Bad Cop: Welcome to another episode. This one really is an episode.
Good Cop: And it’s all your fault.
Bad Cop: Being the B team at this blog has its rewards. We get to see a lot of good shows…
Good Cop: We get to see the best shows. What’s been happening lately is that we’ve taken on the job of covering concerts by artists who’ve gotten press here before. Considering that they’ve been designated for coverage on multiple occasions means that they’re got to be pretty good. Psychedelic Americana songwriter Jenifer Jackson is one of those artists, and she has a show coming up at the small room at the Rockwood at 8 PM on July 21. It’s a good lineup, with jazz singer Joanna Wallfisch at 9 and then noir guitar legend Jim Campilongo and his trio doing their weekly show at 10.
Bad Cop: Are we going?
Good Cop: I hope so. We saw her show at the other space here on Allen Street back in March and it was amazing, one of the best ones I’ve seen this year.
Bad Cop: I’ll second that.
Good Cop: And this doofus [motions toward Bad Cop] lost the recording. Which means that in order to explain what she sounds like onstage, we basically have to reconstruct what happened several months ago, and to be honest, I can’t remember a lot of it. If I’m correct, this was the show where Jenifer announced that she had a new name for her band: the Denim Bridge. As she explained it, that phrase popped up randomly in conversation, one of those “wow, great band name” moments, and she grabbed it. And I think it makes sense: this is an Americana band, a lot of Jenifer’s songs are about people connecting – or not connecting – and there’s another level of connectivity here, between this group, which is based in Austin, and the core of musicians who made up her New York band who usually join her when she comes back to town.
Bad Cop: I don’t like the name. Too dadrock. The ninth album by Piscataway Watershed: Denim Bridge!
Good Cop: You’re not supposed to like it. But you did like this show, which is unusual because you’re such a grump. And now you’ve made me a grump because I’m grasping at straws to remember what happened. As I remember, it was a really cold night, but there were a lot of people there. I don’t want to drop names, but there were at least a half a dozen of the best rock songwriters in town in the room.
Bad Cop: Like who?
Good Cop: I’m not going to say. I don’t want to come across as a starfucker. Let’s just say that Jenifer Jackson is revered by her peers. A songwriter’s songwriter, you could say.
Bad Cop: What I remember is having to hit the bathroom beforehand, and there being a grand total of one bathroom for two rooms here – and having to compete with women for it.
Good Cop [speechless- shakes her head slowly, back and forth]
Bad Cop: That and Kullen Fuchs. He’s the lead guy in the band, basically. He was playing vibraphone. When’s the last time you saw a country band with a vibraphone? And he was fast and furious and amazing. And then he’d switch to accordion, and then trumpet. Sometimes in the same song.
Good Cop: Matt Kanelos played piano. I had no idea that he was so good at honkytonk. He channeled Floyd Cramer.
Bad Cop: Do you think that people in general have any idea of who Floyd Cramer was?
Good Cop: Country people all know. At least people who like classic country music. Which is one side of this band: they did a couple of honkytonk-flavored numbers, but the vibraphone gave them a fresh, new sound.
Bad Cop: You wouldn’t expect it to work but it did. Most of the songs, as I remember, were from the new album, TX Sunrise. My favorite was White Medicine Cloud, which is one of those hypnotic, quiet numbers that Jenifer writes so well. This one’s kind of epic, at least the way they played it. And it’s got an antiwar, why-can’t-we-all-just-get-along message that actually isn’t mawkish or trite. It was rather touching, actually.
Good Cop: One of my favorites was Your Sad Teardrops. A honkytonk kiss-off anthem with some really cool slip-key piano.
Bad Cop: Another really good one was All Around. Big, sweeping, angst-fueled anthem. An uneasy, windswept seaside tableau. Blog Boss said that this one sounded like Steve Wynn, which I think is right on the money. And if memory serves, this was the show where Jenifer broke out a bunch of the southwestern gothic stuff: On My Mind, and Picture of May, an awesome, creepy bolero.
Good Cop: Speaking of creepy boleros, she encored with Mercury the Sun and Moon, that minor-key psychedelic noir Vegas song from her first album that was such a big hit with her fans.
Bad Cop: I have a recording of that song from the show.
Good Cop: If that’s all you’ve got, let’s hear it! [Bad Cop hits the play button]. Well, that’s a vibraphone, but this isn’t Jenifer Jackson.
Bad Cop: You’re right, that’s Tuatara [hits fast-forward]. OK, here it is…
Good Cop: You cut off the beginning.
Bad Cop: Guess so. Too bad I lost everything else. This would have been a great show to listen back to.
Good Cop: Any shortcomings on our part you can blame on HIM [smacks Bad Cop in the stomach; Bad Cop doubles over in pain]. Hmmm…piano and vibes. Glittery gorgeousness. And all those scampering drum fills: do you remember who the drummer was?
Bad Cop [gulping]: Greg Wieczorek. Guy’s a genius.
Good Cop: I should have figured that out for myself. He has a very distinctive style. Omigod, the way Jenifer’s voice just went up with a harmony on the chorus, against the melody line – and then she does it again, That’s what I love about this band: they never play anything the same way twice.
Bad Cop: That’s the jazz thing. Jenifer’s dad is a famous jazz disc jockey, at least to the extent that a jazz dj can be famous.
Good Cop: They did an album together. And it’s really good.
Bad Cop: So are we going to this show on Monday?
Good Cop: I’m gonna bug the boss about it!