The Felice Brothers – Hare & Hounds, Kings Heath, Birmingham – 5th November 2024
US election night, 5/11/24, bonfire sadly unused.
Feeling there enough potential fireworks likely to pop on the other side of the pond, the opportunity to catch these celebrated Catskillbillies proved a much better bet than getting depressed in front of a TV full of political pundits. And was, all in all, an excellent choice. And I hope it was, too, for the band, who seemed gratified by a welcoming and sold out room.
Anthony D’Amato up first
Up first, and with a glitch in the advertised timings, came an acoustic set from Anthony D’Amato, meaning I only got to catch four or five of his well-hewn songs. Shaggy of hair and beard, he was an engaging presence, thrashing away on his acoustic, with a harmonica in the traditional harp rack, beloved of all dusty troubadours of his ilk. With a pleasing voice, the songs contained wit, pathos and melodies in abundance, a slower track, drenched in echo, showing he more than a one-trick pony. Apologising for the lack of band, he even got the crowd to provide necessary bvs, they proving only too willing. Making many friends this night, I am sure he is one to watch.
shabby chic spectacle
A short gap enabled the audience to chat with their neighbours; it seemed many were veteran Felice watchers, the fella next to me having been to all preceding dates this tour, with plans to continue his odysssey further. A decent range of ages were also represented, if with a preponderance toward the grizzled lone groover mould. (Hi!) Shortly after 9 on came the band. Or rather, through came the band, they squeezing through the huddled masses at the front; it’s that sort of venue. Resplendent each in suits of differing primary colours, they made for quite the spectacle, chic yet shabby, shabby and chic. Marvellous.
The two brothers still in the band, Ian, guitar and vocals, and James, accordion, keyboard and vocals, are a contrasting pair: Ian is whip thin and slightly shop-worn, whereas James is burly and full of bonhomie. Joined by Jesske Hume, on bass, and William Lawrence, on drums, each longterm and established “brothers”, over recent years they have enabled the slight ramshackle feel of early releases to carry a much tighter basis. (Here’s what we had to say about a recent release, if not their last).
First song was the accordion and guitar driven Wonderful Life, from their eponymous album of 2008, likely where most present will have first heard of them. It is fair to say the sound started murky and muddy, with insufficient squeezebox or of Ian’s vocal, but muscle memory picked up the slack, sufficient for recognition. Over the next two or three songs the sound balance gradually found it’s feet, if never quite finding pristine purity.
perpetual bemusement
Relaxing into the vibe, only now did Ian and James begin to engage the audience, enquiring around everyone’s health. Ian has an air of perpetual bemusement, as if uncertain how or why he has got to be here, James just enjoying every darn second. Whilst much of the repartee was lost in the mumble of translation, as they speak like they sing, a comment around how many British cities had appropriated American names went down well in this not Alabama audience. Another newer song, Crime Scene Queen, went down particularly well, the balance on the keys now allowing all the tinkling garnishes to break through.
Songs were spread well through their catalogue, with the three from Abandoned Songs topped only by four from Dreams To Dust, with one or two clocking up from all their other releases. A quieter moment came with the semi-spoken Valium, a slow drum beat evoking the mood of the sedative, and the sensation of the whole room gently swaying, foot to foot, gave a feel of being at sea. But the drug of choice was simpler fare, the band not unafraid of putting forward their fondness for Guinness, with one of the audience duly providing a couple of pints. Being a democratic band, this the brothers then shared these equally with their cohorts.
With the central part of the show set in slow and maudlin, a further highpoint came with a deeply melancholy It’s Midnight And The Doves Are In Tears. Knowing the mood would have to lift from there, Teeth In The Tabloids was then a suitably raw put down of the American Dream (and a further mention of the unfolding shitstorm stateside.)
a terrific night
Mindful that the evening was drawing on, Ian warned there were just a few songs left, with the superbly titled Love Me Tenderly the first up, another trademark spit’n’sawdust half-speed hoedown. During this, James provided some lovely bathtub cocktail piano lines, the audience now up and ready for a singalong.
A couple more and it was time to accept there was no way the quartet would or even could get off the stage to then get back straight on again, this a point wryly acknowledged from the stage, leaving with their best known song, Frankie’s Gun. A terrific song, and enough to guarantee their legacy, were there not also a chipped kitchen dresser full of others near up to the same standard. A lax and loose song at the best of times, tonight it was as raggedy as can be, and as was certainly desired, yet, on reference with the original, still a more solid scaffold than perhaps the band used previously to be able to muster live.
A terrific end, with any grumbles about the sound largely, if not totally, forgiven. Sort of means having to give them another go, next time around, a thought both enticing and appealing.
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