Grant Lee Buffalo
Fez, New York, May 11, 1998
"Here's a new one," Grant Lee Phillips shyly announced nine songs into Grant Lee Buffalo's performance tonight at the jazz-club cozy Fez. Thank God. Nothing against the uniformly excellent material from the band's first three albums that had hogged the first hour of the show, but for too long it seemed as though the band were going to pull a Dylan + i.e., "We've got a brilliant, career re-defining album coming out. But we're not going to touch it."

As refreshing as it was to finally hear a new song, however, it was a little disappointing to hear Grant Lee Buffalo steer clear of the full-out rock & roll that makes their forthcoming Jubilee such a juggernaut. With the exception of an enthusiastic "Truly, Truly" (the first single) and the crashing power-pop chorus of "Testimony," the five new songs highlighted tonight did not veer far from the subtle stateliness of GLB calling cards such as "Mockingbirds," "Honey Don't Think" and "Happiness." Perhaps it was the acoustic intimacy of tonight's set that led the band to eschew harder-hitting new anthems like "Seconds" and "APB," songs which could very well kick the group hard and fast into the unsuspecting gut of the rock mainstream. Maybe the band was just saving them for a venue without seating and waiter service.

Which is not to say that tonight was a quiet strumfest. Even in their most low-key moments, Grant Lee Buffalo played with a swelling majesty that easily could have filled the very "Bridges to Babylon"-sized arenas that Phillips joked about at the beginning of the evening. Even before he traded his acoustic guitar for a large electric Gibson for the new "SuperSloMotion," his use of effects pedals -- combined with the searing synthesizer and keyboard leads of new touring member Phil Parlapiano -- lent a thrilling charge to songs like "Bethlehem Steel" and "Lone Star Song." The latter, a fierce stirring of the ghosts of the Waco stand-off ("Hurray the holy war is ending/Like the films of Hollywood/And the angels are descending/Like Koresh had said they would"), was further propelled by Parlapiano's shredding mandolin break. The multi-instrumentalist, along with new bassist Bill Bonk, more than made up for the absence of founding member Paul Kimble, who left the band after 1996's Copperopolis. Bonk, who displayed a remarkably subtle touch on bass, was a perfect complement to drummer Joey Peters' equally economical playing. Together they conveyed the menace of a distant, gathering storm and the halting beating of a voodoo-resurrected heart. And then, enveloping it all like a velvet fog, was Phillip's voice.

Even in the close confines of Fez, Phillip's rich tenor boomed like a kick-drum echoing through a vast, empty auditorium. Simultaneously recalling a young Van Morrison and U2's Bono, with shades of Lou Reed -- though often surpassing the latter two in terms of outright passion (his forays into the falsetto stratosphere, as on "Mockingbirds," produced genuine chills where Bono's attempts on, say, "Lemon" produces cringing). Phillips' voice is clearly the crown jewel in Grant Lee Buffalo's embarrassment of riches. Nowhere was this more clear than on his rapturous scat-singing and improvisational embellishment which punctuated standout songs like "The Hook" and the "Arousing Thunder."

The only thing to steal the thunder from Phillips' singing tonight was his revealing and charming stage patter. Stuttering and shifting awkwardly from foot to foot like a nervous child on the brink of wetting his pants, Phillips nonetheless managed to convey a flighty charisma undercut with biting, effortless satire. There was no shortage of memorable songs tonight, but, ultimately, none of the performances matched his impromptu and hilarious burst of blatant Jim Morrison-mocking poetry sparked by the snaky Ray Manzarek organ line Parlapiano quietly pecked out behind him. "You follow me with music everywhere I go," complimented the singer. "Kind of like Brad Pitt in that movie where there's a little jig behind him in every scene so you don't forget he's Irish."

Granted, one would expect a few soft spots in even the most solid of performances, and Phillips is far too self-effacing for Grant Lee Buffalo to be mistaken as flawless. Even in the context of the quieter song selection tonight, the slow, spacious crawl of "Mighty Joe Moon" dragged the proceedings down a bit. "Truly, Truly," truthfully speaking, seems too basic a song for this band's capabilities even by Jubilee's more pop-friendly standards. And tonight's up-tempo, driving rendition of "Arousing Thunder" -- however thrilling it was just to hear it live -- fell short of the hushed, transcendent beauty of the studio take on Copperopolis.

But that's already scraping the cynicism barrel; any more nit-picking would be like sitting before a lavish, five-star feast and moaning that the water in the finger-bowl is tepid. On the evidence of tonight's performance alone -- not to mention four increasingly potent albums -- Grant Lee Buffalo sounds like America's most shining hour since the heyday of the Band.

RICHARD SKANSE