You can't name an event the Murder Ballad Ball and skimp on the atmosphere. Lace, booze, blood and a gigantic dollop of gothic irony: all four were churning strong at the second incarnation of the Murder Ballad Ball on Saturday night. Last year's ball mourned the untimely death of Pretty Polly, but this year found our dead victim avenged, with a slew of gothic Americana and Southern-tinged rock and roll.
The atmosphere - low lights, exposed brick and acoustic-death song strains weaving in and out of murmured conversation - whispered scotch-on-rocks insistently; but a large part of the ball-goers traded in highballs for tall PBRs (four-dollar special, yo!) and were hobnobbing about in net veils, red lipstick, fingerless gloves, cowboy and bowler hats, and ruffles. This is to say nothing of the creative facial hair that graced Crosstown Station, either: true-life mustaches and grizzled beards abounded.
One must admire the bravery and fortitude of a real, honest-to-god mustache. Especially that of the guy with a whip and steampunk goggles, standing on the gallows, looking on as Tin Horn Molly sang about planting an ax in their baby's head. "That was a Misfits song," said the band's mustachioed leader, when they finished. (It was "American Nightmare.") "Cause modern-day murder ballads count, too, right?"
The band suffered from a few intonation problems, singing-wise; but the most glaring failure was, sadly, the whip-cracking dude. (I was rooting for you, man.) Occasionally, he'd thwack the whip on the ground at the right intervals, but actually cracking it seemed to be a bit more challenging than it had in rehearsal. A skittering sound of something dropping interrupted the band's low-slung, gothic acoustic numbers, which sounded a little bit like imitations of Murder By Death - an appropriate goal to shoot for, no doubt.
Long set changes stemmed the flow of the Murder Ballad Ball, but it was completely understandable: most of the musicians mingled in the crowd in between sets, scampering up on stage between drinks and conversations. Creaky early jazz - say, Django Reinhardt, maybe -- played softly as a blue curtain floated over the stage. Abigail Henderson commented on the low, blue lights: "I feel like I'm on an airplane tarmac," she said, before Tiny Horse laid into its soulful ballads with soaring slide guitar. The result was eerie and foreboding, like a stormy horizon on the plains. Henderson's voice howled like Neko Case's, chilling in an arm-hair-raising way.
"There's a gallows up in here. Did you notice that?" Henderson quipped between songs.
A drunk voice from the crowd surmised, "Someone's gonna die."
"It's got me curious," said Chris Meck.
Though Tiny Horses' songs tamed the conversation a bit, the crowd was still insufferably loud. Henderson and Meck didn't seem to be bothered, though. The duo invited the Columns on stage with them - a bleeding of talent that would be repeated throughout the night - to play their last few songs; notably, Blue Oyster Cult's "Last Days of May."
"I loved Blue Oyster Cult when I was like, fourteen. I saw them open for Rush," said Meck.
The crowd cheered.
"Yeah. I saw Rush," Meck admitted.
A guy in the crowd yelled, "I was there, man!"
Meck pointed at him. "I'm with you, bro."
"Every band I've ever been in, I've wanted to cover this song and they wouldn't let me," said Meck. "So I thought this would be as good an excuse as any."
A woman in the crowd laughed, and said: "Good. Because I would totally veto that shit."
Another notable classic rock cover: the Columns' version of the Beatles' "Run For Your Life." Bill Sundahl and his band chose one of the best paranoid Lennon songs, and added an alt-rock snarl brought out the song's true, ruthless nature. The Columns' backwater swamp glow fit the Murder Ballad Ball perfectly. In a stroke of inspired genius, someone dragged out a musical saw, adding a perfect dissonant touch that almost sounded like Tom Waits and Nick Cave taking a round of whiskey shots together.
Betse Ellis and Howard Iceberg joined the Columns onstage. Iceberg said: "I had this really bad dream 15 years ago, and this woman was really battered and bruised every day. And then she was dead, and I was at her funeral, and in her casket she turned into the Statue of Liberty. And I thought, that's what's happening to our country. It's called 'Dark Flowers.'" (I might be wrong, but one of my favorite lines was: He offered her a bouquet of dark red flowers / and throttled her by the throat. Awesome.)
Tony Ladesich took the stage next, sounding a little bit like the Drive-By Truckers' side project, with perfectly melodic vocals with a cigarette-tinged edge. With a tight song structure and focused narrative, Ladesich's "Midnight Moon" was more arresting than some five-piece bands can be. Ladesich's original murder ballads nailed the murky woe of rural depression: Empty bottle in front of me / empty heart deep inside of me. Another great line: Blisters on my hand / I swing an old ditch blade.
"I write a frightening amount of songs where people get killed," admitted Ladesich.
Ladesich also ripped out a Pendergast song - I am a union man -- with the help of Lin Buck's bluesy noodling on the piano. ("Lin pours the good onto everything," said Ladesich. "No pressure, but if Lin ever quits Faster Horses, then Faster Horses is done. Just sayin'.") Random howls from the crowd punctuated Ladesich's guitar, which was heavy, dark and surprisingly sensitive. The two Faster Horses also previewed a song from In The Cuff, from the new Faster Horses album. "I tend to write about people in desperate times," said Ladesich. "Desperate times call for desperate measures." It sounded a little bit like John Mellencamp's small town ballads -- except, you know, if Mellecamp's Jack and Diane were robbing a liquor store instead of eating ice cream and kissing behind a Dairy King.
Next, Mark Smeltzer's instruments that were up for raffle - that is, a one string upright bass with a map of Kansas and Missouri on it, an electric banjo, "John Brown" drums, and another instrument I missed, while the speaker confessed that she killed a man in 1995 - were played on a shambling, hoarse rendition of a song about one of murder's finest inspirations: whiskey. Whiskey, whiskey, whiskey / you'll be the death of me. If hell had a country orchestra, this would be it.
Two people in the crowd head-butted each other in anticipation of Radio City's set, where the guitarist played with a bottle of Budweiser. Out of nowhere, several bros crawled out of the woodwork, looking sorely out of place - like a guy in a backwards white hat, grinding on his girlfriend with devil horns in the air for the majority of Radio City's set. There's nothing wrong with trying to shake up the low-key vibe that pervaded the night, but rock and roll killed (har, har) the acoustic-death vibe and the smoky kitsch of '20s-flavored death ballads. The Silver Maggies brought the backwater flavor back to the stage, with Southern-fried alt-rock delivered by grizzled guys in plaid.
By the time I scurried home, two and a half hours later, Pretty Polly's Revenge had stopped sounding like the name of a creepy ballad, and started to resemble a nickname for the hangover - emotional and alcoholic - that I'd be subjected to in the grim morning light. We all have our moments of weakness, man.
Critics' Bias: Want an overshare? I'd already had a mental breakdown that night for reasons entirely unrelated to murder, ballads, and local music, and the entire show was filtered through a lens of booze, exhaustion and a dull, thudding headache. Fun times.
Overheard in the Crowd: Above a strong current of murmuring conversation? See above.
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This was such an unusual event, I enjoyed every minute of it! I agree with Michael, wonderful writing and beautiful photography!
It was quite a bit of fun and mayhem.
Thanks to all involved!
Have saw, will travel.
@Nate: Yeah, unfortunately. It sucked. The lineup was killer, but I was about to keel over.
Alacartoona- ACES always! True musical madness..Chris and Cadillac Flambe were fantastic and the man HUNG HIMSELF...that is dedication..for reals. The Delighted also played, a tasty new ensemble.The Calamity Cubes always bring it, and true to form, brought it Saturday night. All stomp n howl and great! And TYTL; Mr. Hendrix is a frontman's frontman and every time I see him, there's a little more Locke in him...and that's a good thing!
All around spot on brilliant night Dutch and Chris!
Thank you, Lady Elke, for the kind words.
AND..ps-Lin Buck turns everything to gold...just sayn..
Did you leave early? No mention of Alcartoona, Cadillac Flambe, Calamity Cubes or Them Damned Young Livers playing later that night.
Always nice to be quoted in "The Pitch": I was the guy in the crowd that was at the Rush/BOC gig that Chris Meck spoke of. Ah, good times at Kemper Arena.
Misspellings of names aside (and given the "critics' bias" admission it's totally understandable - hope all's well now), the author does a magnificent job of capturing the mood of the evening, with Brooke Vandever's photos offering superb illustration. For that many bands and artists to step up to the plate and perform songs in a genre that may not necessarily be their forte, it showed once again the depth and quality of music available in my hometown. The theatric theme was delivered in style on and off stage. This town loves to play dress-up - and is damn good at it.
Congrats to one and all involved in putting on this performance. It was a killer.
While you are correcting spelling, it's actually Mark Smeltzer. You got Tony's name right which not many people do, but missed it in the bold spelling. Correct is Tony Ladesich.
I understand your pain, the MBB put me down all day Sunday so I wasn't going to say anything :)
Gah, I'm sorry! I'm a frequent victim of name misspelling, too. I feel Lin's pain. I'll fix 'er up right away.
He's long used to having his name misspelled and would likely let it slide, but my brother's name is Lin Buck, not "Lynn". Tony is absolutely correct that Lin "pours the good onto everything" and it's great to see him getting some long-deserved respect. Glad to hear he and Tony had a great gig at the Murder Ballad Ball.
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