Reviews
Celebrations, salutations for Shaver
Boston | '12 Steps to a More Dysfunctional Musical'
Consider the Source, Seaflea
By John T. Davis
August 19, 2004
"You just can't beat Jesus Christ," Billy Joe Shaver is fond of singing. Maybe not, but celebrating your 65th birthday in an Austin theater surrounded by musicians, movie stars, friends, fans and acolytes must run a close second. That's how Shaver entered senior citizen-hood Monday night at the Paramount, playing paterfamilias to two generations of mostly Texan musicians who cited the profound influence the Corsicana-born singer and songwriter played in their careers.
 Photo by Brian K. Diggs/AA-S There was a lot of love for Billy Joe Shaver, right, at his 65th birthday bash Monday. Cory Morrow, left, was among the well-wishers at the Paramount Theatre. |
The filmmakers were far outnumbered by the musicians, however. The evening broke down roughly into two halves; the graybearded contemporaries such as Guy Clark, Kinky Friedman, Jimmie Dale Gilmore, the Geezinslaws and Joe Ely, who were comrades of Shaver's when Waylon Jennings ushered him into the Outlaw-music limelight in the '70s.
Then there were the younger, gangly guys-with-guitars, Billy Joe's offspring as it were, led by Robert Earl Keen and Bruce Robison (with his guest, wife Kelly Willis) and whose ranks included Todd Snider, Rodney Hayden, Jack Ingram and Cory Morrow. They tended to be more raw, both in material and presentation, than their elders, and their attitude toward Shaver was more that toward a mentor rather than a peer-age comrade in the trenches.
Energetic full-band mini-sets by Dale Watson, Jackson Taylor and the Lost Trailers helped break up occasional bout of guitar-pull ennui as the evening stretched toward the four-hour mark.
Your humble correspondent, whose own birthday had passed the week before with more fatigue and less fanfare than Shaver evidenced, exited the premises close to midnight as Billy Joe was onstage singing one of his '70s classics: "I'd turn and walk away from you/Just because you asked me to/Lord, I hope you never do." His arms outstretched in a savior's pose, head cocked back and eyes closed, silvery head of hair gleaming under the lights, he was the very picture of the lion in winter, with a roar or two left in him yet.
Theater
MORE LESSONS THAN LAUGHS
The worst is over. Or so we're led to believe at the beginning of "Not Clown," the intelligent yet disturbing new play by Steve Moore and Carlos Treviño.
The dark times have ended, the evil administration has left power and that means that, at last, clowns are no longer exiled or forced to live underground. And they are also no longer grabbed by government goons and tortured in unlit basements. So of course it's time for a perky little theater artist named Laura -- the rebel daughter of an enemy of the clowns, no less -- to right the wrongs of the recent past and stage a play about all the cruel and inhuman injustices that clowns suffered. And she'll involve all her newly repatriated clown friends to help her tell the tale.
Such a play-within-a-play structure -- complete with a faux program distributed to the audience -- serves Moore and Treviño well as they twist and layer their story to unsettling effect. Yes, the evil administration commits horrible atrocities against clowns, which we witness as disconcerting slapstick clown routines. But come to think about it, the clowns' own routines are mighty violent, too. Could they not be innocents unjustly discriminated against after all?
Lee Eddy -- arguably the most physically animated actor in Austin -- shines among the generally strong cast who each shape-shift through a number of modes, from goof-ball to dramatic.
"Not Clown" is a tale for our times: The scenes of torture unmistakably mimic recent images we've seen of Iraqi prisoner abuse, and the blanket condemnation of one type of people -- clowns -- unequivocally mirrors the current swirl of anti-Arab sentiments. And with its dramatic violence, "Not Clown" is not a play for the faint of heart. But then again, neither is the news these days.
("Not Clown" continues at 8 p.m. Thursday-Saturdays through Aug. 28 at the Off Center, 2211-A Hidalgo St., $10-$15, 275-6069.)
-- Jeanne Claire van Ryzin
Music
NOW THIS IS ROCK 'N' ROLL
Boston is a weird band, all the stranger for its square-ness. For example, the most interesting thing about Boston's 2002 album "Corporate America" was its politics and liner notes. Boston founder/leader/auteur Tom Scholz wrote about his vegetarianism, environmentalism and animal rights advocacy, while the title tune railed against SUVs and the Internet. It was as if rock's most notorious sonic perfectionist had been possessed by the spirit of a 19-year-old anarchist punk. It was completely unexpected and it was totally awesome.
It was also unexpected because Boston's music has traditionally barely had a point of view, let alone a social stance. The music seems scientifically formulated to appeal to the widest possible audience, while the lyrics are nebulous -- generic odes to romance, desire and having a good time. The songs become as much about the state of rocking as rocking itself.
And yet the crowd at the half-empty Erwin Center on Saturday was rocking very, very hard.
In its own way, Boston has extraordinary integrity. Aside from some promotional films in 1976, the band has never made a video or performed on television. Scholz will take years between albums, perfecting every note. As a result, their concerts are still an event for their fans.
There's also something weirdly humble about them. The show started late, and much of the crowd thought that Scholz -- dressed in shorts, a knee brace and a sleeveless workout T-shirt -- was just another guitar tech until he began to play "Rock and Roll Band," and the rest of the six-piece band, including original singer Brad Delp, walked out.
Of course, as the show was three hours of hits and near-misses, nothing was actually at stake. Including Delp's, there were at one point five guitars on stage, all playing "I Had a Good Time," "Peace of Mind," "Livin' For You," "Amanda," and the immortal "More Than A Feeling" through Scholz's custom-made amps. The giant pipe organ came out for Scholz's organ solo, and the footage of zipping past planets during "Cool the Engines" was cheesy to the point of being touching. This was rock as perfectible state: The band was rocking, the crowd was rocking, it was a mutual performance of the verb "to rock."
-- Joe Gross
Theater
DYSFUNCTION WITH A BEAT
Like the swallows to Capistrano, solo performer Rob Nash and his town full of quirky characters return to the Vortex with dependable regularity. The current premiere differs from the other plays in his "Dysfunctional Family Saga" series, however, because it contains music. "12 Steps to a More Dysfunctional Musical" features seven songs composed by three different musicians -- Chad Salvata, Johnny Edson and Edmund Pantuliano -- with lyrics mostly by Nash. The songs range from Broadway-style tunes, such as Edson's "Gotta Show to Do," to Salvata's techno-laced "Ambien Land" and rap "Little Brotha Doncha Do What Yo Big Brotha Done."
The result is still rough and Nash doesn't seem comfortable with the material yet. The songs and accompanying dances often feel out of sync, several character switches are murky and the tenuous story line isn't particularly compelling. There are some interesting choices, however. At the beginning of the first and second act, the black, gray and white set with little doors and windows recalled "Laugh In" as canned laughter greeted intentionally unfunny snippets of dialogue between characters. Much of the banter concerned spirituality and religion, themes that were never really developed. Forgiveness does come into play, specifically through the story of the widow Mildred, who faces the ghost of her abusive husband and reminders of his infidelities.
For those familiar with the saga, many of the old characters are here, including Fred, Mildred, Matt, Ashley and Leila aka Windsong aka Miriam. As many times as I have seen Nash's shows, I couldn't remember all the relationship particulars.
Things may well come together later in the run, but at this stage in its development, "12 Steps to a More Dysfunctional Musical," unfortunately, lives up to its name. I won't be surprised that as the talented Mr. Nash tweaks this piece, he'll eventually find a way to make it sing.
("12 Steps to a More Dysfunctional Musical" continues 8 p.m. Thursdays-Sundays through Sept. 12, Vortex, 2307 Manor Road, $13-$20 ($5-$25 sliding scale on Thursdays, $8 with canned food donation on Sundays), 478-5282.)
-- Jamie Smith Cantara
Music
COME ON UP TO TWO SIDES OF REDRUM
The Flamingo Cantina is not alone. A new place to hear live, original hard rock and punk music recently opened on Sixth Street on the second floor above Coyote Ugly. This new all-ages joint is called Redrum, and on Saturday, more than 100 kids turned out for the college-guy hard core of Consider the Source and the abrasive pop chug of Seaflea. Neither of these local bands has been together more than a year, yet they each displayed a tightness that suggests a rigid practice schedule.
Originally from the Fort Worth area, Seaflea's group of longtime friends locked into an intuitive groove on the sprawling "Roman Empire," which kicked off the set like a premature centerpiece. The young crowd (average age: 19-23, with a 50/50 female/male ratio) came alive during "Slumber Party Massacre," which sounds as subversively engaging as the title implies.
But the star of this first visit was the venue itself. Two rooms are connected by a corridor; in one room you've got the bands flailing away. The other room is more of a coffeehouse setting, with comfortable wicker chairs. While Consider the Source raged on in the back room, a couple played chess in the front room. But even more impressive than the unique, chaperone-friendly set-up is the club's incubator vibe. It's kind of reminiscent of the old Black Cat feel of kids going to a Sixth Street rock club for the first time, seeing bands that just might make it one day.
Run by former Back Room booker Mike Boudreau, Redrum will host a much heavier sound than the old Black Cat jam bands. But the energy Saturday night was similar. Twenty-four steps up from Sixth Street is a fresh, new, bold musical world.
-- Michael Corcoran
