"One of Those Crazy Prices of Fame" (David Vandervelde, Pianos, 2/27/07)

Not to make too much of this, but it's an awful lot of fun watching David Vandervelde (myspace) play guitar.

Ever see that Ringo Starr-directed T. Rex concert film?  When Marc Bolan - who's got the charisma of a billion suns - is at his best, he treats his microphone as an inconvenience.  He knows there's a structure and texture people expect from lyrics.  But Bolan won't bother holding notes, he'll walk away in the middle of the line, he'll step back every chance he gets.  Sometimes he'll forget himself while he's away and has to dash back to make his cue.

Because Bolan knows everything he needs to say can be said with his guitar.

What great, sloppy, fun.  And - though it might be too easy to say this about something that's essentially a rockabilly number - everyone besides Bolan in that clip is superfluous.  The drums and the bass and Mickey Finn's freakin' bongos are barely lending moral support.  All you need's that guitar, the swagger, that Chuck Berry strut, and Bolan's little off-script exclamations.  Giddy-on!  The movie's called Born to Boogie, and after watching it you're convinced the man danced right out the womb axe in hand.

[You should definitely rent, if not buy, the concert DVD... though there are plenty of clips available on YouTube (including surreal interludes, bloopers, this nifty cobbled-together performance with Elton John).]

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[photo from (duh) a WOXY studio session] 

I hope Vandervelde doesn't get frustrated by all the T. Rex comparisons.  Because he doesn't just deserve them, he's earning them.  Plenty of early-70s rock influences burble through the 22-year-old Chicagoan's first record, The Moonstation House Band.  But full, slurry glam-worship pushes it forward and Bolan's earnest lilt lifts it up.

T. Rex -  Spaceball Ricochet (Rabbit Fighter version) (mp3) (buy)

For the record, I'm totally down with A Glam Revival.  As long as I don't have to dress for it.  One of the tenets of glam was an unironic self-awareness about its influences, and great holy fuck that sounds good right about now.  We're too smart to fool ourselves for much longer.  Let's stop pretending everything is new and important and have some fun.  Marc Bolan could sing about Alan Freed and John Lennon, Ian Hunter could sing about T. Rex; Butch Walker can bop the Hoople and the Stardust and the Glitter to the kidz, the Apes and Androids boys can dress their performance art up in the Bowie of their choosing.  And David Vandervelde can wage Electric War.

David Vandervelde - Feet of a Liar (mp3) (buy)

Moonstation's not afraid to throw a stomp down, but most of it errs towards intimacy.  Which makes sense when you see the credit "All songs written, recorded, played and produced by David Vandervelde."  Though other musicians make appearances, and it was put together in former Wilco member Jay Bennett's "special playhouse," this is largely a one-person album.  That can mean a lot of overworked Beatlepop and a little too much use of the Inside Voice.  But that's okay:  T. Rex started as a folky guitar-and-bongos outfit, and while Bolan had a charisma and a kindness that allowed him to get small in a very welcome way (in Boogie, he squats Indian-style mid-set with an out-of-tune acoustic and still commands the whole of Wembley stadium), his band really came alive when it grabbed some hooks and some twang and rocked the fuck out.

Vandervelde's been playing since he was twelve, but has only been playing with a band for going on a year and a half.  Here's that same song from a session that band recorded for Daytrotter this past December; by the end of the song, he's found the twang at the bottom of that thing... and just watch what happens around the 2:15 mark:

David Vandervelde - Feet of a Liar (live Daytrotter session) (mp3)

That's what happens when David Vandervelde steps back from the microphone.

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Vandervelde's the first of four acts and Pianos is packed - we're asked to squish together upfront so they can fit more people in - at 8:30.  The band he's on tour with, right now - it shares its name with the title of the CD - is a three-piece and looks a little like a hippie-dippie cartoon.  Drummer Derek James has a tight denim vest and a full-bodied head of hair - an abbreviated combination of Ringo and George, when the Beatles were at their most follicly resplendent.  Bassist Richie Kirkpatrick's sideburns go down to his jawline; his mustache seems to have contemplated, and decided against, the whole muttonchop thing.  The headband isn't helping.

Vandervelde is tall and thin, a light-colored tucked-in plaid shirt, the wide cuffs of his jeans catching the heels of his cowboy boots.  He's... moist, and by the end of the set he'll be soaked.  Long, straight hair falls over his face; some strands stick.  He's been ill - I'm told that last night at Union Hall he was so feverish he nearly fell off stage - and his manner's a little odd, though it's tough to tell whether that's because he's sick or wired or just a little weird.

He retunes his guitar between every song, and uses the same joke - the "guitar tech is out in L.A. with the Chili Peppers" - twice.  "Does anyone find that funny?"  This is how onstage banter goes:  "You dudes ready?"  "Yeah, dude!"  And the band's good enough (the bass is mixed way too loud)... but the band doesn't matter.  Even when James goes apeshit at the end of their Stones cover.  On Moonstation there are strings and keyboards; they're not here, and they're not missed.

David Vandervelde - Cocksucker Blues (live Daytrotter session) (mp3)

There's nothing wrong with being The Next Marc Bolan... but Bolan never limited himself to being The Next Eddie Cochran.  When Vandervelde goes for psychedelic, he's less spacey than straight-up stoned.  The vocal affectation, by and large, drops off. Bolan's guitar work clung to and reinforced his riffs; Vandervelde shows more interest in jammish exploration.

Which isn't to imply jam band-style ennui.  When he steps back, he locks into a rigid right angle and shakes.  He's not spazztastic, or seizurrific.  He's more like a motor that's shaken its bolts loose.  Notes may come out frantically, but his hand clamps around the neck with confidence, precision.  There's not a single moment when you don't feel he knows exactly what he's doing, and there's not a single moment when you wish he was doing anything else.  David Vandervelde comes from that country where that's how you say things, with your guitar, and should his arguments lack eloquence they're never less than compelling.  Convincing, even.

It's an awful lot of fun watching David Vandervelde play guitar.

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Moonstation House Band is currently streaming here.

You can also download a recent WOXY session the band record.

Vandervelde's currently in the UK, but will be at SXSW (there are six different appearances listed on his myspace).  Forthcoming NYC dates include an April 21st show at Luna Lounge with Richard Swift (tix) and a gig the next night at Pianos.

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Also there...

Union Hall:

Who's Driving the Bus  

Pianos:

Friends of Lloyd, Waved Rumor, Who's Driving the Bus (again)

tags: david vandervelde  concert reviews  

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