I'm looking at my gig notes from last night. When I say 'notes' I mean a few words scribbled on a Ticketmaster envelope. Across the top of the envelope my Felice Brothers gig companion has written 'Born fifty years too late'. Her argument is that this is rehashed Dylan 'for the kids' and that The Felice Brothers don't speak from the heart but instead draw upon tired old clichés of whiskey soaked men on the run. Now although lead singer, Ian Felice, has a voice more than a little similar to Dylan's and the influences of The Band, Woody Guthrie and Townes Van Zandt are all patently clear, I think there is certainly a place for The Felice Brothers in the here and now.
My friend argues that Ian Felice does not delve into himself in his writing. She explains that he is simply living out tired old outlaw fantasies. He writes lyrics such as,
'my teenage daughter’s knocked up'
and what would a scrawny twenty year old know about such things?
Conversely, what I love about The Felice Brothers is their ability to deliver lyrically rich songs which address themes that are universal and timeless. Yes there are the usual references to poverty, prison and infidelity but when do those themes stop being relevant? As long as life involves struggle there will always be a place for music like this. Frankie's Gun is a deathbed song about a man who has been shot by his friend, Frankie. Clearly, this is a fictional narrative but it's rich with idiom,
'There's ten or twenty dollars and there ain't no lesser, that's for to take my sister to the picture show.'
and some brilliantly evoked detail about the friendship between the two men,
'Frankie, you're a friend of mine, got me off a bender after long-legged Brenda died'
They are five piece outfit with only two actual Felice brothers. Ian Felice is on lead vocals and lead guitar and James Felice is on accordion and keyboard. They are joined by David Turbeville on drums, a man called Christmas on bass and Greg Farley, a slightly over enthusiastic Marky Mark-esque character, on fiddle and washboard. Their performance at The Shepherd's Bush Empire was passionate and energetic. They were joined on stage mid-way through their set by support act (and Ian Felice's best friend), the wonderful A.A. Bondy.
Perhaps the set was a tad long and could have been broken up with a bit more interaction with the crowd and a more spaced out encore but they delivered an astounding array of songs from their vast catalogue. The set included the blush inducing Ballad of Lou the Welterweight which my friend strongly objected to on the basis of its crude content and lack of relation to personal experience but which I love because of the sepia drenched image of a fallen boxer it evokes in my mind,
'Before the bell would ring he had a way like Errol Flynn as he sauntered to the ring'
They ended with a cover of Two Hands by Townes Van Zandt. This choice seemed perhaps a little too earnest but it definitely ended the gig on an uplifting note.
A.A. Bondy's support set was one of the highlights of evening. He wandered on to the stage, with his harmonica and guitar, sleeves rolled like a young Springsteen. In a dreamy state, eyes barely open he began with the gorgeous Mightiest of Guns
The rest of the set was filled with beautiful and fragile songs such as When The Devil's Loose. At times the floating quality of the music transformed The Shepherd's Bush Empire into a ship on choppy waters. He joked about Alabama having no culture and explained that when people asked whether he'd been to The Tate on his London visit he replied,
'We just sit in our hotel room and watch YouTubes'
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