It takes a special kind of courage to perform in a solo setting, but Charlie Parr’s bravery stood him in good stead as he took the stage in the Showcase Lounge of Higher Ground September 29th. The audience rewarded him for his self-deprecating banter as much as his natural affinity for the blues, regularly offering raucous acclamation or tendering respectful near-silence, as appropriate, for the duration of his single set. Apart from the requisite motor-mouths in the back near the bar, the unity of mood in the room at any given time was rare indeed.
Going back and forth between acoustic and electrified guitars, Charlie Parr demonstrated that, while he may not be a brilliant technical musician, his loyalty to the blues is beyond reproach. And he is also earnest, perhaps to a fault, in his devotion to the idiom. Just as often as he seems to fall into a trance playing a tune from ‘Spider’ John Koerner, Furry Lewis (or the more obscure Luther Huff), he can appear possessed with the sounds of the iconic Robert Johnson.
And it took only moments after beginning to play that Parr connected with those in front of him: those who received his discourse on topics ranging from macrame to skateboarding to interactions with his ten-year-old daughter, with a complete lack of pretense. In speaking about the podcasts he listens to or songs that he discovers, Parr never comes across as merely academic, but rather perpetually curious. As a result, he has honed himself into a practitioner of style whose impact transcends both his vocal and instrumental skills.
There is no artifice with Charlie Parr, so he radiated an uncommon charisma as he occupied the tiny stage, bare except for his instruments and the stool on which he perched. It was hardly a surprise then that his “ aggressively capo’d” near-instrumental close to the end caught the rapt attention of the hundred-plus people in attendance; similarly, his a capella closer engendered genuine drama and an appropriately rousing response from those remaining to the close of his near-ninety minute single set.
Ostensibly touring in support of his recently-released, superb new album Dog, it was obviously incumbent upon the bedraggled-looking, good-humored Minnesota musician to include tunes like “Peaceful Valley” in his set list. Still, such originals did not come at the expense of the nuggets he’s unearthed in his scholarly exploration of the genre that clearly moves him to the soul and elicits a comparably hearty yet respectful response from attendees such as those in Vermont: Charlie Parr presents what constitutes a psychic cleansing of the palate to such music lovers.
The man didn’t reference selections from his new record or mention the merch for sale in the back of the smaller room @ Higher Ground, but then he doesn’t accede to any show business ritual like leaving the stage to return for a fait accompli encore. It’s as heartening to think the likes of those who came to see Charlie Parr this autumn evening would return in the future as surely as he will (and his declaration of intent was clear on that point).
Little wonder he did not have to beckon the audience closer to the stage as did opener Kelly Ravin. Even in this day of lavish, theatrical concert presentations from rootless artists (sic), blues and otherwise, naturally gravitate to self-effacing performers like this man whose devotion to craft is as pure and unsullied as his presentation.
