Fitz and the Tantrums and a Saturday Night

Fitz and Tantrums played the Music Farm on Saturday evening, and I was there with my vodka-tonic and strappy heels. Both efforts were worth the outing.

Walking in, there was already a band playing. Large drums, great musicality, and suddenly, I was listening more to The Royal Teeth than I was wondering who this was. They were mesmerizing. They were young, They interacted with the crowd. They sounded vaguely like someone I'd heard before, but of course, I hadn't. But that was OK. The hook was already set. I liked them.

But when ZZ Ward hit the stage, I quit making small talk. I quit worrying about people cutting in front of me on the way to the bathroom. She was blues in the backroom, energy, tight lyrics, but an old soul.

ZZ Ward playing The Music Farm. Photo by Holly Thorpe

I've added her to my playlist -- in fact, she's playing right now as I write this. She is my new personal theme music. Don't act like you don't know what that is. You know that soundtrack you have in your head that plays as the movie that is your life plays? Yep. That's the one.

But finally, the crowd favorite came on. Fitz and the Tantrums took the stage, and the capacity crowd was ecstatic. People around me knew every lyric to every song. They held their hands up; they waved their beer bottles in the sky; they cheered at every ending.

The band had just come from Bonnaroo, straight from actually, and while they were musically on their game, there wasn't a lot of small talk, but everything sounded like studio quality -- or better. They are not a movement, or a scene, or anything else. They play music, and lots of people liked their music.

Their sounds is at once modern and retro, and beyond just their hit "Moneygrabber." It's out of space and time, really, the sound of Saturday night when the moon is high and you're ready to leave the house. There is a chemistry there, a promise of something more, something you can't help but notice. It may be shouting or it may be kissing, but there's really not that much difference between them. It was Saturday night after all.

Sounds of a Professional

I've heard a good bit of live music through the years. It's almost always been earnest, usually fun, and sometimes the promise of something bigger. But what I heard last Wed. at the Village Tavern in Mount Pleasant was professional. It was standing out from the crowd.

You know how these things work, right? You get in for a small cover, stand around and wait for the opening act to start (it's always late) and you try to find a spot you can stake out. And then if you're me, you think about how late it is and what you have to do tomorrow and how happy that there's now no smoking in bars and restaurants anymore and maybe, how you wish you wore flats, but yes, the boots are just too great to not wear. And then you wait a little more, trying not to look like you came too early.

But when Sarah Lee and Johnny came on stage, things were different. It wasn't live music, it was a concert. And Vetiver was backing them up. Lots of people on one tiny stage. Tight harmonies, great songwriting, and a full sound that made it feel like this was a night to remember. Even if your feet hurt and it was late for a week night. This was a moment not to be missed (especially since I was sharing it with my great friend Holly).

If you want to know who they are and learn a little about them, read my article in Charleston Scene that gives you the scoop. Hint: Sarah Lee's last name is Guthrie.

Blantant plug for new music

OK -- it's the weepy, cold-for-days time of winter when we're all tired of the gray and the coats and the wind. I know, I know. I live in Charleston, so therefore I should be thankful I'm not having a snow-for-days kind of winter. But, hey, it's still winter. And I'm still tired of it.

Here is the music you need to listen to now. Now, Now (the band). They're from Minnesota, so they understand this whole "winter" concept. And you will want to listen to them even when the weather gets warmer.

I have been fortunate as of late to interview a lot of musicians, and I have heard some wonderful music. But Now, Now is a band I consider a discovery. I didn't know about them, and now I do. And now I listen to them. And they have an album in vinyl (just in case you're interested, Sean).

I know I'm being didactic, but so it is. Read the article, and then, perhaps, give Now, Now a listen.

Brandi Carlile Got a Charleston Homecoming

Yes, I know, singer/songwriter Brandi Carlile is from the opposite side of the country, not Charleston, S.C. But when she took the stage last evening, she didn't realize we had been waiting for her all this time. She does now and seemed genuinely happy and at home with the at-capacity crowd that filled the Music Farm.

In my concert preview article in last week's Charleston Scene, I quoted Brandi as saying that sometimes a concert is "gut wrenching and sometimes it's just a party."

Last night, Brandi threw us a party.

She threw numerous picks into the audience as the finale for songs. She whipped the cord of her electric guitar around like a tail. She laughed with bandmates, talked between songs, and at one point, asked the crowd with a laugh, "What would you like to hear? The set list has pretty much gone to shit at this point!"

People shouted. Brandi made eye contact and listened. And she played the songs that had been requested. And then she played more. And what is a good party without a Johnny Cash song? Well, not good enough, the band thought, so they threw in the most awesome (yes, I am a writer and should come up with a fresh term here, but, well, it WAS most awesome) version of "Folsom Prison Blues" that has ever been played outside of Folsom Prison.

Thanks Brandi. Y'all come back now, ya hear?