Ringing endorsements

First: In the event that Ann Coulter is still on your mind -- and she shouldn't be -- there's this bit of amusement. Normally Godwin's Law wears me out, but I enjoyed this one.

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El Lefty Malo has already posted his recap of our experience Tuesday evening at the Costello/Toussaint show, but I'll endeavor to add something new. Like Lefty, I found the evening almost entirely enjoyable and often thrilling, despite a few obvious musical flaws.

Toussaint was near-perfect, emerging midsong early in the evening. If anything, we needed to hear more piano in the mix. His flourishes are sometimes too subtle for a rhythm section like the Imposters'; Pete Thomas in particular seemed to play for a four-piece band instead of a ten-piece aggregation. Having spent time with the lively Get Happy, I can't say Thomas doesn't "get" funky soul music, but he could certainly stand to scale back his attack on some of the groovier material. It seemed like he couldn't quite shake the new-wave-ish boom-tap drumming he's been doing all his life; he did, however, get the marching-snare thing right on "Deep Dark Truthful Mirror."

Some things were perfect, like the ballads "Poisoned Rose" and "Freedom for the Stallion": the piano was right out front, the vocals were powerful, and the rhythm section was held in check. Toussaint's horn charts added rhythmic contrast and tonal color, while the horn players themselves provided visual humor and stayed loose at stage left.

Oddly, Costello's vocal weariness shone through not on the ballads, but on the rockers. He seemed fine at first -- opening with "What's So Funny 'Bout Peace, Love & Understanding" -- but eventually he seemed to wear out over the course of the three-hour show. Maybe it was all the sing-a-longs. I don't know about you, but I don't feel comfortable being goosed to sing along with a performer eighty yards away, waving his arms and conducting the audience. I don't like clapping along at the performer's behest either. And you know what else? Most people have such abysmal rhythmic sense that their clapping just screws everyone else up. And those that clap the loudest seem to be those with the least sense of rhythm. I mean, I've heard better performances at Oakland A's games. I don't mean to get all musician-snob on you there, but really... make it stop.

Costello's little speeches, mostly pertaining to post-Katrina government SNAFUs, went over well in friendly Oakland, though there may have been one too many cracks for my taste. (Wonder how much more we heard than other audiences did.) His grandstanding has gotten to be a bit much; he wasn't like that last time I saw him, following Toussaint at JazzFest in New Orleans last year. I bet his guitar tech hates him too.

The worst part of the show was the noisiest -- the section after Toussaint left the stage during the main set. "Dust 2" was almost all kick drum, and the high ends of Costello's guitar and the Hammond. (There was way too much kick all night, at least to my ears upstairs. It's not what I paid to see.) And the best part was the quietest: Toussaint's inner voice emerging on a brief encore solo section where he ran through a personal, musical, and regional history, incorporating Professor Longhair's "Big Chief" and both the major and minor-key "Tipitina," along with a short eulogy for Fess and several halfway-to-Debussy transitions, all in three minutes. Then E.C. returned for "Ascension Day," and they finished the party a little while later with chestnuts like Lee Dorsey's "Yes We Can Can" and Benny Spellman's "Fortune Teller," two of Toussaint's early hits.

Last, a note on the Paramount. I'd hang out there when the place was empty. Wow. And Pho 84 too.


FMFM: Hank Mobley's Roll Call, featuring Art Blakey's aggressive swing and young Freddie Hubbard's dazzling runs at high altitude.