Concert Highlights–Lyle Lovett and His Large Band, 8/9/15

Someone nudged me on the shoulder a couple Sundays ago in the middle of Lyle Lovett’s show at Lincoln Center Out of Doors to point out the obvious: With 14 pieces in His Large Band, it costs a lot of money to put them on the road.

And these weren’t ordinary pieces, not by a long shot. To identify the ones I know: the legendary Russ Kunkel on drums, Matt Rollings on piano, Keith Sewell on guitar and mandolin, John Hagen on cello, Viktor Krauss on bass, Luke Bulla on fiddle, vocalist extraordinaire Francine Reed. Players with credits like these cost money, and that’s not even counting their suits, dry cleaning bills, and three tour buses.

And the way Lyle treats his musicians speaks plenty about what kind of guy he is. Not only did he introduce everyone at Lincoln Center, he related where everyone was from, how long they’d been with him (some since 1978!), and what they do when they’re not with him.

“It’s nice to get together with your close friends and your family, no matter what the occasion is,” he said, then, leading into his wonderful “Since the Last Time” take on funerals, added, “Sometimes even a solemn occasion can be joyful.” So many of his musicians had made their own records or played on so many major recordings, he noted, that “the world wouldn’t be the same without them.”

So he let each band member mention his outside work and gave many of them solo spots, most notably Reed, who actually began the show singing her great version of the Ida Cox blues classic “Wild Women Don’t Get the Blues” from the middle of the audience before joining Lovett on stage on “What Do You Do.” Bulla was beautiful on “The Temperance Reel,” and Sewell likewise shined brightly on one of his songs. Lovett also brought out Willie Nelson’s longtime harmonica player Mickey Raphael to help out on a tune: “I travel around, so my friends cannot escape me,” Lovett said. “But when you see your old friends you realize that life just can’t get any better—which is a sobering thought when you realize they aren’t going to get any better!”

But the respect Lovett shows for his band extends into space and suffuses his entire fan base. Looking out into the August Lincoln Center evening crowd, he expressed delight that there was still plenty of sunlight for him to see how well-dressed everyone was—when it was clearly shorts and t-shirts.

He also expressed how he’s grateful every day that his folks gave him the opportunity to pursue music, and were so supportive of a pursuit that has since led him to the White House, where he has participated in the Country Music and The Gospel Tradition installments of the PBS series In Performance at the White House. He delved easily into both genres at Lincoln Center, centering on his own unique niche of country swing that’s more big band jazz than traditional Texas or Western swing.

But being Texan really underlies Lovett’s work: “I talk so much about my home state,” he said, “and I got to see so much of it on weekend road trips through the windshield, where you get an up close look at the world that you don’t get sitting in the back.”

He ended with one of my favorite songs of his, “That’s Right (You’re Not from Texas),” a sweet appraisal of obvious outsiders who are nevertheless welcomed warmly. He was even sweeter himself afterward, bringing out his own photographer to take his pictures with everyone at the meet-and-greet. Mine showed me in shorts and the same worn-out golf shirt I seem to wear whenever my picture’s taken, that and a fraying army web belt with the end looking like it’s dangling out of my open fly—which it wasn’t, I hastily add.

So much for how well-dressed we all were.

Here’s “That’s Right (You’re Not From Texas)”:

Concert Highlights–Robert Earl Keen at City Winery, 6/10/14

Ran into Tom Silverman, one of the most brilliant people I know in the record business, outside Joe’s Pub as I was leaving Tammy Faye Starlite’s Marianne Faithful/Broken English show and rushing to Colin Blunstone’s at City Winery. Quickly thanked him for inviting me and a few hundred of his other closest friends to his birthday party the next night, to start at 10 or 11 or so, but said I had to bow out.

“It’s too late for you,” Tom said, kindly sparing me the embarrassment of having to say so myself.

So Tuesday afternoon (June 10) I showed up again at City Winery, this time for Robert Earl Keen’s sound check. I realize that yes, I’m too old for an 8 p.m. show, so from now on I’m going to review the soundchecks. REK loved the idea, and said the soundchecks are better than the shows anyway.

I got there and steel player Marty Muse was tuning up. Marty had helped me a week ago on an appreciation piece for my favorite steel player Weldon Myrick, whom Marty had interviewed for his steel player documentary project.

Marty said he had started incorporating his favorite Weldon lick into the show, and went into—of course—the steel intro to Gary Stewart’s “Shes Actin’ Single (I’m Drinkin’ Doubles).”

“That’s what he was good at,” Marty said, referring to those great, late Myrick licks. He explained how Weldon played the opening lick of “She’s Actin’ Single,” then modulated it, “then they kind of crossed over each other.”

I kind of thought I knew what he was talking about, that is, if that’s what he said. I’m not sure because, if I may digress, after the sound check, I went out in back to catch a few minutes of Commander Cody’s free “Hudson Square” show in the lot behind the club—and fatefully ran into “Concert Joe.” Two hash oil hits later, I not only walked out of the #1 Uptown train twice before my 42nd Street stop (really, I was pulled out by the invisible energy vortex when the train doors opened), but I somehow managed to lose my notebook (my third lost notebook in 10 days), even as I had scribbled down notes on the train!

So I’m not sure if Marty actually said, “then they kind of crossed over each other,” and if he did, what he meant. I do know I’m sorry I missed him incorporating the lick into whateve REK song he played it in that night.

But the REK band, sans Robert Earl, groove from tuning directly into Dylan’s “She Belongs to Me,” bassist Bill Whitbeck doing vocal honors–and very well. In fact, I’ve always hated the song, even Rick Nelson’s hit cover. I mean, it’s boring melodically, and lyrics like “She’s a hypnotist collector/You are a walking antique”? What the fuck shit is this?

But Robert Earl’s band’s sound check version was exquisite, with Marty Muse starting out on dobro, then switching to pedal steel and then to organ, and Rich Brotherton shifting from mandolin to guitar. Then REK strolled out like he’d just rolled out of bed, even if he was wearing a spiffy seersucker jacket and white hat. But he sounded great on two great songs, during which I killed a beer and forgot to take down the titles. Then I asked him what they were—twice—then lost the notebook.

But I do remember that he’s finishing up an album of bluegrass covers with guests including Lyle Lovett and Natalie Maines. And that Marty Muse has a steel guitar that once was custom-made for Weldon Myrick.