Luna and Clem Snide
Knitting Factory, New York (February 3, 2001)
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Luna
Knitting Factory, New York
February 3, 2001 |
So, after two days of devoting myself to the boys of country, I headed downtown to the overstuffed Knitting Factory main space to catch openers Clem Snide and Luna. And the longer I kept my ears and eyes transfixed upon the band, the more evident it became as to why I adore Clem Snide.
Singer/songwriter/guitarist Eef Barzelay credits Hank Williams with introducing him to the structure of the 3/4 waltz. And, the men of Clem Snide are most certainly indebted to Buddy Holly for their fashion sense and rockabilly heart. But, Barzelay and company are also very much their own musicians and continue to emerge as startling sonic photographers by melting together pop references and old school musicianship with a healthy dose of self-deprecation and a beguiling degree of self-confidence.
In the Knitting Factory, a sparse song like "Chinese Baby" from 1998's You Were a Diamond, came across as poignant lullaby, while "No One's More Happy than You," a song of hope, filled the space with old country goodness. On the latter, Jason Glasser's cello and Jeff Marshall's stand up bass sounded more bad ass and bombastic than any guitar. The set concluded with a rousing rendition of "Let's Explode," featuring fantastically developed dynamics and Barzelay's voice triumphantly whining "I don't want to know me better."
While Clem Snide was playing their first show in over eight weeks, Luna was playing their eighth show in New York in the last month. The band undertook this tour of the tri-state's finest venues in order to promote their forthcoming LP, Live, which was released on February 6. Lead singer Dean Wareham entered the stage in a pearl-capped button, turquoise shirt and preceded to establish a laid back tone with his relaxed guitar strumming, dead-pan voice (that was far more Johnny Cash than Hank Williams) and clever between song banter. The crowd of mostly Luna-devotees continuously threw out requests during quiet moments in the evening and Wareham laughingly batted all of them away.
I like Luna, but I must admit that most of band's songs sound alike. They virtually all consists of Wareham's deadpan nasal speak-sing, with the harmonic assistance of deliciously attractive bassist Britta Phillips, musing on everything from chimpanzees to Christopher Boyce to Bonnie and Clyde over a backdrop of jangly guitars.
The homogeneity was irking me early on because I could not pinpoint what was causing it. But, a third of a way through the set, I finally realized why most Luna songs sound alike. They are all in 4/4 meter. Now, that does not necessarily mean that every song will sound similar, but throughout most of the night, drummer Lee Wall played straight ahead down beats and Phillips was left to lay down none-too-exciting bass lines. In contrast, the set standouts like "Bonnie and Clyde" and the encore ending "23 Minutes in Brussels," made use of syncopated drum beats and dynamic bass parts.
All in all, the Luna lovers seemed satiated by the band's performance. But I couldn't help but wonder if maybe Eef Barzelay could introduce Dean Wareham to Hank Williams's music. Who knows, maybe he would learn to write a song in 3/4 time.
A.K. GOLD | A.K. Gold lives in Washington, D.C., where she slaves away for a non-profit organization and constantly compares everything to New York City or Chicago. She's earned her "cred" as a college radio and pre-1960 country music DJ, committed indie label street teamer, sporadic zinemaker/contributor, retired mail-order filler and occasional freelance writer. From time to time, she publishes Anecdotal Evidence, a per zine that will some day be considered for the National Book Award, or possibly not. If you want to buy a copy, or desire to write to her for some other reason, email criticgirl@hotmail.com.