Having braved a nearby bar full of fanatical Celtic supporters while enjoying a pre-show drink, it's slightly disappointing to drop into a three-quarters empty venue just before NEAL CASAL ambles onstage.
Although now a good half-dozen albums into his career, it's depressing to report that Casal probably still does better from hs guest appearances with luminaries such as JAMES IHA and LUCINDA WILLIAMS than from his own bittersweet muse.
Nonetheless, as befits a man with the ability to pick himself up after being dropped by his record company mid-tour (yeah that really did once happen to him), all this becomes rather ephemeral when he begins to strum his way into these increasingly special songs. Indeed, it's quickly apparent that Neal has far more to offer than just a black book full of influential friends' 'phone numbers; songs like "Real Country Dark" and an aching "Tonight I'm Gonna Bleed" putting a very distinctive spin on the oft-cliched 'sensitive' singer-songwriter mores.
Self-effacing, open and approachable - with the occasional surreal aside like the one about the disconcertingly human shape of the Triskel's fire extinguisher (?!) - Casal pulls out ace after ace, finishing off with the affecting, dirt-poor but dignified blues of "Fell On Hard Times" and finally "Delaware Station", which leaves us feeling every inch as devotional as those soccer fans earlier.
Sub Pop country rock heroes BEACHWOOD SPARKS attempt to tap into this spirituality - with Mr.Casal returning to alternate between piano and Fender Tele - but initially their endearing, stoned demeanour threatens to swamp them as they lurch sloppily into the intro of song after song, your correspondent certain they're gonna break into "Mr.Spaceman" at any time, whilst also trying desperately not to laugh at quite probably the laziest drummer in rock - ever!
|
Seriously, he makes Charlie Watts seem like Keith Moon and compounds it by coming on like a weird mutation of THE CLASH's Mick Jones and Spook from 'TOP CAT.'
So far, so hackneyed, then. But then, someplace around the middle of the set, a weird epiphany occurs. Firstly, bar the drum sound, the mix improves miraculously, allowing those magical Californian harmonies some space to breathe and the fact that the BEACHWOOD SPARKS obviously dozed off sometime around 1972 suddenly seems like a blessing rather than a curse.
Indeed, with even Mr.Skinsman sloughing off his slumber, the final five song home strait presents luscious aural stimulation and the sound of influences actually being transcended. Happily, they're delighted to return for a cool,two-song encore, beginning with a great deconstruction of SADE's "By Your Side" and a going-the-whole-hog charge through NEIL YOUNG & CRAZY HORSE's "Looking For A Love".
And, looking genuinely rueful that they have to go, that's it. Having won us over with their irrepressible harmonies, never-ending affability and uncanny way with melody that only true West Coasters can get away with, BEACHWOOD SPARKS are ultimately a band with two distinct sides. Thankfully, tonight their warm pop balm was eventually powerful enough to wipe away the scuffed,stoner-rock tendencies.
Somehow, I think even the Celtic fans would admire dedication like that.
|
