Take Em As They Come: Stole My Heart, John Velghe and the Prodigal Sons Build a Bigger Home.

“I’ve had the chance to say a lot of cool things into the microphone over the past couple of weeks but nothing as cool as what I’m about to say,” John Velghe stated, smiling and looking at the back of the house mid-set Saturday night.  Just returned from the South by Southwest (SXSW) Austin music conference, where he played with his old friend Alejandro Escovedo in a show with guests like Lenny Kaye and Garland Jeffreys and a surprise appearance by Peter Buck and Mike Mills, Velghe knew how much weight he was putting on whatever came next.

Abigail Henderson joins John Velghe and the Prodigal Sons for their version of "I Wanna Be Your Dog"

“I’d like Abigail Henderson and Chris Meck to come up,” he said, and the crowd at the Record Bar broke into applause, hoots and hollers. Henderson and Meck are the first couple of the largest community of interconnected musicians I’ve ever seen in Kansas City. Their organization, the Midwest Music Foundation, also just hosted its third annual MidCoast Takeover–this year featuring 32 of Kansas City’s finest performing for two straight days at Austin’s Shangri-La. The buzz from those shows has reverberated on many levels (32 band stories for starters), and they received a sizeable mention (and picture) in USA Today.

But this moment was about the stand-out performance on John Velghe’s debut solo EP released last year, his duet with Henderson on a cover of Iggy Pop’s “I Wanna Be Your Dog.”  Everyone on earth plays that song for the broiling assault it wants to be, but Henderson and Velghe hold back.  Saturday night, as on the record, they luxuriated in the sensuous simmer of the thing, Meck providing an equally controlled guitar part, shimmering stardust, hinting at a crown nebula.

Eventually, Velghe’s guitarist Mike Alexander [I hope a relation] began to push the song toward a rock crescendo, and everyone–Henderson and Velghe included–performed the final refrains with building bravado. Almost as soon as the song began to sound like the Stooges (or Jett or Escovedo), it came to an end.  This was the Henderson/Velghe version, and nothing outshines that thing they can do. [I hear Escovedo did Henderson's part at SXSW, and I'm sure it was great, but it wasn't that.]

The pop impulse is an effort to open the door to those who are shut out.  Some punks may not remember why we were drawn to that music in the first place, but Paul Weller, Paul Westerberg and [Bruce Springsteen] do. The rock and roll circus canvas was held open for them by the likes of Chuck Berry, Elvis Presley, Smokey Robinson and John Lennon–the biggest tent artists imaginable.

Velghe descends from that line, particularly the way John Lennon could take all the enormity and raw power of the rock and roll that came before him and deliver it in a lullaby. Both that scope of vision and that intimacy, after all, are the elements that most obviously connect Lennon to Velghe’s mentor Alejandro Escovedo

To say Saturday night’s show was, first and foremost, heralding the first CD by John Velghe and the Prodigal Sons (Don’t Let Me Stay) is also to say the show was about mixing things up.  After all, the Prodigal Sons (“and daughters” as Velghe pointed out, since two different women performed with the band live, and three play on the album) features guitars from the punk band Hipshot Killers propelled by the drums that give (first) name to Mike Dillon’s self-described “jazz, funk, rock, crunk” Go-Go Jungle, Mr. GoGo Ray.  The Sons’ three horns come from funky hip hop big-band Hearts of Darkness, reggae’s New Riddim and the night’s opener, Diverse, a jazz band born out of Bobby Watson’s UMKC program and intent on reinvigorating the sound of Kansas City. Lawrence-raised singer-songwriter, Kirsten Paludan joined Velghe on the mic numerous times, as she does on the album, and cello and violin players came from, respectively, the UMKC conservatory and Missouri Western. This intersection between traditional and avant garde jazz, funk, punk, reggae, and classical all merge seamlessly in Velghe’s music.

In some ways, that story’s in the artists he covers.  That night, Velghe and family covered the Jam at that band’s greatest pop moment, The Gift, with the song ”Town Called Malice”; and they covered the Replacements at that band’s greatest pop moment, Pleased to Meet Me, with the song that serves as the apex of that moment, “I Can’t Hardly Wait,” and they covered Bruce Springsteen with a song that could also be given the same distinction, “Hungry Heart.”  Velghe introduced that song, dedicating it to the Ramones (for whom Springsteen wrote it), underscoring the pop impulse at the heart of most rock revolutions. The pop impulse is an effort to open the door to those who are shut out.  Some punks may not remember why we were drawn to that music in the first place, but Paul Weller, Paul Westerberg and that guy from Jersey do. The rock and roll circus canvas was held open for them by the likes of Chuck Berry, Elvis Presley, Smokey Robinson and John Lennon–the biggest tent artists imaginable.

Velghe descends from that line, particularly the way John Lennon could take all the enormity and raw power of the rock and roll that came before him and deliver it in a lullaby. Both that scope of vision and that intimacy, after all, are the elements that most obviously connect Lennon to Velghe’s mentor Alejandro Escovedo in part by way of Ian Hunter and Mott the Hoople (so, then, yes, David Bowie, too).  Those same elements tie Lennon to Alex Chilton and both of them to the Clash and Velghe’s early and apparent inspiration, Paul Westerberg and the Replacements.

You can hear all those folks in Velghe’s CD (which I had to, I mean needed to) buy at the show.  But you can’t really isolate them.  Suffice it to say, “I Can’t Hardly Wait”–with all of its punching horn urgency and almost crippling vulnerability–would fit beautifully on this record.  For me, though, the song that sums up where this line can go is maybe the record’s quietest moment, “Iron Skin.” That one is a lullaby, a dark and seemingly ancient lullaby, all the more beautiful for the way it fingers despair.

From beginning to end, Don’t Let Me Stay, is a warm and brilliant record.  It starts off diffidently flirting with the risk of relationships, having lived long enough to know things tend to end badly.  By mid-record, it’s finding comfort in the fact of hope on the country-flavored “Heaven’s Waitress” and the ability to dream on the exuberant rocker “Austin (You Sorta Stole My Heart).”  After the climactic paranoia of “Owe My Soul” and the wounded triumph of “Mumbling Town” (a riot act aimed at indirectness), the last three songs sing of solidarity in the face of loss. The characters in these songs have pieces gone forever, but as this closes, they’ve found ways to work with the contradictions and the pain.  Ghosts, too, are part of this community, a rock and roll town pitted against malice.

I write a lot about community, so much so that I worry about using the word for fear of being cliched.  I’m not sure I’ve ever written the names Abigail Henderson and Chris Meck without attaching that concept, which is one reason they are heroes of mine, so much so I grow self conscious in their presence.  As Velghe’s record recognizes from verse one, part of life is that we let each other down. Whatever approximates redemption lies in how we fight forward together anyway. John Velghe and the Prodigal Sons, in their live show and on record, embody that vision as only the finest groups can.

Postscript:  One of the many highlights of the show that can’t go unmentioned came as an opening act.  Hermon Mehari’s trumpet adds plaintive, searching touches to many of Velghe’s songs when he plays his role of Prodigal Son (particularly on “The Occupier,” “Assume the Ground,” and “Mumbling Town”), but his band Diverse Trio delivered an exciting opening set.  Both bassist Ben Leifer and drummer Ryan Lee maintain the urgency of each moment while making sure the band swings.  Mehari, meanwhile, manages to eloquently state beautiful melodies while playing with a sense of boundaries as daring as any free jazz.  That set closed with Kirsten Paludan and John Velghe coming out for one song before Hearts of Darkness frontman Les Izmore and drummer Brad Williams (Ryan Lee went to keyboards) managed to turn the house out with anthemic KC hip hop. Expect a Diverse blog in the not-too-distant future. I needed to buy that CD, too!

The Prodigal Sons and Daughters, once again (cause a couple only got indirect mention and everyone deserves it)–

John Velghe, singing with a guitar
Mike Alexander, lead guitar
Chris Wagner, bass
GoGo Ray, drums
Hermon Mehari, trumpet
Sam Hughes, saxophone
Mike Walker, trombone
Kirsten Paludan, vocals
James Mitchell, cello
Katie Benyo, violin (live)
Whitney Williamson, violin (on record)
Catherine Root, violin (on record)

It is at this very moment that Don’t Let Me Stay becomes more than an alt-country or Americana record, and begins to brazenly reveal flashes of the Big Star and Replacements influences that drove Velghe to begin creating music in the first place.

02/10/12: Katy and Go-Go / John Velghe + More @ RecordBar « Riot on the Plaza.

When I wrote these songs they were in a nutshell.   On a cassette tape here, a voicemail message there, chords, words, melodies.  Demoing them amounted to a basic 4/4 beat and singing and playing into a mic.  A couple were never demo’d at all, instead committed from head to mic on the fly.  (something I swear to stop doing, do, regret, and end up sticking with thanks to the feedback of some great friends)  Each of the folks who played on these songs added something to it; like a kilner, stillman, and a blender.

I purposely went into this recording process without a finished product in my head.  A dicey proposition, but I’ve gotten to the point that I know “the thing” when I hear it.  Besides, going into a studio with full faith in the people you are playing with makes it a lot easier to stand or fall by the outcome.

So we’re here.  The tracking board has only a few empty boxes where the Xs go.  Mics have been aimed, Vox tubes blown, compressor knees flexed, mic ribbons tickled, cigarettes smoked, and spirits consumed.  15 songs in and there are some amazing parts committed to sine waves assembled from 1′s and 0′s.

We’ll complete tracking next week.  Then the songs will get rough mixed and will sit, like a good rye whiskey.

Mixing will happen in late September.  From there, it’s up to the drinkers of this little world to take it all in, put their woozy heads to bed and dream the dreams we hoped they would.

Michael also talks a bit about this Friday’s Apocalypse Meow 3 benefit show for the Midwestern Music Foundation.

Give The Mailbox a listen.  There are some great songs on this week’s show including Lana Mir’s gorgeous cover of The Stone Roses song “I Wanna Be Adored”

Michael’s theme this week appears to be “I Wanna Be. . . ” and let’s your imagination take it from there.

Every show I’ve played in this millennium has included a cover of I Wanna Be Your Dog (Hell, I haven’t bought a guitar that didn’t drone G, F#, E as it’s first chords in my hands).  That started as an homage to my friend and mentor, Alejandro Escovedo (who would probably kill me for calling him a mentor).  The tradition gained a sense of urgency and reverence when Al collapsed and nearly died after a show in Phoenix in 2003.  And covering the song took on a new sense of rapture after Al returned to the stage in 2006.  But covering “Dog” wasn’t all just about Al.  Sometimes, you just can’t shake a great hook.

Ron Asheton

For me, Ron Asheton’s guitar playing always had this gorgeous blend of slop and accuracy – I call it the ever-important tension between abandon and unity.  Ron created this tension in every song.  In short, his playing was the living embodiment of the rock-n-roll convention of “living on the edge.”  Countless guitar players copped his approach.  Some even pulled it off, (Johnny Thunders, Bob Stinson, and a few others come to mind).  

Ron Asheton and the Stooges arguably gave rise to more authentic rock bands than any other guitar player/band combination.  It’s largely because Ron Asheton wrote recklessly gorgeous guitar parts paired perfectly with Iggy’s delivery.  For most of us The Stooges are the embodiment of everything good about punk and eventually everything too many indie rock bands never learned or forgot.

The Stooges

Though Madonna did her part, Ron Asheton lay dead  in his home for days never having been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Assholes . . . er . . . excuse me, “Fame.”  An indignity those of us not in the Stooges might consider absolutely insufferable, but one I’m pretty sure  Asheton shrugged off and would find completely appropriate.  After all, what fame did the world of mainstream music ever heap on the Stooges that wasn’t brought to them through a TV commercial?  And what more did Ron ever want besides to play?

There’s really nothing much more I can say about Ron Asheton, except, well, So messed up, I want ya here.  

Note to band-mates:  don’t expect to stop covering this song any time soon.