coming home again
The Wallflowers’ July 24 concert in New York was the first time I’d seen the full band in more than seven years, but my two-show jaunt last week was a true homecoming. Standard disclaimer/warning, even more emphatic than usual: This is (much) more journal than journalism.
On Sept. 29, I drove up to one of my all-time favorite venues, the Paradise Rock Club in Boston, stopping to visit my incredulous mother along the way. I think that after 11-plus years, she’s accepted that I love live music, but she thought evening-tripping from Fairfield County, Conn., to Boston was extreme. (Actually, getting back at 4 a.m. was, in fact, a bit much. Ouch. But I didn’t know that until the next day.)
All of a sudden, walking down that street made all the college memories came flooding back. During those years, I spent many a happy night seeing The Wallflowers and a bunch of other artists at the Paradise, and often meeting them outside on the Commonwealth Ave. sidewalk afterward.
The opener for both this show and the next night’s show was Mason Reed, who seemed to have one of those “love it or hate it” kinds of voices. I spent most of both sets trying to figure it out and finally came up with “mix between Bob Dylan and Cookie Monster, both on helium.” He did have some intriguing old-school-folk-country lyrics straddling the line between sad and funny. And a mouth harp. For his last song, he brought up a few Irish fiddlers he’d met the night before in a bar. Only in Boston.
And then it was time for my boys. (That’s a legitimate journalism term.) I spent some time talking about their new sound and new album in the July 24 review, but it bears repeating that this may very well be the best they’ve ever sounded. Admittedly, it’s difficult to tell what percentage of my (and my fellow front-row dwellers’) enthusiastic reaction comes from the strength of the music itself, and what percentage comes from just being super excited to see the band together again.
They are not a band to drastically mix up their setlists night to night or month to month, but we were treated to a few fresh additions from the back catalog: the lovely “How Far You’ve Come” (Rebel, Sweetheart returns to the setlist!)and the rollicking “God Don’t Make Lonely Girls.” Oh, and some brief rhythm guitar-less, a cappella-ish bits, namely during “Closer To You.”
My favorite song (maybe of all songs), “I’ve Been Delivered,” stayed on the setlist, and I once again melted. The end.
The new songs continued to shine, with that same confident energy we’d heard live in July. It it impossible not to move during several of those songs, particularly (and not surprisingly) the Clash-inspired “Misfits and Lovers” and “Reboot The Mission.” Obviously, Mick Jones was not present on stage to deliver his guest portions, but almost entire band joined in for backing vocals, which brought a smile. It felt like watching a classic rock group.
The tiny Paradise continues to be a perfect venue for this type of show, and it seems the band agreed. I can officially state that I have never ever seen Jakob “Maybe I’ll Open My Eyes If I Feel Like It” Dylan so animated on stage. The enthusiastic sellout crowd didn’t hurt.
Although the energy scale for him is drastically different from that of, say, Rhett Miller, he was a 10 on the Jakob scale: repeatedly and snarkily dismissing the audience members yelling out for “One Headlight” (“Sorry, I can’t hear you — my guitar is too loud), miming the lyrics to “6th Avenue Heartache” while delivering a mock-serious spoken word performance on one verse, making puns about a metal post in the club that was “sup-post” to be somewhere else, laughing several times with other band members between songs, and just looking happy.
Most memorably, he blurted out “she’s a whore” in the middle of “Three Marlenas.” (Read the lyrics and it’ll make sense.) “No, I’m sorry, she’s a professional girl. A prostitute.” Word on the street was that he’d pulled out the whore line the past few performances, but hey, I wasn’t expecting it.
Full setlist:
Devil’s Waltz
Have Mercy On Him Now
Hospital For Sinners
Sleepwalker
Reboot The Mission
6th Avenue Heartache
It’s A Dream
Misfits And Lovers
Closer To You
I’ve Been Delivered
First One In The Car
Three Marlenas
Love Is A Country
How Far You’ve Come
Standing Eight Count
One Headlight
It Won’t Be Long (Till We’re Not Wrong Anymore)
— -
God Don’t Make Lonely Girls
The Difference
After the show, what truly capped off the homecoming was being able to talk to the guys again. I’d met with Jakob after a couple of his solo shows over the past few years during the hiatus, but I hadn’t talked to any of the others since 2005, except for a wave and shout from a moving car while pulling out from the July show.
Nearly every musician I’ve met over the years has turned to be at least somewhat nice, but The Wallflowers have always been very fan-friendly, even in the pre-Twitter/Facebook days, when that kind of connectivity wasn’t considered mandatory. I first met them in December 2002 in Boston, during a snowstorm. Those California dudes were out there by the bus in their puffy jackets.
Now, every band member (minus new drummer Jack Irons, but I can definitely understand why someone of his stature would be over that kind of thing) is still willing to stand around and greet everyone, and not just in a perfunctory “here’s your autograph, go away” kind of way.
They talk setlists, the status of the music industry, the beauty of pedal steel, and — in the case of one certain lovable keyboardist who is perpetually high as a kite on life, love, and maybe other stuff — anything and everything. Hugs abound, and if they’re just pretending to at least sorta enjoy talking to us, they’re doing a flawlessly convincing job of it.
It’s good to have them back.
Part II, on the following night’s very different show in Tarrytown, N.Y., to come! And some thoughts on the new album.
