Let the Music Do the Talking

To celebrate a recent milestone, my 1,000th visitor (still a long way to go before I catch up to this guy), I post a small collection of music articles I've written recently. They were originally published in The Bulletin, the expat weekly here in Brussels -- although these are the unedited versions.

A confession about my site-counter: I only just figured out how to make it ignore my own visits.

And a confession about these articles: I'm new to the rock-critic game, so excuse the occasional over-egging-of-the-custard or lazy comparison.

The Saints/The Silos
Le Botanique, 9 March
“Ageing punk band” is an oxymoron on a par with “jumbo shrimp” or “corporate social responsibility”. So it should not have been too surprising that before The Saints began their set a roadie carefully placed two gin-and-tonics and a bottle of Bordeaux by the mic stand. What, no hors d’oeuvres?

Born in the bars of Brisbane, the Saints had a chart hit in 1976 with “I’m Stranded” and were quickly positioned as Australia’s answer to The Sex Pistols. They have soldiered on (and off) ever since, emerging every few years with a different line-up, ever-bloozier new riffs, and occasionally a clever harmony.

Singer-guitarist Chris Bailey is all that remains of the original group, and even though he’s getting on in years (he looks like Paul McCartney on a bad hair day, complete with Macca’s unfortunate mid-90s mullet), his sly grin suits him better than the youthful sneer of yesteryear.

True punk attitude is a tough sell in Brussels, where audiences generally shun moshing in favour of pensive posing, sometimes even allowing a head bob or two. But it’s not worth wasting too much time contemplating such lyrics as “A madman wrecked my happy home/and now I live in a twilight zone”. ‘Tis better to take another sip of claret and get on with thy power chords.

Opening act The Silos, out of New York City, proved the far more rewarding half of the bill. Their refreshing twist on the power-trio format – drums, bass, and three-quarter-size acoustic guitar played through an overdriven amplifier – suited such tight compositions as “The First Move” and “Four on the Floor”. Like the emotional gearbox of the latter tune, the Silos shifted effortlessly between rock urgency and pop jangle, tension and release.

Lap-steel guitar added a plaintive touch to the title track of the band’s new album, When the Telephone Rings – one of the set’s highlights, in which singer Walter Salas-Humara offers what must be the best post-9/11 lyric yet: “Even in New York/How I long for New York”.

Wilco Preview
Elysee Montmartre, Paris, 16 March
Except for a short set on a Werchter side stage last summer, America’s best rock band hasn’t been in Belgium for a while and isn’t coming anytime soon. To catch Wilco in a club setting requires a quick, midweek overnight to Paris -- but isn’t that why we have the Thalys?

Since forming the band after the breakup of alt.country pioneers Uncle Tupelo in 1995, frontman Jeff Tweedy has charted an intriguing and challenging musical course. Gone are the steel guitars and dobros in favor of tape loops and Radiohead-esque knob-twiddling.

But Tweedy’s lyrical brilliance and the band’s top-flight musicianship have been a constants and each of Wilco’s five albums has proven more satisfying than the one before it. Radio airplay has been more elusive than critical acclaim, but album sales are slowly building via savvy internet marketing – and incendiary live shows. The band just won two Grammys for its latest release, A Ghost Is Born.

It’s hip to pine for Uncle Tupelo, but despite the mythologizing of that great combo, Wilco is the better band. Grab a toothbrush and get on the train.

The Neville Brothers
Ancienne Belgique, 26 February
When Aaron Neville takes centre stage he just about fills it, and not without a certain amount of swampy menace -- his heavy-lidded eyes peering suspiciously from under a Stetson brim, his enormous arms bursting out of a T-shirt emblazoned with an American Indian whose face is half panther. Add in the impressive prison ink covering Neville’s biceps, and the dagger (or is it a crucifix?) tattooed on his left cheek, and for a minute you might feel intimidated. Then he opens his mouth to sing and choirs of angels descend.

Nearly 40 years after hitting it big on the pop charts with “Tell It Like It Is,” and known more in recent years for his syrupy duets with Linda Ronstadt, Neville is back together with his brothers, whose eponymous band pioneered the funk-and-soul sound of their native New Orleans.

Brothers Aaron, percussionist Cyril and saxophonist Charles (along with eldest sibling Art, who is recovering from back surgery and missed this tour), could each headline a show in his own right. Their infrequent family reunions are not to be missed – if only because they get Aaron off the movie-soundtrack-ballad circuit and back in the groove.

Now the Brothers have added a generation to the act, which features Aaron’s son Ivan (an alumnus of Keith Richards’ legendary X-Pensive Winos) on keyboards and Art’s son Ian on guitar. The elders seem happy to let Ivan anchor the show with his soulful vocals and virtuoso playing. But sonny can’t overshadow his dad and uncles and doesn’t try to.

With their insistent opening groove, “Can’t Stop the Funk”, from Walkin’ in the Shadow of Life, their first new album in five years, the Brothers restate their soul street credentials. “We been around since bebop,” they remind, “we been around since doo-wop, now we around for the hip-hop.”

The Nevilles have always stirred Motown soul, reggae prophecy, Southern Gospel, African nationalism and even folkie activism into their potent voodoo brew. When they cover the Temptations’ “Ball of Confusion” early in the show, you understand their frustration at “what the world is today”.

Later, when Aaron channels Sam Cooke through the ethereal “A Change Is Gonna Come”, you think maybe there’s hope. After “One Love/People Get Ready”, you even start to feel alright. And, at the end of the show, when Aaron sings “Amazing Grace”, accompanied only by Ivan on the church organ, you fight back a tear and believe for a minute maybe there is a God.