the Town Hall
Well hold on one minute here Rufus: I already paid $100 for a ticket, why would I wanna spend more? And even if I did, why would I wanna be hustled all night about it? He’s like a stripper trying to get you into the champagne room
Folk isn’t the most exciting of visual life forms and though Willie Watson was a revelation, I still didn’t learn much from the proceedings. Except that the Folk music revival has stalled and that Tom Paxton wasn’t there, is awesome, and I plan to catch him next time he plays.
A swirling soundscape like an acoustic Phish in pop mode, interrupted by subtle pauses and one note segues and somewhere near the middle of the beginning of the end, this: hidden behind all the logic one finds without the truth
The styles mesh more in your head than in your ears but there was a feeling of a tribute to the city which oozes music through the sidewalks second only to New York City. A lot of love and a lot of respect on stage between the two premiere New Orleans pianists. Such a southern night tripper, it was.
I am not a Leo fan but I am guessing it is just one of those things, you can’t like every good singer songwriter, sometimes their cap annoys you or the name -six letters in two words, oh please, rubs you wrong. Or something about their melodies never hits your sweet spot.
Why was such a fine set not a great one? Because it was a professional hit job, it was too occluded, like all charmers, and all relentlessly witty people (I know this because I am one). it is used to hide and not reveal. A fine set, good set, sparkling and wonderfully played.
Watching it is a little unpleasant. He is like the Billy Ray Cyrus of folk.It is a punishing self regard. Compare it to the last time I saw Kate McGarrigle on stage with Martha Wainwright, there the familial regard was so sweet. Their love shone off the stage. Friday night it seemed stunted as LW3 and his crack band, performed a very good set and yet a very sad set
Whether seductively unbuttoning his shirt, careening through his history, trading guitar licks with his son, cracking jokes, laughing, dancing, playing guitar solo after solo and just plain having so much fun we could share in it, Glen brought an early Spring to the middle of this winter. A giant. He’ll be missed
In well cut black pants, a white tux, the androgynously beautiful Birkin looks every bit the living legend, leading her Japanese four piece quasi-jazz band through a treasure trove of Serge Gainsbourg songs and stories.
shut up and sing like an aviator
he takes off his folkie with an agenda hat and sticks on his stetson.