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The White Album: A Review of un-Beatles
John Lennon still gives Jesus a run for his money. According to a volunteer at the University Baptist Church last Friday, only one or two religious services have similarly packed the pews.
By the time Austinist arrived, music worshippers were lined up around the block to catch a live performance of the Beatles' White Album of 1968, whose songs around 30 local vocalists and musicians had been invited to cover. The seating was shoulder-to-shoulder, with the air conditioning clearly praying for a refresher course. This had better be good, we thought. And, for the most part, it was.
The program started a bit sedately. While the familiar hum of a jetliner cruising beneath the music on "Back in the USSR" was right on target, the fade-in, rock-n-roll excitement of Beach Boy-ish guitar licks was, surprisingly, not nailed by the musicians on stage. Happily, though, the evening gained momentum. A major highlight was the sheer diversity of voices; Austin doesn't like canned pop – and how! The female sirens particularly shined, with voices sweet and low. (Not quite Nina Simone low, but close.) Libby Kirkpatrick covered "Julia" so well that we heard old lyrics anew: "When I cannot sing my heart, I can only speak my mind." And isn't that the way of it, lovers?
Singer Wendy Collona dug deep with her lush performance of "I'm So Tired". Carolyn Wonderland jammed like lightning on " Revolution 1", and our roommate likened her electricity to that of Janis Joplin. Abra Moore, sensation of yesteryear, also seemed to be a hit with her rendition of "Blackbird".
The menfolk had a bit more trouble on the mike, perhaps because they had to stretch further vocally and creatively to outshine – or merely rival – the four boys from Liverpool. One exception was Gary Clark, Jr., who absolutely killed "While My Guitar Gently Weeps". Instead of mimicking the grave sweetness of the original composition, he ditched quietude and went for juice. The chancetaking earned him a partial standing ovation from the audience.
Bob Livingston's solid interpretation of “Piggies” was augmented by Charles Beard’s light show, which projected images of the political upheaval of the 1960’s onto the pulpit’s organ pipes, a juxtaposition the Beatles themselves might have appreciated (though the light play more frequently offered a colorful, psychedelic backdrop throughout the evening).
David Hess' performance of "Long, Long, Long" apparently lent new meaning to the song, but Austinist…Austinist was visiting the restroom as he sang. Another man who went unheard: Jimmy Dale Gilmore. Owing to frog-in-the-throatitis, he wasn't able to take "Dear Prudence" on.
But heroes did show up, and their name was Strings Attached. A local musical ensemble, they played consistently behind nearly every number, backing singers whose styles varied wildly, and dealing well with last-minute lineup shuffles. They also recalled to the audience the quasi-orchestral complexity of The White Album, never more so than on their rendition of "Revolution #9". The piece was turbulent but, as on the album itself, resolved so peaceably: each of the dozens of performers who did their duty on stage that evening gathered 'round the players to sing "Goodnight" to everyone.
You can order a CD of this live performance here.
Beatles photo courtesy of Library of Congress
