There's a growing popularity in the music I love. In the laid-back, yet emotion-filled lyrics and music that can grow fierce in the next chord change. This music that has many names- "Southern Rock," "Alternative Country," or the one that never really caught on- "Cowpunk." So with this growing popularity comes more "Artists that Changed My Life" posts focused on those artists that I have held so dear to me for the past few years. I generally take each and every one with a grain of salt because, after all, how many times can your life REALLY be changed??
I had been seeing on the blog sites that this one artist, in particular, was something of a game changer when it came to seeing a man with just an acoustic guitar. That when you left you would feel like someone had taken your head, opened it up, grabbed that stake that is "Knowledge," and driven it deep with the world's largest sledge-hammer. By the way, that sledge-hammer would seem like it weighs ten tons and has been nowhere other than his shoulders. That artist, my friends, is Tim Barry.
So, as I said, I don't think the notion of "life-changing" has much meaning anymore and when I kept seeing his name, I was skeptical. And, anyway, I had listened to some of his stuff. It was good. I liked it a lot. But, "life-changing?" Come on, man...
Well, Saturday night, while accompanied by KK, that notion was put on display. And as much as Mr. Tim Barry doesn't care, holy shit!
The evening started out with the musings of Josh Small, who coming in at about 5'3", 120 lbs., made me feel what Andrew must feel like looking at me. But the music and soul coming out of him was incredible. I can't say enough good things about Mr. Small and I think that each and everyone of you would be better off having listened to him. He was accompanied by a harmonica player named Andrew, coincidentally. Small himself was accompanied by a beautiful resophonic guitar and a telecaster which he would strum or play slide on. It was beautiful music, and accompanied by the harmonica it was even better.
Next, we had the pleasure of hearing a young, strong-voiced woman by the name of Jenny Owen Youngs. She was accompanied by just her guitar and her voice. Remember how Jewel used to sound when she was just starting out and sleeping in cars- and still pretty damned good? Well, take that rawness, and add in a little more emotion. You have Jenny Young Owens. She was very good, and although I'm not particularly keen on women's voices (I don't know why. Just my only flaw, I guess.), she had me wanting more by the end of her set.
It was now time for Tim Barry. Mind you, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. I mean, how "bad-ass" can a man with his acoustic guitar be, right? My how we forget. How we forget the power that Woody Guthrie, Bob Dylan, Pete Seeger, Bruce Springsteen, and Johnny Cash were once able to evoke with a strong voice, incredible words, and three chords. I was reminded, though, on Saturday night.
When Tim Barry came out, he walked up to the mic unassumingly, strapped on his guitar, said his hellos, and began what would become the most intense show I can remember seeing. I just cannot try to tell you how incredible this experience was. I have said many times, that this band "rocked" or this band "rolled." But, my GOD, how this one man on guitar (with accompaniment from Josh Small on slide guitar and Andrew {not that Andrew} on harmonica) was able to stir up so many emotions. Emotions on subjects such as death, life, politics, love, loss, and just plain being pissed off. There were those who were right up front singing these songs along with him in an Irish pub type of manner. There were those who listened closed-eyed, intent on hearing every word and taking it in with the gravity of universe. And there those who stood there, slack-jawed. Amazed at the soul. At the energy. At the pure severe emotional power of these songs. Each one coming with more urgency than the last.
I had the pleasure of having maybe the best moment at a show I can remember. Tim played Wait at Milano (please go watch the video), and talked about how it once was about depression and about a friend of his who had died. He described that as being in the past and with the birth of more family and friends around him, it had new meaning. It was beautiful. I won't say anything else to muddle up what emotions the song brought or what it will bring to you.
The show climaxed with the song Avoiding Catatonic Surrender. I couldn't have asked for a better way to end what had been the most intense show I had ever seen. Throughout all of the rock shows. All of the guitars turned up to 11. It was one man, an acoustic guitar, and some back-up guitar and harmonica. With something to say. Sometimes that's all it takes.
I took a few days before writing this, because I was sure at some point the "new" would wear off. I would think, "OK, it was a good night. But, most intense!?" Well, those days have passed. And, I feel stronger and stronger about my statements. One time Andrew had said to me, "A guy and a guitar just doesn't do it for me anymore." I had told him I generally agreed. No matter what, Andrew will come with me next time. And he will see that there are still those out there that have lots to say, and they don't need much to say it.
Until then, here's the best I can do.
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