Concert Review--Gene Watson & Jimi Tunnell

On a night of unexpected booking, I had the opportunity to see legendary country balladeer Gene Watson this past weekend at Dan’s Silverleaf, where 9/10 of the shows I attend are held. I don’t know if he was a late addition to the schedule or if I was just not paying attention, but I didn’t hear about the show until the day before. I was excited to see him, but I didn’t really know what to expect. Outside of a few cuts on the radio, I haven’t listened to his music in years. I didn’t make any special arrangements and just assumed that the show would be normal. Luckily, I figured that the show would be popular, so I went early, almost an hour before what I thought would be the show time but, when I got there, it turned out that the show actually started at 8:00, significantly earlier than any show I’ve seen there. I didn’t understand why until I went in and, instead of a crowded house of drunken cowboys, it appeared that they raided the retirement communities around town to fill the show. The over-70 set was out in full force, calmly viewing the performance and clapping politely. For the first time there, I was significantly younger than anyone there, which put me a little out of place, and the music did so even more.

I don’t know exactly what I was expecting, but it wasn’t what I got. I even call him a balladeer above, so who knows. I guess I was taking the best of what I knew of Watson’s music and combined that with the usual crowd and style at the bar, to assume an outcome that did not happen. It was Branson all the way, and it took me completely off guard. With his balding mullet/perm and his sport coat covering his sweater covering his huge belly, Watson crooned his most famous songs (including “Love in the Hot Afternoon” and “Paper Rosie,” a couple of classics) and a bunch of songs off his new album. He performed them very well, perfectly polished and timed with a completely competent band, but there was very little heart and energy. Every song was “going out to the ladies in the audience,” though I didn’t notice anyone throwing underwear at him. This was clearly a case of somebody doing it for the money, which is fine, but it begs the question of why he’d be performing at Dan’s in front of sixty people instead of in a place like Branson where he’d fit in perfectly, but here he was. The one point of energy on stage at all was completely out of place. The bass player, who was by far the youngest member of the band, was playing his strict 4/4 time and very limited notes popping and jerking with every not, posturing his face in bizarre ways that made me wonder how frustrating it must be for a crack addict to play for Gene Watson.

In the end, he didn’t play very long and, when he left the stage, it was probably 10:00, when most of the shows here generally start. But everybody was filing (slowly) out the doors immediately without staying for an encore. But there was another act, wasn’t there? The place was essentially deserted; maybe twenty people remained. Apparently, this show wasn’t set to start until 11:00, giving them an hour to drive off attendees. I stuck around with the people I was with and, when the clock rolled around, there was maybe ten other people there and Jimi Tunnell finally came up on stage with his band. I had never heard Tunnell before and, from his website, couldn’t clearly discern whether he played country or jazz. I assumed country because of Watson, but I was wrong. It was, in fact, electric jazz, nearly the antithesis of country. The band was a saxophone, bass, drums, and Tunnell on guitar and a Frampton-style talk box. He was a very good guitar player, and the effect of the vocals through the guitar and the ultra-heavy choir effects he had on his system was a jarringly loud, and very interesting experience. Unfortunately, it was also very difficult given the contrast with Gene Watson’s silky songs. We ended up staying for one set; it was already quite late and one of us was not the biggest jazz fusion fan, so we took off.

It was good fun, but not the same kind of time I’m used to going to the country shows at this place. It did teach me two things, though: when I’m going to see artists of the older variety, make sure of what time the show starts and be prepared to get glared at by elderly cowboys who, apparently, believe I’m trying to steal their elderly wives. Both are quality lessons.