A Night of Music in the Midwest
A night of music in the midwest
Written and narrated by: Glenn Vanderkloet
Tunes in this episode:
Hazlehurst - Pale Cricket
The Darker Side of Me - Otis Gibbs
Play A Train Song - Todd Snider
A Night of Music in the Midwest
Grand Rapids, Michigan. A city of almost 200,000 people in the western portion of the “Great Lakes State” and known for its office furniture manufacturing industry, its surplus of breweries, and for being the childhood home of former president Gerald Ford. The small midwestern city also gets a shitload of snow, around 80 inches per year, and the Meijer supermarket chain began operations on the outskirts of town in 1934. Because it is sandwiched between the much larger and more culturally vibrant cities of Detroit and Chicago, one thing Grand Rapids is not known for is its live music scene. However, on a recent unseasonably warm and windy evening in November, the city played host to a couple of American originals and folk troubadours, Otis Gibbs and Todd Snider. The touring duo did not play Detroit on this particular run of shows so the five hour drive to Grand Rapids was the closest they were getting to my Southwestern Ontario home. But I wasn’t going to be deterred. I’ve wanted to see Snider and his unique brand of weed inflected folk music for a long time and when I found out that Gibbs was opening the show, my decision was made. My partner and I each packed an overnight bag and hit the highway.
Throughout my twenties and into my early thirties, live music was a constant in my life. I’ve never crunched the numbers but in that decade plus, I probably attended roughly thirty shows a year. I understand this is small potatoes for you jam band enthusiasts out there who have attended thousands of concerts but two or three shows a month for years on end is still a good amount in my book. I loved everything about the live music experience. The drive to the venue anticipating the event. Stepping inside concert halls, theaters, and dive bars that were steeped in history. The pre-show drinks or joints that made everything a bit more magical. And the best part, the moment the lights dimmed and the band or artist emerged from backstage. Granted, some shows were better than others depending on the mood of the band or the vibe of the crowd but generally, you could always bet on a memorable night out. This is why it pains me to say that my enthusiasm for attending shows has waned significantly in the last half decade or so. Why is that you might ask? Well, I’m not certain I know. There is the theory that once we hit thirty, our interest in new music begins to fade. I suppose that argument could apply to one’s interest in live music too. There is also the fact that I don’t drink or smoke much pot anymore so that could play a part in my lack of enthusiasm as well. But who am I trying to fool? I’m simply getting older and lazier and my irritability in crowds has ratcheted up a shade since the halcyon days of my youth. God, that all sounds so depressing and predictable. Regardless, The Grand Rapids show was an attempt to get back to my fun and spontaneous self and to ward off the threat of becoming boring, aged, and stagnant.
The Intersection in downtown Grand Rapids has been around since 1972. It bills itself as West Michigan’s Live Music Legend and it more or less lives up to the billing. It’s a pretty standard music hall with a capacity of 1500 people that feels slightly less lived in than other similar venues I’ve been to such as Nashville’s Exit In or Athens, Georgia’s 40 Watt Club. And by less lived in, I mean that the bathrooms are surprisingly clean and free of graffiti and the floor doesn’t feel like it was waxed with maple syrup. This isn’t a good thing by the way. I happen to like my venues a little on the scuzzy side. Nevertheless, it’s a good sounding and spacious room to watch a show.
A little after 8pm, Mr. Gibbs took the stage to a good sized, if not sold out crowd. It was just him, his gruff, emotive vocals, and a beautiful sounding acoustic guitar. I’m pretty sure it was a Martin dreadnought but my knowledge of musical gear is severely lacking. Whatever it was, it sounded rich and resonant and complimented his voice nicely.
The term Americana gets tossed around liberally in music circles to describe various types of roots and traditional music but to me, Gibbs’ sound fits the Americana label better than most styles that lay claim to that descriptor. His setlist included songs about small town life, undervalued yet noteworthy Americans like Sputnik Monroe, U.S. geography, with several of his songs name dropping towns and cities across the country, and roadside attractions like in the song “Great American Roadside.” Ironically, he is arguably more celebrated in Western Europe than in the country he sings about most often but judging by how often he tours places like Holland and the UK, I think that’s fine by him.
In between songs, Otis has a penchant to regale the audience with stories and jokes, a folk tradition that has lost steam in recent years, so it was refreshing to hear Otis make a genuine attempt to connect with the crowd via his natural storytelling acumen. And he succeeded in spades, garnering a standing ovation after a short but satisfying performance.
Next up was Snider who looked every bit the road warrior he has been for most of his career. Grand Rapids was the last show of a lengthy run before a short break so Todd looked thin and tired but his enthusiasm on stage belied his appearance. He played for nearly two hours and glided through a set of close to 30 songs which included personal favorites of mine like “Play a Train Song” and “I Can’t Complain.” Like Gibbs before him, Snider was aided only by an acoustic guitar and harmonica and also like Gibbs, told a few very funny and touching stories about his career and some of his mentors.
Snider got his start in the Austin area under the tutelage of Kent Finlay who introduced him to the songs of Kris Kristofferson, Guy Clark, and John Prine among others. He studied these influences and began crafting his own songs in a similar but distinct style. Before long, he was drawing enthusiastic crowds in San Marcos and later, Austin.
Over the years, Todd has made his home in other music centric locales such as Memphis and East Nashville while continuing to build one of the most original catalogs of folk music in the business. To call him a cult artist would be selling him short in my opinion but he’s not mainstream either. You might call him your favorite songwriter’s songwriter. An elder statesman of sorts in the folk community. Whatever label you want to attach, Snider is a one of a kind songwriter who has gained massive respect in the industry as a kind, funny, and supremely talented writer and musician.
I mentioned off the top that I don't attend many live shows anymore but there are still certain artists that will draw me out of my darkened cave. Todd and Otis are two of these artists. Not only are they terrific songsmiths but perhaps even more importantly, they’re good humans. I know this because in addition to writing songs, Otis runs a YouTube channel where he talks to musician friends of his who have some entertaining stories about their lives playing music professionally. In addition to these interview segments, Otis uploads a video stream every Saturday morning where he drinks coffee with his YouTube followers and tells personal tales about his experience living a songwriter’s life. The guy is as humble and genuinely nice as anyone I’ve encountered and I recommend watching a video or two of his and seeing if it’s something you’d dig. I know I do. As far as Todd is concerned, he mentors younger songwriters just as he was mentored by legends like Jerry Jeff Walker, Guy Clark, and John Prine and they all speak glowingly of his generosity and kindness. There are a number of firsthand accounts from the likes of Jason Isbell and Elizabeth Cook detailing Todd’s positive impact on them and the larger music community.
The thing about attending concerts headlined by gracious musicians who give a shit about other people is that they tend to attract an audience of the same ilk. And when a bunch of decent cats congregate in a room for a night of live music, it can be a cathartic and beautiful experience. Gibbs and Snider at The Intersection in Grand Rapids was one of those experiences. All live music is not created equal though. Sometimes you have to go out of your way to find the quality stuff. And I encourage you to do so. Even if that means driving 5 hours to the office furniture capital of the U.S.