Please don’t hate me; I know that’s heresy to music lovers. The thing is, I like to go out for drinks or dinner with friends. We might be halfway through our meal or we might have finished eating and are deep in a discussion of important topics, like “How many electoral votes does New Hampshire actually have?”, “Does this drink taste ginny to you?” or “What would happen to Wyle E. Coyote if he ever actually caught, killed and devoured Bugs Bunny?”, when suddenly, the band starts warming up. This is usually loud- really loud – obnoxiously, physically uncomfortably loud.
So we start talking louder to compensate. The band, seeing that the people in this restaurant or club are actually having conversations, rather than listening in rapt attention, crank up their volume. They can do this because they are sitting comfortably behind the amplifiers.
I don’t know what happens next, because it is usually at this point that my ears start bleeding and we leave.
That’s why it is so remarkable that I stayed seated for Tarbox Ramblers the last time they played a gig in Manchester. They were so good that I didn’t care whether they were loud or not.
Watching the band set up, they don’t look very promising. A slide guitar and an upright bass seem like a good combination, but the addition of drums and a fiddle seems a little odd. Also, the band members themselves don’t look like you’d expect a bar band to. They don’t have long hair or leather pants or a hot girl singer. They look, well, … geeky – sort of like refugees from a Star Trek convention.
None of that matters once they start playing – in fact, it actually makes you take them more seriously. And the fact of the matter is, they are a very serious band. Tarbox Ramblers play mostly folk music, but not the whispy-blonde-girl-moaning-about-the-rainforests-while-living-on-a-trustfund type of folk – more a down and dirty, gutbucket folk music that is almost blues. Think of the soundtrack to Oh Brother! Where Art Thou? reworked for a bar crowd.
The band’s signature tune is a phenomenal reworking of St. James Infirmary that grabs you by your brainstem and refuses to let go. This song is a classic, filled to the brim with soul, suffering and pathos. Unfortunately, most musicians play this number with all the soul of a toothpaste commercial. Tarbox Ramblers play it properly. The lyrics about searching through the bowels of a city, looking for the singer’s lover, who is dying of tuberculosis is a blues natural. Add growley vocals and a fiddle and this becomes almost heartbreaking – but in a cool, life-goes-on sort of way, if that makes any sense.
St. James Infirmary is a good choice for an opening number, because it makes an audience more receptive to some of the band’s more challenging numbers, like Oh Death, which was done a cappella on the Oh Brother! soundtrack, but works well as an accompanied song, especially if there is alcohol involved.
Somewhat remarkably for me, I liked Tarbox Ramblers so much live, that I bought their cd online. It’s an excellent supplement to their live performance. It gives you a chance to pay more attention to the vocals by lead singer Michael Tarbox, which tend to be drowned out in a bar. The band is at its best live, however.
To check out the band before their next performance, go to Amazon.com and do a search under Popular Music for Tarbox Ramblers; there are free downloads available of two of their songs, Jack of Diamonds and Third Jinx Blues.
Tarbox Ramblers’ next performance in Manchester will be…
