The purpose of a lot of band’s tours is to promote the new album. But I can’t imagine many being so thorough about it than the Bottle Rockets, who played all 11 tracks of their new Bloodshot Records release, South Broadway Athletic Club in order during their fine show Monday at Gypsy Sally’s in Washington, D.C.
Frontman Brian Henneman even called out between songs, “On to No. 6!” He even indicated the point at which the vinyl should be flipped over—and brought more vinyl than CDs to sell of the title that’s been doing better for the 20-year-old band than the 11 before it. The good news is that the album is as full of solid, simple songs as anything since their early days. Their “Dog,” so simple it’s almost like a Zen koan or at least a Ramones song: “I love my dog/ He’s my dog/ If you don’t love my dog, that’s OK/ I don’t want you to/ He’s my dog.”
It was good to see the solid four-piece from St. Louis headlining on their own—most local shows have them opening for and then backing Marshall Crenshaw (and indeed they’ll be returning in a couple of months with just that format). And the quality of South Broadway, the first album they recorded entirely in St. Louis in years, and with longtime producer Eric Roscoe Ambel meant that pushing the new product so hard wasn’t an unpleasant prospect.
A lot of the new songs, from “Building Chryslers” to “Shape of a Wheel” reflect the best of what they’ve done, translating working class frustrations and passions through loud, stomping guitar rock. The country edges are in there somewhere, mostly in Henneman’s harmonies with bassist Keith Voegele. Musically, they could be any great garage band in the past several decades, with Mark Ortmann solid on the drums and John Horton’s guitar adding tasty and often stinging solos to accompany Henneman’s own talents on the instrument.
It was Henneman’s purchase of a new Rickenbacker that could have inspired the whole record. Henneman played two, a six-string sunburst and a black 12-string. And Voegele joined the cult with the deep sounding electric Rickenbacker bass. (Horton stayed with the Fender). Still, that allowed for some variation in approach. He wrote “XOYOU” after a Tom Jones binge; the soulful licks on “Ship It On the Frisco” had a more laid back approach amid others that just stepped on the gas and roared.
Hennemann was happy he could play its kickoff track “Monday (Everytime I Turn Around)” on an actual Monday (he didn’t seem aware it was actually also a holiday, but didn’t have any Columbus Day songs to play). The album showcase still left room for a lot of the favorites, from “Radar Gun,” “Hard Times,” and “Smoking 100s Alone” at the start of the show to the capper of “I’ll Be Comin’ Around,” “1000 Dollar Car,” “Indianapolis,” and “Welfare Music” at the end.
When someone tried to make an October-ball hometown connection from the audience, “How ‘bout them Cards?” (when they were still in it), Henneman was blunt. “Who cares? We all got into bands because we hated sports.” Despite the full embrace of Rickenbackers, the band didn’t pay homage to the Byrds, who pretty much owned the territory in American rock ’n’ roll, but they did close with a great Tom Petty cover that justified all the jangle, “Listen to Her Heart.”
It was a bonus to have Mark Olson open the show. The sometime-member of The Jayhawks who has done a lot of work on his own and with the Creekdippers, now finds himself in a husband-wife duo with Ingunn Ringvold (“She’s from Norway!” he said more than once). They may make an odd pair on stage, looking like one of those religious song duos from Saturday Night Live (except Ringvold looks more like Catherine O’Hara, so maybe an SCTV sketch or something out of A Mighty Wind). But she lends good harmonies to the couple of Jayhawks songs in the set, which included “Blue” and “Over My Shoulder.”
But then they switch things up and she plays a dulcimer like thing called a qanon as he adds percussion on an African djembe in a world music excursion straight outta Josuha Tree. With his headband and her curls, they pretty much embodied the club’s trademark Gypsy Sally poster behind them on stage.
