Warming up a crowd is not an easy undertaking. I sympathize with bands that are charged with that task. I don't typically enjoy opening acts so I usually arrive late. I figure it's better to do that than to cast a pall on the proceedings with my indifference.
I'm happy to say that this was not the case with The Henry Clay People, the opening act for the Drive-By Truckers. Can we talk about their guitar tones? Superb. Just the right amount of electrical menace.
The Henry Clay People really captured the raw energy of early Neil Young. That was a time when Young was searing the strings of Old Black, his beloved Les Paul, with a frenetic and impressionistic guitar style on such masterworks as "Down By The River" and "Cowgirl In The Sand."
The Henry Clay People closed their set with an incendiary cover of "Born To Run." I've always been fond of that song because Springsteen sings it with so much emotion that every little thing feels like the end of the world.
Most impressively, the lead guitarist for The Henry Clay People did a near-perfect rendition of Clarence Clemon's sax solo.
I'd tried to see the Drive-By Truckers back in July when they opened for Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers at the Verizon Wireless Music Center. Talk about an anti-septic name for a music venue. I should have known what I was in for from the name alone. That name seems to say, "This is a generic name created by a pack of corporate lackeys who will do their best to curb your fun and separate your money from your wallet."
I arrived a few minutes after the Truckers' set started but was not admitted due to a policy barring customers from taking their seats while a performer was on stage.
I was feeling a bit irate at the time, but became apoplectic days later when I learned that Patterson Hood's father, David Hood, had joined the band for a cover of The Staple Singers' "Respect Yourself." David Hood had played bass on the original recording, so I was understandably upset over missing that due to the machinations of a faceless corporation.
Swearing vengeance on Verizon like a crazed sea captain maimed by a particularly choleric cetacean, I decided to see the Truckers at The Vogue. It was probably better, in retrospect, to see the band perform to an audience that was enthusiastic about the music, rather than one desperately awaiting the chance to drunkenly shout the line about Indiana in "Last Dance With Mary Jane."
The Truckers played a great set in front of a backdrop that resembled a Dr. Seuss illustration filtered through the aesthetic sensibilities of Ralph Steadman. The convivial atmosphere must have had a positive effect on the band, you'd never expect to see Patterson Hood sing "Hell No, I Ain't Happy" with such a big grin on his face.
The Truckers also closed their set with a cover, but instead of "State Trooper" like I hoped for, it was "Ain't Talkin' 'Bout Love" by Van Halen. I left the Vogue that night feeling I had been fairly compensated for the injustice done to me in July. I'd had my vengeance without having to chase a white whale halfway across the globe.
-Andrew Crowley
