Poor Man’s Whiskey | 01.11.08 | SF
By Team JamBase Jan 18, 2008 • 4:36 pm PST

Poor Man’s Whiskey :: 01.11.08 :: Great American Music Hall :: San Francisco, CA
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Ostensibly a string/bluegrass band, Poor Man’s Whiskey are really beautiful descendents of talented, demented hicks like Dr. Hook & The Medicine Show and the Sir Douglas Quintet. Sure there’s mandolin (Jason Beard), banjo (Josh Brough), fiddle (Chris Rovetti), acoustic guitar (Gary Neargarder) and dobro (Eli Jebidiah) up front but the whole shebang is fueled by the hard slappin’ rhythm section of Joshua Zucker (bass) and George Smeltz (drums). With this pair driving the backline, Poor Man’s hews closer to English folk-rock gems like Fairport Convention and Pentangle than Yonder Mountain or most contemporary string acts. As good as they’d been at past performances, this night exhibited a collective confidence that gave the music a breathless rush and smiling halo that was nigh impossible to resist. And shit howdy, why would you turn away from guys so obviously looking to plant a sonic kiss on your forehead?
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The evening began with a mood that suggested the Ozark Mountain Daredevils covering “Scarlet Begonias.” Within minutes one felt lifted up, jostled around in a cardboard biplane soaring over cornfields. There was little showy about their playing, and while the solos were darn good they seemed focused on serving the songs first and their egos second. It didn’t take long for their special guests to hop onboard, with The Waybacks‘ Warren Hood (fiddle, mandolin) and James Nash (guitar, mandolin) and Hot Buttered Rum‘s Nat Keefe (guitar) and Aaron Redner (fiddle) popping up like some hayseed Whack-a-Mole game all evening, often in a fresh outfit and always ready to lend a hand to the swaying voyage. Like PMW, these guests played expertly but rarely drew undue attention, throwing their imagination behind the material in a generous, buoyant display. It’s REALLY easy to over-pick. Bluegrass is a naturally exhibitionist genre but something about the greasepaint and floppy hats seemed to circumvent many of the usual string band clichés.
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The music kept growing and shifting in an engaging way but there was also the sheer brain itching spectacle of the Tin Man fiddling like a maniac or the Scarecrow abusing a banjo while singing words that are integral and hugely personal to several generations. One felt caught up in a Technicolor live action version of those old black and white Fleischer cartoons, the ones where furniture dances a jig, fruit talks back to you and animals are anything but domesticated. It was wondrously strange, and though relatively clear headed, it made me think Dark Side of the Moonshine could be an ideal setting to revive the Merry Prankster’s Acid Tests. Oh where is the 21st century Stanley Owsley?
The non-Floyd sets rambled through Merle Travis style country, Pogues level glass lifters, quietly sophisticated hot jazz and a lot more. Their slippery genre sensibility operated not just tune-to-tune but within each piece. A jittery restlessness flowed like ground water beneath their playing, the radio dial inside their heads twisting through frequencies with alarming speed. It’s fun as hell and you rarely knew where they were taking you. Poor Man’s Whiskey has found a niche for themselves in a field that’s often painfully samey, and if they keep coming up with hugely entertaining ideas like this performance then their audience is going to be more than Munchkin sized before long.
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