Line up if Dave Matthews tickles your fancy, you’re wooed by John Mayer, or today’s light alternative intrigues you in a reminiscent modern day upper class hippy way over darkened candlelit dinners. Backed up by a guitar, a fill in bassist, drummer, trumpeter among the audience, and talented keys, former frontman for King of France, Steve Salett brings his latest project Poison Tree to Joe’s Corner Pub. He sings softly with an upbeat energy in between sips of whiskey and peculiar comments to his crowd. He projects a smooth sound in the dim light with some seductive playfulness that lulls the crowd into contemplative head nods to the beat matched with lyrics nostalgic of teenage love and angst.
While enjoyable to listen to, I couldn’t help but be reminded that it had been a while since i had been truly rocked. Granted, in this particular situation I wasn’t quite sure what I was getting myself into. I ventured off to the musical gathering on a $14 whim hoping for a new beat to jive to, but that wasn’t necessarily what I found. Instead I found myself pondering the state of modern day music. Here we go.
Aside from heavy metal, underground dive stages, and living room jam sessions I search the airwaves to find a modern day Led Zeppelin or Hendrix. Big music today that fills concert halls, grassy festival stages or even rooms of 300 are in the realm between Grateful Dead projects and other remaining 60s and 70s stringing out “back in the day” and middle aged suburban groups inspired to get high from Jack Johnson’s lyrical bubbles with a massive chunk of very talented yet whiney vocalized indie rock bands making up the middle. What happened to rock? What happened to the blues inspired tales of something to fight for? Or something to live for?
Perhaps this sort of youthful inspiration just doesn’t exist to the level it use to. The inspiration that empowers Robert Plant at 22 to make growls and uncanny yelps over Jimmy Page’s divine riffs in front of hundreds of thousands of flailing fans offering their devotion to them. Or Deep Purple’s entrancing string pulls in Lazy that takes you into a lazy sex Sunday with nothing to lose and only dreams of freedom. Outside of funk, hip-hop and reggae its rare to find a tune that will make my legs involuntarily move to something not from this world. Maybe I’m not looking hard enough. Maybe they’re at Banaroo under the smaller stages or wrecking havoc in Austin at SWSX. Maybe I’m just stuck in the 60’s and 70’s wishing for a day that I never lived in but always wished I could experience.
I’m no musician, but I know what it’s like to split your brow open on a shot glass because your head banging strokes were just too close to the table; you have to keep going because Aerosmith and Queen sure won’t stop for a little bit of blood on your forehead. I ask again, where’s that rock. Where’s those story inspired chills from the passion of the depth of heart that turn the sky into kaleidoscope eyes?
Back to the present: Poison Tree at Joe’s Pub was nice. It was pleasant. But, fourteen bucks a second time wouldn’t be worth a soft Andy Newman and John Mayor whiskey induced love-child tune dewed up in rock-a-billy that decides to, as he puts it, “really start trying” two songs before the end of the lullaby. Follow the cult classics if it is a must. Have a nice evening out over the candles and $16 Mojitos; I’ll be in the dive stage in the basement.