Richmond Fontaine at Bush Hall
Richmond Fontaine
Peter Bruntnell
Bush Hall, 4 March 2010
Peter Bruntnell
Bush Hall, 4 March 2010
I have to admit I'm not sure who I'm more in love with: Willy Vlautin the songwriter or Willy Vlautin the storyteller. Willy, you see, has written three books in addition to his career fronting forlorn alt-country band Richmond Fontaine and his books are like his songs turned into sad little movies: all desert towns full of loss, regret and beautiful losers.
Which makes perfect sense since alternately his songs are like Paris, Texas made into music - yes, that hypnotic, evocative and emotionally powerful. There's not many songwriters around today who are able draw you into a story through their words and music, it fact, aside from Springsteen and a few notable others, it appears to be a lost art. Sure, some may be worthy of being called poets, but there's a difference between poetry and storytelling because poetry only needs to convey a feeling not characters or situations, a little world for you to step into inside a song. Vlautin is certainly more than capable of doing this and although the worlds within his songs are filled with desperate people in often hopeless situations, they are always so heartfelt and full of compassion, it's never a place you don't want to visit.
Funny then that live, Richmond Fontaine may often be singing about unhappy lives and unwanted people, but their shows are happy, joyous affairs played with feeling and passion. But then, there's always a glimmer of hope in Vlautin's writing and performing live this comes through more powerfully than on record.
Out promoting their most recent record, the awesomely titled We Used To Think The Freeway Sounded Like A River (see what I mean about storytelling? Even that title tells a story), the grinning band run through quite a bit of the new album, including such stand-outs as Lonnie, 43 and, probably their most upbeat track ever, You Can Move Back Here. Under the dazzle of Bush Hall's overly regal chandeliers, they seem especially atmospheric, conjuring up the feeling of the gaudy faded sparkle of the gambling towns where many of Vlautin's tales take place and the audience seem suitably mesmerised and transported into the stories.
There are some lovely light-hearted moments too though: Willy offers to sell his Allman Brother-lookalike guitarist to anyone in the audience who makes an offer; he momentarily forgets the words to the heartbreaking but wordy Laramie, Wyoming, briefly breaking the mood to chuckle at his sudden memory loss and the band break out the whiskey to toast 15 years of Richmond Fontaine, with much warmth and happiness on stage. But these are all brief interludes to the music, which is rich, raw and beautiful, with the band digging out tracks from their last four albums ending on an incredible, soaring Western Skyline, which rises into a gorgeous Neil Youngian crescendo of crashing guitars and ringing pedal steel and a voice full of longing. Words and music rarely sound so sweet, so perfect. It's a beautiful moment, and just for those seconds it's clear that Willy Vlautin the songwriter wins out. But the next time I get lost in one his stories, I'll probably change my mind yet again.
As for Peter Bruntnell, I had never heard him before but playing sophisticated acoustic, country-tinged rock (and no less than seven albums under his belt) it seems strange that, like Richmond Fontaine, he seems relatively unknown. But sometimes it's nice to have a few little musical secrets we can call our own, which is definitely how I feel about Richmond Fontaine: under-appreciated but loved by the few of us in the know. For now they belong to us.
Which makes perfect sense since alternately his songs are like Paris, Texas made into music - yes, that hypnotic, evocative and emotionally powerful. There's not many songwriters around today who are able draw you into a story through their words and music, it fact, aside from Springsteen and a few notable others, it appears to be a lost art. Sure, some may be worthy of being called poets, but there's a difference between poetry and storytelling because poetry only needs to convey a feeling not characters or situations, a little world for you to step into inside a song. Vlautin is certainly more than capable of doing this and although the worlds within his songs are filled with desperate people in often hopeless situations, they are always so heartfelt and full of compassion, it's never a place you don't want to visit.
Funny then that live, Richmond Fontaine may often be singing about unhappy lives and unwanted people, but their shows are happy, joyous affairs played with feeling and passion. But then, there's always a glimmer of hope in Vlautin's writing and performing live this comes through more powerfully than on record.
There are some lovely light-hearted moments too though: Willy offers to sell his Allman Brother-lookalike guitarist to anyone in the audience who makes an offer; he momentarily forgets the words to the heartbreaking but wordy Laramie, Wyoming, briefly breaking the mood to chuckle at his sudden memory loss and the band break out the whiskey to toast 15 years of Richmond Fontaine, with much warmth and happiness on stage. But these are all brief interludes to the music, which is rich, raw and beautiful, with the band digging out tracks from their last four albums ending on an incredible, soaring Western Skyline, which rises into a gorgeous Neil Youngian crescendo of crashing guitars and ringing pedal steel and a voice full of longing. Words and music rarely sound so sweet, so perfect. It's a beautiful moment, and just for those seconds it's clear that Willy Vlautin the songwriter wins out. But the next time I get lost in one his stories, I'll probably change my mind yet again.
As for Peter Bruntnell, I had never heard him before but playing sophisticated acoustic, country-tinged rock (and no less than seven albums under his belt) it seems strange that, like Richmond Fontaine, he seems relatively unknown. But sometimes it's nice to have a few little musical secrets we can call our own, which is definitely how I feel about Richmond Fontaine: under-appreciated but loved by the few of us in the know. For now they belong to us.
Wow. It sounded like an awesome concert. I really liked how you summed up Willy Vlautin's storytelling style of songwriting. And you are right, nobody else really does it anymore.
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