Live music is a victory. Live music renews spirit. Live music is the musician feeding the audience member’s soul. It is hands thrown up in simultaneous rejoicing and surrender. Live music is the shout of reality given an artistic spin. Sometimes it is sad and sometimes it is fun. Live music is a reaffirmation, it is a coming together of people who are willing to set life aside for a few hours and forget everything to immerse in the smell of stale alcohol from the bar, the otherwise unlikely intoxicating aroma of bad bar food and the smiles that peal across your face instinctually.
In Felton, California on March 16th all of those forces intermingled to present a barn burner of a school night show. The bill boasted one of the best songwriters in the game by the name of Tom VandenAvond, the high lonesome Santa Cruz Mountain bluegrass powerhouse The Naked Bootleggers and the night’s highly anticipated headliner, Possessed by Paul James. And as the room began to fill, the aroma changed. It began with the sweet smell of stale beer and whiskey (seriously, you dig it) to the unmistakable musk of some serious locally grown backyard boogie. A person experienced in the horticulture arts could recognize the scent not as the “post smoke” aroma but rather the fresh from the fields/greenhouse harvest smell, still piney and fresh as the gooey tri-chromes tenaciously held to the night’s uniform of plaid flannel shirts and trucker hats. It sure was good to be back with mountain people!
VandenAvond came out in top form accompanied by a banjo player with a fierce beard and happy smile. Tom writes and presents his music in the vein of Townes and his unassuming stage presence and minimal banter kept the focus where it should be – on his road burnished tunes that told the story of Michigan fallen angels, life in and out of San Joaquin Valley bars and the joys of brotherhood through the simplicity of whiskey, guitars and songs sung together. It can be said, without hesitation, that Tom V. has influenced a large number of the contemporaries in his genre. Tom’s style is this gritty Americana, Oakdale tinged, storytelling. More than a few would say that Tom is their favorite and the one gal fist pumping to punctuate the resonating lyric and bellowing her agreement made it clear that she stood in that camp. Most other listeners sat at tables and contemplated the sounds. Tom is that kind of songwriter and performer; he’s the thinking man’s musician.
Then came a striking counterpoint: it was time for The Naked Bootleggers who played to a hometown crowd. There was the chick that had hitchhiked from Pescadero, folks that had just followed Konrad down the coast from the previous night’s show in San Francisco and probably the entire staff of Felton Feed and Pet Supply that had come from the store across the street ready to rage. Bluegrass can be a tough genre to rage to, it too can be contemplative and thoughtful full of murder ballads, songs of family lost and the old home place falling away to a state of decay. But the Bootleggers contrary vibe immediately got folks on the floor for a spirited bluegrass-y, elbow-y hilltop hippie shuffle that just fit the jam of the first song’s chorus:
“My neighbors aren’t so nice but they sure do smell kind.”
Moral of the song: It’s probably not a good idea to hike off trail in the Santa Cruz Mountains from late August through October. And while the song was whimsical and fun, the instrumentation and perfectly on point harmonies were anything but. This band, as stated above, is a powerhouse of acoustic goodness boasting a scorching line up of mandolin, fiddle, banjo, guitar, washboard/harmonica and bass fiddle. Their vocals invoke the perfection of dustbowl/depression era Bluegrass upon which Mr. Monroe would certainly smile. Their music is infectious and an old fashioned throw down that harkens back to the candy pulls corn shucks and harvest celebrations of bygone days. This is the music that reaffirms that in a world of top forty bullshit honest music is accessible and plentiful. Thank God.
And then it was time for Possessed by Paul James. Konrad Wert is a one man band and he derives the name of his project from his Grandfather Paul and his dad James. Roots. Respect. Konrad is currently travelling the country in a camper with his wife and two boys who buoyantly bounced to his music with the rest of the audience trading slick dance moves with hugs and happiness. A special education teacher surely on hiatus at this point, Konrad openly addressed the state of education in this country and his own experiences and plight of a teacher wholeheartedly dedicated to his students. He rightly preached about the plight of his fellow educators driven by passion yet mired in the bureaucracy of the system. Throughout the set he apologized for keeping teachers up late on a school night but the lateness of the hour did not deter any teacher in the crowd from sharing in the bliss of his music. Keeping a steady beat through a mic’d stomp box that transported his audience to a porch party, he alternately played fiddle, banjo, and guitar. Konrad’s musical stamp is scaled back – spare, strong and impassioned. His fiddle work gloriously sawed through the skulls of his audience and conjured images of some backwoods bayou while he growled out lyrics that cut viscerally.
To see the man perform is the only way to understand exactly what he can accomplish on stage and in so many cases, audience members stood open mouthed and wide-eyed with concentration as the man slid from song after song through a solid two hour set without a single break. Sweat did not just stream down his face but dripped from his elbows as he left everything he had on that Felton stage. Yet another reminder that love of craft and passion will always find a way to persevere just as California poppy can break through the concrete seam in a suburban sidewalk. Music like this, performances like this, gives one heart to renew and have faith in all that is good amid a world that grows increasingly dark. Music like this creates belief in the positivity of people.
Live music creates imagination. Live music shines a light on the fact that there is something wonderful, something bigger than us. Live music causes us to see the divine spark that makes man magical. One day we will figure out that live music can give us the strength to throw off the shackles and fly. Those that stood in a woody room, at least for a few hours, in Felton, California on an otherwise unremarkable Wednesday night flew with music. That is something we can all smile about because sometimes it is just feels good to know that those moments are happening out there – somewhere.
