Unwicked

I went to a show last night at the Blender Theater on E. 23rd Street in NYC. I’ve written elsewhere about Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová and their work in the film “Once” and on the record “The Swell Season.” They were in town last night playing music from the film and album. Hansard is an intense artist, and while he’s clearly capable of silliness, he comes across as a man possessed by his dedication to his craft and his songs. The songs are why you should pick up the record or go see the film.

The pairing with Markéta Irglová reminds me of some of the classic tandems in music. They share a tender bond and communicate in the way of people who are very close. I’ve seem them twice now in venues that don’t really suit them. I think the perfect way to see them is in a crammed pub or coffee house. Something happens to music when you pour it into an amplification system, and while it’s not my main point that the music suffers from being blasted through loud speakers, I do wish I could see them in a more intimate setting than even the Blender offered. But that’s a digression that takes away from my appreciation for what we all enjoyed last night. They were terrific. (Thomas Bartlett offered support on keys.)

One of the unexpected moments was when Glenn sang two silly songs. Hansard sang the song from “Once” where he tells Herself of his failed relationship with the woman who’s in London now, the ballad of the Broken Hearted Hoover Fixer Sucker Guy. He then played his “Banana Man” song that he wrote for his niece; she complained that all his songs are downers and so he wrote a happy song for her. What came through in both songs is that music can do anything, even the songs that are not “serious.” I’d say that music CAN do just about anything, and I think Hansard might share that belief.

Some of the highlights:

• “Leave”
• “Into the Mystic” cover
• Markéta sharing the wooden chair with Glen when they shared the mike
• …everything else–it was a wonderful show.

I will admit to feeling a little annoyed by the people who would hoot and scream like this was a Lynyrd Skynyrd show, but I suppose it’s good they were there to support to the music. (By the way, that’s the first time I have ever written Lynyrd Skynyrd’s name; it’s spelled real funny.)

Amy LaVere opened the night and she charmed the freckles off me. Start with her playing the upright bass. Add that she’s from Memphis, Tennessee and sounds like it. Her support band of Bob Furgo (violin and keys), Paul Taylor (drums), and Steve Selvidge (guitar) [whose name I feel like a clown for forgetting when I originally wrote this!] got the evening onto the right track.

Her latest CD “Anchors and Anvils” seems like it’s been on my shelf for years because of it’s eternal sound. When you first hear her voice, you might think it’s an affectation, but please give her a listen. She gives the bass a good solid thumping and her voice is a lovely counterpoint to the undercurrents in her music. Don’t make the mistake of dismissing her as merely cute. LaVere has something going on, and when someone sounds like an amalgam of Emmylou Harris and Björk, you shouldn’t pass her up.

They didn’t allow cameras last night, so I snapped a couple of lousy shots on my cellphone. [Thanks to the comments below, I was able to identify the rest of the musicians; thank you, thatbeat and Rob.]