Grant Lee Phillips at Largo

THE other night i caught grant lee phillips at what i still think of as the "new" largo. i know the phrase "underrated singer-songwriter" is almost always redundant, but it has a special meaning for phillips. the leader of a critically acclaimed but never bestselling 90s band, grant lee buffalo -- who played a kind of sweeping americana that was out of step with everything around them in the LA scene -- he has gone on to a solo career that for my money is at least as interesting as the music he was making in the mid-90s, when rolling stone voted him "best male singer." (Here he is on youtube.)

it was also one of the strangest musical nights of my life. (hang on.)

in the candle-lit "little room" at the largo, where phillips performed, the intimate, emotionally direct songs took up all the space. i was struck by how strong his voice is, with its shades of john lennon maybe a touch of hank williams and something all his own -- it's not studio effects, the dude really has pipes.  and his music comes from dylan and neil young without really sounding like either one.

most striking, though, was phillips' showmanship and wit. it takes a lot to keep an audience entertained with just a guitar, voice and a host of mostly dark songs about love gone bad. but grant lee is better than anyone this side of richard thompson at matching brooding/ doomy songs with great between-song banter and a weirdly understated sense of humor.

for a sense of how good grant lee can be, check out the song "folding" on his first solo LP, "ladies love oracle," which he made with his frequent collaborator, largo's brilliant/eccentric  jon brion. with what sounds like a pedal steel guitar and a harmonica, he plays a kind of country blues about that moment when you decide you have to break up with someone. with his poker metaphor -- okay, i fold -- he captures the sense of resignation when you wake up from "the colorful lie." i'd print the lyrics but like any great song it works with all its elements, including one of GLP's best vocal performance.

grant lee encored by bringing over fiddler sara watkins, prev of nickel creek, who'd been playing at largo's main theater... somehow i'd missed nickel creek during their years together, but that girl can play the fiddle and has a breathtaking old-school country voice. she's got a solo record next month i'm curious to hear.

the weirdness came from the openers -- the dude who played the hippie school-counselor on "freaks and geeks" (who i guess you'd call a comedian), offering bizarre monologues and a weird musical number, and a duo that played theramin and vibraphone to earnest tunes like bowie's "major tom." tho the theramin solos went on a bit too long, this oddball mix took the pretension out of an evening dedicated to sitting in the dark watching a singer songwriter. somehow it all worked.

tho i cant wait for the place to get its bar set up.

Photo credit: Flickr 550

Lambchop vs. Radar Bros at Club Largo

LAST night i saw radar bros. open for lambchop at club largo, the legendary (and newly relocated) venue that helped establish acts like aimee mann, grant lee phillips, master of ceremonies jon brion, and a whole wave of alternative comedy acts that i dont know as well. the old fairfax location, across from canter's deli, was a place you could, if you got the word in time, count on catching a seat-of-the-pants, small-room set by, say, elliott smith (as i did a few weeks after moving to LA in 97.) or, a truly astounding set by the jazz pianist brad mehldau, who i've seen in two or three other settings but never quite as startling and powerful as in the old club largo space.

so i'm glad to report that the new space is really wonderful, even to those like me who miss the old one. medium size theater with real seats makes up the main space, with a smaller spot -- tiny tables with candles on them, grotto-like space -- that recalls what was best about the old room, in an even more intimate setting. brion was standing by the door in an outlandish suit and broad smile -- felt like the old days.

the radar bros. are one of the great undersung treasures of LA rock -- in the 90s they were part of a triumvirate of "slowcore" bands that also included actetone and spain... the joke was that the radars were the only band in history who played SLOWER live than on record. last night the hall's acoustics, the gentle melodies and the weird guitar voicings put me in an almost narcotic place, much like the third VU record. it was the effect i've always craved, and never received, from their live shows.

lambchop have come into their own the last few years, and i've loved their last two records despite not really getting what the whole lambchop thing is all about. they're from nashville, so they're alt-country, kind of, by way of burt bacharach, jimmy webb, and early curtis mayfield -- i think. whatever it is, they were in good form at largo, as a six piece... with the pianist offering the strangest between-song banter i've ever heard. he could make robyn hitchcock sounds like a documentary  realist.

here is a solo acoustic rendition of my favorite song from the new LP, "ohio,"

kurt wagner's voice is one of the most distinctive in rock -- every bit as southern-weird as michael stipe's. and here is wagner solo again, covering dylan's "you're a big girl now." 

any thoughts on these two very distinctive bands or this very transformed LA institution?

Photo credit: Merge Records and Radar Bros.