Local duo, the Cage had begun the evening with a bluesy, soul driven, low key, set of songs delivered by a guy all in white and his young friend who played rhythm guitar. They were confident and spoke to the audience like old friends. I thought the songs might have stood up better with a bit more varient in the guitar accompaniment. The straight chord strums needed something extra to make it all bite.
After a short interval Kate McKenzie and her band came out before the audience. The Tower is quite a distinctive theatre. Only caters for 118 people, most of the seats sold tonight and is housed in a curious 'tower' like building. The Americans were intriqued by it. They are also a little phased by touring the country like that famous film cliche 'If it's Tuesday, it must be Belgium . . .' If they had trouble coming to terms with all that band on the road stuff (fleeting glimpses of English towns, roundabouts etc.) they had their heads firmly around the music.
The adverts declared Kate McKenzie from Nashville, which she clearly wasn't but it gets the punters in and the music is in the classic kind of Alison Krauss mould on the right side of the great divide between industrial Nashville and the real McCoy. Nope Kate McKenzie ain't from Gnashville, she's from somewhere up there in Bob Dylan's ol hometown state, Minnesota. Her guitar player is a science teacher from Salem, Oregon. Her bass player is from the MidWest and umm her banjo picker is from, ummm, somewhere in America.
None of this, of course, is as important as where the music came from. It was, to coin a phrase, 'straight outta Boone County'. I have got this far without mentioning the word 'bluegrass'. This, to the deadly hip, those in shades and sporting pigtails, is like a scatter gun that empties a pub faster than a Val Doonican karokee night. For me bluegrass and all varients in between is either deadly mechanical like a wind up clock or it as sweet as a nut. As smooth as a Jack Daniels on a back porch full of ice tea as it were.
Tonight Kate McKenzie's Out of the Blue were 'sweet as a nut'. I was skunk drunk on a set that included not only the songwriter's own blues tinged bluegrass originals but songs by the Delmores, Buck Owens, a gospel number and a blinding cover of Driftless by the man who inhabits the desolate regions somewhere along the borderline between Iowa and Minnesota, Greg Brown.
It was one of those relaxed, magical evenings. McKenzie's repartee and traded insults and observations amongst the band making it kind of special. She gave the banjo player some real stick. "Do you know the definition of perfect pitch?" she asked the audience. "Well it's when you throw the banjo in the skip and it lands on the accordian . . ." Howls of laughter.
As we are in the midst of the World Cup perhaps I might point out that on the either wing the two Dales, errm Atkins and the umm the other Dale picked guitar and banjo respectively and it was all killer stuff. Delightful to hear such well miked instruments carving magic out of fresh air. Typically gifted players who handled their instruments like ming vases and produced some stunning interplay.
Dave Mosher in the sweeper position held the backline with the kind of bass lines that looked real easy but sounded spot on. Mosher came to the front mic to sing the title track from his own CD Sycamore Tree. This detour gave the set a different twist with a harder rockier kind of Boone County radio sound.
Both Dave Mosher and Dale the guitar player, the other Dale stuck to playing banjo, graced Kate McKenzie's vocals with superb backing vocals. The four piece band sounding like a bigger unit at times. McKenzie's voice met where bluegrass meets the blues. It was like where Bill Monroe's mandolin playing gets close enough for jazz. It sounded such a natural blend. Kate McKenzie didn't have a full bodied Alison Krauss stunner of a voice but it was nonetheless perfect for the music.
She was rollicking on the Delmore's Pan American Boogie about a train ride from Cincinnati to New Orleans with a glorious couplet "Well, she boogies down into Louisville, and if the gals don't kiss you then a race horse will". She ended with a Buck Owens song that I added to my collection. It was, however, a song that she did which wasn't bluegrass, amongst all the picking and back porch, whiskey from the jug music that totally floored me.
Greg Brown is an on the road folkster embued with more than a taste of Kerouac's soul. Kate McKenzie alluded to the wild country where Brown lives along the Iowa and Minnesota border and then she sang something that draw a panoramic picture right there in front of my ears. Driftless was just as apt as it's title. It was slow, moody and dramatic by turns. The Tower disappeared from my view and I was stuck right up in some lonesome canyon with the last rays of the sun coming down. Then Dale the guitar player picked the sweetest damn guitar lick of the night that had me grip my seat less I fell over skunk drunk. Phew.
The rest of the audience were as amazed by it all as I was. The band were pleased to have got such a reception and probably thankful when they could put their instruments down after two encores. Kate McKenzie looked visibly drained and enthralled at the same time. One of them joked from the stage about getting the audience to come with them to the next gig. If Driftless keeps replaying in my head as it is doing I might just have to take up that offer.
Mike Plumbley
Kate McKenzie Out of the Blue were Kate McKenzie vocals and acoustic guitar; Dale Atkins Churchill acoustic guitar and backing vocals; Dave Mosher electric bass and vocals; Dale Williams banjo.