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Boris and the Salt Licks - 2nd Street Brewery, Santa Fe, NM - September 21, 2013
[New
Mexico] I was first struck by the scene. I guess it was a scene typical of a
brewery in a liberal Southwestern city (I have no home anymore)… lots of
hippy-esque people, lots of happy people. The altitude (surprisingly high) of
Santa Fe was evident in the Tevas and the sportswear. The unusual part was the
enthusiasm of the people – they knew this band, down to the lyrics, and they
were ready to dance once a dancing song presented itself (I’m talking the
entire patio, i.e., the hippy side of Santa Fe). Of note, we walked to this
place from our cheap little hotel, through a pretty poor predominantly Hispanic
neighborhood, only to find ourselves in a whitey-white place – leads me to
believe this is a gentrifying area of SF. Despite all, I really liked this
band. They had heart, smarts, talent. Instruments included a revolving
assortment of guitar, lapsteel, upright bass, banjo, harmonica, drum... They addressed
my desire to immerse myself in New Mexico with lyrics about the skies of New
Mexico, the Sangre de Cristo mountains (could mountains have a better name?),
and Dixon (the home of the garlic farm featured in the fantastic book I just
read: “A Garlic Testament: Seasons on a Small New Mexico Farm”…. You can
purchase books or shallots at his webpage: http://www.stanleycrawford.net/). The
lead singer/songwriter’s diverse background was evident with lyrics about
California and Kurt Cobain too. And to be corporate, that’s where this band
fails, they’re too diverse. My favorite stuff by them was their psych country
(e.g., Camper Van Beethoven) and spaghetti western material, but they had
plenty of more straightforward alt-country, outlaw country, and even
singer/songwriter material. Not to mention their one funk song, which the
dancing crowd loved. Sure, playing all sorts of genres is indicative of talent,
but it’s also indicative of a lack of identity – I’m hating myself as I write
this, but if this band wants to move forward, they need to create a focused
identity and have some sort of presence online. In further nastiness, the best
parts of the night were the dancing antics of the extremely white crowd. First,
the hugely awkward backwards and forwards shuffling of the white scientists in
dockers and polo shirts. And the best, the middle aged woman in a side pony
tail and black t-shirt under a tie-dyed dress, mimicking a pony ride to the
song “Pony Ride” with her senior citizen boyfriend. She had to adjust the
Velcro on her shoes by the time she was done. And we were the stationary
exhausted jerks bringing the whole porch down J
[New
Mexico] I was first struck by the scene. I guess it was a scene typical of a
brewery in a liberal Southwestern city (I have no home anymore)… lots of
hippy-esque people, lots of happy people. The altitude (surprisingly high) of
Santa Fe was evident in the Tevas and the sportswear. The unusual part was the
enthusiasm of the people – they knew this band, down to the lyrics, and they
were ready to dance once a dancing song presented itself (I’m talking the
entire patio, i.e., the hippy side of Santa Fe). Of note, we walked to this
place from our cheap little hotel, through a pretty poor predominantly Hispanic
neighborhood, only to find ourselves in a whitey-white place – leads me to
believe this is a gentrifying area of SF. Despite all, I really liked this
band. They had heart, smarts, talent. Instruments included a revolving
assortment of guitar, lapsteel, upright bass, banjo, harmonica, drum... They addressed
my desire to immerse myself in New Mexico with lyrics about the skies of New
Mexico, the Sangre de Cristo mountains (could mountains have a better name?),
and Dixon (the home of the garlic farm featured in the fantastic book I just
read: “A Garlic Testament: Seasons on a Small New Mexico Farm”…. You can
purchase books or shallots at his webpage: http://www.stanleycrawford.net/). The
lead singer/songwriter’s diverse background was evident with lyrics about
California and Kurt Cobain too. And to be corporate, that’s where this band
fails, they’re too diverse. My favorite stuff by them was their psych country
(e.g., Camper Van Beethoven) and spaghetti western material, but they had
plenty of more straightforward alt-country, outlaw country, and even
singer/songwriter material. Not to mention their one funk song, which the
dancing crowd loved. Sure, playing all sorts of genres is indicative of talent,
but it’s also indicative of a lack of identity – I’m hating myself as I write
this, but if this band wants to move forward, they need to create a focused
identity and have some sort of presence online. In further nastiness, the best
parts of the night were the dancing antics of the extremely white crowd. First,
the hugely awkward backwards and forwards shuffling of the white scientists in
dockers and polo shirts. And the best, the middle aged woman in a side pony
tail and black t-shirt under a tie-dyed dress, mimicking a pony ride to the
song “Pony Ride” with her senior citizen boyfriend. She had to adjust the
Velcro on her shoes by the time she was done. And we were the stationary
exhausted jerks bringing the whole porch down J
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