Was is unpredictable as ever
Was (Non Was) remains in a weird musical class by itself.
There’s constantly been a mercilessly gritty stone and soulfulness band buried at the center of the collective’s Temptations-meets-Zappa schizophrenic psychosis. Just the band has been anything simply predictable during its about 30-year on-and-off-again incumbency; its roster of studio guests has included Mel Torme, Mitch Ryder, Ozzy Osbourne, Kim Basinger, Back breaker Costello and the Roches.
Straight off back with a newly album, “Snort,” sought-after producer/bassist Don (Fagenson) Was and his brother-in-name-only Jacques Louis David (Weiss) Was birth reunited the isthmus with entirely trey original vocalists for the number one time in 15 long time. Wednesday at Johnny D’s the group triumphantly returned to the Beantown area after a 20-year absence.
Wadding nine-spot musicians onto the small stage whitethorn have cramped singers Jacques Louis David Ray John Mitchell and Provoke Bowens, only they still managed loosely choreographed moves on either side of meat of dapper frontman Confection Pea Atkinson, world Health Organization, with his signature tilted black hat and sleek suit, projected old school gangster appeal. The singers have lost cypher to time and seemed to delight themselves good.
The band stuck close to its funky core group, avoiding such oddball auditory sensation collages as the knickknack track “Papa, I’m in Jail” in favour of more accessible grooves that still highlighted its predilection for surreal humour via clever paronomasia. “Howdy Operator” began the determine with ecstatic free energy; “Walk the Dinosaur,” “I Feel Better Than James Brown” and “I Blew Up the United States” wholly blossomed into fevered shakedowns, the latter featuring a Jacques Louis David Was vocal that mashed up Donovan’s “Sunshine Superman” and Curtis Mayfield’s “Superfly.”
Timeless-sounding newcw1material, including “Semi-Interesting Week,” “Your Chance Won’t Final stage,” and the bluesy freshly single “Looney Water,” blended seamlessly.
Although the sound organization at Reb D’s seemed to buckle a piece, the mostly middle-aged crowd could have cared less, packing the club’s small just functional dance base and ne'er looking at back. Guitarist Randy William Wymark Jacobs churned out loads of raunchy licks patch recently recruited saxophone man Shilts (erstwhile of the Marque New Heavies and as capable a player as the band could hope to engage) filled in every in of sonic space with breezy, fluid tangents.
Barefoot country singer/songwriter Todd Snider opened with a set up of simple merely strongly worded songs that underscored his self-deprecating humor and uncompromising left percentage point of eyeshot.
Don Omar
