Robert Christgau on Joan Jett in 1988, “Jesus I wish she was just a little better than she actually is.”
Hayes Carll flirts with greatness enough on record that he would be easy to overrate. On songs like the sinner’s paradise “Drunken Poet’s Dream” or the delightfully mirthful hobo tribute “Bottle in My Hand,” which includes guest appearances from fellow travelers Todd Snider and Corb Lund, Carll reaches a level of twang perfection that most of his Dylan inspired alt-country competitors never approach. However, he can often be one dimensional, such as on “Good Friends” where the punchlines don’t inspire repeated listening or on “Beaumont,” an unrequited love story that isn’t fully developed. Vocally, he bends notes like a shaggy dog illegitimate son of John Anderson and exudes a winning laconic confidence in his material (including the jokes) on stage. I have seen him several times live, twice in the glorified cavernous shed that is Fort Worth’s Billy Bob’s and at a few local bars, and have never been disappointed until last night. In addition to his growing catalogue of good material, his regular touring unit lacks nothing in the snap/crackle/pop department.
Hayes has momentarily ditched his regular band to play with Warren Hood and the Goods. Hood is an Austin based classically trained violinist working in the family tradition. Champ Hood, his late father, also sawed on the strings, supporting Texas notables Lyle Lovett and Kelly Willis. Hood’s band opened the show and then provided support for Hayes. Hood is a fine violinist, but a natural sideman. Fronting his own unit, he’s an unexceptional vocalist that lacks stage presence. His backing band included one of the most tepid rhythm sections I’ve ever seen and a guitarist that clearly didn’t understand the difference between playing notes and playing within the context of a band.
I have no idea why Hayes is performing his usual setlist with a clearly inferior unit. Whether it was the lack of rhythmic propulsion or inspiration, he was unusually flat vocally. The difference between a good band and a bad one was clearly on display. On a normal night, his supporting cast will carry Hayes through the marginal material and can galvanize a hard charging rocker, like the asymmetrical warfare fantasy “KMAG YOYO,” into the stratosphere. Last night, nothing was particularly good. It wasn’t a train wreck spectacle, but it was relentless uninspired mediocrity, which is probably worse.
As a songwriter, Hayes has become the alt-country Loudon Wainwright III. He has mastered being clever and is working on being heartfelt. Hopefully, he will mature enough lyrically to become an artist that you feel emotionally invested in. As of now, he’s consistently endearing on record, which is better than most.
As the crowd grew restless last night for the type of red meat hard rock adrenaline rush that his normal band regularly delivers, a member of the audience interrupted one of Carll’s lengthy monologues with a terse request to “play the damn song.” Taken aback, Hayes responded, “I will in a minute after I finish this story. Am I boring you?” The answer was a resounding and uncharacteristic yes.
Grade – D
Setlist:
Beaumont
Little Rock
It’s a Shame
Drunken Poet’s Dream
Love Don’t Let Me Down
I Got a Gig
Wild as a Turkey
Chances Are
Good Friends
Bible on the Dash
The Magic Kid
Bad Liver and a Broken Heart
Hard Out Here
KMAG YOYO
Another Like You
Note: I left at this point. He probably did an encore, but at this point I knew a bad show wasn’t going to get any better.