Concert Review
The Winterpills, The Primate Fiasco, Martin Sexton,
Arlo Gurthrie
Northampton Academy of Music, January 23, 2010
One of the great contradictions of the human race is that it often takes a great tragedy to inspire its finest acts of humanity. In December, a series of arsons swept across Northampton, Massachusetts, including one that killed a father and his disabled son. These horrible incidents brought Northampton residents together in ways unseen since 9/11. Fundraising for the victims has been so robust that the target will soon be reached and excess monies will be donated to the Red Cross.
A January 23, 2010 concert certainly did more than its part to fill the coffers. Northampton’s Academy of Music was completely sold out for an evening of music headlined by Arlo Guthrie. It may seem fatuous to comment on the nature of the music for such a cause, but what more can one say to Northampton residents other than “Well done” and “Keep up the community spirit?” So on with the music….
The evening opened with The Winterpills, an eclectic group whose music lives somewhere in the seams where folk, electronica, and art rock dwell. The Academy of Music is one the nation’s oldest opera houses, a two-tiered grand dame that seats over 800. It’s not the most-forgiving venue and The Winterpills struggled through a set that was overly long and whose sound was muddy. Their music is often quite introspective and geared towards more intimate settings. There were moments to savor, especially the vocals of Flora Reed, but overall the performance was more heartfelt than affecting.
The audience came alive when The Primate Fiasco took the stage. Eclectic doesn’t even begin to describe their blend of Dixieland, Tin Pan Alley, folk, jazz, funk, and whatever else inspires them. Lead singer Dave DellaRusso has used the term “psychedelic Dixieland” to describe their sound and it’s as good as any. By whatever label you apply, Primate Fiasco is so much fun I’m surprised they’ve not been declared illegal. Know any other bands that mix a full drum kit, clarinet, trumpet, tuba, and banjo? The quintet had the old barn hopping and they went out in style—Chris Trevethan unhooked a snare, J. Witbeck hoisted his tuba, and the group marched away from its mics, stood in front of the orchestra pit, and led the house in singing a medley of “When the Saints Go Marching In” and “Mama Don’t Allow.” They were hot and they correctly gauged the mood of a crowd that needed to party rather than ponder.
Martin Sexton then popped onto stage for just a few numbers. He was a late addition to the bill and brought his incredible guitar work and his ethereal and idiosyncratic vocals with him. His finale was a cover of the Joe Cocker version of “A Little Help From My Friends,” complete with the falsetto backup vocals, the spazzy mannerisms, and the overall surrealism of Cocker. It too was great fun.
Then came the man everyone was waiting for: Arlo Guthrie. I hadn’t seen Guthrie in over a decade and was floored by how good he still sounds. Although he joked that he was "only what's left of what I used to be," at age 63 his voice remains strong and his guitar playing is miles beyond what it was when he ruled the pop charts. As befits a benefit (can I say that?) he did a short set, but it was a magnificent one. As always, he told delightfully loopy stories, including some great shtick about what he doesn’t remember about being at Woodstock. The music opened with “Darkest Hour,” an intensely emotional song about finding what matters in moments of despair. For the most part, though, Guthrie ignored requests to mine his backlist and sang old standards such as “St. James Infirmary.” But what better way to end the evening than with a group sing of his father’s “This Land is Your Land?” An encore ensued in which he tore up the fret board on a Leadbelly song, but the good vibes of “This Land” were the evening’s takeaway message. If tragedy can have a bright side, Arlo Guthrie provided it.
A January 23, 2010 concert certainly did more than its part to fill the coffers. Northampton’s Academy of Music was completely sold out for an evening of music headlined by Arlo Guthrie. It may seem fatuous to comment on the nature of the music for such a cause, but what more can one say to Northampton residents other than “Well done” and “Keep up the community spirit?” So on with the music….
The evening opened with The Winterpills, an eclectic group whose music lives somewhere in the seams where folk, electronica, and art rock dwell. The Academy of Music is one the nation’s oldest opera houses, a two-tiered grand dame that seats over 800. It’s not the most-forgiving venue and The Winterpills struggled through a set that was overly long and whose sound was muddy. Their music is often quite introspective and geared towards more intimate settings. There were moments to savor, especially the vocals of Flora Reed, but overall the performance was more heartfelt than affecting.
The audience came alive when The Primate Fiasco took the stage. Eclectic doesn’t even begin to describe their blend of Dixieland, Tin Pan Alley, folk, jazz, funk, and whatever else inspires them. Lead singer Dave DellaRusso has used the term “psychedelic Dixieland” to describe their sound and it’s as good as any. By whatever label you apply, Primate Fiasco is so much fun I’m surprised they’ve not been declared illegal. Know any other bands that mix a full drum kit, clarinet, trumpet, tuba, and banjo? The quintet had the old barn hopping and they went out in style—Chris Trevethan unhooked a snare, J. Witbeck hoisted his tuba, and the group marched away from its mics, stood in front of the orchestra pit, and led the house in singing a medley of “When the Saints Go Marching In” and “Mama Don’t Allow.” They were hot and they correctly gauged the mood of a crowd that needed to party rather than ponder.
Martin Sexton then popped onto stage for just a few numbers. He was a late addition to the bill and brought his incredible guitar work and his ethereal and idiosyncratic vocals with him. His finale was a cover of the Joe Cocker version of “A Little Help From My Friends,” complete with the falsetto backup vocals, the spazzy mannerisms, and the overall surrealism of Cocker. It too was great fun.
Then came the man everyone was waiting for: Arlo Guthrie. I hadn’t seen Guthrie in over a decade and was floored by how good he still sounds. Although he joked that he was "only what's left of what I used to be," at age 63 his voice remains strong and his guitar playing is miles beyond what it was when he ruled the pop charts. As befits a benefit (can I say that?) he did a short set, but it was a magnificent one. As always, he told delightfully loopy stories, including some great shtick about what he doesn’t remember about being at Woodstock. The music opened with “Darkest Hour,” an intensely emotional song about finding what matters in moments of despair. For the most part, though, Guthrie ignored requests to mine his backlist and sang old standards such as “St. James Infirmary.” But what better way to end the evening than with a group sing of his father’s “This Land is Your Land?” An encore ensued in which he tore up the fret board on a Leadbelly song, but the good vibes of “This Land” were the evening’s takeaway message. If tragedy can have a bright side, Arlo Guthrie provided it.
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