June 18-19, 2011 The Clearwater Great Hudson River Revival Festival

The annual Clearwater Great Hudson River Revival Festival at Croton on the Hudson was held this past weekend. It is that unusual eclectic mix of activism, music, food and vendors that has come to characterize it. The demographics of the attendees speaks volumes about the reach and scope of the Clearwater Festival: families with children in tow, young people, old people, people with disabilities, veterans, and activists. The festival has something for everyone--story tellers, children’s music, folk music, rock music, dance music—all going on at four separate stages around Croton Park with the backdrop of the Hudson River and the Hudson River Sloop the Clearwater's noble symbol of the organizers' ongoing effort to remove toxic PCPs dumped by GE into the river. There is variety of food spanning the global palate and vendors selling wares of every nation, activists’ booths educating the concert goers to everything from local issues like the Hudson River clean up, the aging Indian Point nuclear reactor, the proposed fracking for natural gas in New York that threatens our water supply, to world issues like the four wars our nation is currently engaged in as the economy sinks toward a new recession or worse. Of course, it is the wide variety of music that draws people forcing the concert goers to make choices they’d rather not make with so much going on during the same time slot. On Sunday, when I was there, the listeners were torn between John Sebastian, James McMurtry or Joe D’Urso; Jorma Kaukonen, Tao Seeger or Buskin and Batteau; Suzanne Vega, David Amram or Jeffrey  Broussard and the Creole Cowboys. How do you choose?  Like a fool I ran around trying to get a taste of everyone. I was disappointed by John Sebastian whose voice has seen better days, lifted up by James McMurtry with his driving sound, mesmerized by Jorma Kaukonen fiery fingers, vaguely interested in Suzanne Vega who has become the standard bearer for Carson McCullers, wished I had spent more time with the Creole Cowboys, and ended the night with Drive-By Truckers who have captured the unique voicing and intonation of Richard Manuel as they eloquently sang about the hardscrabble life that typifies the heartland of America. All in all, the Clearwater Festival was a great success thanks to Pete Seeger who proves that the total of a life can be greater than the sum of its parts.  

June 04, 2011 War Horse

For any of you who want to have a thrilling theatre experience, then you should see War Horse, adapted by Nick Stafford based on the novel by Michael Morpurgo at the Vivian Beaumont Theatre at Lincoln Center. The play has everything that makes for good theatre: a great cast, a wonderful set design,  a story line with a deep emotional core, a musical storyline (although this is not a musical) and of course the horses, in particular Joey, brought to life in the style of the Lion King by the Handspring Puppet Company. The first half of the play is absolutely gripping. The play pulls at your heartstrings as you watch the alcoholic father with his deep-seated inferiority complex wreak havoc on his family and ironically create a lasting bond between his son, Albert Narracott, and the colt, Joey. This relationship remains the very core of the play as we witness both boy and horse mature and grow. The second half of the play depicts the horse going off to war, The War to End All Wars. We witness the untold story of horses on both sides of the battle front, German and British on French soil, and in this case Joey, as Albert searches for him. Here, the emotional core is severed through a series of vignettes that are designed to capture the uses and abuses of the many horses that were used to ferry men into war, pull the wagons, and carry the injured, even as the war itself becomes more technologically sophisticated with the introduction of machines guns, armored tanks, tear gas and mustard gas. Joey is the sole cohesive core to the second half. While we care deeply for animals caught up in manmade wars, and particularly for Joey, we care more for human beings, who unfortunately are reduced to cutouts, as in war itself, and therefore lose our emotional connection. Still, the play is a marvel to behold, a theatre experience to know first hand, and an account of WW I that needs telling. Go see it.

June 01, 2011 Jeff LeBlanc and Mike Krum

Jeff LeBlanc and Mike Krum both headlined at Acoustic Long Island on the first concert of the summer series. Jeff LeBlanc singing style can best be compared to the talented Chris Ayers and Tim Blane. And while his songs were well crafted, they never reached the highs that characterized those two artists. Instead, LeBlanc’s songs can best be described as pretty, the kind of songs that you could snuggle up to with someone you love while sitting by the a fire and want to complete the mood. His songs never reached deep into your soul or lifted you off your seat. For the first half of his set he was accompanied on the duel keyboard by his talented philosophy professor from Sacred Heart University, a man who made you want to go back and reread Socrates, Aristotle and maybe Henri Bergson. For the second half LeBlanc went solo incorporating a music loop machine into his performance. While it was amazing to watch his pyrotechnic footwork as he looped riffs and rhythms and voiceovers, he slowly drifted off into a solipsistic world, where like an onion when you peel back the layers, the core seemed empty and lonely. These machines must be addicting to musicians, much like gazing into two mirrors toward infinity. Unfortunately they produce endlessly layered repetition which contradicts what real music is all about where musicians, not machines, play off each other. This isn’t to say that Jeff LeBlanc doesn’t have some wonderfully rendered songs. Until We Get It Right has a nice vocal reach and emotional pull. His song Believe in a Chris Ayers style is a simple lyrical ballad. He ended the night with the return of his college professor to the stage and their rendition of Bruce Springsteen’s Dancing in the Dark, a sing-along that the audience loved and sang enthusiastically. The keyboardist was driving and inventive, and they played off each without the raw passion of Springsteen, but with a much needed, rousingly closing to the set. More of that please.

Mike Krum was a complete surprise. His singing style evoked Vance Gilbert with all of Vance’s soulfulness and sincerity; there were even shades of Kenny Rankin hidden deep within. There was something real about Krum’s songs that made you want to sit up and listen. On stage, he was often playful and even silly, sometimes self-deprecating and somewhat scattered. However, when he sang, he was transformed into a true artist with something to say about things that mattered: his girl friend, his friends, the breakup of a musical friendship and his generation. That generational theme he captured honestly and reverentially in his song Slacker, certainly something he is not. It would have been nice if he had brought his own guitar instead of playing an instrument that he picked up out of the Acoustic Long Island grab bag closet because the guitar was barely audible. Fortunately, he was accompanied by a wonderfully inventive electric guitarist who filled in all of the gaps, always lingering in the background, augmenting Krum’s voicing and his reach. Mike Krum ended his set with a beautifully soulful song sung in the Vance Gilbert tradition, No More, which is destined to be a classic in its own right.

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.