Amy Correia is irritated just by the memory. Sincerely irritated. Standing centerstage with an extended band trumpet, bass, cello violin, drums, four chick back up singers, she tells of being interviewed by “American Songwriter”: “He asked if ‘Powder Blue Trans Am’ was based on me or a character.” She is livid, and throughout the set, her 3rd of a four week Thursdays residency at Bowery Electric, her mask of professional niciness disappears and what is seen, through her music, through her attitude, is a steely pro who doesn’t like being messed around. For a singer-songwriter, it is as if the sugary moon-June of pop, even the ravished soul of an early Joni Mitchel, or lost romance of Tapestry era Carole King, is not enough for this hard headed woman. On the other hand, the chorus to the song in question goes “I can’t get a man and I’ve and I’ve tried”. Maybe she has a point?
But before we see Amy we see Amy’s cellist playing a wonderful set. Know how I said you can imagine Amy being, how you say, difficult. You can’t imagine Marika being anything but the sweetest person on earth.
There are somethings neither money nor talent will buy you: that is the ability to be liked. Marika is so damn affable. “Oh hello,” she says interrupting her set, then explains to us, “My best friend from 8th grade” before continuing with her set.
Marika defines her gifts with the first lyric she sings: “Dark clouds don’t always bring rain…”. The song is a haunting beauty, a folk melody with a twisting bass line yet… my notes say “folk rainbow” so I will trust that judgement. Later on she will introduce a number by telling the story of seeing this boy nearby her home in San Francisco all the time and feel her heart race whenever he went by, then she sings the country swing “Bicycle Boy” and if there is a more airily cheerful song about unrequited love, I sure don’t know it. Marika’s second number was a rolling nursery rhyme, free spirited, light hearted, and that includes Marika’s cello playing.
When you think of the cello you might well think of chamber music: a dire swelling of strings that portends to scarier things. But Marika has found a way to integrate her fine, very controlled, very restrained, playing into a group setting. neither being coloration, nor easy effect, it is, in the end, a lovely sound playing the part of a second guitar.
On stage, Marika is easy going and charming but a suggestion: she should find a stand for her instrument instead of holding it all the time.
Still, it was an unusual and pleasurable way to spend some times with such a damn likable person. Or have I said that?
Have you ever been to a girl you’re dating’s family reunion? Well, the break between sets felt like that only my date had disappeared. The set was well attended for sure but they all seemed to be friends and I felt like doing what I usually do during gettogethers: heading for the kitchen.
I both loved and didn’t love Amy Correia’s set. Part of that is personal taste. If you can cut her music in half, one part is like Lucinda Williams in country blues mode and the other part is Rickie Lee Jones circa Flying Horses. I vastly prefer the latter to the former.
Don’t get me wrong, she does it all very, very well. From the opening “Driving In The Sun” through bluesy strolls, to extended jam outs to horn supplements, Amy has her band in full attack mode. This is a new beginning for Amy, she hasn’t played with full bands before, but she keeps everything under firm control.
The sense of musical exploration is a joy to listen to and when it catches fire, in the lapsed catholic girls thoughts on religion “Celli” it is as glorious a sound as you can imagine. The word people keep on using is “rugged” but for the most part her ruggedness didn’t do it for me. It was on the gentler, lovelier, songs like “Celli” and a stunningly beautiful “Love Changes Everything” where the cracked and beautiful sounding Amy captures the moment completely.
The band is cracker -especially the bass player, who played guitar for Marika. They fit nicely and there is a sense if exploration throughout the set. During one song the horn player and violinist take solo turns and Amy admits this is the first time she has attempted solo arrangements. It is that sort of learning curve but most stuff is already learned: country, rock, blues, even high culture show tunes seem easily held together by the band.
Mid set Amy invites singer Anais Mitchell on stage to sing a sub-Adam Guettel number which, though it might work in context, seemed a little weak out of context. Anais would join the back up singers for the highlight of the set, a rip roaring smash through “Powder Blue Trans Am” is an exhilarating, singalong, with its tongue so fully in its cheek, and the freedom of sound, setting the world free, “Can’t get a man, doing everything I can, coming round the corner in my powder blue trans am”. And when the back-up singers join in it is a different type of feminism, it is the sort of feminism that sets you free to laugh at yourself.
Amy tells of doing a disastrous cover of “Rhinestone Cowboy” for the encore but tonight we are getting “Bicycle” and it is a fine sendoff.
If this doesn’t read like a rave it still is a rave, I don’t much care for the genre and Carreia’s leathery and tough vocals, her badass hiding under polite personality, her joy in musical creation, all together they were enough to leapfrog my prejudice.
Carreia is playing next Thursday at 630p at Bowery Electric. Ten bucks. The new album is You Go Your Way and out now.