70 Degree weather for 70s music

70 degrees, 70s music and every generation represented

Physical injuries kept me inside these past few weeks, except to see/hear a few bands and of course, my kid's sports games, and one last shot at watching the fireworks with my friend who's moving to California.

It started out on a humid but chilly night at the Circle A, with a band I've seen before but most certainly enjoyed enough to make an effort to catch again: Chain Drive. They're made up of drummer Vic Demechei, bassist Jacob Muchin (both of whom have been sitting in with Voot Warnings lately) and Sonny Garr on keys. Together, they could easily be a jazz combo working the lounge circuit, but they're also too snappy and prog for that. Every time I see them -- in fact, make that every song they play -- I want to say in a chopped voice afterwards, "A Quinn Martin Production!" in response to their 70s detective show vibe. But they're good at it, and varied at it. Just when you think they're sliding into a groove, Demechei changes it up and takes you somewhere you don't expect, and the rest of the band deftly follows him into that abyss, only to crawl back out intact. They were followed of course by a Voot Warnings set, which was equally good. But it's kind of like getting "Meets Expectations" on your performance review at work: I always have high expectations for Voot Warnings, so when he's excellent, he simply "meets expectations."

A week or so later was the 3rd of July, and like I said, I have a somewhat annual ritual with my friend Mary Jo, who lives on the east side. Rather than dealing with Big Bang fireworks traffic, for almost the past 10-20 years, I'd cart my bike (and my kids' bikes, for those years when they wanted to, which was often when they were little) to her house, and we'd ride down on the bike paths, avoiding sitting in a car in idle and parking that far away anyway.

Calliope was scheduled to play at Company Brewing that night, and as it was that weird "you have one day off in the middle of the week" stuff, we decided we could do a late night and see an excellent band. So after dodging cars on the way back, we settled in for a less than packed crowd (disappointing, given the bill) we sat through a couple of other bands that were fun while waiting for the band that blew me away last winter. The first band was General B and the Wiz, an outfit out of Minneapolis with this lead singer named Quincy Voris whose 70s porn star 'stache (and haircut for that matter) almost covered up his significant bluesy range. They had a 70s funk blues jazz vibe to them, and the rest of the band hangs together well, especially when the switch gears and rock out, which happened quite often. It took their entire set for me to figure out what to make of them, which is a good sign. They were followed by Lake of Fire out of Austin TX, and were described as " painting liquid, dreamy southwest landscapes with deep grooves" and that was a fairly accurate take on them. Calliope finished out the night, with their psychedelic jams. They were particularly more jammy then the last time I'd seen them, and were a good way to finish off what had been a long day of working, bicycling and partying.

And then I fell into a pool, bruised my heel, and decided to stay inside while the weather climbed into the 90s, peeking out just the other night for a comfortable, reliable old standby, The Five Card Studs. For personal reasons for both me and my companion Mary Jo, we needed to hear Ms Rocky Mountains belt out "I Will Survive" and then cool us down with a little Hall and Oates remind us all how we should  put our foot down and say "I Can't Go For That." Both Mary Jo and I remember the times (the 70s) when the entire Studs playlist ruled the airwaves, and the show, as it always does, both shaves off the years, and reminds us of them. This is a band whose set is culled from probably a dozen or so K-Tel compilations they either dug out of the cutout bin, or stumbled across in garage sales.  Early in the night, we noticed this was music that anybody could appreciate: little kids jumping around, older folks waltzing, and everybody in-between just taking it all in. I've often said the half the fun of a Studs show is the people watching, and last Wednesday in Shorewood was no exception. Buy the end of the night the grassy stretch that served as a dance floor was packed with people who could let loose, but since we're all in on the joke, nobody feels stupid. That's kind of what made the 70s great.