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Show Review
The band has blazed a trail full of loyal and happy audiences on the Eastern Seaboard, but it was apparent that they have some fans on the left coast as well. The Great American was full of fans that seemed to know what to expect, and I was one of them. Having these expectations, though, does not necessarily mean that they won’t be summarily exceeded. I came into the show a mute and passive fan, and I left an Eddie evangelist. The balance that EFO achieves at a live show is what we all might hope to achieve in life—fully feeling the harder and softer moments, while always remembering that it’s the laughter and playfulness that get you through. Many of the songs, including a new one about the young Bosnian girl mentioned above called “This Is Me,” plumb deeper and darker strata of emotions. But EFO won’t leave you somber long; they pull you back from the melancholy with songs like “One Thousands Sarahs”, a tirade against the perfect girl in every high school class. It has the kind of lyrics that make you chuckle:“And all the boys think she's pretty. And all the girls think she dresses swell.And all the teachers think that she's the smartest one in class, But I think- she oughta go to hell.”Their songwriting is about as non-traditional as it gets, as they spin affective yarns like “Bleecker to Broadway” while combining that with their own unique take on the world in songs like “Let’s Get Mesolithic” and “Stupid American.” They don’t just write songs about the big stuff that you think matters, they write songs about the little stuff that matters more than you might think. The band’s name has certainly puzzled a few EFO rookies, given that it has four members and they are based in Virginia. This is a question answered at the back of the stage – their talented percussionist Eddie Hartnett, who picked up the nickname from a friend despite his true Old Dominion roots. He was a solid presence on this night, in particular on a ten-minute drum solo that made you forget you were at a folk concert. Varied talents surround Eddie, starting with bassist Michael Clem and guitarist Robbie Schaefer. These two combine for a complex acoustic blend, giving the down-home melody a little uptown style when it’s called for. They also volley the storytelling baton back and forth, keeping the spaces between the songs full of anecdotal and one-liner laughs. The time between songs could’ve very well been a comedy show starring Clem and Schafer. Clem used his one and only song as lead singer to tell the hilarious tale of the aforementioned effeminate cowboy, and had the whole crowd singing along when they weren’t bent over laughing. Schaefer was the clear spokesman for the group, introducing most of the songs and keeping the audience giggling with his dry wit.But while these three gentlemen are the heart of this band, its lone lady plainly is the soul. Julie Murphy Wells delivered lead vocals like a rustic angel. She put the personality in the music, conveying goofiness in some tunes, heartbreak in others, gall in others still. Her rendition of the spiritual “Great Day” grabbed my gut and dropped my jaw—I was truly astounded by the emotion she wrought simply with the power of her voice. While singing “The Three Fine Daughters of Farmer Brown,” she suffused each of said daughters with quirks, all with a voice that whispered as well as it wailed. She was truly outstanding. In looking back on a show, you are left with certain impressions about the band and the experience of seeing them. The impression left on me after this Eddie from Ohio show rested squarely on my face—an ear-to-ear smile.
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A war-worn Bosnian girl and a cowboy who throws like a girl. No, that’s not the beginning of a joke or the character set in a new misfit comedy, but an indicator of the brilliant variety of songs brought by a folk foursome—enigmatically from Virginia—called Eddie from Ohio.
