1987: Arlo & Alice

Sometimes, having one big hit song can be a mixed blessing. Ask Arlo Guthrie. "Alice's Restaurant" may have paid his bills for years, but playing it every night is another matter entirely.

The affectionate audience that filled The Catalyst Monday night never missed it. They chuckled knowingly when he told of hearing his anti-draft epic reduced to mall Muzak. Everyone there knew Arlo Guthrie had other things to offer.

Guthrie has proven himself a clever songwriter and a capable interpreter of other people's tunes. Among his strengths are his whimsical sense of humor and his evident sincerity. Chief among his weaknesses is - let's face it - a tendency to ramble.

It was not unusual for Arlo to introduce a song with a monologue three or four times its length. Most of the time, he was hilarious - if he had eschewed folksinging he might have had a career as a standup comic - but occasionally Arlo went too far. One such point was a twelve-minute discourse on the hazards of hunting giant clams, complete with a demonstration of harpooning technique. This bit, which was long enough for the band to go backstage for refreshments, had more than one observer scratching their scalp. The song that followed was, inevitably, anti-clamactic.

But, as Guthrie noted, there was no time limit. And when he attended to the music, he delivered crisp renditions of old blues and country ballads; he sang "Mr. Tambourine Man" and "Gates of Eden" sounding more like Dylan than Dylan himself. And he offered his own songs, too: "some of 'em, not all of 'em". Backed by his able band Shenandoah - Bob Williams on guitar, Dan Velika on bass, and Terry Hall on drums - Arlo gave an emphatic punch to "Coming into Los Angeles", his best known tune next to "Alice". Another fine song that he made famous, Steve Goodman's "City of New Orleans" was given a polished but perfunctory run-through. None of the instrumentalists were given a chance to stretch out. Still, this was a sit-down show; nobody came to dance.

Less excusable was the relegation of brother Joadie Guthrie to sideman status. After years of woodshedding, Joadie released a credible debut LP last year. Reportedly it took Joadie a long time to come to grips with the legacy of their father, Woodie Guthrie, a giant in American music. He could have used some encouragement from his more famous brother, like a song or two in the spotlight. Instead he sang harmony and played rhythm guitar.

If there was any rancor over this, it never surfaced - least of all during the cheerful romp through dad's "This Land is Your Land". In the obligatory mid-song monologue, Arlo told of learning his father's song at school, and how Woody taught him the verses "they don't put in school books".

If anyone missed "Alice's Restaurant", Arlo pointed out that this fall is "the 20th anniversary of that sucker" and promised to play it next time he's in town (complete with a new introduction, no doubt). It hardly mattered though - "Alice" may have been his ticket to fame, but Arlo proved he can please a crowd just fine without it.

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1987: Bourgeois Tagg

Bourgeois Tagg is long gone – they broke up in 1989 – But the opening line of the review gives me the notion to do a "Favorite Bass Players" list, which I'll get to later today.

In my book, a band is only as hot as their bass player - which is why I was doubly impressed at last Saturday's Bourgeois Tagg show. Co-leader Larry Tagg treats his axe like a lead instrument, sputtering out coarse, melodic lines straight through each tune, mixed as prominent as possible. Tagg took several dynamic solos that made guitarist Lyle Workman's polished workouts seem rather unexeptional by comparison.

Search Amazon.com for Bourgeois Tagg

1987: The Neville Brothers/Chris Cain

Add another 24 years to the road schedule of Chris Cain, who's still at it; seems to be based in the East Bay these days. And the Neville Brothers, an American treasure for more than a half century, are still the 600 pound gorilla of New Orleans music. Catch them at the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival this May.

Fourteen years of low-paying club dates and blues festivals are finally starting to pay off for the Chris Cain Band. Guitarist Cain, who's spent seven of those years with the current lineup, just turned down a vacancy in Roomful of Blues. He is occasionally recognized on the street in Europe, humbly turning over spare guitar picks and autographs to blues devotees. The band released their first album, Late Night City Blues, in April on the Blue Rock-it label. And at home in Santa Cruz, they continue plugging away, opening for the Neville Brothers last week at the Catalyst, and headlining another Dollar Night tonight.

Last Monday's show demonstrated how well these players have grown on each other, and how hungry they still are. Ron Torbenson started it out with a jovial bassline; the others pounced on it a few bars later when Robert Higgins' impeccable drumming kicked in. Lizz Fischer's keyboards and Noel Catura's saxes give the unit a nice fat sound, and Cain just sails through one joyful solo after another, his head thrown back and ticking like a metronome.

1987: Big Audio Dynamite

I just received notification, via my Facebook page, that BAD has reunited - so I dug up this concert review from the late Reagan Era. They're currently touring the UK, and will be playing Coachella this spring. Welcome news! Their FB fan page is right here.

British rockers Big Audio Dynamite lived up to their billing Saturday night at the Catalyst. Led by Clash co-founder Mick Jones, BAD delighted a packed dancefloor with their high decibel blend of contemporary funk and visceral punk.

Three years ago, the Clash, minus Jones, played the Santa Cruz Civic, and something was definitely missing. Joe Strummer, who formed the Clash with Jones in 1976, had just sacked his partner over the proverbial "artistic differences". Apparently, Strummer wanted the emphasis on his politically conscious lyrics, which helped the Clash break out of the underground in the late 70's.

Jones, meanwhile, derived his inspiration from Jamaican reggae and American funk and rap. His fusion of these styles with British new wave had critics hailing the Clash for their eclecticism.

After firing Jones, Strummer returned to his hardcore punk roots, taking a revamped Clash on the road to a generally lukewarm response. Jones, ignoring Strummer's public abuse of him, lay low for a year or so, then started BAD.

If the Clash's motto was "the only band that matters", BAD's must be "find a groove and fill it". By the third song - their signature tune "Bad" - they had found that groove, and it only deepened as the night went on.

While Jones enumerated "the things that drive me crazy", his bandmates set up a rhythmic and percussive attack. Drummer Greg Roberts and bassist Leo Williams kept the crowd moving, while Dan Donovan provided texture on keyboards.

Vocalist Don Letts, who let loose with a few inspired raps, handled BAD's trademark tape effects. The little snippets of film and radio dialogue during instrumental breaks lent a touch of surrealism to the mix.

Mick Jones hasn't lost his sense of politics - he dedicated one tune to "Mr. Reagan, the memory man" - he just doesn't beat you over the head it. He's dealing with other tried-and-true rock themes, like the mating game ("Wind Me Up") or the music itself ("C'mon Every Beatbox").

When BAD encored with "Beatbox" and "E = MC2", perhaps their two biggest hits, the dancers were just this side of frenzy. Called back a second time, they offered Prince's "1999" and sent everyone home with smiles on their faces.

While Strummer, hat in hand, co-wrote a few tracks on the latest BAD album, Jones has been quick to downplay any talk of a Clash reunion. To underscore that, he played no Clash songs on Saturday. While songs like "London Calling" and "Rock the Casbah" would undoubtedly have strengthened the set, Jones chose to keep the emphasis on his new band, and he's got a point there. With his varied influences and spirited mates, Jones has established BAD as a band to watch - and nobody watching was standing still.

UPDATE: Please check out these great cover versions of Clash tunes by Rachid Taha and some other guys you might recognize.

1987: Art Ensemble of Chicago

This review appeared 24 years ago in the Watsonsville Register-Pajaronian. Though the Art Ensemble of Chicago continues to record and perform, they have lost founding members Lester Bowie and Malachi Favors. You can purchase some of their nearly four dozen albums, or try some videos over here.

The Art Ensemble of Chicago made their Santa Cruz debut last night at the newly remodeled Kuumbwa Jazz Center. The five multi-instrumentalists, who have played together for over twenty years, delighted two capacity crowds with a stunning display of virtuosity.

The Art Ensemble grew out of the Association for the Advancement of Creative Music, founded in the mid-60's to teach jazz to Chicago's urban youth. They, along with other AACM graduates, were inspired by and expanded upon the "free jazz" explorations of John Coltrane, Ornette Coleman, and others. Recently, in a series of records for ECM, the Art Ensemble have shown a knack for a more melodic style of jazz that has lost none of its quirkiness.

Last night's show was not a series of tunes per se, but rather a seamless, 75-minute voyage through a variety of moods, styles, and structures. At times wildly improvisatory, at others painstakingly rehearsed, it was all delivered with good humor.

Each musician, given room for a solo, showed both a mastery of his instrument and a cheerfully unconventional approach to it. Malachi Favors strummed and plucked his standup bass like a giant ukelele. Roscoe Mitchell took his alto sax well beyond the limits of its upper register. Joseph Jarman performed stately meditations on both soprano and tenor sax. Don Moye threw himself into a pyrotechnical drum break. And Lester Bowie, whose trumpet soared all night long, stood and uttered a squawking, coughing, sputtering solo that had his colleagues mugging behind him.

Favors, Moye and Jarman, all in traditional African dress with painted faces, occasionally set their instruments aside to choose from a small army of whistles, horns, bells, conch shells, bird calls, and gongs. Jarman also made expressive use of a synthesizer. Bowie, in his customary white lab coat, abandoned himself to dance when the rhythm section's swing became irresistable. Only Mitchell, in a suit and tie, was conventionally dressed, befitting his sober demeanor.

Throughout their history the Art Ensemble have pursued the delicate balance between spontaneity and discipline that characterizes the best in jazz. Last night they walked that thin line with authority, in a concernt marred only by its brevity. Having them here in Santa Cruz was, as promoter Jerry Percy put it, "a dream come true."