How good is April Smith and the Great Picture Show? So good I skipped both a
Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band show and a
HaSkaLA gig across town to see them again. That good. (Steven Schub and his boisterous band can forgive me, because I had already purchased a ticket to see April and her combo at the Hotel Cafe in Hollywood before the ska show was announced and April was making her only area appearance of the year, but if it had been almost any other performer, I would have considered the fifteen dollars a sunk cost and skipped it. Additionally, the visually arresting Black Beverly Heels were playing downtown. This is the best kind of dilemma and one of the reasons why I live in this fallen city.)
For anyone at all familiar with me or my writing, that should be self-explanatory (and for anyone unfamiliar, click on the links, and it will be self-explanatory). Since I've already heaped accolades on the silky-voiced chanteuse and her versatile band elsewhere, there's no reason to repeat myself, and few had the opportunity to read my previews
bon mots, I'll simply reproduce the older pieces below.
With a slightly different lineup (April didn't introduce the band this time, but bassist Steve Purpuri juggled his upright and electric basses as usual), the quintet crammed themselves and their gear onto the tiny Hotel Cafe stage once more for a forty-seven minute set similar to the recent area performances recounted below. The arrangements were similar if slightly slower, with more of a keyboard presence. (April, who is pregnant and is about to take maternity leave after this, her only tour this year, mentioned during the set that singing is more challenging with each passing day, which could account for the slightly slower arrangements even though I'd like to think the subtle tempo shift is due to artistic reasons.) The group did dust off "High School Memory" from April's first (solo) album
loveletterbombs (Indigo Planet, 2005). April (whose between-song patter is as direct and sassy as her lyrics) noted that her father wrote the song for her mother forty years ago (and they're still together, proving the pessimistic trepidation of the title and lyrics unfounded). She also noted that she wrote the blithe, bouncy "Can't Say No" (from 2010's independent
Songs for a Sinking Ship) for her dog (which is so subtextual that the most perceptive listener would never ascertain it without her help).
After the set, I said hello to April (an old acquaintance from the east coast) at the merchandise booth. I acquired the recent vinyl pressing of
Songs for a Sinking Ship (the group played nine of its songs during the show). An archetypal example of a twenty-first century album, the Kickstarter-financed label-less platter's vinyl release was long overdue (the band's vintage contemporary sound was tailor-made for a modern vinyl release, and the label of the compact disc version even has the image of a record). At fifteen dollars, the vinyl couldn't be a better value: it includes a free digital download and a bonus track ("Bright White Jackets" originally appeared on
loveletterbombs, but I cannot yet confirm that it is the same recording).
Reproduced below: a review of their previous Hotel Cafe appearance (a year to the day before last night's) and a review of their November 19, 2010 Bootleg Theater set. The photos: April and I after the Bootleg Theater set (taken by HaSkaLA's Steven Schub), April's handwritten setlist for the 2011 Hotel Cafe gig, and April's handwritten setlist for last night's show (including new song "Bottoms Up" and Dusty Springfield's "You Don't Own Me") atop the gorgeous vinyl.
April Smith and the Great Picture Show
Hotel Cafe
Hollywood
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Movie Loves a Screen
Drop Dead Gorgeous
Terrible Things
Stop Wondering
You Don't Own Me
Colors
Dixie Boy
Can't Say No
High School Memory
Bottoms Up
What'll I Do
Wow and Flutter (interpolating Whole Lotta Love)
These Musicians Still Love a Stage: April Smith and the Great Picture Show at the Hotel Cafe
Unfortunately, they have outgrown the stages on which they still play.
April Smith and the Great Picture Show, perhaps New York's finest
inchoate musical ensemble, crammed their diverse assortment of
instruments onto the cramped, diminutive stage of the claustrophobic and
meretricious Hotel Cafe in Hollywood on Tuesday evening. If they had
arrived around a decade-and-a-half earlier, they would have had at least
a fighting chance to graduate to the Hollywood Bowl, where they
belong. In 2011, one must take them where one can get them.
It would be difficult to share too much without repeating myself, as the
sassy chanteuse and her versatile backing trio played a set that was
disappointingly similar to their last two Los Schmengeles performances
(and a bit shorter than the last one). Whether due to poor acoustics,
poor mixing, this reporter's poor mood, road fatigue, or a confluence of
the aforementioned factors (and/or others), their effect was not quite
as stunning and transcendent, this time. But it is always a privliege
to hear the heterogeneous quartet perform their ebullient, ageless, and
timeless tunes in these dank, dolorous, trend-specific times.
The too-short thirty-five minute set kicked off, after four minutes
of some desultory open chords and other warming up, with the usual
opener "Movie Loves a Screen," the first track from last year's
Songs For a Sinking Ship (no
label, at least not one that can be ascertained from the packaging).
The understated song is a good introduction to Smith's Freddie
Mercury-meets-Sixties-girl-groups-meets-forties-girl-groups songwriting
and singing style, but it seems to be locked into the opening slot
(where it is becoming predictable if not anticlimactic this long after
the disc's release after this many return trips to the area). Much can
be said about the artful songwriting, though, including the deft touch
of using the song's title only once in the lyrics, in the bridge.
Guitarist Marty O'Kane sported a ukelele for this one (as he would
later, to lesser effect). The title's filmic theme is also apropos for
the group's entire ouevre, as their sartorial eloquence and
instrumental palette (bassist Steve "Stevens" Purpuri plays an upright
bass, as he often does) conjure images of the class, eloquence, dignity,
and articulation of old Hollywood (the way the group's lesser peers
evoke the egalitarian everymen and -women of the one we're stuck with
now).
After greeting the audience, Smith asked the sound
engineer for more vintage reverb, and the group treated the audience to
their lively rendition of Dusty Springfield's "You Don't Own Me," the
first of the show's two cover versions. O'Kane and Purpuri successfully
switched to Fenders, underscoring the song's sixties edge. Smith's
soaring voice, on this piece as well as her own, must be heard and not
read about. (You may have heard her singing "You Don't Own Me" in a
television commercial. Perhaps you have been so fortunate.) The other
cover, Trey Songz's "Bottoms Up," featured multitasker O'Kane on
accordion (which he passed back and forth with multitasking drummer
Nicky D'Agostino throughout the show).
Unfortunately, the truncated concert once again completely ignorned April's first album,
loveletterbombs
(Indigo Planet Records, 2005), released without the "Great Picture
Show" name. (April's handwritten setlist was longer, and it, too,
completely ignored the first album, except for "The One That Got Away,"
which is on last year's disc as well.) Yes, nostalgia is death, but
acknowledging one's past is not nostalgia. Songs like "Something" and
"The Bells" would have knocked the stereotypically jaded and apathetic
Hollywood audience out the door off of stage left and onto Cahuenga
Boulevard. Of the recent originals that were performed, "Drop Dead
Gorgeous" was a highlight, wich an arresting if simple solo from
O'Kane. The snark of "Stop Wondering" was welcome even if its
composer's melodramatic gesticulating was a tad too ostentatious. Less
effective was predictable closer "Wow and Flutter." O'Kane's ukelele
solo sounded so much like a guitar solo one wondered about the purpose
of switching to the smaller stringed instrument simply for the solo than
strapping on the Fender Jaguar/Mustang again. Smith's usual quote of
"Whole Lotta Love" during the song's breakdown, solos, and band
introductions does not quite work, either (though she sings better than
the even-more-feminine vocalist who made the song famous). The absence
of the haunting, harrowing "Beloved," the only song from the newer disc
not planned (see below), was keenly felt.
Judging the
performance by the misguided (and short) setlist is a mistake, however.
No matter what songs they play in which order, April Smith and the
Great Picture Show are as passionate, dextrous, melodious, and
multi-instrumental as you'll find in this musical endarkenment.
Ignoring them is a mistake.
April Smith and the Great Picture Show
Hotel Cafe
Hollywood
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Movie Loves a Screen
You Don't Own Me
Terrible Things
Stop Wondering
Colors
Drop Dead Gorgeous
The One That Got Away
Bottoms Up
Wow and Flutter (including Whole Lotta Love)
April's handwritten setlist: "Can't Say No," What'll I Do," and "Dixie Boy" were sorely missed.
Musicians Love a Stage: April Smith and the Great Picture Show at the Bootleg Theater
In times like these, you
will not find the greatest artists, writers, and musicians in the
mainstream. Some of them may lurk on its fringes, but you must know
where to look for them. James Ellroy and P.J. O’Rourke can still be
found at the remaining branches of major bookstore chains, but they are
generally limited to a few copies each, inconspicuously resting on the
shelves, spines outward, far from the copious, covers-first displays
near the storefront. On television, you can hear consummate performing
artists with formidable vocal prowess, but not when you watch the
glorified karaoke singers on
American Idol (if you make that
mistake in the first place). You will hear them anonymously singing
unfamiliar songs (which they often write themselves) during commercials
for the National Football League and cable series like
Weeds.
April Smith and the Great Picture Show—who, as recently as fifteen
years ago, would have been household names—are a pertinent example of
the best musicians to be found in the post-label era. They have
independently forged a self- and fan-financed career and captivated a
relatively small but growing following who crave competent musicianship
and atavistic melody. And they have arrested the unwitting and
apathetic in television commercials: a Lesley Gore/Dusty Springfield
cover for a just-released football spot and at least two originals that
you may have already heard in others.
April Smith is
that rare gem: a dazzling songwriter with an artful, colossal voice to
match. If that conjures memories of Freddie Mercury, it is surely no
accident that songs like “Bright White Jackets” and “Beloved” owe just a
little to the plaintive piano ballads of mid-period Queen, but her
myriad influences go far beyond, from the Andrews Sisters all the way up
to herself. Indeed, her bouncy personality is even more manifest—and
breaks a skeptical audience’s indifference to even greater effect--on
her uptempo, jaunty tunes like “Colors” and “Movie Loves a Screen.”
Last night, she and her band of multi-instrumentalists captivated a
gathering of seen-it-all Angelenos at the compact but densely populated
Bootleg Theater with a forty-five minute set that galvanized every last
spectator into spirited applause, all the way down (or, more literally
and figuratively, up) to the Bootleg’s house sound engineer. (“That
never happens,” indicated my dazzled companion, a masterful performer
and songwriter in his own right.)
The versatile band
members juggle multiple instruments: the bassist, known as Stevens,
equally mans both Fender and upright basses with facile dexterity;
guitarist Marty O’Kane switches between guitar, ukelele and accordion;
keyboardist Ray Malo has his hands full with violin and the same
accordion, as well; and Nick D’Agostino navigates his modest-sized drum
kit with understated skill, equal parts jazz and rock. But no one could
take the spotlight off the frontwoman for very long.
The eleven-song set consisted of the lion’s share of this year’s
Songs for a Sinking Ship (no label—how’s that for independence?) and two well-placed cover songs [Smith’s first album, 2005's
loveletterbombs
(Indigo Planet Records), sadly seems to have disappeared from the
repertoire, perhaps because it was recorded without the Great Picture
Show--the sole exception, "The One that Got Away," appears on both
albums]. The succession of songs—in tempo and attitude—gradually and
cumulatively manifested a versatility in their creator (in equal parts
songwriting and performing capacities) that equals that of her entire
band. From the mid-tempo, contemplative contentment of “Movie Loves a
Screen” (which opened both set and album) to the dismissive snark of
“Drop Dead Gorgeous” to the tense cautionary tale “Dixie Boy” to the
ebullient love letter that is “Colors” (listen for that one during
commercial breaks as well): the singer and band exuded myriad
dispositions, but they never strayed too far from the congenial
joie de vivre
at the heart of the leader and her refreshingly anachronistic melodic
flair. In addition to the Dusty Springfield song, a slower, sparser,
affecting rendition of U2’s “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”
closed the performance with captivating poignancy that almost
approached pathos.
If you hear a sharp, strong voice
singing “You Don’t Own Me” between quarters this football season (and
recognize it when the original “Terrible Things” is audible on a
commercial for
Weeds), that is April Smith. And if you pay
attention when she comes to your metropolitan area, turn off your
television set, and attend her show, you will see and hear the most
exhilarating live music you can find in times like these.
April Smith and the Great Picture Show
Bootleg Theater
Los Angeles
Friday, November 19, 2010
Movie Loves a Screen
Drop Dead Gorgeous
Terrible Things
Stop Wondering
You Don't Own Me
Colors
Can't Say No
The One That Got Away
Dixie Boy
Wow and Flutter (including Whole Lotta Love)
I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For
