LiVe sHots

THE HANDSOME FAMILY

PETER BRUNTNELL

 

The Handsome Family at the Jericho Tavern, Oxford.Tue. Nov 30th, 1999

Reviewed by Colonel Antony Green

 

There can be scarce few more rewarding moments than to arrive at a

gig just as the Handsome Family launch into their masterpiece,

Weightless Again, from their 1998 Through the Trees album: one of

the recent years’ great haunting melodies, the song really gets to that

place inside where it can move you, especially with such sadness in

its lyrics – ‘Those poor, lost Indians/ When the white men found

them/ Most died of TB/ The rest went insane’.

 

And so I find myself in a not-too-full Jericho on a cold Tuesday

night confronted with this unlikely looking, matrimonially bound duo

from Chicago. Three albums in, the couple have earned widespread

praise and respect stateside as well as mounting exposure, especially

providing support for a recent Wilco tour. Tonight is a far cry from

such grandeur, it has to be said, but the modest crowd are more than

grateful for such an occasion and obviously know their back

catalogues as they get cosy in chairs pulled up close to the stage,

and sit rapt for the entire hour that the performance lasts, almost

too scared to go to the bar in case they miss anything.

 

With songs such as Weightless Again in store, this is a fair

reaction. Brett and Rennie have the stage to themselves, save a drum

machine, and the intimacy is such that mics are virtually redundant.

Brett is guitarist and singer of Rennie’s songs, while she switches

frequently between autoharp, mellodion and one of those La Crosse

stick bass guitars favoured by reggae artists. Each half of the

Family has great presence and the stage seems deceptively full.

 

From the sad songs on offer, the treats tend to be the really sad

ones that get you in ways similar to those I mentioned before. My

Sister’s Tiny Hands is the show’s crowning moment, Brett playing a

mean washboard and Rennie almost crying into her autoharp, and you

feel that this is a deeply personal moment for her. Elsewhere, some

songs seem not to be deeply personal moments for Brett (notably the

more humorous stuff like The Dutchboy or Cathedrals) and he gets a

bit bumptious and Bare-Naked-Lady-like for my liking, slightly

undermining the delicacy of the songs, which is a shame. Mind you,

the rest of the crowd doesn’t seem too bothered, especially when the

Handsomes oblige them with three or four encores. Even my car is

touched by this evening’s performance and, like a character in a

Rennie Sparks lyric, breaks down on the way home.

 

'Colonel' Antony Green.

 

 

 

NOTES FROM THE UK: SON LITE?

This review first appeared in John Brandon's 'ALT-COUNTRY PAGE ' webzine.

Peter Bruntnell @ The Jericho tavern, Oxford, England.
Thursday 30th September 1999.


Well he rode into town with a shiny new disc picking up plaudits on
both sides of the Atlantic and with expectations if not audience
numbers high. Local support 'Four-Storeys' mixed up a fine brew of
Neil Youngisms and post/alt/whatever before The Bruntnell Quartet
eased gently into the saddle. The opening numbers were conducted
on Takamine acoustic/sparkle fender tele/acoustic bass and drums.
The vibe was mellow with a definite 'New Albert Lee' on lead. Mr.
Bruntnell came over as affable and a dam fine bloke to spend an
evening in the pub with. The more rabid Bruntnell fans in the
audience greeted the offerings, mostly from the Normal for
Bridgwater album with enthusiastic woops. The playing was solid
but by about third or fourth number which he explained was an
attack on profit driven planners everywhere ( more John Betjeman
than Dylan) the vibe was not infecting me - maybe memories of the
Son Volt/Buckner band musicians flat-out brilliance on the recorded
sound perhaps or just a normal mid tour in rainy England blues
soaking the proceedings.

Hats off to the attempt to play loud acoustic music but it suffered in
comparison with previous gigs supporting (shh.. you know who..Son
Volt) and Willard Grant Conspiracy. The lead guitar playing though
was astonishingly adept from James Walborne. Then things
suddenly sparked into a higher gear with the trading in of acoustic
for electric as Bruntnell's stalwart Epiphone did battle with songs
such as the great ..My Head Gets to Phoenix. Best song ever
written about self-preservation? The songwriting quality was high
throughout and I cannot think of another contemporary working this
English country field as good. Check out that Slow River/Loose
album at once! An emotional song dedicated to a 'departed' friend
and the band were suddenly flying. Somewhere in the back of my
mind though a wee devil was pricking me with a fork and whispering
'son volt', 'son volt'. Everything about this gig was good but not
brilliant -there wasn't the dislocating art of Farrer and as the gig
ended with a note perfect rendition of Everybody Knows this is
Nowhere I couldn't help thinking of the English football team. Solid
players but no sparkling brilliance that brings home the medals.
Treasure him though 'cos he's the best alt-c we've got for now and
you never know one day he might lift the cup.

Shaun Belcher