|
Newport, new year, new sponsor, revamped lineup. It seems that the traditional folkies don't gather like they used to, and in the last couple of years the most venerated folk festival of 'em all has tried to keep itself relevant by inviting contemporary bands who play more than a little rock 'n' roll in an attempt to get the alterna-leaning concertgoers to come out and play (read: Bonnaroo and Coachella).
Last year's two-day lineup saw the likes of Lucinda Williams, Rufus Wainwright, and Wilco gracing the main stage, and this year's didn't go skimpy on the non-folk sets either. Saturday's show (not reviewed here) saw nearby-hometown heroes The Pixies' first acoustic set headline the day, and Sunday's lineup (reviewed here) featured as its main stage acts neo-bluegrassin' folkies Old Crow Medicine Show (whom I only saw a snippet of due to snake-like traffic), alt-country super-sideman (and solo artist) Buddy Miller, Aussie country queen Kasey Chambers, the bright-shiny-young-thing trio of M. Ward, Bright Eyes, and Jim James (of My Morning Jacket), the dust-bowl duo Gillian Welch and David Rawlings (a last-minute replacement for co-headliner Emmylou Harris, who had a family emergency) and that lover of all American music, old-wave new-waver Elvis Costello.
Maybe the best two-punch in the alt-country arena, Buddy Miller peeled off some new tunes from his latest, Universal United House Of Prayer, in the muggy heat (94 degrees, drippin' wet), creating a place where an Appalachian waterway meets the Mississippi on its way to the Cajun Kingdom. He straight-ahead roots-rocked and barn-stomped, especially when he covered Willie Dixon's version of "You Can't Judge A Book By Its Cover" (with David Rawlings), serving up blues-fueled workingman's country that would seem the best thing you ever heard while guzzlin' an ice-cold bottle of beer.
Kasey Chambers was next up, and her puzzling lack of mainstream stateside success can be summed up with the words "marketing conundrum"—too country for pop and too rocky for country (or perhaps too country for country). Bearing a somewhat tougher look than normal (skull & crossbones tee, black headband, pierced lower lip), Chambers was her usual genuinely pleasant self, both kissing sweet ("Am I Pretty Enough" and "A Little Bit Lonesome") and biting tongue ("Barricades And Brickwalls" and a cover of Lucinda Williams' "Changed The Locks").
Depending on one's demographic, the rotating front-person set of the Ward/Bright Eyes/James trio was either the day's most-highly anticipated grouping or its who-the-hell-are-they? moment. The younger set (or more music-centric) gathered along the wings to shower the alt-conquering threesome with something resembling "rock star" screams, and their heroes did not fail. In concert, Ward toughens his fragile songs with road muscle and that cigarette-and-coffee colored voice, delivering rougher, deeper versions of "Vincent O'Brien," "Undertaker" and an almost murderous "Helicopter" that transcended their lo-fi roots. James was a little frail of voice ("under the weather" as he put it), but was still able to channel that strange and alluring David Gates (Bread)-meets-Neil Young voice he utilizes so wonderfully with My Morning Jacket, and among his Appalachian-influenced offerings he played a couple of MMJ faves ("Golden" and "Bermuda Highway") and a mutated cover of John Prine's "All the Best." And then there's wunderkind-cum-prophet Bright Eyes (AKA Conor Oberst), who played his excellent I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning in its near entirety. The next Dylan, the next Cobain, the next Ryan Adams, Oberst is comfortably settling into something all his own—an awkward yet cocksure stage presence, his emotional and nearly out-of-tune voice sweeping effectively across his unrestrained big-sky wordplay. Those unique qualities bespeak "cult star" and may be what keep Oberst from the arenas, but then again, do you think a "Dylan" would rule stadiums and radio today? Sure, it's a different star that doesn't shine as bright white, and it's a much different day, but if anyone can pull a magic rabbit out of the hat, Oberst has a better shot than most.
Gillian Welch and David Rawlings dusted off the needle-nosed long player and delivered a short set of their spot-on Depression-era magic (and Rawlings is one of the better guitar players you'll ever see). They mixed some old ("Revelator" and "Elvis Presley Blues"), some newer ("Look At Miss Ohio), some yet-to-be-released, and an intriguing, well-done reinvention of Radiohead's "Black Star."
To send the sticky masses homeward, King Costello took the stage as the sun began its descent, and delivered an almost too-generous portion of tunes from his latest, The Delivery Man (a good, but not great offering), for such a late hour (the weary crowd needs party pleasers, not proof of continued viability). Working better for the loudest crowd of the day were Costello and Co.'s slapdash feel on a smattering of favorites ("Uncomplicated," "(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes," "Indoor Fireworks," "Stranger In The House," and "(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love And Understanding"); appropriate-for-the-setting, country-ish covers (Elvis Presley's "Mystery Train," Merle Haggard's "Tonight The Bottle Let Me Down," and The Louvin Brothers' "Must You Throw Dirt In My Face," the latter featuring Welch and Rawlings).
As Costello tallied tongue in cheek the multi-million-dollar waterfront property that dotted the Newport landscape (never mind the million-dollar boats anchored offshore to hear the music wafting seaward), he mused of "the squalor some people live with…," which also seems to size up the current state of Newport folk: comfortably un-counterculture, but good enough to transcend all barriers—even class.
|
