Author: Paul

Dave Liebman is an educator as well as a musician so of course he had to do long introductions to each song. Educators like to hear themselves talk and the good ones have a lot of great stuff to say. Liebman fits both of these bills perfectly. He performed solo at the Bop Shop tonight to the biggest house I have ever seen there.

Liebman played saxes and flute with Miles in the heady seventies. He played interpretations of couple of colors on soprano sax, choosing turbulent red and contemplative grey. He soloed on tenor sax and switched to piano to perform a beautiful version of Ornette’s “Lonely Woman.” He let the piano sustain while he soloed on top with a wooden flute. He called Ornette “the most melodic musician ever.” I would agree. Next up was Sydney Bechet’s “Petite Fleur” on soprano sax.

Liebman has played with some of jazz’s best drummers, people like Elvin Jones and Al Foster and guess what, Dave plays drums too. He sat behind the Bop Shop’s kit for a drum solo but not before talking about his favorite scene in the James Brown movie where James informs the horn players that everyone in his band is a drummer.

He finished on tenor with Coltrane’s “Peace On Earth” and then invited Bill Dobbins to join him on piano while he played “Autumn Leaves.”

Eric and Amy lived in France before settling in the Hudson Valley so we expected Amy Rigby to address the Paris terrorist attacts in her show last night in our neighbors’ living room. She opened with an aptly vulnerable version of Jackie DeShannon’s “Put A Little Love In Your Heart.” Peggi and I had front row seats, reserved for us because earlier in the day I had helped Rick move the fifty some chairs from his basement to their living room. Amy’s guitar pickup went directly to the board and she stood in front of us between the two PA speakers that served as monitors and sound system with only three pedals on the floor in front of her and no amp. We had a bird’s eye view when her foot missed the Sioux distortion pedal.

She had just returned from her hometown of Pittsburgh and did a song dedicated to the dead end possibilities of that place next and then something about growing a pair of balls and then a Nashville-bound gem with the manly lyric, “I hate every bone in her body but mine.” The brilliant “Keep it to Yourself” after that then the anthem, “Do You Remember That?” to close out the first set.

Peggi and I manned the merch booth, a white enamel-topped table in Rick and Monica’s kitchen that reminded me of Pete and Shelley’s table (shown above). We only knew a few people at this house concert. One guy came up to us and said, “Hi, I’m Chris.” Peggi said it reminded her of a church gathering but we managed to sell a few cds.

Amy started the second set with a song where she gives the drummer some but she preceded it with a string of hilarious drummer jokes, most of which I had heard from Brad Fox over the years. And then “Are We Ever Gonna Have Sex Again?” She is lyrical and musical and funny and sweet. A song about her daughter, (You’re Perfect) “Don’t Ever Change,” makes me cry every time I hear it. A singer/songwriter who writes about dancing with Joey Ramone and finishes the night with a Flaming Groovies song. I guess that is why she really gets to me. She has a rock and roll heart.

Most Wednesday nights Steve Piper can be seen drawing in one of the front tables for Margaret Explosion’s Little Theater gig. He may have picked this habit up from his bandmate, Scott Regan, who rarely goes anywhere without a sketchbook. Or he may simply be responding to Frank DeBlase’s City Newspaper review of the band. “Their esoteric wonder paints pictures in my head nonstop.”

Steve’s drawings are expressive and border on abstraction. Scott’s are representational and quite incisive. Frank’s observation is especially fluid and inspiring. Certainly that is what an instrumental, improvisational band tries to do.

Our neighbors, Rick and Monica, have had quite a few house concerts over the years. We’ve been to a few but the singer/songwriter scene is not really our thing. I was playing horseshoes with Rick and he mentioned that there were still some seats left for Saturday’s show with Amy Rigby. She has played Rochester many times with her hubby, Eric, but this one is a solo show. “Still some seats left?” My graphic art instincts took over.

I grabbed a photo of Amy off the web and made a kick-ass poster to get the word out. I fired off a copy to Rick and one to Amy. Not sure if Rick did anything with it but he said he “loved it.” Amy hoped people wouldn’t show up wondering where the woman in the poster was. I am just a fan so I don’t have to be concerned with this nonsense. I’m pretending Saturday’s event is a rock n’ roll show without the racket. Here’s the real Amy.

The title of Philip Glass’s “Hydrogen Jukebox,” came from a verse in Allen Ginsburg’s “Howl.” Glass and Ginsburg picked eighteen of Ginsburg’s poems as the libretto for the 1990 chamber opera and the Eastman Opera Theater performed the piece four times this weekend with two different casts. Ginsburg read his work at the formative performances and Glass is quoted as saying he tried to respect the music that was already in the delivery of the words when he wrote the score for the trained voices. It is remarkable how well the sometimes bombastic verse fits the pulsating music.

With no traditional story the decline of the American empire, war and pacifism served as the theme. The church-like set with sacrificial table, fire pit, flags with corporate logos and roulette wheel centerpiece with stops at all the countries we have declared war on was a comfortable environment for the six actors/singers/dancers. The soft beginning beautiful ending piece eased us in and out of some heady, turbulent times very much like our own.

The empty chairs on our deck await the imminent arrival of Pete and Shelley. Fall has peaked and moved on in the mountains so they will get another crack at it here. Pete LaBonne will be playing the grand piano with Margaret Explosion tonight at the Little Theater Café. We look forward to the chaos that ensues.

My sister, Ann, told us about a box of old photos that she found in my parent’s kitchen cupboard. I borrowed it for a night and scanned some gems like the one above. I’m guessing that’s my brothers Mark, John and Tim gathered around me and we’re probably at Charlotte Beach some time in the 1950s.

Anne Havens stopped by with her fiddle, it’s really a European violin that Colleen Buzzard gave to her, and we played a few songs in our living room. I played my djembe and Peggi played sax and the combination of sax and fiddle sounded to me like an accordion. I really loved the combination. Anne favors major key we go minor. Her repertoire is grounded in a long tradition of American folk but we played with abandon.

When we were finished I took a photo of the set list in her case. Streets of Laredo, Bury Me Not On The Lone Prairie, Wayfaring Stranger, Out Of Bondage, Higher Ground, Down In The Valley, Tennessee Waltz and Faded Love. I can see why some bands skip the the whole creative trip. The book has been written.