By: Jen Paulson
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| Ike Reilly - Photo by Alexa Jones (click for set) |
Amidst all the tricked-out motorcycles and the two-block radius of its three drinking establishments, the area around The Cabooze should have it's own zip code. For all I know it may have its own solar system. It's a different kind of atmosphere and attitude. Outside of the club, the marquee read "Ike Reilly Assination," minus the second ass in the word. Add that to an endearingly drunken sing-along out on the sidewalk by a couple of the bar's regulars, and we had endless amusement as we stood outside waiting for the bands to start.
I caught three-fourths of White Light Riot's set. I haven't jumped totally onto their bandwagon yet. But I'm definitely on the side of the road, putting serious thought into taking the leap. They have a lot going for them. Their songs are strong, put together well with proficient musicianship and on stage they have a great, bombastic energy. They also have an ever-increasing, devoted fan base, shown by the masses of people making their way to the front in drones. I would suggest a new listener hear them live and then segue comfortably into their new album, Atomism, which, coincidentally, had a very successful CD release show at the Fine Line last weekend.
Maybe it was the anticipation, but the time in between White Light Riot and Ike Reilly seemed to literally take forever. After the venue brought the lights down and I thought it was about to start a few times, I started getting restless and antsy. I propped myself away from the packed crowd on an elevated ledge and found a good view as Ike and the band finally took the stage, launching right into "8 Days Until The 4th of July." Having only seen him once before in the basement of the south Minneapolis coffee shop Java Jacks for one of the Mad Ripple Hootenannies, it was absolutely imperative that I saw this man in concert. From the low-key comfort of my seasonal, subterranean Friday night home to the amped, high-intensity buzz of his live show, it was just what I needed to clear my brain from a workweek-exhausted fog.
From my perch, I watched the crowd mouth the words to all of his songs, and throw up their hands and pump their fists into the air in exaltation of his rock-and-roll soul. The man is in a league of his own, a league of musicians that still have the same fiery, trouble making spirit that is lacking these days, and he makes music that is exciting for those people like myself that rock out day after day in our cubes. Even if Ike is a father and husband and probably a generally responsible adult in reality—what do we know? Don't tell me. His performance of "Valentine's Day in Juarez" can attest to this possible hard-living, a track that makes your head bob with its poppy beat and grocery list of illegal substances.
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| Ike Reilly - Photo by Alexa Jones |
As we all spent time on the edge of the West Bank, Barack Obama had been a couple miles away at International Market Square. Reilly played "Duty Free" off his album Salesmen and Racists, and mentioned that Obama was using it on his campaign. This was an interesting revelation, and news to me. With some of his songs as outspokenly political as they are, this was surely fitting, though I might want to question it slightly because of its "I've gotta get out of the USA" sentiment. However, with a large portion of Americans feeling similarly and the true state of the union, it is thematic perfection.
Did I mention that the joint was crazy? (No, not the place next door called "The Joint.") After handing off his his guitar to his tech during "Hip Hop Thighs #17," he would turn on the Ike Reilly charm full strength, complete with a confident swagger and a hand-on-hip Jagger prance. A giant Red Stripe in one hand and and the mic in the other, he splashed some of the ale onto the crowd, to be met moments later with a beer splash from the crowd right into his face. The abruptness caused him to let out a surprised and slightly amused "Hey!" Is this the kind of raucousness that leads the obsessive base that is Ike Reilly fandom?
After the show I actually heard someone proudly say that some of his beer hit them, as if it were some sort of barroom baptism. And that, my friends—after two encores and multiple chanting sessions of his name, and a bar floor scattered with booze and broken glass—is exactly why Rock and Roll is not dead. You just might not be looking hard enough.
Location Info:
Cabooze
Artist Info: Ike Reilly
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