Bernadette Seacrest and her Yes Men
So I went to a shindig on a recent Sunday night.
I got there at closing in on 9. They started at 8. Cover? nada.
I left at 11 because I had to go 40 miles home and had work in the early AM. They were still playing strong. So they had 3 hours on by the time I left. dayum.
So to set the scene; Jules Mae's is a saloon that has been such since 1888. For a long time it was a run down out of the way dive with a beautiful, gigantic bar and bar back. Run down and out of the way because it sits in the shadow of the freeway in the middle of what was for many years the industrial heart of seattle. Rainier had a factory here just up the street. Brick warehouses and factory spaces all over the place. The few bars were generally sparsely populated after dark. It was a great place to ride to for a quiet drink with a buddy or two. Even better done solo. But back then you had to park your bike where you could see it for the place did have a lot of human rats and sparse traffic made unattended vehicles a very tempting target.
Nowadays Jules has been bought by some young turks who along with other young urban pioneers have discovered Georgetown to be a place to colonize. Where Jules used to be the only bar for a multitude block radius, there is now a half dozen within puking distance.
After being purchased, Jules got a good working over. You could always see the veiled beauty in the old girl. Sort of like how you can see the stunning beauty your grandmother was when she first dazzled grandad. You could see the dark wood behind the inflatable sports bar crap, like the curve of granma's cheek hiding behind the sagging flesh of age. Well old jules got herself a new look. They pulled out the lowered ceiling to expose the solid rafters 20' up. They sanded and restained the dark wood floor. Everything is done in dark wood. Modern, but echoing the antique and massive bar and mirror. Jules is long and deep as well as tall. And all the way in the back is a stage and floor in a whole separate room. Enough space to pack in a 150 odd folks if they are friendly enough and a 3' high stage big enough to accomodate a solid 4-5 peice band if the frontman doesnt pull any David Lee Roth bullshit. And it is far enough away from the main bar that they can really wail back there and you can still have a conspiratorial meeting with your partners.
This sunday night the front of the place was just about deserted. I walked into the backroom and there was about 50-60 folks sitting at candle lit tables. an area the size of a pool table accomodating recroom was cleared up front for the dancers.
As I said before, when I rolled in, Bernadette and the Yes Men were already infusing the audience with thier dark mahogany sounds...a fitting sound for Jules new look.
How to describe the music? It's hard.
Have you ever watched a master of an asian art do his thang? To them everything is in the perfection of the moment. When you learn an asian art; whether the tea ceremony or calligraphy or some deadly martial art; you learn the movements first. You repeat the movements until it is absolute perfection in the smallest nerve ending and hair follicle. Power comes later. And by the time you are ready to learn the power and application of the art, you are able to perform those basic movements so precisely that your motions would be no different than that of the master who created it a thousand years ago.
When Bernadette and the Yes Men did thier thang, you could feel the power. Always there. But they never over played the space. Just enough to fill the room and your bones, but not enough to rattle them. And so the smallest notes, the lightest brush of a cymbal, the deepest slide of the bass, the softest whisper of her voice were utterly clear. Perfection in the smallest motions. Utter mastery of thier craft.
Bernadette is an incredibly charismatic presence. She is self effacing and charming while being utterly confident in her beauty and skill as a musician. Yes musician, not mere vocalist. She literally plays her voice and the microphone. Each nuance is intimately understood by her. She plays with the distance her mouth is from the microphone, even turning her head away from the old style mic head to gently clear her throat so as to not induce a harsh sound. Bernadette plays with not just her voice like some scatting momma. She tells the stories. Her face is a malleable trumpet bell as she grimaces in pain, smiles with joy or sneers with contempt or challenge.
And Bernadette is the consumate front woman. She is so comfortable with her self and so charming that no one can avoid liking her whether on stage or just chatting while buying a cd. Every man wanted to be with her and every woman wanted to be her if for no other reason than to taste that confidence and charisma.
Contrasting that Lovely June Cleaver cum Morticia Addams class and charm was the darkness in the songs she sang. Many arranged and written by the bass player Michael (I'm sorry I forgot his last name) Bernadette would introduce a song about drugs, despair or just plain aching loneliness after tossing a two-timing man with a lovely Betty Rubble giggle that hits you like stumbling over a crack in the sidewalk.
Now while Bernadette could easily carry a whole show acapella, what really locks it in to a lifetime experience is the Yes Men. Each one individually a master of his instruments and able to ad lib solo at will. Combine that with a cohesive lack of ego team work and they really put the spice on the meal. The whole ensemble just plain works. You can feel them all working together, stepping out of eachother's way as each gets a chance to show off. No, not show off really, just cut loose a bit.
And with that much power and ability, every once in a while a member would cut loose with some ripping power just to feel the muscles flex a bit. Show the steel behind the velvet. The saxophone player setting fire to the drapes. The bass player driving you so deep you think you might drown. The drummer has this awesome tool roll of different kinds of sticks and he would peak and tweak the beat like a master mechanic tuning a hotrod with his eyes closed. And the Bernadette would chime in with a wail that gives birth to tales of banshees and sirens luring men to a happy but inevitable death.
I did buy the CD. Sadly they were out of Michael's (the bass player) cd. I have two complaints about the cd. After a 3 hour show, 11 songs is way the fuck too short. And it doesnt hold a candle to the blazing pyre that is seeing them in person. Like the jazz and blues greats of old, their music and presence is analog and warm; cold digital doesnt quite cut the same groove in your soul.
I for one would *love* to hear them again in a dive bar with the spring storms beating the shit out of the windows.
I got there at closing in on 9. They started at 8. Cover? nada.
I left at 11 because I had to go 40 miles home and had work in the early AM. They were still playing strong. So they had 3 hours on by the time I left. dayum.
So to set the scene; Jules Mae's is a saloon that has been such since 1888. For a long time it was a run down out of the way dive with a beautiful, gigantic bar and bar back. Run down and out of the way because it sits in the shadow of the freeway in the middle of what was for many years the industrial heart of seattle. Rainier had a factory here just up the street. Brick warehouses and factory spaces all over the place. The few bars were generally sparsely populated after dark. It was a great place to ride to for a quiet drink with a buddy or two. Even better done solo. But back then you had to park your bike where you could see it for the place did have a lot of human rats and sparse traffic made unattended vehicles a very tempting target.
Nowadays Jules has been bought by some young turks who along with other young urban pioneers have discovered Georgetown to be a place to colonize. Where Jules used to be the only bar for a multitude block radius, there is now a half dozen within puking distance.
After being purchased, Jules got a good working over. You could always see the veiled beauty in the old girl. Sort of like how you can see the stunning beauty your grandmother was when she first dazzled grandad. You could see the dark wood behind the inflatable sports bar crap, like the curve of granma's cheek hiding behind the sagging flesh of age. Well old jules got herself a new look. They pulled out the lowered ceiling to expose the solid rafters 20' up. They sanded and restained the dark wood floor. Everything is done in dark wood. Modern, but echoing the antique and massive bar and mirror. Jules is long and deep as well as tall. And all the way in the back is a stage and floor in a whole separate room. Enough space to pack in a 150 odd folks if they are friendly enough and a 3' high stage big enough to accomodate a solid 4-5 peice band if the frontman doesnt pull any David Lee Roth bullshit. And it is far enough away from the main bar that they can really wail back there and you can still have a conspiratorial meeting with your partners.
This sunday night the front of the place was just about deserted. I walked into the backroom and there was about 50-60 folks sitting at candle lit tables. an area the size of a pool table accomodating recroom was cleared up front for the dancers.
As I said before, when I rolled in, Bernadette and the Yes Men were already infusing the audience with thier dark mahogany sounds...a fitting sound for Jules new look.
How to describe the music? It's hard.
Have you ever watched a master of an asian art do his thang? To them everything is in the perfection of the moment. When you learn an asian art; whether the tea ceremony or calligraphy or some deadly martial art; you learn the movements first. You repeat the movements until it is absolute perfection in the smallest nerve ending and hair follicle. Power comes later. And by the time you are ready to learn the power and application of the art, you are able to perform those basic movements so precisely that your motions would be no different than that of the master who created it a thousand years ago.
When Bernadette and the Yes Men did thier thang, you could feel the power. Always there. But they never over played the space. Just enough to fill the room and your bones, but not enough to rattle them. And so the smallest notes, the lightest brush of a cymbal, the deepest slide of the bass, the softest whisper of her voice were utterly clear. Perfection in the smallest motions. Utter mastery of thier craft.
Bernadette is an incredibly charismatic presence. She is self effacing and charming while being utterly confident in her beauty and skill as a musician. Yes musician, not mere vocalist. She literally plays her voice and the microphone. Each nuance is intimately understood by her. She plays with the distance her mouth is from the microphone, even turning her head away from the old style mic head to gently clear her throat so as to not induce a harsh sound. Bernadette plays with not just her voice like some scatting momma. She tells the stories. Her face is a malleable trumpet bell as she grimaces in pain, smiles with joy or sneers with contempt or challenge.
And Bernadette is the consumate front woman. She is so comfortable with her self and so charming that no one can avoid liking her whether on stage or just chatting while buying a cd. Every man wanted to be with her and every woman wanted to be her if for no other reason than to taste that confidence and charisma.
Contrasting that Lovely June Cleaver cum Morticia Addams class and charm was the darkness in the songs she sang. Many arranged and written by the bass player Michael (I'm sorry I forgot his last name) Bernadette would introduce a song about drugs, despair or just plain aching loneliness after tossing a two-timing man with a lovely Betty Rubble giggle that hits you like stumbling over a crack in the sidewalk.
Now while Bernadette could easily carry a whole show acapella, what really locks it in to a lifetime experience is the Yes Men. Each one individually a master of his instruments and able to ad lib solo at will. Combine that with a cohesive lack of ego team work and they really put the spice on the meal. The whole ensemble just plain works. You can feel them all working together, stepping out of eachother's way as each gets a chance to show off. No, not show off really, just cut loose a bit.
And with that much power and ability, every once in a while a member would cut loose with some ripping power just to feel the muscles flex a bit. Show the steel behind the velvet. The saxophone player setting fire to the drapes. The bass player driving you so deep you think you might drown. The drummer has this awesome tool roll of different kinds of sticks and he would peak and tweak the beat like a master mechanic tuning a hotrod with his eyes closed. And the Bernadette would chime in with a wail that gives birth to tales of banshees and sirens luring men to a happy but inevitable death.
I did buy the CD. Sadly they were out of Michael's (the bass player) cd. I have two complaints about the cd. After a 3 hour show, 11 songs is way the fuck too short. And it doesnt hold a candle to the blazing pyre that is seeing them in person. Like the jazz and blues greats of old, their music and presence is analog and warm; cold digital doesnt quite cut the same groove in your soul.
I for one would *love* to hear them again in a dive bar with the spring storms beating the shit out of the windows.
posted by Z at
8:38 AM
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