Kansas City Blog

Setting the stage was Lawrence's Tiny Tuxedo (apologies to The Great Northern for missing most of their set). This is the second time I've caught the group , and they've make some great strides with a new banjo player – J.J. Hanson a.k.a. Yukon Jimijon – and campfire songs that reach beyond straightforward country and bluegrass fare. A five-piece rounded out by acoustic guitar, upright bass, keys and drums, the band's elephant in the room is singer/guitarist Cainro, who stomps around like a man possessed and works the crowd by leaning off the front of the stage and striking random trophy poses (Gogol Bordello would be a good point of reference here, but not quite so Eastern European). Singer Alison Olassa contributes some spot-on harmonies and micro organ, and the whole unit always appears to be having a really good time onstage. I look forward to hearing Tiny Tuxedo's songs put to tape; in the meantime, catch 'em live to get the full experience.

Taking the stage in a sharp white suit and black fedora, Langhorne Slim hardly looked the part of the roadweary singer who tours like it's the only thing he knows. Backed by upright bassist Paul Defiglia and drummer Malachi DeLorenzo (a.k.a. the War Eagles), the trio tore through a set heavy on material from Slim's new self-titled album.

DeLorenzo is the son of Violent Femmes drummer Victor DeLorenzo, and he plays in a similarly driving style with brushes flailing. The Femmes are probably one of the best mainstream points of reference for what Slim sounds like, and there's also a bit of Jack White in his crackly voice. But his simple-yet-sound songs are distinctly his, characterized by sly turns of phase (You can blame it on your teachers/You can blame it on the weather/Blame it on how you mother and father didn't stick together) that charm more often than they fall flat.

One element missing from Slim's performance last night was the varied instrumentation -- the piano, mallets, wurlitzer, etc., that enliven his new album. I'm all for economy in today's expensive touring climate, but a multi-instrumentalist would have been a big asset. Nonetheless, the enthusiastic crowd – butterfly-winged girls and all – ate it up, dancing along like I vaguely recall doing myself to certain Violent Femmes songs at certain uninhibited junctures of my teenage life.

At the heart of Slim's music is an old-soul sensibility; a man wise beyond his years who offers up grandfatherly advice such as Take some chances / Allow yourself to get lost / You're beautiful baby, you're the boss / You gotta learn to get happy along the way. While such a lyric could feel forced in the hands of a less convincing singer, Slim owns it and stares you down to let you know he means it. The grizzled music critic in me might raise an eyebrow or two, but in the end I'm right there with him.

Critic's Notebook
Personal bias: I prefer blue suits, like the one Adam Sandler wore in Punch Drunk Love.
Random detail: Slim purchased his suit at Wild Man Vintage, which recently rejected two of my suits. I guess polyester doesn't breathe as well in summer.
By the way: If you dig Slim, check out Bishop Allen, another great band that wears suits.