Mississippi Pizza has been a favorite spot for years, what with its eclectic blend of wine-bar-hopping twenty- and thirty-somethings, celebratory soccer teams, aging baby boomers looking for the occasional brush with the tattooed set—as well as the actual tattooed set itself—musicians, and customers alike. The pizza and salads, soft drinks, wine, and beer always please, and the music, ranging in style and polish, usually enchants. Audience participation in the fabric-draped backroom includes pint-sized dancers, toe-tapping grandmas, and everything between.
This Saturday night is no exception. Two hours of music promised by four very different women who are loosely connected proves popular. Skill and musicality varies, but the music and family-feel flow. Mississippi Avenue floats by beyond the wall of windows backing the stage. The retro red velvet drapes are open, and the Atlantis Bar neon from the back of the room is reflected, superimposed on the cobb entrance to the Rebuilding Center across the street. Inside, we are immersed in the smells of hot pizza and constant chatter of friends and families, as if we’ve dropped into someone’s living room. A screeching sound check reminds us that music is up next.
Teri Untalan opens the show. Originally from Portland, she has recently returned and starts the evening with a soulful "Autumn Leaves." Her voice is velvety and dark, with warm tones drawing in the audience to active listening. At times, she verges on a soft Joan Baez with her gentle guitar accompanying her journey; at others, an Eartha Kitt in strength and sultriness. Untalan has wonderful vocal riffs in the higher registers and plays both guitar and viola with skill and passion. Her classic beauty—dark auburn hair framing her face and understated clothing and jewelry—and complex vocal textures keep the audience’s attention, and as the program unfolds her singing ranges from smoky to pure with each song. Favorites are “I’m Taken” and “The Wedding of Heidi and Jason.” Check out her connections at Girls Rock (Movie), her website, and her MySpace page.
Alison Wesley, up second, is a direct contrast in looks and vocal style to Untalan. Wesley wears her long blond hair loose, accented by bright cherry-red-framed glasses, a baby doll red shirt over jeans and red-toed shoes. Her first number is a “sad song”—a small dancer pulled from the stage by a parent seems to punctuate that announcement with tears of frustration. Wesley’s banter with the audience gives a sense of her playfulness and humor as fellow songstress Crystin Byrd joins her for a duet: their voices blend nicely. Wesley’s vocals are sweet, slightly overshadowed by the crowd, the small-room acoustics, and, quite possibly, feedback from the mic. She has moments of pure passion as she sings “I just can’t seem to leave you”; her sense of humor is evident as she connects with the audience again to admit she’s about to play a new song, in fact “just wrote this last week,” and that she may have committed a faux pas by using her own name in the song. But what the heck, she wrote it. Another line sticks out to locals as being pure Portland: “Crossed your bridges in a town of rivers.” Wesley is, several times, accompanied by a doleful and out-of-place violinist (name unknown). Wesley’s guitar accompaniment is skillful and harmonic, but the real fun comes at the end of her set: Wesley, perching her bright pink (vintage Barbie???) keyboard on a chair, kneels before it and hammers out a punky little tune -- keyboard and tambourine players join in -- to sing the Blah Blah song. "You know the chorus 'Blah, Blah, Blah…'" The small dancer joined her once again to finish out the set. Check her website.
Amy Maja, mother of four with the youngest just nine months, sets out to show music as a true family affair. Busy with other creative efforts—bringing up children—Maja admits her fingers are rusty, but her bright looks and spunk for getting back into performance are to be admired. And what a great way to test the waters of performance after having children: With other women, musicians and audience mom’s alike. Cute cropped hair, a great floral tattoo and bright vocal tones demand attention: Maja is a strong singer who promotes family community through music. After a bit of a rocky start—sound checks, getting kids situated, and replacing a battery—Maja, her husband Tyson, and their daughter Mia take flight armed with guitars and a small drum. Later, Tyson leaves the stage and Maja introduces Mia as the drummer/singer who “might be on stage the whole set, you never know.” Mia is happy in the limelight next to her mother, if at times her drumming/vocals distract from the performance. Maja has promise and her daughter’s voice blends well in one sweet song on innocence. The bottom line: it is great, in a setting so family friendly and accessible, to show children how to enjoy and perform with all kinds of people and make music a lifelong pursuit. Look for Amy on MySpace.
Crystin Byrd is a known singer to this listener, and it is always a pleasure to hear her sweet, lyrical voice. Byrd’s connection with the audience is the most natural of the evening; her band is professional and highly skilled, blending well with Byrd’s vocals and guitar. Todd Bayles on accordion/piano, and Scott Allen (a.k.a. The Cello Man) blend seamlessly with Byrd, her voice a sophisticated mélange of both bright and warm tones. She moves between banter with the band and conversation with the audience fluidly, telling stories of song-writing and collaboration as her teal blue guitar perches on her pregnant belly. The Irish-influenced music ranges from poignant ballads to struggles of finding self and happiness. Clear and achingly beautiful soprano runs seemed easy and graceful, and pull the audience into visuals of dancing children “as they spin and spin around.” Byrd paints the challenge of any musician who writes of low points, describing how she “try[s] to sing [her] way through this darkness.” Byrd and her collection of musicians are rich and warm, a wonderful way to end an early evening nestled in this cozy and humble North Portland hangout. Crystin Byrd can be found at her website and on MySpace.
