There Stands the Glass

Walking through the doors of The Truman on Friday, August 5, was like entering an alternate universe. In this musical realm, terrestrial radio doesn’t exist, the Turnpike Troubadours are bigger than the Beatles and Tyler Childers is a more important poet than Bob Dylan.

The Kenny Chesney t-shirt worn by a woman enthusiastically buying Flatland Cavalry gear was the only glitch in the matrix. Yet the six men in Flatland Cavalry and the youthful audience of almost 1,000 who purchased tickets at a median price of $27 aren’t judgemental elitists.

Even though it qualifies as a real-deal country band replete with a fiddler, the gimmick-free Flatland Cavalry can’t be bothered with stylistic divisions. The band from Lubbock combines the sweet sentimentality of pop-country stars such as Luke Bryan with the rugged approach of Texas troubadours like Robert Earl Keen.

The twinkle in his eyes, his torn denim shirt and sketchy trash ’stache give front man Cleto Cordero a passing resemblance to the young John Prine. His bandmates are equally charismatic. Their 90-minute show was filled with stellar musicianship and engaging theatrics.

Renditions of cult favorites including “Gettin’ By” were immensely satisfying. Nevertheless, the band still lacks a definitive signature song. That’s why the ecstatic response to an earnest cover of “Callin’ Baton Rouge” alarmed me. Rather than compromising, I hope Flatland Cavalry simply waits for the real world to catch up with its excellence.

I’d been listening to Animal Collective all wrong. I spent 20 years discounting Animal Collective as a flighty jam band. Only during the pandemic-induced lockdown did I come to realize the group isn’t merely a more fashionable version of Phish.

The confluence of my deep dive into opera, a dalliance with dark drones and frequent exposure to free jazz improvisations compelled me to reevaluate Animal Collective’s inventive psychedelia. A concert at the Truman on Thursday, July 21, validated my newfound appreciation.

Less dependent on constrictive conventions such as tidy songs with ingratiating melodies, I’m finally willing to capitulate to the absolute sound rendered by one of the most influential bands of the new millennium. Yet receptivity is not to be confused with the absence of critical acuity.

Not everything about the band’s two-hour performance pleased me on Thursday. While it’s a compelling instrument, I could have done with a lot less of the voice of Avey Tare (a.k.a. David Portnoy). Almost all of the more than 600 people who purchased $35 tickets went nuts during an interpretation of the manic underground hit “The Purple Bottle,” but I remain indifferent to Animal Collective’s rave-ups.

The best bits of the concert in support of the delightful new album Time Skiffs were the sublime instrumental passages that alluded to early music as well as to contemporary classical innovations. Animal Collective is the rare set of rock musicians who are best in their most musically adventurous moments.

The excellent sound field reproduced the subtleties of the band’s performance in exquisite detail. The lighting was equally remarkable. Appearing cheap and tawdry before the lights went down, the stage set was wondrously transformed into a glorious array of colorful 1970s-style graphics.

Much as I initially underestimated the prospect for compelling visuals, I’d misjudged Animal Collective since 2000. Even so, I don’t feel too badly about missing out. I sense that the best- whether in a continuation of the band or in its members’ solo endeavors- is yet to come.

Concert Review: Flatland Cavalry at The Truman

Concert Review: Animal Collective at The Truman