I really enjoy Bella Donna's agreeable blend of personalities and musical forces. The first set Saturday evening at Patton Alley Pub showed the band working as a BAND —
- Mike Williamson's steadying influence on bass and in person.
- Matt Guinn's jaunty early-jazz rhythms on guitar.
- Drummer B.J. Lowrance's ability to hold back and work within the dynamics of the group. His restraint becomes apparent between tunes, when he idly taps the tom or snare and generates a surprising blast that's louder than anything he's played, yet really not all that loud. One of these nights he'll truly cut loose and leave the place a shambles.
- Liz Carney's quirky vocal delays, darts and slants.
One of the highlights was "Do You Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans," with an elegant solo by Williamson switching to cornet(?) and using a Harmon mute. The melancholy feel of the tune really came through the mute.
"How Could You," a tune I heard countless times when I visited one of the band's recording sessions, seems to have evolved yet again since then.
With Guinn's Django-like rhythmic drive, the band steered "Autumn Leaves" and "Summertime" toward early-jazz swing. Interesting how old-timey forms continue to reach new ears, but accompanied by different attitudes. Fifteen years ago, amid the craze for all things retro, acts like Big Bad Voodoo Daddy and the Squirrel Nut Zippers created caricatures of these styles. Nowadays, Bella Donna and others use the same music simply as worthwhile source material to integrate into a group sound.
Sadly, all this music was lost on many members of the audience. Shrieks, shouts and loud conversation competed with the band. I know I'm out of step here, but the distractions seemed uncalled for given the quality of the music — especially because there was another part of the pub where enjoyably noisy conversation could take place. I think this response illustrates the growing popular impulse to treat music as a commodity — similar to muted lighting, heating or air conditioning and beer as necessary elements of a night out. Or, on a personal level, the layering of music into other realms of experience (running, reading, working, killing time) through iPods and such, in which songs are automated into similar themes suitable for various activities and not recognized as distinctive works of art. I'm just suggesting that the art aspect needs more attention.
"How Could You," a tune I heard countless times when I visited one of the band's recording sessions, seems to have evolved yet again since then.
With Guinn's Django-like rhythmic drive, the band steered "Autumn Leaves" and "Summertime" toward early-jazz swing. Interesting how old-timey forms continue to reach new ears, but accompanied by different attitudes. Fifteen years ago, amid the craze for all things retro, acts like Big Bad Voodoo Daddy and the Squirrel Nut Zippers created caricatures of these styles. Nowadays, Bella Donna and others use the same music simply as worthwhile source material to integrate into a group sound.
Sadly, all this music was lost on many members of the audience. Shrieks, shouts and loud conversation competed with the band. I know I'm out of step here, but the distractions seemed uncalled for given the quality of the music — especially because there was another part of the pub where enjoyably noisy conversation could take place. I think this response illustrates the growing popular impulse to treat music as a commodity — similar to muted lighting, heating or air conditioning and beer as necessary elements of a night out. Or, on a personal level, the layering of music into other realms of experience (running, reading, working, killing time) through iPods and such, in which songs are automated into similar themes suitable for various activities and not recognized as distinctive works of art. I'm just suggesting that the art aspect needs more attention.
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