I swear to the Gods of Rock n’ Roll, the Mohawk was built for Will Johnson. The indoor stage, in its tiny glory, is the perfect fit for Johnson’s solo show. Packed into the sliver of space between the bar and the stage, which is no more than a few feet off the ground, I can’t help but feel like I’m there to see my friend’s band’s first gig at the tiniest, most out of the way place in town. But the same intimacy that makes watching your friend’s band awkward makes the Mohawk perfect for Will Johnson.
{{{Sunset}}} (Get it? {0} is the “empty set” so they’re “sunset.” I have no idea if that’s intentional, but I love math jokes.) have just taken the stage as I arrived. Sure they play some music, I’ll tell you about it, but first thing’s first: is their name pronounced “Sunset,” or “Bracket Bracket Bracket Sunset Bracket Bracket Bracket” (which is ridiculous)? These ‘symbol’ band names are a difficult for me - imagine my embarrassment when I asked a fellow music snob what he thought of “Exclamation Point Exclamation Point Exclamation Point”. Boy, was I sorry! So when Bill Baird leans into the mic between songs and announces that the band’s called “Sunset” I was relieved, to say the least.
But back to the music: {{{Sunset}}} was the outlet for Baird’s solo songwriting when Sound Team were still together. Now that they’ve (unfortunately) called it quits, Baird has been focusing his efforts solely on his own band. A lot of their studio work is experimental, dealing with noises and odd instrumentation/production. For the most part, these nuances are stripped down for the live show. That’s not to say the performance is without its merits, however, as the three and four part vocal harmonies are spot on and really give an added depth to the music. In front of the stage sits a Fender Rhodes that’s been run through a distortion filter and mixed obnoxiously loud. “Is that too loud?” Baird asks without really waiting for a response. The songs that translate well are fun, but I’m left wondering why such a loud energetic band like {{{Sunset}}} is opening for the subdued folk of Jaffe and Johnson.
Will Johnson watches from the stairs as Sarah Jaffe and her band take to the stage. My expectations are admittedly somewhat low, as the genre of female folk singers is not exactly what I turn to for new music; but Jaffe is unusually original, complimenting her simple folk song constructions with thoughtful lyrics and creative instrumentation. Her voice is commanding, and has no trouble fighting its way above the chatter of the bar. In addition to her voice and acoustic guitar are a cello, some soft drums, a few keyboards/bells here and there, and Jonathan Clark’s unorthodox use of the Fender Telecaster, which often produces more carefully crafted sounds and ambient rhythms than lead lines. Johnson even makes an appearance on stage to sing a cover of The Magnetic Field’s “Strange Powers” with her, a song “I wish I wrote,” she says. Stephin Merritt may have beat her to that one, but she’s playing songs smart enough to garner some jealousy of her own.
It takes Johnson about 5 minutes to set up, his gear consisting of one moderately sized amp, a semi-hollow body electric guitar, and of course, the acoustic. By this point the crowd is packing into the tiny space nestled between the stage and bar, and Johnson is sound-checking over the dull roar of conversations. He keeps playing the guitar after a few vocal checks, and slowly the crowd realizes the show’s starting, and murmurs turn to whispers turn to silence as he sings the opening line to “Emma Jane.”
Drawing on both old and new, including songs from the upcoming Dual Hawks and songs written just two weeks ago in Mississippi, the setlist aims to please with variety. It certainly worked on me: Johnson invites Jaffe back up to the stage to play my favorite song of any Will Johnson band, South San Gabriel’s “I Feel Too Young To Die.” Sure it’s missing the backup vocals, and most of the rest of the song, but watching the two interact through the song is an experience in its own right. “Album perfect” isn’t what solo shows are all about, anyway. Our culture has a fascination with creation; the idea of seeing something made before our eyes is engaging. Watching Johnson play is like watching the songs in their original conception. It’s fascinating, engaging even.
The crowd gets to play backup singers too, a tradition at his solo shows, I’ve found. One of the parts is quite high - “Don’t be afraid of that part, man,” shouts Will. Shouts of “Practice!” come from the audience. “Real bands don’t practice, right,” he retorts, “they just go play shows to nobody in Ohio. I love Ohio, but it’ll kick you in the nuts, man.” When our time comes, I sing like a pro, of course. Self-taught, you know. Shortly thereafter the set draws to a close, and it’s time to find that regrettable $6 parking spot I’ve almost forgot about.
