Confederacy of a Dunce - Part of the American Circus

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

The past week has been a great one for live music. So good, in fact, that I am going to barely mention a fantastic show by Sufjan Stevens and the Illinoisemakers (reviewed in the Independent). This is even though Sufjan Stevens is odds-on favorite to win the Dunce household's coveted "Musician of the Year" award for 2005 (the only thing standing in his way is that no such award exists). And I'm also not going to say much about a great show last night by Chris Mills, another of the Dunce family's favorites (aha! his tour blog is over here, but doesn't mention this show just yet). Mainly because anything I write about the show would turn into a rant about the Borderline and the terrible job they've done in promoting shows since they've become a part of the whole Mean Fiddler enterprise. Monday night shows are lower in attendance than other nights anyway, and, well, as Chris put it himself, "Welcome to the secret Chris Mills gig". (see also a couple weeks ago when Mike Ferrio's Monday gig was even more secret, not even appearing on the club's own website). Harrumph, that's what I say.

No, today's entry will focus upon New York City's angriest yodeling banjo player, Curtis Eller, and his recent show at the 12 Bar Club.

From the bio on his website, "He sings about pigeon racing, performing elephants and Jesus, all of which he has seen with his own eyes. He started his show-business career at the age of seven as a juggler and acrobat in the Hiller Olde Tyme Circus in Detroit, but has since turned to the banjo because that's where the money is. His biggest musical influences are Buster Keaton, Al Jolson and Abraham Lincoln." He's made it to London a few times now (solo, leaving the rest of the American Circus behind). The first time I saw him was at the Fiddlers Elbow (the now-defunct Come Down and Meet the Folks club with which regular readers should be quite familiar) where his banjo antics won the crowd over. His songs take a lot of themes from the period between the wars. And by that I mean beteen the Civil War and World War II. For example, one song takes the perspective of Karl Wallenda's wife (shockingly, the Wallendas are still at it [despite all the falls] although they've fractionated into various groups of [superlative] Wallendas). Or "1890" which is a song of misery, with the message

...And I’m hoping this is just a run of bad luck
And maybe next season the crowds’ll be better
And the spanish web will turn in the spotlight
And the blood will return to my heart

And here’s hopin’ things pick up in 1890...

His songs of bygone days aren't just fictional, either. For example, consider the lyrics of his song The Execution of Black Diamond, a tale of a circus elephant shot dead in Corsicana, Texas (Bb minor if you're humming along), and compare it with the historical record (rootsweb.com link). OK there are some questions about the number of bullets it took to bring Black Diamond down, but I bet those questions have been around since the day it happened.

Another historic incident, well, I know I've vowed previously not to turn this into a political blog, but how could I avoid ranting about the insanity in the White House?! It's crazy, that's what it is, the utter madness of the President of the US, and if I'd known about this tale sooner maybe I'd be a political blogger today. Thanks to super-patriot Curtis Eller for bringing it to our attention!! I'm talking, of course, about the madness of Abraham Lincoln as mentioned in the song "Sugar in My Coffin". Digging up the corpse of his dead son (not once but twice), bad enough that Mary Todd had to hold a seance? OK maybe the body was in a tomb and required no mud-digging, but still.

And I still haven't mentioned his performing style which has to be seen to be believed (waltzing with the banjo, standing perched on a rickety stool, climbing into the balcony, creeping into a corner, contorting and jigging and stretching in all sorts of directions). Or name-checking Ypsilanti (Actually, come to think of it, of the artists I've seen this week only Chris Mills doesn't have a song mentioning Ypsilanti, thanks to "For The Windows In Paradise, For The Fatherless In Ypsilanti" by Sufjan Stevens). All that and a really nice guy too. It was good to see the 12 Bar packed with people to see him. I'll be making a real effort to see him again, maybe even outside of London.

Finally, cosmik.com has a great interview with him here; I didn't have a chance to weave the link into the tale above.

music

Tuesday, October 25, 2005 3:27:02 PM (GMT Standard Time, UTC+00:00)