Last of the Blacksmiths + Our Lady of the Highway

Review by Shannon Coulter

Even audience members unfamiliar with The Band’s 1971 song the Last of the Blacksmiths could have guessed from all the chairs and stools on stage that this group wasn’t probably wasn’t named after their affinity for metal. On the contrary, this was some rather hushed, contemplative album-rock from the get-go, and it made me think of Sunday afternoons spent sprawled in front of the stereo with the headphones on, listening to my dad’s record collection…stuff like The Eagles’ Desperado and Jackson Browne’s Late for the Sky. Nathan Wanta was on the Fender Rhodes and some lead vocals, with and a delicately earnest tenor that occasionally held onto the lyrics too long, while Nigel Pavao stuck mostly to guitar and deftly handled the other vocal responsibilities. Then there were Jake Bunch, bassist, and Bert Garibay on sticks as the only unbearded smith—with his 18” bass drum and an authentic, worldly presence. With all of them sitting down and concentrating so intently on making music, it felt a bit like being in a recording studio with them, which was neat. Together, they made a profoundly reflective, dynamic sound to which we were asked to bring the character and patience of serious listeners. Not the stuff of shuffle play, folks.

There's something brave and heroic in Our Lady of the Highway’s music. Songs like These Roads and Elegant show off a hard won wisdom that is nevertheless delivered in a bright, buoyant style. As a performer and frontman, Dominic East is a pleasure to watch—beaming quirkily with an infectious joy that provides a bit of welcome contrast to continued post-Nirvana posturing, and he easily proves that you can say something serious and affecting without having to brood too conspicuously. Some sing-along sentimentality is balanced with lyrics about the painful, untidy realities of relationships, and there’s a lilting, gently rolling quality to many of the tunes.

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