Tyler's solo opening set at Jack White's Bridgestone Arena gig, a friend who'd never heard him before made an observation that felt a little out-of-left-field at the time: "So, he's a gospel musician?" The wholesome, satisfied feeling we had going into the beer break makes us think our buddy was more correct than we realized.

Soon, hosts Polly Radford and David Bermudez called up Dan Tyler, the eminent songwriter and publisher whom William knows as "Dad." Daddy T. eased us into the second set with  a swampy take on "Niki Hoeky," closer to the versions by by PJ Proby and Bobbie Gentry than Aretha Franklin's uptempo rendition. Next up was Jemina Pearl, best known as fire-breathing frontwoman of Music City punk outfits Be Your Own Pet and Ultras S/C. We were prepared for anything from Sex Pistols to Yeah Yeah Yeahs, but her pick was a cool surprise: "Walk On," Neil Young's breezy kiss-off to the press. Joey Plunket followed up with R.E.M.'s "(Don't Go Back To) Rockville," faithful to the original but with more growl; where Michael Stipe sings the song with ambivalence bordering on resignation, Plunket was urgent and pissed off. 

Margo Price's version of "Ooh Las Vegas" answered any questions as to how the original might've been if Emmylou took the lead instead of Gram. While pedalboard issues got sorted, Tyler told the audience that his very first concert, at age 5, was a Webb Wilder show; some 30 years later, the two of them grinned a mile wide as they boogied at top speed through The LeRoi Brothers' "Pretty Little Lights of Town." It's hard to pick  better matches of singer and repertoire than the two who came next: soulful, mellifluous Courtney Jaye on Delaney and Bonnie's "Soul Shake," and trad troubadour Cale Tyson (with help from Price and Pete Lindberg) on Guy Clark's "Rita Ballou." 

Since Jack Silverman relinquished his post as Scene managing editor last fall, we've had far fewer phenomenal deli sandwiches and far fewer opportunities to rap about The Grateful Dead around the office. Now was our chance to get a peek at the fruits of the frequent Dead tribute gigs that have been taking up some of his time. Once he plugged in, the group morphed into Uncle Jack's Band; despite a few hiccups at the start, in true Dead fashion the players came together and fell in line for a mighty "China Cat Sunflower." Silverman's lead work was a pitch-perfect tribute, with Jerry-style licks slanted by his own mutant jazz sensibilities, and his interplay with Tyler was especially choice during the traditional segue into "I Know You Rider." Jiving as much as his back brace would allow, Allen Thompson took the lead vocal, helped out by Jaye on the harmonies.

We would've been pleased to call it a night after a roaring take on "Black and White," the opening salvo from The dB's' Stands for Decibels, delivered by Bully frontwoman and Stone Fox house engineer emeritus Alicia Bognanno. But there was a spectacular finale in store.

After thanking Tyler for giving the musicians a reason to get together, Kurt Wagner transformed from genial, nonchalant Lambchop frontman into a preacher consumed by tongues of fire, writhing and howling his way through a scorching version of The Allman Brothers' "Whipping Post." While Tyler and his fellow Lambchop vet Ryan Norris engaged in an epic guitar duel, Wagner disappeared into the crowd. Schneider comped organ chords on his steel, Lazarus captured Berry Oakley's spirit with jazzy filigrees, and Kotzur played as if he had four arms. Together, they steered the band into Pink Floyd exploding-star territory; when Norris and Tyler reached a boiling point, they drove the band back toward the main riff. Wagner seemed to materialize on stage for the final chorus, soaking the front row with his beer. 

There are some things you can't change, and constant change is one of them. Tyler deserves much credit for bringing four decades of the Nashville underground's definitive musicians together for a sampler platter of performances, which were great whether or not you knew whose regular gig was with which band, or who wrote what hit song. (Tyler the instrumentalist also deserves a shout-out for singing solid back-up all night.) This show was clear proof that, even in the throes of gentrification, the culture that gives our music scene its vital spark is alive and well. We're already daydreaming about the next Willy T. and Friends revue, rumored to be in the works for the week after Christmas.