Seattle-based bands Michael Vermillion and The Whisky Swillers put on quite the show last weekend at Conor Byrne pub. Just the name of the latter group lets you know I was in for a good time! C'mon and get some!
The Whisky Swillers, when they finally sauntered onstage, looked like a pair of ol'-time scragglers, clearly born a hundred years too early to be pop stars. They came armed with spoons, several banjos, an acoustic guitar, a harmonica, and a list of songs about heartbreak and murder that were older than my grandfather's dog Peet (RIP). Adam Borkoski, a stringy fella with a truly monumental beard, tapped his mic. "Sorry to interrupt that smooth jam," he grinned after the house music shut off. "Let's do it!" They launched into "Got No Honey," and man alive can these guys throw down some rawhide tunes (sorry for the twang in this review, but I can't help but affect it every time I hang out with these whisky-soaked saltines)! The Rev. Jeremy Summers wailed away on two eating utensils that blurred between hand and thigh, while Borkoski stopped playing his harmonica long enough to let out something along the lines of, "When I was a rich man, I'd gaze all around. Now I'm a poor man, I got no honey-babe around."
The 'Swillers busted out guitar and banjo duets that thumped and twanged into the crowd and got everyone fired up and clapping in time. The drunker of us attempted jigs. Borkoski put down his banjo and, with a twinkle in his eye, warned the crowd, "If you ever have a banjo, make sure you get it spayed and neutered, because I let this guy outside one time and now I got this little feller." He pulled out a half sized banjo and began "Don't Get Trouble in Your Mind," his fingers obscuring the fret board in a hyper flair of movement as Summer's untrimmed guitar strings swung to and fro with wild abandon. Their voices, deep and nasal, blended together as they belted out, "Don'it get trouble in your mind, your mind, don'it get trouble in your mind! When you see that girl of mine, don'it get trouble in your mind!" After the serious flag saluting (and drinking) which I indulged in on the 4th, these guys were exactly what I wanted to listen to! Toe-tappin', finger-snappin', guitar-strummin', time-travelin' folks brought back to bring down the house! I loved it!
Then up came Guthrie Scarr. I'll wax brief. Guthrie Scarr himself sported a Velvet Underground shirt that got my hopes up for a little Lou Reed-inspired odyssey, but these guys ended up being a downer, and not in the "Herion" way. I expected the deadpan delivery, but not the slight Adam Sandler intonation. As hyped up as I was from the 'Swillers, I was hoping for something a little rawer from the backing section, but they harmonized right long and sent inoffensive scales soaring around the room. I lasted for half the set, then got some beers and spent a little outside time. When I came back, they redeemed themselves a bit with the blistering track "Voice of Reason," their closer. Over the cheers of the crowd, I kept thinking "I wish they'd opened with that!"
Finally, Michael Vermillion came on. I've seen him before, when he opened for Damien Jurado, and I wasn't blown away. He was decent then (or dece' as some around these parts like to abbrev.), but not stellar. So my question is . . . what happened?! Did I just miss out on the vibe before? Did Vermillion's previously-permanent trucker hat have strange powers that he's now freed himself of? The bass player still looked like my character from Rock Band, but he seemed to have even more swagger. The lead guitar player was cloaked in shadows, seemingly full of mystique. Yeah, they looked good, but from the first note, these guys sounded GOOD. Really good! They opened up with "Roadtrips," the first track off their new album Last Night On Earth, which I might as well plug here, since it's self-released and the poor thing could use all the plugs it can get. Do like I did and get yourself a copy, because the damn thing has been in my CD player all week. I can't forget the lyrics, and you certainly won't either. Vermillion's songs are dilapidated mansions with lyrics splashed around like so much fine paint. His voice was pure gold when he sang:
And I don't mind waking up early, just as long as I can get my hands dirty.
And your lips, they make me feel like grown man.
They make me wanna settle down.
And maybe you'll kiss them and wanna stick around.
After the claps had died down, Vermillion let us know that "I didn't write a set list so we're just gonna play the new album." Well, looks like everyone gets a purchase preview and song titles are easy for your humble reviewer! When they launched into "I Hate Losin'" (my favorite track, if you care), I was strongly reminded of Nick Cave's "Red Right Hand," which is about as good as it gets in my book. When Vermillion stared off into space and deeply intoned, "I've an inkling to lay ya down, put you in the ground, with the bodies and the bones. Where it cracks and aches with each intake of air and oxygen. I hate losin'. I hate losin'," his voice reminded me of Cave genetically fused into David Bazan from Pedro the Lion ("Last Night on Earth" is where I get the latter—also an excellent song). The darkly tropical, swishing rhythm, along with moaning guitars of "I Hate Losin'" had couples pulling each other to the front of the stage to slide and slink in each others arms, despite the subject matter. To see anyone dance in Seattle is a true testament to the music, as if the rising applause needed any proof!
After the band played through their entire album, as a mini-encore the band did two excellent covers: Tom Waits' "I Like My Town" and Merle Haggard's "No Reason to Quit." Then they waved and walked off stage. People buzzed around and acted like one-acts after an extremely gratifying show. Me, I headed for the merch booth.
Check it:
Michael Vermillion (MySpace)
Guthrie Scarr (MySpace)
Whiskey Swillers (MySpace)
