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Hotel Utah Saloon November 13, 2003 Review by Shannon Coulter My mom was in town last week and came with me to see Jeffrey Luck Lucas at the Hotel Utah. Though I knew the music would be some rather sedate alt-country, I was still just a little nervous to take a parent with me to a live show in San Francisco. I tend to associate my mom with the staid Pennsylvania suburb where she and my dad live--forgetting that she came of age in the 60's, taught high school in inner-city Detroit during the race riots and, most importantly, that she loves live music. Besides, I shouldn't have worried, because when I say that the lineup for the evening was very "adult," I mean it not in the illicit sense, but in the grown-up one--a characterization I can make less often than I'd like. Living in such a gingery, progressive place means that a lot of its art is meant to explore and push social boundaries-which is fine, but it’s a motive that can easily fall victim to self-indulgence and the occasional tendency on the part of San Franciscans to overact in their role as cultural liberators. It’s a different story with Jeffrey Luck Lucas. In fact, his artistic restraint made for a sweet and unexpected sort of tension of its own. I found myself wondering if he and the musicians who accompanied him could manage to remain so gentle--so deliberate and reverent for the duration of the set. Halfway through, my mom leaned over to whisper a one word review in my ear: "sexy," and I saw what she meant. Before they reached us, it was clear that Lucas' thoughts had to pass through a filter of masculine restraint of an increasingly rare type. The understated result was as well crafted as his palomino boots and burnished by a dignified weariness, as if he'd come to the stage straight from some long, backroad sojourn. The music itself was a seamless, elegant nearly abstract wash of countrified loveliness, and though his imagery speaks in a darkly romantic southwestern vocabulary of parched landscapes, rusty tin wall crosses and abandoned haciendas, I sometimes also found myself thinking of one of those rural towns of the American south with dirt roads and sugar white hilltop chapels--so peaceful as to be surreal. All this is to say that Lucas’ songs were graceful, studied and seriously pretty. "Lover, look at me with my spangled mind. I don't mind breaking, just make it quick this time." They made me want to slow dance with my boyfriend in some shadowy corner of the Utah. Jeffrey Luck Lucas was accompanied by Chewy Marzolo (Hammers of Misfortune) on drums, Christopher Mulhauser (Aphrodesia) on thoughtful, honeyed electric guitar, Dan Cantrell on saw and accordion and Jolie Holland on violin. There was also an elusive upright bassist, first name "Spencer," whose full details I failed to get. The band’s manager mentioned that this was the first time that all but one of the musicians had performed live with Lucas-a fact that underscored their obvious professionalism. Opening for Lucas were the earnest members of Madera Road (Liana Allday, Marc Dantona and Jason Kocol), followed by the talented accordionist Dan Cantrell mixing some of his original material with some Albanian and Northern Greek folk songs. In addition to a clarinetist, Cantrell was accompanied by the timeless looking Cynthia Tawasha on Arabic tabla (or "darbuka"). Jolie Holland ended the night, giving us a set of her gorgeous "new time old time,” with phrasing as faceted as a dragonfly's eye. ©2003 playinginfog.com |