The music was incredibly uplifting, the vocals stirred my soul, the lyrics shaped stories and divulged fantasies. The melodies of keyboard, bass, drums, guitar, banjo, mandolin, and stomp boxes blended together effortlessly, as if one instrument, weaving the stories together and flawlessly bridging the gaps between songs. Even in the brief silences, the music still reverberated in my core.
From the moment Hoots and Hellmouth took the stage on Thursday night and played the first few bars of music, something struck me as being different. It took me awhile to locate the most fitting descriptive word off of the top of my head: polished. But not polished in a negative way, as the continuation of their set proved. It felt like there was order, a purpose and a place for every note, every chord, every beat of the drum, every strum of the guitar, every hum, every hoot. It was incredibly professional, flowing, captivating, as if even every song had its special nook in the set, its role in the development of the southern dream world that they were spinning for the audience.
The spell was never once broken, as they often built upon melodies in between songs, like they were meant to connect in just that way, while cleverly disguising any tuning that a band member needed to perform on his instrument. Although, I could not be certain if any tuning actually took place, as the transitions were that flawless and such actions so discrete. Even the bad jokes failed to break the spell, perhaps even enhancing it, as it gave the show a homier feel to it, as if conversing among friends at an intimate coffee house gig.
It was such a stark difference to their performance at Pearl Street Nightclub last year, in which there seemed to be more power and energy, or at least of a different sort. Then, their sound was rawer and rougher. The feet pounding on the stomp boxes seemed to command the crowd, building the energy and intensity in a kind of primal sense, similar to the powerful, assertive beats of a drum circle. So there was a noticeable change compared to Thursday’s performance: a newly developed sound, a new groove.
I had only two qualms with this musical event. One was that the drums drowned out the rough and raw beats of the stomp boxes, which was disappointing because this was one of their original charms for me. Perhaps, they could be distinguished underneath it all and were simply better blended with the music, but I could not pick them out with my untrained ear. Secondly, while the coffee house atmosphere was quite mellow and intimate, there were some songs that required and deserved far more jumping and jiving than one could accomplish in a seated position. Unfortunately, the Iron Horse Music Hall does not accommodate for dancing and the few, who were brave enough to get up to sway and bounce about, were essentially banished to the corner by the entry way. Otherwise, the floors were littered with tables and chairs, seemingly to discourage any real engagement with the music.
Overall, it was a wonderful show and I smiled inwardly all the way home, high on life and happy to be alive, to be in this present moment.
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