Downtown Sound

I've been listening to Abigail Washburn's music since her first album, Sparrow Quartet, came out in 2008. This past Monday, she played a free show here in Chicago. Heather and I arrived an hour and a half early, ate a sushi picnic on the Great Lawn at the Pritzker Pavilion, then moved down to get seats in the tenth row.



We got to see Washburn and her band (a guitarist and a fiddler, in addition to Washburn herself on banjo) sound check -- working on their arrangements, they decided to include a fiddle solo during which Washburn tap danced in front of a foot-level microphone. She laughed, swirling her arms as she danced. "It's so much harder when I have to think about how it sounds," she said after the mic was rigged.

It's been a while since I've been to a concert by a musician whose work I know from recordings (the Low Anthem in Harrisburg, maybe?), so it was great to hear songs I know reinterpreted live. Watching Washburn perform live, particularly with Kai Welch, her songwriting partner on her latest album, gave new insight on some of the music. She retold the story about "Taiyang Chulai"that you can see in the video above, and mentioned that her husband had walked in while she was writing "If I Had A Shotgun" (a darkly comic murder ballad). "He walked away pretty quick," she said.

If Abigail Washburn was a new insight into music that I love, the second act on the double bill was more of an unknown. From the moment that the band (trumpet, bari sax, organ, drums, bass, guitar) launched into a driving soul vamp, however, I was excited. "Please welcome," growled the organist, taking the still-vacant lead singer's mic, "The original Black Swan, the Screaming Eagle of Soul, the one, the only MISTER CHAAAAAAARLES BRAAAAAADLEY!"



Bradley has an inspiring life story and a charismatic stage presence. He tossed the microphone away from himself, and caught it while kneeling on the stage, yelling like James Brown. Before he was signed to Daptone Records (a familiar name, perhaps, to those who have heard Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings), Bradley performed as a James Brown impersonator. While this show captured that 70s funk-soul vibe to a tee -- with Bradley's vest open to his belly button and his horn players doing a synchronized two-step throughout the entirety of the show -- he sang all original material, centering on lyrics promoting love and togetherness. Washburn, introducing him, referred to him as the "Dalai Lama of Soul," saying "He gave me a hug and it felt like I was floating."

I didn't get a hug from the one and only Mister Charles Bradley, but throughout the night, there were some moments of floating.