CONCERT REVIEW
Odetta charms and mystifies at the Clark
by Seth Rogovoy(WILLIAMSTOWN, Mass., March 30, 1997) -- In an unusual performance including sing-alongs, spirituality and psychodrama, folksinger Odetta brought the Clark Art Institute's "Four Fridays of Folk" series to a close on Friday night. Bedecked in a bright-orange knit caftan with a bejeweled forehead and a bright pants suit, Odetta was a magnetic if somewhat unsteady, mystifying presence who approached her set more as an opportunity for free-association than as a traditional concert.
This free-wheeling method had its charm, as it gave the evening the illusion of spontaneity -- of an old friend returning to share some favorite songs and perhaps a few new ones.
But the free-association was not always of the musical kind. The singer interspersed stories and speeches between -- and sometimes, within -- her songs, and not always to clear effect. If it was her intention to lend a Brechtian quality to the proceedings -- alienation effect and all that, jarring her listeners out of the self-satisfied comfort provided by such an occasion -- she may have partially succeeded. But such techniques are usually engaged in the service of an overarching structure, which Odetta's program lacked. Rather than a one-woman show in search of a unifying vision, it teetered perilously close to the edge of a crack-up, with the singer running behind the curtains to compose herself, aimlessly strumming her guitar for what seemed like minutes on end and to no apparent purpose, or just closing her eyes as if waiting for Scotty or someone from behind Hale-Bopp to beam her up.
Then, of course, there was some folk music. As always, Odetta opened her show with "Kumbaya," introducing her colorful vocals that crackled with wit, energy and warmth. She noted that the personal subtext of the cowboy song, "I'm a Rambler, I'm a Gambler," was for her the hidden fact that cowboys were black slaves, but her impassioned rendition of the song was marred by her irascible outbursts at the sound engineer and, in light of the song's theme of independence and nonchalance, her remarkably vicious comment, "Oh, God, this is a hateful country."
The second half of her set was filled by what she called a "song suite," which abruptly juxtaposed songs of longing and displacement, and which featured some moments of emotional and spiritual transcendence. These, however, were undone as much by the fact that her guitar was not miked internally or externally as they were by her sudden changes of course.
In spite of this, Odetta connected with the sold-out crowd in the auditorium. It was perhaps telling in more ways than one that the most stirring moment of the concert came during the encore, when the singer got the crowd singing along like a well-rehearsed choir to "Amazing Grace" in spontaneous, three-part harmony. Odetta left the stage while the audience continued the song, making for a strikingly resonant tableau that spoke volumes regarding the power of music to unite.
Delta bluesman David "Honeyboy" Edwards warmed up the crowd for Odetta. Whereas the headliner drew on her substantial theatrical powers to get her message across, Edwards was utterly without pretense. Seemingly straight out of the Mississippi delta save for his plugged-in guitar, he played a set of gloriously raunchy, discordant blues, the way they were meant to be before they were cleaned up by the record industry in order to be marketed to the masses as pop music. Edwards' vocals were impossibly dusky and gritty, and his music was harsh and angular, which, if you think about what the blues is all about, makes a lot more sense than the pop music passed off on the unwitting listener as "blues."
The Clark is to be commended for its program that gave the lie to many myths regarding the audience for live music in the Berkshires. The museum was able to attract capacity crowds of over 300 to four folk concerts on Friday nights in winter. None of the performers were marquee names or pop stars. Instead, all boasted pedigrees of impeccable musical integrity. As such, the Clark suggested it is more than just a custodian of fine art. The institute can add to its resume the part-time stewardship of the American musical tradition. Here's hoping the Clark's success is contagious. [This review originally appeared in the Berkshire Eagle on March 31, 1997. Copyright Seth Rogovoy 1997. All rights reserved.]
Seth Rogovoy
rogovoy@berkshire.net
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