Peter Mulvey concert

Last night we went to a concert. This is unusual, because we haven’t gone to a concert since we lived in Austin. It’s been a few years. Between the move to San Diego, which seems to mostly lack a music scene of the sort we find comfortable, and the age of the kids (e.g., not concert-friendly), we have had to stay out of it.

But last week I noticed that Acoustic Music San Diego actually says on their site that they encourage kids attending. So off we went, with David’s Gameboy in tow in case he got bored. We did end up needing it, as he played Pokemon through much of the show; but he also got Peter to sign it, because he said “he plays good music.” Peter misidentified it as a PlayStation — alas, folksingers are not always up on the latest technologies.

Big giant concerts are generally a pain in the ass. Hours to get through lines, to park, to find seats only to realize you’ll be watching small ants scurrying on a distant stage, ticket prices that rival the price of electronic gadgets but without the ability to install upgrades and homebrew… we went to our share a long time ago, but have kind of drifted towards more intimate stuff, or towards festival-style shows. Elena’s first concert was Michael Lille, at 9 days old, at the folk series at St. Edwards University in Austin. She also endured the Kerrville Folk Festival as a toddler — Kerrville is probably my favorite music experience ever.

Anyway, we saw Peter Mulvey. I’ve been following his stuff since 1995 or so; I don’t recall how I heard about him, but the first CD of his I picked up was Rapture, and it’s still my favorite (and where I’d recommend you start).

Peter Mulvey falls in the Boston school of singer-songwriters. That means alternate tunings and story songs, mostly. (There are other schools, of course: Austin, Nashville, North Carolina, Northwest, and so on… and there’s a lot of variety within them). It also frequently means guitar wizardry. If I had to pick other acoustic players with similar sensibilities to Mulvey, it’d probably be Tom Prasada-Rao, Patty Larkin, or Don Conoscenti. Maybe even a bit of Marty Sexton, though he doesn’t get anywhere near as wild, and isn’t blessed with that stunning voice. Like Prasada-Rao, Mulvey’s fond of jazzy sounds. He’s also funky — don’t think just floaty acoustic ramblings here.

This was a CD release tour; he’s got The Knuckleball Suite“ out, which is full of excellently written songs, that alas, are a bit drowned in electric guitar in the production in a few cases. He’s such a phenomenal acoustic player that one misses hearing his guitar on the CD.

His lyrics reveal an ear for detail, too:

The pretty young girl in the hi-tops
Is speaking of Shelley to me
I’m drinking red wine, I feel fine as she tells me
“We lose all the best to the sea.”
…It’s snowing in Cleveland, I’m no one to tell her
We lose all the best things to time

The concert was a lot of fun — like most of these touring singer-songwriters, he’s an engaging live performer, with a lengthy stock of anecdotes and funny asides. And it was good to finally see him live after ten years of CDs.

They’ve got Ellis Paul coming in September. I’ll think we’ll be going.