The Lemonheads

I didn’t know it when I bought the ticket, but the 12/22/07 Middle East show I attended was a milestone in Lemonheads history. Evan Dando enlisted veteran punk rhythm section Karl Alvarez and Bill Stevenson to resurrect his old band, nearly a decade dead, on 2006’s The Lemonheads, but the line-up hadn’t toured in support of that album. With another new Lemonheads record looming on the horizon, the trio have finally played out and the results were about as good as you’d surmise they’d be; take a fine, occasionally brilliant, post-punk singer/songwriter like Evan Dando, stick him up on stage with two pros like Alvarez and Stevenson, then just start counting the ways the performance knocks you on your ass.

In anticipation of The Lemonheads, Dando stated in interviews that the new record was going to be a loud one, in the tradition of the old school punk bands that he admired prior to forming the band in 1986, such as The Buzzcocks, The Jam, and, of course, The Descendents. Since the punk side of Dando’s song-writing had steadily grown more and more dormant as he claimed to his commercial peak in 1992, the comeback album was that much more satisfying, retaining the group’s infectious pop elements while managing to be the loudest Lemonheads’ record since Ben Deilly was a member.

As much of a fun rush the album was, it was still fairly polished and the emphasis was more on the power pop elements of the songs than any mindless thrashing that might occur. Thus The Lemonheads was little preparation for how great the trio sounded live. Of course, playing in a venue as notorious loud as The Middle East Downstairs, a cellar that’ll leave your ears ringing for days, certainly helps, but even if they were playing at the bottom of a sewer with a shabby PA, the group’s power would still get across. Given the ages of the musicians and the era they emerged from, it should surprise none that the approach was very old school; simply take some great songs and play them as fast as you can. It’s a very simple formula in theory, but tough in practice; good lyrics, good hooks, and good chops aren’t learned over night and are thus often hard to come across all at once.

Perhaps it’s an indication of mid-life crisis. Perhaps it’s the influence of playing with members of the still mighty Descendents, a band that never ceased to mix their pop with their loud. Perhaps it’s a reaction against the dismissal of his music as “fluffy” or inconsequential. After all, 1992’s It’s A Shame About Ray and its follow-up, Come On Feel The Lemonheads, were both more Simon & Garfunkel and Gram Parsons than the punk/grunge/metal stuff that was floating everybody’s boat back then. Regardless of why, Dando seems to have found the perfect balance with his music, mixing the speed and rowdiness of his hardcore days with the more mature song craft of his folk indebted material without the whole thing seeming forced. For his part, he seemed to relish the noise, often playing loosely and allowing distortion to bleed through, occasionally pecking at his instrument for stray sounds, and, at one point, even laying his guitar down on top of the amplifier, perhaps half-heartedly attempting to clear the room.

Thus, the old material was presented in louder, faster versions while the performances of the new material exceeded the album. “Bit Part” and “Alison’s Starting To Happen” made for the best rave-ups, both pulled out of nowhere and then gone after two minutes had elapsed. Songs were banged out in so fast a pace that many seemed to blur together. Nearly every song incited a sing-along from the crowd, “If I Could Talk, I’d Tell You” and “Confetti” particularly inciting pop-punk euphoria from yours truly.

Smartly, a few of the slower numbers were thrown in to break things up. “It’s A Shame About Ray” was introduced casually, in the middle of the set, neither gotten out of the way immediately nor saved for an encore. As far as classic pop songs of the ’90s go, this one has more meat on it than the standard, an “I’m sorry but not surprised” lament for a fallen friend. “My Drug Buddy” lacked the organ parts of the Ray version, as well as Juliana Hatfield’s beautiful backing vocals, but nevertheless won the “we’d be sticking lighters up right now if the club allowed it” award for the evening, being the song where everyone swayed instead of hopped. A particular highlight for me was the self-titled album’s “Baby’s Home,” a heartfelt but suitably twisted tale of adultery and revenge in the lyrical style of old country murder ballads.

Near the end of the show, Dando was left alone on stage for several songs. Keeping with the spirit of the show, he eschewed an acoustic performance for the buzz of his electric guitar. Here he calmed from the blistering pop-punk and played slow and folksy, though he was still inclined to make noisy squeals, play loud chords, and bash on his instrument when he needed to. “Big Gay Heart” and “The Outdoors Type” were the highlights of this part of the set, though “Ride With Me” (arguably the man’s best song) was unfortunately absent. When the band rejoined him, they tore through several more fast ones before Dando decided to pull a Paul Westerberg and exchange instruments with Bill Stevenson. Stevenson then proceeded to play a medley of Black Flag songs, including an extended Greg Ginn-esque guitar solo. After this slight but powerful reminder of underground music’s all-but-forgotten past, the band played another Lemonheads song or two before calling it a night.

The two supporting bands complimented the dual nature of the Lemonheads’ sound beautifully. Holland’s Raccoon were all acoustic guitars and beautiful harmonies, threatening to steal the show at certain points. Their set is now a blur to me, but their lyrics were affecting, mixing heartfelt sentiments with condemnations of materialism. Meanwhile, opening band The New Rivals were very much a punk rock group with a bit of ska thrown in. They covered Fugazi’s “Waiting Room” in fairly sublime fashion, but musically they’re closer to the NOFX/Rancid side of punk, even managing a few Less Than Jake-isms here and there.

No related posts.

Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.