Outside Counsel

Shoes, "Black Vinyl Shoes". Although the liner notes are at considerable pains to describe the technical limitations of the recording process, what jumps out here is the songcraft. These are well put together little numbers, each with snappy hooks, and tasty licks, each in its way a perfect little pop gem. Lyrically the songs are about angst and love lost among the 20 somethings, which is unfortunate; although there is a universal quality to the subject matter, it is not one that I have any interest in today, even as nostalgia. It is interesting also, to think that the distinctive sound of this side, imposed by the technology available to the band in their living room, would today be an effect that would be digitally reproduced. Chances are that if these guys were making this album today, what we'd get would be "Boston".

Then to Cracker last night at the Icon. This is a band that I have a passing familiarity with, because it is a favorite of my friends, but I can't say that I have ever given them a sustained listen. This was a stripped down version: David Lowery and Johnny Hickman with the Hackensaw Boys, the opening act, sitting in on some numbers. It was a terrific set, very pro. Tom Knab is fond of saying that "Somewhere out there the greatest band in the world is playing in some bar," and on this particular night we happened to be in the right bar. Both Shoes and Cracker share in common the fact that they have the tools to appeal to larger audiences. There were about two hundred people at the Icon last night, and they saw a terrific show. Although the Shoes album is described as "legendary", and although they did get a contract, I have never met anyone else that has heard of them. I remember that the album was hard to find (I can't recall where I found it). Nowadays if it is out there it can be located and purchased, diluting the record store treasure hunt as one of the joys of being a music fan. "Black Vinyl Shoes" is an interesting relic from the time before digital, and a nice bit of pop product. As nostalgia what it invokes in me is not the romantic ache that is its subject matter, but rather a remembrance of the time that I sought this sort of thing out semi-obsessively.