Ten Years Gone
Dan Bern, Martyrs', Chicago, 10/3/2003
Last night, I realized that time passes, even for quirky young folk singers. They get bored with their old stuff, they change their tone, they get older, they move on. Dan Bern's great masterpiece, the self-titled album that will never not be a staple of my listening rotation, was released ten years ago. I've seen Dan a half dozen times in that span, and sadly the first couple shows were the best; acoustic, solo, irreverent, hilarious, and based on outrageously good material. A couple shows where he seemed stoned and lost followed, but I kept showing up every time he came through town. That loyalty was rewarded last year, when Dan strolled into Chicago with a backing band, The International Jewish Banking Conspiracy (cool name), and rocked up both his old standbys and some energetic new songs.
This time around, there was no band and there were no old standbys. Dan's been, he says, hanging out in a warehouse in New Mexico for six months, writing soft folk songs on a teardrop-shaped electric guitar. Those songs were the focal point of the show. Martyrs' was subdued and quiet, as if the crowd knew what to expect, or at least knew not to expect a greatest hits set. We stood respectfully and listened. I think some of the new songs were pretty decent, but they all shared the same subdued tone and only twelve hours later are blending together in my head. One had a neat minor chord progression that reminded me of a modern Chili Peppers' radio hit. Another one that got a big laugh referred to "Jerusalem" from his first album, the part where he sings about his love for olives. It went something like this, though I've definitely messed up the meter and even the rhyming:
The best part of the night came when Dan introduced a "hymn" and said he hoped we'd all share the gospel on the subway and on our voicemail messages. It went "Bush must be defeated" over and over and over, and rhymed that with "his supporters unseated," "the Rose Garden weeded," "his evil depleted," etc etc etc. It was energetic and hilarious and fantastic, exactly what we'd all come there to see, and I was warmed by seeing Dan stand up and belt something out with his eyes sparkling.
The last song of the night was called "Sammy's Bat", about religion and sacred cows more than it was about baseball. I'll close this post with the words that Dan closed that song and the show. In typical Dan rambling fashion, it was the only reference to Mr. Sosa in the song:
Last night, I realized that time passes, even for quirky young folk singers. They get bored with their old stuff, they change their tone, they get older, they move on. Dan Bern's great masterpiece, the self-titled album that will never not be a staple of my listening rotation, was released ten years ago. I've seen Dan a half dozen times in that span, and sadly the first couple shows were the best; acoustic, solo, irreverent, hilarious, and based on outrageously good material. A couple shows where he seemed stoned and lost followed, but I kept showing up every time he came through town. That loyalty was rewarded last year, when Dan strolled into Chicago with a backing band, The International Jewish Banking Conspiracy (cool name), and rocked up both his old standbys and some energetic new songs.
This time around, there was no band and there were no old standbys. Dan's been, he says, hanging out in a warehouse in New Mexico for six months, writing soft folk songs on a teardrop-shaped electric guitar. Those songs were the focal point of the show. Martyrs' was subdued and quiet, as if the crowd knew what to expect, or at least knew not to expect a greatest hits set. We stood respectfully and listened. I think some of the new songs were pretty decent, but they all shared the same subdued tone and only twelve hours later are blending together in my head. One had a neat minor chord progression that reminded me of a modern Chili Peppers' radio hit. Another one that got a big laugh referred to "Jerusalem" from his first album, the part where he sings about his love for olives. It went something like this, though I've definitely messed up the meter and even the rhyming:
"I used to sing about olives/People would bring me lotsHe also sang to us about how he was through with love and about how his first ten days in office went when he was elected president. It was a scattered effort, but oh-so-earnest, punctuated by heartfelt thanks to the audience for sticking with him as he tried out his new stuff ("I know this isn't exactly 'Marilyn Monroe'"). His entreaties were completely successful -- there weren't many first-timers there and we were all happy to be asked to give him a break.
Then I started to sing about weed/The green stuff magically appeared
Now I'm singing about pussy, pussy, pussy, pussy, pussy, pussy, pussy, pussy."
The best part of the night came when Dan introduced a "hymn" and said he hoped we'd all share the gospel on the subway and on our voicemail messages. It went "Bush must be defeated" over and over and over, and rhymed that with "his supporters unseated," "the Rose Garden weeded," "his evil depleted," etc etc etc. It was energetic and hilarious and fantastic, exactly what we'd all come there to see, and I was warmed by seeing Dan stand up and belt something out with his eyes sparkling.
The last song of the night was called "Sammy's Bat", about religion and sacred cows more than it was about baseball. I'll close this post with the words that Dan closed that song and the show. In typical Dan rambling fashion, it was the only reference to Mr. Sosa in the song:
"Sometimes you play by the rules/
And sometimes you gotta cork your bat."
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