whatbreesees

Friday, October 5, 2012

One Longfellow Square, Portland, Maine

I met my dear friend Shaun on our first night of our first year at Bowdoin College. He’s back in town teaching there for the year, and I’m so excited to have another concert buddy for the duration! We met up in Brunswick after a long week and trekked down to Portland for margaritas and Mexican food (including a fish taco debacle) before the show at One Longfellow Square. It was also Portland’s First Friday Art Walk, so we enjoyed the bustling, vibrant sidewalks full of people and arts in downtown on our way.

I was not at all surprised that OLS was packed for Lori McKenna. We struggled to find seats, but landed on the far edge of the fourth row—probably the farthest from the stage I’ve ever been at OLS. Mark Erelli took the stage soon after we arrived. The last time I saw him was last December at OLS sharing the stage with Jeffrey Foucault. It had been ages since I’d seen Lori—more than six years, in fact. I had to look it up, but I last saw her with Mark in April of 2006 at Chicky’s Fine Diner in Westbrook. It had been far too long.

Bates College alumnus Mark Erelli established himself as a local (or maybe a former local?) by opening with his lovely song, “Congress Street,” which One Longfellow sits on. He told us about his apartment in Portland’s East End (truthfully just off of Congress Street) where he wrote a lot of songs back in the day. He joked that he didn’t usually give so much autobiographical information because made up stories are more fun. He said he lived there with his wife while she was in graduate school and he was bringing home the bacon (or bacon bits, more likely). He wrote “Five Beer Moon” in that apartment “on Munjoy Hill,” too.

Mark rocked out a bit on “Basement Days,” and welcomed us to use our iPhone lighter app anytime we felt moved during the show. Mark was warm and comfortable with us. He played a great new song for us that I really liked. He told us he wanted us to take his music home, so his albums were “pay what you can,” but he clarified that “free is not a price.” He joked that there was also no upper limit to what you might pay for his albums since “some people who own houses on the Western Prom might be here.” He was charming and sounded great. Mark only played a handful of songs because, as we were to find out, he would share the stage with Lori for the rest of the night. He wrapped his set with “Everything in Ruin” and we took a short break between sets.

Lori McKenna took the stage and looked just as I remembered her—she hasn’t aged at all and could absolutely still pass as a twenty something. Mark joined her and it became clear that we’d enjoy them as a duo for the evening. I think Lori’s voice is amazing—deep, raspy, and strong. I can pick out her distinctive voice as easily as Emmylou Harris’ or Adele’s. Her music is rooted in her life experiences—being married to someone for a long time, having five kids, living in a small town, and being on the road. There’s an autobiography and genuineness running through her music that makes it wholly relatable. Her music is so relatable, in fact, that many other artists have recorded her songs. Faith Hill, Alison Krauss, Martina McBride, LeAnn Rimes, Keith Urban, Tim McGraw, and Carrie Underwood are just some of the people who’ve sung Lori’s songs. I remember seeing Lori singing one of her songs on The Oprah Winfrey Show with Faith Hill years ago, too.

I wish I had a better handle on song titles. I listen to music so much in the car that I rarely know what songs are called, but I’ll estimate. Early in her set, Lori and Mark played “Your Next Lover” that includes the sad lyrics “I stood and watched all the stars fade right there from your eyes.” “Stealing Kisses” is also sad—about a young love that’s changed. It goes, “I was stealing kisses from a boy/Now I’m begging affection from a man/In my housedress don’t you know who I am/Don’t you know who I am/Standing in your kitchen/It’s late enough your husband’s dinner is cold/So you wrap it up and leave it for him on the stove/It’s probably the traffic again/Or another important meeting.” Mark sounded great on mandolin on that song.

Before she played “Witness to Your Life,” a song about a wedding, Lori told us that her 24^th wedding anniversary is next month and clarified that it was 24 years with the same person, and consecutively. Lori told us about her new Honda Pilot (she’s said goodbye to her famous touring minivan) and how since it has Bluetooth technology people actually call her car to talk to her. She said she and Mark listened to her daughter crying on the car/phone on the drive up because her brother was literally completely out of gas and couldn’t drive her to gymnastics. They figured out a plan. This openness is part of what I like about Lori’s live show. She is a real person with stories and struggles that she shares in story and in song. She easily creates a sense of communal understanding and closeness.

Lori also told us about her fabulous songwriting group called “The Love Junkies.” Three women—one in her thirties, one in her forties, and one in her fifties—who have never been married, have been married for a long time, and who have been married many times—gather to drink wine and write songs in Nashville. They draw from their diversity of life experiences and have a great time. They (or more specifically, the other two women) got the idea for their group name from an article in a magazine where an actress was quoted as saying that falling in love is like being drunk.

Lori said she’s about to record in Boston and Mark will be producing. I was reminded of Bono during her set. Bono uses a teleprompter that scrolls the lyrics during his live shows and Lori had a binder with each song in it. It’s in the same ballpark, anyhow. One of the songs she’ll record is an old song “How Romantic Is That?” about being with someone for a long time and still being in love. There was a gaggle of excited lady groupies in the audience, and they seemed particularly excited to hear that news.

Lori spends a lot of time writing with other artists, especially in Nashville, and joked with us about how she tries to cover up her thick Stoughton, Massachusetts accent, but that it comes out at home and when she’s on the phone with her family. Lori was so charming, and she was also very complimentary of Mark and his performance. She said it sounded like we were screaming for Justin Bieber during Mark’s set. Mark had just toured in Texas and wasn’t sure what stories to tell, so Lori had offered to let him use her stories about the minivan and yoga pants.

I loved “Buy this Town,” a song I read almost didn’t make it onto Lori’s newest album, Lorraine, because she wrote it just after the recording process was over. It’s a bittersweet song about love and small town life—“If I could buy this town/I’d keep the Friday night bleachers full of kids falling in love/And unlikely believers and the firefighters are there/Because their kid’s in the game/And we don’t win too often but that ain’t why we came.”

Lori talked about writing a song on a miniature piano her sister found that she doesn’t know how to play but that Mark helped her fix up. She told us about a recent trip to Nashville to write with Little Big Town and played a couple of the songs they wrote together, “Sober” and “Your Side of the Bed.” A reporter from the Boston Globe accompanied her on the trip and ended up sitting in for the entire writing session because everyone in Little Big Town was so welcoming. Here’s the finished article. I liked the lyrics of “Your Side of the Bed” a lot, even if they’re sad. “Tell me how/How you’d get so far away?/Are you sleeping with your own regrets/On your side of the bed.” My friends often joke when we’re in the car together that I like sad music. I know they’re right.

Lori is such a great storyteller on stage, and she was so sweet to us. She thanked us again and again for showing up and told us we were the nicest people and that she could tell she liked every one of us. Her songwriting advice was that you’ve got to write for yourself because writing to fit someone else’s wishes is too complicated. As a professional songwriter, I trust her judgment.

She told us that one of my favorite LM songs, “Make Every Word Hurt,” was actually supposed to be an upbeat song. It’s not, which is probably when I love it so much. It’s soul crushing, actually. She and Mark sang beautiful harmonies on the song, too. Here is the chorus:  “But whatever you do/For whatever its worth/If you’re gonna tear my world apart/Then I’d prefer/Don’t leave me confused/Don’t let the lines blur/If you’re gonna tell me/You don’t love me anymore/Make every word hurt.” Also, amen to that message.

“Unglamorous” was up next—an upbeat song and I still like it—and Lori and Mark had a little guitar jam session during it that sounded great. Lori talked about her new EP Heart Shaped Bullet Hole coming out a few days after the show. She closed her set with “Still Down Here,” but we asked for another song and so she left us with her beloved Tom Petty’s “Room at the Top.” We sang along a little bit, too, and it was a great way to close a great night of storytelling and music.

I’d chatted throughout the night a little bit with an older woman sitting in front of me who was there with her husband and a couple of friends to celebrate her birthday. At the end of the night, she turned to me and said, “I think I was at the wrong show!” She had mistaken Lori McKenna for someone else whose albums she owns (she couldn’t figure out the name of the person who she thought she was going to be seeing, either). She said she loved Lori McKenna, though, and that it was a happy accident. So cute!

Thanks for a great night, Lori and Mark!

xo,

bree

Friday, September 28, 2012

The Oak + The Ax, Biddeford, Maine

I suspect this is true for most people who work Monday through Friday, but Fridays are often tough for me, and that seems to be the night that a lot of fun things happen on. I’d committed to seeing Joe Fletcher at the first night of The Oak + The Ax Fest soon after I saw him at Newport Folk Festival. I’ve always wanted to see brown bird, so was excited that they were playing the same night. They are from the same state of Rhode Island, after all. Maybe they carpooled.

I stayed after school until 6pm coordinating Mt. Ararat Class of 2016’s spirit wall decorating for the upcoming spirit week (I’m their class advisor). I called my college friend Shaun afterwards to see if he was in town, and we grabbed Indian food in Brunswick in the pouring rain before I took off for Biddeford. I may have accidentally had my first taste of lamb in my life in a samosa that I thought was vegetarian. I will be going to the other Indian food place in Brunswick from now on (I’d tried to go there in the first place, but they were packed). Boo. Sorry, lambs.

I bumped into Joe Fletcher outside the venue and said a quick hello. I made it inside The Oak + The Ax just as The Milkman’s Union was wrapping up their set. I found a random seat against the wall in the front of the room next to the stage and decided to hunker down there for the back-to-back Joe Fletcher/brown bird sets.

I admit that I’m drawn to Joe because he’s good to look at, but I also think he has musical talent and showmanship. His Americana music (I want to call it rockabilly, but his Facebook page disputes this, so.. . ) is not quite my thing, but I think he’s great anyhow. I especially love his deep, raspy voice. Joe’s solo EP, “You’ve Got the Wrong Man” just came out, and I really like his last album with his full band, The Wrong Reasons—“White Lighter.” A Joe Fletcher super fan has a lot of information about him as well as videos here.

Joe played nearly all of his set with David and MorganEve from brown bird. They seem like old friends. Joe played many of the songs I really liked during his Newport Folk Festival set—“Florence, AL,” “Every Heartbroken Man,” “Flat Tire,” “Drunk & Single,” and ended the night with “Too Many Doors.” There’s a song that I don’t know the name of that is a rambunctious sing along. We gladly belted out the chorus when asked—“I never would have gotten on the boat if I’d known/That it was going to take me home.” Joe puts on a good show—he was gracious and had a lot of kind things to say about The Oak + The Ax and their efforts to bring good music to southern Maine, too.

brown bird took the tiny stage and MorganEve Swain set up her upright bass and violin stand while David Lamb tuned his guitar and set up his kick drum. I thought their music was very compatible with Joe’s and they talked about touring and recording together over the years. I was impressed with the power of David’s voice and his ability to sing, play guitar, and stomp on his kick drum (sometimes with both feet) while not flubbing up the lyrics. Practice makes perfect, I guess.

David told us that he used to live directly across the street from The Oak + The Ax, and joked that he had a bottle of Jack Daniels in his window just like everyone else on Main Street. I was surprised by what I picked up as Middle Eastern influences in their solidly country/folk sound. I thought it really added something unique to their music. I loved the variation in the tempo on “By the Reins.” Jeremy and Jerusha Robinson, both former members of brown bird, joined David and MorganEve on it on accordion and cello, respectively. I loved “Fingers to the Bone” with David on banjo. I really enjoyed “Thunder & Lightening.” The lyrics are fascinating—“ain’t nowhere left for the good to go/No truth in a world full of lies/Our unforgiving fettered foes fumbling stumble around/Gather all their greed to go back to their hole in the ground/To wash their hands of all the blood begged borrowed and stole/To keep a good man down.” Here’s a recording of their set at 2011’s Newport Folk Festival so you can get a taste of what brown bird has to offer.

One of the non-musical highlights of bb’s set was their friend Wesley Hartley (from Wesley Hartley & The Traveling Trees) who danced up a storm. I’ve almost never seen moves like that. Wes and his band were going to play on Sunday, the last day of The Oak + The Ax Fest. The weekend was a success, and I hope it means that there will continue to be great shows in Biddeford. It’s incredible that two artists who played at The Newport Folk Festival are just as pleased to play in such a teeny, intimate space. It’s really a treat to get to see bands there.

I think “Bilgewater” (I really recommend you check out that Kitchen Sessions video) was my favorite bb song that night. I liked the haunting, chorus—“in spite of all the wherewithal/to fight it all I will face it all/in spite of all the wherewithal/to fight it all I’ll embrace it all” and the heavy, thoughtful verses—“when everyday’s like a war between the will to go on/and a wish that the world would spiral into the sun/Turn your head toward the storm that’s surely coming along/If the sun was always shining and our load always light/we’d be shaking like a leaf with every God given night/and we’d break under the weight of any pressure/that was ever applied.” They sang it in a round with Jerusha and Joshua, and it was powerful. You can listen to four of five of brown bird’s albums here.

brown bird wrapped up their set with a great country song, “Bottom of the Bottle,” and then “Cast No Shadow.” We asked for one last song and the Robinsons joined David and MorganEve for “Mabel Grey” that had a “la da da” sing along moment so we could end the night singing together.

What a treat to see both bands in such a tiny venue.

xo,

bree

Thursday, September 27, 2012

One Longfellow Square, Portland, Maine

This night caught me totally by surprise. Both bands were utterly impressive, and this was definitely one of the top shows I’ve seen in 2012. If you haven’t heard of Darlingside or Tricky Britches before—if you haven’t listened to them, but especially if you haven’t see them live—let me be the one to encourage you to check them out!

I got a very nice email from Sam—Darlingside’s drummer—about a month before their show saying that they’d stumbled across my blog and wondered if I might be interested in being on the guest list for their show. Those are the kinds of emails I like to get! I had already seen they were coming to One Longfellow Square, and my dear college friend, Ben, had actually sent me a link to their incredible “Terrible Things” video a couple of weeks before Sam’s email arrived. Ben grew up in the same town as Don Mitchell, Darlingside’s guitarist, and apparently even used to baby sit for him. It’s such a small world.

I hadn’t seen my friends Max and Sophie for a long time, so we made plans to grab dinner at Local Sprouts before I made my way over to the show. After I ordered, I turned around and immediately recognized Auyon from Darlingside’s video. I introduced myself and Sam knew who I was (which I appreciated) and we chatted for a quick minute. I wished them a good show and found a spot for a leisurely dinner with Max and Sophie.

I got to OLS just before Tricky Britches was supposed to go on. There was a seat in the middle of the front row that was open, so I grabbed that and settled in. I couldn’t help but overhear a man proudly talking about his son Tyler (Tricky Britches’ fiddler) with some women sitting behind him. It was adorable. I learned that three of the guys are old friends from Gorham High School and have been playing together for a really long time. If I hadn’t overhead Tyler’s proud papa, I still would have figured that out. Talk about chemistry. The guys have an obvious rapport, and it is abundantly clear that they’ve had years of serious practice. Their music is fun and feels casual, but their quality musicianship is no accident. I was seriously impressed by their cohesive, polished sound.

I want to concur entirely with how Tricky Britches describes itself on their Facebook page—“Tricky Britches is a high-energy string band hailing from Portland, Maine. From their roots of playing heel-stomping old-time fiddle tunes they have progressed into a fusion of classic bluegrass, country, and folk rock.” If you like a bluegrass sound—blends of guitar, upright bass, banjo, fiddle, and harmonica—these guys are right up your alley. They were funny, too, introducing themselves as “Alison Krauss and Union Station.” (PS—I’ve seen Alison Krauss and Union Station, and TB would be a superbly appropriate, capable opening act for them). I liked TB’s mix of originals, mountain songs, and covers. “Bear” (Ryan Wilkinson) took the lead on Grateful Dead’s “Brown Eyed Woman.” Everyone could sing! There was lots of toe tapping and clapping along with the music. I’ve rarely seen an opening band bring that much energy and enthusiasm. Here’s a video of Tricky Britches performing “When the Morning Comes” so you can get a taste of their sound.

I thought their original song about “Big Ass Beers” on Bourbon Street in New Orleans was hilarious. Tricky Britches plays weddings and events and a bride this summer asked them to play a waltz not about death, etc., so they changed the words to make a happy version of another song and now have a go-to love song called “By My Side.” They played Hank Williams’ “Tennessee Border” for Jed’s gramps who was sitting behind me. I met him before the show and he was a sweetheart.

Talk about a band that really gets the crowd warmed up! I never miss an opening act, but I’m rarely so sad to see them go. I’m also completely sold on seeing Tricky Britches as the headliner. I loved the ease they showed on stage with each other and they were a complete blast. Their friend Jake Hoffman joined them on banjo and they wrapped their high energy set with “Stay All Night.” Tyler, Seth, Jed, and Bear—thanks so much! I’m excited to see you guys again!

During the break between acts I introduced myself to Don from Darlingside and chatted about our mutual friend Ben and Don’s plans to move to Portland in the near future (pending criminal check by his landlord, apparently). I’m excited that two of the five guys will be in Portland, because I am already really looking forward to seeing them often.

I took very few notes during Darlingside’s set, and that’s because I was completely mesmerized. They call themselves a “string-rock quintet,” and I wouldn’t be surprised if they had been in an a cappella group together at Williams College. Their harmonies were flawless and beautiful. The fullness of sound they were able to achieve with five voices and guitars, violin, cello, drums, and mandolin was surprising and breathtaking. I was sold from the first moments of their first song.

Auyon Mukharji, David Senft, Harris Paseltiner, Sam Kapala, and Don Mitchell are all individually accomplished and impressively talented musicians. You can read about their backgrounds on their Facebook page or on their website. They say about themselves, and I completely, totally agree—“together, the five close friends are a powerhouse of vocal, instrumental, songwriting and performing talent.” I was blown away.

I didn’t just like their sound and stage presence (they were chatty and all smiles), though—I also liked their lyrics. They played “The Catbird Seat” early on, and I loved the lines “And all the things I ever owned/Were in boxes I borrowed.” I liked “The Woods” and “Malea,” too. “The Catbird Seat” and “Malea” are from Darlingside’s EP 1, released in 2010. Their newest album, Pilot Machines, came out in July of 2012. Darlingside calls the album “an insistently melodic collection of new songs that feel both familiar and ground-breaking.” I have to agree. Auyon, who plays violin, gave me a copy for my long ride home from One Longfellow. I haven’t taken it out of the CD player in my car yet, and spend about an hour listening to it during my daily commute.

There was an instant camaraderie between Tricky Britches and Darlingside. They have the exact same GMC tour van. TB’s is called Van Buren and Darlingside’s is Chauncey. They seemed like a good fit musically, too, and will play together again at Club Passim in Cambridge, MA on November 13. Boston friends, I highly recommend you get out to this show!

I was surprised to learn that Darlingside has only been together for three years—two of which they spent living together in Northampton, MA. They wrote “The Company We Keep” about living together and living the dream—“the smelly, smelly dream.” I loved their cover of The Smashing Pumpkin’s “1979.” I was amused to learn that the working title of the first song they ever wrote was “Turtle Sock Tree.” I think they were wise to change the title to “In The Morning.” They closed their impressive set with one of my favorites, “Blow the House Down.” It didn’t matter to me that it was a school night and I was an hour from home—I would have been content to stay much longer. What a fantastic musical find. I am already looking forward to seeing them again—and often!

I got to talk to almost everyone in both bands after the show. I usually don’t like chatting with people in bands because I get very sad if I love their music and they turn out to be unfriendly (I have a list, but I’ll keep it to myself). I didn’t worry with either band. Their ease and grace on stage were evident. Everyone was incredibly nice and responsive to my probably overbearing praise that I surely gave because I was so caught off guard and impressed by both bands. I hope you’ll check them both out and keep them on your radar so you can take in a live show!

Like I said earlier, Auyon kindly sent me home with their newest album, Pilot Machines. I love it. I’ve been thinking for two weeks now about what songs are my favorites. I really like the whole thing, but I’m most drawn to “Blow the House Down,” “Terrible Things,” “The Ancestor,” and “Sweet and Low.” “Sweet and Low” features vocals by the fabulous Caitlin Canty, who I was fortunate to see with Jeffrey Foucault at One Longfellow Square months ago.

Check out their music, but don’t miss the fabulous, creative videos made by Crazy Lake Pictures for “Terrible Things” and “The Ancestor.” I love “Terrible Things” even more because of how incredibly creative and intriguing the video for it is!

Thanks, Darlingside, for the invite! I’m looking forward to seeing you again really soon!

xo,

bree

Saturday, September 22, 2012

Chocolate Church, Bath, Maine

I’m a pretty big Ellis Paul fan. For nearly a decade, I’ve spent New Year’s Eve with him at his annual shows at Club Passim in Cambridge, Massachusetts. I last saw Ellis on January 1, 2012 at One Longfellow Square in Portland—always a great way to begin a new year, and I gushed about him a bit in that post. This was my 38^th Ellis show. I love Ellis’ narrative songs that tell stories about characters that listeners can relate to, from young lovers to music legends like Johnny Cash to historical figures like Chief Joseph.

I met my friend and fellow Ellis mega-fan Michelle outside of the Chocolate Church in Bath about fifteen minutes before the show started. I told her about the last time I’d seen him there—it was early January of 2004, and the pipes at the venue had frozen. The show went on, and we were really cold. I never took off my winter gear. During the intermission, I even went out to my car to get my emergency snowstorm blanket. Friends and I were sitting in the front row (you’re shocked, I know), and Ellis joked with me about it during his set.

As we took our second row center seats, Michelle and I wondered who would be opening for Ellis. I heard someone strumming a guitar backstage and said, “that sounds like Ellis.” Out he came! I always struggle with Ellis’ opening acts—I’d almost always rather skip them (sorry!) to get to the main event. He opened with a song I’d never heard before (impressive!) called “Chasing Beauty” and told us that he’s about to start another fan-funded recording project and that song would be on the new album. He reminisced about the last time he’d played at the Chocolate Church—the show I had been talking to Michelle about. He joked that it was the coldest show he ever played and it was like an Eskimo convention. He said it was nice to hear clapping at this show since we weren’t still wearing our mittens.

He played “Rose Tattoo” next and told us the sweet story of his beloved guitar Guinness that he played during our show. One of the things I love about Ellis’ stories is that those of us who see him often hear them again and again—there’s a stability I like in that. Here’s the story in a nutshell (I copied some of this from my last Ellis post). Ellis had played a beautiful parlor sized guitar at a particular venue over three years of gigs there (“it was like we were dating”), but decided it would be crazy to buy it because it cost $7,000. Later, when he decided to go for it, Neil Young had just bought the guitar he loved for his wife. Fast-forward to another fabulous and expensive guitar ($9,000) in El Reno, Oklahoma that Ellis played during his shows there. When the owner told him Neil Young was coming in soon, Ellis pulled out his credit card and bought the guitar (which he was sold for a nice discount). He named the guitar Guinness because it has light wood and dark wood pressed together. He told us that the first song he ever played on Guinness is on YouTube. I think this must be it.

“Maria’s Beautiful Mess,” the only song that I think Ellis plays at every show and is a crowd favorite, was next. (I picked that video from the Kennebunk Coffeehouse because I’m in it. I’m in the front row in the hooded sweatshirt.) Then he told us about being approached by Barbara Orbison, Roy Orbison’s wife, who had asked musicians to record Roy’s songs to celebrate his 75^th birthday. Ellis talked about how Roy was able to make singing in the upper register seem effortless and joked that this “wouldn’t be pretty.” He asked if anyone had a pair of sunglasses handy (we didn’t) so he could conceal his bulging eyes. All the theatrics for nothing—his rendition of “Crying” was lovely.

Ellis told us his next song paid tribute to the great Johnny Cash, who quite famously kicked out the stage lights at the Grand Ole Opry. “Kick Out the Lights” is probably Michelle’s favorite EP song, and it requires audience participation. This is when I started to take inventory of my surroundings. I’ve seen Ellis 38 times and he is always great. What makes an Ellis show magical, then, tends to be the energy of the crowd. This crowd fell flat, either because they were new to Ellis or because they were painfully shy. Neither is a good excuse in my book, but it does happen from time to time. He could tell this, too, and encouraged us, saying that we should aim for volume not quality. We got through it, and Ellis definitely made eye contact with me to cue the audience participation parts because I’m sure he could tell I had his back. And I’m loud.

EP told us how his frequent tour mate, the talented Radoslav Lorkovic, accidentally bumped into a speaker that fell onto Guinness the guitar and left a big hole in it. He was planning on sending it back to the maker, but they wanted thousands of dollars for the repair, so he took it to a luthier in a trailer in central Virginia who glued one splinter on at a time, waited a week for it to dry, and continued for six months until Guinness was whole again. Guinness apparently has heard about Guinness the guitar, because they sent EP some merchandise and some beer. I think you know you’ve made it when that happens, right? By the way, this blog post is brought to you by Tiffany & Co., Land Rover, Kayak.com, and Royal Caribbean! Is it working?

Ellis switched to piano for “Hurricane Angel,” a song that pays tribute to the resilience of New Orleans—including the line “You can drown New Orleans but you can’t drown the blues.” After Hurricane Katrina, I remember that EP offered that song online for donations for relief efforts on the Gulf Coast. He asked us to sing along again because there’s a Bee Gees moment in “Dragonfly” that’s hard for him to hit. He joked afterwards that he could hear his sister singing. I don’t think I’ve mentioned in this post that Ellis is from northern Maine and his family was at this show since he’s been living in Virginia (and sadly playing less frequently in Maine) for a few years or so.

One of my former students, Jane, visited Homer, Alaska this summer. I’ve been meaning to ask her if she visited Alice’s Champagne Palace, the title of EP’s next song. He’s playing there again in November and the song is about how Alaska is home to a lot of people trying to get away from things, but still find a home at the local bar. He joked (?) that Homer has a bumper sticker “A Drinking Village with a Fishing Problem.” Ellis kept with the theme and played another song I hadn’t heard called “Wasted.” Before the intermission, EP played a lovely song, “Mary, Mary” off of his upcoming Christmas album. I really like Ellis’ family album, The Hero in You, because it’s educational and intelligent without being music only kids can appreciate. I can tell his Christmas album will have similar wide appeal. I love the lyrics of “Mary, Mary,” especially “born to a mad world/weren’t you once a young girl.” It’s so good.

We took a short intermission and EP came back and opened his second set with “Snow in Austin.” My favorite song from The Hero in You, “Chief Joseph,” was up next and we got to sing Chief Joseph’s famous line “from where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever” together. Ellis has obviously gotten used to singing that song mostly at family shows, because he made us do the hand motions he teaches the youngsters to do at them. I was sitting too close to him to get away with ignoring his directions! At least we all looked ridiculous together.

Ellis switched to piano for one of my favorites, “Once Upon A Summertime.” He told us the story of his high school sweetheart who became his first wife and how they watched the fireworks on the Fourth of July from her roof when they were students at Presque Isle High School. I absolutely love the lines “the sky turned to flame/I carved our names/Beneath the magnolia/I told you my heart wouldn’t change.” I think it captures the essence of young love beautifully. Ellis will be traveling north to Presque Isle in January to be inducted into the athletic hall of fame at his high school. He was a track star in high school and at Boston College, and I read that he started writing music when he had to sit out a season of running because of an injury. I hope he’s not upset that I’m glad it happened if it started him on this path!

We were such a quiet audience, which was maybe the reason why Ellis asked if anyone had any questions for him. I think a few people did, although I’ve forgotten them now, and he obliged with serious answers. “3,000 Miles” was next, followed by “Home” on piano—a sweet love song. The lines “home sits across the table/Home is dreaming in my sheets/Home, home, home, home/This house is just an address/You’re my home” would be enough to arrest my heart if it were sung for me. He says that “Home” was written as a farewell to a beautiful house in Edgecomb, Maine built in 1776 that he and his wife lived in and loved until they were about to have a baby and decided to move to Virginia to be closer to her family. It’s an amazing song and I think surely a favorite for many EP fans.

Ellis started to wind down for the evening and played “Take All The Sky You Need” and then came down into the audience, unplugged, and belted out “Annalee” to close the show. Ellis often wraps up his show in the audience, and I think it’s a great way for him to showcase the power of his vocals. He sounded great, as always. Even though we’d been a quiet audience, we were a grateful one, and EP played one more song for us. He wrapped the night with a great Johnny Cash song on piano, “The Night Hank Williams Came To Town.” As always, Ellis was great. I’m looking forward to seeing him a 39^th time in December at One Longfellow Square. The crowd there tends to be significantly rowdier, which I think makes for a fantastic show.

Thanks, Ellis!

xo,

bree

Friday, September 21, 2012

Harlow Gallery, Hallowell, Maine

I finally got around to posting some pictures from spring and summer on Facebook about a month ago. In that album was a photo I took of my dear friend and mentor, Maryli Tiemann, at her poetry reading back in May. It was by far the most popular photo in my album, getting “likes” and comments from her former students, colleagues, and friends from all over the globe. Maryli taught English, speech, and drama at Morse High School in Bath, Maine for 27 years. I had the very good fortune of having her as my student teaching supervisor at Bowdoin College in the spring of 2001. When asked to identify a teacher who has had a lasting positive impact on their lives, I know a lot of us think immediately of Maryli (and many of her husband, David, too!) Many people commented that they’d like to know about the next time she was reading her poetry, so she obliged and told us (humbly) that she was slated to read again in a few more weeks. At her reading in May, which I thoroughly enjoyed, I was forced to reconsider my preconceptions about poetry. I had always thought that I didn’t really like poetry, but I really liked Maryli’s. When I thought more about it, I realize that poetry and song lyrics (which are crucial to me) are really the same thing. I decided to give poetry it’s just due and post about her September reading on my blog.

There was a full house at the lovely Harlow Gallery in Hallowell (conveniently close to my house), where poets Ted and Ruth Bookey organize monthly readings. I chatted with David and Maryli and mingled with their friends until we took our seats and heard from Jim Breslin. I loved his brief, rhyming poems. I was surprised by how much he could say in so few sentences. He told us about the Maine Poets Society and joked that he is much more able to take criticism on his writing because he’s been married for 46 years. He considers himself a dark poet and really started writing to cope with the unexpected death of his son. It seems that’s been a long and unending journey for Jim, and I was moved by a poem that seemed to be about home life since his son’s death. It included a phrase that stopped me cold—“You sit here beside me/We each sit alone.” His poems were decidedly heavy and evocative. I thought it was brave that he shared them with us, frankly.

Linda Alrich was up next and she impressed me right away with her effervescence. She read an amazing poem, “The Woman Without Arms” that was both poignant and hilarious. I had hoped I’d be able to find it online to post for you, but had no luck. I remember it being about a woman who was always doing her duty and sacrificing herself for others until she had literally nothing left to give. I won’t give away the ending, but it resonated. That fantastic poem from 2000 earned Linda an Emily Dickinson Award from Universities West Press. She has published Foothold and March and Mad Women, which I suspect are both full of gems.

She read “My Composition Class Meets in the Psychology Lab” and told us it was about how she received the news of her mother’s brain tumor and immediately had to go teach a class. She said any teacher knows that no matter what is going on in our lives, the show must go on. She is so right, even if our students are polite enough to pretend they don’t notice something is wrong from time to time.

I loved “Penmanship” and “Derivatives of Common Endings,” which I was able to find online to share. Linda said she’d found a shorthand dictionary in a shop and it had belonged to a woman more than a half century ago. She passed the book around like show and tell, too. I loved the touch. Here it is: 

Derivatives of Common Endings

for Ellen, 1939

 

Shorthand is not choreography

of an immobile heart,

not the lying lines you write to your mother.

Shorthand is better

than where you came from:

than shortbread

and a back yard,

than the sticky path of snails
or the way growing garlic unwinds

its heron neck
to look straight up without eyes.

 

Shorthand is better

than your proverbial head

above water, treading, dreading

lack of land,

the spiral down to where your name lies curled

under the porch like a bad dog,

lies curled on his shoulder

like a blonde hair.

 

Shorthand is a knot

untying itself, the balloon string

as it leaves the birthday party, clothespins

dropped into milk bottles, tight braids.

 

Shorthand is 
a silkworm’s spin, a line tossed forward,

a dangled direction
into which you find yourself running.

It is about going somewhere:

the way a grape tendril looks

for the loose stone
or the way waves nudge seaweed up

along the edges of continents,

the beaches lined with script too large

to be seen from land

 

though you know what it says.

 

Linda revealed very personal autobiographical information both in her introductions and in her poems. I’ll leave the details to her, but she told us about her challenging childhood and how she’d never been on a date before she studied abroad in France in college. I loved how dear her poems were and how they were so personal. Towards the end of her time she read a poem about birds, and I especially liked the line, “I believe the geese are pointing to something.” We took a break after Linda’s reading, and I was able to tell her how much I’d loved her work. She said she was glad I’d been sitting so close because I was really expressive during the reading and gave her good energy.

After our brief intermission complete with cookies and apple cider, we reconvened and Maryli took center stage. She started with what she called her “seasonal” poems and read one about spring. I loved and totally “got” “Hanging Out” about a gaggle of middle schoolers. I enjoyed her “rural” poems that praised “the wisdom and perception of rural life.” It might help to know that Maryli grew up in Flint, Michigan—a grandchild of very poor farmers.  Maryli told us that a lot of her poems are what she calls “magic” poems because she finds herself in awe of ordinary things all the time. As a friend of Maryli’s, I can assure you that’s a fact. It’s one of my favorite things about her, actually. “Fifteen Minutes” falls under the “magic” poem category. Here it is:

Fifteen Minutes

It’s my fault.

We’re late and though I can let it be and be with it,

She’s stiff and silent, tapping the purse on her lap.

Driving brings us past a garden brimming with iris.

I slow way down, almost to a stop –

So we can soak in a row after row of

Purples, whites, blues, yellows and rusts of June.

“Aren’t they something?” I exhale. She turns and

Hundreds of petals soften her steely gaze,

Coaxing her hands to rest. “They are lovely. Lovely.”

Easing past this garden, our gaze is drawn to a

Large lawn ornament across the road: Doe looking –

No, eating leaves off a low hanging tree branch.

Wait. No ornament reaches up!

The doe pauses, like us, eyes surprised.

Time rests – three souls engaged by

What would not have happened

IF

We’d been on time.

I also LOVED “Burning Irony.” Here it is:

Burning Irony

 

Ever notice that it’s easier to:

 

Smell a burning pot from another room

Know a guy’s “no good” if he’s dating your friend

Save leftovers in the fridge till they get moldy

 

Stop eating ice cream if you’re not holding the container

Detect bad breath when someone kisses you

 

Yep, it’s easier to:

Be obsessed by your own pimple

Remember your own birthday

Sleep with your own pillow

Select a present YOU would love

 

Wash a new car

Float in salt water

Drip mustard on a white shirt

Forget where you put your keys, glasses or wallet

But remember were you parked someone else’s car

 

Cut wet hair but not wet grass

Cook eggs, boil water and melt cheese

While we burn toast, cookies and “bridges” behind us

It’s definitely easier to hold grudges than rambunctious toddlers

 

To breathe when you’re walking

To yawn if you’re listening

To laugh. . . if you’re not alone

Maryli talked about being from Michigan, which she left when she was 21 years old. The rest of her remaining family still lives there. It’s hard to go home—especially when you move to and become immersed in another culture even if that’s just in another part of the country. She shared her poem “Selkie,” which comes from Irish folklore. Selkies are seals that shed their skins and turn into women a few times a year. The legend says that if you can capture her skin she can’t return to her natural state or to her home in the sea. I loved her poem “Photographs” about the overflowing leather box of family photographs that she got from her brother after her parents died. She joked that her “folks had a throw out disorder like you read about.” As Maryli doesn’t waste anything, I can only imagine what her parents were like. The poem was touching but also made me laugh.

Ted and Ruth asked all three poets to do a Q and A after Maryli’s reading. I found the conversation that followed—a dialogue between also riveted audience members and the panel of poets—enlightening. Jim joked that “Emily Dickinson is kind of light” compared to his poems and admitted that the grief that many of his poems are about is never manageable. Linda went into thorough detail about her home life growing up and the challenge of making decisions about what to publish about her family and what to keep private. Maryli summed up the evening in many ways, getting to the heart of what poetry does for many writers when she said, “sometimes I don’t know what I think until I see what I’ve written.”

What a lovely night. I feel grateful for the gift of honest, lovely, humorous, and heartbreaking words and stories that were offered to us that evening.

xo,

bree

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Berklee Performance Arts Center, Boston

Here’s the conclusion of this post for those of you who can’t handle reading much more:

If you don’t know Glen Hansard’s music, you are missing out. If you know Glen’s music but haven’t seen him live, you’re missing out even more. I can’t wait until the next show. This was definitely one of the highlights of my whole year of concerts. I came across this video of Glen’s full set at Breminale in Germany a couple of months ago. He played a very similar set list there and watching this would give you a good sense of the show I saw.

Now here’s the beginning:

I am by nature not a spontaneous person. I’d looked into getting a ticket to see Glen Hansard at Berklee soon after they went on sale, but there was nothing available particularly close to the stage. As you know, proximity matters a lot to me, so I decided I’d rather skip the show altogether than sit far away. Glen is easily one of my top favorite singer-songwriters. The best show I’ve ever seen was on April 19, 2004 at the State Theatre in Portland, Maine. Even though I’ve seen hundreds and hundreds of shows, I never hesitate for a moment whenever people ask me which one was my favorite. Glen and The Frames, his band from Ireland that’s been together for over two decades, opened for fellow Irishman, Damien Rice. It was a magic evening of heart wrenching, powerful music—and I was front and center, literally leaning up against the stage (not even a barricade). I was so moved that I couldn’t even speak for a while after the show ended. It was a night I really didn’t want to end.

Oh. Glen Hansard is often someone that people don’t know by name. Glen acted in The Commitments back in 1991. He’s played with The Frames since about the same time. Ultimately, everyone knows his incredibly beautiful hit song “Falling Slowly” from the lovely film, Once. That song has been performed on every singing and dancing reality show on television since the film came out in 2006. You’ve heard it. Trust me.

My concert friend Bob sees way more shows than I do, but he works with dead people (really) while I need to stay chipper and alert to teach our future. We met at an Iron & Wine show (Marketa Irglova from Once and The Swell Season was singing with them on that tour, actually) and he gave me a ticket to join him for a sold out Adele show in Boston with the Civil Wars. We’ve been friends in music for about two years now. I met Chris of www.bostonthroughmyeyes.com at Newport Folk Festival because of his lovely partner, Rebecca. It turns out that the world really is microscopic, because Bob met Chris and Rebecca the night before I did. Now we all see music together. I have a growing list of friends that I met at concerts who I actually keep in touch with. I like how much music can bring people together. Anyhow, Bob texted me on Monday night that tickets in the first three rows had just been released for Glen’s show. He and Chris had met Caroline a few nights before at the Bon Iver show, so I texted her to see if she wanted to go, too. It turns out that we were able to get seats right next to them in the center of the third row. I can’t think of many artists that I’d motivate like that and drive an extra 5-6 hours on a school night to see at the drop of the hat. Glen Hansard, however, is definitely one of them. I felt that it was cosmically the right thing to do and it turned out to be an amazing night.

Caroline and I met at school and drove down to Boston in the rain. It let up when we approached Boston. We parked at the Dalton Street garage and went in search of the burrito place that I remembered was right across the street from Berklee. At least that’s where it used to be. I texted my friend Rebecca to ask her where it was and got her prompt reply too late—turns out that boloco had moved barely around the corner, but by then we were in too much of a hurry to get to the show and had decided on something else. Bob texted me and brought his friend Emily to meet us at the window we were sitting at. We joined them outside and met Chris and found our seats in the third row. If you’ve ever been to Berklee’s Performing Arts Center, you know how long the walk from the back to the stage is, so being that close up is really special.

The Lost Brothers opened the show. They wore adorable crinkled suits and both played acoustic guitar. I love how humbled they were by the experience—they said they were used to playing at bars in Ireland with sawdust on the floor. One of them said that their “mum” wasn’t going to believe the pictures from the night because the venue was so impressive. It was such a sweet moment for them, and I was glad to see them. Their third album, The Passing of the Night, is out now and I enjoyed their finger picking and harmonies. They covered Ricky Nelson’s “Lonesome Town,” which they dedicated to Glen and the band and the crew. Their last song—“Under the Turquoise Sky”—was lovely.

Glen took the stage and sat down at the piano to play “The Storm, It’s Coming” off of his newest album, Rhythm and Repose. Quite a large band surrounded him, actually—I think there were up to a dozen musicians on stage at times. A great string section enriched the song. There was even a horn section! He played “Love Don’t Leave Me Waiting”—definitely one of my favorites from Rhythm and Repose, and played a bit of “Respect” towards the end. “Philander” was incredible. The fullness of the sound was so impressive. And what Glen Hansard admirer sitting that close (oh, I forgot to mention the married woman sitting in front of me who I negotiated with about which one of us should be able to marry him) wouldn’t love to hear him sing the lyric in that song, “And I’m always gonna love you/I’m always gonna stay” even if the song title means that’s really unlikely?

They immediately moved into my favorite song from the Once soundtrack—“When Your Mind’s Made Up.” Oh my—it’s so good. Glen and the band really played hard on the song and one of Glen’s strings broke. He finished the song with the five strings he had left. He told us that “Low Rising” was about optimism and how if it stops “jingling jangling around in the bottom of your heart you’re f*ck#d.” “Low Rising” is definitely one of my favorite songs off of Strict Joy, which is Glen’s project, The Swell Season, with Marketa Irglova from Once. “Bird of Sorrow” was next and it is sad and beautiful. I like the lyrics “Well you been kneeling in the dark for far too long/You’ve been waiting for that spark but it hasn’t come/I’m calling to you please get off the floor/A good heart will find you again.” I know this shouldn’t surprise me anymore since I’ve seen Glen a few times now, but he plays with awe inspiring, tremendous power and intensity. There’s a sincerity and autobiography that runs through his music that makes me feel like I “get” him not only as a musician, but also as a person.

The band left the stage and Glen played “Leave” solo. Woah. The lyrics are heart piercing—“And I hope you feel better/Now that it’s out/What took you so long/And the truth has a habit/Of falling out of your mouth/But now that it’s come/If you don’t mind/Leave, leave.” Glen asked us to sing with him on “Back Broke. Chris was able to take a video of it over on bostonthroughmyeyes.com. (Here are his pictures from the night, too.) I can hear myself laughing and singing on it. You can hear Glen telling us to imagine that we are beautiful waify Russian angels leaning over the edge of a boat in icy waters and we’re warning people about icebergs. He said the song’s about being smashed and broken but having the one you love next to you. It was beautiful.

He did an amazing cover of Van Morrison’s “Astral Weeks” using a pedal for percussion. I wrote “Holy S%#T” (well, not quite that) and “INSANE” in my notes during that song. He tried to start “Moving On,” but couldn’t remember the first line. Someone in the audience shouted it out for him. He gave us a one-minute audience stretch break after that. I’ve never had that happen before, but it felt good. I love the lyrics to “This Gift” and “Races,” which were the next two songs. Justin (the birthday boy) played the secondhand accordion he’d bought the day before and it sounded great. They wrapped their set with a very powerful “Fitzcarraldo.” Even though I knew they’d be back for an encore, my heart sunk a little bit when they left the stage.

I’d had to go to the bathroom for over an hour, so I decided to seize the moment of everyone giving Glen and the band a standing ovation to essentially jog there so I wouldn’t miss any of the encore. I’m telling you this because it meant that I ended up sitting even closer to the stage when I returned. There were two seats on the aisle in the second row that no one ever filled, and since it would have been challenging to get back to my assigned seat, I just sat there when I returned. Colm Mac Con Iomaire from The Frames (who were all in the band) had just wrapped up a beautiful violin piece when I took my new seat. I was stunned and so excited when Glen joined him on stage, unplugged, and they walked to the very edge of the stage just feet from me.

Glen and Colm played “Say It To Me Now” and “Gold” unplugged from the edge of the stage. I learned that “Gold” isn’t about a woman—it’s about the earth. Listen again with that in mind and it changes things. Apparently they had just started their US tour and Glen found a receipt with Ziggy Marley’s name on it in his bunk showing that Ziggy and his band were the previous bus tenants. It clearly inspired their cover of “Get Up, Stand Up.” They did a Marvin Gaye cover of “Don’t Do It” that rocked and featured a very talented horn section that Glen told us had been part of Levon Helm’s band.

I thought that was going to be their last song, but Glen said he’d been asked by a worthy person to sing “Falling Slowly.” About a minute into the song, just before the chorus, he leaned down to a young woman sitting in the front row and asked her to join him. A couple of people got it on video and you can hear the audience gasp with surprise. In fact, on the second video, I can hear myself say, “shut up!” when he invites her up. Within seconds of him asking her to join him on stage, I was holding back tears. I think I was initially jealous, because that would be an epic life experience to have, but it was also such a beautiful moment to witness. Added to that, the idea that one of my musical idols who I love and respect so much would invite a random audience member to share a song with him moved me. I got to talk to her (her name is Samantha) after the show and she told me it was completely unplanned. She was still shaking.

If you don’t know Glen Hansard’s music, you are missing out. If you know Glen’s music but haven’t seen him live, you’re missing out even more. I can’t wait until the next show. This was definitely one of the highlights of my whole year of concerts.

xo,

bree

Bon Iver with Anais Mitchell

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Bank of America Pavilion, Boston

Caroline and I both had single tickets for Bon Iver’s Boston show and decided to carpool. She’s a busy high school senior but eventually made time to write the thorough post below about our magical evening with Justin Vernon. What sticks out to me is the search for the elusive Channel Café (Google walking maps apparently can’t tell you that you need to go up a stairwell to get to a street above), catching up with Bob, Shea, and Chris, and singing “what might have been lost” all together during The Wolves (Acts I and II). Justin said he was glad we were there because it was the last time they’d be touring for a very long time. I hope he was kidding.

xo,

bree

My first guest blogger! Here’s Caroline’s post with just slight editing:

I would like to acknowledge what an honor it is to be the first guest writer on Bree’s blog. Bree and I are alike in that we both occupy the same building three quarters of the year. I’m a high school senior, and she’s a hard-working teacher. We both have an intense passion for live music and have similar musical taste. Bon Iver has been one of my favorite artists for multiple years now. When I heard his song “Skinny Love” on my Pandora radio station my freshman year of high school, I immediately researched him. All of the music I love brings out various emotions. I think how I interpret music depends on the season and my mood. Bon Iver’s music has acted as a type of therapy. The soothing voices and melodies and genuine lyrics have brought me comfort during rough patches. In my eyes, Justin Vernon is nothing less than a deity.

When tickets were released in early July for his Boston show, I quickly made my purchase as I knew it would be a must see show. Quickly after, I became aware that Bree had purchased her ticket right before me. My only concern during those summer months was figuring out how I would actually be able to physically get to the venue. As time passed, since Bree and I both knew we had single tickets to the show, it made sense that we might as well carpool together to the show. Huzzah! Just like that, I had arranged my transportation—and boy was I in for a treat!

Safely arriving in Boston, the first obstacle we faced was finding a place to park. We settled on a $10 parking lot near the venue. Food was next on our to-do list with the extra time we had to spare. iPhones are truly a blessing to the 21st century. If Bree and I didn’t have her handy-dandy Urban Spoon app on her phone, we would most likely have looked like little kids in a corn maze. Channel Café—it looked easy, quick, and appetizing! Bree and I quickly agreed this was the place we should sit down and have a leisurely bite to eat before the show. Evidently, Google walking maps were not up to Boston “street code.” Walking past numerous streets, we finally realized a special stairwell that brought us up to a WHOLE other level of Boston. I was amazed at the design of the city, coming from the small town of Topsham, Maine. Weary from being steered in the wrong direction so many times, Channel Café seemingly became more and more delightful as we came closer to our destination. Not for long! Too bad the café closed at four o’clock. Back down the stairs we went.

Bree and I decided to make our way back towards the venue because show time was nearing. To our amazement, a hopping sandwich shop, J. Pace & son, was literally 500 feet from the Bank of America Pavilion—all that walkin’ for nothin’! Bree and I split a mozzarella, tomato, and basil sandwich as we met up with one of her other concert buddies, Bob. This was the first time I had been introduced to Bob, but now I’m glad I have had the opportunity to meet such a wonderful guy. Boy, is he a riot!

Showtime! The ticket I purchased online and printed out at home let me into the concert venue in no time. I quickly found my seat, which was dead center in the middle of the venue. Anaïs Mitchell was opening for Bon Iver, and was a little bit into her set list when I located my seat. A little history about the gal—she is from Vermont, grew up on a small farm, and went to Middlebury. Her music does resemble her life a bit as she declares her self a folk singer, but there is also a little country tone to her voice. She made me laugh with her stories of once being a poor college student. To me, it is almost cliché that so many artists share at least one thing about their first experiences starting their music career, or even their first struggles as becoming a young adult in the real world.  Whatever she did, it worked. Anaïs was sweet with her charm.

Since I came in late to her set, it took a little time for me to gather myself and collect my thoughts after being hyped up for this show for so long. I focused on her voice and instruments because it was hard for me to understand some of her lyrics to her songs. I would say Anaïs is a folk artist—no doubt about it—but she had something different to her. Like I mentioned earlier, she had a little bit of country in her voice and the way she structured the instruments in her songs were a little country, too. Her music was quite mellow, but it was not like Justin’s style of music. I think the two bands complemented each other very well.

I specifically listened to Anaïs’s lyrics in the last song that she played. With more determination to focus on it, her music was easy to relate to. She sang, “Why do we build the wall?/Build the wall to keep us free/We build the wall to keep us free.”To me, these simple lines gave me new insight by better interpreting others’ actions, and society around us. We build a wall with us on one side, and everyone else on the other—almost to act like a comfort zone, so that others can’t bother us. In that state, we feel as if we are free in our own little world. Yet, we often do not realize we are not just part of our own little world, but that we are part of something much greater. Without our comfort zones, we have a greater perspective to help others and understand conflicts better. In that, we shortly notice where true freedom comes from. “Why We Build the Wall” is from her “folk opera” album, Hadestown, which tells a story of Orpheus and Eurydice.

The crowd roared when Justin Vernon and his band took the stage. It might be an understatement to say that people were more than ready to hear some of his songs. All emotions of excitement and joy filled my mind and soul. Justin opened with “Perth” which is on his second album, Bon Iver, Bon Iver. Immediately, a spectacular light show took place. I felt as if the lights were part of the music itself, not just an extra piece to captivate the audience. The loud drums filled my body with vibrations as the mystical sounds Bon Iver created kept me in awe. Even though I was not as close to the band as Bree was (she was in the third row), I will admit I found myself pinching my skin to see if I really was there experiencing this great moment.

Justin sang some of my absolute favorites—“Holocene” and “Blood Bank.” The thing I enjoyed so much about Justin while he played his music live is that he made the whole audience feel as if they were the only one in the audience listening to him. When I watched the band play, the lights, sounds, instruments, and voices all kept me mesmerized. The set up was really cool—there was a cloth backdrop that reflected images and light effects. This brought even more character to Justin’s songs as he played because it guided me as a listener to feel a certain way. During “Towers” there were images that showed spring and new beginnings. “Towers” is a light-hearted, cheerful song. I enjoyed how Justin connected the images with the music.

As much as I would like to think of Justin as an absolute God with nothing but wisdom and grace—he is really a funny guy! Quite frankly, he has a very goofy side! During a short break between songs, he advertised his t-shirts for sale. I don’t know if Justin was just being very genuine (because everything about him makes me think he is) or he has really good marketing skills, but he told the venue full of people that his variety of band t-shirts proved they were “expansionist capitalists” and he said it embarrassed him. Everyone got a kick out of it—making the level of love for Justin raise a few notches on the scale.

Justin said that “Skinny Love” was about sweet love being destroyed. In an interview before Bon Iver was created, Justin mentions how his first album was recorded in his dad’s hunting cabin in northern Wisconsin where he escaped to be alone from previous bands and an old girlfriend (who apparently broke his heart). The album For Emma, Forever Ago includes the hit “Skinny Love.” When Justin explained the meaning behind the song during the concert, I instantly connected what he said in the interview.

Justin emphasized that that this would be their last tour for a while. He played a few more songs (“re: Stacks” and “Calgary” among others) and then said his goodbyes to the audience. He again said that he was really glad we’d been able to come out for the show because it was the last time he’d be on tour for the foreseeable future. (Let’s hope that was an exaggeration! No, really—please don’t let that be true!)

Justin and the band came out for a much-requested encore. It was a bittersweet moment when he asked us to sing along during “The Wolves (Act I and II)” because I didn’t want the night to end. Our part was the line “what might have been lost,” which he said he wanted us to belt out. “The Wolves (Act I and II)” is such a powerful song. Whenever I hear Justin’s voice on that song, he has a cold, blunt attitude and his lyrics send chills up and down my spine. They wrapped with “For Emma” and said goodbye for good. Their performance that night was incredible! And singing that song, all together, was an amazing moment.

The crowd would not stop cheering for Bon Iver. All of us wanted more. The experience that Justin personally gave to me as an audience member was incredible. After the show, Bree and I met up with Bob and their sweet friend Chris from bostonthroughmyeyes.com. Here are his beautiful pictures and videos from the evening.

It took me weeks after the show to finally process my thoughts and feelings about that evening. It was a magical night complete with tasty food, great friends, magnificent music, and a lively city. Let’s hope Justin was joking (although I fear he wasn’t) about not touring again for a long while!

Be well,

Caroline

Thursday, August 23, 2012

State Theatre, Portland, Maine

I suspect that seeing Grace Potter perform live is a lot like seeing a well-rehearsed, well-choreographed, high-end peep show. That’s my first one sentence show recap ever! And I think it hits the mark really well!

But you know me by now, so. . .

I met up with Michelle and we carpooled to Portland to meet our friends Alex and Marian for dinner at Taco Escobarr before the show. We sat outside at the high top bar and had a delicious fish taco dinner while watching Portland’s vibrant community pass before our eyes. As we were settling up our tab I noticed a woman who had been sitting across the street at White Heart’s outdoor bar crossed the street and came over to the recently abandoned seats by us to down an unfinished margarita. I was stunned and thought it was hilarious and was soon shocked when I mentioned it to my friends and no one else had noticed! We said goodbye to Alex (who hates concerts) and made it to the State Theatre in short order and were able to snag spots front and center, behind a couple of rows of people.

Based on what I’d heard about Grace Potter (which is that she’s a sexpot), I was not at all surprised to see that men lined the barricades in the front row. I’d wanted to see her at the State in December of 2010 when she last played in town, but somehow didn’t make it. I’d regretted it for nearly two years, so was really excited to see her live.

Benny Yurco and The Revealers opened. They had a mellow classic rock sound and I thought the lyrics (which I care about) were really hard to hear. Benny had a cool falsetto voice when he used it. Someone standing near us informed us that he was a guitarist in the Nocturnals. He didn’t introduce himself or say much, but did introduce each member of his band. He also told us that we were witnessing the first time these songs had ever been played live for an audience. A group of people started to crowd us and I started to get annoyed, but they told us that they were friends with the pianist in the band and his mom and dad wanted to see him up close. I suggested they tell the tall guys in the front row who they were. They did, and the guys happily made room for the mom along the railing. Mom and dad were beaming and it was very cute. I was pretty indifferent to the music, but they did do one reggae-influenced song at the end of their set that was really fun.

So I don’t think people loved the opening act and then there was a solid 45-minute wait until Vermont’s Grace Potter and the Nocturnals took the stage. We weren’t off to a super start. When I think back to the show, I barely remember the music. I remember Grace’s outfit (which I genuinely thought might have been body paint at first) and her seductive and over-the-top dance moves. I found it all very distracting, actually. I think GP’s moves were right out of a rock star handbook written by Mick Jagger. I said to Michelle and Marian that I bet she went to some kind of rock star academy and got perfect marks, but maybe we were a little too close to the stage for my liking (and I have never ever said that before). She danced as though we weren’t there—as if she were having a private, satisfying experience. There were lots of wild hand gestures, arm waving, hair whipping, and fist pumping. I wondered if she might be a textbook exhibitionist. Have I written anything about her music yet? Nope. See? It was that distracting.

Don’t get me wrong—Grace Potter can definitely sing (she’s got serious pipes, actually), but that’s not solely what her live show is about. She certainly puts on a show, though. She can impressively screech like Steven Tyler and has a raspy rock voice a la my beloved Brandi Carlile. She told us how much she loves the Northeast and whenever she sees a Maine license plate in Vermont she says, “Yeah, they’re one of us.”

She played two pretty acoustic songs. I really liked “Falling Or Flying.” “Stars” was absolutely lovely and the lyrics moving—“I lit a fire with the love you left behind/And it burned wild and crept up the mountainside/I followed your ashes into outer space/I can’t look out the window/I can’t look at this place/I can’t look at the stars/They make me wonder where you are.” I laughed out loud early in the song when stars were suddenly projected all over the room. I looked at Michelle and said, “Well that’s a really literal translation!”

She killed in on “Treat Me Right”—the girl’s got soul for sure. GP was clearly pumped when so many people already knew the words to “Runaway” off their newest album, The Lion The Beast The Beat, released in June. I loved “Tiny Light.” She played “One Heart Missing” for all the “lonely people in the world tonight,” and it includes the sad line, “If love is made for two there’s just one heart missing.”

It was a special night because it was Grace’s brother’s birthday and he was in the house. She invited two cloaked figures to the stage (it was creepy at first until they revealed that they were from the opening band) to cover “You’ve Lost that Loving Feeling” in his honor. They wrapped their set with a call and response and a reprise of “Medicine”—the whole band banged wildly on the drum set. She sent us kisses and said thanks and left the stage while the band rocked out.

Everyone left the stage and the crowd was quite sufficiently riled up and stomping for an encore. Grace and the Nocturnals came back for two more songs, “The Divide” and “Paris (Ooh La La).” “Paris” was awesomely mashed with “I Love Rock N Roll” which we gladly sang with her to end the raucous and entertaining evening. A Grace Potter show is definitely an experience (maybe not one I’d want to have again from so close up), but one definitely worth having at least once.

xo,

bree

Sunday, August 5, 2012

One Longfellow Square, Portland, Maine

I happened upon Ben Sollee in June of 2011 when I was visiting friends near Washington DC. My friend Clare knew I’d appreciate going to see a show, so she suggested we catch one at Iota in Arlington, Virginia—a teeny, intimate venue. Ben Sollee just happened to be the headliner the night we were out, and boy, what a treat it was to stumble upon him! Ben plays beautiful cello, and his songs are full of interesting syncopation and powerful lyrics. I especially appreciated his interest in and passion for the environment and the ability of the arts to build community.

Fast forward just over a year—Ben Sollee was the darling of this year’s Newport Folk Festival. He played his own set (which I skipped because I knew I’d be seeing him the following week at the very intimate One Longfellow Square), recorded in the Paste Ruins (which I got to watch), and guest starred in so many sets that I called him the “Waldo” of the NFF. He was on a “Ditch the Van” bike tour—meaning that he literally rode a bicycle with his cello following on a trailer from Kentucky all the way to Newport, Rhode Island. The NFF provided buses for concertgoers to take from the parking lots to the stages, and my bus nearly side swiped Ben on the entry road. It was kind of hard not to notice that we almost took out a guy carting a cello! Glad we missed him!

My friend Bartlett was going to join me for Ben, but he recently became a landlord and his tenant had a plumbing issue. I texted him back joking that “s%*t happens” (I thought that was very clever), and I nestled into a seat in the third row center to catch Ben up close and personal. I was pumped. I chatted with the folks around me (shocking, I know) and found out that the woman sitting beside me had run the Beach to Beacon 10K the day before with her 83 year old mom who finished first in her age group! 83?! Impressive!

Lancaster, PA native Dietrich Strause opened the show, and I thought his folky songs were quite compatible with Ben’s sound. His songs were simple and pretty and I liked his finger picking. He admitted that he felt a bit guilty about driving up from Boston (his home base) and joked that Mainers must breathe a big sigh of relief when all of those cars he saw crowding the southbound lanes on the highway leave every Sunday night. I especially liked his songs “Susquehanna” and “Annie Dear.” Here’s a video of Dietrich’s interpretation of the David and Goliath story—“Like a Rock”—that includes some very vociferous ducks. Really. His last song, “Lemonade Springs,” has a great line—“A yellowstone child just looking for a wild love/running from the life she was lost in.” He told us the song was a cautionary tale and told us the real story (I Googled it) of a billionaire in Australia who is having a replica of the Titanic built with plans to launch it on the exact day it originally set sail on. He warned us, “no matter how cheap the tickets are—don’t go.”

Dietrich will be playing Club Passim’s stage at Harvard Square’s Oktoberfest on Sunday, October 7 and at Blue in Portland on Thursday, November 15.

Ben Sollee took the stage after a short break to a full room of admirers. I barely know how to explain his interesting and captivating sound except to say it’s great. He plays cello and has a beautiful voice. His music is kind of folky with bluegrass influence. He opened with “A Few Honest Words,” which has lyrics I like—“Love is a bitter fruit/We’ve learned to eat/But we still don’t know, oh, where it grows.” He played one of my favorites of his tunes, “Something, Somewhere, Sometime” next and the crowd was clearly happy to hear it, too. Jordan Ellis joined Ben for his set and played beautiful percussion. He had to be clever and creative about what tools to use, because he was on a bicycle carrying his gear, too. He plays a mean cajon drum. They’d ridden about 60 miles that day to make it to the show, in fact. Wow. Ben talked about the “Ditch the Van” bike tour and said it forces them to slow down and take everything in and makes them more present in the communities they’re playing in. Here’s Ben talking about touring by bicycle on CNN.

I was really happy to hear “Hurting” with it’s refrain, “it’s gonna be alright.” I think that may be my favorite song on Ben’s Inclusions album. Check out Ben’s Tiny Desk Concert on NPR that opens with “Hurting” and includes “Captivity,” “The Globe,” and “Inclusions.” “How to See the Sun Rise” was a lovely gospel-infused tune that made me feel a little like I was in church rocking out with a powerful house band. Ben clearly loves Kentucky and is interested in the history of Appalachia. He introduced “Prettiest Tree on the Mountain” with a cute story about how he learned there’s such a thing as a leader tree that changes color first in fall and tells the other trees, “yo—it’s time to change. Which is what she said to me.” So, I guess the song is about a broken heart. He also said it’s the only song he’s ever not written—that it just poured out of him.

Ben played a song that laments the practice of mountaintop-removal coal mining. This issue was the catalyst for Dear Companion that Ben recorded with fellow Kentucky boy Daniel Martin Moore in 2010. The album was produced by fellow Kentuckian Jim James of My Morning Jacket. Ben and Jordan wrapped their set with “Electrified” which displays the interesting syncopated rhythms of a lot of Ben’s songs, and finished with a beautiful classical piece.

We asked for an encore and Ben and Jordan played five more songs including Paul Simon’s “The Obvious Child” and some fiddle tunes Ben learned from his grandfather Elvis Henry Cornelius. He told us that riding his bicycle reminds him of the cadence of those fiddle songs and he hears them when he rides. They tried to leave the stage after FIVE more songs, but we were so appreciative (and rowdy) that Ben and Jordan came back for one final song, “Built for This.” Ben chatted with audience members after the show and is so much an ordinary guy for being such an incredibly talented musician. If you haven’t seen him live yet, you are really missing out.

Ben’s newest album, Half-Made Man, is out as of September 25, 2012. Here’s Ben’s interview about the new album with American Songwriter.

xo,

bree

Gentlemen of the Road—Portland, Maine Stopover

Saturday, August 4, 2012

Eastern Promenade, Portland, Maine

*I wrote the majority of this post a few weeks ago on a boat anchored in the Barred Islands near Deer Isle, Maine. I found it much easier to write without distractions. The moon was big and bright in the sky and Labor Day weekend on the boat that marked the end of my summer vacation was relaxing and beautiful. I made good progress on Bill Clinton’s autobiography that weekend, too, which I essentially haven’t picked up since then. I also haven’t touched my blog in the three weeks since school started back up this year. We lost a position in my department due to budget cuts and I have double the students I had last year. Every day feels a bit like a marathon. I’ve been seeing great shows still, though, and will get to writing about them eventually. Thanks for bearing with me!*

I want to say two things before I go too far. One, I am SO impressed and grateful that Lauren Wayne, general manager of the State Theatre, was able to convince Mumford & Sons to come to Portland, Maine. She rules. This festival was obviously good for Portland and for Maine.

The second thing that I should say is that I really don’t like music festivals. I think it’s important that I reveal that early on in this post. Unlike everyone else (or so it seems), when I found out that Mumford & Sons was coming to the US this summer for just four dates to headline all-day festivals—including one in Portland, Maine—I was disappointed. I have a short list of bands I desperately want to see and M&S is on it, but I do not like music festivals. I want to see bands up close or I feel like I might as well just listen to their CD at home or in my car during my morning commute. Festivals mean multiple stages and hours and hours of waiting until you get the see the band you really came for. They are exhausting if you come early, or disappointing if you come late and can’t see the band from where you end up. I acknowledge that many people love festivals for lots of reasons that I totally support and I support those people—I’m just not one of them.

I almost passed on buying tickets to the M&S show for all of those reasons, but my friend Clare wanted to go and at the last minute I decided that I would be stupid to miss M&S just because I’d prefer not to have to wait out a whole day to get a decent spot to take in their show. I got us two early bird tickets for $59 each and was not at all surprised that they sold out so quickly.

Clare lives in Gardiner, too, so I picked her up at 10:30 Saturday morning in hopes of getting to Portland’s East End around 11:15 to try to get a parking spot. We had absolutely no trouble finding parking, and were at the gates at 11:30 for the noon gate opening. I talked to my concert buddy Monica the night before about how frustrating it was that there was no concrete information about who would play what stage at what time since many of us want to plan when to arrive and where to find a spot. That information was never available, it seems, including the day of the show and after the festival began. Festival staff manned the many entrance gates, checked IDs to give out beer tent bracelets, gave us stick-on moustaches to keep us in theme, but no one seemed to know the schedule for the day.

Clare and I saw how close together the two stages were and decided to grab a spot on the ground perched up high where we could see both stages okay, but neither up close. There were flags with band names on either of the stages that gave the impression that basically acts would be playing back and forth between the two stages, but that was just a guess (and it turned out to not be quite true). I can’t remember a time when I was so far away from a stage, but since I had a guest and didn’t know for sure who was playing where, I didn’t want to gamble grabbing an up front spot at the wrong stage and missing half the acts so as not to lose my spot up close. As someone who values proximity over all else, it was a tough choice for me.

Simone Felice of The Felice Brothers was up first. Some of the guys from M&S took the stage to warmly thank us for coming out and to introduce him. He sang a sweet song for his daughter Pearl who is two that he wrote for her on the day she was born. I liked “Don’t Wake the Scarecrow.” He told us how he grew up in the Catskill Mountains near Woodstock, New York and played a song for the late Levon Helm. He had a female singer accompany him, but her voice did not mesh well with his and she really overpowered his sound. It might have been fine if they’d adjusted the levels of the microphones, but I’m not sure.

Haim took the same stage after Simone Felice (there went my theory about alternating stages) and are three sisters from California. My friends Bartlett and Monica had joined us by then and Bartlett joked that “those girls just passed AP English.” They were obviously young—late teens to early twenties—but one of them had a very strong, mature voice for her age. One of the sisters pushed the envelope a bit—joking about vodka and inviting people to skinny dip with them later—I found her stage banter a bit distracting. One of their songs that was unlike the others reminded me of Gloria Estefan and Miami Sound Machine. Overall, the girls wanted to rock and can, even if I didn’t really connect with their music. They wrapped their set with a strongly percussive song and one of the sisters grabbed a drumstick and banged on the drum with a lot of enthusiasm. Like I’ll say a lot (or maybe I’ll just say it here and be done with it)—none (few?) of these acts had the stage presence to really engage a crowd of 15,000+ people but all might be really great in a smaller venue. It’s hard to tell and I probably won’t go out of my way to see m/any of them again given this first impression.

Reggie Watts, our quirky, inappropriate, and hilarious emcee for the day took the stage and entertained us between sets with jokes about cocaine usage and binge drinking—real family friendly material. Okay, not family friendly, but funny in places.

Nashville’s The Apache Relay was up next (the first on the main stage) and I was really excited to see them since I’d been held up in traffic and missed their set at The Newport Folk Festival the weekend before. Of all of the acts that wasn’t M&S, I’m willing to say they were my favorite—and with Dawes, they rounded out my top three acts of the day. I really liked them immediately—they were gracious and warm and the lead singer had a powerful, pleading voice. The keys and strings rounded out their sound and I would see them again (in a smaller venue) for sure.

There was a really long break while UK’s The Macabees set up on the main stage. I decided to go grab some water at the water station, but the line was insanely long. One of my biggest complaints about the day (and I know I’m not alone) is that we were not allowed re-entry and there were not nearly enough food or drink vendors to keep the lines down. Lines for each booth ran up to over an HOUR AND A HALF long. That is ridiculous. If you are going to have over 15,000 people at a festival and won’t let them leave, it’s a no-brainer to go overboard on the food carts and water stations and portable bathrooms. Lines were painfully, painfully long. People were frustrated. There are expletives in my notes of the day that I’ve edited out for the reading public.

The Macabees didn’t do much for me. I wrote two things down about them: 1. They are British. 2. They are My Morning Jacket-esque. That’s a compliment, I suppose. M&S had introduced the day by saying that the musicians we were seeing that day were some of their very favorite bands. I had already started to wonder by this point if I believed them or not and if perhaps this might have been a collection of bands put together by music label folks to spread the word about acts signed to them. That’s a conspiracy theory that’s not important enough to look into, but I’ll say that if my favorite bands played at a music festival I organized, everyone would be much more impressed with my musical taste. Sorry, M&S—I still love you a lot.

Then the darkest hour of the festival came—St. Vincent’s set. I have had the misfortune of seeing St. Vincent before, opening a few years back for Andrew Bird. I don’t think there’s a middle ground on her—people either love her or hate her. I don’t judge those people who love her, but I truly don’t get her music and find it abrasive and unlistenable. If you love her, I am happy for you and hope you won’t send me angry emails. I wrote that she is Bjork-like with a bit of “new Madonna” sprinkled in. Her music is electronic and quirky. She did “Marrow” that contains a repetitive “H.E.L.P. me” which was a little scary and I wondered how many people sitting there watching agreed with me that we all would like someone to help us by getting her off the stage. I chuckled as I looked around and saw people sitting around us visibly cringing. I pointed it out to a woman sitting near us—I told her “you look how I feel” and she laughed. We were all in this together, commiserating, just waiting for the set to end. Bartlett chimed in—“it only takes one to spoil the festival.” I have no doubt that Oklahoma native, Berklee trained St. Vincent takes herself and her craft very seriously. I think she thinks she’s keeping punk alive. She did a cover for her last song and told us a cute story about the sad end of punk and the funny dish scrubber she’d gotten from a friend called “Sid Dishes.” She certainly has musical talent and I respect that but the style of her music almost couldn’t be less compatible with what I like to listen to. I had a conversation with my concert friend Bob about St. Vincent, and he was shocked at my response to seeing his beloved St. Vincent. He works in a funeral home, so the threats got real. I think I was supposed to pick out my urn and everything. If I ever disappear suddenly…

L.A.’s Dawes was popular at Newport Folk Festival and my concert buddy Bob is a big fan. They didn’t do as much for me live as I’d expected they would (and I didn’t dare tell Bob that), but I was far away which is so not my thing. I really like their 2009 North Hills album, though, and will definitely see them someday from up close in a smaller venue. They opened with “If I Wanted Someone”—a song I really like, and did “Fire Away.” I’d call their sound Americana—compatible with Wilco and My Morning Jacket. They played one of my favorites “When My Time Comes” and dedicated it to “the newbies.” We happily sang along with them on the chorus—belting it out, really—and even did the chorus without their help a couple of times through. That’s when I started to realize how many more people had showed up for the festival. We were starting to be quite a crowd. By then my friends Marian and Alex had joined us and Chris (check out his photos from the day at BostonThroughMyEyes.com) had checked in with us a few times to chat and take a break from taking photos. Dawes did a nice rendition of “Peace In The Valley” and ended with “Time Spent In Los Angeles.” Wylie Gelber from Dawes did a cute write up of the event for The Travel Channel.

Dropkick Murphys were a late addition to the lineup and came to play a quick set before their show later that night at the State Theatre. I’d seen them live one St. Patrick’s Day years ago in Boston with my Bowdoin friend Lisa and her sisters, Sara and Maria. It was crazy. They are loud and rough and people got excited for them and ran to the stage that they started playing on and bounced for the whole set. They did “Sunshine Highway,” played a new song for us from their album that they’d just wrapped the day before, and were backed by the Parkington Sisters on “Irish Rover.” Even if the Murphys are a bit of a departure from my general musical taste, they know how to put on a lively show, which I appreciate. We needed a boost after the very mellow day of music, actually, and they did a great job. Basically the whole crowd got on their feet for their finale “I’m Shipping Up to Boston,” so we were ready to be up and dancing with Mumford & Sons.

I wrote everything up until this point three weeks ago. I was inspired to finish this post because I stayed up late to watch Mumford & Sons last night on Saturday Night Live—I probably would have been done with this post by now if I hadn’t, actually. Their musical performances—“I Will Wait” and “Below My Feet” were awesome. They also starred in a ridiculous skit where they played “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away” in the background.

Mumford & Sons can absolutely entertain a big crowd. I wish I could have been up close (duh), but I still had fun from far away, and that is a HUGE compliment. M&S played “Little Lion Man” early in the show and got everyone up on their feet and celebrating. They played a bunch of songs from their upcoming album, Babel, which is due out on Tuesday. You can preview Babel here. I loved “I Will Wait,” which was new to me but is now getting a lot of radio play now. Here’s a live version of “I Will Wait” recorded at Red Rocks so you can get a feel for the experience we had that night. Here are some photos from the night and Rolling Stone’s write up, too. Their harmonies on “White Blank Page” gave me chills. I love the powerful line in that song—“you desired my attention but denied my affections.” “Timshel,” with the refrain, “you are not alone in this,” was haunting and beautiful. The musicianship and power of “Roll Away Your Stone” was awesome.

“Lover of the Light” was new and it was very pretty. It featured a lovely fiddle part and a talented horn section. “Thistle & Weeds” was stunning thanks to Marcus Mumford’s intensity. I liked “Awake My Soul” a lot more live than I do on the album. They wrapped up their set with another new song, “Below My Feet” and closed with the wild, chaotic, and powerful, “Dust Bowl Dance.”

We didn’t want them to go just yet, and M&S obliged with an encore. They were so complimentary of Portland and Maine and were obviously so grateful for the whole experience. I was really pleased with how kind they were to us. A few lucky local residents were REALLY pleased, actually! They played “Winter Winds” and people got excited when they started playing the opening notes of “The Cave,” which sounded GREAT. After another round of thanking us profusely for being a great first stopover on their brief American tour, they invited all of the musicians from the day out on stage to cover “The Weight” by The Band. It was quite a sight to behold, and we all sang along. The night ended with a round of fireworks before we were all off on our merry way. I really, really hope to see Mumford & Sons again from up close someday! When I saw them on SNL last night, my first thought was, “Oh! That’s what they look like!” I loved their set, though, and they deserve finding their way onto your iPod if you’re one of the few left who hasn’t discovered them yet.

xo,

bree