By Jhoni Jackson
There’s something about
country-based music that makes one year for a stiff drink, preferably –
considering current below-freezing temperatures – one that warms both the soul
and the body. Just as I was wondering why Atlanta bars don’t serve hot toddies
in winter, Maryland’s Cotton Jones took the stage. The early show time —
barely 9 p.m. – hadn’t helped draw a large crowd, but the ‘60s psychedelic-tinged
country-folk quickly warmed the empty spaces with twangy goodness – helping
ease the harsh sting of the weather outside.
Fronted by Michael Nau and Whitney
McGraw (with a drummer added live), Cotton Jones honored country’s good ol’
days with their endearing vocal exchanges, very much reminiscent of country golden
icons Loretta Lynn and Conway Twitty. Nau and McGraw’s back-and-forth was the
sweetest modern on-stage camaraderie I’ve ever seen outside of a Mates of State
show — and those two are married.
Greg Ashley (of electronic-psych
band Gris Gris) began his set abruptly with an unexpected winding acoustic
guitar solo, and the chatty audience didn’t seem to know whether he was tuning
or playing the first song. Throughout the performance, he sat solo with a
neglected cigarette burning like incense beside him. The airy, psychedelic
composition of 2007’s Painted Garden was disregarded entirely, and even
the patient, minimalistic feel of Medicine Fuck Dream (2003) was
no comparison for this stripped-down performance. Ashley switched to electric
mid-set for another vocals-free song, this one more intricate and technically
impressive. The crowd eventually settled and became so quiet you could almost
hear the toilets flush.
The pace picked up drastically when
Seattle’s Dutchess and the Duke began. Naturally, the set list focused on the
band’s Greg Ashley-produced October 2009 sophomore release, Sunrise/Sunset. A
vast majority of the crowd was happily swept up in foot-stompin’ fun on a level
rarely seen amongst too-cool-to-dance Earl patrons – especially during upbeat
numbers like “Let it Die” and “Reservoir Park.”
But after passing a cigarette
between the five musicians, the mood turned heavy for the haunting “I Am Just a
Ghost” (from 2008’s She’s the Dutchess, He’s the Duke). Ringleader Jesse
Lortz explained the band’s emotional ties to Atlanta – the late Bobby Ubangi,
who they’d become close friends with after their visit, often played percussion
alongside them at shows here. Lortz regretted not having enough time to visit
his grave, but joked that he was more than just in the group’s thoughts – he
was probably present, checking out girls’ butts. The song was delivered with sorrowful
faces and an audible, heartfelt honesty in Lortz’ voice. If Ubangi really was watching,
there’s no doubt he’d be proud.
