No Through Trucks

I suppose I should say a word or two about the latest Derek Trucks showing, and compare it to the other 6(?) times I’ve seen them, but what is there to say except that DTB was good as always and the 9:30 Club was really smokey. Kofi was probably super high as he was more animated than I’d ever seen him, standing up in the middle of a solo and banging out the bass chords with his fist, bellowing “I have a Wah-Wah pedal” during a particularly wokka-wokka keyboard part, and acting the preacher during their gospel number, testifying that “one man saved his life” — nope, not Jesus, but Derek Trucks! I picked up their new album Songlines which is interesting in that each song flows into the next, much like at their shows. On the whole it’s worth the $15 and it’s nice to hear Mattison on a studio release, but unfortunately it fails to live up to past glory like Soul Serenade when all the songs were brand new. There are definitely a lot more people at shows compared with
6 years ago so the word is getting out.

Busy

This weekend is shaping up to be a full one. Six points music festival is going on, but my money is going to the 9:30 Club to see DTB again. I hear they have a whole new setlist and a new CD, so that should be a good change of pace. On top of that: apartment shopping, batting practice, guitar lesson, baking, yardwork, etc. w00t.

Band

It’s about time I got back on the road again. The Herndon circuit. Crossroads, will you ever let me go? So, I’m auditioning for a new band next Tuesday. If all turns out well, I’ll be back where I belong this summer: playing cheesy 80s pop songs to drunk people who don’t care what day it is much less that there’s a band playing. Before I get there though, I have to pass the audition, and before that, I have to learn forty songs this weekend. I heard you had a big mp3 collection…

Holidays are here again

For those still looking for gifts, Shinedown is the best Soundgarden cover band this side of Audioslave. And, the CD doesn’t have any of that XCP BS. Not to be confused with Trey Anastasio’s solo effort, Shine, which does have XCP, and it really sucks besides.

Weary of travel, I am spending the X-mas and New Year’s here in VA. I’m going to cook a turkey on Christmas morning with AC. Should any friends reading this feel like joining us in person, you are more than welcome to drop by. There will be way too much food for the two of us to eat. Also, my yearly confession of no social life: invite me to your NYE party, kthx.

Bad music

My new contender for worst song ever is the dance mix of “Kiss the Rain.” Somehow I managed to escape this song for most of its lifetime; however, it caught up with me: they play it every single time I am at the gym. Hearing the lady wail a barely-on-key refrain over and over and over again provides a strong incentive to either work out more often such that if I ever meet the guilty sampler, I may handily pummel him, or else to never work out again. I’m not sure which.

Also, gym people, please stop playing anything by Cher, kthx.

Labor days are here again

Now that it’s Wednesday, it’s time to recap the weekend. I’m a slacker.

Saturday night I had the pleasure of seeing Derek Trucks Band (again) with Angeline up at the Recher. DTB was in good form with a mostly new set (not even Joyful Noise made an appearance) featuring some good gospel-y numbers and a straight-ahead jazz rendition of Greensleeves. Good stuff, listen for yourself.

A pleasant surprise was Baltimore-based opener Jayakar, who turned out a set full of nicely arranged, funky, memorable jam tunes. Apart from some weakness in the vocals department, the band has got it together and I look forward to seeing them on their own soon.

On top of that, we discovered a nearby billiards and table tennis Mecca, as well as a nice place for a five mile hike. Thus I suggest a new slogan for the Maryland tourism board: “Baltimore: why not?”

Weekend

So, the weekend was a smash. It began on Saturday (as many weekends do), with the fun that is removing kitchen cabinets. Armed with a crowbar, an electric screwdriver, and a healthy disregard for safety, Angeline and I tore into the melamine boxes, liberating screws and nails from twenty years of servitude. In the space of a couple of hours, we pulled out all of the base cabinets, the countertop, and the range hood. We then took a break and screened Jerome’s new favorite movie, Wedding Crashers. I concur with his review.

The next morning I unwired all of the appliances in preparation for the arrival of hired hands Scott and Jerome. I didn’t even electrocute myself. After help arrived, we drew on Scott’s extensive mechanical engineering background and J’s immense skill in belt-tightening to move the big stuff in about half an hour. Then we chatted a bit over a beer and an orange (it’s a breakfast drink). I’d blog more about this but it really deserves a podcast.

Sunday evening I went to go see the Dragonflys [sic]. I went solo but had a great time anyway. The State was sparsely populated, so I was one of only maybe half a dozen people in the dance floor area — most other patrons had taken a table. Barraco joked, “what is this, dinner theater?” I situated myself just to the left of Jimmy Herring’s monitor, directly in front of the stage (a convenient place, by the way, to rest one’s Sam Adams). This ensured the mix that I heard was about 95% Jimmy’s Super Reverb and 5% everyone else. They played a lot of the tunes from the CD which I am completely unfamiliar with (note, Jimmy does not appear on the recording), but there were also a few blues and jam tunes on which the band wailed. In fact the only song I recognized was a perfect cover of Steely Dan’s Kid Charlemagne. Larry Carlton’s solo on that song is widely considered one of the best rock solos of all time, and Jimmy resisted the urge to go crazy, playing the solos note for note. On other tunes, Herring played firey jazz lines, always with a wry smile peeking out under his beard, and at times full on laughter when he and another band member would quote each other’s phrases. I couldn’t hear Barraco that well, but he is a fine keyboard player with a good voice. The bandmates connected for tight vocal harmonies and plenty of rhythmic and melodic interest. In all, the show was well worth the $13 and if Jimmy ever blows up, I’m going to miss being able to watch from ten feet away.

That guy named after fish

People often ask me to recommend new music. They ask, I presume, because radio sucks now, and because, as a musician, I must have my fingers on the pulse of the underground. Unfortunately, my few musical discoveries have been more or less serendipitous, or else the artists that I do like are not accessible to the average non-musician. (My mom once said of a frenetic Coltrane solo, “That sounds like a bunch of noise.” “Of course,” I replied.)

But here is a brand new band, whom I haven’t ever heard, yet who I know will destroy every other band in their path. Called The Dragonflys (yes, spelled thus), the band features Jimmy Herring on guitar and Rob Barraco on keys, both of The Dead and many other bands. I have waxed rhapsodic about Jimmy Herring before, so I’ll neglect to do so again. But this weekend’s show at The State Theater is going to be an amazing set, and I’ll stake a pile of cash on that without having listened to a single Dragonflys track.

Dragonflys. The State. Sunday. 8:30pm. I encourage both of my readers to attend.

EJ

Last night I went to go see the guitarist Eric Johnson. This makes the fifth show of his that I’ve seen. It was a decent show, but I don’t think EJ brought anything new to this tour. He has a new CD out (I haven’t heard it) and most of the selections he played from it were less than stellar, except “12 to 12” which has been in his setlist for years. Anyway, he played lots of Ah Via stuff including “Cliffs of Dover” which I am happy to learn is hybrid picked. String skipping that intro is damn near impossible.

I’m also coming to the realization that EJ can’t improvise his way out of a paper bag. The protracted opening to “Cliffs” had no direction apart from “play a set of dispersed triads in a random key center and then play a fast descending pentatonic lick.” Melodic development in many of his solos was absent, which is a shame because the guy does possess the ability to write good lines (see Manhattan’s non-improvised jazz solo).

What did make the ticket price worthwhile was opener Josh Dion Band. Dion is a energetic singer/drummer with great chops on both sides of the slash. His band, a seven person crew with keys, bass, guitar, and three backup singers, delivered a high powered set of funk that never flagged. I’m looking forward to seeing these guys again.