But the fact is Chris and Rich, however disagreeable they can get, are a hugely comforting tandem—wiry, fiery Chris, and bulkier, brooding Rich—and they’re again finding new, common ground in how much confidence the band has in Warpaint. It’s a voluble, folsky album, and for the Vibes the Crowes had all of its touch points at the ready, from the trundling, reverb-soaked blues of Walk Believer Walk and the ’60s pop boogie of Wounded Bird to prettier pieces of soulful, Laurel Canyon-style folk-rock like Locust Street and Whoa Mule that sound more learned, more lived-in, more thought-through than some of the clunkier, hippy-dippier West Coast folk strains they’ve brought to bear in the past.
Tonight’s set wasn’t a collection of loose parts relying solely on the Robinson mojo and a few good guitar licks and drum cracks to make the show a whole; the Crowes sound comfortable enough with who they are again to be called versatile in what they can accomplish—protean, even. The hallmarks of any good Crowes show are living and breathing: the bluesadelic jamming, the strutting cock rock (a Hard to Handle/Wounded Bird one-two to close the set), the pounding grooves and the gospel-tinged rave-ups (including another tight reading of the Delaney & Bonnie Poor Elijah / Tribute to Johnson medley that’s become a setlist staple in 2008) given to preachy, call-forth-the-rock-congregation drama.
But it was a sonic synergy as well as a stylistic one: the confluence of Luther Dickinson’s meaty, twangy slide meeting Rich’s chunky fills, a great intra-band sense of movement lending both substance and texture to the sloggier passages of Thorn In My Pride, or finding the middle ground between resignation and portent in Wiser Time, or playing up the guitar tandem lilts a tasty, funk-flecked jam tucked comfortably into Downtown Money Waster.
It was also nice to hear them try on the Dead’s arrangement of Cold Rain and Snow—it hasn’t quite come into its own yet, with Chris looking to strike a balance between soulful and pastoral in the chorus, but keys man Adam MacDougal’s coloring brought just enough to the song to enhance it without gilding the lilly, and I had to blink and make sure it wasn’t Rob Barraco’s signature twinkling piano up there. Dickinson gets all the headlines, legitimately—he’s the business and a fine, fine fit for the Crowes. But the MacDougal dude’s no joke either—a later electric piano solo during “Wiser” was slow to marinate and ace in how it played on the song’s various tension points, later yielding back to Dickinson for a showier passage. Chemistry between new members and old? Sure thing.
So yeah, the Crowes have earned back their swagger, and that goes whether on stage or when turning their “don’t fuck with the Crowes” laser beams on everyone from Maxim to Gretchen Wilson. They’re still hard-rocking, still soulful, still taking themselves too seriously, and still lovable, and it’s damn good to have them stable and back to weapons-grade strength again.
Overall, the healthy glow that pervades any Vibes before long has already set in; Porter Batiste Stoltz brought the Crescent City with them earlier tonight and please—please—let these present tours not be the last we hear from Zappa Plays Zappa, which Frank’s scion Dweezil has fashioned into a carnival of virtuosity—not least his own—while never letting any one element overshadow the overall Zappaness. And if there’s been one set so far that’s set the Vibe Tribe on fire, it was a scorcher from Deep Banana Blackout, which included plenty of hot-skillet funk and a stretch of P-Funk that had the whole place bopping as one. Deep Banana—its original, reconstituted lineup, no less—is a privilege these days, and not a norm, which helps it to stay fresh and lively. A Vibes favorite, and so far the class of the festival.
You want to hear about Thursday, too, and while life got in the way of my attending the opening night camp-out, all accounts from pals and acquaintances on the ground so far—as well as what I could get from Vibes radio feeds—suggest Dark Star Orchestra was well on its game, and Donna Jean and the Tricksters lived up to their billing as one of this year’s better collaboration stories (see ’em—they’re the real thing—and their version of Till the Morning Comes has become a signature.)
Collaborations? Well, yes, of course. DSO performed a real wizzer of a date—11/6/77 from Binghampton, NY—and it went a little something like this (courtesy DSO setlist page on the DSO website):
Set 1: Mississippi Halfstep, Jack Straw, Tennessee Jed, Mexicali Blues*> Me & My Uncle*, Friend of the Devil*, Minglewood Blues, Dupree’s Diamond Blues, Passenger, Dire Wolf, Music Never Stopped
Set 2: Samson & Delilah@, Sunrise, Scarlet Begonias> Fire on the Mountain@> Good Lovin@, St Stephen> Drums> Not Fade Away@> Wharf Rat> St Stephen> Truckin
Encore: Johnny B. Goode#
Filler: Don’t Let Go#> And We Bid You Goodnight#
* with Jeff Mattson tagging in for John Kadlicek on guitar and vocals
@ with Donna Jean tagging in for Lisa on vocals
# both Donna Jean and Lisa together on vocals
The beach, swathed in Dead and other pleasant spirits, seems like a kind place to be. More to come as we get our sea legs under us—we’ve got nearly 70 percent of the festival to chew on still.
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