Rhett Miller At The Troubadour

Sometimes I take big risks when it comes to urging others to go to concerts, especially ones at small venues featuring somewhat obscure artists.  This was the case Saturday night, as I dragged Pam, on her birthday weekend no less, to the Troubadour to see Rhett Miller, the lead singer of the Old 97s, play a solo acoustic show.

Pam and I have seen Rhett Miller perform before, just not as a solo act.  The Old 97s played at the El Rey a couple of years ago, and I convinced John, Kris and Pam we should see them, as I liked their music but had never seen them live.  It did not turn out well.  In fact, John and Kris left after three songs.  Pam wanted to go with them.  I was more into it, so I made her stay two more songs.  Then she and I left.  The Old 97s have been together since 1993, and their music is best described as alt-country, which encompasses roots rock, bluegrass, rockabilly, honky-tonk, outlaw country, folk, and punk rock.  The night we saw them it seemed like they had forsaken every genre but punk, pure, loud punk.  Screaming loud punk.  Jumping around the stage punk.  Any notes that were sung on key were purely accidental, or so that is how we felt.  John, Kris and Pam have given me a much deserved ration of shit about them ever since.

That show, though,  did not change my view of the Old 97s.  I still listen to them, a lot.  I like their music, maybe not all the songs, but many of them.  They have a unique style and sound that resonates with me.  To be fair, they are somewhat of an acquired taste.  Maybe I should have made John, Kris and Pam listen to more of their music before the show.  Or maybe that wouldn’t have mattered.  Either way, there was no way John, Kris or Pam would acquire a taste for the Old 97s after the show.

A couple of weeks ago, I saw that Rhett Miller was playing an acoustic show.  Being somewhat foolhardy and still hoping I could get Pam on the Old 97s bandwagon, I asked her if she wanted to go.  At the time I am pretty sure I said the lead singer of the Old 97s was playing a solo show.  Then I told her, in error, it was at the Orpheum in downtown Los Angeles.  She said, “Not interested.”  The next day I told her that I was wrong and that the show was at the Troubadour.  She was okay with that.  At least she was okay with the venue.  We bought tickets and then waited.

As the show neared, I got nervous.  There was some chance, maybe more than some chance, that Pam had no idea that we were seeing the lead singer of the Old 97s.    I had also convinced myself that the show was on her birthday, which really ratcheted up my fears.    As such, I felt compelled to let her know again exactly who Rhett Miller was.  Of course, she cried out, “You never told me that is who we are seeing!”  Needless to say, she started grumbling.  The good news was that the show was not on her birthday.  I had gotten that wrong.  Not the date of her birthday, which I always remember, just the day of the week on which her birthday fell.  I felt better after that.  As I have mentioned before, Pam is a saint.  So even after I said we could just skip the show and do something else, she said, “No.  Let’s go.”

We planned our evening to include dinner at Amici, which is diagonally across the street from the Troubadour.  As there was some chance we would not stay for the entire show, we decided to just walk in a little after the doors opened and stand during the show instead of waiting in line before the doors opened to get a seat upstairs.  So we had a leisurely dinner and then walked over to the Troubadour.  Apparently, Rhett Miller does not have a huge following in West LA because the first floor was pretty empty and there were actually a few seats remaining upstairs.

The opening act, Kate Micucci, was okay.  She was more of a comic than a singer.  She has written a slew of funny songs with quirky lyrics.  She sung them in a sweet, little girl like voice.  And, for a while, they were fun.  She also had a few of her friends assisting her with some pure comedy shtick.  In total she had about 20 minutes of funny songs and comedy bits.  It was unfortunate that she crammed those 20 minutes into a 45 minute set, resulting in me wanting her to leave the stage well before she actually did.

Rhett Miller played for about an hour and a half and did a great job.  His set contained a mixture of his solo material and Old 97s songs.  Most of the songs were about failed attempts to get together with the opposite sex or about drinking too much.  His lyrics are dark, but upbeat in a bizarre sort of way, making me want to keep listening for more, convincing myself that a positive lyric is just a few chords away, sort of like eating an almost good dessert and waiting for the taste to kick in.

When he chooses to use it, he has a great bluesy, Americana voice that sounds really good live.  At some point in many songs he would wind up his arm, strum the shit out of his guitar, and just let loose with some primal sounds, making for nice a contrast in styles.  He was really comfortable on stage, with the ability to tell engaging, funny stories in between songs.  I had a great time.

During the show, I snuck a few looks over at Pam.  I am pretty sure she knew I was looking, but she just ignored me.  From my vantage point she looked like she was enjoying it.  After the show was over, Pam admitted he was much better than she expected.  She also admitted that she would see him perform live again, just not with the rest of his band.  Maybe if I stock her iPod with lots of Old 97s songs, she might change her mind.