Nick Cave at the Beacon, June 14, 2017

I didn't know a lot of the songs he sang. A lot of it was new, and there's a lot of old stuff I don't know, too. But even when I didn't know the song, it was intense.

And the ones I did know were some of my favorites. There was "Red Right Hand," of course. Which was incredible. And he shocked the hell out of me by playing "Tupelo," which was the song that really first blew me away. (Although it was watching him sing "The Carny" in "Wings of Desire" that first turned me on to him.) It was so much like the album version -- the driving, insistent bass line, Cave's growling delivery -- but subtly different, and delivered with such thunder.

And then, in the encore -- as he pulled person after person from the audience, creating a writhing, dancing crowd onstage -- Stagger Lee. An old, violent song, and Cave modernizes the brutality, making it so crude and over-the-top, giving it almost Tarantino-like hilarity:

She saw the barkeep/
said, 'O God, he can't be dead!'/
Stag said, "Well, just count the holes/
in the motherfucker's head!

Pat Boone also sings a version of this song. Let THAT sink in.

Of the three go-into-the-bar-and-kill-everybody songs on Murder Ballads, my favorite is probably "O'Malley's Bar" -- but seeing this performed live, with all this infernal energy, makes me revise that opinion. Besides, with the similarity of our names, I've always felt like Stagger Lee was like this badass criminal relative my parents never told me about.

(He's not, of course -- "stagger" was a nickname. The real Stagger Lee was "Stag" Lee Shelton, an African-American pimp who killed Billy Lyons -- another relative's name! -- in St. Louis on Christmas night, 1895. Anyway, that's what Wikipedia tells me. Cave sets his version of the song in 1932.)

And after bringing the crowd into the gutter with Stagger Lee, Cave closed with a beautiful rendition of "Push the Sky Away." I'll leave you with that here.

Wesley Stace, Considered as a Novelist

A couple days ago, I finished Charles Jessold, Considered as a Murderer -- an excellent novel set in England largely in the 1920s, in which on the first page we learn that an up-and-coming composer killed his wife, her lover and himself the night before his opera was set to open -- and then we look back as to why it happened. It's written by Wesley Stace, who is better known as the singer John Wesley Harding, and it's very assured and well-written: We keep returning to certain events with new knowledge, learning more and more of what actually happened. 


It's his third novel, and I'll be seeking out his others. Stace gave a reading at our local bookstore a couple months ago, and he performed the folk song, "Little Musgrave," that's at the heart of the novel (and the opera) -- it was really a magic moment. I found the song later on iTunes, on one of his live albums, and have been listening to it a lot.


Both the song and the novel are worth seeking out. In fact, here's Stace singing "Little Musgrave" on Sound Check.

Rob

Bellydancing Beauty with a Power-driven Saw

So yesterday, as I was finishing up S.M. Stirling's A Meeting in Corvalis, the name "Lady Eleanor" pops into my head. Some people in the Stirling books go by "lord" and "lady", but I don't think any of them are named Eleanor, particularly. But it jogged a memory of this name, and that reminded me of this song, which I'm pretty sure I taped off WXPN when I'd first started listening to it, and the depth and breadth of the music they'd play seemed so much vaster than it does to me today. (Granted, I rarely listen anymore, since I'm about 10 miles out of broadcasting range.)

This might have actually been on the same tape as Tim Hardin's "The Lady Came From Baltimore," also a strange, old-timey folk song, though far less trippy. "Lady Eleanor," on the other hand, recalls Cream's "Tales of Brave Ulysses,"or if Fairport Convention were playing King Crimson songs.

Anyway, here's a recording of the band Lindisfarne's 1972 hit "Lady Eleanor," inspired by the Edgar Allan Poe short story, "The Fall of the House of Usher." Along with, improbably, pictures of butterflies.

Rob
(Well, that just bounced from place to place, didn't it? I ain't joking, woman, I got to ramble.)

Nobody Living Can Ever Stop Me

Pete Seeger, Bruce Springsteen and Tao Rodriguez led a rousing version of Woody Guthrie's "This Land Is Your Land" on Sunday. It has some lyrics you might not have heard before. Truthout (actually Tommy Stevenson of the Tuscaloosa News) has the skinny. (And watch quickly; HBO is pulling clips of the concert from YouTube; Mark Evanier seems to think this one is safe, but why risk it?)



Rob

Jalopy Jam

Friday night, Kathy & I drove into Brooklyn to meet our friend Steph, eat some tapas, and check out the music at a little performance space called Jalopy. The place was great -- they served coffee, beer and wine, and the performance area (the seats on the edges comfy-style, the ones in the center like pews) was one-of-a-kind. The walls were lined with odd, handmade guitars, banjos and fiddles -- made from frying pans, cigar boxes, turtle shells, and a wooden clog. A big head of some decapitated statue peers eerily into the audience.

And the music! We only heard a little bit of the first act (Hillary Hawke and Hot Owl), but I can tell you they play a great version of "The Cuckoo." But soon they were off, and the Kings County Strings took the stage. A Brooklyn bluegrass group, they had a ball with their set, playing with speed, precision and heart -- truly a treat to listen to.

After they wrapped up, they mentioned that they'd be setting up in the audience space with some of the other people in the audience, and would just jam for a while. Turns out the room was full of some amazing pickers. Kathy, Steph and I stuck around to enjoy some more music, spontaneous and warm, before braving the cold. The cluster of musicians were still playing when we left -- playing for their peers, and for the sheer exuberance the music brings.

Rob

Caught the Westbound

Folk troubadour, raconteur and activist Utah Phillips died last week. The Times has an obituary.


Hallelujah, he was a bum... and when he sang, it was easy to remember that we all are: We all need a handout, a leg up, or someone to stand by us sometimes. He was always a good friend to those in need.

Rest in peace, Utah. We'll miss you at Fest.

Rob