Lambchop
Before I saw the band in concert, I would never have called the music of Lambchop romantic. Somehow, within a couple of tracks from their new release OH (Ohio), I found myself feeling the lurve. It could have been the semicute gaucheness of singer/guitarist Kurt Wagner, though he is rather an acquired taste. It could have been the rather bizarre album cover, on which is reproduced a painting by Wagner’s old professor depicting a couple of folks making whoopee.
It probably has more to do with the gentler pace of Lambchop’s odd little curio shop songs, the lyrics to which are usually about the simpler things in life. Like love, for example. Shaded by the peak of his trademark cap, Wagner puts a lot of effort into his performance yet in a charming sort of way, everything comes out softly.
The band’s rapport is familiar and well-rehearsed, though their number has been somewhat reduced over the last few years, arriving at an evidently natural balance. For much of the gig, they ambled through the new material and their audience was genial and patient: it always takes a few listens to get into a new Lambchop album anyway, so there weren’t really any big expectations.
Rounding off with a few comparatively rousing numbers from the back catalogue, I almost felt like I wanted to see Wagner and co stretch themselves a bit more, but it would be wrong to impose on them. People who love each other need to give each other room to grow.
