Last week Savannah was visited by one of my all time favorite singer/songwriter: Ben Kweller. Somehow M. and I managed to grab the best seats in the house (read: front row-center). It being my first visit to Trustee's theatre here in town I felt like I had driven miles from Savannah in order to catch the show. Warm, cozy, intimate: these are words I'd use to describe the venue. (albeit the hyper-patriotic usage of the American flag for the common trappings and curtains was a bit much)
The show started with somewhat of a clumsy bang as B.K. knocked over his guitar stand, however, it immediately brought the artist down to the human level for me. I've been listening to his music for about five or six years at this point and had the luxury of seeing him perform live twice. All three shows were great, but this one topped the chart. This was his first time playing in Savannah despite the fact that his music seemingly has a strong (although underground at the moment) following here. Alone on stage he seemed extremely vulnerable. Supposedly he's been locked away in his studio recording what is to be his next album campaign. From the few new songs he dropped on us during the show, I have somewhat high hopes for his next installment. It sounds as though he'll be leading away from the alt-country "trucker" theme into an up tempo, guitar heavy, rock cascade. Needless to say, my fireplace is stoked. Recently I've had a bad string of luck concerning some of my fallback favorites churning out surprisingly sub-par work. I trust ole' Ben. He's changed horses in the past, and I've changed right along with him.
I first heard of B.K. from a gal I met back in college named Samantha. She was the kind of girl that kept track of too much music for her own good. She seemed to almost become a mix matched chaotic quilt of musical genres and lyrics. Sometimes while talking to her I felt as if she was answering my questions with stolen lyrics rather than original thoughts. Regardless, this person knew for sure that I was meant to listen to Mr. Kweller so hesitantly I skimmed his first solo album "Sha Sha". Almost immediately I fell in love with the honest, bare knuckled, only slightly post pubic alt-punk that reminded me of my favorites. Before I knew it I was listening to him squelch out familiar lyrics while on my travels. I took a small mp3 player that contained no more than his music with me to Turkey for a five week excursion.
In moments of boredom or solidarity I'd play through his songs one by one until they were as good as memorized. Sometimes I think it's better to have less music to choose from. It really allows for a more intimate connection to the song and album as a whole. Since then I've quelled (not Kwelled, see) most of my insistent thirst for music by quantity in hopes of rendering my ears slightly more appreciative of the music I already have.
Back to the show:
Ben peeled the onion of his set list back until finally we arrived at the encore. What had been a very calm and sterile relationship between the stage and its onlookers was torn to shreds with the last two songs. M. and I were sorely missing our chance to dance together to some of his best songs but finally our opportunity arrived when Ben beckoned everyone to fill in on the stage's brim. I must admit I didn't hold back as I jumped into position amongst one hundred others as the other five hundred sat on their knuckles in jealousy. It was in that moment that I realized I was never meant to be sitting down at a performance such as this again. As grumpy and tired out as I'm getting in my old age, the desire to be on my feet clapping and celebrating the music I love hasn't left my body. Before I knew it the concert was over and we were in line to get a crack at small talk with Big K. How I wish we could have mustered the courage to invite him out for a stiff drink and a warm conversation on such a cold night. Something tells me that we'd be quick friends.
No comments:
Post a Comment