Listening to St. Vincent perform Tuesday night in Iowa City, I couldn't help but think of Taylor Swift. Both are young women in the music business, but the comparison stops there. Annie Clark, who performs as St. Vincent, is wildly talented, with an angelic voice, serious guitar chops and considerable songwriting skills. In contrast, Swift, if reports are to be believed, can't carry a tune, but has handlers who are able to cloak those deficiencies in pleasing arrangements of powerful pop songs (I haven't knowingly heard a note of her music, so I'll take the critics' word on that one).

So, why did I think of one while watching the other? It's that tired music critic trope: "In a perfect world, artist X would be a star," the laziest of reviews always begin. I don't know that the world will need to be perfect for Clark to be a star; she seems on the cusp already, and has arrived there seemingly without compromise. Yes, her songs have just enough edge to keep the indie kids in perpetual swoon, and just enough polish and soft edges to keep the attention of the more adventurous soccer moms when they come on NPR in the minivan, but it never feels calculated.

When standing at Tuesday's show, I thought the same thing of Clark that I've long thought about Neko Case: I wonder what would happen if she completely sold out for one album, went to Nashville (or in the case of Clark, Hollywood) and turned herself over to the hitmaking machine. Both are too talented, ambitious and feisty (no pun intended there, though that's another, less likely example, one supposes) to ever do so, but the prospect is intriguing nonetheless.

Case has proven that following her own path is working, and Clark seems to be taking a similar, parallel journey. The show was good, at times great, as she injected a bit of drama into already solid songs from her latest album, Actor. The set-up made it clear that this would not be a typical indie rock show. While she held down the front of the stage on vocals and guitar, the musicians surrounding her played flute, saxophone, violin, cheesy 80s keyboards and electronic drums. The whole works on album, and did so here (despite my feeling at times like the manufactured nature of the music could stand an organic kick in the pants from more traditional instruments).

It's probably demeaning to suggest that Clark's appeal stems in part from the fact that she's quite comely and, as evidenced by her stage banter, enchantingly charming. That seems to have gotten Swift's shaky pipes to the top of the charts, but for Clark, it's the bow on top of an already incredibly appealing package. Her songs, guitar playing and singing are what hook you, and while you might not mind gazing at her doe-eyed visage while spinning the disc, it won't be the reason you picked it up in the first place.

The show proved that her albums are no fluke, which only made me pine more for what comes next. Actor and its predecessor, Marry Me, are awfully good. All evidence suggests the next one could be tremendous.

To see what the fuss is about, watch her appearance last week on KCRW's "Morning Becomes Eclectic:"

Labels: concert, music, review

A member of the Iowa legislature has proposed a bill that would make it unlawful to advertise or produce a concert by an act claiming to be a classic group if it didn't have at least one original member.

Bob Dvorsky said he introduced the legislation after talking about the idea with Jon "Bowzer" Bauman, a former member of Sha Na Na, during a recent tour stop.

Similar bills have passed in 33 other states. The bills differentiate between "performing groups" and "recording groups," with the latter being seen as legitimate because at least one member appeared on a recording under the group's name. All bets are off if the performing group has a right to the name through trademark.

The Iowa bill would block performances that don't meet the standard and administer a civil penalty of up to $40,000 per incident.

That's all well and good, and from a legal standpoint it makes sense. But it in no way ensures a level of quality even in groups that pass that test. There are many bands on the road with just one original member, or even less in the case of some, where a latter day drummer or bassist carries on under the name. Having covered my share of fairs, holiday celebrations and such as a newspaper critic, I can assure you that plenty of acts would be deemed legal but yet be criminal in the court of taste.

One of the worst offenders I have witnessed is Creedence Clearwater Revisited (pictured above). Yes, they altered the name to indicate their "tribute"status, but original CCR drummer and bassist Doug Clifford and Stu Cook give the group a cachet that leads listeners to expect something special. It's not just that the group's singer does a sorry impersonation of John Fogerty, but that the band doesn't understand its own music. Introducing Fogerty's poignant anti-war song, "Who'll Stop the Rain," Clifford said, "This is one that goes down smooth, like a good brewski." Such cluelessness ought to be against the law, but sadly, it's not.

Then again, if these acts were forced off the road, every county fair in the country would be left with little more than karaoke as an entertainment option (unless, of course they ponied up for the real thing... highly unlikely). So, we're destined for festivals with marquee acts anchored by the third drummer or second bassist of an act we once knew and loved, pale imitations of the real thing.

Still this bill and those like it already on the books are a start.

Labels: concert, legal, music

I caught a fantastic show last night in Iowa City, finally getting the chance to see the Brad Mehldau Trio in person. I've been a fan for years, and so it was nice to experience them live.

This was a make-up gig from 2005 when Mehldau was snowed in and couldn't reach Iowa City for a show. This time, he almost was forced to postpone again, but the problem was on our end: the University of Iowa's Hancher Auditorium was severely damaged during massive flooding we experienced here in June. The facility won't open until 2010, but in the meantime many of this season's shows were rescheduled for area venues (new season tagline: "Can't Contain Us.") This show was at the City High School auditorium, and it's a safe guess that no matter how talented the school's many alums may have been, this was the best thing to ever grace that stage.

I wrote a review for CorridorBuzz.com where those interested can find out all of the details. Suffice to say it was the best jazz I've seen this year, and that's saying something given the caliber of talent at this year's Iowa City Jazz Festival.

Labels: concert, jazz, music

I saw three bands last night whose appeal ran counter to their spot on the bill. The night opened (for me, anyway), with the Broken West, a California band whose sophomore disc, Now or Heaven, is an outstanding creative leap. While I do miss some of the raucous power pop of the band's debut, I Can't Go On, I'll Go On, that's more than made up for by the sophistication on display on the new one.

Live, the band found a more fitting middle ground, adding a bit of rock muscle to the newer, more atmospheric tunes, offering listeners a bridge between old and new. The set was an even split between the two albums, with the new material easily holding its own against the older, more familiar material. "House of Lies" was the standout among the new tracks, taking on a swagger not present on the more mannered studio version. Meanwhile, older favorites like "On the Bubble," "So it Goes" and "Down in the Valley" were welcome additions, the last of those providing a manic penultimate tune for the set, followed by a very effective "Brass Ring," also from the debut, that was only slightly less energetic than its precursor.

If you have the chance to see this band in a club now, take advantage. I predict bigger stages for these guys in the near future.

Following the Broken West was Centro-Matic, a band that seemed to take a while to get into its set, but which delivered a nice, consistent set once it did. The charisma factor dropped considerably between the two bands, as C-M leader Will Johnson stood at the side of the stage and didn't seem to engage the crowd much. Musically, however, the band was solid. I've always admired the band (and alter-ego South San Gabriel), but find their output daunting and haven't done more than dabble (I can only follow a handful of uber-prolific artists, and those slots are taken by Robert Pollard and Will Oldham at the moment).

Headliner Langhorne Slim was a disappointment. After two hours of superior songcraft, his wordy, rockabilly schtick was tiresome. He was full of energy, but so many have done this so much better that I can only chalk up his accolades to long-term memory loss among listeners and/or the constantly renewing crop of fans who ensure that the fact that there is nothing new under the sun isn't really an impediment. Granted, I took in only two songs before heading home for bed, but it just wasn't doing it for me. I'd vote to give that extra stage time to the Broken West every time.

Labels: concert, music

For all of the discussion about the way Bob Dylan reinvents his songs in live performance, I must say that last night's show in Iowa City was a near carbon copy of the one I took in seven years ago in Cedar Rapids. Yes, the 2000 show featured Dylan performing the first part of the set acoustic with minimal accompaniment and the song choices didn't overlap much, but for the portion of the set where his band joined him, the sound served as a template for what I saw last night. Not that I'm complaining, for boilerplate Dylan is still better than most of what's out there.

But it was a slight letdown after seeing Elvis Costello enthrall the audience with an over-amplified acoustic guitar and his voice. It's an easy gig for Costello: Come out, sing a dozen songs and then make way for the real show. But he made the most of it, coming out to grab the crowd by the lapels with a fiery run through "(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes," then alternating his set between newer songs and classics. While there was a lack of dynamics -- he sang full-throated throughout and his guitar was always heavily strummed and slightly fuzzed-out with distortion -- the familiar songs took on new life and the new ones sounded better than you'd have a right to expect given his spotty recent recorded output. "Alison" captivated, "(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding)" was a slow-burning call to arms and "Man Out of Time" became the lament that the recorded version's full-band workout never quite allows.

He was at his best at the set's least-predictable moments. He introduced one song as a 1927 campaign song on Vocalion Records that he had updated, but the song, "From Sulfur to Sugar Cane," is actually a recent composition credited to Costello and T-Bone Burnett. Whatever its provenance, it was Costello's most spirited performance, the lyrics refitted with a wink to give a nod to local ladies. He closed with "The Scarlet Tide," another Burnett co-composition, this time written for Alison Krauss to sing for the film "Cold Mountain." He obviously reworked the lyrics to fit the current war rather than the Civil War, with lines about admitting lies and bringing the boys home.

All of that said, Dylan didn't disappoint. His band is so tight by now that everything feels the way you expect it to, though the tempos and syncopation are different from those on the recorded versions. He opened with fairly straightforward, easily followed versions of "Rainy Day Women #12 & 35" and "Don't Think Twice, It's Alright," loss leaders of sorts that hooked the crowd and enabled him to dive into several new, less-familiar songs in the middle of the set. Dylan never seems to be touring behind a record, often ignoring material from his latest release when performing, but last night's show felt like a bonafied show in support of Modern Times, with a surprising five songs drawn from that disc. The best was "Workingman's Blues II," which found Dylan inhabiting the words more fully here than anywhere else as he sang

Meet me at the bottom, don't lag behind
Bring me my boots and shoes
You can hang back or fight your best on the front line
Sing a little bit of these workingman's blues.

His previous disc, "Love and Theft," also yielded three songs in the 16 song show. The rest was a hit-or-miss mix of his best songs. "Desolation Row" stretching out even longer than on record (though the pace was quicker here), still managed to appeal, while "Masters of War" was a mealy-mouthed disappointment. There's no better time to hear lines like

You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher.

Instead the song was one of the few times where his compromised croak undercut the power of his words.

Still, it was a good show that proved these two veterans still have plenty to say and have compelling ways to do so. In an odd bit of synchronicity, Dylan pulled out Buddy Holly's "Not Fade Away" during that last show I saw seven years ago, while Costello dusted it off with a vengeance last night. While watching last night's show, I noted that both artists were able to find life in songs that were 30, and in the case of Dylan, more than 40 years old, With Holly's classic, they did so with one that is 50 years old this year, it's title three little words that, in the hands of Costello last night, were a battle cry as much as a blast of self-affirmation.

Labels: concert, music

It runs counter to everything else I heard at Wilco's show in Iowa City on Sunday night, but the reason I didn't recognize "Too Far Apart" from the band's debut disc, A.M., was not because it had been radically transformed at the hands of a near-completely remade band, but because it's the last track on a 13-song album, and I simple never got far enough through the disc on numerous listens over the past 13 (!) years to become familiar with it.

Of course, it's a testament to Wilco's talents that it can take a fairly pedestrian soulful number from that first disc and put enough firepower behind it that I assume it was some unearthed soul chestnut given new life. While the song was the same but simply better, the reason for the improvement is due to the fact that Jeff Tweedy and his current bandmates are considerably more polished and adventurous than those surrounding him on that first album. With all due respect to those who came before, this is the best version of Wilco yet. I stood in the crowd musing about the fact that Wilco may well be the best live band on the planet. It probably shares that title with a couple dozen other groups, depending on the night, but it's certainly up there, because this group seems capable of anything. It ably tackled "Too Far Apart" and backed bassist John Stirrat on his "It's Just That Simple," also from A.M., with genuine twang, then turned on a dime to recreate the claustrophobic clanging-steel folk of "I'm the Man Who Loves You" and "Poor Places" from Yankee Hotel Foxtrot before ending with an impressive blast of sludgy stoner jam rock on "Spiders (Kidsmoke)."

It's cliche by now, but it would have been impossible to predict this from Tweedy the first time I saw him front Wilco, playing to a crowd of less than 50 at a local rock club before A.M. had been released. He and fellow Uncle Tupelo exile Jay Farrar each embraced their strengths on their first post-UT releases, but Tweedy quickly began pushing up against his limitations instead, transforming himself into an inspired lyricist, an engaging frontman and an unorthodox but thoroughly exhilarating guitarist. Farrar tried to do this later, but his attempts were clunky and forced. He surrounded himself with support; Tweedy surrounded himself with betters. The results speak for themselves.

That's not to say I'm entirely happy with Wilco's new direction. There were times last night I felt like I was hearing some relic of the 70s jamming away on songs that followed the same template: quiet intro, tooth-rattling sonic shift, long interlude of combative solos and closing resolution. Still, I respect Tweedy for letting the muse grab him by the nose and pull him along, and as long as the results are as listenable as they have been to date, I'm willing to follow.

Set list:

Shake It Off
Shot in Arm
Side with Seeds
You Are My Face
I Am Trying to Break Your Heart
War on War
Company in My Back
Handshake Drugs
Impossible Germany
It's Just That Simple
Jesus, etc.
Too Far Apart
Walken
I'm the Man Who Loves You
Poor Places
Spiders
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What Light
Hate It Here
Hummingbird
Heavy Metal Drummer
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Late Greats
I'm a Wheel
Outtasite

Labels: concert, music