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11 November 2010
This is a difficult review to write without it reading like a long moan. So, I’ll start by saying how much I have liked The Felice Brothers’ music ever since I first heard Roll On Arte on an Americana-uk sampler a couple of years ago. Their CD output has pleased me enormously, too. Indeed, the opening line of Rockefeller Druglaw Blues – “the smoke from the prison van’s heading to heaven, but I’m heading for Attica” – is one of my favourites in recent years, a classic. The cracked, somewhat dishevelled feel to the CDs is appealing and always rewarding.
All in all then The Felice Brothers are a mighty fine band – but on this showing, it was hard to tell. The sound on the night was awful. None of the guile, warmth and verve of their albums got a chance to emerge in a sludge of noise. Now, I’m not someone who wants bands to turn up and repeat exactly what they play note for note on record – hey, I’ve been to Dylan and Ryan Adams’ gigs. But, the acoustics for this show were appalling. Not being a sound engineer, I can’t offer a solution to the problem. Were the band not aware of this, were the guys at the mixing desk happy with it, was the venue a contributory factor?
Plenty of us in the large audience stuck it out to the truly bitter end – but quite a few punters took fag breaks and didn’t fancy returning. It was a keenly-anticipated return to the city for the band. It would be great if they came back and we could hear them properly in all their glory.