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Joe January
photo by Brody
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As for the rest of the show on March 5, 2009, we were mostly there to cover Dent May (billed as Dent May and His Magnificent Ukulele). The headliner was AA Bondy, who previously opened up for Cold War Kids (a very odd pairing). And speaking of odd pairing, it would seem that May and Bondy are truly the 21st century odd couple. Read on!
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Dent May knows he sorta-kinda-maybe sounds like Jens Lekman, thank you very much. He also gets the Stephen Merritt reference, and although the mild-mannered Mississippi native is flattered by the association, it’s obvious he wants to distance himself just enough to establish his own niche. It makes sense, though, the comparisons; all three artists share a tongue-in-cheek humor that glorifies a very specific eccentricity—a silly reverence for serious subject matter and an almost-cutesy collection of cultural references. On top of that, May plays a ukulele, one of four instruments that are funny simply by existing (the other three are the kazoo, the recorder and the rain stick; the keytar was also hilarious until hipsters embraced it).
Dent May opened for A.A. Bondy on Thursday at the 400 Bar. It’s an interesting pairing: May with his magnificent ukulele and songs about Michael Chang; Bondy with his average-sized guitar and songs about heroin. When May stepped on stage he looked like a used bookstore employee/lover of Tron; when Bondy stepped on stage he looked like maybe he’d had a rough night. A 21st century odd couple, wherein May’s neurotically specific prose complements Bondy’s sloppy-sad loner blues, and the rest is beautiful history.
After all, who writes about Michael Chang (“God Loves You, Michael Chang”)? Obviously, the same person who bemoans the banality of being an understimulated intellectual stuck in a small town (and stuck in apathy): “college town boy get off your ass and do something / college town boy, how does it feel to be nothing?” It hurts in a familiar way, doesn’t it? I remember when I graduated college with a stupid art degree and was forced to get a “real job” and, as a result, essentially wasted four years of private education to collate paper. This must be why May’s music is appealing to us average, middle-class Midwesterners: we’re the new breed of Benjamin Braddock—dissatisfied with life for no valid reason; bored because we have too many options, none of which require much effort or struggle (the idea of blood, sweat and tears is romantic, but getting our hands dirty is gross). When May sings “I’m over, being sober / I’m an alcoholic / I think I’ll get drunk tonight” (“I’m An Alcoholic”) it doesn’t have the same weight as when Bondy sings “Sweet, sweet heroin / won’t you be all mine / I don’t want to feel a thing / want nothing on my mind” (“Vice Rag”). This is my one criticism of May: occasionally his kitschy wit borders on tacky; and while satire is always a little derisive, it’s more effective if the satirist is truly a part of the group he’s mocking, and May seems just on the outskirts of authenticity.
However, believability aside, May certainly charmed the crowd, what with his adorable smallness, dorky-cool spectacles, crazy stage antics (jumping! While holding his ukulele!), and a genuinely feel-good aura. By the time Bondy took the stage and strummed his first bleak note, the small standing room was full and the overall mood had changed.
I was immediately reminded of that period in my life when I would drive around the lakes late at night—one continuous loop around and around, chain smoking, listening to Dusty in Memphis, and doing a lot of non-thinking thinking (you know, when your brain totally mellows but you still feel anxious); watching Bondy brought back those feelings, which sounds far too emo to take seriously, but I’m serious. I was there, man. I think this explains my current infatuation with “new” Americana/gothic alt-country folk (some day I’m going to find a perfectly succinct term for “new Americana gothic alt-country folk”; not this day). Although lyrically Bondy describes a world-weariness that comes with painful experience, the honesty and blunt poetics are capable of tugging even the purest heart. Ignoring the fact that Bondy used to front the Nirvana-esque grunge band Verbena, I’ll say this too: where May lacked some hard-luck legitimacy, Bondy completely pulled off the “I caught my wife cheating on me, my truck broke down, I have $2 in change, how much for a swill of the cheap stuff?” look. Perhaps it was the disjointed between-song rambling; rambling never implies a confident, sober, emotionally sound psyche (I wish I could remember, verbatim, the unintentionally amusing things that came out of his mouth). Whatever the reason, thank you A.A. (and also thank you, Dent) for helping me to confront cheerless self-realizations and loserish tendencies. It’s like discount therapy (with beer).
Dent May + magnificent ukulele are currently on tour with AC Newman (through mid-March) followed by SXSW and a mini-tour with Animal Collective (!). Unfortunately, for Bondy fans, it seems his only upcoming show is Bonnaroo in June. For more information on either musician, see links to their respective websites and Myspace below.
Addendum: my concert date, Kate, would like it to be known, throughout the e-world, that she would not refuse sex from any of Dent May’s band members, if they offer.
Dent May and His Magnificent Ukulele at the 400 Bar, Minneapolis (05 Mar 2009) photo by Brody
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