October 19, 2003

She took a lot of pills and died

Filed under: Imported

Robbie Fulks, Martin Devaney, and Graham Lindsey at the 400 Bar, October 18th, 2003

Being a season ticket holder, I stuck around for the kiss-your-sister ending to the regular season return of Bertuzzi, the half-man, half-ape winger for the Vancouver Canucks, to the Xcel Energy Center. As a result, I only got to hear one song by Graham Lindsey, a dark spot on my evening, as I was really anxious to see him live, after spending many fine hours with his latest disk, "Famous Anonymous Widlerness" on Catamount Records. Luckily, I spied Perfesser Al, a Minnesota/Houston Americana writing icon in the audience, and he files his report on Graham Lindsey below.

I made a promise to myself earlier in the year to start catching Martin Devaney more when he plays live around town, which, at times can seem like 2 or 3 times a week. I've had the good fortune to talk to him a bit, too, and as I told him last night, he's very 1988 to me. Back when I hit college, the peppy, staccato, angry, and poppy word play of Elvis Costello came blaring out of 3 of 5 dorm rooms every weekend evening between the hours of 11pm and 4am. But, there was more to Costello's image than that. He seemed all-encompassing and orchestral; that is to say, he always struck me as a man who wanted to be all music to all people...he needed to make sound and help others to make sound. Like Costello, Devaney has a gift for word play and monster enthusiasm. His songs hop in and out of styles, and simply explode out of him. I can't overstate enough how much enthusiasm has been coloring my opinion of live performances recently.

Which brings me to Fulks. The last time I saw him, he was skulking through the middle of a bit of touring supporting "Couples in Trouble," an album I didn't really like, and didn't really understand. Performers mature into all kinds of different roads for their voices and talents, but "Couples" just seemed like a 180 degree turn for Fulks, and that live show was so dark and confusing, I just couldn't get where he was trying to take me. Luckily, the gangly, walleyed hillbilly from North Carolina showed up at the 400 Bar last night. This was old Fulks in a new package, and it felt fresh and comfortable at the same time. He served up heaping spoonfuls of a more low key version of his typically manic, goober, between-song banter. Back in the day, Fulks shows were a double treat, because about the only thing better than his whole schtick, was his guitar playing; he can let loose on any kind of guitar at any moment and make all the amateur Roy Clarks and Chet Atkins' in the room feel pretty small. He turned a lot of that work over to his guitarist though, reserving just enough on a few songs to remind everyone to go home and keep practicing. Without playing amateur shrink too much, if I had to guess, I would say that the "Couples" period was some kind of depressive crash for an all world manic performer, who has come out on the other side a little stronger and surer of who he is up on stage. It was good to have him back in town.

Graham Lindsey, by guest blogger, Perfesser Al Kunz of Rockzillaword

It was the toughest decision of this music-filled week. One possibility was the Bottle Rockets and Lucinda at First Ave then a race across town to catch Robbie Fulks at the 400 Bar. If my old bones were up to it and if I'd liked them Saturday, then a reprise of the BRox and Lucinda on Sunday would be great. But the mixed reviews I'd been hearing about Lucinda's current tour (with the Jayhawks opening most) gave me pause. And Jack Sparks has been raving about this Graham Lindsey guy that was opening at the 400. Maybe Lucinda could wait until Sunday.

While Jack Sparks was at the Excel Center satisfying his desire to watch wild men who say a-boot play to a tie I was settled on my favorite barstool listening to Graham Lindsey. I got the better part of the deal. The Dylan comparisons are almost too easy. Tall, skinny, plaid shirt, guitar and harmonica, soft spoken, not really much of a talker anyway --- Lindsey looks the part. With the exception of his vocals (which you can actually understand) it would be easy imagining you were across the river in Dinkytown forty-some-odd years earlier as that Zimmerman kid from up north unveiled a few new songs.

Lindsey's lyrics, like Dylan's, are complex. Unlike Dylan, Lindsey's songs lean toward the dark. Imagine Chris Knight's stories written in Dylan's style or a song title of "Dead Man's Waltz." Consider lyrics like "On the porch step in the moonlight she looks out and through the cold / If I kiss you I must kill you / You told me in gentle tones." Even better catch him next time he plays in the Cities. It's a lot better than watching a game where, in the end, nobody even won.

Posted by Jack Sparks at October 19, 2003 4:36 PM

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