I’ve lived in New York City for nearly 14 years and, in that
time, never once have my feet set foot in Joe’s Pub on Lafayette Street in Manhattan. An intimate
(read small) room located in the newly refurbished space that is The Public
Theater. Came close a few times but never pulled the trigger. The combined threat of a
multi drink minimums, shared tables and the hefty pretentiousness carried by the
“I should be up on that stage” wait staff was always enough to ward off any
interest.
However, the long cold lonely war between Joe’s Pub and me
paused on a fittingly frozen, single degree-day last Wednesday. The reason for this armistice that found me being shown to my seat at
a table of four where my one guest and I were to eventually be squeezed in with two other strangers was the ever respectful and hopeful talent, Doug Paisley.
Mr. Paisley is a singer-songwriter out of Toronto (that’s in
Canada) who plays country tinged pop that your folks (regardless of your age)
would even enjoy. Consistently melodic, well-written, handcrafted songs without
any rough edges or left turns in sight. Thoughtful, lovelorn poetic verses and
choruses sung by a road weary yet smooth voice that is as radio-ready for adult
contemporary situations as any I’ve heard live on a stage. Mr. Paisley and his
three accompanying band members on bass, drums and piano sounded like an
alternate universe Wilco in which things had broken Jay Bennett’s way. A Jeff
Tweedy-like voice orchestrated by a country purist with the requisite piano
flourishes, tasteful/careful guitar solos and traditional arrangements.
Mr. Paisley’s new album Strong Feelings is an album that
any major label would have gladly released without hesitation. To extend the Wilco reference, an anti-Yankee
Hotel Foxtrot if you will. Yet, Doug Paisley is whiling away in obscurity
putting out his wears, steeped in country, folk and pop traditions, on a small
Astoria, Queens based label, No Quarter Records. While his sound is tailor made
for wide appeal and wide audience members of middle everything (age, America
and the road), he has now written and recorded three full length albums and one
ep for an independent label to be sold at independent record stores to
independent music buyers.
Mr. Paisley makes one wonder what is independent music at
this point in time. His songs could be polished into stellar bank and/or car
commercials. Perfect background mood music to be played under narration about
gas mileage or as the aural centerpiece while a silent short story plays out
about young love and what the future holds and how Chase Bank can help you get
there. In fact, Mr. Paisley weaves such catchy songs, consummate professionals
like Garth Hudson of The Band and recent indie darling turned crossover pop
star, Leslie Feist, have played alongside him or at least on his records. This
being a fact that came across quite clearly at his recent Joe’s Pub
performance.
While enjoying my mandatory over-priced and under-sized
drinks in the newly refurbished room which still kept it’s pre-facelift dark and
dank atmosphere, Mr. Paisley played with a band that he didn’t seem to know all
that well and could best be described as hired guns. Having seen Mr. Paisley
play a couple times before as a solo act with just his guitar and a microphone,
this extra sound was both a special occasion and a rare treat. However, as
professional and rounded out the band made his overall sound, it still wasn’t the
records whose amazing organ swirls, occasional horns and complimentary female
vocals were the little touches that gave his songs that extra lift to another
level. While he struggled to hit the high notes of the chorus in the song “No One But You” on stage, it didn’t matter because perfection wasn’t what his live
show was about. Already gone were the excess layers of sounds that were like
the proverbial oasis in an otherwise sandy and never ending expanse of desert,
which is what his stripped down songs sometimes threatened to dry up into.
Luckily, this was just a threat and not a reality as the hour long set was not
allowed to become too overlong as Joe’s Pub had another group of people who had
sworn an oath of mandatory thirst before being able to buy tickets for a later show that same night by another performer.
Scanning the audience whom Mr. Paisley was able to pull off
the streets of New York City on a weekday night to watch him play 13 of his
songs, the range was impressive. The majority mostly bearded, post-college aged young men
who likely spend their time in northern Brooklyn mixed together with Upper West Side middle
aged couples with grey hair and/or balding patterns who are teetering on the edge
of grandparenthood with touches of basically every other group in between. A
sign of the confusion that Mr. Paisley’s music brings to No Quarter Records’
marketing department. A sound that could definitely be playing in your father’s
Oldsmobile while still unknown enough and on a label obscure enough that it’s
also being played on a few Beats by Dre headphones on the L train during the
morning commute.
One of the highlights of a show filled with a baker’s dozen
songs of softly sung vocals over medium-paced, country-based music was the in
between song banter. Mr. Paisley felt the need to speak before most songs in an
off the cuff manner. This habit most likely the result of his usual arrangement
of lone man on stage with an “ever in need of tuning” guitar. Up front, he
stated that his goal was not to repeat himself nightly with the same stories
and jokes inspired by his own disappointment over repeated conversation at one of his country heroes', George
Jones, concerts years ago. Thankfully, this concept proved to be a stream of
consciousness window into Mr. Paisley’s mind in a way the music could not
penetrate. Through thoughts that involved stories about glowing neon pharmacy
signs, destination funerals and unending fields of grass, it became obvious
there was an artists’ brain in that head. An inquisitive, wandering mind that
had trouble being reined in enough to finish each thought his mouth was
vocalizing. He even introduced his last song of the night by describing how he
loved New York, thought it magical and how it had a strange effect on him.
While not an original thought, it was the right time and place to wax poetic
about the communal surroundings of everyone in the room. It was a sentiment
that put the audience in the right mood for his final performance
of the night.
Doug Paisley is a genuine performer. His music is an honest
reaction to the world around him and an attempt to figure out his place in it.
He is following his true path in life and his creative output is 100% his
personal vision which is a rarity. In one of his between song exchanges, an
audience member coerced him to speak about his new record. His response boiled
down to “I worked hard on this album and I’m proud of it.”. A statement that illustrates he's either too stereotypically Canadian for his own good or maybe he's just a
heart-on-sleeve, honest person. Either way, Mr. Paisley is the real deal.
After signing my credit card receipt for the mandatory
consumption deemed necessary by Joe’s Pub, I realized that signature was the
revoking of the previously mentioned armistice. Both feet now solidly back on the
neutral ground of the city, I swore my cold war was back on with Joe’s Pub, not
to be broken again until another artist makes the thought of that small, dark
cave worth all the hassle. Walking back to the subway, with lungs full of cold
air and the memories of 13 songs in my head, I wondered what it was that Doug
Paisley had in common with his label mates like the amplified smokers The Psychic Paramount, the avant strings of Burning Star Core or the tribal and
very foreign atmospherics of Coconuts. What I just witnessed was an artist just
as motivated by his love for music as his niche leaning label contemporaries;
it’s just that his natural output is one meant for a wider audience. Much wider
than the culture that it currently resides that usually demands a
membership card to allow access. Mr. Paisley has the talent and now he just
needs the lucky break. Until that point, he will continue to be a man living in two
different worlds coping with both the benefits and the liabilities of that reality.
