Black Francis @ Le Poisson Rouge – July 24th, 2011
Photos: Dana (distortion) Yavin / Review: Colin Fitzgerald
My first assignment for this super cool blog was to cover the incomparable newly re-christened Black Francis (aka Charles Thompson, aka Frank Black), at Le Poisson Rouge in Manhattan. (To avoid confusion I will refer to him as Chuck T. for the remainder of the review) The night turned out to be nothing like I expected. I, being a fan of Chuck T's solo career in its entirety, had no trouble picturing the set he would play. I knew he wrote "Another Velvet Nightmare" with the show’s opener, Reid Paley, and I figured most of the material would fall into the category of country-western Frank Black that was prevalent in the late ‘90s and early ‘00s. That expectation was definitely shattered but I’ll get to that later.
LPR was laid out like the kind of place Tony Clifton would be right at home at. Dim lighting, tables with candles, and wine delivered to makeshift booths in ice buckets. It was surreal. No sooner did I picture Andy Kaufman's lounge-singing alter ego did Reid Paley take the stage, reinforcing the parallel with his gruff, conversational demeanor and his acerbic wit. After a long and deadly silent pause between him getting on stage and finally acknowledging the crowd, Reid broke the ice in grand fashion. "Thank you and good night!" he shouted into the mic, and pretty much all the sanctity that was established in the cocktail-party atmosphere of LPR was shattered in an instant.
Reid Paley was the consummate bar-room troubadour, equal parts Tom Waits, Elvis Costello, and Johnny Lee Hooker. That’s not to say he was derivative. In all the sing-along-ready, blues-punk-drunken tunes he cranked out, nothing felt anything less than honest. He strummed nasty guitar and sang hangover-inspired lyrics with abandon, or so he would have you believe. His style of 'make it seem easy, seat of the pants performing was deceptively easy-going. He knows how to play and sing like anybody, but he also knows how to put you at ease with the artist. He often paused mid-song to elevate the crowd’s awareness of him just long enough to gaze into the crowd with a smirk before launching back into the song. He was raw, unpolished, honest, and absolutely soulful. He commanded the dinner party crowd with his somewhat familiar and personable style. Just another down on his luck everyman, who just happens to be able to draw the listener in totally, leaving them no choice but to live the debaucherous stories with him.
