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LeisureSuit.net Live: Old 97's at Irving Plaza, NYC
by Phil Kitchel

published 3/6/00

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Phil Kitchel is a writer based in Brooklyn.



MOST RECENT YAK ABOUT THIS ARTICLE:

Subj: Hayseed Dixie shouts it out loud with a tribute to Kiss.
Hayseed Dixie is this band of acoustic musicians from Tennessee that puts a pretty cool twist on their own renditions of Kiss songs. Their album Kiss My Grass has a heart-wrenching version of "Cold Gin," the confident, cocksure delivery of "Lick It Up" and other timeless Kiss tunes including "Calling Dr. Love," "Detroit Rock City," and "Heaven’s On Fire."
The boys of Hayseed Dixie: Barley Scotch, Enus Younger, Talcum Younger, and Mutt Twang recorded a previous tribute album to AC/DC. In fact, the members of AC/DC liked their acoustic bluegrass sounds enough for bassist Cliff Williams to invite the band to play at a tour-wrap party. He even joined them onstage to play bass on "Have a Drink On Me."
Check out ‘Detroit Rock City’ from Kiss My Grass (due out on 2/18/03) at mp3.com: http://artists.mp3s. com/artists/524/hays eed_dixie.html

-- mountainboy
Jan 21, 2003 at 8:31PM

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Old 97s in concert.
I bought tickets for the Old 97's at Irving Plaza last week with some doubts. Despite a deep passion for 1997's "Too Far to Care", I had a grievance with their latest release, Fight Songs, being way too much facile pop with none of their earlier spit and vigor. They sounded like a band making a bad decision. I wasn't at my best the night of the show, either, having called in sick that day, truly and on good grounds. (I already had the tickets, though--what would you do?) The opening band was traveling with the 97's from Dallas and had some sort of pun for a name--ah yes, Death-Ray Davies--and performed a likable but unremarkable brand of spunky '60s garage pop a la Weezer and Possum Dixon, two bands of whom we are well rid, and of whom we need see no further evocations. (OK, I did sort of dig Weezer, especially compared to the current Third Semi Matchbox or whatever.)

Old 97's were reverently received by an audience that obviously held them near and dear--requests were shouted out, words sung along, favorites avidly cheered. They took the stage having already won it, but they did not fail to give all effort. It was a big room, and full--and we are in New York City, after all; if a band's only got one good show in them, they're gonna spend it here. Rhett Miller was every bit the charismatic frontman--desperate, passionate, emotive, and amusing. He flung himself about most convincingly, bawled like one denied his supper, and sweated himself dry. His knees buckled, his arm flailed, his neck strained, his hair dripped. Even when he was just going "AAAHHH!" on "W. TX Teardrops," you couldn't take your eyes off him. Part of me wished to hate him, for after his labors he could have had his pick of a thousand hotties, and, for all I know, he did.

As for the rest of the band, a taped backing track could hardly have been more eclipsed by Miller. Even bass player and harmonist Murry Hammond, whose clipped tenor, country-gentleman demeanor, and undeniable agility with his axe made him a valuable second fiddle, was clearly comfortable playing Panza to Miller's jousting Boy Quixote. Lead-guitarist Ken Bethea had little of the flamboyance usually expected in the role, and drummer Philip Peeples went dutifully about his work like a boy fetchin' water on a July afternoon. This is no slam on them musically--not at all. They brought it. They whipped it up, they took it down, they were the whole package. Bethea is a master of the necessary sounds, from the clean Fender twang of "Salome" to the night-train howl of "Melt Show," and Peeples powered the whole thing along tirelessly, deploying that Dead-Kennedys-do-"Rawhide" beat again and again. Miller pushed his voice hard and it held up; he screamed "Broadway" like he'd been dragged behind a cop car to the Battery and back and lived to tell the joke. All in all they were a joy to watch. I stood there thinking they might be the band to take this alt.country thing to the arena and the radio, 10 years after I thought Uncle Tupelo were going to save American rock from a Black Sabbath-induced suckhole. Where comes the band that strides purposefully across the scape, being neither girlie-pop pussies nor brutish, ham-fisted thunder-bringers? Could this be them?

Of course, such notions are tainted somewhat by aforementioned questions about their overall direction: Although they did pep up those Fight Songs tunes, concerns remain. That album stands on the wrong side of the line between craft and compulsion--Miller even got lost singing "Oppenheimer," which I think is all you need to know. Watching them play those fussy pop songs next to their sweaty earlier material was like comparing Pat Robertson with Jimmy Swaggart: They might both promise the con of salvation, but only one of them has tasted the sweet sticky-sticky.

So which band will win out? Are they vying to be the next Goo Goo Dolls, another band that's seemingly traded its live fire for acousti-pop soundtrack glory? (Granted, the Dolls, though once a real pleasure, didn't have quite as far to fall.) Can it be long before "Nineteen" or "Murder (Or a Heart Attack)" turns up behind another wide-eyed street-smooch on Fox's Jennifer Love Takes Manhattan? One more album and the tale will probably be told; for now, there's Too Far to Care to hope they fall back on: When they closed the last encore with "Time Bomb," the place was up for grabs. It was the one we'd been waiting for and they knew it; they fired up that Elvis, Scotty, and Bill rhythm and I forgot my bronchitis, threw down the cigarette I shouldn't've been smoking, and stomped the hardwood like a man at a rock'n'roll show. Which I was.

They better not let me down.


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Name: mountainboy
Subject: Hayseed Dixie shouts it out loud with a tribute to Kiss.
-- Jan 21, 2003 at 8:31PM
Hayseed Dixie is this band of acoustic musicians from Tennessee that puts a pretty cool twist on their own renditions of Kiss songs. Their album Kiss My Grass has a heart-wrenching version of "Cold Gin," the confident, cocksure delivery of "Lick It Up" and other timeless Kiss tunes including "Calling Dr. Love," "Detroit Rock City," and "Heaven’s On Fire."
The boys of Hayseed Dixie: Barley Scotch, Enus Younger, Talcum Younger, and Mutt Twang recorded a previous tribute album to AC/DC. In fact, the members of AC/DC liked their acoustic bluegrass sounds enough for bassist Cliff Williams to invite the band to play at a tour-wrap party. He even joined them onstage to play bass on "Have a Drink On Me."
Check out ‘Detroit Rock City’ from Kiss My Grass (due out on 2/18/03) at mp3.com: http://artists.mp3s. com/artists/524/hays eed_dixie.html

Name: I love ken bethea
Subject: old 97s
-- Aug 16, 2001 at 5:16PM
i went to tha tla when they were there and they were awesome..i love ken he is hot

Name: Fleetwood
Subject: OLD 97s
-- Apr 3, 2001 at 9:51PM
I went to the Irving Plaza show also. I had bought two tickets, but none of my friends were interested. I met a girl at happy hour in midtown earlier in the evening, and she was game for something different.

Long story short: We went, the band played with a real mission, unlike the first time I had seen them at Maxwell's in Hoboken the previous year, when they were obviously hung-over to the rafters (I later found out via email from the band that they were indeed sluggish, as a result of a binge in Boston the previous evening.) Anyway, they more than made up for it with a highly energetic show, tight playing, and good-natured volleys with the crowd.

As for the girl, she was so appreciative that I got lucky in her apartment in Brooklyn that evening. We went out for a few more months. About a week after the show, I stayed over again and she had bought "Too Far" and "Fight Songs." She loved "Doreen"; too bad that song isn't on either of those albums. I broke up with her when I met my current girlfriend. At least the band has one more fan.

Name: BT
Subject: Assbiting notwithstanding
-- Jan 3, 2001 at 4:19PM
Sure it took a long time for me to catch this particular article, but I had to weigh in on Kitchel's VERY accurate portrayal of an Old 97's gig. The first time I saw them, sometime in '97 at The Metro in Chicago, Rhett Miller often toasted the crowd and consumed the better part of a fifth of Jack Daniels, falling down a few times, all the while performing exactly as described in this article. The kind of energy they displayed that night hooked me for life and after 6 more live shows I will stick with them, through good times (Too Far..., Early Tracks) and bad (Fight Songs). I'll be visiting this site from now on, based on this article, which was entertaining, as well as right-on! (yeah, Weaver does appear to be quite the jerk-off!)

Name: Z
Subject: Assbite my ass
-- Dec 18, 2000 at 6:02PM
Judging by the time of his posting (2:16AM) Weaver is clearly a lonely, bored frustrated jerk-off who knows nothing about music or good writing when he sees it. Bite your own ass. I loved the article. And "Fight Songs" DOES suck, although I'm not quite ready to give up on the Old 97's yet, as I sit here listening to "Too Far to Care." And, by the way, why hasn't Phil Kitchel written anything since April? Bring him back, please. Weaver can save his poop for his own pants, where he probably regularly does his business in the wee hours.

Name: Weaver
Subject: The Old 97s article was good...
-- Dec 16, 2000 at 2:16AM
...for me to poop on!!!!
You're an assbite!!!

Name: Amy
Subject: Redemption
-- Mar 13, 2000 at 8:49AM
P. Kitchel is right on the money. I was at that show at the Plaza, too, and was just as leery after having wept over the horror of Fight Songs. Ugh. What a sappy mess. I felt so let down. But the show rocked. It just rocked. Of course, Mr. Kitchel put all of this oh-so-much-more eloquently. This is the first article of his I've seen here (I love this site) -- hope to see more.

Name: skronk
Subject: kitchel yak
-- Mar 9, 2000 at 9:37PM
write more; write again-- you have a lot to say.


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