Bob Hay & the Jolly Beggars, The Squallz

Melting Point, Friday, August 4

originally published August 16, 2006

It’s always nice to have an excuse to go check out a newish venue, especially one as supposedly snazzy and beautifully sound-equipped as The Melting Point. The recent combination of Bob Hay & the Jolly Beggars and the same folks playing acoustic versions of Squalls songs from back in the day fit the bill.

The Jolly Beggars' two CDs (especially the more recent one, Tam Lin) do a pretty good job of capturing the way the tunes sound live, but they don’t get the whole picture, which contains the sweet interplay among the bandmembers, between-song banter explaining why this or that is dirty, the ham Mr. Hay admits he brings along (to convey different characters, for example) or, quite, the earnestness of the songs. Hay’s voice is always unexpectedly deep at first, which makes his high notes all the more poignant, whether in self-penned ditties or those of Robert Burns.

I don’t know if it’s ironic exactly that the very thing he thinks is indicative of genius - being able to toss something off rather than work at it - is almost countered in his and the band’s live performance, which feels effortful. This is not to say that they’re straining up there, but they’re very purposeful, and at any rate, both nonchalance of the kind he appreciates and this kind of labor end up in the same place, which is the home of joy: experiencing it, wanting to bring it to others, knowing it in the world. Those are some big fancy words, and they might have been strangely undercut by the scent of hamburgers that wafted through the air on and off during the show, but people were hugging and reminiscing. A little dance party even broke out on the side of the room. It felt the way a high school reunion would if you could somehow remove the massive quantities of awkwardness.

Both sets and the milling around in between reminded me how happy I am to live in Athens, where all ages can bond over songs that don’t have an expiration date and are considered without an overkill of seriousness.

Hillary Brown

Hillary Brown

Tom Waits

The Tabernacle, Atlanta, Tuesday, August 1

originally published August 16, 2006

Consider the bad pun potential for the fact that Tom Waits took the stage nearly an hour late in Atlanta. And then nevermind, because hey, Tom Waits! I'd pretty much resigned myself to never seeing him perform because his tours are increasingly infrequent, but Waits kicked off his brief Southern tour in Atlanta, pulling from all points of his career. Apologizing to a frustrated crowd that the delay was due to a long line outside at the will-call booth (no real tickets were mailed in advance, in an effort to combat scalping). "You could meet your wife here. You could meet your ex-wife here," he deadpanned about the long line. "You could meet someone else's wife here." Waits' entire set, in fact, was punctuated by his eccentric jokes and non-sequiturs, although the timing of the punch-line of more than one was mitigated by overwhelming audience cheering at every single pause, not unlike what Jon Stewart's been going through lately on "The Daily Show."

But the music! Waits opened the set - his first in Atlanta since the late '70s - with "Make it Rain" and "Hoist That Rag," the two strongest tracks off last year's fantastic Real Gone. Waits delivered his mix of primal blues dressed completely in black and with a dusty pork pie hat, taking center stage on an elevated platform that amplified the percussive stomps of his boots. His voice was gruffer and more rain-cloudy live than it comes across on record, but he hits the falsetto notes like a man possessed. There's a dirty Cuban guitar solo in the album version of "Hoist That Rag" played by Marc Ribot that's terrific; it tumbles over itself, gaining non-stop momentum. It sounds like how it feels to run down a hill, where your body starts to move faster than your feet can handle. Consummate blues guitarist Duke Robillard handled tour duties, but his skilled yet standard blues solos couldn't stand in for Ribot's impressionistic work.

Newer songs gave way to older, as Waits, bathed in spectacular blues, purples and reds, delved into tracks like the slinky "Shore Leave," the unexpected "November" and the mournful "Blue Valentines," on which he handled electric guitar duties himself. Waits nimbly wove the admonition "Don't lie to me, baby!" into a cover of Howlin' Wolf's song "Who's Been Talkin'." Waits himself was mesmerizing, working his barstool pleas and field-hand spirituals into spectacular performances, physically inhabiting the rhythms of each song.

A bluesy reinterpretation of the spooky "Murder in the Red Barn" was a surprise that segued into the howler "Shake It," closing out the set. Waits returned for two encores - the noisy combo of "Singapore" and "Goin' Out West" and the subtler "Day After Tomorrow" and a medley of "Heartattack & Vine," with Waits on acoustic guitar.

Drawbacks? The Tabernacle's sound could've been better, lacking the low-end oomph that would've turned a really good show into something more primal and great. And as it was the first set of the first tour in years, Waits' backing band - Robillard, son Casey Waits on drums, Larry Taylor on bass and Brent Clausen on keyboards and percussion - felt a little loose. But besides a few cries for more piano-based songs, the crowd was at Waits' mercy. The Athens music scene was in full force. I spotted Don Chambers in the same crowd as members of We Versus the Shark, Hope For Agoldensummer and The Low Lows. Patterson Hood even took a break from his Drive-By Truckers tour to fly in to Atlanta for this show, enthusing that it was, "Great, just excellent! I wouldn't have missed it." I'm glad I didn't.

Chris Hassiotis

Chris Hassiotis

Pete Best Band

Locos Harris St., Sunday, July 30

originally published August 16, 2006

If you had told me that I would meet the original drummer for all-time greatest band the Beatles at the Locos around the corner from my house, I can’t say I would have believed you. On the surface, it seemed like an undignified event for a man who had become indignity, defined. But I had to go. How could I not go?

Randolph Peter Best was a member of the Beatles for exactly two years. On Aug. 16, 1960, Best accompanied a ragtag, drummerless group to Hamburg, Germany to fulfill a grueling residency at the Indra club. On Aug. 16, 1962, with a killer repertoire and a contract with EMI in the making, Beatles manager Brian Epstein was given the job of letting Best know he was out. It was, even in the opinion of staid Beatles’ scholar Mark Lewisohn, “the most underhand, unfortunate and unforgivable chapter in the Beatles’ rise to monumental power.”

Fast forward nearly half a century. Best settled down, raised a family, and lived an ordinary life. Proving the cliché that time heals all wounds, Pete Best has gained an amazing perspective on his strange place in history; likewise, history has become kind to Best. Though he is relegated to playing covers to 200 people in Georgia on a hot summer night instead of regaling Philips Arena like his old mate Paul, he has convinced people that life hasn’t been so bad.

Accompanied by a quintet of mostly middle-aged fellow Scousers in matching black T-shirts, Best launched into a serviceable mix of songs from the late ‘50s and early ‘60s. The Pete Best Band is the kind of band that, sans legendary leader, would be a safe band to hire for a wedding. You could perhaps think of this band as a more competent and listenable version of the “Savage Young Beatles,” circa ’61.

After a couple numbers, the famously reserved Best hopped off the drum set, grabbed a mic, and did his darnedest to banter with an audience that he knew was there only to see him. “We’re gonna take you back, Hamburg, Liverpool, ’60, ’61, ’62,” Best promised, wiping the sweat from his brow. He returned quickly to his kit - the singing would be left to the rest of the band - and shared drumming duties for the next hour with his half-brother Rory.

That the set mostly consisted of American covers from the late ‘50s is understandable, considering that the Pete Best-era Beatles were little more than an enthusiastic cover band. Favorites from the evening included “What’d I Say,” “Some Other Guy,” and, as a tip of the hat to Athens, “Sweet Georgia Brown.” As a Beatles geek, it was interesting to note how seamlessly his band mixed covers and originals that the Beatles played before, during and after Best’s tenure. Did Best ever actually play Paul’s “I Saw Her Standing There” back in the day? Most people dancing along that night might have responded, “Who cares?”

Tom Bavis

Tom Bavis

Ceramic Dvck

The Secret Squirrel, Friday, July 28

originally published August 16, 2006

It was a sticky evening, but despite the humidity, the crowd pressed close to the stage. Bassist Jorge Torres thumped out the low notes. Guitarist Jason Robira pierced the crowd’s eardrums as he attacked the upper register, his back to the audience to prevent feedback. Jason Trahan manned the keys, and drummer Stephen Miller was perfectly in sync as this group, childhood friends from Lafayette, LA, played its final show as Ceramic Dvck.

Occasionally, there would be pauses between drumbeats when all instruments stilled. I could feel my heart catch in the silence. The audience hung on to the band’s every note. This show was less frenetic than the Dvck of the past - the departure of guitarist Bradford Willingham for New York eliminated the possibility of the Dvcks switching instruments, always fun to watch. Bassist Torres liked the change to a four-piece, because one could “hear each of the instruments more clearly,” he said. It was a pronounced change for a band that “originally started out as a noise band, a two-piece [Torres and Miller] that mushroomed into a five-piece. Without the second guitar, we learned to appreciate each other’s parts better, and added more new stuff to our old parts.”

The audience sang along to “My Favorite Dead Body,” shouting "crime! violence!" and enjoyed other faves such as “Shut that Fucking Baby Up!,” “Datura,” “U.F.Odor of Invasion,” a cover of “Kickstart My Heart” by the Crüe and several brand-new songs. Toward the end of the evening, Torres got gloomy at the prospect of the last show, but said he felt positive “leaving something so healthy, that was great while it existed and still has lots of potential.”

Torres is leaving Athens to join Willingham in New York City, where he will pursue his true passion: editing and filming. Currently he's working on editing last year’s Olivia Tremor Control reunion. He recently finished videos for Dark Meat, the Ginger Envelope, the Campbell Sisters and the Dvck.

Robira, Trahan and Miller are still in Ginger Envelope, and Miller also plays in Garbage Island and Venice is Sinking. Don’t discount the possibility of a reunion, though - these Louisiana boys are tight. “They became my family when I moved here from Puerto Rico,” Torres said. “They are my family here in the States.”

Dierdre Sayre

Dierdre Sayre