Jonathan Wilson, The Blank Tapes @ Underground Arts

by Todd Zamostien

In a musical landscape folding in upon itself, with edges slowly buckling under the great weight of nothingness that seems to seep from every cookie-cutter mustachioed-band outfitted in suspenders and tweed, true and honest creative expression remains the last bastion of hope for the sonic believer.  On Saturday night, Jonathan Wilson stepped out onto the stage of Underground Arts in Philadelphia to deliver a message to the uninitiated and to bring with him from the wilds of Los Angeles hope to those who had none.  Armed only with his vintage Fender amplifiers and the Telecaster around his neck, Wilson began an unflinching, and often grandiose, journey into the late-60’s Laurel Canyon scene–rubbing elbows with Neil Young, Jackson Browne and Crosby, Stills and Nash.

The show opened with the eponymous title track to his newest album, “Fanfare”, a plaintive ode to love in all its build-ups and breakdowns.   Over the rising drums and whirling Hammond, he begged to the crowd with dreamy tenderness, “Oh, let me love you.  It’s all that I can do not to touch you … You make my heart beat faster.  I need to look into your eyes to see my life floating by.”

Stretching out, his guitar began to lift above the clouds on “Illumination.”  Speaking “through the eyes of a child”, Wilson sought forgiveness and release through his phased-out solos, screaming above the band’s urgency.  Just as quickly, the band transitioned to the funkier rasta-shamen soul grooves of “Fazon”, a church spiritual where Wilson played the role of pastor to his willing disciples.  The band began to find itself–laying back to allow Wilson to lead and exploding on its own into “all those trips into outer space.”

Speaking to the crowd, Wilson confessed to running away from home at fifteen and living in Philadelphia for three weeks until his grandmother caught up with him and forced a Greyhound return.  Confessional aside, the band launched into one the newer albums strongest tracks, “Dear Friend.”  The song begins as an Italian operetta worthy of Bellini and morphs into a Beatles-esque rock opus complete with solos drenched in reverb and Garcia’s characteristic Mu-tron envelope filter funk—all settling onto a blanket of stars just before the sun decides to rise.  There is no question—Wilson is a man that finds solace in rock ‘n’ roll’s past, but he is also a man that does not hesitate to look towards its future.

“Love to Love” came next, a bio encompassing Wilson’s musical history–leaving small-town North Carolina for Los Angeles only to be the driving creative force behind the revival of the Laurel Canyon Scene through his legendary Wednesday night jams, fueled on “strawberry wine.”  The song is rambling Bakersfield gold spun through the eyes of a modern-day hippie.

Strapping on his worn Gibson J-50 acoustic, Wilson works into “Moses Pain”, a song eerily reminiscent of “Late for the Sky”-era Jackson Browne, complete with slide guitar that would be at home in the hands of David Lindley.  No surprise, as the album track features Heartbreaker, Mike Campbell, on slide and back-up vocals led by Jackson Browne and joined by Graham Nash.  Wilson is at home on stage, translating the song’s emotion with ease and without unneeded struggle.

The band then launched into their take on Fleetwood Mac’s “Angel”; delay-drenched Memphis Soul extending into funked-out Marley rhythm-riffs over Wilson’s sweet, smoky vocals.  Digging back into his first album, ‘Gentle Spirit’, “Desert Raven” featured dueling guitars finding harmony amongst rattlesnakes and the first rain falling on a desert border town.  It’s Neil Young circa “Harvest Moon”, certainly.  But if you’re going to wear your influences on your sleeve, you might as well start at the top.

Wilson closed the set with “Trials of Jonathan,” a song from his 2012 limited Record Store Day 12”.  Eyes closed, teeth grit; it’s a ramblin’ Nashville country-rocker cum electric bugaloo.  Not content to end on a high note, Wilson found his way back on stage for two encores—“Ballad of the Pines” and “Valley of the Silver Moon.”  The first was a sweet Appalachia 12-string ballad, the latter anything but.  The closer was a cathedral of reverb broken by the crunch of Wilson’s blonde Bassman—it’s Neil Young “Cinnamon Girl”, backing off into the ether, falling off into the darkness and getting lost somewhere in the Valley.  You can almost see the moon rising as big as the night sky as the Hammond organ and slide guitar climb amongst the heavens.  Jonathan Wilson didn’t want the night to end and neither did the crowd—but the sun rise is as inevitable as a Monday morning and all great loves must come to an end one way or another.

The night was ably opened by The Blank Tapes, an LA/San Francisco-based four-piece combining 60’s pop-jangle harmonies, slow drug-addled sweetness and brilliantly loose fuzzed-out Supro raunch.  Reminiscent of 90’s alterna/power-pop group, Jellyfish (complete with stand-up drummer), The Blank Tapes warmed the room with catchy choruses to be sung over late night cigarettes, smoked around a California beach bonfire.  Rising from the sweet lethargy, Matt Adams’ solo in “Look into the Light”, a blues-basher, was going places—ready to run through the hills of San Francisco stark naked!  Finding chaos in between the simple structures of their songs, The Blank Tapes were at their best when they strayed.  “Oh my, my, this stuff is gonna’ get you high!”

Rock ‘n’ Roll was saved on Saturday night.  We’re not out of the woods just yet, so all donations are still welcome and should be made out to:  c/o Johnny Rotten, 101 Lookout Mountain, Los Angeles, CA 90046.  Please be generous, we’re hungry!