Garth Brooks

Last night marked the beginning of the epic nine show (in six nights) stand for Garth Brooks at the Bridgestone Arena. It started as a one-off benefit to raise money for victims of the million-year flood that Nashville endured earlier this summer, but when the tickets sold out in minutes, they eventually ended up with nine uber-sold-out shows and apparently millions of dollars to donate. Way to go Garth. Coming out of retirement to help out is a pretty cool move. I did my part by being the first to respond to a Craigslist ad for free tickets. Us Kemps have always been a philanthropic bunch, always willing to rescue unwanted, unused, and un-charged-for tickets.

I got to a seat in the middle of the opening set from some singer songwriter chick. I thought it was supposed to be Trisha Yearwood. Shows how much I know. Either way, it was a boring set from a boring country mare. She was cute, from a hundred yards away, but she just seemed to lack any kind of energy or stage presence. Lucky for me, she only played for about a half hour. Long enough for me to have a pretty heated debate with an elderly arena usher and have to find a new seat.

When Garth finally came out, the place erupted into an arm waving Wrangler fest in response to the "Hello Music City!" greeting. The entire arena was sold out, even behind the stage, and the crowd was super pumped to see their favorite hits that were, until recently, uncertain to ever see the stage again. He started off with my two favorite numbers, "Rodeo" and "Papa Loved Mama", which got me out of my "I hope this isn't a hokey waste of time" state and into a "this is gonna be awesome" groove. Even though there were a few opening night bugs in the sound, and the lap steel seemed to be coming from a Stratocaster, songs like "Two of a Kind", "Shameless", and the acoustic "Unanswered Prayers" were truly monumental. Another big moment was the version of "We Shall Be Free", complete with a collage of photos from the aforementioned flood. You could tell that Garth was back in his element, like he had never left, especially when he threw his head back and yelled "Man, I've missed you guys!"

Now, with this being an historical marquee event in Nashville, everyone knew that the possibilities of huge guest appearances were there. The only question was, who would it be? Resident Aussie country star Keith Urban? Maybe the habitual show crasher John Hiatt? Sadly and fortunately, respectively, no. This being the first night, we settled for a couple songs from Steve Wariner and a suite from Mrs. Brooks herself, Trisha Yearwood that included "She's In Love With The Boy". I guess it was cool, whatever. I was glad to see her leave. I can only assume that once Garth settles into the groove, he will bring the star power.

At long last, he dove into "Friends In Low Places", the penultimate 90's country hit/crowd pleaser. I won't lie, it was freakin' great, as was the set closer, "The Dance". I did however leave before the encore which turned out to be "Ain't Goin' Down Till The Sun Comes Up". I was slightly sorry to miss that one but I feel like I got my money's worth and it was worth it to beat the traffic, both outgoing and incoming for the second show of the night.

Not ever having been a huge fan of Garth's, I still enjoyed having the chance to see him live, complete with headset mic and starched button down. He is indeed a great showman. It was also great to hear him proclaim "This night is about laughter and raisin' hell!" I was especially content to have gotten to see the first show of this run. I can only assume that the inevitable law of diminishing returns will take affect and the pure emotion felt on this night will fade. Sure he will still put on a great show, but there's no substitute for the feeling you get when you play for 20 thousand for the first time in a dozen or so years, even if they are still wearing the exact same huge belt buckles and boots they were wearing to Hillsboro Middle School all those years ago. Hopefully, two guitars will get smashed together at some point, maybe when Hiatt finds his way onstage.

Mile 8

Well, here we are again at Thanksgiving. For me, that means turkey, football, guns, and Mile 8 at Third and Lindsley. This year was the 8th annual, although not consecutive edition and it was one for the ages. The line up was again slightly altered but the spirit of Mile 8 was strong in the air. Jason "Dubbers" Williams from Old Union replaced Russell Wright on the bass, a role he has been taking on more and more regularly (in the Criminal Element) since Russ had a baby. Elsewhere, Jody Douglas and Chris West replaced Adam Livingston (from Boom Ticket) on sax. For whatever reason Adam couldn't get up for this one, whatever, I'll get to more of that in a minute. The rest of the core was there with Randy, Curt, Timmy and Bobby in their places and Caleb gracing us with his presence again on second guitar.

They started off with "Light" and the absent members were instantly missed. The bass was great, just different and the sax was, well, how much can you really miss sax anyway unless you're Dave Matthews or Bruce Springsteen, but the high vocals that Adam (from Boom Ticket) usually provided were noticeably AWOL, and that was the biggest shame. Timmy tried really hard to replace the parts, but his falsetto was no match for Adam's from-the-gut high harmonies. Moving on, I was surprised to see "Naked Christmas" so early in the show. I think it was about the fourth song, and it seemed like this one kind of fell flat on the still seemingly sleepy crowd, who apparently hadn't had enough booze to counteract the turkey. It's still always great to hear Mile 8's classic original carol. This was the feel of most of the first set, including "Afraid To Fall" and into the "Fog Juice"-"Touch Me" run featuring Bobby on vocals for the Doors classic and a set-ending jam section that kept peaking and peaking relentlessly until finally returning to the "Fog Juice" ending. This was one of the highlights for me, as this has always been one of my favorite Mile 8 songs. Randy was right, this crowd needed to drink faster.

They started off the second set with another annual tradition, having former member Neil Patrick Vance sit in on bass for the openers "For You" and "Leave The Woman". This prompted me to ask, "Why not ask Neil to play bass for the whole show?" Then I woke up and realized what a silly idea that was. The rest of the set was a mix between Timmy songs like "Collect" and "Stolen Song", and classic jam epics including a crazy seismic version of "Laugh On". That is, the rest of the Mile 8 portion of the set. After a delirious and manic version of "Elephlamingo", they took a deep breath and kicked off "Because", the opening number of the b-side of Abbey Road. Then they went into "You Never Give Me Your Money" and it became apparent that they were going to do the whole thing, and man, they nailed it. They rocked the rockers like "Mean Mr. Mustard" and "Polythene Pam", they crooned majestically on "Here Comes The Sun King" and "Golden Slumbers" and they ended the set with, well, "The End". What a great display of the talent of these guys. The people who were there went nuts and the poor saps that left early really missed something special.

The encore was just about as much fun for me as one person should be able to have. Although it was one of my favorite Mile 8 moments, it's all a blur to me, mostly because I was joining Bobby on the percussion. The songs consisted of my all time favorite "Chester Copperpot" and "Waste Away", both of which have really fun drum parts and took killer drum breaks. Man, what an awesome time. The energy in the second set and the encore was heads and shoulders above that in the first set, and the band proved that they still have that special thing we've all been diggin' on for the last decade, even if they only practice 4 times and play once a year. Each time they play, you get that feeling like, "this could be the last one", this night more than ever, but they still kill it and they never appear to stop having a blast. Randy and Caleb are still Batman and Robin on guitar, and Curt and Bobby are still Butch and Sundance on the drums. Timmy also deserves huge props for stepping up his vocals and adding truly original songs to the catalog. If there are any more shows, there's no telling what the roster will look like, but at this point, I'll take whatever I can get.

The Reverend Horton Heat

A few nights ago, after being the only fan at my own personal basement show, I headed over to the Rock Block for the much anticipated (by me) Reverend Horton Heat show at Exit In. I had seen them a few times, and I knew that they put on a rowdy party. What I wasn't quite sure of was what the openers, The Legendary Shack Shakers were like. I had heard of them but never seen a show.

When I got there, the Shack Shakers had just started and were already pounding the roomful of dark denim, leather jackets, and Betty Page lookalikes. Within the first few minutes of being there, lead singer Col. J.D. Wilkes was screaming "Normally I would play a screaming harp solo but I'm not doing anything till you guys get this ass hole outta here!" Then he jumped into the crowd and kicked the dude's drunk and disorderly ass before security gave him the Irish toss. All while I was still trying to get the bartender's attention. I could quickly tell that I was going to dig this. Col. Wilkes was a wild man up there like a mix of Iggy Pop, Johnny Rotten, and Elvis. He had a piercing howl and a menacing snarl and great stage moves like spitting loogies up in the air over his head and making devil horns with his hair. The rhythm section was like a machine gun with Mark Robertson on "The shit-house bass" and "Brutros Brutros Whitacre" on drums, looking like the youngster of the bunch. With pin-ups everywhere, a lawless mosh pit, and a blistering punk-billy band, I felt like I had already gotten my money's worth and that was just the opener. I am definitely a new fan of the Shack Shakers.



When the Reverend finally came out, he was a picture of underground rock supremacy. In contrast to the preceding band's no frills, white t-shirts and sweat, the Heat guys were pure class, with the Rev. in a vintage orange suit that matched his huge hollow bodied Gretch. They explained that they were celebrating their 25th anniversary and that the set would be in chronological order. They started off with an instrumental romp from the first album and continued on down the line. The Reverend's deadpan delivery is always fun to watch, the way he looks so serious, then flashes a cartoonish smile, then goes back to grim. After "Martini Time", they enlisted the aid of Ernest Tubb's longtime lap steel player for a couple of slow old-timey songs about Texas and then gave bass player Jimbo Wallace a shout-out with "J-I-M-B-O". At 1 a.m. when they said they were going to jump out of order for a few new songs, I was bushed and decided that I had had enough.

I went into this show excited to the the Heat and maybe check out the Legendary Shack Shakers. It turned out that I had a blast with the Shakers and got a bonus dozen songs from the Reverend. His show was fun and entertaining, complete with playing a solo from atop the stand-up bass, but the rawness and fury of the Shakers hit the spot. You know, that spot in everyone that only spitting, moshing, and drinking Pabst can hit.

Brendan Benson

Tonight I was really just out to make my football picks at the Gold Rush. After a few beers, I got up some liquid courage and decided to go try to sneak in to the Exit In for the show. I have been looking forward to this show but having just bought a car this week, I needed a miracle. Luckily, I lent a lighter to someone who recognized my Tigers hat and he happened to have a plus one for the show and he hooked me up. Brendan Benson for free? Sure. Can I buy you a beer?

Now, I know Brandon from his work with the Raconteurs and a couple other random, only in Nashville connections, so I have had this show on the radar for a while. I knew that this show, as much as I wanted it to be, wouldn't be anything close to the Raconteurs, but I also knew that Brendon could bring it on his own. His band was a true example of how a band can be so much better when they are all friends and have a great chemistry together.

I have to admit, I'm not very familiar with the catalog of this band, but I know that each song was a Brendan original and his songs are poppy rock gems. They bring plenty of sentimental la la, along with just enough raw rock and stardom that makes Brendan and the "Bent Sons" stand apart from the all powerful "Jack White" stronghold. Each member of the band was strong. From the bass player who switched to keys, to the lead guitarist who switched to bass, to the solid freight train drummer, the Bent Sons were up to the task of making these songs sound awesome. Apart from the obvious musical talent, these guys also had an unmistakable bond with each other that made the show a lot more comfortable and intimate. Their interaction with the crowd was also comforting and well received.

I gotta hand it to Brendan for doing his own thing without any mention of the Raconteurs or Jack or anything else, which would definitely help his cause just out of name recognition. He is playing his heart out in front of a hundred people at Exit In, when he could just as easily be playing for a hundred thousand at Bonnaroo or five hundred in Europe somewhere. His own works stand for themselves in an intimate setting making for another great night at the Exit In.

Johnny Neel and the Criminal Element

I know I see this band all the time, and I usually don't write about every show I see, but this one was worth writing home about. It took place last Wednesday night at Melrose Billiards, one of my favorite places in town to hang out, as well as one of the coolest places in all of Nashville. Lately they've been having live music on Wednesday nights with bands setting up in the very back section amongst the ping pong tables and along side the shuffle board. Although it's not ideal to be out late in a smokey bar on a hump-day, the vibe and the music were worth it.

They started off in pure Criminal form, making up the first two songs and going right into their shuffle version of The Beatles' "Get Back". This was how most of the night went. There was a ton of good ole Criminal improvising including one called "It's Not About Love, It's About You", along with some of the more popular polished favorites like "Mikey" and "Playin On The Tracks". Another such run of Criminal song salad was the reggae suite with "Closing In On You" going into Stevie's "Boogie On Reggae Woman" and then into a make up song that sounded just like the maybe-so-maybe-not jam section of Phish's "Stash". They even got guest guitarist Luke Davis up and he made up a blues riff that would make Stevie Ray Vaughn tip his big feathery hat. The third set started with Johnny playing "The Gift Of Song", one of his most popular solo songs, and then one more long jam with the band, the name of which escapes me. It was late.

The best part of this show was the old school feel to it. For the past few months, Johnny, Curt, and Randy have been playing pretty much the same show, four or five shows running, with a couple of different bass players and a marked decrease in improvising. At the pool hall, they were able to make up several quality songs and although Russell's lack of enthusiasm was sometimes as visible as the great wall of China from space, he was there and he played pretty awesome for someone who's firstborn just arrived last week. Elsewhere, Johnny was feeling it all night, getting stronger as the night got later, and later, and later. If they could make up songs like this on the regular, there would be no need to record these shows for ideas. This night was a fresh breath of Criminal air that has been needed from the slightly stale song selections of late. I hope they play at the old Melrose more, that place gives them something good.

Bob Dylan

Tonight was the night I've been looking forward to for a few weeks. Bob Dylan and His Band, not to be confused with "The" band, played at Nashville's old barn, the Municipal Auditorium. I've seen Bobby a few times, in venues ranging from big festival downtown, to small club in Detroit, to Starwood, but something told me I had to see this one. I'm glad I went.

I knew my usual ticket finding hustle would be hard pressed with the crowd being a little older, and boy were they, but I also know never to give up hope until about an hour after showtime. Luckily I ran into a friend with a college I.D. that was more than happy to get me a discounted student ticket. I was walking up to my seat in the upper deck when the lights went down and the Man was introduced, with words like Poet Laureate and Generation and so forth.

He came out big with "Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat" and the only song from The Band's era, "This Wheel's On Fire", which was the highlight of the night for me. I noticed right off the bat that this particular venue might not be the best to see this act. Being that you really had to focus on the lyrics and chord progression to figure out what song was actually being played, the muddy mix and all around echo chasm of the Muni, combined with Bob's gravelly delivery, made it hard to make out some of the songs.

After a men's break during "Stuck Inside Of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again", it was "Just Like A Woman", which again took me until the hook to realize which song it was. Up next was an abbreviated "Tangled Up In Blue" and "Rollin' and Tumblin'", which rocked out pretty hard. The rest of the set, excluding "Highway 61 Revisited" and the closer "Ballad Of A Thin Man", were songs I didn't recognize, but were great all the same, as I got down to the front row for a few minutes. The encore consisted of "Jolene", which again I didn't recognize and I'm pretty sure wasn't the Dolly Parton hit, and "Like A Rolling Stone", which I'm pretty sure is the one of the biggest Dylan hits out there. Then they all lined up like bands usually do for a bow, but there was no bow. It was just them soaking in all the applause and then poof, they bolted. No bow. None needed. For the complete set list, click here.

Imagine going to a show put on by an act that you have been listening to in one way or another for your whole life. You know a huge amount of the catalog, but when the band starts playing, even your favorite songs, it takes you a few minutes to figure out which song it actually is, due to completely different arrangements and mumble-sang words. But you love it anyway because you've heard these songs a million times and a different take on them is not necessarily a bad thing. Then you catch the groove and you can kind of sing along and then you can say you saw Dylan play a Band song in Nashville. Even having seen Bob a handful of times, it was still an honor and a pleasure to see this living legend again. Whether he's playing his organ keyboard, harmonica, Strat, or just singing empty handed, he's still putting on a great show after doing it for damn near 50 years.

J.J. Grey and Mofro

This year's weekly free outdoor concert series Live On The Green built on last year's solid foundation. With bands such as Dr. Dog, The Wailers, Five For Fighting, and Band of Horses, the scene got bigger and the crowds swelled. Sorry to say, I missed most of the shows but I did make it to the finale featuring J.J. Grey and Mofro and Ivan Neville's Dumpstaphunk. It was a perfect cool clear night for seeing free live music downtown.

With my backpack full of aluminum bottles that matched the beer vendors, I parked for free and walked the 8 blocks downtown towards the resonating funk. I arrived a few songs into Dumpstaphunk's set. This five piece from New Orleans was led by Ivan Neville, son of R&B superstar Aaron Neville. Their lineup included Ivan on B-3 and clavinet, Ian Neville on guitar, a bass player, a drummer, and a guy who switched back and forth between guitar and bass. I love the concept of two bass players. With Ivan on the clav, and both basses going, the funk meter, so to speak, was off the charts, which wasn't a surprise with that much Neville on stage. It seemed to come so naturally to them. I loved it when they introduced the next song as a "love song" and then busted into another complete funk fest instead of the usual slow sleeper. Then they went totally New Orleans when they invited about 20 ladies onstage for a number whose lyrics consisted mostly of "shake yo' sexy booty". This band was a lot of fun and in my mind, stole the show from Mofro.

That's not to say that J.J. and company didn't put on a helluva show. Grey came out with his usual saunter and played a really fun set, mostly consisting of songs off of his newest release Georgia Warhorse. The ever evolving lineup of the band included Derek Trucks' bass player Andrew Trube and the Hercules Horn Section. Daryl Hance was great on electric guitar but I gotta say that was the worst tone I have ever heard out of a Les Paul. I guess that's what you get when you run a Gibson through a Fender amp. I didn't think it was possible but that thing sounded less like a Les Paul and more like a Fender Strato-Tele-Mustang-caster, which is always a shame. The high end was ear splitting and the attack sounded like a kitten with a ball of string. Come on professional guitarists, get your gear straight. Anyway, the Florida based swamp rock driven by fat bass lines, a super-tight minimalist drummer, and heavy keyboards behind J.J.'s raspy voice and harmonica got the crowd fired up and into a sort of a "Mardi Gras meets Spring Break" atmosphere. Grey covered topics ranging from his "Gramomma's Cookin" to keeping development and high rises out of his home swamp land, two topics that I can totally relate to and support.

J.J. Grey and Mofro have been around in one form or another since the late 90's. I've seen them a few times and every time was a blast. J.J. knows how to connect with his peeps, whether he's playing guitar, harp, or just singing, it's like he's playing a field party in the swamp with all his buddies and a keg. I never really got into his records but the live shows are always worth an eight block hike with a backpack full of beer.