Naked Sunfish - Issue 5 ~ OK it's a Concert Review, but the Irishman had
to DRIVE to get there!
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Trey
Anastasio Noblesville,
Indiana There are a decent amount of stars visible as I gaze skyward and try to walk at the same time, this being rather difficult given my condition. In a musical fugue I try to retain my low level of coherence as I stumble through an anonymous cornfield, thankfully it's only ankle-high in early June. Our third companion lost in the dark somewhere behind us after a fall, my friend and I try to make our way through the night to our campsite with only a dimly lit barn in the distance to guide us. And so it begins, the glorious summer concert season. Earlier in the evening my friends and I made our way into Deer Creek, excited for our first taste of Trey Anastasio's solo tour after the release of his premiere self titled album. As the sun sets just to the west of the pavilion we decide the lawn is the place to watch the show, and as we settle in Trey and his large 10-piece band emerge. Little is said by anyone on stage as they open quite fittingly with a Caribbean-esque, upbeat, rolling blues song with a standard horn section arrangement that stands out a little more when played exceptionally well, as it is here. As a concert opener it is an excellent choice, and Trey and his band extend the jam section as the sky continues to darken. The show is clearly not sold out as much of the lawn in empty, but the pavilion is jammed. Those who know what they like came here to see it, concern about the fullness of the venue is reserved for promoters and the like. Clearly Trey and his band are there for the music and as long as that's what the audience came for, then everyone will have the good time they hoped for. Even with the sun down the heat left from the day doesn't dissipate very fast and the band realizes this. Instead of slowing it down and letting people cool off, however, the band jumps into a ten-minute-plus extravaganza of horns, guitar, keys, bass, and drums. The song is bouncy yet is under laid with a solid groove and never wavers too far from this; permeated by sporadic lyrics it demands attention. Somehow we again return to the Caribbean in another tune soon after, all are quite taken with the melody and continue to dance. Next comes an idea, or an order perhaps, from Trey and the band to willfully power through until the matutinal resurrection of our local star. They rollick forward in excellent rock and roll fashion and make their argument with some infective guitar licks and lots of interesting lyrics. Another song emerges in the vein of the last; highly lyrical, soaring horns, and loads of warbling, circulating sounds emerging energetically from Trey's tone factory of a guitar. Somehow the chugging musical train on stage manages to reluctantly grind itself to a halt, and the lights come on to reveal thousands of drunken, maundering fans. As the venue is again darkened the music ensues without hesitation. Once again little is said, apparently there is one agenda for the evening - music, skip the pleasantries. From here Trey and his band begin building, working toward an end goal. Vibrating strings and pinched, propelled air take flight on air currents and begin to construct the scaffolding of a musical mobile. From below it is easy to hear the entire structure and to focus in on the different parts, whatever is most aurally pleasing and catches your attention. The mix is superb, given the number of people onstage. The mobile moves constantly, reacting both to it's own parts and to the air around it. This continues largely seamlessly for minutes, hours? At some point it all stops and the band leaves the stage, although this is an assumption. I remember the music, not the gaps. The cyclical nature of music thus far is jokingly apparent in the encore, a joyous song accentuated perfectly by the background vocals and punchy horns. Not surprisingly and fitting with the music of this night a wild jam ensues conducted by Trey, albeit haphazardly as he tries to control a freight train with body language while at the same time his guitar screams for attention. Trey senses the pocket that the band has created, and not surprisingly fills it with his usual reckless abandon. My fugue punctuated by the sudden stop of the music, I take stock and attempt to gather gumption for the return hike - itself punctuated by various hilarious sprawling spills. Set
I Set
II E: Will It Go Round In Circles |