Marc Perlman Goes Underground

At the last minute last Friday i decided to go see Marc Perlman play an early evening "solo" gig at a coffee shop in South Minneapolis. This was literally going to be an underground show, since the venue was down in the basement of said coffee shop, a charming little neighborhood place called Java Jacks. It was the inaugural gig in a series of Friday night acoustic hootenannies at Java Jacks organized by The Mad Ripple, the musical alter-ego of noted local music scribe Jim Walsh, who just happens to live a few doors away. As for the "off the radar" vibe of the show, well, it's apparently all part of a plot by members of the Jayhawks to play to as few people as possible in their home town, if they play at all! :-) Thankfully, Tim O'Reagan's upcoming show at the 400 in December – an honest to god proper rock show – is an encouraging sign that maybe that streak is changing. Can a North American Gary Louris show be in the future somewhere?

Anywho, back to the basement of Java Jacks, a large former storage room that can best be described as a cross between a bomb shelter and a suburban rec room. Nuthin' fancy – a nice little stage and an assortment of cast-off furniture; very comfortable, very "homey." A wide array of (very good) coffee drinks and light food was available from upstairs. Since there's no liquor permit, the gig was "BYOF" – Bring Your Own Flask. It was like a frickin' Speakeasy down there – haven't seen that many pocket flasks full of libations since the last "dry" wedding reception I attended. There was also a full bottle of Perly's favorite Irish whisky on stage that the performers were using for courage and inspiration. I noticed that after a while the bottle had made its way into the audience for the requisite "Irish Coffees." Nothing like a little speedball action early on a Friday night…

The performers included Mr. Ripple, Phil Bayer (a fantastic solo musician, late of Hank and Ruth, a cool roots combo, and before that, The Modern Day Saints) and our hero, accompanied by the lovely, abundantly talented Janey Winterbauer. Janey sings with Astronaut Wife (Susstones' uber-cool electro-pop band) and also performed with Perly last year at the Polara "Guest Session Sundays" extravaganza at the Fitzgerald Theater in St. Paul. I'm rather biased since she's a close friend of ours, but Janey is as good a singer as this town has – she's the real deal. She's also currently in the studio with Marc working on his long overdue solo debut but, shhhh, you didn't hear that from me.

The general set-up for the night was basically a "round robin" hootenanny. Each songwriter did a song and then passed the mic down the line. Oh wait, there was no mic. The whole shebang was done up old school – no amplification save for that provided by God, Gibson and the room's acoustics. With the natural sound, comfy couches, community booze and kids buzzing about (including some of the performers young 'uns), it really was like being at somebody's house…

In a little over 2 hours of playing, The Ripple, Bayer and Perlman/Winterbauer got to play a half dozen or so songs each. The evening flowed amazingly well and the time went by super fast. Everybody sounded great, the intimate setting providing a rare opportunity to "get under the hood" of a whole batch of wonderful songs. There was plenty of time for comments and long intros, as well as lots of chatty interaction with the audience as the java and juice took effect. When the performers weren't doing one of their songs, they stayed on stage, checking out the sounds of their stage mates, sometimes even tossing in a lick or two. Just like a real hootenanny.

Marc and Janey – how's that for an authentic-sounding folk name? -- made for an oh-so compelling duo: she sang, softly with her eyes closed, like an angel while he expertly worked the wood like the old pro he is, occasionally chiming in with some harmonies or an exquisite solo. Perlman's songs were – surprise -- mostly sad and melancholy, real heart-tugging stuff. After getting lost in the music while listening to another patented Perly heartbreaker, Bayer made a comment about the author's general demeanor. Marc mounted a vigorous defense about his personality not being the same as his songs. Judging from the resulting silence, the crowd didn't seem to be buying it. After a moment or two, the man who wrote "Trouble" finally said, "I'm actually a happy guy," which was met a few ticks later by a comment from the audience, "no you're not," which cracked everybody up. Anybody who's met Perly before has some idea at how classic a moment this was.

As good as the new Perlman songs were, there were two bona fide bone-chilling moments, courtesy of the Golden Smog catalog. "Cure For This," one of the highlights from Another Fine Day, was offered up early on and blew everybody away. Janey was recruited for vocal duties on this song when the Smog played at First Avenue this last summer and she sounded even better down in the bunker. Then, on the next round, came a Golden Smog cast-off, "Beautiful Day," which Marc and Janey debuted at the aforementioned Fitzgerald gig almost exactly a year ago, in a venue as far removed as humanly possible from the cozy concrete confines of Java Jacks. This song is so painfully good – and, yes, beautiful – that it hurts.

Before long the gig was winding down and I was making my way to my car, feeling strangely jacked-up and buzzed from an intoxicating mixture of caffeine, alcohol, good company and fantastic music. Then I looked at my watch and it was barely 9pm, and I still had two shows to attend. At that point I felt oddly down. Part of me wanted to turn around; the alluring confines of the basement i had just left were calling me like an old friend. Strangely, the thought of heading out into "Clubland" didn't seem quite as attractive as it normally does on a weekend night.