Spring Show Preview revue: Sweet, Rundgren, Southern Culture on the Skids, Black Joe Lewis, Tragicially Hip

Here are some show previews that I penned in the last few months. Yes, it's too late to see these shows, but maybe you can catch the bands the next time around.


Sweet at House of Blues
While scoring hits in the ’70s with classic rock staples “Ballroom Blitz,” “Little Willy” and “Fox on the Run,” Sweet never garnered the hip cachet of its British rock brethren. T.Rex and Mott the Hoople were cooler; Queen and ELO were more extravagant, and Bowie was Bowie. Sweet’s glam-pop sound came off, well, a little too sweet — and the name undoubtedly fed bubblegum comparisons. However, listening to Sweet’s new Shout! Factory anthology, Action, isn’t an empty-calorie experience. Besides their well-known singles, the fun-packed double-disc set revives big riff rockers like “Action,” “Teenage Rampage” and “The Lies in Your Eyes,” along with curios like “Alexander Graham Bell” and the Caribbean-flavored “Poppa Joe.” With bassist Steve Priest (immortalized in the “Are you ready, Steve?” line from “Ballroom Blitz”) the only remaining original member, there’s always the question of how, exactly, this incarnation will recreate the Sweet sound (and whether they’ll wear those silly knickers), but, still, it should make for a jolly night of “Wig-Wam Bam” rock & roll. (Michael Berick)

FRIDAY, MAY 15

LUCERO, BLACK JOE LEWIS & THE HONEYBEARS AT THE TROUBADOUR
If you get lit up by the sounds of James Brown and his Famous Flames, Otis Redding and the Bar-Kays or Wilson Pickett backed by Stax or Muscle Shoals men, then lend an ear to Black Joe Lewis & the Honeybears. This Austin-based outfit vividly revives the sweet soul music and ribald R&B of their forefathers. Their recently released Lost Highway debut, Tell ’Em What Your Name Is! (produced by Spoon’s Jim Eno), explodes with heated blasts of guitars, organ and horns on the dynamo opener “Gunpowder.” They rip through more garage-soul hip-shakers like “Sugarfoot,” “Boogie” and “Bobby Booshay” while mixing in “oh, baby” pleaders like “Please, Pt. Two” and the country blues excursion “Master Sold My Baby.” While some critics quibble that the band hews too closely to its influences, there’s no denying that the guitar-wielding Lewis and his Honeybears deliver some seriously rockin’ funk. With Redding, Pickett and Brown all long gone, young Lewis has arrived to carry their torch with his hot and sweaty house-party ruckus. Sharing the bill is the twangy, ’Mats-ish Memphis-based bar rockers Lucero. Also at Alex’s Bar, Fri. (Michael Berick)

Todd Rundgren
Philly boy Todd Rundgren has long been one of Cleveland's favorite adopted sons. He headlined a World Series of Rock at the old stadium back in the day, and his 1978 Back to the Bars live album was partly recorded at the Cleveland Agora. Plus, he's a classic-rock staple here. While enjoying mighty success with sublime tunes like "I Saw the Light" and "Hello It's Me," Rundgren has taken a "something/anything" approach to his career. Like David Bowie (another Cleveland fave from way back), he's a rock 'n' roll chameleon. He effortlessly dishes up classic rock, Philly soul, heavy metal, prog-rock, show tunes and ribald ditties — sometimes on the same album, sometimes playing all the instruments too. His eccentric experimentations have resulted in rewarding whims (like his fun 1980 Beatles parody, Deface the Music) as well as some muddy self-indulgence (how many remember his '90s TR-i phrase?). Throughout his career, he's been a sought-after producer, with a résumé that includes Patti Smith, the New York Dolls, Grand Funk Railroad and Meat Loaf. Rundgren recently fronted the New Cars, which helped revitalize his love for guitar rock and led to his latest effort, Arena. While not hitting his heyday's highs, it's a strong rock outing solidified by muscular tracks like "Gun," "The Last Recluse" and the shimmering "Courage." He may not dress up in Egyptian regalia anymore or have flowing, multi-colored hair, but he's still Todd — a dream that goes on forever. Doors opens at 7:30 at the Palace Theatre (1501 Euclid Ave., 216.241.6000, playhousesquare.com). Tickets range from $10-$40. — Michael Berick

5-22: Southern Culture on the Skids/Los Straitjackets

It’s an Americana kitsch party when Southern Culture on the Skids (pictured) and Los Straitjackets pull their doublewide into town tonight. The two veteran groups draw upon a wide range of roots music: rockabilly, country, surf, garage-rock and Tex-Mex — and do so with a heavy slathering of humor. Los Straitjackets perform while wearing colorful Mexican wrestling masks, and SCOTS, who look like country cousins of the B-52s, get duded up in trailer-park chic. But what’s often overlooked among all their corny schtick is just how talented both bands are. On The Further Adventures Of …, Los Straitjackets rumble through their patented surfabilly-noir instrumentals, proving again they’re one of the top instrumental units working these days. SCOTS’ hick antics hide the fact that frontman Rick Miller is a mighty fine guitar picker. On their most recent album, the 2007 covers collection Countrypolitian Favorites, they dish out straightforward and wonderful renditions of Nashville nuggets like Joe South’s “(I Never Promised You a) Rose Garden” and George Jones’ “Let’s Invite Them Over,” alongside inventively twangy interpretations of the Kinks’ “Muswell Hillbilly,” the Who’s “Happy Jack” and T. Rex’s “Life’s a Gas.” Between SCOTS and Los Straits, this show definitely should be a gas. It’s at 9 p.m. at the Beachland Ballroom (15711 Waterloo Rd., 216.383.1124). Tickets: $20. — Michael Berick

5-31: Tragically Hip at HOB

There’s probably no bigger “big in Canada” band than the Tragically Hip. Over the past 25 years, they’ve racked up more than a dozen Juno Awards (Canada’s equivalent to the Grammys). They were also inducted into the Canadian Music Hall of Fame. The remarkably unchanged quintet remains guided by charismatic frontman Gordon Downie, whose passionate vocals and poetic lyrics make him something like a Maple Leaf Michael Stipe, while dueling guitarists Rob Baker and Paul Langlois fortify the band’s powerful, arena-filling sound. But the Hip’s latest album, We Are the Same, isn’t more of the same. There are a few signature rock thunderbolts (“Frozen in My Track” and “Love Is a First” — curiously, both are tucked in at the disc’s end), but the album’s tone is overall quieter and more subtle. The album’s bookends, “Morning Moon” and “Country Day,” boast wistful, bucolic R.E.M.-like qualities. The group pulls together its soft/hard elements on “Now the Struggle Has a Name,” a six-plus-minute emotional epic that sets the stage for the record’s centerpiece, the nine-and-a-half-minute “The Depression Suite.” This ambitious, three-part orchestral-rock opus should figure prominently onstage since it plays to the Hip’s chief strengths: Downie’s intense rock-poet persona, balanced by the band’s classic-rock dramatics. Showtime is 8 p.m. at House of Blues (308 Euclid Ave., 216.523.2583, hob.com). It’s sold out. — Michael Berick

My Morning With Marty

I had the pleasure of attending the press day for Sparkle & Twang: Marty Stuart’s American Musical Odyssey at the Autry National Center of the American West. It’s a wonderful exhibition filled with historic items from Marty Stuart’s personal collection. While, naturally, it’s filled with memorabilia from Stuart’ long, illustrious career, there are also a great many items that he has collected from the American roots music scene at large - like a colorful array of Nudie suits, guitars (particularly some classic Johnny Cash guitars) and other fascinating items (such as a set of ties from the Lester Flatt band).
What made this walk-through extra special was that Marty Stuart himself played host. He provided behind-the-exhibit stories, like how Johnny Cash’s grandma sewed some J.C. Penney edging onto a suit after she saw him perform on a show with a more flamboyantly dressed Elvis Presley. He also talks about becoming friendly with Hank Williams’ sister Irene and described how he proclaimed, after meeting singer Connie Smith when he was 12, that he was going to marry her, which is what he ended up doing.
Visitors also can enjoy a good many of Stuart’s anecdotes in this well-annotated exhibit - like the concert where the Lester Flatt band (which a young Stuart was in at the time) shared a bill with the Eagles and Gram Parsons.
As this exhibit amply demonstrates, Stuart should be applauded for having the foresight for collecting, preserving and sharing so much of Country Music’s past. This show is a must-see for anyone interested not only in American music but 20th Century American culture as a whole.

Sparkle & Twang: Marty Stuart’s American Musical Odyssey runs at the Autry National Center of the American West (4700 Western Heritage Way, Los Angeles) from April 16 through August 23. Admission is $9 for adults, $5 for students and seniors, and $3 for kids 3-12. For more information, visit www.AutryNationalCenter.org.

Marissa Nadler

I was at Los Angeles’ Hotel Café the other night and caught an opening set from Marissa Nadler. I wasn’t much familiar with her beyond having seen her name around but I was glad to have seen her set. Nadler has been labeled with the freak folk tag, which she is and she isn’t. There is a definitely a mystical quality about both her and her music. With long dark hair, dark eyes and an introspective stage presence, she comes off as being a couple years matured from a post-goth period. Her songs are semi-twisted tales (one line went: “Silvia, I met you in a belly of a whale”) that she sings in a semi-quivery voice. The combination suggests a slightly odd blending of Joan Baez and Bob Dylan gone on a traditional English folk song kick. In fact, more than being a freak folkie, Nadler makes music in the dark art folk vein. It’s telling when her “lightest” song is a cover of Leonard Cohen’s “Famous Blue Raincoat.” She was backed by a band for this show (a drummer, bassist and guitarist) that added to her music’s dreamy hallucinatory effect. They sounded a bit like a muted Cowboy Junkies. Nadler revealed at the end of the set that this was the first show with this backing band and that might have explained why the arrangements didn’t quite come together. Close but not fully transcendent. While the guitarist provided some vivid textures, it didn’t feel like there was enough dramatic tension in the music. However, maybe that was part of the point – to create a dark and dreamy sound that floated along with Nadler’s dark and dreamy songs. My lack of familiarity with the songs also uncut my full understanding and appreciation of the lyrics, although they projected an eerie, timeless quality. But it does say something that these beguiling performance is still staying with me a few days after the fact.
Nadler has a new album Little Hells (a seemingly appropriate title) that just came out on the Kemado Records label.

My Lowe-down on the new Nick Lowe Best Of disc

NICK LOWE
• Quiet Please...The New Best Of Nick Lowe {Yep Roc}
• by michael berick
Quiet Please is, as it subtitle indicates, not Nick Lowe's first Best Of (that's 16 All Time Lowes), his biggest Best Of (The Doings), his most hits-packed Best Of (Basher), or his most rarities-filled Best Of (The Wilderness Years). But this two-disc collection is his most comprehensive Best Of, and, perhaps, his best Best Of. Its 49 tracks follow Lowe's entire solo career, along with stops at various group efforts (from Brinsley Schwarz through Rockpile to Little Village) along the way.

The compilation commences with the rousing Brinsley gem "(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love And Understanding" (later co-opted by Elvis Costello and Curtis Stigers). Disc one cherry-picks Lowe's favorite tunes from Pure Pop For Now People through Pinker And Prouder Than Previous. The second disc contains his more recent, "quieter" work. The collection's chronological nature winds up showing a man evolving from clever youth to introspective middle age.

As with any collection, there are quibbles over song choices. Only one Brinsley tune (and, less disappointingly, one from Little Village) and two Rockpile tracks appear. Completists might grumble over the lack of previously unreleased cuts, and the rarities are few and not particularly revelatory. The Bowi EP obscurity "Endless Sleep" might be a precursor to his current sound, but it's wedged amidst more brightly colored Pure Pop pleasures.

Minor qualms aside, this retrospective wonderfully reveals Lowe's many musical moods (from silly to serious, from rock to country to soul and many combinations within those), and serves as a terrific reminder of what a master songcraftsman he is.

New Old Souls

Soul music aficionados will welcome the arrival of a trio of new discs that all uphold classic soul traditions. In fact, these three discs - The Revelations’ Deep Soul (www.decisionrecords.com), Black Joe Lewis and The Honeybears’ Tell ‘Em What Your Name Is (www.losthighwayrecords.com) and Naomi Shelton and the Gospel Queens’ What Have You Done, My Brother? (www.daptonerecords.com) - provide a full weekend’s worth of soul-filled listening.

Friday night belongs to the Revelations. This Brooklyn-based sextet serves up seductively smooth soul that’s seasoned with some street grittiness. Although the savvy band lays down “deep soul” grooves, the key to the band are its singers: lead vocalist Tre’ Williams’ silky urgency couples wonderfully with his supporting singer, Rell (a one-time Roc-A-Fella artist who also penned Usher’s hit “Here I Stand”). The band’s budding magic percolates throughout this disc, from the dynamic leadoff track “Stay Off” to the timeless vibe of “Everybody Knows” and wrapping up with the potent one-two punch of “Heavy Metal Blues” and the Curtis Mayfield-flavored “He’s A Hustler.” There are only seven songs on Deep Soul, although the band goes on to slow jam into the night with a full set of instrumental renditions to fill out this disc.

If the Revelations establish a mood for a romantic Friday night, then Black Joe Lewis cranks out party music for a raucous Saturday night. Lewis’ inspiration is James Brown, and he doesn’t really try to disguise it. (he thanks Brown is the liner notes). His supercharged debut disc explodes with his band’s blast of JB-like horns and his own Brown-esque grunts and shouts on the fiery opening tracks “Gunpowder” and “Sugarfoot.” But Lewis and his Austin-based crew are too wild a bunch to be mere Brown knockoffs. He spins a funny tale of a ladies’ man’s comeuppance in the funky “Get Yo Shit’ while he’s just as convincing showing less bravado on the gritty “I’m Broke.” But the rowdy workouts like “Big Booty Woman,” “Bobby Booshay” and “Boogie” rule the day here, and give Lewis the chance to showcase his electric guitar chops too. Although he doesn’t fully escape Brown’s shadow here (you can visualize him dropping to his knees ala Brown during the closer “Please Pt. Two”), Lewis definitely puts on a captivating, attention-grabbing performance here.

After all of Lewis’ ribald ways, it’s only natural to turn to some Sunday salvation. And that’s when it’s Naomi Shelton’s time. This Brooklyn singer provides a splendid bridge between soul and gospel. While her inspiring music speaks to God, it isn’t strictly gospel music. The sixty-something Shelton sings with a commanding, suffer-no-fools voice – something like if Tina Turner had stayed in the church and not ended up playing arenas (although the opening song “What Is This” makes one think that it’s something Dylan might have done). The playing here is the most restrained of these three discs, but it’s expertly done (performed by various Dap-tones and ex-Wilson Pickett sideman Cliff Driver). And her backing singers, the Gospel Queens, sound like they could have walked right out of a Brill Building session. This is just a glorious disc, populated with memorable tracks like the revival tent rouser “Trouble In My Way”, the politically charged Am I asking Too Much” and the moving cover of Sam Cooke’s “A Change Is Going To Come.” Daptone Records, who has already introduced the sensational Sharon Jones to the world, has found another soul-stirring singer in Naomi Shelton.
Show all

The Hot Panda Experience

Looking for the next “hot” band? There’s already Hot Hot Heat and Hot Chip. Now welcome Hot Panda. They come from chilly Edmonton, Alberta, although the band’s co-founders Chris Connelly and Maghan Campbell apparently drew musical inspiration from their time living in Oslo, Norway.
So, what’s the sound? It’s a giddy, rapid-fire pop-rock. A bit New-Wave-y, but they aren’t afraid to bash away at their guitars either. Nor are they afraid pick up an accordion, glockenspiel or kazoo. It’s the type of dial-a-style, ADD rock that their western neighbors in the Vancouver scene (think the New Pornographers) dish up. But also add in a dose of the cheeky, chant-y UK punk-pop of groups like Los Campesinos and Johnny Foreigner, and you get a sense of where Hot Panda is coming from.
Their thoroughly delightful debut disc Volcano…Bloody Volcano came out in February on Mint (home to other off-kilter Canadian banks like The Buttless Chaps, Immaculate Machine and Young & Sexy). It’s a disc that I’ve returned to frequently over the last couple months. Volcano’s a zippy joyride through Connelly’s odd tales navigated through the twisty, bouncy melodies. Kooky, catchy tracks like “Cold Hands/Chapped Lips,” “It’s Worth Eight Dollars,” “Afraid of the Weather” and “Whale Headed Girl” all stick in the synapses.
I went to see them at their L.A. debut at the Mint on March 25, and they were just as winning live - full of goofy humor, joyous playing and herky-jerky rhythms. Singer Connelly might be a bit of an acquired taste with his slightly theatrical, sometimes-yippy-sometimes-adenoidal croon, but he never tries to be too serious which makes him more endearing than annoying.
Their spirited, crazy-quilted pop-rock sound makes them a band to keep an eye on.

Cowboy Vs. Cowboy

I recently received new discs from Ian Tyson and Michael Martin Murphey, and listening to them amounted to something of a cowboy music duel.
Tyson made a name for himself during the Sixties folk boom as one half of Ian & Sylvia, who were best known for the popular tune “Four Strong Winds” (and have been called the source for the characters Mitch and Mickey in Christopher Guest affectionate folk parody A Mighty Wind).
However, in recent years, he saddled up with cowboy music. In fact, earlier this year, he received a lifetime achievement award at this year’s Cowboy Poetry Gathering. His new disc Yellowhead To Yellowstone And Other Love Stories (www.stonyplainrecords.com) continues along this same western path. There are songs about cowboys, horses and wild wolves. Even the tunes about contemporary California (“Blaino’s Song”) and hockey commentator Don Cherry (“My Cherry Colored Rose”) sound like tales of the Old West.
The major change here is the change in Tyson’s voice, which sounds rather ravished due to an apparently permanent singing injury. While he affects a nice croon on “Lioness”, his hoarse vocals are something of a distraction and limit his disc’s appeal to hardcore Western music buffs.
Michael Martin Murphey is another long-time man of the West. A Western Music Association Hall of Famer, he has been called the top selling cowboy music singer. On his latest effort, Buckeroo Blue Grass (www.ruralrhythm.com), he gives his catalog a bluegrass makeover (as the title implies). It’s actually not a big stretch but he does it effortlessly. Helping him sow his bluegrass oats here are such top players as Ronnie McCoury, Rhonda Vincent, Sam Bush and Rob Ickes.
Although the disc doesn’t include this biggest hit, 1975’s chart topper “Wildfire,” it does include a fine rendition of “What I Am Doing Hanging Around”, a song you might recognize from the Monkees. Other numbers that stand out are “Carolina In The Pines” and set opener “Lone Cowboy.”
If you put these two discs in a musical duel, I think Murphey would win the showdown. His singing has a warmer, friendlier quality than Tyson’s admittedly restricted vocals. Moreover, the enthusiastic bluegrass picking is quite contagious and his disc offers a nice balance of “up songs and sad songs” (to quote Murphey himself).
Song to seek out: “What Am I Doing Hanging Around” from Michael Martin Murphey.