Somehow I was able to get floor seats, smack in the middle of the room. I actually was not aware of their recently released album on Nonesuch — the fact that they had (or had not) recently written music together had no influence on my desire to see the two of those musicians. I have been a fan of Edgar Meyer’s for over ten years. Over that time, I have left his concerts ranking the experience as one of my favorite live experiences ever, whether that was in Columbus, Ohio when I saw him team up with Bela Fleck and Mike Marshall to play the beautiful songs from their Uncommon Ritual album. Or it was the sublime music on that last hot and dusty day from the first Bonnaroo — when they brought the rain. Or it was the treat of seeing Edgar and Mike Marshall, again, share their enthusiasm for twenty or so teenage string musicians after a week of classes.
On the other hand, I had never seen Chris Thile live before. I knew of Nickel Creek, and appreciate his playing, but it was not until I purchased his recent baroque masterpiece with the Punch Brothers that I have had this strong desire to listen to his brand of traditional American music.
At the risk of sounding trite, the concert was almost perfect. Other than during Caprice no. 4, when I felt as though Mark O’Connor’s violin and Thile’s mandolin were somewhat indecipherable, I really can not find fault with the two-and-a-half hours of music. Sure, Thile can be a bit goofy in his banter, and they had to tune their instruments quite a bit, but those issues are quite insignificant. What they played for us were joy and passion-fueled original songs, mixed with some hundreds of years old Classical pieces (and a few choice covers).
Meyer, on the bass, held the low end for the most part, moving down the neck to offer his own unique brand of fiddle-like double bass. He would often bow his music, hastily placing his bow on a stool to pluck ever so often. Thile offered the role of playing the high-end, sometimes with his mandolin sounding like a piano. The songs were often structured with one musician playing the rhythm, or structure, of the song while the other filled in the holes, sometimes trading off within the same song. These were pieces in complex time signatures, with carefully placed holes for one of the two instruments. Often, the tempo would speed from a slow, languid pace into a fast, dexterous time signature — like in Farmer and the Duck, one of a number of the songs from their recent release. Rabbit Cake was another, that combined lightning fast bowing from Meyer and exacting picking from Thile. As contrast, a moment was set aside in the first set to play three short but incredibly sweet Bach pieces.
Now, it was in the program… and my wife claims it was on the website. But I somehow missed the announcement of Mark O’Connor as a special guest. I was too caught up in the two headliners, I guess. But Mark indeed came out for three songs in the second set as well as for the encore. And while he only played for four songs, the change in the room was palpable when he joined in.
A day before the concert, during an interview on WNYC’s Soundcheck, John Schaefer asked Meyer and Thile about playing in a duo with two extremes, double bass and mandolin. Meyer talked about his affinity for playing with mandolin and Thile alluded to how Edgar plays all of the bass, from top to bottom. And I must say that they certainly cover quite a range. But when the virtuous playing of O’Connor was added to the mix, it was quite special. Particularly on the gorgeous One Winter’s Night, which Meyer and O’Connor wrote 19 years ago and is featured on the epic Strength In Numbers release. Slow, lyrical, subtle. The highlight of the night for me. The show ended with an rousing version of Sweet Georgia Brown, which essentially became an extended practice on follow the leader, with each of the three musicians throwing something out there for the other two to build from.
During intermission, I overheard a man talking with his date, who had brought him to the show. He was trying to explain to her how he found the music inaccessible. He just “didn’t get it.” “There was no cohesion,” he said, and then went on to reference his like for jazz and the role of the bass player. And on some basic level, I guess I can understand where he is coming from. This music on Wednesday night was not simple bluegrass. It was not simple at all. Nor did the individual pieces logically connect with the other musician’s — but the beauty came in how those pieces worked as a whole, how they spun in and out of each other, twisting from fast and jaw-dropping to slow and moving.
Throughout the night, the two musicians stared at each other, smiled, gestured, egging each other on. Meyer hugging his bass, crouching almost, effortlessly moving his fingers — and thumb — up and down the neck. Thile, somehow so exact and fast at the same time, plucking each of those individual strings while he danced on one foot, lunging even, smiling like some sort of jester. While from the same family, this was not the pleasing music of the Ebony Hillbillies that offered some shining light on a Friday morning. This was the music of masters, in Carnegie Hall, challenging both themselves and the listener. By our smiles and the startled laughs that my wife and I shared after leaving the Hall that brisk October evening, it was clearly a challenge that made us feel alive and happy to be able to experience music like this in person.
Edgar Meyer and Chris Thile, with Mark O’Connor
10.29.08
Carnegie Hall, New York, New YorkSet 1: Edgar song, Chris song, Farmer and the Duck, I Wasn’t Talking to You, Smoothie Song (?), Bach organ duet, Bach French gavotte, Bach rondo, Just as Well, Fourth Movement from concert duo
Set 2: This is the Pig, Rabbit Cake, Ham & Cheese, G-22 (?) with Mark O’Connor, One Winter’s Night with Mark, Caprice no. 4 in D maj with Mark, Bach prelude, 13, Fence Post in the Fromt Yard
Encore: Sweet Georgia Brown with Mark
