Wielding an acoustic Guild guitar and a hard-bound notebook filled with set-lists and scribblings, Evan Dando took to the Old Rock House stage last night with his typical insouciant stage presence. With little more than a “hello”, the Lemonhead’s front-man delved into his prodigious catalogue of songs; playing one song after another (sometimes abruptly silencing the last chord before systematically beginning the next tune – much in the same vain as The Ramones or even Springsteen). His cool, smooth, and rounded vocals remain Dando’s forte, crooned over sometimes simple and other times elaborate chord structures. Either way, the iconic Dando remains a songwriting staple for a good many St. Louisans as proved by the generous crowd.
Dando, for me, has been there since the beginning. My musical taste didn’t necessarily begin with the thunderous Zeppelin-like bands, but more-so the goofy, awkward, teen-angst-inspired medleys of the Blake Babies, Sebadoh, and the Lemonheads. Throw in a dose of the Cure, the Smith’s, and the Lightning Seeds and I was certainly on a distinct path to start writing a series of bad poems. The purview of songwriting never quite made sense to me until a few years ago when I sat down with an old friend who “simplified” the process for me. We began with the country standards, quickly moving forward to the likes of Todd Snider, Adam Carroll, and Slaid Cleaves, who remain for me, the apogee of what every artist is trying to accomplish – memorable melodies and plain, simple, human truths.
Evan Dando and the Lemonheads continue to procure those same emotions, the same TRUTHS that were so evident in my younger years. His songs (especially played acoustically) resound with timelessness. They are tinged with a certain song-writer’s history, reminiscent of Steve Earle, Neil Young, and Townes Van Zandt (which he has recently covered on his latest album Varshons). Without overindulging the evening, Dando reassured me of his greatness – his ability to write catchy, meaningful truths in the form of a pop song. It is not by sheer happenstance that he remains an éclat of great achievement, in spite of the bibulous days in the early 2000’s when he forced himself upon live Oasis shows as the drunken tambourine player (only to be “fired” by the band when he was discovered throwing glass beer bottles at exiting fans from the venues’ roof). In many respects, he rudders my very own craft both consciously and subconsciously. Just listen to “Rudderless” and tell me there is no hint or likeness to the Dive Poet’s “The End.” And I’ll call you a liar.
* Opening the evening – The Candles. Check them out here and enjoy a free download: www.redmusic.com/thecandles
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