Almost seven years ago, I took my wife to see Gillian Welch and Dave Rawlings at the Buskirk-Chumley Theatre in Bloomington for her wedding present. It was such a beautiful show. They were two voices made to sing together akin to the way siblings vocalize. Voices so close that you could confuse the lead singer. Gillian, the lanky cowgirl with her sundress and cowboy boots played her Guild acoustic and her claw hammer banjo throughout the show while Dave, the seemingly shy suited guitarist, stuck primarily to his 1935 Epiphone Olympic arch top guitar, a guitar that's become synonymous with Dave much like Lucille is synonymous with BB King. Gillian bobbed up and down and crushed out an invisible cigarette with her black left boot while Dave writhed along with every note and string that he plucked. They made for a precarious pair on stage but their playing and singing was captivating.
Gillian put out four solo albums, which always seemed unfair since Dave co-wrote most of the songs and played guitar on every one. It always seemed like they should be a duo. But Gillian filled the role of lead vocalist and spokesperson for the duo so she earned the title, one might think. Now Dave is up front with his band, Dave Rawlings Machine, which sees Gillian as his rhythm guitarist and features three members of the Old Crow Medicine Show (Morgan Jahnig on bass, Keith Secor on fiddle/harmonica, and Willie Watson on rhythm guitar). The new album, Friend of a Friend, is yet another showcase of beautiful music but with a little more tempo and humor. Dave co-wrote most of the songs with Gillian but also collaborated with Ryan Adams on a track and covers Bright Eyes and Neil Young on one stand-out medley (the rise and fall "Method Acting/Cortez the Killer). It's a masterful album and holds its own amongst the rest of the Welch/Rawlings catalog.
The Machine arrived in Bloomington last night at the legendary Bluebird (so legendary that this was my first visit). If you've never been to the Bluebird there's only one way to describe it: cavernous and tiny. The stage barely seems big enough to hold a four piece band. It's funny to think that Toots and the Maytals, the Wailers and Culture all have played there, big reggae bands with horn sections. I'm not sure how they do it. Anyway, the Machine had the luxury of no drum kit so they could amble about the stage.
They opened with the sing-along track "Monkey and the Engineer" which got the crowd excited right off the bat. Immediately after the song, the tone for the show was set. It became obvious that there was no set list as Dave surprised the band by launching into a song they'd never played live, Bob Dylan's "Dear Landlord". The band scurried together, finding the key and by the end of the first verse they were all together and playing it beautifully. "Landlord" turned into a medley and "Candyman" by the Grateful Dead appeared, exciting the unwashed fans.
That was how the night went. Very brief huddles spawned a song here, a song there. Dave launched into songs, the band followed. It was inspiring and spontaneous. Every song from the new album was played throughout the show. Some turned into medleys, such as the gorgeous "I Hear Them All", evolving into a rousing version of Woody Guthrie's "This Land is Your Land". Aside from the album material, the band played an Old Crow song called "Methamphetamine" and a few Gillian songs ("Red Clay Halo", "Look At Miss Ohio", "No One Knows My Name", "Throw Me a Line") as well "Queen Jane Approximately" by Dylan, the folk standard "Big Rock Candy Mountain", the fire and brimstone gospel hymn "Fields on Fire" (comically sung by Secor in a televangelistic manor) and the crowd pleasing encore closer, The Band's "The Weight". The crowd followed every moment of the show, interacting and cheering on the brilliant solos from each band member.
The band came back for two encores. The second encore, they dropped all instruments and sung the four part harmony on the O Brother, Where Art Thou favorite, "Didn't Leave Nobody But the Baby". The audience went wild, stomping with the rhythm. A raucous cheer arose after the song with the audience begging for more. (At this point it should be noted that back when Dave and Gillian were first getting started, they would travel around college towns doing "songbook shows" where they would take a songbook by their favorite artists, such as Dylan or Neil Young, and randomly play songs from the book to the delight of their captive audiences. They frequented Bloomington doing these shows at the Wild Beet and Second Story.) Dave grabbed the mic and said, "That was officially the end of the show. If you want to take off now you won't hurt my feelings but we used to play a lot in this town and, well, I feel like doing a few Neil Young songs," much to the surprise of the band and to the delight of the rabid fans. Gillian laughed and shook her head as Dave launched into "Mellow My Mind", followed by "Time Fades Away", and finishing off with my favorite Neil song of all time, "Powderfinger". All three songs were impeccable and the best possible finish to an astounding show.
This was primarily a bluegrass/folk show. No drummer, all acoustic instruments, the only mic'd instrument was the fiddle. It was as roots as it gets. But with the musicianship, the spontaneity, the humor (and occasional innuendo), the audience interaction, the delicate and the rowdy moments, and the overall anything goes attitude of the show, not to mention the obvious good time the band was having on stage, how they were in no hurry to leave and wanted to give the audience everything they had, this was the most rock and roll show I've seen in years. I hope it doesn't take Rawlings/Welch another seven years to get back to the state of Indiana. But you can bet your ass I will have a ticket when they do.
Great review, Ryan. I was at one of those "songbook" shows at The Wild Beet. They had a fake band name for those nights, but I can't remember what.
ReplyDeleteI've seen Bob Pollard jump up and almost brain himself on that low ceiling above the Bluebird stage more times than I can count.