Mark Olson: Little Bird of Freedom

Caught Mark Olson at Club Passim two nights ago and wanted to get the word out that if you can see him perform go do it. He left Cambridge Sunday night for Portland, Maine, then he said he was going straight to Germany where he was going to meet up with Ingunn Ringvold who he made his latest album with.

I am fairly familiar with the Jayhawks, but really didn't know a lot about Mark as a solo performer. The great thing about Club Passim is how intimate the setting is. Now most of the time when you call a venue "intimate" it means the tables are all crowded on top of one another. And, yes, that is true about Club Passim, although whoever is sitting next to you is likely to be equally as interested in music as you are, and likely to know even more. After all, it is Cambridge. But intimate, in this case, also means that the artists and the patrons mingle, and while Mark and Mallory, one of Club Passim's crack sound technicians (the club has a wonderful, clear-sounding sound system) set up, I turned in my chair and saw someone who was clearly a musician walk in from backstage (it's really an outdoor patio) clutching a fiddle case, and wearing lime green pants, suspenders, a yellow shirt, and a straw hat that rode over the clearest blue eyes I think I've ever seen. It was Mike "Razz" Russell, longtime cohort of Olson's and a member of The Creekdippers. I still didn't know who he was, but we talked about him going to the movies at the Brattle Street Theater where he fell asleep, and about music and playing and a little bit about how he got together with Mark. He said if Mark hadn't asked him to play he still might be sitting on his front porch. Afterward, Mark stood in the lobby and talked with us far longer than you'd ever expect him to do. He seemed genuinely happy to be talking to us about his music and what he was up to and about the gig he just played.

Mark and Mike are both from Minnesota, and from living in Boston for so long, and always having to deal with both its angry and snooty sides, it was such a breath of fresh air to talk to them and watch them perform. They were joyous and had so much fun together (they had a drummer, whose name I don't know but he was so tight and had such a beautiful voice, like one you'd hear in a choir.) Mark's songs are optimistic and loaded with imagery from the outdoors, again something you'd expect from the Midwest.

Mark played a lot from his newest album, Many Colored Kite. This is the opening track and I love it. It fits in so much with the play I'm writing right now, Highland Center, Indiana.

The Jayhawks: Angelyne

I always have to be digging around.

I've known about The Jayhawks for a while. Have downloaded some of their files. As a matter of fact, the first time I ever saw Lucinda Williams, The Jayhawk opened for her. So, yeah, I've been aware of them for awhile.

But last night I was looking through the current No Depression "bookazine" and read a review of Ready for the Flood by Mark Olson and Gary Louris, which I guess, according to Amazon.com, is due out tomorrow. Remember: You heard it first here. Action Bob Markle at the forefront of the music world.

Anyway, The Jayhawks, and all those bands that aren't around anymore like Uncle Tupelo and Whiskeytown seemed to get what Gram Parsons was trying to do with country music, that those stoned-out hippies in Laurel Canyon couldn't figure out. Country rhythms with mature, poetic lyrics and a few sophisticated key changes--not shit about my pickup truck or tractor or all those freakin' bar songs and workin' and payin' the bills.

It's just nice stuff. Like this song, Angelyne. Don't expect to get your socks blown off. Expect your foot to start tapping and the song to stay in your head for a couple of days. Isn't that really all it's supposed to do?




Here comes the weather
It's looking like another storm
If all desire
Would leave this tired boy alone

Hopes haunt me like ghosts
They point their fingers
Grass grows in the cracks
Wind makes me shiver

Angelyne, forgive me
We threw it all away
You could never stand living with a man
Who could only lead you half way to love

I tried to fake it
But you wouldn't play along
I watched you naked
Innocent and holding on

Snowflakes make your bones ache in the winter
Your face will not fade, it will just linger

Angelyne, forgive me
We threw it all away
You could never stand living with a man
Who could only lead you half way
Angelyne, forgive me
We threw it all away
I could never fit into your plans
I'm nobody's man

Don't you tell me how to live my life
Don't you tell me how to live my life

Angelyne, forgive me
We threw it all away
You could never stand living with a man
Who could only lead you half way
Angelyne, forgive me
We threw it all away
I could never fit into your plans
I'm nobody's man