Oh! The show part was really good too. Yo La took a few minutes and came back out as Condo Fucks to play a couple of songs, including the awesome “With a Girl Like You,” originally by the Troggs. After a second, kind of long intermission, they came back for a mishmash set of Yo La Tengo classics both new and old. They started with a few laid-back numbers, like I Am Not Afraid of You and I Can Beat Your Ass’s “I Feel Like Going Home” and a gorgeous acoustic version of “Black Flowers.” Highlights from the band’s many years together dotted the set, generally funkier and more psychedelic than on disc, from “Autumn Sweater” to “Tom Courtenay” to the second version of Painful’s “Big Day Coming.” Openers The Urinals returned to play two songs as a megaband, which was cool and unexpected, although I would have rather heard more Yo La Tengo or a punk version of a YLT song. Overall it wasn’t the kind of greatest-hits set some fans may have hoped for, and you could quibble over song choice (No “If It’s True” or “Avalon Or Someone Very Similar” from the band’s newest album, Popular Songs? Por qué no?) but it showed a band who’s willing to change things up to keep things unpredictable.

—Billy Gil

They were called The Silent Comedy and I honestly had no idea what to expect. Normally I’d check up on an artist that’s supposed to be on the bill beforehand, but for whatever reason this time I did not. So what a pleasant surprise it was to see these guys come out and literally make me a fan before the first hook of the first song. The San Diego band is made up of two lead vocalists who are brothers—Joshua and Jeremiah Zimmerman—along with drummer Chad Lee, a rowdy guitarist/harmonica player named Tim Graves, and a banjo-man named Justin Buchanan—who by the way has an impressive handle-bar mustache that needs to be seen in person in order to be fully appreciated. Along with the vocals, Joshua plays a killer bass and Jeremiah stands behind a podium and plays the keyboard. The way he sometimes sings behind it, it’s almost as if we are in a sinner’s church. The one word that would describe their set is enthusiastic. That enthusiasm quickly carries over to the live audience, who was very much enjoying itself. Songs like “Poison,” “Road Song,” and my personal favorite, “Gasoline,” are prime examples of their folksy and fantastic rock & roll.

Once it was time for Ryan Bingham and The Dead Horses, the crowed was most definitely amped up. The venue—El Ray Theatre—is an impressive former movie house turned grand ballroom that has now become one of my favorite places to watch live music. Bingham and bandmates calmly made their way to the stage, and he was wearing a slight grin as if to say “this is pretty fucking cool.”

The most perplexing thing about Ryan Bingham is his amazingly textured and unique voice. If you didn’t know who he was, and then listened to one of his songs, you’d immediately guess that he was at minimum twice his real age. In reality, he isn’t even 30 yet, but sounds as though he’s had 30+ years in the business. Another thing that instantly stood out to me, when I first began following his music, is his socially-conscious lyrical content. He is a blunt guy that inserts very political statements within his music—statements that are driven by having some common sense—the same common sense that our politicians lack in abundance, and that goes for either party.

The Dead Horses—made up of drummer Matthew Smith, bassist Elijah Ford and guitarist Corby Schaub, who also plays the mandolin—are stylistically a seamless fit for frontman Bingham. Seemingly very laid back guys, they have a way of shifting between being relatively reserved, and then as the tempo up-shifts, coming alive while they increase the pace of the music that’s being played. This usually results in a lot of the songs having extended outro’s—which is really cool for the spectator, seeing as the guys are clearly jamming out.

Songs like “Dollar a Day” and “Depression” give voice to the blue-collar workers that make up the majority of this country. In the latter, Bingham sings, “I could make some friends down at the courthouse, get bailed out and go on welfare. I’d rather lay down in a pine box, than sell my heart to a fucking wasteland.” This attitude reflects the type of substance that is present on the majority of his songs—speaking out against the social realities of a world that allows the top 1% to raid, bully and tribalize the rest of us.

The audience hushed halfway through the set as Bingham lit a cigarette, took a drag and then passed it to his drummer. This preceded the beginning chords of the haunting and beautiful “Hallelujah,” in which he narrates from the perspective of a man who is murdered at the beginning of the song. Others like “Dylan’s Hard Rain,” “Bluebird,” and “Direction of the Wind”—where Bingham sings “No time for propaganda, or a media filled with hate, no time for scripted messages that slither round like snakes, in your brain”—are personal favorites of mine, due to the meaningful lyrics attached to each.

The set closed with “Southside of Heaven,” where Bingham reflected on a man’s difficult life. The song is also one of many showcasing his ability to play the harmonica. The landscape that each song paints is instrumental in keeping each person emotionally invested. Ryan Bingham and The Dead Horses are good at this, especially live, where you can feel the soul of each record reverberating through the room. A 3-song encore was given after the crowd started frantically yelling his name—including Oscar-winning “The Weary Kind” from the fantastic movie Crazy Heart—and the people definitely went home happy.

Bingham is truly the working man’s musician. His music is very Americana, and so it should appeal highly to the whole lot of us. If you’re listening to his words then you should most definitely find something that strikes a chord. It’s not perfect, over-produced music—rather the opposite, loose and less formal, but full of character. Trust me when I say that if you haven’t already invested in this guy’s catalog, do so now. He is a real musician by my personal standard—someone who is not only talented, but then uses that talent in an attempt to affect a more positive and just outcome for all of us.

Set List
Dollar a Day
Depression
The Other Side
Tell My Mother I Miss Her So
Dylan’s Hard Rain
Hard Times
Junky Star
Strange Feelin’ In The Air
Hallelujah
The Wandering
The Hobo
Direction of the Wind
Bluebird
Sunrise
Southside of Heaven
*The Weary Kind
*Sunshine
*Bread and Water

—Josh Liddy (words + photo)

Years ago, I bought my first Wanda Jackson record (I’ve Gotta Sing), the one with “Fancy Satin Pillows” on it. My love for other great country dames had led me to her, and as much as I liked that record, it didn’t help me differentiate her from any other singer of the genre. It wasn’t until I started listening to her earlier rockabilly songs that I got a stronger impression of this amazing and funky talent. What a voice! She’s a tiny woman (like me), but she snarls and belts and roars like a lioness. No, she’s a chainsaw. Not to undermine the tough love sounds of Dolly and Loretta, but Wanda sounds like the coolest juvenile delinquent in town.

And last night I finally saw her. Thank you Jack White, if for nothing else, than for realizing that great talent doesn’t need to fade with the times. Wanda deserves to be onstage, packing out the El Rey, showing young grasshoppers how it’s done. But the world doesn’t always deal fairly, and for some reason she had gone off the radar until now, until her collaborative album with that awesome guy from The White Stripes/The Raconteurs/The Dead Weather. He certainly provided a backing band fit for the Queen of Rockabilly: The Third Man House Band, the backbone of which is drumming powerhouse Joey Waronker. With a solid horn section, slide guitar, and two lovely (although slightly awkward when it comes to onstage composure) back up singers (she calls them her “cupcakes”), Jack proved himself to be a deft bandleader, navigating some potentially choppy seas (this is not the band that appears on the album, nor are they doing a full tour). But they ripped through Mrs. Jackson’s songbook like pros: “Riot in Cell Block 9,” “Mean Mean Man,” “Midnight Turning Day Blues,” “Fujiyama Mama” (which apparently was “only big in Japan”), “Funnel of Love” (personal favorite), the classic “Let’s Have a Party, ”and “straight from the Church of What’s Happening Now, the gospel hymn “Dust On The Bible.” She closed out the show with the covers “Heartbreak Hotel” and “Shakin’ All Over.” Wanda roared, the crowd roared back. The Party Ain’t Over. Indeed.

—Anna-Claire Simpson