Photo credit: Alexander Staffors
Would the back of a band's T-shirt lie? In the case of Blackberry Smoke, the answer would be both yes and no.
One fan of the Atlanta quintet was sporting a piece of apparel declaring the band "TOO ROCK FOR COUNTRY-TOO COUNTRY FOR ROCK.” Never may a group have ever better summarized the marketing predicament that fuels their ascendant career arc.
Blackberry Smoke’s fourth and latest studio album, Holding All the Roses, landed atop Billboard's country chart upon its release last month, placing high on the trade magazine's rock albums listing as well. They don’t succumb to the regrettable inclination of numerous commercial radio country-bro hunks to immerse themselves in the musical (and hedonistic lyrical) tropes of ’80s glam metal, yet the group sounds much more at home on certain rock airplay formats than the majority of what Bob Kingsley and Bobby Bones play on the countdown shows local country station WMIL 106.1 air every weekend. And this regardless of their previous album, The Whippoorwill, having been co-produced by current iconoclastic hit maker Zac Brown and containing songwriting credits by Brown and Nashville heavyweight Gordon Kennedy.
Blackberry Smoke's well-attended date at The Eagles Club Thursday night, however, evidenced them as purveyors of a sort of refangled throwback to one of the roots of mainstream country's present infatuation with rock. They land solidly on the diving line of what 40 years ago would have been called country rock and the Southern boogie sound of acts such as The Allman Brothers and Lynyrd Skynyrd. Were these guys to have been on the bill of one of Charlie Daniels' Volunteer Jam back when, they would have been an easy fit.
There were stretches of jamming with varying degrees of tightness and jazz inflection throughout their 25 songs Thursday, and the parallels that give them appeal to country fans desirous of something beyond the Music City hegemony were evident. Frontman Charlie Starr's lead vocals evince conviction without drawing more attention to himself than the songs that speak of small triumphs, life in little towns, righteously fine women, taking revenge on petty jerks and, a subject with which they doubtless have personal experience, the exasperating machinations of the music business.
|
|
Engaging, resonant and affirming as Smoke's music must be to the wide array of listeners in attendance populating the roughly three-quarters full space, stage presence isn't likely among the band's attraction. Starr sounds sincere when he thanks the audience for their enthusiastic reception, but he doesn't go much beyond that. Some that can be attributed to how each band member holds an instrument, but even so they could perhaps benefit from a lesson or three from the second of their opening acts, The Temperance Movement. Scottish lead singer Phil Campbell wasn't much less reticent than Starr, but he let the bluesy neo-classic rock of his four accomplices send him into flights of spazzy, yet somehow fluid dance, even as he maintained the soulfulness of his Joe Cocker-meets-Rod Stewart on yowl. Lord willing, their first time in Milwaukee won't be their last.
Opening the evening on a lower key was Leon Virgil Bowers. Mingling folk, gospel, country and blues in remakes and originals as he accompanied himself on acoustic and electric guitars, harmonica and a bass drum, his sturdy baritone recalls a less craggy Kris Kristofferson or more forceful John Hartford. He captivated well enough as a solo act, but even a couple more players could bring him to even greater artistic heights.
