Sean Nicolas Savage (Wax Mannequin / Hut / Ah La Lettre)
Korova Milkbar. Wednesday, November 24, 2010.
Looking to fill up the now-defunct Korova Milkbar midweek, this was the second week with a rotating crew of guests for Hut's month-long Wednesday residency. As I arrived, it felt a lot like a casual evening in someone's living-room, with audience members sitting sprawled out along the walls. There was now a "do not lean on the railing" sign attached to the frighteningly wobbly railing overlooking the stairs up from the street, and a "close door quietly" sign on the door. Every time an inattentive newly-arriving patron would let it slam behind them as they came up, a woman sitting by the railing would look menacingly down the stairwell.
This was a good environment for Ah La Lettre, a folk sideline of Gabi Charron-Merritt, also of Teen Tits Wild Wives. The music came with a bit of a performance art angle, in the form of the "newborn baby" held by a friend named Clarissa that would occasionally break out into squalling cries, all of which was incorporated into the banter between songs. Clarissa also some offered fine harmony vox on a version of "Silver Dagger" that added some bluesy swagger to the Joan Baez arrangement.
There was a sidestep into Tin Pan Alley-ish territory with a medley of "Jeepers Creepers" and "My Funny Valentine", the latter in a effectively unsettling minor key. Charron-Merritt gave a pleasingly casual performance, taking advantage of the open area down the middle of the narrow room to wander out into the crowd while playing. It was a small enough space that she could keep going without amplification, and she ended her set right in the centre of the room, settling down into a cross-legged sitting position as the notes from her guitar faded.
Listen to a song from this set here.
I thought that would set the tone for the night, but it was, in fact, the odd set out as the quiet, sit-and-stretch-out coffeehouse vibe was overtaken by a sweaty livingroom party. The room suddenly filled with a young crowd as Hut finished setting up. This band's name is totally representative of their sound — if you think of it as the guttural cry at the start of a football play, and not like a forlorn shack in some quiet landscape. The band brings punky raggedness and a poppy sensibility, though those don't add up to pop-punk. It's more like a deliberately under-rehearsed rock'n'roll outburst — call an audible, snap the ball and let the controlled chaos ensue.
The immediate visual draw is the two Daniels up front — Daniel Lee (of Hooded Fang) on super echo-y vox and Daniel Woodhead (ex-Spiral Beach) playing a minimalist stand-up drumkit with frenetic abandon. The bass/guit/keyb were in a line behind them, though the band isn't listing any names at the moment.
You can change the context for Lee's songs but as anyone familiar with Hooded Fang might guess, there's a fair amount of singalongability behind the increased disorder here, what will all the bop-bop-bop/bop-a-bop-bop action. Plus, the keyboards added a sort of frantic new-wave vibe holding things together. With an eager crowd packed up front dancing along, this had just the right ragged edge to it.
"This one I don't really know the words to," Lee commented at one point, picking up his notebook for reference. He kept it handy for a cover of The Clean's "Thumbs Off", which gives another hint of where the band's coming from. There was only one song that slowed down from the breakneck pace in a brisk nine-song set — all of it nicely situated on the boundary of taking it seriously and keeping it loose.
Listen to a song from this set here.
That crowd that was both stand-around chatty and into-it-dancey filled the room up for Sean Nicolas Savage, who was received with rock-star adoration. And what I thought would be a cardigan-worthy folk ramble was instead a disco dancing party.
This turned out to be not at all what I had expected. Apparently, I had last caught Savage at the end of a now-passed phase, and this show was utterly different than what I'd seen before. This earns him top marks in terms of artistic growth and musical curiosity, though the execution of this show hadn't quite caught up to his developing musical ambition. So, gone was the lone balladeer with his acoustic guitar, replaced by the smooth entertainer with all music coming from his ipod. This gave the set a definite karaoke vibe, something that I admit I have a problem getting used to — far more than getting too uptight about a stylistic change.1
A prolific artist, Savage was selling copies of his just-released Mutual Feelings of Respect and Admiration album, and doing songs from that, plus some older stuff, including "Gemini Heart" and "Crazy People" from the highly-likeable Movin Up In Society2, and "Heart Wish" from the older Spread Free Like A Butterfly. Freed of an instrument, Savage was working his moves — dancing, posing with his microphone, moving his arms just so. The crowd up front ate this up, so the fact that it struck me the wrong way isn't entirely representative. Given the speed with with he's developing his talents, I wouldn't take this as the last word3 — plus Savage is a pretty good songwriter, so he's worth keeping an eye on.
One testament to Savage's draw was how much the place cleared out after his set. It meant, however, that there was more elbow room for the smaller cadre of dedicated Wax Mannequin enthusiasts. Though he was unfamiliar to me, Chris Adeney has been playing music under the WM banner for nearly a decade now, but unfortunately, on this night, whatever savvy he's gathered in that stretch wasn't fully on display.
Sporting an old hat, suspenders and a ruffled bloodstained shirt, Adeney looked to be inhabiting the role of a depression-era musical journeyman, though on this road swing he'd traded in his backing band for a more new-fangled approach. The laptop nestled away in a beat-up old suitcase was an apt symbol for the old/new mix that Adeney was working, playing old-fashioned rootsy songs augmented with backing tracks. With a catalogue four albums deep, he was playing mostly from Saxon, his latest effort.
There were some signs of showmanship at the start of the set — a rambling monologue about the power of crystals, say, or the way that Adeney tore off the fake roses pinned to his shirt and tossed them into the crowd between songs. But soon, gear failure became his focus of attention. While vigourously stomping along to a song, something got loosened enough that there was a static-y crunch under the music. And then, showing the frailty of a computer-enhanced setup, he began having a series of technical problems, ultimately leading him to abandon the laptop while becoming increasing distracted from his task at hand.
When he gave up on the backing tracks and just played, the set was at its most interesting. When, after a couple songs on his own, he tried to get it going again, it just led to further frustration. After having to re-start and then abandon a couple songs, Adeney was agitated enough to cut his set short, declaring, "I'm absolutely done... enough of this shit. You're all very good people, but fuck this. Have a nice night."
Perhaps realizing that sounded a bit ungracious to the remaining members of the crowd (several of whom gave the impression of being big fans), Adeney caught himself and did one last one, the entirely aptly-titled "Fuck Up The Night" a quiet number just on guitar that was more heartfelt and direct than anything he had tried before.
So, not a great context to judge his music by, but I must admit that the songs didn't do much for me. The canned elements didn't help, but even otherwise I found it fitfully engaging. I could sort of infer that Adeney is probably a skillful entertainer when he was on his game, but I wouldn't be in a rush back to confirm that.
1 Although not everyone was impressed with Savage's current musical direction. "I think this is the closest I'll ever come to seeing the Bee Gees," sniffed one unimpressed hipster beside me.
2 This one is still available as a free download from his label.
3 Indeed, having seen him again since this night, I'd note that Savage has thought through the live presentation of his disco-fied material a bit more.
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