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Duck Weather
3-20-00
(printed in C-Ville Weekly Vol.12, No.13)

Regan - Buzby - Dude gets his -Terri Allard

"If you can't say anything good about someone, sit right here by me."
-Alice Roosevelt Longworth
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True to legend, few things are finer to we ducks than palm fronds, small aquatic lifeforms and rainy crappo weather. As I sit here, Charlottesville is enjoying its final regurgitory winter relapse, and I gotta say, I love it. People were strolling around in the sunshine a few days back with smiles as big as their heads, talking about how spring is sprung and how it's a good day for cold beer. But the Duck knew. Winter, having loafed through a rather mild three months, would press its miserable buttocks back down upon the fresh blossoms of our hillbound burg before finally loping away. It does this every year.

Friday, 3-17-00 -- The spring break vacuum that decended on the U.Va Corner threw me off. I was bored. B.O.R.E.D. bored. Whew! Was I bored. Everywhere I went: bored people. Drab strangers sipping unquenchably in vapid espressotoriums, pretending to read. Boredom uber alles.

It was St. Patrick's Day, which means you can get drunk as hell if you want. People were. I was afraid of them, so I sought refuge at Trax. Buzby had blown into town from... town, and since they've managed to make a stir, I figured I needed to check them out.

Regan opened the show with her two-man acoustic band: a bass player and a guitarist/mandolinist who sang super-sweet harmonies. The sound was messed up, but they were nice. Good nice.

After them Buzby played for the small crowd. This obviously wasn't the St. Paddy's Day crowd-- no one was fighting or throwing up. It was a pretty mellow scene with alot of family-looking types. Nobody danced. It's hard to dance at Trax with less than 100 people in attendance: the place doesn't really warm up until you get over 400. I guess that's one reason why people bitch about it. Another reason might be (I hate to say this) the fact that a certain sound technician, we'll call him Dude, totally sucks. There, I've said it. It's over.

No, it's not over. I pass myself off as a critic, so here's some wonton criticism: the only band I've heard Dude make sound good is Devon and Dr. Bindu, and I think that's only because he was involved in some special ass-kissing, er... project involving that band that required him to concentrate really hard on what was happening. Not only that, but one time I saw him cut back into a party circle so he could hit the joint more than once in a round! Uncool! FIRE HIM!

Sorry, Dude, but you gotta wake up. Very little of Buzby was coming through the main speakers ("the mains")-- just the vocals (muddy) and the kick drum. The bass player was doing all kinds of freaky right hand hammer-on chords-- heavy-duty stuff-- but you couldn't hear it in the house. No snare drum, no toms-- where the hell is that Dude? FIRE HIM NOW!

Buzby is sort of a good-times 'n lovin' band with aspirations to the heavy jam. They play a somewhat poppy variation on psychedelic rock and support a qualified crew including a vocalist so cute she's almost edible. They may well be able to crank it out, but between the crappy sound and low turn-out, Friday was not the best opportunity to hear it.

merry terri
Saturday, March 20, 2000 --
Terri Allard drew a nice crowd for a night of tunes at Old Cabell Hall. The grand old room is, undoubtedtly, the ultimate playground for serious local talent. It sports the nicest acoustics in town, with its Roman theater layout and massive pipe organ, and it just feels... classy. Kind of like a cathedral of entertainment.

Terri's record label, Reckless Abandon, booked Old Cabell as a special treat for her devoted fans, and they eagerly filled the place. Booze was served in the lobby-- something I'd never seen before. I'd always thought that libations were forbidden "on grounds." Guess not. Terri brought a simple acoustic combo with her: Sonny Layne on bass and vocals, Donna Hamilton on vocals and percussion and Aaron Evans (of '80's mushroom rock demi-gods: Indecision) on lead guitar. Nothin' fancy, just the real goods.

Terri refers to what she does as "folk-singing," -- alot of people around here do that. I always thought "folk" was what college kids sang in the 1960's, you know: auto harp music. "Put your hand in the hand of the man from Galilee..." "You are my sunshine..." "He's got the whole world, in his hands..." Joan Baez, the Kingston Trio, Simon and Garfunkel, stuff like that.

Allard's brand of americana resembles acoustic alternative country music-- there's blues and sauce in there, and she mixes it up alot, but it definitely bears strong appalachian roots. Folks who like adult country music would probably love Terri Allard-- folks who like Bob Dylan might not be so enamored. Either way, she's a gifted writer and performer who brings alot of soul to her swaying porch-swing tunes, and she charmed the glowing audience with her usual warmth and informality. It's no small feat to build a strong folk following outside of Nashville, but Allard has proven that "steady as she goes" can and does make the grade.
-Cripsy Duck

Whole lotta weather we're having. Every day, more weather. cripsyduck@mindspring.com

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