Avetts at the Bowl

Just as I discovered Dawes, hearing “Time Spent in Los Angeles” on The Current, I became aware of the Avett Brothers when that station played “I And Love And You.” Other songs followed; I came to recognize the sound and the distinct lyrics. Both bands seemed worthy followers of Wilco in that particular genre of my music appreciation. For confirmation I went to see Dawes perform at First Avenue this summer and listened to their latest album, Stories Don’t End. There was nothing on the record that jumped out – indeed, The Current’s efforts at pushing “Most People” struck me as the wishful thinking that produced airplay for Semisonic after “Closing Time.” Sadly, the live show only confirmed my fear that Dawes had peaked and perhaps exhausted their creativity. Still, if “A Little Bit of Everything” remains their peak, it’s a pretty good one, and when that closed the show I was close to tears.

I hadn’t mined the Avett Brothers as thoroughly when I went to hear them at the Santa Barbara Bowl last week (10/10/13), although I had been very impressed with their latest album, The Carpenter. My only reservation was that their singing seemed a little bloodless. Boy, did their show dispel that concern! Scott and Seth Avett commanded the big stage in their skinny-jeaned black outfits, with Seth’s scissor-kicking left leg and Jesus hair bounding up and down nonstop. They traded lead vocals seamlessly, their voices eerily similar and harmonizing wonderfully (think Everly Brothers). But best of all was their music: unlike the slightly monotonous sound of Dawes, the Avetts mixed soulful ballads with hoe-down fiddle, call-and-response, Latin (not so good) and heavy metal. Energy was high throughout and the four supporting cast members blended in gracefully (I especially enjoyed Yo-Yo Ma rocking around, cello on shoulder). By the time “I And Love And You” closed the show, it was a high point and a relief, a well deserved hit, but not all the Avett Brothers could do.

The Concert for 12.12.12

The “greatest rock lineup ever assembled” was, above all, a study in rock star aging. It also made you realize, if you ever forgot, what a great decade for rock the ‘70s were. Forty years later, when important people wanted to raise millions and millions of dollars for storm relief, where did they go but to stars of the ‘70s who sang songs from the ‘70s. They also sang some later songs, and there were some later acts, but none, with one exception, packed the same punch.

The biggest disappointment, if only because so much has been made of their current tour, was the Rolling Stones. Keith Richard seemed to exist in a haze, and Mick Jagger, who is almost a parody of himself, was wizened. It is amazing that he can move as well as he does, but Jumpin’ Jack Flash had no bite and overstayed its welcome. Their two-song set was the shortest of the night, and I wasn’t sorry to see them leave. Steve Buscemi’s following riff with the “Graybeards” – retired first responders from Long Island – was more enjoyable.

The Who, arguably as great as the Stones if not as long-lived, were represented by Pete Townshend, a true rock god, and Roger Daltry, who embarrassed by acting like he was 25. Their song selections, Pinball Wizard and Baba O’Riley, could not be faulted. Nor could Roger Waters’, presenting The Wall and Dark Side of the Moon in short form. Having Eddie Vedder alongside for Comfortably Numb was delightful. Waters himself has aged appropriately, unlike Daltry.

Eric Clapton, by contrast, appeared ageless, with glasses and preppie good looks. His songs were forgettable – at least, a day later I have forgotten them. Paul McCartney, on the other hand, was memorable specifically for singing such forgettable songs – Helter, Skelter, Live and Let Die, My Valentine and something from Wings. If ever I needed evidence that the Beatles were overrated, I could point to Sir Paul’s set.

American rockers may have been outnumbered, but they were clearly not outclassed. (In this comparison I am scoring a draw for the duet of Chris Martin and Michael Stipe. Both did what they do perfectly.) I am tempted to say Bruce Springsteen is in a class by himself, except he was given a run for his money by Billy Joel, who played the most numbers and is as identified with Long Island as Bruce is with New Jersey. Only the Good Die Young got us dancing, but Born to Run (with Jon Bon Jovi) made me cry. As much as the critics continue to admire the Boss’s new releases, nothing in the last 20 years has emotionally attached itself to me, including Wrecking Ball, a prominent part of his performance. Billy Joel didn’t dilute his tribute with “new” material; he stuck with the oldies we love.

For the sake of completeness, I should say that I skipped Alicia Keyes and Kanye West, both for lack of familiarity and lack of interest in their styles.  I think that only leaves Jon Bon Jovi. I find his stage presence a little grating, but his TK was the one exceptional post-‘70s song, a rousing anthem that was well worth Bruce’s reappearance on stage.