By: Andrea Myers
I wasn't quite sure what to expect when I saw Jim Walsh's MySpace bulletin, which was posted Friday afternoon, advertising a hootenanny for that very evening. The information in the bulletin was short and sweet: "All ages. Hootenanny. Round-robin. 6:30-8:30. Java Jack's, 46th and Bryant, sexy South Mpls. BYOFlask." Oh, and the bulletin name-dropped a certain member of the Jayhawks. At a coffee shop.
I was very intrigued.
Having missed the last two performances by The Mad Ripple (aka Walsh) due to various frustrating circumstances, and having thoroughly enjoyed his new solo album, Sink and/or Swim, I was looking forward to finally catching the Ripple in action. Armed with a sense of adventure and my husband, we navigated our way to South Minneapolis in search of Java Jack's. When we pulled up outside, I peered excitedly into the coffee shop only to be greeted with a view of a totally empty storefront and one bored barrista standing behind the counter. This doesn't look good, I thought to myself. There wasn't even a deserted guitar case in sight.
We ordered coffees and took a seat at a table near the back, hoping that the show was just running behind schedule. Before long, Mr. Walsh himself ambled out from the hallway leading to the bathroom and smiled when he saw us waiting at our table. "Head on downstairs, guys," he said with a sly grin, and my husband and I looked at each other nervously. "It's like an opium den down there. Totally weird."
Letting my husband lead the way, we traipsed downstairs, rounded a corner, and were greeted by a long, narrow room that resembled a church basement that had been made over by hippy coeds. Colorful blankets were draped over the concrete walls, a piece of plank wood and some milk crates had been converted into a makeshift stage, and some rickety wooden bistro tables and chairs that looked to have been pulled out of someone's attic were set up around the room. Though I didn't see it, my husband claims he saw a mouse skitter out from underneath the stage; he may have been trying to rile me up but I wouldn't have been surprised.
In this intimate space, there was no slipping in and out unnoticed, and as the musicians took their places up on the stage they often greeted friends and family entering the room. Most attendees (of whom there were only a handful at first, and at most only about 20) had a sort of confused, awestruck look on their faces, especially those who entered once the music had started.
The stage was set up with a simple row of four chairs -- no microphones, no amps. The four musicians seated on stage were, from left to right: Phil Bayer (Hank and Ruth, Modern Day Saints), Marc Perlman (yes, that Marc Perlman), Janie Winterbauer (Astronaut Wife) and Walsh. Each took a turn playing a song, mostly originals, before handing off performance duties to the next one down the line; it was a true hootenanny and it was truly captivating.
Walsh played a good spread of songs from his album and a few new numbers, including a hilarious song about a "death bed wife" that was only half finished, but still got the audience giggling. An endearing rendition of "Homebodies (Don't be Careful with your Love)" featured Walsh's sister, Molly, on accompanying vocals, and the two singers meshed together nicely in a straight-ahead, no-frills, honest kind of way. As Molly sang, her infant, cared for by Walsh's wife and daughter, was in the audience and another little boy danced in front of the stage in that goofy sort of way that only a kid can, with limbs jerking akimbo and a smile that spread from ear to ear. There was such a community feel to the evening that it was hard to remember that these were all well-known and experienced performers, some of whom have reached iconic status in the eyes of local music lovers (ahem, Perlman).
"So Marc, tell me this," quipped Walsh between songs. "You've played in the Jayhawks. You've traveled the world. You've played on stages in every major continent. How does it feel to play the basement of Java Jack's in South Minneapolis?"
"It's probably my scariest performance yet," Perlman admitted, and the small audience laughed appreciatively. It was a pretty nerve wracking setting -- the audience sat still and quietly took in the meanings of each songs, contrary to most louder bar or club shows, and every little mistake was aired for the room to see. Perlman sang softly and timidly at first, and quickly resigned the vocal duties to Winterbauer as he concentrated on strumming the chords of his new songs. It was odd, and somehow comforting, to see such an established musician fumble a bit, and it was refreshing to hear that he has produced some stirring, emotional work of his own since the Jayhawks disbanded. Rumor has it that Perlman is working on a solo debut, and Winterbauer is a contributing vocalist on his new disc. The songs were pensive, moody and a bit depressing (prompting the other musicians to jab Perlman for being so serious), but the truth was that his new material displays his talent for writing heartbreakingly good music. The crowd hung on his every word.
In contrast to Walsh, Perlman and Winterbauer, who presented slower and quieter tunes, Phil Bayer showed off his ability to rev up the energy with some foot-stomping, up-tempo folk. For many of the songs he accompanied himself on harmonica, and his subtly scratchy voice projected clearly and crisply. He sang about women loved from afar, women loved from up close, and women in general, and my favorite song featured a great chorus that compared a girl to a glass of whiskey and had him yelling and stomping up a storm.
Near the end of the night (which was only a little after 8:00) Walsh started plucking musicians out of the audience and inviting them to join in the fun. Perlman and Winterbauer exited to give way to Jeaneen Gauthier, who sang three lovely songs that she wrote fairly recently. I have always been a fan of Gauthier's work in her band, Jan, and look forward to hearing the songs come into fruition and find their way onto her next album. To finish off the night, Stook! took the stage and sang an all-too-appropriate hootenanny closer, "A Song is More than Just a Song," and the audience clapped appreciatively for an unusual night of intimacy, musical nudity and raw creative energy.
The Mad Ripple Hootenannys will take place every Friday evening in November at Java Jack's in South Minneapolis. See myspace.com/madripplemusic for more details.
Photo of The Mad Ripple by Steven Cohen.
Location Info:
Java Jack's
Artist Info: Janey Winterbauer, Jim Walsh, Marc Perlman, Phil Bayer
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