Review: Richmond Fontaine

Fernando Viciconte was last seen in town supporting the mighty Dan Stuart and played that gig solo. For this opening slot he was joined by Dan Eccles for a thoroughly entertaining set of a half a dozen or so songs. Viciconte – Argentinian by birth and now resident in Portland, Oregon – is a damn good song writer, penning narrative songs about life and with a justifiable seam of frustration with the state of the world. True Instigator is a classic example. Introduced with Viciconte’s admission that he and his family had been illegal residents for a number of years and referencing the current state of American politics; it was delivered with real bite and the pretty chorus and melody belied the righteous anger in the lyric. Wisemen, sung in Spanish, referenced the tens of thousands disappeared by the Argentine junta and both anger and sadness could be felt in the music and words.

Viciconte plays decent acoustic – picking and strumming – and all of the tunes were beautifully enhanced by Eccles’ playing. Clearly following a less is more credo he embellished the tunes with some tremendously understated yet powerful guitar; emphasising lyrical lines, building the tension with the attack and release of some sweet tremolo and generally proving that it’s possible to make a Telecaster cry. Dogs was the set’s takeaway tune, a nagging refrain and an earworm melody but run a close second by the achingly pretty Kingdom Come. A tribute to a fallen comrade Jimmy Boyer was heartfelt and generous and the closing cover of Hank William’s Angel of Death was chilling and yet strangely uplifting. Viciconte deserves to be playing to a wider audience and it would be a fine thing to see him back with a full band too.

Mötley Crüe have signed a contract that legally prevents them from every playing under that name again (hurrah!), meanwhile this is allegedly the final tour by Richmond Fontaine and after their performance one can’t but think they should sign a contract legally binding them to continue performing. For ever. The four piece line up of Willy Vlautin: vocals, acoustic and electric guitars; Freddy Trujillo: bass & vocals; Dan Eccles: lead guitar and Sean Oldham: drums & vocals, whipped up a storm of guitar driven vignettes chronicling 21^st century American life. It would easy to pick out influences but the band have outstripped their predecessors and left their peers standing to forge a sound of their own.

The band played getting on for twenty songs including over half the new LP You Can’t Go Back if There’s Nothing to Go Back To mixing in cuts from their twenty odd year career. Opening sides Wake Up Ray and I Got Off the Bus were relatively mellow and kinda laid back but then things kicked up a gear with Lonnie and it got…rowdy. Eccles still played as much beautiful weeping tremolo as with Viciconte but also peppered the set with frankly wild sheets of sheet-metal guitar, burning solos and spooked out cyber country licks; reaching a (musical) climax with set closers Lost in the Trees and Willamette, pounding the crowd in to joyful submission. Of course it wasn’t just about the guitars, Oldham is a skilful and powerful drummer, at home with the brushes on the quieter acoustic numbers (particularly the plaintive Don’t Skip Out on Me) and capable of driving the beat with skill and finesse. He somehow managed to pack in plenty of fills and rolls without sacrificing the beat, particularly on Lost in the Trees. Trujillo has a real feel for the bass, his playing funky and understated and yet forcing it’s way to the front of a tune when necessary. Both he and Oldham added in some subtle harmony vocals on many of the numbers, complimenting Vlautin’s husky rasp.

For all the sturm und drang there were bucket-loads of laughs as whilst Vlautin may have the whole Americana Noir lyric thang down pat he’s also natural comedian. He had us believe that he and Eccles bonded whilst getting full back tattoos – the latter going for a panther whilst the former had a portrait of his favourite band Poison. Of course. He also had Trujillo in stiches when referring to him as an old, old jazz man in a young man’s body. Lyrically Vlautin is excellent, his words telling tales from the American underbelly, tales you know will at best end in disappointment and desolation; or possibly in tragedy. A Night in the City was the exemplar, a poignant aching tale of a careworn workingman’s “…one night of rebellion that just ends up being a drag…”

A three song encore was opened with a song the band had to perform as an instrumental due to the litigious nature of the lyrics, words so litigious in fact that best I not even name the tune. And then they were done – band grinning and laughing, crowd sated and another superb CRH promotion at the Tunnels over and done. Now where’s that contract…

All pix by John Morgan