Seattle Subsonic

Mannequin BBQ, Dirty Harry, and People Eating People at the Skylark Cafe

April 25th, 2011

I got back from San Francisco late Thursday night and after a week of solitude in the city and wine tasting in Napa, I was in need of some live music, overdue for a dose in fact as it’d been over a week since I’d been to a show, over a week since I’d seen Ólöf Arnalds, and though it was beautiful, that was a quiet show, and in the process of writing about it, I’d listened to her CD for the entirety of my trip. Back in Seattle, I needed music that grooved, rhythms that created pockets over which vocal and solo could dance. I was tired though, too much wine all week perhaps, so I didn’t want to drive far. That meant the Skylark Cafe over here in West Seattle.

The Skylark is fast becoming my regular haunt for a little bit of the unknown and unexpected in the music of this city. Plus the sound man knows what he’s doing. That always helps. Friday evening then, I hopped in the car and headed over to see what musical offerings were on tap. There were three: Mannequin BBQ, People Eating People, and The Stevedore.

I got situated at the end of the bar, ordered a Mannys Pale Ale and hoped for a musical treat as Mannequin BBQ took the stage. Their website says, “Three Hot Chicks and Some Microphones.” I had to agree they looked good, and I wondered how things would play out as there were only three women but on stage there was a guitar, a bass, drums, a keyboard, and an accordion. The first song was accordion, drums, and keys and started with the accordion wheezing a bit, two vocals, and spare beat. And it was the highlight of their set. After that things just got confusing.

Over the course of their set, the woman who started on accordion went to the bass and then drums and then keys and then drums and the keys again, I think. I lost score after a while. The other band members did the same. I wasn’t sure who really played what. They shouted “Fire drill!” at intervals between songs and all of them would switch instruments. It would have been very cool, but for one thing, none of them were bass players, and the rhythms were lacking. There was no pocket. They were trying to do too much. It seemed they could all play piano well as there were some cool parts on that instrument and a few good solos, but their efforts at drums (and they all took turns there) were hesitant, their bass sounds shy.

At one point, one of them, I can’t remember which one or where she started the night, wound up behind the drums with a guitar in her hands trying to strum chords and keep a rhythm at the same time. It didn’t work. I wrote in my notes, “Just because you can play all those instruments doesn’t mean you should.” Sure, they can all play piano, but for live shows I hope they choose one amongst them to be the bass player, one to be the drummer, and then concentrate on improving such. While I was in San Francisco, I caught a Dirty Harry movie on TV in the hotel room, and Harry at one point chided a superior officer by saying, “A good man knows his limits.” A good musician too.

I considered leaving after their set as I was still tired from the trip, but I decided to stick it out. Tired though I was, I’d agreed to write about the show, and I still wanted rhythms, grooves, and pockets. I ordered yet another Mannys and wrote, “People Eating People … cool name” in my notebook. As they were setting up their drums, the PEP drummer whacked the snare a few times, stomped on the kick pedal. The difference was immeasurable. I wrote, “here’s a drummer!” in my notebook and knew they would be better.

And they were…

Their first song was “Straight Lines”. Two keyboards, bass and drums. No spare instruments about. The song had a sparse rhythm, but it was tight. Words like “solid” came to mind. And thud. And unison. And the vocal soared over top. There was build up, dynamics, release, build up again. They played as a band, Again, the difference was more than a little noticeable. The second song had a verse dominated by the keyboards and another sparse but tight rhythm. The singer, Nouela Johnston, had a voice that was reminiscent of Regina Spektor at times, especially over bouncy piano sounds. That is to say I liked the voice. It was strong when it needed to be, or soft. She didn’t just sing well. She had confidence on stage. It carried through. And as the set went on, the pocket was always there with the bass and drums so that the keys and vocals on top could do their thing with ease and grace and power. The drummer at times reminded me of Bun E. Carlos at the beginning of “Ain’t That A Shame” in the way he rode the kick and added fills, especially in “Building Armor”, arguable my favorite PEP song.

The only let down of the set was the closer, “Rain, Rain”. I liked the song, but it just didn’t serve as a finale. It wasn’t big or powerful enough, especially after coming right after “I Hate All My Friends,” arguably my other favorite PEP tune. Well, “Straight Lines” too. Yes, I liked the band.

After the set, I was satisfied. I was glad I didn’t give in to the tiredness of traveling for a week in California. Nothing quite like music to rejuvenate the body, mind, and soul. The Stevedore was coming on, but I felt good. I felt like writing, not listening. I felt like playing bass, not listening. So I paid my tab, got a set list from the PEP bass player, and after making mental apologies to The Stevedore, went home to do such.

Dave