Before attending Thursday night's Monsters of Accordion show at McMenamin's Kennedy School Theater, Jason Webley was the only member of the lineup that I had ever heard of. But by the end of the night, it was clear that everyone in the room was in love with every musician that performed that night.
First up was Portland's own Eric Stern, an incredible showman best known for his involvement with Portland's Vagabond Opera and for composing the full-length opera "Queen of Knives." Stern strapped on his accordion and mounted the stomp box used by all of the solo accordionists throughout the night. Almost immediately, he called for half of the crowd to mimic a jazz-trio, while the other half laid down a "tss-tss-tss-tss-tss" percussion beat, as he told a story that needed the atmosphere of a jazz club. It was clear from how completely the crowd obliged him that the room was filled with some of the most eager concert-goers I've ever had the pleasure of spending time with.
Renée de la Prade took the stage next wearing an incredible vagabond dress and shocking pink hair, and launched into a set that was one part French street performance, one part Celtic jig, and one part punk rock. Her most outstanding songs were a rockabilly jam about a gutterpunk in New Orleans, and a paean to nerdlove, closing her set with the chorus of "When your mind rocks my mind / and your body rocks my body." The crowd didn't seem ready to see her go after her rousing half-hour set.
The Petrojvic Blasting Company was the only group act of the night, with a two-man horn section and foot drums, in addition to the obligatory accordion player. The band introduced itself shyly, explaining away its name, "We're not really a blasting company." Partway through the set, their accordion player was left alone on-stage, while two of his band members and Jason Webley watched him play from the front row. As his band mates returned to the stage, they hugged the accordion player and offered him praise, "You truly are a monster of accordion." Before beginning the last song of their set, a girl started dancing off to the side of the stage near Webley. Perhaps intrigued by her dancing spirit, he jumped up and joined her in her dance, guiding her away from the wall and towards the center of the crowd. Suddenly, people rushed from all sides to create a spontaneous dance party that didn't die down until the end of their set.
To my dismay, Corn Mo, the next performer, couldn't resuscitate the crowd's desire to dance. His set was fantastic, though, and he rocked out with more of a classic rock vibe than I expected an accordionist to have. At one point between songs, someone asked where Corn Mo was from, kicking off a strange, rapid-fire Q&A session. We learned he is from Brooklyn, his favorite color is red, his favorite food is pineapple, and that his accordion does not have a name because, "It's a fucking accordion." At the end of this bizarre-yet-fun back and forth, another person called out, as someone always does, for "Freebird." At this request, Corn Mo launched into a rant: "I'm Mr. Clever in the back who's going to yell 'Freebird' at a show." He asked the perpetrator's name, which was Michael, and let him know that, "Everyone is going to yell 'Fuck you, Michael' in about five minutes, 'cause you asked for the next song I'm going to play," before launching into what I can honestly and easily say was the most amazing accordion cover of a Lynyrd Skynyrd song I've ever heard.
Finally, Jason Webley took the stage to raucous cheering. He borrowed a lighter to start his set with his original composition, "Free Bird," which is quite literally, about a free bird. The audience laughed, as though an old friend was telling jokes, but it was clear that they were anxious for the Webley tunes they were used to. As the last notes of his opening song died away, he transitioned smoothly into the beginning of "Dance While The Sky Crashes Down." Immediately, the crowd leapt to its feet and started to stomp and sing along. They never sat down again. One of the highlights of his set was a rewrite of the Evelyn Evelyn song "Elephant Elephant," entitled "Bacteria Bacteria" that Webley wrote for a performance at the Ig Nobel awards. Another was "Hockey Star," from Big Little Dipper Dipper, an accordion-based 90s-flavored techno song, where he instructed the audience to sing, "My hair is a very very long hair / it's short and long / long long long short and long." The end of Webley's set was, as always, his classic "Drinking Song," during which the entire crowd threw their arms around each other and swayed in unison, singing as one.
It's tempting to call "Drinking Song" a perfect end to the night, but when Webley returned to ask the powers that be if there was time for a short encore, it was clear that everyone in the room was aching for more. When those powers denied this request, the heartbreak in the room was tangible. Jason assured us that all of the performers would be in the bar after the show, and that they would have "sweaty hugs for everyone." Prior to this concert, I would never have expected a crowd to react so favorably to this suggestion, but for some reason, sweaty hugs seemed to be the perfect way to end an evening with the Monsters of Accordion.
