2 posts tagged “austin city limits”

I went into this show with low expectations, knowing from other reviews and accounts on this tour that Mr. Davies would probably be playing a set laced heavily with tracks from his new album, "Other People's Lives." I also knew that he would be bypassing any music from his productive and introspective late 60s period, sticking to the old chestnuts from his greatest hits and a couple picks from "Muswell Hillbillies."

We arrived in the "space available" line at the UT Communications courtyard on Dean Keeton next to the building where KLRU tapes the show. I had told my friends I wanted to be there early because I knew there would be a large line and I didn't want to be left near the back and miss my chance to get into the show. Luckily, we were at the point in the line that had a bench, so we got to sit down the entire time we were waiting to get our number for the next line we'd have to wait in at 7 p.m. As Davies says, "Even at the gates of Heaven, I'll be waiting in a queue."

We sat around joking about other people in line. There was a somewhat wizened redneck guy in his early 40s who had a face exactly like George W. Bush who we had a tough time not looking at. A gust of wind brought a wilted smell that reminded me of walking through the library. I sniffed my shirt to make sure it wasn't me, and Tara laughed at me. "Did you think your cat pissed on your shirt when you weren't looking?"

After getting our numbers and eating dinner at Trudy's, we returned to the Communications building at 7 p.m. to get in the second line before we would get in to the show. I noticed quite a few familiar faces, including ubiquitous local celebrities like Jody Denberg from KLRU, Alejandro Escovedo and the guy from Waterloo Records. It was quite a diverse crowd--a testament to the length of Davies' career and his wide appeal. Soccer moms, sorority expatriates, black-haired hipsters, high tech professionals and greybeard hippies all waited to see him.

Around 7:45, we entered the 6th floor studio. Ray came out alone shortly with a guitar line playing behind him, and the audience welcomed him raucously. "Wait," he said, "I have a band," seeming pleased that after 10 years of being on the stage playing a solo acoustic for his "Storytellers" tours that he'd be able to rock out again. Just as I had read in recent tour reports, he opened the show with a couple Kinks' crowd pleasers ("I'm Not Like Everybody Else" and "Where Have All the Good Times Gone?")  to warm up the audience. The band was tight and precise—a little too precise for my taste, and Ray himself seemed to be doing the Kinks-by-numbers treatment to the songs. While he was a consummate professional, I had a feeling that these were breadcrumbs thrown out there to sate our jonesing for Kinks' tunes. Passion lacked, and I don't blame him for it. As he said later, "there are some things in life a man can't escape, and one of those things is his back catalog."

Following the Kinks' numbers, he played a set of about five songs from his new album. Most of the songs were great, and I got a sense that here was where his heart really was. I was hoping that the audience, most of whom probably hadn't heard the new album, would give these new songs the same reception that had greeted the Kinks' ones. Of course, I shouldn't have worried about Austinites getting excited. Each new track received whoops and hollers. His band, while a little too clean at times, also contained a ferocious power anchored by the powerful drummer, who was more of a Dave Grohl-like 4/4 basher than a jazz-based guy like Mick Avory.

I found myself actually listening to the words more now that he was in front of us. What I sensed is that despite the fact Davies was recording before he got shot, the shooting itself had precipitated a new joie de vivre in him and had caused him to appreciate life. He hasn't lost any of his irony or pointed lyrical observations—he still skewers with the best of them—in fact, I think he's found his mission in life again. He knows that his songs work best when he observes what's going on around him and points out the hypocrisies.

His song the "The Tourist" took on a ferocious new life on the "Austin City Limits" stage. While it starts out a quite acousticy travelogue seeming to prick the endless masses vacationing in famous spots, Davies employs a Kurt Cobain like change of guitar dynamics to depict his brutal attack after visiting a shady bar on the outskirts of pre-flood New Orleans:

I'm just another tourist checking out the slums
With my plastic Visa drinking with my chums
I dance and swing while ABBA sing
And I flash my Platinum
To the sound of Livin' La Vida Loca
Yes, Livin' La Vida Loca

While in the heat of the street
The native beats his drum
Take the money 'cause it's just another tourist
Having lots of fun

Just like that, he's taken from joyful boozing to harsh reality, all in the pursuit of "money, money, money."

In between songs, he seemed addled at times, flubbing guitar intros to songs like "Celluloid Heroes" (which he tried to play over twice before abandoning it) and taking acute notice of out-of-tune strings and bad guitar tones. However, he charmed the pants off of everyone with humorous quips, despite saying earlier he "promised (himself) he wasn't going to tell any stories—(he was) just going to play the tunes." At one point he ventured in the audience to congratulate a couple who were going to be married in the fall.

But what you really realize seeing him there on stage is that Davies is at his heart is an entertainer harking back to the old vaudeville tradition. At one point, he referred back to of his two greatest influences, English performer George Formby and blues man Big Bill Broonzy. Somewhere in between those points lies Davies.

One of the high points for me was seeing him do one of my favorite Kinks' songs, "20th Century Man." Starting out by playing the bridge ("I was born in a welfare state..."), you realize that the more things change, the more they stay the same. We're still living in the age of "20th Century Man," I thought to myself:

This is the age of machinery,
A mechanical nightmare,
The wonderful world of technology,
Napalm, hydrogen bombs, biological warfare,

This is the twentieth century,
But too much aggravation
It's the age of insanity,
What has become of the green pleasant fields of Jerusalem.

The "Jerusalem" line brought to mind the current Israeli conflict. Why do we keep reliving this?

The other high points were when he invited the audience to sing along on songs like "Sunny Afternoon" and "Low Budget." "You have beautiful voices, Austin," he told us at the end of "Sunny Afternoon." "I'd just like to hear that again, and I don't care if they tape it or not."

Davies ended his performance with another crowd pleaser, "All Day and All of the Night," and finally I heard the distorted guitar that had been missing the whole show. And that's when I realized that a 62-year-old man rocks harder than just about any current touring act today. Take that, Stones.

The Austin American-Statesman has a report from someone else who attended.

Update: Another review at the Kinks site.

I'm going! Wish us luck (as far as getting in). After going to the Gourds ACL taping, I'm more up to speed on how the current admittance system works. The main pain in the ass is that if you're going with someone else, they can't be late in getting their number for the queue or you won't get in at the same time.