Falcon Ridge Preview Concert

The Brilliant Inventions might just live up to their name!

Chuck E Costa, The Brilliant Inventions, Swing Caravan
PACE
Easthampton, MA
May 27, 2010

Whenever I can catch a lesser-known Falcon Ridge act outside of the festival I like to do so as I’m not a fan of their workshop stage, where new talent only gets to perform a few songs before they’re shoveled off the stage as if a dog act had just finished and ballet dancers are up next. (In general I’m not a Falcon Ridge fan—too expensive, too buggy, and when it rains it’s a mud pit!) So I was happy to be able to catch three preview acts at PACE in Easthampton, MA on May 27. I was also happy to have been there as me, Phoenix, and three friends made up about a third of the audience. (How does this place stay in business?)

First up was Chuck E Costa, a Connecticut-based singer songwriter with a gentle demeanor and sweet voice. Check out the sample of his “When the City Comes” and you’ll hear his promise and where he has to go to make the next leap. Costa’s songs are all a bit too mid-tempo and he needs a guitar with better tone, but he’s a wonderfully earnest young man who exudes authenticity and has a brain in his head. Right now he’s in the promising-but-raw category, but he’s also the kind of guy you want to do well.

By far the evening’s greatest revelation was The Brilliant Inventions, the self-mocking, quirky indie folk/pop duo of Josh Lamkin and Eliot Bronson. These Atlanta-based lads have opened for They Might Be Giants and their thoughtful musings, bright harmonies, and off-center demeanor make them a perfect fit for a TMBG concert, though it’s just a matter of time before they become top-drawer headliners in their own right. How many groups do you know that write songs based on concepts that intrigued them in a world religions class? Check out their “Lights You Up.” Better yet, take a flier on these guys if they come your way. If you’re lucky they’ll sing their hilarious high school revenge song.

Here’s the thing about American culture—we bury artists in obscurity, resurrect their works, and repeat until we long for them to return to the grave. I’m starting to feel that way about Django Reinhardt. Go to YouTube and you’ll see why he’s praised, but enough gypsy jazz already! I was, at first, intrigued by Swing Caravan, but I quickly grew bored. Lead guitarist Matthew Shippee really knows his way around the fret-board, percussionist Doug Plavin bangs out more cool beats from a lard bucket than most get from a full drum kit, and the quintet may well have been the most-talented act of the evening. But other than Shippee, the band projected a disinterested demeanor that was a mash-up of a Beat poet affectation and waiting to see an insurance agent. Shippee’s on-the- down beat vocals also wore thin as the evening wore on. If you’re still deep into the Django and swing craze you’ll enjoy Swing Caravan. For me, the bloom has withered. I acknowledge Caravan’s talent, but after two songs I was ready to battle them for the couldn’t-care-less crown.