Concert Review: Blanche @ Hill Auditorium

Gothic “ind-country” ghosts Blanche opened for Wilco Sunday night at Hill Auditorium in Ann Arbor. While the juxtaposition of one of alternative rock’s most genre-pushing rock bands and a group that looks and sounds like they’re from the dust bowl sounds a little broad, the two fit pretty well. Lead singer and guitarist Dan Miller (yes, yes “Goober!!!” I know…) looked October frightful with his shock of light-socket hair and deep-set eyes that hollowed out even deeper when the stage lights hit him from above. Bassist/vocalist Tracee Miller was resplendent (it’s a word…look it up) in some sort of “A Rose for Emily” Faulknerian wedding dress with her hair piled so high V2 must’ve hired an architect. Pedal steel/clarinet/melodica player Feeny had on one of his Dad’s old suits, drummer Lisa “Jaybird” Jannon wore a stone-faced expression, and Banjo/Autoharpist Little Jack “The Product” Lawrence wore what looked like the first Tuxedo ever invented. The reason that you’d need a description of the group (right down to their shoe sizes) is that the lace dresses and antique tie tacks are actually an integral part of their show.

In essence, Blanche plays barely electrified mountain music and while the songs themselves (poetical as they are) may not have the bombast of, say, the six-man aural assault of a Wilco, the band makes up for it with oddball mannerisms, a snake-handling mania, and a tense stage dynamic that augments their simple folk songs to high art. A guitarist I know called it one of the coolest art projects he’s ever seen, and he’s right: The songs, the costumes, the spooky stories, the elaborate (spectacular) website, right down to the fonts chosen on the CD packaging all roll into one big environment of mistrustful men and devout religions.

The show ran through a good sampling of the songs on their CD (“Who’s to Say,” “Do You Trust Me?” “Superstition,” “Bluebird,” “So Long Cruel World,” “Another Lost Summer,” “Jack on Fire,” “Garbage Picker”) plus a newish song about the world’s largest crucifix somewhere up North on 75. Throughout the show, Feeny comedically protested a couple of numbers, stormed offstage once, and told the audience to be “Quiet!” (at a point where the audience was already absolutely silent) sounding for all the world like a High-School principal. Jaybird Jannon kept an impassive face as she banged through a tom-heavy set, and Jack Lawrence performed his simple banjo parts with a minimum of movement and nary a screw-up.

While it seems at times that Feeny was (mock) battling wills with Dan for the direction of the group and the evening, it is really the powerful tension and attraction between Dan and Tracee Miller that creates the sparks onstage. Their longing looks and fawning eyelashes seem in part for the benefit of the audience, but still have a real spark of honest passion. (and it can’t hurt that Tracee is so eye-crushingly beautiful.) The show rounded out with a mournful October version of “Another Lost Summer” (appropriately seasonal), their crackshot cover of the Gun Club’s “Jack on Fire” and what has ended up being the highlight of any Blanche show: Lisa Jannon gets up from behind the drum kit and crouches at the front of the stage with an acoustic guitar, The banjo picks up a mournful roll, and Feeny and Miller start in on this creepy auctioneer/preacher/madman wailing sermon, railing against little Jailbird with a cadence and rhythm straight outta the Southern Baptist holy roller church. After a few moments of frantic sweating and teeth gnashing, Tracee’s voice soothes the two madmen and the whole group gathers together at the center of the stage for a moment of harmony in the brief song “Someday.” While this seems pretty overly dramatic for a rock band from Detroit, it is par for the course for Blanche, whose music moves beyond the raw chord changes to become an evening of highly entertaining theater, and I saw a lot of Blanche converts eagerly devouring their new CDs after their set.

Things I noticed:
Three carved pumpkins at the front of the stage, which must’ve been a Blanche touch.

Feeny’s pedal steel playing has become precise and lyrical (even more so than on the Loretta Lynn sessions), making him the best pedal steel player in the area. His playing completely replaces the need for obligatory rock guitar solos in their songs.

Tracee’s voice was pitch-perfect (one thing that I know had troubled the live show in the past). I noticed a wireless pack on the bustle of her dress (looking oddly like an electronic insect amid all that antique lace) with a cable coming up past her shoulders and under her hair which I’m speculating could be an in-ear vocal monitor. Regardless of how she got there, her quietly deep vocals sounded spot-on.

There was a weird rattling sound in the speakers when Jannon would hit the floor tom. A drummer speculated that it was the microphone resting on the shell and making that weird rattle travel through the PA. It was a little distracting (if you are a total geek).

Patch Boyle was nowhere to be seen, apparently replaced by Jack Lawrence. This is a little sad because I liked Patch’s roughshod banjar playing, but Lawrence played each note just right and the few times he played the bass, the whole band locked in really tightly, so I say he can stay.

There’s a weird point in any Blanche show during “Jack on Fire” when Tracee sings her only lines in the song:

Hoo, man, to hear somebody who’s dressed up like the jilted bride of some gothic Southern novel say that she’s gonna fuck you until you are dead… well, that usually sends quite a ripple through the audience. She’s a little spooky, so you think she might actually do it, and she’s so beautiful that you think you might not actually mind.

I’m pretty sure I saw Jack White, at which point I tittered like a schoolgirl.

- Zac Johnson was happy to have Dave Feeny produce the Porchsleeper record and hopes he’s not mad.