By Mary E. Mueller

The Savannah Music Festival ended with a “funky good time” on Sunday with legendary saxophonist Maceo Parker and his Funky Dance Party at the Charles H. Morris Center.

Parker’s renowned saxophone and flute were joined by a large entourage including guitar, bass, trumpet, trombone, keyboard, drums and back-up vocals. Parker and his “greatest little funk orchestra on Earth” quickly began funneling a smorgasbord of sounds, incorporating funk, jazz, blues, bebop and soul into one unified melody.

Parker’s powerful, deep vocals sometimes suddenly shot up into a high-pitched be-bop squeal, creating a diverse and lively rhythm to accompany his sax.

The night included all of the old favorites, encouraging life-long and newborn fans to sing along to hits such as “Make it Funky,” “It Takes Two to Make a Thing go Right,” “Papa Don’t Take No Mess” and “Gonna Have a Funky Good Time.”

Unfortunately, the Charles H. Morris Center was not the best layout for the set. For some reason, the self-proclaimed “Dance Party” was interrupted and crippled by rows upon rows of wooden chairs, reaching to all sides of the room.

As a result, the first fans to jump up and dance looked pitifully cramped and conspicuous, making the rest of the audience hesitant to follow. The full house barely fit into the hall, which seemed at times to amplify the music almost to an overload of sound.

Luckily, the cool grooves overpowered the poorly-planned layout, as couples gradually made their way to the dance floor one-by-one, pushing chairs out of the way to let loose. By the end of the show, the measly group of five or six dancing fans had grown to the majority of the audience, and most of the chairs were left looking silly and abandoned.

But the problematic layout wasn’t restricted to just the audience. Up on stage, Martha High of the James Brown Show was hidden far in the back next to the drums, and her microphone was turned down so low it was impossible to hear her. She seemed a completely unnecessary accessory until Parker left the stage for a breather and she suddenly climbed up to the front and opened her mouth.

Suddenly the seemingly extraneous woman with tight white curls became an amplifier for pure power. Her throaty notes were full of strength and unexpected volume, and she moved around the stage like a queen. High invoked the style and vocal command of Diana Ross, putting modern day female vocalists like Beyoncé and Rihanna to shame.

However, after her incredible display of power and range, High slunk back to her corner, never again to grace the audience with her breath-taking voice.

She wasn’t the only band member content in the shadows. Although Parker and trombonist Dennis Rollins were animated and bubbly on the stage, the rest of the band remained rather nonchalant.

The worst was guitarist Bruno Speight, whose impeccable talent was dulled by his expression, which alternated from dubious, concerned and bored. Perhaps he was just having a bad day, but he stuck out as a strange sight to behold considering everyone in the audience was grooving or singing in ecstasy.

But the music itself was top notch, single-handedly overcoming a layout problem and a blasé musician or two. The audience clearly had a great time, as middle-aged women bounced up and down wildly like 12-year-olds and couples of all ages slow-danced to the more soulful tunes.

Parker and his band performed an earnest salute to their own musical influences including James Brown, George Clinton, and Parliament-Funkadelic. Moreover, they gave Savannah a sparkling glimpse into the incredible vivacity and musicianship that is funk.

District reporter Danielle Austin caught up with audience members after the Punch Brothers’ show at Trustees Theater to get their take on how well the Punch Brothers lived up to expectations.

Fans and newcomers walked away with largely positive reviews to a night of rock with the Band of Horses.Photo by Brianna Leonard

District reporter Danielle Austin caught up with audience members after the Band of Horses show at Johnny Mercer Theater to get their take on how well the band lived up to expectations.

Contact Danielle Austin.
Contact Brianna Leonard.

By Deanne Revel
Is one medium not good enough anymore? I usually ask myself this when I’m at a concert. These days a lot of pressure is put on a band’s multimedia concert content rather than just the music or the playing. Can we not just watch the musician anymore? Apparently Savannah can’t.

On April 4, Band of Horses played at the Johnny Mercer Theatre in the Savannah Civic Center as part of the 2011 Savannah Music Festival lineup to an enthusiastic and attentive crowd. But, before the show, when lead guitarist Tyler Ramsey played guitar as the warm-up act, the Hostess City was not so attentive, but just plain rude.

When the lights went down (after 7:30 p.m.) I was shocked to see so many empty seats. But it became clear that half the audience was using the warm up act as buffer time—time to park, get a beer and find seats. Oh, and then vent loudly to friends about how hard their day at work was.

Whoa, Savannah, this is not concert etiquette. I have never seen so many people on their phones while live music is mere feet from them. Were they bored? I guess so because when a famous YouTube video of a cat with a weird tongue started playing—the background for BoH’s walkout—the audience became very interested if not entranced.

We need multimedia at concerts now. It seems to be a staple along with lighting design. While I love multimedia, this addition doesn’t always help the musician or the music. If it’s not good enough, it can ruin a concert. When DJ Spooky came to SCAD for deFINE ART, I was horrified by the old school visual graphics. It ruined the experience for me.

But some creative director needs to be thanked for the multimedia design of the BoH concert. It actually added to the performance and reinforced a lot of themes in BoH’s songs that sometimes get lost to critics and fans—or were lost somewhere between the first two albums and “Infinite Arms.”

Since “Infinite Arms,” there’s been a debate on whether BoH is still folk, “southern gothic” or even indie. Some say that “Infinite Arms” proves BoH is moving toward rock. And two songs into the show, when Ben Bridwell, BoH’s guitarist and lead singer, said, “I’m going to party with you,” I thought maybe this is the start of some rock. But the multimedia content playing behind the band during each song helps disprove that argument. BoH is still down home.

Every image or shot shown behind the band has something to do with nature. Footage of forests and canyons are rendered with subtle moving clouds. It felt like the audience was in BoH’s backyard, lying in the grass and watching the sky. And other footage features fireflies gently floating over calm water at sundown. I half expected mason jars under the theater seats to catch the fireflies.

Yes, this multimedia reflects them. I got the impression that each image was chosen with care for a certain song in the set list. It was this specific care that I also noticed when Bridwell asked the audience, “Have we ever played here?” And when the audience told him no, he replied, “I’m personally sorry.”

And this care might seem a bit childish, like an apology to your mother after you steal from the cookie jar, but there was a sense of professionalism, too. Some of the cinematography is so stunning it makes National Geographic look like a tween’s first Flickr album, especially the shot of the ocean with lightning touching down in the horizon during “Great Salt Lake.” And it wasn’t just the multimedia. There was an ownership in “Great Salt Lake” that I’ve never noticed or heard before.

Of course ownership was definitely noticed when the background changed to trees that resembled live oaks. Someone behind me yelled, “Hey, that looks like Savannah.” BoH hails from Charleston, S.C. so maybe it wasn’t intentional. But whether or not it was the landscape of our city or our sister city, it’s still something we all shared.

But images that weren’t so familiar to Savannah were still powerful and helped reinforce the sense of community. During “Marry Song” a still of a very shabby log cabin was shown. It looked somewhere out west. And it really doesn’t matter where.

What does matter is the delivery of a very important lullaby in BoH’s songbook. Bridwell sounded tired in “No One’s Gonna Love You.” And it was rushed. It’s a lullaby right? It sounded like it was hurting Bridwell to hit the high “one” of “No one.” And he had to try to do it many times.

When Bridwell introduced “The End’s Not Near,” saying, “This song is off the beaten path,” I thought another lullaby would be rushed, or ruined. But the delivery was flawless. Unfortunately, it’s not their material. It is their cover of the New Year’s song produced for The O.C. soundtrack “Covering our Tracks,” an album of covers. Bridwell said, “We covered it for a show about teenagers.” Maybe that implies the pressure is off. It could also explain the success of “Our Swords,” which was not played. Still, BoH should have given the same care to original material.

The best original material was the black and white Americana slideshow featured during “Laredo.” Some have said the “Laredo” lyrics are juvenile, implying that they are shallow and simple, but with the multimedia it makes sense now. Sure, it’s youthful and doe-eyed, but there’s substance there. It’s like an 18-year-old’s first road trip. And then sure enough during the next song a slide show played of the band and their travels on tour.

BoH didn’t rock out too much. I only counted two guitar solos. Their final set song, “Funeral,” was loud but it wasn’t rocked out. That was just heart.

The mountain image during “Funeral” duplicated and swirled like a kaleidoscope viewfinder. I felt five again, like America’s vast beauty is so overwhelming and I’m just so small. It wasn’t just the nature motif; BoH’s music has the power to do that, too.

The multimedia made me realize we were never meant to listen to BoH on our iPods on the subway. We’re supposed to listen to this music on someone’s porch. The multimedia and music worked together so effectively that I left the concert with the sensation after a runner’s high or a Southern Baptist sermon: refreshed, but humbled.

Usually it’s just music that helps me understand something. But with this show, you need both music and multimedia. And I’ve decided that’s OK, at least for this show. What I learned is that we can wear denim on denim every day, but BoH is the Americana no one can touch.

By Susan Kemp

Sometimes it’s hard to remember after 11 days of blues, jazz and classical music vibrating from all corners of Savannah’s Historic District, that Savannah’s emphasis on the arts is becoming a growing anomaly. It’s been a year where national and state budgets have tightened arts funding to their limits, which can especially be seen in Michigan, where the Detroit Symphony Orchestra has been on strike for the last six months.

That alone makes the opportunity to walk into a packed crowd at Lucas Theatre for the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra’s sixth visit to the Savannah Music Festival something worth seeking out.

I’d posit that the real reason to emphasize funding nonprofits like local symphonies and prioritize arts education in the schools is because art allows us to feel—to experience the world in a way that one might not otherwise.

It has been a while since I’ve experienced anything like Sunday’s performance by the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra.

The orchestra, led by guest conductor Roberto Abbado, opened with Brahms’ Symphony No. 1 in C minor, Op. 68. Instead of kicking off the show with a lot of bravado, Brahms’ concerto showcased the orchestra’s restraint and unity. The violins played a quick, disjointed melody, but the notes were so soft and precise that it felt anything but anxious. The cellos played under the violins, softly plucking the harmony.

The concerto emphasized the orchestra’s ability to rise and fall as one voice, as the soft melody would repeatedly crescendo into a louder, mid-tempo phrase before falling back down again. It’s even more impressive to see live, where the violinist’s bow rests like a fragile piece of glass glazing over the strings with each quick pluck. The audience can watch knowing that pushing just a tiny bit further would cause a crash instead of a hum.

When musicians can perform in such a way that all the minuscule components aren’t distracting—when we don’t feel the strain, when we don’t have to fight to find the focal point in the melody—then audience members are able to let their minds wander. And unlike math class or church, it’s perfectly permissible, even desirable.

It’s refreshing in today’s fast-paced culture to remember that our thoughts can take us somewhere nostalgic, and be more than just a constant nagging sensation of responsibilities and agendas.

That is not to say that all music should aim to calm us. Some music is violent and emotive, and to this end the audience was treated to Bruch’s Violin Concerto No. 1 in G minor, Op.26 with the violin solo performed by Daniel Hope.

Hope opened with an intensity unparalleled in the previous piece. He and the orchestra played back and forth, the violin part dragging out much longer notes than before. The tone shifted to something much more melancholy, even haunting as the solo reached its higher octaves but maintained the same strength. The orchestra responded to each violin part with the big bravado sound that I expected to see in the opening number.

Bruch’s concerto showed music’s ability to tell a story and yank human emotion around, seemingly at will. It felt reminiscent to a chase, where the cellos and basses thumped deep footsteps right behind the violins and violas frantically run ahead. Every few measures, the woodwinds came in with the flutes playing falling scales, creating a moment of relief before the horns chimed a deep reminder that the chase isn’t over yet and the whole frenzied race begins again.

The narrative is less important than the experience of seeing music live. A sort of synesthesia takes place when musicians get it right, and this year’s performance by the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra definitely did. The vibrations in a concerto such as this one, can be felt with the body, not just the ear.

By Jordan Wannemacher

The Punch Brothers, featuring mandolinist Chris Thile, performed a clean and flawless night of bluegrass to a nearly packed house at Trustees Theater on April 2.

Chris Thile, renowned for his previous progressive bluegrass trio Nickel Creek, has received a lot of attention throughout his career. Many consider him one of the greatest contemporary mandolin players of our time. When you hear Thile’s mandolin playing on a recording, it sounds like it must be a 60-year-old man playing with a lifetime of practice and experience. That’s why it comes as a shock to many that, despite being a 15-year veteran to the music industry, Thile is only 30 year old. But that hasn’t stopped him from accomplishing more than many do in a lifetime.

More impressive than his age is his ability to take an established genre, bluegrass, and make it something that’s accessible to the mainstream. No longer is bluegrass what your grandfather listens to on NPR early in the morning. Chris Thile has transformed it into an art capable of covering Radiohead songs.

Thile played along with his band the Punch Brothers, which is comprised of Gabe Witcher on fiddle, Noam Pikelny on banjo, Chris Eldridge on guitar and Paul Kowert on bass.

The Punch Brothers performed many songs from their 2010 album “Antifogmatic.” Thile explained to the audience the namesake of the album: “Antifogmatic is an old term for a beverage … generally rum or whiskey … that a person would have before going out to work in rough weather to help prevent any … ill effects.” Audience favorites off the new album included “You Are” and “Rye Whiskey.”

Another audience favorite was The Strokes cover of “Heart in a Cage” off of their 2006 album “How to Grow a Woman from the Ground.” The Punch Brothers made themselves famous for these progressive covers on that album, including a White Stripes cover of “Dead Leaves on the Dirty Ground.”

Along with The Strokes cover, one of the last songs the Punch Brothers played was a Beatles cover of “Paperback Writer.” Covers can be risky, especially when it’s a band like The Beatles, but the Punch Brothers pulled it off gracefully.

The Punch Brothers left the stage. However, due to popular demand, Chris Thile came back out for an encore. This was the highlight of the entire night. Thile did a purely instrumental solo to a Bach concerto on the mandolin. The unique blend of genres and eras that Thile incorporates into his music is what makes him truly unique.

The performance was one to remember. In the past, they have been known to perform Radiohead’s “Morning Bell” and “2+2=5,” but The Beatles and Bach made up for it. The music was very tight, clear evidence of the technical proficiency of each of the musicians. It’s also refreshing hearing something different than the same genre an entire concert. How often is it that you can say you heard a bluegrass Beatles cover right before Johann Sebastian Bach?

By Danielle Austin  

All week District has brought you updates from some of the most anticipated performers of this year’s Savannah Music Festival. Now it’s time to hear what you think.

District reporter Danielle Austin caught up with audience members after The Avett Brothers’ show at Johnny Mercer Theater to get their take on what parts of the night were memorable and what they can’t wait to forget.

Contact Danielle Austin.
Contact Brianna Leonard.

By Mary E. Mueller

An amalgam of pure instrumental brilliance erupted on March 30 at Lucas Theatre when banjo player Béla Fleck, bassist and composer Edgar Meyer and tabla drummer Zakir Hussain teamed together to unite their unique musical styles.

Greeted with booming applause, the three musicians walked casually along the stage to their instruments, waving and smiling cheerfully at the packed audience.

The trio settled into their groove the minute they started playing, as dozens of heads in the audience started bobbing up and down, toes began tapping and knees rose and fell rhythmically to the beat.

Meyer swerved sensually around his bass as if he were engaged in a waltz. Each caress of the strings was executed with intimate attention, like that of a man wooing his lover. He danced with his bass, his hips, shoulders and knees all gyrating in slow waves. His bass evoked the deep sounds of the cello as well as the high song of the viola.

The only way to describe Hussain’s interaction with his drums was that it was incredibly natural. Each beat seemed to seep from his soul, as though it was as normal an activity for him as breathing. His sense of speed and timing was at times suggestive of drummer Neil Peart—he never lost momentum as the audience watched expectantly, out of breath and infatuated. Hussain masterfully manipulated his drums to cover a wide range of genres, from African tribal beats to Indian pulses. At one point his drums sounded almost like beat boxing.

Fleck was not an equal partner or a lover with his banjo, but instead a god or a master manipulator, creating whatever sounds fit his mood. In one instance it was similar to Beverly Hillbilly bluegrass which he was inspired by, at the next it carried the sweeping Celtic notes of the Highlands, and then suddenly it would echo like an Elizabethan harpsichord. At times, paired with the drums, his banjo seemed to transform into a sitar which is understandable, considering Hussain toured with renowned sitar player Ravi Shankar for his very first concert.

Although there were only three instruments, there was no shortage of sound. Each vibration resonated clearly through the ears to the mind and soul, sending a delighted shiver into the shoulders. You could almost see the deep, heavy notes of the bass floating over the audience as their shoulders relaxed and dropped, their facial muscles loosened, and their eyes glazed over in dreamy lucidity.

This sense of naturalness was perhaps the main impression left from the show. Each song lacked the strict, structured sound of the rehearsed and planned. The trio seemed to require no effort or even thought, just pure, concentrated emotion oozing through the strings or skins.

The band’s jovial, familiar attitude fostered the intimate feeling that the audience was watching a private jam session. The sense of camaraderie and easy informality gave the impression that Fleck, Meyer and Hussain had been playing together since they were children, even though they only started performing together a few years ago.

Each musician was laid-back and low-key. There was no sense of pretension and it’s clear that their international fame has not gone to their heads. They poked fun at each other and joked with the audience between songs in quiet, unassuming voices. To put it frankly, they simply created good vibes.

The music was primal and basic, and yet refined and sophisticated. At one moment the audience was an African tribe hopping in the jungle, during others they were English genteel waltzing at a royal ball, and then suddenly they were engaged in a hoedown in Mississippi.

The diversity in range and style was staggering. A song would open sad, haunting and delicate, then suddenly it would turn upbeat and optimistic. The music seemed to create curves, dives, unexpected turns and jumps through the air. The subtle nuances in transition built or softly receded, creating at times such sounds as birds singing, frogs thumping, or even bones cracking.

At the close of the two hour show, the trio was applauded with a standing ovation and calls for an encore. Fleck, Meyer and Hussain happily obliged and immediately started swaying, tapping, or nodding to the beat. It was clear that the audience wasn’t the only ones having a good time.

From the first note to the last, they demonstrated amazing precision. They never missed a beat or hit the wrong note and, if they did, the audience never knew the difference.

By Anna Geannopoulos

Seth Avett is the type of man you see from afar and note his dapper hair, his tailor-fit button-down shirt and the way he wields a guitar exuding suaveness. And you think yes, this is the one. Then you find out he’s happily married and you ask if he has a brother that has similar fashion tastes and also plays the guitar. Brother? Yes. Guitar player? Try banjo. I can work with that, you think.

But younger brother Scott is also taken, so dejected you are content to just watch from afar and pretend they are singing their love songs to you. The Avett Brothers complete with Bob Crawford strumming the upright bass and touring members Joe Kwon on cello and Jacob Edwards keeping the beat on drums rolled into town with one objective: to make Savannah swoon.

And swoon we did. This band from North Carolina played almost non-stop at the Johnny Mercer Theater for nearly two hours. And the crowd stayed on their feet dancing the whole time to this interesting mixture of folk, pop, rock and soul.

For the first half hour, the brothers had a mysterious aura and barely said a word in between songs. But the lyrics of their songs, more like clever poems sung over a folk beat, kept the audience more than satisfied. Band members switched between instruments and the songs were a perfect blend of slow, fast, medium and just right.

Why the music festival catalog compares them to the Ramones I have no idea because, no offense Joey, Johnny and Dee Dee, but these guys can actually play their instruments.

And play them they did. Their dancing was endearing, their songs entertaining and their emotions raw and captivating.

Near the end of the set, the band played its most mainstream hit, “I and Love and You,” and although the audience sang along it didn’t steal or make the show. The eager cheers came loudly with every new opening rift.

If you know nothing about The Avett Brothers, don’t be dismayed by their marital status because they still have a lot of pleasure to offer. With their witty, sincere yet inspirational lyrics, backed by musical ability that would make a rock roll, The Avett Brothers are an experience not to miss.

To hear the brothers, visit their website and prepare to fall in love.

Contact Anna Geannopoulos.
Contact Brianna Leonard.

Bela Fleck and Marcus Roberts Trio delivered an energetic set. Photo by Ayano Hisa By Jordan Wannemacher

I can now say for the rest of my life that the most amazing thing I’ve ever done on a Tuesday was go see Béla Fleck and the Marcus Roberts Trio at Charles H. Morris Center during the Savannah Music Festival of 2011.

Béla Fleck, one of the greatest banjo players of all time (and inarguably one of the most versatile) performed with the Marcus Roberts Trio on March 29. There was no shortage of sheer genius talent among the trio either. Marcus Roberts, an extremely multifaceted jazz artist, played piano alongside Jason Marsalis on drums and Rodney Jordan on bass.

The venue was extremely intimate and had a beautiful stage set up. The acoustics were incredible, and being that close to the band, you really felt like you had them playing in your own living room. It was the perfect setting for a night of jazz.

While normally I’m accustomed to the banjo being used for bluegrass music, it was refreshing to hear banjo jams to jazz music. The banjo is not ordinarily the first instrument to mind when it comes to jazz, but wow does it sound amazing. The blend between sounds was beautifully harmonious.

Although the evening begun with jazz music, Béla and the trio quickly mixed it up to keep things interesting. Béla and Marcus played a ragtime duet and then later all four played a bluegrass blended jam that was reminiscent of some of Béla Fleck’s older experiments with the banjo. I really enjoyed that they covered so many genres of music in their 75 minute set. The diversity in their music choices really demonstrates the eclecticism of each musician’s abilities.

The performance was absolutely breathtaking. The talent exhibited in these four musicians was outstanding. Each musician, successfully displaying each of their outstanding individual talents, packed the performance with riveting solos. The audience excitedly applauded after each one, and by the end everyone was starting to dance a bit in their seat; the rhythm was truly contagious.

The Trio kept remarking on how much fun they were having performing together which really made it exciting for the audience and added to the intimacy of the moment. They really connected with the packed audience.

People came to Savannah from all over to experience the Savannah Music Festival. The couple to my right at the concert had come all the way from Canada, mainly to be there that very evening.

After the 6 p.m. show, Béla joked with the Trio, “Hey that was fun, let’s do it again real soon.” They did, of course, have another performance at 8:30 p.m. Béla also performed earlier in the afternoon at Kennedy Pharmacy on Broughton Street.