Greensky Bluegrass
Photos / Words: Todd Cooley
Concert goers made their way into a newly renovated State Theatre with palpable anticipation not only to see the changes but to experience an incredible show. The energy of the crowd felt familial, with electricity that felt fun and comfortable. This is the type of crowd Greensky Bluegrass attracts, folks, coming to hear music that is both accessible and progressive, music that owes as much to tradition as it does to the future.
Greensky Bluegrass delivered a show which honored that on all fronts. They played music that filled the State Theatre with energy but could make itself at home right on your front porch. I hadn’t heard the openers, Ghost Light, before. They arrived on stage with a typical indie-rock set up – two guitars, bass, drums, and keyboard. Starting off with slow, meandering indie rock, they immediately gripped the crowd with their dramatic flair, smart effects, and virtuosity. Their set was dramatic, and soon after their introductory cool blue tones they slowly build up tension until they reached an amorphous jam section which felt like the middle of some “Explosions in the Sky” record. Cymbal and snare drum hits crashed down like tidal waves. The lead guitarist/vocalist Tom Hamilton played noodling guitar riffs which danced on top of the explosive rhythm section. He sang with an earnestness that made you believe he was telling the truth. And they could shift the mood of their set on a dime. This apocalyptic jam session led the way to a fast-paced bluesy section which felt as fun as a song by “Tokyo Police Club”. This led to a hopeful piano outro, reminding me of Bruce Hornsby.
I loved this set because of its resistance to form, and the variety of influences it showcased. Greensky Bluegrass walked on stage stoically, in a clean white light which gave their acoustic instruments a natural sheen. Guitar, mandolin, upright bass, slide guitar, banjo. The six of them looked the part of the archetypical folk musicians as if the Avett Brothers had walked on stage with John Prine. They started their set with a backward glance towards tradition, beginning with the familiar Bob Dylan tune “Tonight I’ll Be Staying Here With You,” which cast a sepia tone at the beginning of the performance. While they sang tight harmonies, masterfully plucked their chord sequences, they slowly revealed the experimental nature of their arrangements. Members of the band traded off sung verses unexpectedly. Their solos were nuanced, charged. These were people who understood their genre, but also knew how to maximize the music while staying true to it. Slide guitar easily exchanged with banjo, and then mandolin, like a conversation between friends on a breezy spring morning. Though the ensemble was simple -no percussion, only acoustic instruments - there was a brilliance to their playing that filled the room with a glow. Watching these guys was like watching the sunrise.
The light show featured zaps of blue and red that pierced through the darkness, bringing the audience into a more experimental, futuristic setting. This highlighted their innovative take on the bluegrass sound. Sections of their set had a mystery to them, and while they could rise into the brightness of traditional bluegrass, they periodically sank into shadows of phaser and distortion. They wanted to use the tools available to them as modern musicians to make the music their own. Escaping out of one of these sections was a call and response refrain, led by Hoffman, pulled us from the atonal darkness and brought us back into familiarity. He sang with emotion and a punkish rawness, which had the weight of a “The Hotelier” record. Their songs simultaneously comforted and provoked, gripped and challenged, and the crowd was on board for every moment.
Maine is a cold, dark place in the wintertime. The streets of Portland after the show were sparse with pedestrians, coated in snow and ice. On some days, it feels like winter will drag on forever. Though, inside the State Theatre that night, it could have been a warm afternoon. Throughout the show, beer was sipped, dancing was done, and smiles were worn. I noticed early on that there was a mix of young and old people in the crowd – teenagers in plaid stood next to old men singing along with each old-timey song on the pre-show playlist. There is something greater than the sum of its parts about a crowd like this, one that is accessible to multiple generations of listeners. It brings people together even more closely than a typical concert. By the end of the set, there was a sun that had risen in all of us, a warmth which wasn’t there before. One word that kept coming to mind during the set was hopefulness. I think this band was trying to communicate just that. Despite darkness and mystery, there is always a way out of it. Sometimes, something as simple as a bluegrass tune is enough to get you there.
