Handsome Family, Okkervil River, Pearly Gates
Emo’s, February 18
Less is more. It was a night of reductive alternative-country at Emo’s, the music getting sparser and more austere as the night went on. Austin’s Pearly Gates crowded the stage first, with a drum set, keyboard, bongo player, tape machine, drum machine, bass player, and kitchen sink virtuoso. The eccentric mixture bubbled and boiled as the band went through dirgey Appalachian melodies cluttered with all the extraneous instruments and a theremin layered over the top for a weird Fifties sci-fi effect (imagine a group of West Virginia minstrels doing soundtrack music for Teenagers From Outer Space). The last song abruptly shifted gears from a clubfooted stomp (the keyboards set on “xylophone, extra-incongruous”) to a delicate, hypnotic ballad before the band bid adieu to a bemused crowd. The locals in Okkervil River came on with murder and desperation next, weaving songs with pure, immaculate melodies reminiscent of Uncle Tupelo circa the March 16-20, 1992 CD. The trio’s spare instrumentation (guitar, bass, drums, and the occasional banjo or mandolin) contrasted Pearly Gates’ orderly aural hash. Unfortunately for the Okkervil folksí songs flowed into each other a little too well, adding up to a set that had little variety in tempo or melody. As spare as their songs were, though, Okkervil was downright ornate compared to the Handsome Family. Rather than the Maw/Paw/Younguns setup (à la the Carter Family or Mayberry’s Darling Family), the Handsome Family is a husband/wife/drum machine setup, nothing more, nothing less. With simple melodies, a bass, and guitar, the Chicago duo sounded like an entire band while keeping the unfettered dignity of a Shaker chair. Occasionally Rennie Sparks would switch off to a melodica or autoharp, thankfully keeping that fave instrument of grade-school music teachers to the occasional plunk rather than the steady strumma-strum. She and husband Brett pulled off clean harmonies while singing lyrics as dark as the inside of an empty Pabst can — the weirdness knob turned up to 11. Any band that can do country-tinged songs about serial killers, dead dogs, and midnight moves out of fleabag apartments deserves a serious listen. It may not win the approval of Nashville, but so much the better. After all, less is more.This article appears in February 25 • 2000.