We Were Sixteen, Maybe Less, Maybe a Little More (Iron y Wine y Calexico y Salvador Duran y Nellie McKay, Webster Hall y Mercury Lounge) [EDIT]

Must Make Merrier.

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Though there was a single show-stealer...

And, look:  Nellie got herself a band. 

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Size matters.

Am about to say something a little shocking.  Secure the laptops, lay down any sharp objects; those who read their screens while standing should sit.  Okay.  Ready?

I’m really glad last night’s Calexico/Iron & Wine concert was held at Webster Hall.

Yes:  Cavernous, bilk-happy Webster Hall.  It’s a venue that slaps a question mark after otherwise attractive line-ups, and this time it was a pronounced, swirly Borge-wha?  Isn’t Iron & Wine basically a guy with a whisper and a guitar?  Even though they’d done it before – I&W booked two nights there back in June – doesn’t that type of music lose its appeal in a room built for 1400?  Further capacity issues:  Both of the groups involved are touring in support of EPs.  Critically lauded EPs, sure – I&W’s Woman King and the collaborative In the Reins were both released this year; Calexico’s Convict Pool came out last year, and they haven’t had a full-length release since 2003 (though they have their typical tour-only CD, The Book and the Canal, at the merch booth) – but it still felt a tall order given the short shrift.

They planned to fill the house for three straight nights?  Nuts.

Well, they filled it all right.  Not one of the three nights sold out, no.  But they filled the place with sound.

There didn’t seem to be much anticipation around these shows, and right up until the end I wasn’t even sure I’d bother.  What little rumble there’d been had been about Sufjan Stevens’ “surprise” appearance at Monday night’s show – great, another guy with a guitar trying to please an arena – and he’d only played two bitty ditties.  I’d seen Calexico last year, and when I checked my brief entry from that show I remembered them as a sound without songs – pleasant, but ultimately uninspiring.  And Iron & Wine?  I’m openly dismissive about guy & guitar acts.  There’s only so much time in the world.  There are a lot of guys, and a lot of guitars, and y’know –  I’m a guy, I have a guitar, and I suck too.

But the joint EP is a good one – not a home run, but a solid ground-rule double – and multi-night stands at sizeable venues from acts whose names don’t begin with “E” and end in “rasure” can be noteworthy.  And I’ve always wanted to like Calexico more.

I’m almost there.

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Calexico is a Tucson, Arizona-based group that collects around frontman Joey Burns and percussive collaborator John Convertino.  Songs run the wide range from low-hanging, vibraphonic fog to horn-helped mariachi brightness, but generally settle to graze ‘round Burns’ unexpressive vocals and sometimes-too-subtle guitar.  There are progressively political lyrics to chew on, if one is so inclined.

On this tour, they go on early – last night, right after opener Tim Fite, whom I missed; they brought seven to the stage (guitar/vocals, slide guitar, bass, two percussionists, two trumpets (one of whom switched off to vibraphone and a third guitar)) and were occasionally augmented by Tin Hat Trio/Quartet’s Rob Burger on accordion.  Projected sepia-tinted images – eagles, horses, western landscapes – nicely complemented the band’s atmospheric sound. 

The set started slowly, but took off as the room filled up... and as Burns dropped his acoustic in favor of an electric.  “Where’d that come from?” the frontman joked after one song – I believe it was a new one, “Letter to a Bowie Knife” (listen)  – seriously rocked out.  Another new number, “All System Red” was a highlight, which bodes well for the band’s next album.  There was a lot more spirit, and simply more sound, during this performance than I remembered at last year’s Bowery show.  It’s as if Calexico inflated itself to fill the room it was playing. (Again, though, “Crystal Frontier” – as loaded a tune as they have in their catalog – didn’t blow the room apart.  I want to see that thing go out of control.)

Their set felt too short, but perhaps its shortness horned some oomph in; the band was forced to find its songs quickly and didn’t have time to lose them in jammy excess.  It was the perfect way to start what stretched out into an almost continuous three-and-a-half-hour concert; band members seemed to continually switch off instruments, guests wandered in and out.  There was the impression of a constant, yet ever-evolving, line-up.

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They were joined during their last number, “Guero Canelo,” by Salvador Duran (who doesn’t seem to have a website; unfortunately, this mugshot – different guy – is the first thing that comes up when you Google his name).  Duran oozes dignity.  A mane of grey hair pushing back from an expressive face, a sharp grey goatee pushing out of it, at his most serious he looks a bit like a stouter, Latin Herbert von Karajan.

Duran provided vocals – he’s the commanding singer that wakes up “He Lays in the Reins,” on the new EP – and percussion (maracas, mouth clicks, flamenco footsteps) to the Calexico number, then was given the stage for his own set.  A harmonica wrapped around his neck and a guitar over his shoulder, he strummed and stomped out four or five songs for a worshipful audience.  For one number, he was joined from the balcony (and later, during the same song, on stage) by Calexico’s trumpeter Jacob Valenzuela.

While I suppose someone could Mr. Tanner away the performance, the man’s presence was absolute.  Dripping with sweat, he also glowed with dignity.  And gratitude.  This was his first time ever in New York, he explained, and was met with an explosion of acceptance.  “I don’t know if I’ll see you again.  But you’ll stay right here, in my heart.”

(Unlike the I&W/Calexico sets, So Much Silence (see below) hasn’t posted any D.C. Duran mp3s on their site... but you can stream his performance from NPR’s site.)

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The night’s momentum was almost killed by “surprise, special guests” The Mullikens. 

The group – Mary Mulliken on vocals/guitar and (again) Rob Burger on slide – was too standard-issue folkie and too anonymous to earn the room’s attention, despite some nice work from Burger.  They opened with what Mulliken described as “a lesbian spiritual,” and wrapped up a couple songs later.

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I was under the impression that Iron & Wine started and ended with Floridian Sam Beam  but the singer/songwriter has apparently been expanding his sound.  On his own, Beam’s voice is pillow-soft and his plucking just as unobtrusive.  Though the audience was attentive, it’s not the sort of stuff (sample some at myspace) that can hold a room this size for a full set; he was quickly joined, though, by Burger’s accordion, and other support drifted in and out.  Some “Calexicans” entered and exited, now and again;  Beam’s sister Sara came and stayed to harmonize (for a song or two, she also added a violin).

At a point still long before the official Calexico/I&W set I counted ten people on stage, and I’m not sure I got everyone.  It was like these guys were working to muster together a team to represent the U.S. against Broken Social Scene in some international tourney.

They’d lose, of course, but would go down swinging.

The Iron & Wine set worked in a few ways.  First, the constant stage shift added movement and revelation to a bunch of work that could have been plagued with stiff sameness.  Second, the comfortable comings-and-goings lent a casual party atmosphere; friends of the band shuffled out, and Beam happily introduced us to Paul, and Yelly(?), and “my sister’s boyfriend Rob!”

Most importantly, it gave the show the sound it needed to fit the room without ever sacrificing the intimacy inherent in Beam’s work.

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This is long, but so was the show.  By the time the wholly-realized combination of the two bands took the stage we were closing in on the third hour; between-act set-ups had been efficiently limited to five minute breaks.  But much of the room had come to hear the stuff on the joint EP, and the crowd roared when Duran came back out to lend his bit to “Reins.”

There were a lot of people on stage, and though the sound was never messy, you couldn’t always be sure who was doing what; when the harmonica came in on “Red Dust,” the harp player had to fight to climb out of the side-shadows.  That song, though, worked particularly well, live; it got thoroughly funked-up, then just as thoroughly stripped-down.

What was particularly remarkable about the collection of musicians on stage was the total absence of synthesizers.  Instead:  Vibraphone, xylophone, accordion, horns.  The sound was full, glorious.

That final set was mostly unsurprising, though; everyone who’d listened to the NPR stream (see below) knew to expect covers of “All Tomorrow’s Parties” and “Wild Horses” (another guest, Joel Thibodeau of Death Vessel, helped out with vocals on the latter).  You sort of hoped for a little variation, given this was the third of three consecutive shows in the same city; instead, they saved Dylan’s “Tom Thumb’s Blues” for the next stop on the tour.

“Dead Man’s Will” was the final song of the night, and it’s a lousy, low-key closer.  A particularly bouncy audience member up front kept dah-dah-dah’ing a demand for “A History of Lovers,” a better choice.  “Dude, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Beam said.  Throughout the night, the bushybearded Iron & Winer had some interesting interactions with his audience.  At first, we were “well-behaved;” then, we were “weird,” and got accused of making fun of his scarf. 

“Thanks for coming to New York!” someone from the balcony screamed, gratefully.  “Sure,” Beam said.  “It’s on the way to Boston.”

So the show remained intimate enough for insults, and grew large enough to burst a few buttons.  It was a little long, and felt it; short on moments but big on flow.  The room was full without feeling packed.  I would still love to see Calexico hit it out of the park, one of these days; if they find they need a bigger field in which to practice, I suppose I’m okay by that.

Remaining tour dates are here.

There was an NPR Webcast from D.C.’s 9:30 Club; you can stream it here, or go to So Much Silence for the MP3s:

Calexico

Iron & Wine

Iron & Wine + Calexico

And another combined set from KEXP’s Triple Door Broadcast

Great Calexico archive (check out this Minutemen cover(mp3))

And here, from Rob Burger (“Brooklyn’s own,” Burns said), the night’s marathon man, one of his compositions from the THT:  Tin Hat Trio - Red Hook Stoop(mp3)

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Webster Hall is a pretty good place for picture-taking; the stage lights are bright enough to eliminate the need for a flash, and the sightlines – unless you’re stuck behind someone who’s really tall – are clear.

I have a bunch of pics on my Flickr account; there’s more on sandwich!’s.

Could find surprisingly little NYC blog reaction; here’s After Hours City and Neil Shah.

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tags: sam beam  rob burger  calexico  salvador duran  nellie mckay  iron and wine  concert reviews  

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