Friday, 27 November 2009
Ry Cooder
Brisbane Convention Centre 21 November 2009
Next thing we know he'll be masking regular updates to his MySpace page and finding friends on FaceBook.
Well, maybe not quite, but even twelve months ago anyone suggesting that Ry Cooder would be resuming the life of a touring muso any time soon would have drawn a resounding You're kidding! No way, get real from just about anybody with a reasonable knowledge of the man and his work.
By late 2008 as far as anybody could tell Mr Cooder had settled into a comfortable semiretirement in Santa Monica, filling in the days writing short stories about L.A. and indulging in the odd recording project if he had some ideas that he figured might fly.
Actually, who could blame him?
High ratings of his series of critically acclaimed albums through the seventies failed to translate into commercial success, working on movie soundtracks was apparently, according to the man's comments in a recent interview, a rather harrowing experience and working live took him away from home for much longer than he would have preferred.
Had he chosen to do so, Cooder could have made a comfortable living from studio sessions in L.A. but one suspects that the constant need to come up with something new for each session would have put the kibosh on that as a long-term proposition.
Yet, there he was on stage with Nick Lowe at Brisbane's Convention Centre on a Saturday night in late November 2009, and from the opening Fool Who Knows it seemed like he was thoroughly enjoying himself.
Much of the credit for that, one suspects, lies with the & Nick Lowe with Joachim Cooder on the billing.
It might be stretching things a bit far to suggest that the night was as much about Mr Lowe as it was about Cooder, but it's obvious Nick deserves a fair bit of credit for luring reclusive Ryland back into live performance mode.
For a start, Lowe's repertoire gives Cooder something new to play around with, and from the solo in the middle of Fool Who Knows it seemed the man was enjoying the opportunity to add something to someone else's material.
With the first number out of the way, Lowe's ability to step in and deliver a classy line in wry stage patter takes a fair bit of the spotlight away from a man who one suspects is quite happy to have it deflected somewhere else.
Fool For A Cigarette and Feelin' Good were delivered with a fair amount of animation, and there was a definite vibe of Pop's sneaked out behind the kids' backs and he's gonna have a little fun playing some down and dirty guitar throughout proceedings.
Along those lines, Vigilante Man showed that the night was more about feeling than perfect on-stage reproductions of the recorded version, and Lowe's Losin' Boy provided another chance to step back from the spotlight.
Juliette Commagere and band had delivered an impressive half-hour or so opening set, heavy on atmospheric swathes of keyboards with Joachim (a.k.a. the busiest drummer in Brisbane tonight)'s driving beat and she was back on stage for Chinito Chinito and much of the rest of the set, contributing backing vocals and assorted percussion along with her keyboard player.
Extremely easy on the eye and a classy contributor as far as the vocal harmonies are concerned.
The party had been in Brisbane for a couple of days, which may explain the frequent Holden references throughout Crazy 'Bout An Automobile. One suspects, from his remarks, that Ry's a ute man.
I bought Lowe’s Dig My Mood a couple of years back and wasn't overwhelmed by it, being more of a Jesus of Cool Cruel To Be Kind man, so I'm not totally au fait with Lowe's repertoire. My notes have the following track as One Of These Days, though a glance at the Tokyo set-list suggests the title may well be You Gotta Pay.
I think I got the title right for Crying in My Sleep.
Down In Hollywood gave everybody on stage an opportunity to shake some ass, and Lowe's intro to Half A Boy and Half A Man (Number one for three glorious weeks .... in Belgium) was further proof of the man's wry sense of humour.
One suspects Shrinkin' Man, a new Cooder composition, ties in with his L.A. short story writing the same way that I, Flathead does, and prompted me to curse the fact that the book of short stories on sale at gigs in Europe hadn't made it to the merch stand.
I had checked, asking specifically.
Across The Borderline was moving, and not just in the light of recent events, while the bush-fire conditions in southern Australia meant that Lowe wouldn't have been the only one to hope It's Raining when they hit Sydney.
After Jesus on The Mainline we got another topical element when it came to FDR in Trinidad, and I'm using the Tokyo set-list when I suggest it was followed by Impossiblo> He'll Have To Go. The latter's definite, but it's impossible to say whether the Spanish number sung by Juliette was actually Impossiblo...
A fun run through the 13 Question Method closed the main set, and the encore kicked off with a slowed down (What's So Funny About) Peace, Love & Understanding.
Given its status as the closest thing Ry's had to a hit single it was no surprise to find Little Sister up next, and there was no way that anything could have followed How Can A Poor Man Stand Such Times And Live.
Glancing around the auditorium there were a number of vacant seats, so there were way too many people who missed the chance to see one of the world's great guitarists on stage and very close to his best form.
As a long term fan, the stunning solo in How Can A Poor Man.... came as no surprise.
Single keening drawn out notes that run in and out of the melody line are a Cooder trademark when it comes to soloing in slower numbers (I'd point anyone towards John Hiatt's Lipstick Sunset as an example of what I'm talking about) but that last number of the night was jaw-dropping tears to the eyes stuff.
If I had to fault anything about the evening it wouldn't be something coming from the stage. The Brisbane Convention Centre is a comfortable venue, but it was obvious on the night that the place was running with a skeleton staff.
Toilets that are usually open were shut, with no indication to warn the public that they'd need to go elsewhere and save themselves a walk. In much the same way bars that were open when we caught Elvis Costello a month before were inexplicably closed, and the queue at the one that was open was horrendous.
And when the obligatory idiot started his forays across the space between the front row and the stage there was no sign of anyone from Security suggesting that he might care to cease and desist lest he find himself departing.
