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Saratoga Performing Arts Center, Saratoga, N.Y. July 29, 2001 By C. Bottomley Although stereotyped as unwashed and inebriated, Dave Matthews fans are probably the most discerning connoisseurs this side of Milan's famed La Scala theater. And their latest verdict is in: Their hero has disappointed them by going to Hollywood, teaming up with Michael Jackson collaborator Glen Ballard, and in a move that slights his bandmates' virtuosity, packing his latest album with pop-tastic nuggets. Watching the group's set at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center, however, it appeared that Matthews and Ballard had achieved something novel with songs like "So Right" and "What You Are": The DMB now have a knack for the funk. With a black-clad singer spurring his pals with dirty guitar riffs, their grooves were suture-tight. By contrast, an older song like "JTR" cried out for some electric Viagra. Cutting back on solos is a smart move. Violinist Boyd Tinsley and horn player Leroi Moore used to believe that less was indeed less, and their tendency to pile on the notes could turn entire shows into snooze-fests. Ballard's editorial razor blade has toughened them up. Tinsley used his violin to create ghostly effects, particularly the scraping Appalachian lament that opened "Bartender," while Moore turned the tune, the centerpiece of the bootlegged Lillywhite sessions, into something wonderfully delicate by piping a pennywhistle during the long outro. Matthews has even discovered himself as a singer. His sandpaper rasp ripped angrily through "Say Goodbye" and "Don't Drink the Water" where once he just sounded like the Cookie Monster, and the crowd responded as fanatically as they would for the instrumental flash of yore. Are the kids OK with DMB Mark Two? The teeming crowd hadn't made up their minds. Moore's pennywhistle baffled them, and the slow clap of tedium resounded in a forest of lifted lighters. Their patience was further tested when Dave turned "Angel," one of the weakest songs on Everyday, into a showcase for his trio of backing singers. The stink of cabaret cheese wafted by as one of his "lovely ladies" sang "I'm looking for my angel" and went through each member of the band hoping they would return her vocal caresses. All she got in return was instrumental bleats and fans heading for the merch stall. Approving roars were reserved for oldies like "Crush," Dave's stumbling answer to Procol Harum's "A Whiter Shade of Pale." There was no drinking on the lawn, but the crowd reeled around in various states of intoxication. And although Everyday's current hit ballad "The Space Between" sounds like it could soundtrack a Jerry Bruckheimer action film, it nevertheless inspired a mass sing-along. Matthews wants no one going home unhappy. He plays with a perennial cocked eyebrow, and his smart lyrics imply he's more of a joker than he lets on, so the show wrapped with a solo rendition of Phish's "Waste" and perennial favorite "Two Step." With Tinsley plucking his violin and the leader strumming his guitar, the Eastern-flavored thrash could have gone on forever, even with the band punctuating the mantra with its trademark rhythmic shifts. Repetition, electric guitars, Eastern influences, tonal sleight of hand, confronting success - I had always thought the DMB were the descendants of the Grateful Dead. But the truth gradually dawned over the drone. Could DMB be the American equivalent of Krautrockers Can? His audience may never know. |
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