A.A. Bondy at The Social
A.A. Bondy
The Social, 21 October 2009
Just got back from seeing A.A. Bondy at the tiny club The Social (sorry for the rubbish photo btw!) and I thought I'd quickly write something about it since I'm seeing him again tomorrow with The Felice Brothers.
The Social, 21 October 2009
Just got back from seeing A.A. Bondy at the tiny club The Social (sorry for the rubbish photo btw!) and I thought I'd quickly write something about it since I'm seeing him again tomorrow with The Felice Brothers.
Other than his music, Bondy was somewhat a mystery to me. I knew he was once in a rock band called Verbena and had changed style to a far more stripped down, acoustic, Dylanesque approach for his debut solo outing, the fantastic American Hearts (one of my favourite albums from last year), but that was it. It was also apparent to me that musically Bondy is doing kind of thing I wish Ryan Adams was still doing: beautiful, heartfelt, melancholy laments, simply sang and arranged. It turns out Bondy in the flesh, rather than tortured troubadour or Adams-style country shambles, is a true Southern fellow full of charm, bad jokes and smiles. Skinny, dark-haired and wearing a plaid shirt, he also looks pretty cool.
The Social is a tiny club, best known as the record label Heavenly's venue of choice (indeed artists from the label such as Saint Etienne and The Magic Numbers are all playing there soon), but seems a strange place to host gigs, with an awkward layout downstairs meaning the stage is tiny and the toilets are bizarrely situated behind it. Still its size meant the gig was nicely intimate and backed with just a drummer (who also could play pedal steel, not at the same time I hasten to add) and a bassist, it was simple and sweet, much like Bondy's two albums. But whereas there's a sadness and longing to Bondy's voice (which has a Westerberg-esque twang to it), the in-between song banter was friendly and jovial (he also endeared himself to me, upon finding that the opening notes of one of his best songs, There's a Reason, reminded him of Fleetwood Mac, decided to introduce it as their song).
The songs themselves are just beautiful, raw, fragile and minimalist, the records feel like Bondy is singing them to you in a small room, and the intimate nature of the venue allowed that to almost become a reality. There's still a few signs of the rocker of old though, with There's A Reason seeing his semi-acoustic Guild guitar building up to a distortion-filled ragged end and To The Sea filled with glorious atmospheric feedback in the background, although oddly enough, I Can See The Pines Are Dancing, the most upbeat moment on new album When The Devil's Loose's, was stripped bare and slowed down. It sounded lovely but it's probably the only slight disappointment of the night, as the album version is just perfect.
Elsewhere he amusingly introduced the drugs-ode Vice Rag as a Warren Zevon song and played gorgeous covers of Hank Williams' I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry (which sounds startlingly like he could have written it himself) and Tom Waits' Hang Down Your Head. On top of this he told terrible jokes: "what do you call a Mexican with a rubber toe?" he asked us. "Roberto!" he deadpanned.
The Social is a tiny club, best known as the record label Heavenly's venue of choice (indeed artists from the label such as Saint Etienne and The Magic Numbers are all playing there soon), but seems a strange place to host gigs, with an awkward layout downstairs meaning the stage is tiny and the toilets are bizarrely situated behind it. Still its size meant the gig was nicely intimate and backed with just a drummer (who also could play pedal steel, not at the same time I hasten to add) and a bassist, it was simple and sweet, much like Bondy's two albums. But whereas there's a sadness and longing to Bondy's voice (which has a Westerberg-esque twang to it), the in-between song banter was friendly and jovial (he also endeared himself to me, upon finding that the opening notes of one of his best songs, There's a Reason, reminded him of Fleetwood Mac, decided to introduce it as their song).
Elsewhere he amusingly introduced the drugs-ode Vice Rag as a Warren Zevon song and played gorgeous covers of Hank Williams' I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry (which sounds startlingly like he could have written it himself) and Tom Waits' Hang Down Your Head. On top of this he told terrible jokes: "what do you call a Mexican with a rubber toe?" he asked us. "Roberto!" he deadpanned.
A lovely night. As Neil Young might say: long may he run.
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