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The Americanarama Festival
Featuring …
Bob Dylan and the Womb from Which All Things Appear
English bluesmeister Richard Thompson opened the show with
an unexpected bang. Folks were still drifting in when Thompson was at the end
of his near-perfect reading of British blues that mirrored back our own
heritage with a gusto that was truly infectious. The band was in fine form and
Thompson’s guitar work was magnificent. His expressive baritone was reminiscent
of a young Peter Green singing Shake Your Moneymaker in a most naught way,
f-word and all. He played his big hit “Good Things Happen to Bad People.
Thompson is a monster guitar player and the rhythm section was tight as they
come. The drummer could beat the skins double time and then some. His setlist
included “You Can’t Win”, a mid-tempo gripe about people, lovers and betrayal ”
that turned into an extended jam that allowed each member to shine. Thompson
guitar work was more than just pickin’ rapid fire notes, it involved a healthy
experimentation with sounds like a modern day Jimi Hendrix.
My Morning Jacket was next up. I reviewed their show at
Bonnaroo a few years back and though I appreciated their craft, I felt their
extended sound excursions meandered a bit, This time around they were in the
pocket with great songs that were almost pocket symphonies that Brian Wilson
created during the late sixties when acid and booze fueled the creative
process. This is a band that knows what they want to do and their energy comes
out at you like a volcano erupting. The vocalist Jim James is simply a
jaw-dropping great singer. He has a other-worldly tenor that can reach the
stratosphere higher then Eagles fly. He ranks right up there with Freddie
Mercury, Howard Kaylan and Brian Wilson as rock’s greatest singers. This band
talks no prisoners, you better pay attention and follow closely or they will
leave you behind wondering what in the hell just happened. The music is
complicated and impressive with tempo changes, inverted chords, genre hopping,
wordless harmonies, synthesized washes, use of vibrato and saxophone. They
performed several of their well-known songs including Evil Urges, Touch Me I’m
going to Scream Part 1 & 2 (incredible), and Gideon
Wilco had the difficult task of following MMJ’s triumphant
set. So they did what only they can do, stick to their roots and vision with an
almost perfect set of Americana music. They performed one great song after
another from their impressive catalog of music. Though they were based in
Illinois they created an eclectic body of music that could be labeled country
rock, Indie or modern alt-rock. The leader is Jeff Tweedy, a true student of
the game. He is able to grapple with other genres yet always sound like Wilco.
His ironic lyrics and humor (kidding on the square) give Wilco an edge that is
quite welcoming, like they are bringing you into an inner circle of like-minded
artisans that hope to overthrow the stasis inflicted by the wrongdoers who run
this country. Handshake is an incredibly lucid song about drugs and a blurred
sense of identity. The angst is captured by the sloppy slide accents and sneaky
saxophone that leads to an extended nuclear jam. I’m Trying to Break Your Heart
is filled with synth accents, organ washes and guitar. Tweedy sings about
relationship that ends badly,
This is not a joke
So just stop smiling
What was I thinking
When I said hello
I fell asleep
But the city
Was still blinking
What was I thinking
When I let you go
Don’t Forget the Flowers is a cool country shuffle that
seems to be buck Owens-inspired. The guitarist no-doubt was influenced by Don
Rich. This is a back-to-the-roots song and Tweedy does his best baritone
reading. Impossible Germany was another Tweedy classic with several complicated
guitar runs that were note perfect soaring to the heavens with the e-string and
then descending to mother earth that segued to an extended jam that was
scaffolded with open tuning and inverted chords. Via Chicago is a humble masterwork with great
lyrics and a quiet lapsteel that suddenly erupts into a frightening cacophony of sound and light that overtakes
the simple arrangement and brings it to a higher level of artistry. California
Stars is one of the highlights of the set. It’s a country two-step sung
perfectly by Tweedy. He sings like he’s having a conversation in the living
room with a few old friends. In the third verse A B-3 washes over the song and gives it a bluesy
vibe.
But the highlight of the entire evening was their extended
psychedelic reading of the Beatles masterpiece Tomorrow Never Knows, a Lennon
song inspired by The Book of the Dead.
Richard Thompson and the members of My Morning Jacket joined-in to give
it a real communal feel. The crowd was both stunned and grateful to witness
this off-the-charts reading of a legendary song at the deep end of the Beatles’
catalog. Tweedy is a genius!
Bob Dylan and his Band ended the show with a thud. His band
is composed with top-notch musicians and Dylan seemed to be in step with his
band as he switched between piano, guitar and harp. Only thing is …Dylan cannot
sing at all or even speak above a whisper. He never addressed the audience directly or
indirectly as if it didn’t matter that we were there or if we were listening. His
voice is shot, ravaged by time and constant touring. His segment was the nadir
of the night. Dylan needs to retire from live performances before he ruins his
legacy and his ragged genius becomes fodder for the critics. It did not matter
that he performed such great songs as She Belongs to Me, Tangled Up in Blue,
Blowin’ in the Wind, A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall or All Along the Watchtower when
he sounds more like a croaking bullfrog with a sore throat. At this stage in
his life he must be touring for a reason, maybe he’s broke and busted and
maybe, just maybe he could be taking his never ending tour to the ends of the
earth where time stands still and he can finally rest from his flight from
ennui. And His labor will be over…
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