Music

It all started with “My Bologna.” And after that, a career that spans four decades, winning the hearts of every adolescent boy in the process.

Indeed, Weird Al Yankovic’s career has been built on the back of juvenile humor, but that doesn’t exactly do the record-producing, film-producing, screenwriting, songwriter and musician justice. Not only has Weird Al been doing this for 40 years, but he’s managed to get the permission of every artist he’s parodied—some of whom even help with with recreating the more unique sounds found in their songs. And he plays a mean squeeze box. I admit it, I’m in it for the polka.

Weird Al’s shows have a stage production quality unlike anything you’ve seen at Red Butte before. There’s wardrobe changes, video screens and, as the name of the tour indicates clearly, Mandatory Fun.

The thing that may be most amazing about his continued success as a touring artist is that in this age of YouTube stars and reality tv, Weird Al isn’t even weird anymore, and he’s certainly not the only one making fun of popular music. But, he’s been doing it longer and he’s done it the best.

Weird Al Yankovic plays Red Butte Garden on Friday, August 5^th. The show is sold-out. Doors are at 6:30, the show starts at 7:30.

I’m hoping for a Donny Osmond guest appearance during White and Nerdy. Cross your fingers.

It seems that concerts are always a “hit or miss” type of deal for me. No matter how much I love the band, it seems their concerts are either bursting with energy, filled with their best songs or they fall flat with little connection and subpar performance levels. Luckily, Florida Georgia Line was the former.

Their Friday night performance at USANA was seen by an overflowing crowd, all of whom seemed to be having a great time (including the woman in front of us who seemed to have just a bit too much fun during the opening acts and drunkenly slept through all of Florida Georgia Line’s performance. Don’t you just love country concerts?)

Kane Brown, The Cadillac Three and Cole Swindell all performed shorter set lists but with three opening acts it seemed to take an obnoxious amount of time to get to the night’s main event. However, all was forgiven once Florida Georgia Line took the stage and started playing all of my favorites.

With an almost perfect blend, Florida Georgia Line scattered the show with old, familiar songs and some of their newer ones, off their upcoming album, Dig Your Roots, which is set to release in August.

Overall, the concert was filled with bounds of energy from both the band and the screaming crowd, making it a fun night for all.

Sunday saw the return to Salt Lake of blues guitarist Gary Clark Jr. in a show that had the Red Butte crowd on their feet from the moment he took the stage

Salt Lake based classic-rock aficionados The Weekenders had kicked things off earlier in the evening with a solid 35-minute set that was well received by the sold out crowd. 

Clark strolled on at 8:10 p.m., looking seriously cool. And as he began proceedings with a blistering version of “Bright Lights” it was clear he meant business. The exciting opener was followed by some impressive finger styling on “Next Door Neighbor Blues,” some rather lovely falsetto vocals on “Our Lady,” and an enjoyable mid tempo minor blues “When My Train Pulls In.” 

Midway through the show, a brief unplanned interlude occurred when Clark’s amplifier “blew up.” The Fender Vibro King amp in question was acquired from Who guitarist Pete Townshend during a European tour. It’s testament to how hard Gary plays that he managed to blow up an amp that once belonged to the loudest man in the history of rock.

The attention to detail with his choice of onstage equipment really helps Clark achieve a gorgeous tone from his rig. Using beautiful guitars such as modern custom shop reissues of 1963 Fender Strat, 1961 Gibson SG, and an Epiphone Casino, Gary is able play his own brand of blues that tips its hat to legends that include BB King, T-Bone Walker, John Lee Hooker, JJ Cale, and Frank Zappa.

But there’s more to Gary Clark Jr than shredding on the guitar and melting down amps. His soft ballads that were carefully positioned throughout the set were reminiscent of Dylan and Neil Young, particularly on the encore number “Church.” Like any good show, his setlist was a roller coaster and took the audience on a musical journey of highs and lows, fast and slow—but always nicely balanced.

At a June Red Butte concert, Buddy Guy spoke his concerns that blues music is dying out. Alongside Joe Bonnamassa and Derek Trucks (who plays Red Butte amphitheater with Susan Tedeschi, Aug. 7), Gary Clark Jr. is one of the most talented blues guitarists under the age of 40 playing today. If Sunday evening was anything to go by, Buddy can rest assured that the blues is alive and well and in very talented hands. At least one more generation will get to enjoy the blues.

“Whiplash.”

That’s how John Paul White described what the audience would get from his The State Room show Sunday night as he went from mellow acoustic to raucously loud in one song. But actually the whiplash started when the opener took the stage.

Magpie was already onstage when I arrived at the venue. One part Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, one part Lumineers, Magpie is something harder to explain than it is to watch. It was undeniable that they were having a great time onstage—the fiddler barely had a bow string left at the end of the show, the drummer twirled his drumsticks like a high school band majorette and banged on his kit like Animal from The Muppets, and the lead singer and guitarist’s instrument was held together by duct tape. But, their enthusiasm for what they were doing on the stage was infectious. They had the small crowd engaged throughout their set—some in appreciation, some in wonderment and for some, like me, a little of both.

And so, it was a shock to the system when John Paul White, whose gig posters say “John Paul White, formerly of The Civil Wars,” took the stage solo and belted out an a cappella “I Remember You” dressed in a suit and tie. He played alone, with just an acoustic guitar for a couple songs before being joined onstage by a small band—a keyboardist, a drummer and a bassist.

“Thanks for coming out on a Sunday,” he told the crowd in a charming southern drawl,“Are y’all in trouble?” It was a seemingly clear jab at Utah’s Mormon culture, but maybe not. After all, White hails from the bible belt and there’s plenty of folks there who take the Lord’s day just as seriously as practicing Mormons.

White played mostly new stuff, from a yet-to-be-released album dropping later this month. “It’s going to be a lot to digest,” he told the crowd as he chugged along. And while all of his songs are sad, lyrically, it was hard to tell when the band joined him, resulting in a loudness that was both unexpected and bordered on unpleasant when following the more mellow stuff on the setlist. The highlight of the set was a cover of Dan Seals’ “Everything That Glitters (Is Not Gold)” during which only White and his keyboardist, who took a turn on seemingly silent xylophone, were on the stage.

In the end, White brings the strength of a wordy songwriter, much like his fellow Alabaman and musical contemporary Jason Isbell, but he has a little growing to do into his new role as a solo act. The unassuming southern gentleman act is charming, but needs a little something. And maybe it was just because I’m so used to The Civil Wars beautiful harmonies, but I wish he’d brought someone, anyone—even a back-up singer—to provide a little more vocal depth to the show. And maybe he could have a little more fun onstage, even with the serious songs. Magpie could probably help with that.

Photos by Natalie Haws

Call it the summer of the 80s in SLC.

Salt Lake audiences, by the end of the summer, will have seen shows by The Cure, Howard Jones and OMD, Blondie, Culture Club, Tears For Fears, Pat Benatar, Joan Jett, Def Leopard, REO Speedwagon, and Heart—and more. And last night, at The Complex, The Church and Psychedelic Furs joined the party, to much less fanfare than the others.

The bands, admittedly, don’t have much more in common than the decade they rose to prominence, but that didn’t stop the crowd—a mix of middle aged folks attempting to recapture their youth and young goths who were born a few decades too late—from showing up in surprisingly large numbers to see them. Creating a crowded, hot and miserable experience on the floor of the larger of the two rooms at The Complex, which is hands-down the worst indoor venue in Salt Lake.

The floors are flat, the room is narrow and the security, which always seems like overkill, took away the pens I had in my purse—along with what was clearly a reporters notebook, despite my protests and all in the name of safety. God knows what a pudgy 36-year old mother of two and music writer could do with a Sharpie if left to her own devices. In any case, if you find this review light on detail, blame security, not me.

The Church opened the set with a fairly short playlist of nine songs, a surprising move since they, unlike the Furs, have released some new music since the Reagan administration. Lead singer Steve Kilbey set the mood for the rest of the band by standing still practically the entire set with a seemingly clear disregard for the audience, who, unlike me, seemed to know the words to plenty of songs that were not “Under The Milky Way,” the bands biggest hit and one hell of a song.

What the Psychedelic Furs lack in catalog they made up for in stage presence. Lead singer Richard Butler’s gravelly voice may have lost some of its power, but the integrity was still there as he bounced around the stage, playing off other band members—the best of which may have been sax player Mars Williams, whose cool-guy sunglasses and sax solos really made the entire show an homage to the 80s that couldn’t have been more obvious if they’d brought out Tom Cruise in his tighty-whiteys and a Save Ferris tee-shirt holding a Care Bear. (Note to band: Hey, guys, that might be a million dollar idea—please credit me if that comes together.)

The highlight of the evening, definitely came at the end of the show, when the Furs were joined on stage for “Pretty In Pink,” during the encore by Ronnie Vannucci of The Killers, a modern band for whom the Furs influence is obvious. And maybe that’s what makes all of these 80s bands still relevant, if it’s true that there’s nothing new under the sun and we’re just making the same music over and over again, last night proved that we could be doing much worse than pulling from these two bands for inspiration.

But last night also served as a reminder that it’s been a while since The Killers have played here. What’s up with that, Ronnie?

This evening (Sunday) sees blues guitarist Gary Clark Jr. pitching up at Red Butte Garden for a sold-out show to support his latest album The Story of Sonny Boy Slim.

Clark certainly has some chops as a blues guitarist, honing his skills in the clubs of Austin with established players like Jimmie Vaughan (brother of Stevie Ray) and showing that he could hold his own at Eric Clapton’s Crossroad guitar festival; no mean feat.

But the smooth-voiced Clark is not your garden variety blues player. Clark has made it clear in his work that he wants to show you, that from hip hop to country—blues music is at the root of any contemporary musical genre you care to mention. Clark has also been active in celebrations of black musical innovation, performing at events such as Essence Fest, the BET Awards and Afropunk Festival.

Clarke has established an excellent reputation for being a terrific live act, and Sunday evening promises to be a compelling show.

Doors at 6 p.m. Show starts at 7, the opening act is self-styled rock-n-roll throwbacks the Weekenders.’

Muscle Shoals has always been a hotbed for music—thanks to FAME Records and Muscle Shoals Sound Studio, both of which attracted artists like The Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, The Staples Singers, Otis Redding and Paul Simon, who traveled to Alabama just to get a little of that “Muscle Shoals Sound.”

But save for local studio musicians who helped create that trademark sound, and favorite son Sam Phillips, who went on to create the famed Sun Records in Memphis and subsequently effectively creating Elvis Presley and Jerry Lee Lewis, Muscle Shoals wasn’t producing a lot of home-grown talent.

That is no longer the case.

In recent years there has been a steady stream of talent coming out of the area. Drive-By Truckers, Jason Isbell, Anderson East, Secret Sisters and the now defunct The Civil Wars. And though The Civil Wars are no more, half of the duo, John Paul White, will hit The State Room on Sunday night.

A little background: Born in Muscle Shoals, but raised in Loretto, Tennessee, White already had a solo career when he teamed up with Joy Williams at a song writing workshop in Nashville in 2010. The pair won a few Grammys, but split in 2014. In 2015, White paired up to record the song “Kyrie” with Emmylou Harris and has a new album, Beulah, slated to come out in mid-August.

Beulah was recorded at FAME Records, and in the single that has been released there is still a hint of The Civil Wars Southern-folk but the overall feel is grittier and bluesier. In other words—it’s pure Muscle Shoals.

John Paul White plays the State Room on Sunday July 31 at 9 p.m.. Tickets are still available.

I have seen The Avett Brothers, at my best recollection, six or seven times. I have seen them play at a small venue in Park City, I saw them play a not-sold-out rainy show at Gallivan Center, and I have seen them more than once at Red Butte. Last night was my least favorite of all of those shows, for reasons I can’t quite put my finger on.

I don’t know. Maybe it was the setlist. Maybe it was me. But they seemed less chatty than usual and, even in the front row, I didn’t feel the connection that the band usually shares with their audience—the connection I wanted my 12 year-old-son Charlie, an Avetts super fan, to feel live and in person.

Bursting onto the stage with “Die, Die, Die” the always-energetic band blew through a setlist full of favorites—songs like “Shame,” “D-Bag Rag” (with kazoos, obviously), “Go To Sleep,”  “February Seven,” “Murder in the City,” and “Talk on Insolence” were interspersed between songs from their new album True Sadness, like the bass-heavy “Ain’t No Man” and a tale of divorce—and yodeling— in “Divorce Separation Blues.”

Let me be clear: a bad night for The Avett Brothers is still a really good night for music.

These boys (and one girl) really bring it. Brothers Scott and Seth Avett (banjo and guitar, respectively) harmonize like angels and took turns taking the lead all night—who says brothers can’t share?

A large part of The Avett’s success has been their band, which has grown in size in the years I’ve seen them tour. Cellist Joe Kwon—who is more metal as any cellist on the planet—drummer Mike Marsh, Bob Crawford on bass, pianist Paul Defiglia and violinist Tania Elizabeth create the trademark Avett sound—and do so in spite of not even receiving an introduction to the audience by their band’s namesakes. None of them leave anything on the stage. It’s remarkable that they’re able to play with that kinetic energy night after night, really.

It was during the encore that the band really hit their stride, though. Starting out with the poppy and peppy “Kick Drum Heart” bringing brother Seth into the crowd, with members of the audience holding up his guitar cables. Then it was on to a raucous version of Willie Nelson’s “Stay All Night” and they closed the set with “No Hard Feelings.”

Indeed. No hard feelings. I’ll see you next time, Avetts.

Dolly Parton’s performance Tuesday night at the UCCU Center showed that the 70-year-old star can still put on a show.  Dolly apologized for a slight cough and a case of the sniffles – not that it affected her singing performance at all.

“Me with a chest cold is like a giraffe with a sore throat,” Parton said. She kept those jokes coming all night.

The “backwoods Barbie” commanded the stage in a dress dripping with rhinestones. Parton busted out “Jolene,” and then treated the audience to new songs from her latest album Pure & Simple, an album she said was entirely of love songs.

Miss Parton is a beautiful storyteller. She told of growing up in a poor family of 12 children with parents who taught her the value of hard work, humility and acceptance.

“Everybody should be proud of where they’re from and who they are,” Parton said. “We had all the kind of stuff that money doesn’t buy: love, compassion and kindness.”

When Dolly sang “Coat of Many Colors,” the love she has for her mother and her upbringing was right there on stage. She expertly played the steel guitar for “Tennessee Mountain Home” as she told of the homesickness she experienced as a young performer.

“I graduated from high school on a Friday night, and on Saturday morning I hopped on a Greyhound to go find stardom,” Parton said.

The show’s atmosphere was very personal as Parton continued to tell stories and make the audience laugh. I’m firmly convinced that Dolly Parton can play any instrument she touches; she played an acoustic guitar, an electric guitar, a steel guitar, a fiddle, a banjo, a saxophone and a baby grand piano. In true Dolly fashion, every instrument is decorated with plenty of sparkles.

Parton got the crowd going when she brought up insanity of the current presidential election.

“I was thinking I might run,” Parton said to an explosion of cheers. “I’ve got the hair for it! I’m a self-made woman, and I’ve got the doctor’s bills to prove it!”

Dolly then showcased her southern gospel roots with renditions of “The Seeker” and “Precious Memories.”

After a short intermission – with an expected hair and outfit change — Parton used her strong and soulful voice to sing a few measures of Alicia Keys’ “Girl on Fire.” Dolly can sing whatever she wants as loud as she wants, and we would never want her to stop. Parton performed a few songs from the Trio albums, originally recorded alongside Emmylou Harris and Linda Ronstadt. The party really got started when Dolly sang “Here You Come Again,” “Two Doors Down,” “Islands in the Stream,” and a dance-worthy version of “9 to 5.”

Parton closed the night with “I Will Always Love You,” and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t eek out an itty bitty tear.