"Gloriously Unceremonious"- Willie Nelson Live at Starlight Theatre

(From Kansas City Star/Roy Inman)

Aside from the house lights fading down and cheers erupting into the cool summer night air, country legend Willie Nelson's on-stage entrance at Kansas City's Starlight Theatre was gloriously unceremonious. Coming after a riveting set from rising alt country artist Jason Isbell and Alison Krauss' nostalgic bluegrass affair, Nelson's work was austere from the start. Opening with "Whiskey River", he firmly stood in place with his weathered guitar Trigger and nasally sang "whiskey river don't run me dry" before his Family Band had set up on stage. Rather than dwell on the slinky vamp of "Still is Still Moving to Me", he spit out lines like they were last rites. At 81 years old, Nelson has every right to play up his legend. He could coast on past glories and no one would blame him. But not once in his near two-hour show to a sold-out crowd did he kick up his cowboy boots. 

When classics came, Nelson never lingered on them for long. Most artists would anchor sets or close with a song like "Funny How Time Slips Away", not Willie. He has enough songs for 20 shows and is blessed with the luxury of tossing out greatest hits like they were garbage. He didn't afford the bluesy ballroom number its proper denouement; choosing instead to leapfrog into the aching "Crazy". I personally prefer Nelson's effort to the Patsy Cline affair and last night reminded me why. His punctured whine fully conveys the desperation of "I'm crazy for trying" and live the line is devastating. But even "Crazy" wasn't allowed to luxuriate at Starlight. Nelson and the Family obliterated it into dust with the walloping "Night Life". Mickey Raphael's harmonica wailed and Nelson soloed with the steely-eyed intensity of a contract killer. The admission "it ain't no good life" would've been toothless without their full-committal. 

While Nelson and the Family's allegiance to the material was mesmerizing throughout, the show's middle was the most spellbinding. "Georgia on My Mind" brought the crowd to a reverent hush with just the wobbling incantations of "Georgia, Georrrgia." Bobbie Nelson's work on the keys was punctuated, affording Willie room to sweetly sing his old song. In the right hands the number has the power to stop anyone in their tracks and it was clearly in the right hands with Nelson.

It was "Always on My Mind" though that truly won the night. If the phrase "hindsight is 20/20" didn't exist before Nelson cut his version of the Brenda Lee song in 1982, it would've been invented shortly after. Few song narrators have ever sounded as wrecked as Nelson in "Always on My Mind". Everything he should've done was blindingly obviously, but he ignored all of it. Watch Nelson in the song's rudimentary video. Around the 1:40 mark his eyes repeatedly look away after he confesses "I just never took the time." It's the look of a man who knows he'll never get her back. She had every right to leave and fully executed said right. Despite the song being set to a slightly slower tempo live, Nelson kept in that nervous flitting. More than his defiant soloing in new track "Bring It On" or picking in the eerie border town tune "I Never Cared for You", his nervousness was the most bone chilling. For a master wordsmith, it's oddly hilarious that what left the biggest mark was a simple action.

"Odd" is what has best described Nelson since the beginning though. Crossing over from Nashville songwriter to singer in the early 1960s was "odd." Releasing an insular concept album about a murderous preacher and having it go double-platinum is "odd." Ending the night with the one-two punch of goofy pot ode "Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I Die" and Hank Williams country gospel standard "I Saw the Light" is "odd." He's not "The Red Headed Stranger" as has long been suggested. He's genuinely strange. And without his peculiarities, country music would be far less interesting.

Setlist:
1. "Whiskey River"
2. "Still is Still Moving to Me"
3. "Beer for My Horses
4. "Kansas City"
5. "Funny How Time Slips Away
6. "Crazy"
7. "Night Life"
8. "Me and Paul"
9. "Shoeshine Man" (Tom T. Hall cover)
10. "Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys" (Ed Bruce cover)
11. "Good Hearted Woman" (Waylon Jennings cover)
12. "Help Me Make It Through the Night" (Kris Kristofferson cover)
13. "Georgia on My Mind" (Ray Charles cover)
14. "I Been to Georgia on a Fast Train" (Billy Joe Shaver cover)
15. "Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground"
16. "On the Road Again"
17. "Always on My Mind" (Brenda Lee cover)
18. "Nuages" (Django Reinhardt cover)
19. "Bring It On"
20. "Band of Brothers"
21. "I Never Cared for You"
22. "Will the Circle Be Unbroken?"
23. "I'll Fly Away"
24. "Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I Die"
25. "I Saw the Light" (Hank Williams cover)

"I Got It" ft. Rich Homie Quan- Young Thug

At this point trying to keep up with Atlanta rap weirdo Young Thug's projects is dizzying. Last week I was fawning over the do-or-die, traphouse meets Galaga track "Cash Talk" which served as an update on his scheduled Metro Thuggin mixtape with Atlantan producer Metro Boomin. When imprisoned 1017 Brick Squad corporal Gucci Mane had four new mixtapes released on the same day in June Thug filled up an entire tape by himself. In May he unleashed his "bando bustin" yelps on T.I.'s "About the Money". And then we have Black Portland, the rapper's synchronous effort with fellow oddball Bloody Jay that's one of 2014's best mixtapes. 

Now comes Nerds, Thug’s team-up with producer C4 that's already yielded "OMG" with ratchet artist IAMSU! If the DJ Mustard indebted tune suggested "drunk", "I Got It" with rap crooner Rich Homie Quan begs to be cut-off. Thugga flails all around a spry C4 beat of brisk hi-hat tics and a sample of casual guitar playing; squeaking, yipping, and hollering "I got what you want" as only he can do. While Thug's "routine" can be reduced to "he cycles through a lot of voices and spits non sequiturs," it hasn't gotten old yet because of the unpredictability involved. Like someone who's been chronically over served, you never know what he's going to say next. "I Got It" operates as a giddy love song, but Thug could drop into gangster posturing at any second. In fact, he briefly does when pointing out "I'm a true Blood so it’s a B-cup" while discussing bra sizes. Quan never gets off a line quite as good, though hearing him mumble sing "I show my ass like baboons, I'm the king of the jungle" is pretty terrific. Really he's there to fortify Thug's weirdness. Rather than solve the enigma, he embraces it. Which is what anyone questioning Thug's auteur status should do. Rap's far more interesting with him around.




Nerds has no current release date, but I'll be all over it when it drops.

Jason Isbell Live at Starlight Theatre

NPR.com/Michael Wilson

I'm ignoring all the distractions I can as Alabama native Jason Isbell takes the stage at Kansas City's Starlight Theatre. I pay no mind to the Sun beaming down out of the west or the small beads of sweat slowly rolling down my beard. Sitting next to me, my dad is slightly less attentive. He's never heard of Isbell, so when the former Drive-By Truckers singer/lyricist/guitarist arrives he's still fiddling with the turquoise jaguar head of his wooden cane. Isbell himself is entirely nonplussed setting up; amiably saying he and backing band the 400 Unit hail from "Muscle Shoals, Alabama." 

When the first song "Codeine" comes wafting out of the speakers, my dad perks up and immediately asks me "this is pretty good huh?" I only half hear the question over the warmly piping accordion and leisurely running guitar. They exist to temper the disappointment that nags at so many of Isbell's songs. In the case of "Codeine" those sedate runs betray the mildly venomous repetition of "if there's one thing I can't stand," which ends with contempt for half-baked cover songs and the earsplitting sound of a heart breaking. 

"Live Oak" follows and burrows far past disappointment, into true despair. It’s a number that's hard to shake; replete with plinking piano that casts a ghostly pallor. In the verses, an empathetic woman is fooled by the pleasant shadow of a Pre-Civil War murderer and soon her empathy lands her six feet in the ground. Strangely the despair doesn't come from the woman who realizes her mistake, but the murderer. He wonders aloud "would I ever find another friend?" as he walks away from her fresh grave. You can hear loneliness creeping into his voice as he wipes flecks of dirt from his hands. Love and romance are untenable with the life he's leading, a fact he has to know but refuses to concede. Though murder's an obvious extreme, we all have things we think can coexist with love and romance. Frequently we want love to come on our own terms, which isn't the way it works.

While "Alabama Pines" picks up the tempo, it retains much of "Live Oak"'s want. This time however, Isbell's stuck in a dingy motel room with no A.C., looking to get back to the Heart of Dixie. The steely caress of guitar and trotting drums can't quell his yearning. Like anyone who has been away too long, he's not looking to see anything special. I can identify. Any time I'd make my three hour drive back to Kansas City from Kirksville when I was in college, the first thing I'd want to do was lie in my own bed or walk around my neighborhood block. What Isbell wants is to grab a libation from Wayne's: the only liquor store open on a Sunday.

Returning home or dwelling on the past isn't all good though and "Cover Me Up" adroitly proves that point. Opening Isbell's marvelous 2013 record Southeastern, the echoing acoustic track recalls "days when we raged," and had the vocal bite to match. Dabbed with lavender stage lights Isbell howls about flying off the handle and the damage that "was done." While the moment felt intensely personal, its message is universally relatable to those inside and outside of Starlight’s brick walls. Sometimes what you've done can't be corrected and all you can say is "mistakes were made" and move on. Of course the ugly truth of making so many of the same mistakes for so long is that you run out of friends willing to keep forgiving you. Set closer "Traveling Alone" woefully acknowledges this. Underpinned by eddying guitar and near silent drums, Isbell is looking for anyone who will hop in the car with him and drive. "Won't you ride with me?" he asks with desperation hanging in the summer evening air. Knowing where to go doesn't mean a damn thing if you have no one to go with.

Though I wanted to hear the heart-rending cancer story "Elephant", I'm not disappointed when the set ends without its inclusion. Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit are unwaveringly committed to their muse and even if they chase it through pitch-black valleys, I'm happy to follow. And in the future, I'll have someone to follow along with me.

Track Attack- "Born in the U.S.A. (Demo Version)" (Bruce Springsteen, 1982/1998)

"Born in the U.S.A." was the song that got me into Bruce Springsteen. I know that isn't a particularly earth-shattering revelation, countless people came to The Boss in a similar fashion. But I still remember mine, which has to count for something. When I got my first MP3 player at 13 I went on a downloading spree on the non-free Napster, filling my drab gray electronic stick up with whatever caught my eyes and ears. One song was Born in the U.S.A.'s booming title-track. If "Like a Rolling Stone"'s opening snare shot kicked open the door to Springsteen's mind, Max Weinberg's "exploding drums" left giant wood splinters in my brain. It wasn't just Weinberg's raucous playing though; it was Professor Roy Bittan's synthesizer riff which has hypnotic bile coursing through its Clarion veins. Hearing it now, I'm still not sure if he's striving for anthemic or stomach churning. 

And then of course there's Springsteen, howling with a righteous hunger and indignation he's rarely returned to. More than any of those other elements, his voice is what drew me in. At 13 I had no idea why he was screaming. That utter desperation cast a spell on me though and when I returned to Springsteen several years later, this time for good; the crushing despair is what drew me back in. If the veins in Springsteen's face weren't popping out when he recorded the album version, it'd be easy to imagine. The cliché of doing (blank) "like your life depended on it" has rarely been as true in music as it is here. His wailing about going to "kill the yellow maaan" doesn't have anything to do with bloodlust or cultural imperialism, he's been backed into a corner and using the rifle in his shaking hands is the only way to get out.

If the 1984 album version of "Born in the U.S.A." is about desperation, the ‘82 acoustic version Springsteen cut for Nebraska is resignation incarnate. Gone are the massive drum fills and queasy synth lines. The seismic roar of Springsteen's voice is distilled to a ghostly whisper. "Righteous hunger" has ceded to starvation. Infamously Ronald Reagan's 1984 presidential campaign attempted to co-opt the song and sought The Boss' endorsement. Wholly unaware of the song's bitter resentment of blind nationalism and mistreatment of Vietnam vets, conservative columnist George Will went so far as to say of Springsteen, "He is no whiner, and the recitation of closed factories and other problems always seems punctuated by a grand, cheerful affirmation: 'Born in the U.S.A.! '" Had Will listened to Springsteen's intensely strummed offering first, he would've altogether abandoned any "patriotic" talk. No way could anyone point to jingoism in a line like "nowhere to run and nowhere to go," especially when there's nothing distracting you from the sentiment.

It's easy for some then to see the song's true colors and label Springsteen unpatriotic. While I find it incredibly dimwitted to do so, I understand it. Just like most don't want to hear their favorite sports team lambasted, they don't wish to see their country taken down either. Hearing Springsteen depict Veteran's Affairs as callous, "you" want to fire back at the charge. It's a department that does deeply important work and how dare someone criticize it. He's not criticizing V.A. callousness or American ineptitude after Vietnam out of hate though, but love. He had friends shipped off to the war. He got the same draft notice in the mail and had to take the same physical. While he was "fortunate" enough to fail, plenty of his friends weren't so lucky. This isn't a situation then he's unfamiliar with, he knows it all too well. When he frantically plucks guitar strings in the Tracks version and anxiously moans "I had a brother at Khe Sahn, fighting off the Viet Cong, they're still there, he's all gone" your heart falls out of your chest because its uncomfortably real. With "Born in the U.S.A." Springsteen wasn't speaking out of turn about a country that had given him everything; he was giving a voice to those who the country abandoned. It's not a condemnation so much as a correction. And the sparse 1982 demo version makes that painfully clear.

I hope everyone has a happy Fourth of July! Look for the blog to return in full-force on Monday.

"ILYSB"- LANY

"And you need to know that I'm hella obsessed with your face," LANY's enigmatic vocalist tenderly croons in bouncy new single "ILYSB". Hearing that phrase delivered in such an endearing tone, I'm reminded of an ongoing "game" my friend Michael and I play. Over the last year or so, we've kept a running tab of artists who use "f***" so masterfully that it becomes a delicate word. Iron & Wine, Bon Iver, Lana Del Rey, Beyoncé, Kanye West, and Vampire Weekend have all been added to the hallowed ranks and while "hella" is far removed from the infamous four-letter word, LANY at least deserve an honorable mention for the way they use "hella." Instead of a fifth grader's favorite word, it's a paean of love; an innocent confession lacking any of the hazards "obsession" often comes with. Even the title, rendered in an acronym, is an ingenuous admission of affection. "I love you (babe) so bad" the singer repeatedly hums in the chorus, finger snaps and tidal synthesizer carefully accompanying him.

The cautious production is really what rescues "ILYSB" and LANY from dire romantic drama. When they sing "and you need to know that you keep me up all night" there's no agony dripping from the line. Right as the phrase ends, what sounds like a guitar is gently plucked and the pressure is alleviated. There's no pain or worry anywhere. The serene music would have you convinced he's up all night because it's a new love. The kind where everything done together is an important "event." A sort of love where you're sending texts that read "ILYSB" at 2AM in the morning as you go to bed. Or perhaps a simple smiley face emoticon. Considering the warmth of "ILYSB" the latter is more likely.



LANY's Acronyms single is now available on iTunes.

"Cash Talk"- Young Thug (Prod. Metro Boomin & 808 Mafia)

"Whatchu say?" Atlanta rap auteur/professional weirdo Young Thug squeals in "Cash Talk", his latest pairing with Atlantan producer Metro Boomin as Metro Thuggin. Considering Thug's pinched-off delivery of the line over the Galaga meets traphouse beat, it can be construed one of several ways. Emboldened by the sturdy bass, Thug is chest puffing and asking haters what shade they would dare throw his way. Or the syrup-addled ATLien is mimicking the most common question anyone hearing his music for the first time would ask, "whatchu say?" With the marble-mouthed Gucci Mane and Autotune loving Future providing competition, Young Thug still stands out in Atlanta rap as the most misunderstood. Check out any number of entries on Rap Genius for Thug's music and you'll find glaring lyric holes or debates over what exactly it is he's saying. Even if his words are properly transcribed there's a reasonable chance you'll still be asking "whatchu say?" Unless Thug’s a serious Transformers fan, "Y'all like we wear black diamonds, stingray, no bumblebee" doesn't mean anything. It's a liquid non sequitur that flows like rain on a slanted roof.

 Which leads to a third possibility. "Whatchu say?" could be an incomplete thought of "it's not whatchu say, but how you say it." Delivery is what matters more in our fast-paced communication and at this point Thug has his delivery perfected. He'll squeal, scream, bark, bellow and laugh, often on the same track. "Pull up in a hearse you're head imma burst" is a relatively minor threat unless it’s delivered in Young Thug's frantic tone. Hearing him speed through the line, you'd think he was going to kill everyone at the funeral and then hit another wake "just because." Maybe it's the Southern Gothic churn that so frequently accompanies him, but much of Thug's work has that feel. It's a do or die urgency few in any genre possess right now and it's a marvel to hear, no matter what it is he’s saying.



The Metro Thuggin mixtape is loosely pegged for a summer release.