|
It was one of those nights for Susan Cowsill and her band - an evening of hoarse vocals, broken strings, forgotten lyrics, misplaced sheet music and an unfortunate buzz from the sound system.
The set list was sloppily arranged, subject to abrupt change and filled with loosey-goosey, jokey-wokey extemporizing, as Cowsill tried to charm her way out of trouble.
She only partly succeeded.
That's why I'm writing about Cowsill today, one full week after her concert at the Moonlight Music Cafe in Vestavia Hills. Her 9:10 p.m. show on Dec. 2, which lasted three hours, left me feeling dissatisfied despite its length and discomfited by its ramshackle quality.
To her credit, it seemed obvious that Cowsill, 46, was doing her best to make up for the glitches, goofs and gaffes that plagued much of the performance. When equipment failed, she sang a cappella. When the key was wrong, she apologized with a grin and switched to another. When the plan broke down, she made a new plan on the spot.
How much of it was bad luck? How much poor preparation? And how much should an audience let Susan Cowsill and her group get away with?
I've been pondering.
On the one hand, Cowsill's comedy of errors could seem cute and refreshing - the antithesis of slick, overly rehearsed touring productions that leave little room for improvisation.
When she and the band had their act together and settled down to play, they made music that was well worth hearing, particularly on several numbers from Cowsill's latest disc, "Just Believe It."
The folk ballad "Nanny's Song" offered a poignant look at a dying woman's last words. "Palm of My Hand" was a slice of infectious jangle-pop, obviously a Cowsill specialty.
Best of all, "Crescent City Snow" (available on the internet as an MP3) provided a lovely tribute to Cowsill's devastated hometown of New Orleans.
Cowsill and her group didn't fare so well, however, when they switched over to a "Covered in Vinyl" set of 1970s tunes by Fleetwood Mac, the Eagles, Joni Mitchell, Wings, Cat Stevens and Neil Young.
Previously, Keith Harrelson, owner of the Moonlight, had promised Cowsill would do a track-by-track rendition of Wings 'Band on the Run." But Cowsill said she lacked the horn players necessary to do the LP justice.
That was fine, if slightly disappointing. However, her substitution of "Covered in Vinyl" miscellanea - selections from full-album shows she had done in the past - would have worked better if it were tighter and more cohesive. Cowsill appeared to be pulling every song from the air, maybe rehearsed and maybe not.
Various technical problems certainly didn't help.
I walked into the nighclub that evening inclined to like Cowsill, admiring her work with the Continental Drifters and willing to cut her some slack.
Like other New Orleans residents, she and her husband, drummer Russ Broussard, had their lives up ended by Hurricane katrrina. They had lost much and are soldiering on.
Still, some basic line of professionalism got crossed during the Dec. 2 performance. The continual mishaps and mistakes became tedious. Attempts to compensate with humor soon lost their amusing zing.
Even though Cowsill thanked the crowd for its patience, my patience had worn thin long before the final number.
|
