Yesterday I got to experience two firsts and a wonderful... twentieth? eighteenth? (I'm not really sure actually...) It was my first time at the Black Sheep Inn in Wakefield, my first time seeing (or even ever hearing of) Lake of Stew and my many many many-th time seeing the incomparable Old Man Luedecke.
So The Black Sheep Inn. I've heard tell of its awesomeness via our loverly CBC radio, but had yet to experience it for myself. Now I've been to a lot of new (to me) venues over the past year, from the good (La Sala Rosa, Irene's) to the okay (the Bronson Centre), the awesome (Raw Sugar), and the pretty awful (I'm sorry Maverick's but your sound quality is just bad!), and the Black Sheep Inn is pretty tops. Sitting down without feeling stuffy (comfy chairs, good sized tables and standing room in back), good food and beer (mmmmm burgers...), not too loud (you can talk without shouting or feeling like you're interrupting the show), good sound (small enough to hear it mostly from the stage, but a good system too), and a great crowd (whom you get the feeling have been putting a shine on the bar for years..) this place is a great location to see live music. (Elliott Brood there in January- can't wait!)
So last night we started off with Lake of Stew- and a better starter could not have been had! One of those five-seconds-in-you-already-know-you-love-them kind of bands- at least for me, the rest of my table, and most of the audience, judging by the explosive applause (and the first time I have ever seen an opener do an encore!). Bluegrass to the absolute core, this Montreal-based ensemble boasts a wash-tub bass, harmonica, mandolin, banjo (of course), guitar, accordion, kazoo and washboard-percussion-section (you'd think maybe I have a bit of a thing for bands with weird instruments... did someone say Graveyard Train?). With oddly old-timey voices to match their oddly old-timey instruments, these guys really know how to rock out hillbilly style (which, believe it or not I mean as a compliment!). They are so down-home its almost hard to believe they hail from such a big city. Part of that is the feeling that you're just hangin' out in someone's [very big] living room, listening to a bunch of friends improv songs about food, love, and guys who almost were sorta kinda good at track back in high school. I swear they could get an adamant country-music-hater slapping their knee after a song or two- something I will remember in future should I encounter such a person...
Lake of Stew also just recently recorded an EP with Old Man Luedecke so he joined them for three or four songs at the end (including the aforementioned encore). It was nice to see two bands playing together and feeding off of one anothers' groove (almost like a workshop sessions at the hillside festival)- I wish more bands would do that...
Which brings us to Chris Luedecke- I've actually been seeing him perform for years (almost six years I think?) but he never ceases to impress me. His banjo playing is always astounding, but its his storytelling skillz that bring everything together. Whether its through the lyrics or the best between-song banter you'll ever experience (especially impressive as he is up there all alone...) you'll soon find yourself smiling your face off. Watching him perform is particularly odd for me as I often get flashbacks (I tried to think of a different word to use there cuz that makes me sound like I'm in some sort of horrible superhero tv show, but alas it is the only one which seems to appropriately describe them...) to the first time I heard him play whichever song he is about to perform. I was there for so many of the "This is the first time I've played this at a show" times that it feels like I've been watching his journey as an artist... I know that sounds super sappy, and I am a little embarrassed at having written it, but Chris is just so adorable (and amazingly talented and friendly etc etc etc) that its difficult to not get a little soppy when talking about him.
There's just something about the simplicity and the, lets face it, friendliness, of bluegrass that really gets to you, especially when you consider its actual complexity, and sometimes deceptively serious subject matter. If you're one of those people who finds themselves sitting on the 'I Hate Country/I Tap My Foot to Johnny Cash' fence, check out Lake of Stew or Old Man Luedecke in concert and I all but guarantee you'll find yourself in a field of 'I Love Bluegrass'
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