May 14, 2011 Suzzy and Maggie Roche; Julie Gold

Last night in Port Washington, the Landmark Theatre, with it’s new topflight sound system, headlined Suzzy and Maggie Roche along with Julie Gold as their special guest.  Julie Gold best known for her hit song From a Distance made famous first by Nanci Griffith and then Bette Midler, is a song that stands up there in the pantheon of great songs.  Her performance of this song displayed all of her talents: a crisp clear voice along with her stylish piano and, of course, those lyrics. Julie Gold at the Grammy’s said that it was a song that she had been writing her whole life and this audience loved it. It deservedly catapulted her into fame, a song that has been read into the Congressional record, played on the space station when the Americans and Russians linked up for the first time. Sadly, everything else that Julie Gold played last night paled by comparison. Her lyrics, though well-meaning and filled with love and compassion, seemed trite and uninteresting, almost like Broadway show tunes. I’m happy for Julie Gold’s one enormous hit and so is she.

The Roche sisters were nothing less than wonderful. The quirkiness that has characterized their style, their incredible harmonizing, their unique songs were alive and well in living color. What amazed me was that the audience, now in its dotage, and the Roche Sisters, not afraid to show that they too have aged, still connect through their music as if somehow from the opening note, Maggie and Suzzy were able to transcend age and tap into something greater than our lost youth, but instead a well-spring of beauty and truth that is ageless. It was remarkable how timeless their voices are without props and reverb, but two acoustic guitars, a Steinway concert grand piano and a talent for harmonizing that is unparalleled in the music world. They made us laugh, of course, they made us cry, and why not, but there were so many wow moments throughout the night as if there were six people on stage and not two. They played some of their old standards, like Hammond Song and The Train. They sang from their Zero Church album that they created at Harvard, giving a musical voices to people’s heartfelt personal prayers. They performed Jesus Shaves a blasphemously funny, but honest song about a modern day Jesus looking for work and love.  They sang songs from other artists, including Dylan’s Clothes Line Saga which they elevate to pure theatrics. They ended the night with a rousing rendition of the coasters Yakety Yak. For those unfortunate not to know the Roches, there’s still time. They are nothing less than wonderful.

May 4, 2011 Rebecca Jordan and Casey Abrams

Last night at Deepwells Acoustic Long Island hosted Rebecca Jordan and Casey Abrams. Rebecca Jordan turned out to be a real surprise. You sensed immediately that in the rough and tumble music world, Rebecca just might make it. Her stage presence was remarkable for everything that it was not: she was never showy or theatrical. Instead she was demure, unpretentious, and gentle. Yet when she smiled at the audience or spoke about her life and her songs, the audience was attentive and embracing. Her songs showed a wide range of interests from folk to jazz to gospel. She addressed war in her song Battlefield and managed to resist the clichés of dead soldiers while drawing us into the harsh realities of loss. Her song This Town initially drew me in, but I soon tired of it from the endless repetition of the words this town which she wove through the song. It dealt with one person moving on, and those that stayed behind. When it turned out that the one that stayed behind died to a drug overdose, I cringed. If this had been a metaphorical death, I would have been happier, but if it was a real death, as I suspect, it’s time to move on. Love Deluxe was an exquisitely sensuous song. It was the song that first displayed Rebecca Jordan’s range and depth as a performer. Her final song Anchor sung in a true gospel style was rousing and moving. Overall, I found Rebecca Jordan to be an artist in search of herself and her niche in the music world. When she put down her guitar, she broke through her limitations as instrumentalist and erupted with a quiet intensity and passion that has the power to one day electrify. My sense is that folk is not her thing. Jazz, soul, and gospel is where she seemed most comfortable. Her accompanist was absolutely essential. With a minimalism that never overshadowed her he allowed her to shine. With a full band behind her, I wondered if there were even greater heights she could reach.

Casey Abrams turned out to be a big disappointment. I thought that he sounded better in rehearsal than he did in his live performance. I kept thinking Southern rock without the rock, the Allman Brothers without, the inventive licks of the Brothers, Sweet Home Alabama without the passion and driving force. His musical compositions in and of themselves were interesting. Songs like The Scarecrow and the Tin Man and It’s Rained Everyday Since They Closed Down the Zoo, showed off his talents as a song writer, reaching for themes that are complex and interesting. Yet when the set was over I realized that nothing had connected with me, nothing jumped out at me. Sadly, he suffered every musician’s nightmare when he blanked out on his final number. At first, my heart ached for him, but when he persisted in playing the song substituting “la, la, la,” for the lyrics while he improvised on his guitar, I suddenly said enough. I’d like to hear him with a driving band, and something that amps up his vocals. Overall, he never varied his songs and they became lost in one big muddle.

April 10, 2011 Susan Werner, Vance Gilbert & Peter Yarrow

I’ve been a fan of Peter, Paul and Mary since my teenage years when my friends and I used to travel into the city to Gerde’s Folk City and sneak into Westbury Music Fair to hear the three sing. And when Mary died it was a great loss. I was so excited when I learned that Peter Yarrow was coming to Long Island to perform at the The Patchogue Folk Festival, along with Susan Werner and Vance Gilbert.

Susan Werner was wonderful. She sang spirited numbers from her new release Kicking the Bee Hive. Her version of the Our Father deserves its place as a promo to every hypocritical religious preacher who claims to speak for God. Why is Heaven so Small points out so clearly how many people of faith are on the wrong side of God when they condemn us to certain damnation in hell for not being one of the elect. Her wonderful new song Manhattan Kansas, which she played on the piano, is about love and loss and the birth of child showed her willingness to be vulnerable and deeply personal. Her range of playing, her musicianship, her passion for social and political issues, her honesty and her willingness to wear her heart on her sleeve will keep Susan Werner on the stage for years to come.

Vance Gilbert deserves a larger audience. His verbal legerdemain and his sense of humor immediately grabs the audience. The rich timbre of his voice on songs like Unfamiliar Moon, and Lie to Me will always remain powerful and poignant. He knows how to tug at your heart strings. Yet with a simple acoustic guitar he can shift into the Jimi Hendrix song, Castles Made of Sand and make it seem as if Jimi were on the stage. His new songs such as Old Man’s Advice effortlessly blends humor and poignancy, the pain of the racial divide with the undivided love of a son giving voice to his father. Goodbye Pluto may be the haunting story of Vance Gilbert himself searching for the recognition that he deserves while he swirls around the sun and the earth that now relegates him to a non-planetary misunderstood status. No one can hold a note, or reach such majestic musical heights as Vance Gilbert. Just listen to his rendition of Rainy Night in Georgia to know what I mean. People talk about Mariah Carey as if she were the new diva with her five octave range. But Vance is the male equivalent who can do all that and better, without all of the unnecessary theatrics. He connects with his audience. He knows how to talk to us. He knows how to sing with passion and honesty. He makes anyone who loves music a believer.

Peter Yarrow started out with great promise. His new song Don’t Laugh at me resonated strongly with the audience. I thought, “How wonderful is it that this man, this legend is still creating wonderful songs and still traveling the world advocating for peace and justice.” But then the concert deteriorated into one long depressing monologue. He reminded us of and then disregarded Mary Travers' advice not talk incessantly on stage.  While it was appropriate to inform us of the plight of “bullied” and ignored
 children, he seemed to forget that this was a concert and not a lecture hall and that he was preaching to the choir. Just when the audience thought that the lecturing was over, he brought the house lights up, brought his laptop on stage and forced us to listen to his web site where artists from around the world in every language performed this song.  The experience was sheer torture. I felt bullied. By the time he sang his powerfully moving song The Great Mandala, I didn’t care anymore. Instead of being moved, I was angry. Even Puff the Magic Dragon was turned into yet another object lesson in our collective callousness toward children and in Yarrow’s endless and tireless effort to correct this tragic wrong. All I could think was “Shut up, please.” Shockingly, Bob Dylan’s Blowing in the Wind was yet another example of Yarrow’s endless need for interruptions and intrusions. And I felt sorry for Vance and Susan who were compelled to sing along like school children who had never heard of Bob Dylan. It was a sad coda to what should have been a wonderful evening. Fortunately, I have wonderful memories of Peter, Paul and Mary at rallies during the sixties and the seventies. Fortunately, Susan Werner and Vance Gilbert were on hand in Patchogue to brighten up the evening.

April 6, 2011 Ben Carroll & Tom Chapin

Ben Carroll was surprisingly soulful and lyrical. There was sincerity and passion in his songs and in his singing. I did hear Stevie Wonder in his cadence and phrasing, and not James Taylor as some suggest, but instead a touch of Aaron Neville. Ben Carroll is a soul singer which is badly needed during this time when music is often mechanical and driven by a rhythm machine. He held the audience in his hands with his engaging style and could easily have led us out of our seats and into the aisles clapping our hands as if we were all part of a Baptist revival with his final number. He is an artist deserving recognition and with a little help from his friends hopefully he will get it.

Tom Chapin, who I've seen three times, brings the kind of optimism and enthusiasm that really harkens back to the Weavers and the Kingston Trio. Everything in me wants to resist his music having grown up on the darkness of Bob Dylan and the sarcasm of Dick Farina and the political rants of Phil Oches. Yet, he draws me in and the next thing I know I'm singing along and smiling my way out of my post apocalyptic depressive funk. We need people like Tom Chapin who brings so much confidence and enthusiasm to his songs that you want to believe. You know that below the surface, he's hoping to draw us into a better world so that the world can be better, not because he's wearing rose colored glasses. He knows what's out there. But just his sheer stage presence, all 6'6" of it, is going to drag us to the promised land or die trying just so that it can become a reality.

January 6, 2011 Putnam Smith & Jennings

Last night, Putnam Smith initially dazzled with his explosive banjo style. I found the songs interesting for the first half of his set, especially because he chose such mundane topics to sing about, yet elevated the ordinary to a higher plain. But he never did much with his voice and so missed opportunities to take us further or to hit the emotional core that his banjo playing worked to make up for. His guitar and mandolin should have been left at home. The guitar playing was adequate, the mandolin even less so. But by the second half I had lost interest in the songs. They never went far enough. The banjo is a hard instrument to make interesting for sustained periods and Putnam reached his limit. He did have an engaging stage presence and a personality that will make him a darling of house concerts.

Jennings had a beautiful smile and a lovely endearing presence. Her piano playing was limited at best. Her style never varied both on the keyboard and vocally. While she has the potential to become a break out performer, each song very quickly faded into the next until they were inseparable and unmemorable which is a shame since she has the capacity to connect with her audience. Even when she was singing about her mother, the lyrics where lost in her singing style. While she expressed her gratitude to the audience for remaining so attentive, we were in fact struggling to remain focused. She’s got a great range and could make much better use of it through variety of songs. Afterwards, I listened to her CD and was so glad she left the band at home. At the concert I found her percussionist to be overpowering, on the CDs I found the band techno and distracting. I would have liked to hear her solo. But she should learn that variety is the spice of concert life when it comes to play lists. While she heralds from Nashville, she looked New Orleans Mardi Gras to me.

November 5, 2010 Nini and Ben & Air Traffic Controller

Wednesday’s show at Acoustic Long Island was non-stop entertainment. Nini and Ben had driving sound that kept the audience moving. Nini had a wonderful voice, filled with passion and intensity. The band was excellent. The peddle steel guitar, I thought might overwhelm the audience, but was tasteful. The percussionist was talented. I thought that the base player rounded things out even though she hid behind the band. Ben, the song writer, remained the shyest front man yet. Personally, after a while the songs all blended into each and I was hoping for more variety. But Nini had a mixture of Bonnie Raitt and Emmylou Harris in her voice. Of course, when I checked out the inside of the album cover I wished I were young again. When you compare their performance to their album, the group really remained true to what they set out to do in the studio. I’m not sure if it’s folk-rock or country without the twang, but Nini had a palpable stage presence and professionalism. They set up, they played, they left.

Don’t base Air Traffic Controller on their CD that pales by comparison to their live act.  Dave Munro acts as if he’s already made it. He’s got that sense of showmanship and artistry that you can’t ignore. His keyboardist is really the genius behind the music. The group much in the vein of Frank Zappa was completely scripted which works as performance, but never allows those breakout moments. The addition of the string quartet was amazing in the Electric Light Orchestra tradition. Considering that there was no base player or percussionist, they were really tightly wound. I think that the audience was blown away and amazed, but Nini, by comparison, actually got the audience to tap their feet and dance to the music. Dave’s songs were quirky, almost like some of the Beatles numbers with his version of George Martin in the keyboardist making it all happen. Don’t Tell Me What to Do was too derivative, but Bad Axe was actually my favorite song. This Road I enjoyed but on the CD I found it so so. It loses what he created for us at Deepwells in the live performance. So see Air Traffic Controller live and in living color.

October 18 Caroline Doctorow

At the Huntington Folk Music Society Caroline Doctorow performed in their Hard Rock Café.  Sadly, her performance was substandard. I had never realized how little effort she makes to connect with her audience, to sing with any passion, or to enunciate beyond a sultry whisper. The sad thing about her is that she actually has a sweet voice. With the right direction she could make better use of it. Her bass player and lead guitarist are accomplished, she has a wonderful repertoire of standards. Lately she’s been singing Mimi and Dick Farina songs, but ultimately as a performer she’s boring. To reduce Dick Farina to a monotone is quite an accomplishment. Her famous father E.L. might account for her initial claim to fame, but at this point, whatever loyal following she has, apparently enough to keep her on the circuit, can’t include me in that number.