XL WEEKEND REVIEWS

Rascal Flatts, 'Have You Ever Been Assassinated?' Florida vs. Austin, 'Classic Beauty,' Debussy, Savion Glover, 'Acoustic Africa,' The Shells, James Hunter

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Country music

COUNTRY'S SUPERSTAR TRIO LIGHTS UP THE ERWIN CENTER

Last week, the Erwin Center hosted a cascade of pyrotechnics, a lash-up of video screens that NASA would envy, a hydraulic crane that ran the length of the building, oceans of confetti, and, oh yeah, a band. Such is what passes for the state of the art in country music these days.

The band was Rascal Flatts, the trio whose six-year tenure has left a trail of gold and platinum albums, No. 1 singles and industry awards in its wake.

Led by Gary LeVox, a burly guy with a vintage Brian Bosworth 'do who possesses an unexpectedly angelic voice that splits the difference between tenor and baritone, the trio (including designated heartthrob Joe Don Rooney on guitar and Jay DeMarcus on bass, drums, piano, guitar and whatever else he could get his hands on) took an easygoing route over the course of two hours that included plenty of kibitzing, solo turns in the spotlight and a dozen variations on "ain't-it-great-to-be-in-Texas!" — while still allowing plenty of time for the group's array of hits.

The band's set negotiated between ballads ("Feels Like Today," "I Melt," "Skin (Sarabeth)" and the blowout hit "Bless the Broken Road") and crowd-pleasing rockers, including "Where You Are," "Me and My Gang" and "Here's To You." The trio seems far from jaded, and the largely female crowd seemed more than satisfied by the time the confetti flew.

— John T. Davis

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Theater

RUDE'S LATEST GOOD, BUT NOT GREAT

The latest creation from the ever-clever Rude Mechanicals, "Have You Ever Been Assassinated?" at the Off Center, has plenty going for it. For starters, there's an engaging premise: vaudeville as a lens through which America historically described its multiple cultural identities. All the racial and ethnic stereotyping that percolated in popular entertainments — and still does — left a lasting mark on the country's definition of itself, after all.

That was enough to get the Rudes thinking and workshopping, and Rebecca Beegle to take charge of writing a script. Director Carlos Treviño molded it into an attention-grabbing 80-minute production that whips along through an imagined last day of vaudeville in Austin, as a troupe of performers confronts a complex newcomer in their midst — and also their own demise.

Treviño extracts razor-smart performances from the ensemble cast. Indeed, just their sheer physicality impresses: Leilah Stewart's ingenious set of scaffolding and platforms arranged as a theater backstage area became a veritable jungle gym as actors hurtled themselves around.

Alas, muscular acting, impressive physicality, an innovative set, Buzz Moran's usual good sound effects and a spot-on score from Graham Reynolds don't all add up, in the end, to a fully accomplished show.

What was missing was a script that could reach beyond its own experiments with language, get past its own self-referenced cleverness and insider jokes to reach the audience. After all, enjoyable as the entertainments can be, without the audience, there's no show.

("Have You Ever Been Assassinated?" continues 8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays at the Off Center, 2211-A Hidalgo St. $12-$15. 476-RUDE. www.rudemechs.com.)

— Jeanne Claire van Ryzin

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Garage punk

A LOUD WEEKEND ON RED RIVER

It was one of those weekends. To paraphrase the Rolling Stones, autumn's here, and the time is right for touring in the clubs, boy. OK, that was pretty tortured, but the Stones were a big part of the music that saturated Red River Street on Friday and Saturday nights.

Not only were locals still jabbering about the Stones show, but as a British band that got famous trying to build a rock 'n' roll vocabulary out of the blues, the Stones are garage rock's root integer. The Stones rewired Chicago blues, then '60s garage bands tried to ape the Stones and mutated the stuff even further, creating this feral subgenre that just refuses to die.

It helps when clubs like Beerland (and its booker Max Dropout) throw shindigs such as the Florida vs. Austin showdown, featuring garage punk bands from both states. Sadly, with Stubb's drawing huge crowds for the big-name punk band Thursday (on Friday) and Robert Randolph the next night, big shows at Emo's and Halloween parties taking everyone's time, the audience was limited to hardcore garage fans. Too bad.

Austin's Teeners kicked off Friday night with the evening's gnarliest guitar sounds — all feedback and swagger — including garage vet Lisa DiRocco's primal drums and singer Johnny Vomitnoise's trashy R&B thrash. The Hibatchi Stranglers, from Alabama, played the tightest set and managed to confuse everyone with a guitar-bass-drums trio that sounds like two guitars playing completely different stuff. Still not sure how they did that.

On Saturday night, the garage thrash continued at Beerland, with Denton's Wax Museums cranking up the fuzz while Florida's Jeanie and the (other word for breasts) howled and screamed. There even was some local action down at Mohawk, where the pop-ish Red Leaves opened for the loose garage punk of White Denim.

Over at Emo's, Austin's Voxtrot, which is pretty much the opposite of both thrashing and R&B, played its effete indie pop to a packed outdoor stage. But the real action was indoors, where King Kahn and BBQ served up the weekend's most brilliant show. A two-man band of with Kahn on guitar and BBQ doing the one-man-band thing on drums and guitar, they managed to embody the spirit everyone else was aspiring to. This was R&B as junked up soul, Kahn working his guitar (the same model that trash-blues titan Hound Dog Taylor used) like he was possessed by the soul (or at least the hands) of Chuck Berry, BBQ stomping, strumming and crooning all at once.

Keith Richards, your heirs are calling.

— Joe Gross

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Ballet

AUSTIN COMPANY SHOWS ITS 'CLASSIC BEAUTY'

As part of its "Classic Beauty" program, Ballet Austin proved Friday at Bass Concert Hall that it is a company, not just an assemblage of individual dancers. The 17 women who make up the corps of George Balanchine's "Serenade" moved as one, pulsing with Tchaikovsky's score.

Balanchine made "Serenade" to teach young dancers the art of ballet. A quiet section for five women illustrated how bodies come to understand one another. As each woman softly offered her hand to the next and then walked quietly among the tunnel of arms, the audience peered into the tenderest of connections.

Among the principals, Allisyn Paino nailed the Russian Girl role, whipping through high jumps and sticking balances. Aara Krumpe's lush upper body gave Dark Angel emotional complexity. Gina Patterson waltzed with aplomb, though her attack sometimes wavered. In the final moment, Patterson intermingled sadness with hope. Her chest and arms depress, then bloom radiantly, leaving open interpretation of her character's ascension skyward.

The other half of the program, Sleeping Beauty's Act III, was a montage of variations ranging from enchanting to sloppy. In a pas de deux with Frank Shott, the graceful Ashley Lynn earned the right to wear every bit of gold on her costume. Many men could not negotiate their variations' technical demands, but Matthew Cotter as the Wolf had lovely long lines. As the White Cat and Puss 'n' Boots, Anne Marie Melendez and Paul Michael Bloodgood flip-flopped their heads and hands with adorable comedic timing.

The live orchestra, conducted by Peter Bay, added much to both pieces.

— Clare Croft

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Opera

DEBUSSY NIGHT A TREAT AT UT

Claude Debussy's one completed opera, "Pellèas et Mèlisande," isn't on the program, but the University of Texas Butler Opera Center's evening of Debussy does make a nice Halloween treat.

Conductor David Neely skillfully led the full UT Symphony spread out on the stage behind the McCullough Theater proscenium, with the action taking place on a raked platform placed over the pit. For the first time in my experience in that room, the balance between voices and orchestra was right.

Robert DeSimone's usually economical staging, Christopher McCollum's spare scenic design and John Ore's lighting were sensitive to the particular needs of each piece.

The three "Songs of Bilitis" opened the show Sunday evening with mezzo-soprano Alta Dantzler making some lovely sounds but looking ill at ease.

For the early cantata, "The Prodigal Son," the title role was taken by tenor Gerardo Ramos, who has underwhelmed me in the past, but who from the moment he stepped onto the platform possessed the space and effectively used his voice, his body and especially his face to create a credible character.

The main piece was "The Fall of the House of Usher," a single act left incomplete by Debussy and "realized" and orchestrated by Robert Orledge. The appropriately histrionic cast was headed by David Small as the doomed Roderick Usher, with William Lewis as a doctor, Phillip Hill as a friend, and Julie-Ann Hamula as Lady Madeline. By the end of this creepy little piece, you'll think they're all loony.

— David Mead

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Tap

GLOVER SHOWS WHY HE'S THE BEST

Tap straddles the line between dance and music, and no one can match Savion Glover's ability to manipulate the space between the two. Sometimes tapping so quickly his foot became impossible to see, Glover wowed a packed audience at UT's Hogg Auditorium on Tuesday night. Accompanied by a 12-member orchestra, Glover stomped, stamped and tip-toed across well-known classical compositions ranging from Bach to Shostakovitch. With the exception of a stunningly long, 30-minute introduction of the musicians, the evening hit high after high, Glover proving why he is today's best known tap artist.

Bach seemed the most unlikely match for marriage with tap dancing, but as Glover beat out a haunting, hollow rhythm the baroque "Orchestral Suite No. 2 in B Minor" grew heavy, resounding with mystery. Most of the evening featured only string instruments, but as Glover turned his back to the audience and beat his boots, the percussive line of compositions such as Vivaldi's "Concerto No. 2 in G Minor" and Dvorak's "Opus 96" emerged. Glover's incorporation of tap into classical music reminds us that the underlying rhythmic, percussive pulse always exists, whether we listen to it or not.

A pianist and drummer joined the string ensemble for the closing number, Glover's own "Stars and Stripes Forever 4 Now." Though Glover's comfort with the earlier music was amazing, jazz is clearly his tapping home. As "My Favorite Things" exploded from the piano, Glover's entire body flew into motion, riding along atop the most talented set of feet in the United States.

— Clare Croft

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Acoustic music

MAGICAL MUSICAL NIGHT FROM AFRICA

Habib Koite, Vusi Mahlasela and Dobet Gnahore, three of Africa's most prominent singers/musicians, came to the University of Texas's Hogg Auditorium on Saturday night for a program called "Acoustic Africa" and delighted a full house with wonderful rhythms and soulful singing.

Vibrantly colored banners of African landscape served as backdrop, and multicolored tapestries covered the different tiers of the stage. The varied musical instruments ranged from the xylophone to the harmonica — a truly unusual musical mixture.

Vusi Mahlasela opened the performance with his clean, crisp, classical-style guitar playing fortified with complex African rhythms that has created a sound he can call his own. Mahlasela's voice is warm and deceptively low. He periodically hit spine-chilling high notes, and his embracing voice proved the language barrier irrelevant.

Habib Koite plays with a rebel rock style and a conducts himself with a stage presence comparable to Marley. Alternate tunings give his guitar a sitar-like, eastern sound and liven up his African rhythms a tasteful twist. A South African blues tribute combining African music and traditional blues was the peak of his performance. Koite and Mahlasela sang the blues inspired by South African draught.

Dobet Gnahore's powerful vocals set her apart. Her Ivory Coast pop style consisted of Afro-Cuban beats laced with powerful melodies and wild dancing. Her African dance moves were violent and changed my definition of what was humanly possible — truly a jaw-dropping treat.

— David Amend

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Indie rock

MIXED BAG OF SHELLS AT EMO'S

Austin's the Shells started slow at Emo's late Thursday night and finished slower. It's never a good sign when the band goes on two hours after the time that was posted on its MySpace page — a 2-point deduction for tardiness from the onset. Beyond the blatant disregard for punctuality, the Shells showcased an indie-rock-meets-country style mixed with nuances of early Tom Petty.

I couldn't help but wonder which shell the band represented. So, I figure I'll narrow down the possibilities by correlating specific shells to the band's sound.

A shotgun shell is probable with the twangy, honky-tonk influence, but the act is too benign to associate with the explosion of an ammunition cartridge. The performance was powerful in the sense that directed bass-heavy and feedback-ridden buzz at dozens of people who remained for the late show.

Maybe a seashell would work for a symbol, but the group's upbeat, fast-paced indie-rock rhythms were too frenetic to compare to the pleasant hum of the ocean. The nervous stage presence of the revolving vocalists, who ultimately struggled to maintain pitch, made the show even more awkward. More shell-shocked than anything else.

The Shells deserve a happy compromise for a name — so perhaps a pistachio shell. It's smooth, tasty; difficult to crack but mildly entertaining, occasionally producing a shriveled, tasteless nut.

— David Amend

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Soul

HUNTER A WELCOME ARRIVAL

Talk about a late bloomer. James Hunter, the newest entry in the recently latent blue-eyed soul singer category, is in his 40s. And he's gaining fame doing songs that hark back to a time even older than he is. The impish-looking Brit, who shared a bill with the Dirty Dozen Brass Band at La Zona Rosa on Friday, has a Sam Cooke-silky voice (with an edge that cuts the smoothness just enough), an unassuming attitude and an ability to write hook-laden tunes that make you want to swing and sway with your baby all night long.

That's just what many couples in the audience did as Hunter and his jazzy-sounding combo (with double saxes, stand-up bass, keyboards and drums) worked through several danceable tracks, from "People Gonna Talk," the March release that will likely hit a number of 2006 Top 10 lists — 20 years after he first recorded under the name Howlin' Wilf. (Hunter also unearthed some choice covers, including the "5" Royales tune "Think" that's also been done by, among others, James Brown and Mick Jagger.)

Though he certainly sounds retro, with elements of rockabilly and early R&B, Hunter is no anachronism. Nor is he a mere imitator; like Jamie Cullum or Corrine Bailey Rae (or any great artist), he draws from styles and genres he fell in love with, and makes them his own. Hunter's got range, control, songs, looks, timing and soul — and hefty guitar chops. Plus a Cockney accent. What else could you want — except more where that came from.

— Lynne Margolis