CONCERT REVIEW
Lyle Lovett on Wry
by Seth Rogovoy(LENOX, Mass., July 5, 1997) -- There's a line in one of the songs Lyle Lovett performed on Friday night at Tanglewood that pretty much sums up his entire sensibility. "I drank myself some whiskey, and I dreamed I was a cowboy," sang Lovett, in his typically wry, deadpan way, with just a hint of ache or strain.
The line, like so many of his others, raised more questions than it answered. Was Lovett singing as Lyle Lovett, or was he assuming the voice of a fictional character? My guess is the latter. In that case, was the narrator of the song to be taken at face value, or does the author -- Lyle Lovett -- intend for the audience to doubt the reliability of the narrator? Again, I side with the doubters, as I suspect does Lovett, whose songs are filled with weary, angst-ridden characters, none of whom we are supposed to take too seriously.
Multiple layers of irony aside -- and they include Lovett's impossibly bemusing appearance and his preposterous Hollywood romance with actress Julia Roberts -- Lovett and his band -- no, wait, make that "Lyle Lovett and His Band," as the show was archly billed -- took the Fourth of July audience on a stylish, two-hour-plus ride through the singer-songwriter's haunting repertoire of songs about losers, misfits and self-deluded dreamers.
Lovett sets these tales of woe into genres of Americana including western swing, cowboy ballads, country two-steps, gospel and blues, styles that connote just about anything but irony. In his hands, however, even the most straightforward convention becomes one to be subtly tweaked for maximum distancing effect.
Thus, take the tradition of the country tearjerker, with a chorus that would go something like, "She's leaving me, because she...." and fill in the blank. Because she has a cold, cold heart? Because she's had enough of my drinkin' and gamblin'? No, in Lovett's hands, he digs to the psychological truth behind all those country cliches -- irony, in this case, revealing a deeper essence -- resulting in, "She's Leaving Me Because She Really Wants To." Of course.
Lovett, who accompanied himself nimbly on acoustic guitar, was backed by an eight-piece band, not quite his "Large Band," just "His Band," which included unbilled superstars of progressive bluegrass mandolinist Sam Bush and dobro player Jerry Douglas. In combination with the band's usual array of acoustic bass and fiddle, supplanted by a drummer, a percussionist and an electric guitarist, this made for a mini-orchestra, put to great use on songs like "I've Been to Memphis," "She's Already Made Up Her Mind," and a dramatic, mournful rendition of the Grateful Dead's "Friend of the Devil."
Other highlights of the show included a jaunt into Motown-like R&B territory with "You Can't Resist," featuring a psychedelic, dissonant cello solo by John Hagen, which would have been comfortably at home at Tanglewood's Contemporary Music Festival. Perfectly crafted ditties like "If I Had a Boat" and "This Old Porch" also got across to the audience with a degree of clarity and directness that some of Lovett's more ambitious material lacked.
Bush and Douglas were occasionally given the chance to show off their virtuoso chops, providing much-needed flair and variety to a show that at times threatened to wallow in its own self-pity. Even for fans, two-plus hours of Lovett's grin-and-bear-it, wink-wink-say-no- more brand of Americana can quickly grow tired and stale.
[This review originally appeared in the Berkshire Eagle on July 6, 1997. Copyright Seth Rogovoy 1997. All rights reserved.]
Seth Rogovoy
rogovoy@berkshire.net
music news, interviews, reviews, et al.
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