Saturday, February 13, 2010
Van Dyke Parks at Swedish American Hall, SF 2.12.10
Van Dyke Parks is indisputably an American original. He is the ultimate quirky but scholarly piano nerd who mines all sorts of musical, social, and artistic by roads. He came to a kind of cult prominence during the singer-songwriter era. But how many singer-songwriters seem most comfortable performing with a modified chamber string section. His patter onstage is like no other. He moves around language, thoughts ideas in a kind of oblique fashion. For instance, he started talking about boy and the dolphin and it wasn't clear that he might be referring directly to the 1957 film but rather Greek legend and the wonder of creatures of ascension. But then he dropped that as a young man seeing Sophia Loren come out of the water in was a kind of ascension for him.
Parks seems to advocate for a kind of civility and discourse that left long ago. His sets are filled with references to riverboats, left wing politics back in the beat era, the forty years of Louis Moreau Gottschalk's life, FDR's visitation to Trinidad, Mark Twain, the B'rer Rabbit, and even a recitation of a Robert Frost poem he paid performance rights for.
And, if nothing more, for those who care about the rock and roll era, he will forever be a footnote, as the author of Sailin' Shoes, maybe the finest moment for Lowell George and Little Feat. And the lyricist for Smile, the lost for a very long time Beach Boys follow-up to Pet Sounds.
The Swedish American Hall in San Francisco's Castro district turned out to be a lovely place to see Parks perform. Like much of his subject matter, it is a throw back to another era constructed with big timbers and great care. The room seemed to warm up his music even more so. This evening was truly an evening of collaboration. The first half of the evening was a performance by Clare and the Reasons, lead by Clare Muldaur (daughter of Geoff, but, evidently not Maria) and her husband, classically trained violinist Olivier Manchon. They had their own kind of plucky chamber pop infused by Harry Nillson sensibilities. The Reasons also served as Parks' band for the evening, playing most of what can be found on his live Moonlighting album, which featured a much larger musical setting.
Parks was obviously charged by the crowd, the vibe, and the fine playing of Manchon and friends. He ebulliently flexed his muscle Charles Atlas style between songs when the group really nailed it. This was quite a jocular sight since Parks is a small round white headed man who has a copy of yellow pages to boost him on his piano bench. He seemed surprise that this was only the third performance with Manchon and friends. All indications were it was a musical collaboration that existed long before. But, then again, there it seems to point to a kind of timelessness and agelessness that goes beyond his 67 years on the planet that seems to be formed decades before his formidable ones.
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posted by well-executed buffet at 8:21 AM
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