By: Nancy Jane Meyer
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Jessy Greene performs at Mario's. Photo by Jesse Stensby (click for larger image)
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It's a Brand New Day, and a Brand New Band for Jessy Greene
With Hieruspecs members Devon Gray (keys), Sean McPherson (bass) and Peter Leggett (drums) as her new backing ensemble, Greene has reinvented her sound, bringing her vocal and violin melodies out front, where they are lifted by McPherson's buoyant bass and Legget's tight triphop rhythms. Gray's keyboard stylings are intuitive and subtle, almost haunting at times, never overlapping the violin lines or vocals. According to Greene, this is the musical incarnation she has been searching for, after spinning her wheels for the past year or so in what became a restrictive, rock guitar-based world that limited the musical potential and scope of her songs. If this show is any indication of what her next album is going to sound like, I would expect Greene to receive a nomination in the MMA best album category, (she won for Best "Other" Instrumentalist in '03) based on the diversity and strength of new material and the notable talent and chemistry of her new group.
Kicking off the set was an urban hiphop-style instrumental, with racing violin and keyboard arpeggios in unison, evoking something like the ominous threat of a storm or an air raid—(fortunately, Mario's is like being in a musical bomb shelter) a mood that was augmented further by Greene switching to guitar for "Dirty Lover," a somber, crunchy lament littered with rotten, black-skinned fruit, a sweet friendship gone rancid. The black clouds then abated with the optimistic "Brand New Day," and "Laughing," from the Blue Sky CD, followed by new material, "Everybody Knows" and "Another Day," songs which sound edgier, more reminiscent of PJ Harvey than derivative of the lounge/torch song feel of "Sad Paradise," which came next in the set. I must admit, I love the early demo version of this song with Dave Pirner's backing vocals, but I'm glad that Gray's keys are now in where the guitar/cello used to be in the tenuous, Nick Cave-spooky half-step walkdown intro-theme.
The evolution of the new material perhaps reflects a more emphatic self-confidence in her trajectory as a songwriter and performer, particularly given the talent and potential of this new group. Jessy Greene undeniably has that star quality, that electric onstage charisma that gets people talking (or in the case of adolescent "journalists," drooling: you can read the archived CP article in which the salivating interviewer, one hand firmly in his front pants pocket, makes numerous references, to the near exclusion of other relevant content, that Greene is one hot chic. We've come a long way, baby. Sigh.) Despite some minor setbacks at this particular show, which I will recount below, if Jessy Greene does not hit the "big time" in 2004, with some serious critical acclaim, major record sales, and a national tour, I swear I will eat my fake fur hat, a Dido CD, and a copy of that CP article.
As promised, back to the show: the performer's worst fear—the loitering, tipsy, sing-along guy to the left side of the stage, la-la-la-ing along to "I Won't Be Waiting," one of the best of Greene's new song book (with a brilliant McPherson bass line that sticks in the low, deep recesses of your mind like salt-water taffy for hours afterwards.) I call him Larry the Lunger, a tall, blonde, goofy glitter-shirted benign menace. Devon Gray, sitting at his Rhodes keyboard, eyed him suspiciously, and was ready to jump to Greene's defense. A true professional, Jessy maintained forward focus, but shifted her balance to her left black platform boot in case she had to make a break for it. It was only a matter of moments before Larry lunged clumsily onto the stage towards the object of his desire, only to be apprehended by Mario's minions and dragged away.
My impressions of this show are in part informed by Friday's show at the 400 Bar, where Greene + 3H opened for Iffy—despite that it was only the second public outing, I think that it was more impressive and electric performance, and the crowd much more receptive. It's hard to maintain a high level of energy as a performer at Mario's, even when you are the captivating Jessy Greene, when half the crowd (which oddly consisted of quite a motley crew, everyone from Suburb's frontman Chan Poling to the hair flippin' coeds who keep Pabst in the black to Sursumcorda impresario Dave Wesley) is talking loudly in the other room at the bar half the time, and the stage is too dark and shadowy to really see the musicians. Compared to the shimmering silver tinsel banners which hung about the 400 Bar stage like magic icicles around the opening of a mysterious cave, Mario's frat house rumpus room atmosphere is less conducive to Greene's vibe.
However, as I eavesdropped on conversations around me, the overall audience response to Greene's music was quite positive; in particular, I overheard the man next to me say that this was "actually something new"; he seemed to be a cynical veteran of the 4-man band of the garage rock scene that is pervasive in this town, sometimes to the unfortunate degree of over-amped saturation. I would go further to say that this show represents lounge rock-influenced pop-a-tronica, written, played and sung by a violinist/multi-instrumentalist, innovative in the first place, now reimagined with new vision, a brave fusion of hiphop rhythms, Kurt Weillian performance aesthetics and pop melodia—new, indeed. It also represents the evolution and growth of an artist who has learned much from her years of fruitful collaboration with bands and solo artists of varied styles, from Himmelman to the Geraldine Fibbers to Golden Smog, and risen above the fray to invent her own unique musical and songwriting style.
2003 was good to Jessy Greene, who played with REM at the Xcel, with Wilco at the Hollywood Bowl and on the Tonight Show, and with the Minus Five on Late Night with David Letterman, in addition to a bevy of local radio show and live concert events. She also released her debut solo record to some critical acclaim, though far less than Blue Sky deserved.
Reviewer's recommendation: go see Greene and her new band now before they are snapped up by an illustrious national act for a long European tour, which would, regrettably, take this "new" thing and one of the most exciting and talented performers in Minneapolis much too far away from us.
Telephone opened. They were the reincarnation of some sort of surreal two-turntable bad dream I had once in which a really loud, perky brunette dressed in tight white clothes wearing black bumblebee shades shouted at me through a mic in a very bad phony British accent, demanding that I get excited about gimmicky phone-themed nursery rhymes set to the worst of the b-side Human League instrumentals. I guess it was supposed to be kitchy fun. Or something. And somewhere, David Bowie is sobbing—"Fame" has now been officially vocally throttled, recklessly sampled and phonically molested within an inch of its brilliant origin. Initially, I was just going to say that they opened and leave it at that, but the mental anguish lingers, and had to be released. I hope I am able to forgive them for the pain they have caused me.
Location Info:
Mario's Keller Bar
Artist Info: Jessy Greene, Telephone
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