Love is hell
Lucinda Williams at the Ventura Theater
By Brett Leigh Dicks 11/26/2008
“You can’t please all of the people all of the time,” mused Lucinda Williams from the stage of the Ventura Theater last week. Not that the singer-songwriter from Louisiana has ever tried to please everyone. In the hallowed realm of Americana, Williams has long been a staunch individualist. Sometimes the pendulum of commercial success has swung in her favor and sometimes it hasn’t. But that has always been a reflection of the music industry’s shortcomings, not hers.
So it was only fitting that Williams should stroll onto the stage sans backing band to open the night’s proceedings. Armed with an acoustic guitar and a songbook that has spanned some three decades and 10 albums, Williams reached back to her 1988 self-titled release and strummed her way through “Passionate Kisses.” While Mary Chapin Carpenter might have garnered Williams a Grammy for the song, tonight’s introduction proved that not even a Grammy compares to the rasping yearning injected by the composer.
As her backing band ambled on stage to join her, the theme of requited love was carried through to the evening’s next offering. But, for “Real Love,” the sparse acoustics were replaced by driving guitar-laden rhetoric from a four-piece ensemble collectively known as Buick 6. As drums pounded and guitars growled, Williams swayed at the microphone expelling the sentiments of the song with a laconic affirmation.
For a musician whose songwriting is so confident and forthright, there is an elegant awkwardness to William’s stage presence. But she has never been about airs and graces, or pretenses for that matter. Her songs don’t dance around the issues; they cut straight to the point. And nowhere is that more evident than when she croons about love. For Williams, love is a living, breathing state of being that can just as easily summon beads of sweat as it does tears.
While the swirling keyboards and chiming guitars of “Something About What Happens When We Talk” and “West” summoned sweet laments pondering the possibility of love, “Jailhouse Tears” took the audience to the hilarious extremes of love gone sour. With guitarist Doug Pettibone taking the roll of “the dog,” the pair embraced the roles of a couple of lowbrow misfits before letting the accusations fly. Not only is the song a standout track on the new album, it was also one of the evening’s highlights.
As Williams drawled her way across the verses, blasts of snare drum and an aching bass line provided a haunting rhythm through which Pettibone weaved his hallowed guitar. The song’s inherent beauty resides in its unnerving darkness and proves that, along the trails of life, it is often the shadows that can be the most illuminating.
In closing her set with the countrified rap of “Righteously,” Williams returned for an encore that included Buffalo Springfield’s “For What It’s Worth” and AC/DC’s “It’s A Long Way To The Top (If You Wanna Rock ‘n’ Roll).” But in an evening that ebbed and flowed upon an emotional sea of carnal continence, it was a locally inspired tale that resonated most strongly with those assembled.
As the opening bars of “Ventura” from World Without Tears rang out and across the room, a howling response was quickly elicited. And when Williams coyly offered “Drive up the coastline, maybe to Ventura,” the howls morphed into rapture. Ventura has long been a frequent port of call for Williams, but her affinity with the place is clearly the result of more than a song.
There is a frank openness to Lucinda Williams that not everyone appreciates. However, the ovation she received proved that Ventura clearly does. Sure, it is often said that you can’t please all of the people all of the time. But on Wednesday night, Lucinda Williams came pretty damn close to proving everybody wrong – even herself.
E-mail Brett Leigh Dicks at brett_leigh_dicks@yahoo.com
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