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Wasn’t that a time?
25 years of moving, roaring, and sharing
BY JIM MACNIE

When people ask what it’s like to live in Providence, I usually tell ’em it’s great for music addicts because Route 95 brings New York-to-Boston-bound artists to our doorstep. This was especially true from the late ’70s through the late ’80s, when van-driving indie rockers were psyched to stop in any venue that would have ’em. And the influx doesn’t end with the capital city or punk-rock — from the Newport Jazz Fest to the Cajun & Bluegrass bash, there have been plenty of other places to hear intriguing stuff in Rhode Island — musical breadth is one of the Biggest Little’s strong points. College halls, barrooms, civic centers, and coffeehouses abound; along with primary spaces like Lupo’s, they’ve widened my life’s scope.

Sharing the music with friends helped me learn more, too. Moments are vivified when you’re in recollection mode: Moving to the Feelies’ pulse with Evelyn and Paige at the Blue Pelican; cracking up with Roc and Leith over Eugene Chadbourne’s antics at Rocket; grooving with Boudin at Evan Johns’s Ocean Mist gig; sharing Lou’s amazement at the Replacements’ Living Room set and Springsteen’s Civic Center spectacle; roaring with Holly when L7 hit the gas at Rocky Point; high-fiving Klem and Jack when NRBQ knocked out " In Walked Bud " ; staring at Peter and Dickie as Los Lobos let loose at Lupo’s — god, how can it have been 25 years? Hugs, kisses, and thanks to each of ’em. As Lucinda reminded a few weeks ago at Lupo’s, some things are 2 kool 2 be 4-gotten. Here are 25 shows that are etched in my mind forever.

1) Son Seals at Last Call. The guitarist’s early Alligator discs had spread his name outside of Chicago, and this was his second or third Providence visit. He was too loud, but the frenzy became more and more inviting as the night progressed. It was all about virility: flexing muscles and making noise and strutting your stuff to prove that you were really alive, really valuable. Ultimately the whole club broke out in a crazed sweat.

2) Mekons at Club Babyhead. Appropriating Ernest Tubb and Hank Williams to explain how Reagan had us digging our own graves, the British bohos with the C&W fetish made the working class feel like kings and queens for an evening. Every cackling indictment offered by Jon Langford was assuaged by Susan Honeyman’s fiddle. Hello, cruel world.

3) Graham Parker at Lupo’s. He was touring the Squeezing Out Sparks material and the Rumour was hard-and-sleek, not rough-and-tumble. Parker wielded the mic stand in a way that bordered on menacing, but if you were scared by an ominous " Nobody Hurts You, " he apologized with the frivolous yet potent encore, the Jackson 5’s " I Want You Back. "

4) Big Joe Turner at Lupo’s. The super-sized blues shouter was in a wheelchair at this point, and a throng of staffers had to lift him up to the stage the old-fashioned way. Once there he accepted the key to the city and proceeded to act like a randy twentysomething, barking out his sexspeak and riding out a bouncy, hard, swinging groove that perfectly framed his bumps and clanks and howls. Make some noise with the pots and pans, indeed.

5) Ramones at Lupo’s. Tommy was still the drummer, the club’s stage was still in the front window, and the glee the band showed while pile-driving through " 53rd & 3rd " and " Beat On the Brat " was obvious. The " punk " sound from New York had finally hit La Prov, and few things would be the same.

6) minutemen at the Living Room. So tight, so effusive, so radical, so entertaining. The politics and poetry were backed by a hands-on sense of duty. They considered themselves rabble-rousers, and were proud of their activism. The whole room crumbled when they formed a fist on " This Ain’t No Picnic " (RJ Smith perfectly captured d. boon when he deemed him " a storm with skin " ), and we realized sentiment could thankfully be part of punk with " History Lesson — Part II. "

7) Dizzy Gillespie at an if-you-blinked-you-missed-it Narragansett nightclub whose name escapes me. Lots of clubs " try " jazz to see if there’s an audience for it. The living legend was invited for a night’s work that allowed listeners to sit less than two feet from his mastery. The improv skills and comedy muscles were still sharp and, for a bit of hard-headed abstraction, he had Sam Rivers on tenor.

8) Alison Krauss at Lake Mishnock. Union Station was a relatively new outfit, and the now-famed singer was playing much more fiddle ( " Beaumont Rag, " " Dusty Miller " !!!). But it was her patented nonchalance, not her extraordinary chops, that carried the day and, in a little barn in Coventry, we all saw a bit of her future.

9) Richard and Linda Thompson at Lupo’s. Caught in the process of dissolution, the couple put on a show whose passion was disturbingly obvious. He had a cut face at one point (clip those fingernails, Linda), and she leafed through the Journal while the rest of the band transcended the torment by supporting one of Richard’s almost violent guitar solos.

10) Weather Report at Veterans Memorial Auditorium. The band had the commercial victory of Heavy Weather on its side, and its swagger helped fuel the authoritative interplay between Jaco Pastorius and Wayne Shorter. Pop melodies like " Teen Town " were balanced by the sumptuous balladry of " A Remark You Made. "

11) John Fahey at Brown University’s Alumnae Hall. Without uttering a word, the prog guitarist plopped himself on a chair and picked his way into a trance world where blues and spirituals morphed into rustic fantasia. The crowd didn’t move for a full hour.

12) D.L. Menard in the grove at Stepping Stone Ranch in Escoheag. Part of the Louisiana singer’s shtick was redressing the Hank Williams songbook and, with 20 or 30 interested parties surrounding him cross-legged on the ground, he worked his way into a forlorn take of " Why Should We Try Anymore. " It was despairing enough to have you weeping in public.

13) NRBQ at the Knickerbocker. Indian headdresses — check. Candy cigarettes — check. Obnoxious CB mic attached to the clavinet — check. Saturday night dance hall vibe fueled by sex and beer — check. A version of " Ain’t It All Right " that probably removed the nails from a few of the club’s timbers — check.

14) Bad Brains at Lupo’s. It was just after the release of Rock For Light, and the dreadlocked punks were in implosion mode. I’ve never seen as indelible an opening kerrang as Dr. Know punching his guitar and singer HR rocketing into the air with a yowl that declared their autonomy: " We will not do what you want or do what you say, oh no! "

15) Beastie Boys and L7 at the Rocky Point Palladium. They were checking their heads and pretending they were dead, and from the delirious flow of the utterly inspired hip-hop trio to the steamrolling rock of the punk-metal femmes, it defined everything good about rock during the era. Best double bill to hit the state since Mott the Hoople opened for the Mahavishnu Orchestra.

16) Evan Johns & the H-Bombs at Rocket. Turns out some guitar heroes come dressed in shit-ass jeans, spout Bud-soaked wisecracks, and deep-fry your mind with hard-swinging raunchabilly that italicizes the roll part of rock ’n’ roll. Evan was the epitome of this ilk, jazzing and bluesing and romping and punking enough to make the entire room giddy.

17) Gang of Four at the Living Room. They were on a theater tour of the third album (Songs of the Free), and they brought an oversized PA into the club on an " off night. " When the funk-skronk of " To Hell With Poverty " hit you at full volume, it was like being stomped to the ground by a mugger (in a good way). When the dust finally settled, the room was filled with Reagan haters.

18) Paul Geremia at Talk of the Town. There are nights when the virtuoso guitarist likes to make a racket, and with 12-string flashing, he was extraordinarily aggressive with his picking, sliding, and strumming. Each hand movement was a lesson in arranging and orchestration.

19) Peter Brotzmann and Han Bennink at Brown Unversity. The German sax player is a super-serious blowhard. The Dutch drummer is a masterful cutup. Together, their extreme yin-yang fried every mind in the room with equal amounts of fury and comedy.

20) The Young Adults’ album release party at Lupo’s. Local kings of dada, they were half-SCTV and half-Bonzo Dog Band. Driven by boundless wit and affection for absurdity, they brought a wonderfully cheesy sense of theatrics to the barroom. The face that Rudy Cheeks made while downing the super-sized bottle of pills on " Kill Yourself " was as classic as any Sgt. Bilko puss.

21) Ornette Coleman and Pat Metheny at the RISD Auditorium. There weren’t many stops on the Song X tour, but the crazed coordination between the jazz iconoclast and the guitar superstar was literally sensational. They created tornado after tornado of team solos, and each made listeners gasp and guffaw.

22) Sonic Youth in Newport at the Shake-a-Leg benefit. In a rickety hall on the Newport harbor, the once and future kool things created the perfect balance between screech and song. They’d just recalibrated their approach on Goo, and a new level of clarity was giving their viciousness more power than ever.

23) Jonathan Richman at Amara’s. Evidently adult juvenilia has its place in pop. It certainly has its charm. Crawling on the floor on this natural foods restaurant, singing " I’m a Little Dinosaur, " he refuted the sobriety of his rock ’n’ roll colleagues, trusting the silly to usher in the sublime. Somewhere between " Here Come the Martian Martians " and " Abominable Snowman In the Market, " he proved his case.

24) Public Enemy at the Providence Civic Center. Hip-hop was still discovering how to present itself in big concert halls, but Chuck’s dead-serious voice, Terminator X’s scratched-up symphony, and the poetic weight of their political declamation articulated how vehemence can be its own reward.

25) Emmylou Harris at Lupo’s. The Ballad of Sally Rose had just hit the racks, and she’d definitely moved beyond bar gigs — this was an event. Excitement was boosted by the fact that it was her birthday, she was in great voice, and the Hot Band was living up to its name. Especially on a spin through " Together Again " that had the entire room swooning.


Issue Date: October 24 - 30, 2003
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