Saturday, March 15, 2008
Jose Gonzalez Concert Review Juste pour Rire Theatre
Alright, I am going to tangent about concert T-shirts before I say a few words about Jose's panty removing performance at the Just for Laughs Theatre last night.
I admit that I lately have a thing where I want to buy concert T-shirts lately. Why? I have this obsession with wearing concert T-shirts to the gym. Other people sweat away in their spandex and sport specific apparel, ATHLETE stuff. I suppose it is some kind of psychological boost, since I question the necessity of $150 spandex shorts for bench pressing for 2 minutes followed by a very strenusous sittitng around for 15 minutes while watching everyone else. I suppose owning $150 spandex shorts means that you need to get your butt to the gym so you can use them or else the guilt alone will kill you. Notably, some of the most serious athletes at the gym wear the same dingy but comfortable outfit each time. So, I wanted to meld the two --a psychological boost with something I like wearing. What could be more perfect than my Do Make Say Think T-shirt? However, it's starting to smell and I need some other concert T-shirts so I can throw it in the wash. Fortunately, Jose Gonzalez offered me the perfect opportunity to pick up a fresh T-shirt to add to my rotating cast of gym clothes.
Back to the concert. Jose Gonzalez. Wow. I mean, what else can I say but wow? The guy oozed on the sensuality through his vulnerability and his talent. This is the kind of music that makes women peel off their panties. Like John Mayer or Elliot Smith. I suppose I can make endless references to the limited cannon of guitair playing soloists I know... he makes me think of early Martin Sexon... but that sounds sort of pretentious and makes it sound as though I have a huge repetoire to draw upon. But, I see the same use of picking out a bass line with one's thumb, something that Marty made into his trademark.
Gonzalez started with a series of solo songs, just him on a chair and his guitair. The theatre was so packed that it was impossible to see him, except for the top of his afro. I found a perch on the steps at the back of the theatre, which I held faithfully through the entire show. After his solo act, he was joined by two band members, who gave body and range to the mournful sensitivity. I would never call it "lush." This was stripped down music, left at its most basic -- angelic vocals, talented guitair playing, simple instrumental backing (not even a full drum kit!). From alpha to omega, and probably beyond, I could stay the course with this cat.
Any complaints? Well, after the show he didn't come up to me and say, "Hey, baby, nice boots. I've got this great bus, if you want to check it out."
For his website: