Son Volt takes Tokyo

Son Volt
March 31, 2006
Duo Music Exchange
Tokyo, Japan

Brothers and sisters in the Glorious Church of Jay Farrar, you might recall that not even one year ago I prayed to our glorious Jay that He might see fit to come spread His glorious Light here in Japan. Being that our Jay is a benevolent Jay, He grantethed my prayer, even though I am not worthy, bringing his Word to Shibuya's Duo Music Exchange Friday night, His name be praised.

But, brothers and sisters, I was blessed far beyond even the healing presence of our glorious Jay. The Jay smileth upon me in multitude, guiding me to a venue Friday night where I found (a) it was small and cozy and wonderful (and apparently I have the dude from Jamiroquai to thank for that, as he designed the place, oddly enough) and (b) even though it was only a half hour before showtime, no one had claimed a huge chunk of prime front-row real estate yet. So, brothers and sisters, totally unexpectedly I was in the front row for the blessed Event. Another miracle for which we must thank the Jay is that I managed somehow not to pee my pants when I realized how close I was about to be to His glorious Light.

And the Light, brothers and sisters ... well, it rocked furiously. The show started with "Jet Pilot," which merged seamlessly both thematically and melodically into "Endless War," both from last year's "Okemah and the Melody of Riot." The set list drew heavily from that album, naturally, but there also was a generous helping of songs from past Son Volt incarnations, a couple from the glorious Jay's solo albums (both from "Sebastopol" -- I was a bit surprised there was nothing from "Terroir Blues," though far be it from me to question the Jay), and, in a pair of encores (I told you He is a benevolent Jay!), a delicious, delicious taste of the Uncle Tupelo catalog.

Our Jay seemed well pleased this night, thanking the crowd not once but several times and even responding in a full, kindly sentence to one English-speaking audience member's shouted assertion that He rocks. I kept remembering back to the first time I saw Son Volt perform, back in 1998 or 1999, I think -- a show that likewise rocked mightily, but during which our glorious Jay, for reasons known only to Him, muttered "thanks" once and said nothing else for the rest of the show, which I believe may have been encoreless. That crowd, clearly, was highly unworthy of Jay's Love. Interestingly, I was looking (indirectly, of course, as anyone who looks directly upon the Jay who is not pure of soul instantly will turn to sand) at the Jay Friday night and thinking that his hair (on head and facial) looked exactly the same then as it did when I saw him perform seven or eight years before. Which led me to the following revelation, Jay be praised:

The Glorious Jay Farrar shaves his head and face every night before his Glorious Repose (Jay Farrar doesn't sleep. He waits.) and every morning, his hair has grown back exactly the same. When mortals try to cut the Jay's hair, their scissors bend and melt, and the stylist turns to sand (unless he or she is of purified soul).

I know that it is so, for at the exact moment I was thinking it, the glorious Jay Farrar lookethed upon me (which is OK -- he can look at me directly and chose either to turn me to sand or to spare me) for a split second. And so, brothers and sisters ... I am Blessed. Because I was beheld by the seemingly all-black eyes of the glorious Jay and did not turn to sand, which means in some slight way I must be worthy. I believe the Jay spared me from turning to sand because He wishes me to spread His Word, so let me continue.

The Jay was assisted by the same pure-souled, gloriously rockin' apostles that recorded "Okemah" -- Brad Rice on guitar (and about four inches from my face for most of the show), Andrew Duplantis on bass and Dave Bryson on drums. Also a dude on keyboards and maracas, probably someone hired just for the Japan tours whose name the glorious Jay seemed to at least partially forget, which just goes to show you the howling darkness one lives in when one is not pure of soul. This keyboardist is lucky he did not turn to sand. Anyway, the rest of the apostles played with the feel of a band that had found its groove together. They've recorded the album, they've played its songs all over the world, and apparently this was the last show before they all head back into the studio together to start work on another album (tentatively slated for a spring 2007 release, according to the Son Volt official Web site.). There were no flubbed notes or entrances, no surprises (not the bad kind, anyway, except maybe once when the Jay banged His glorious head on the microphone between songs), no need to waggle eyebrows desperately to send coded messages during jams and a very cool feedback contest between guitarist Rice and the Jay. That's not to say things were mechanical. Rather, it seemed each band member was comfortable, which means each could push envelopes and rock hard without fear of not knowing when or where to return.

We humble worshippers were treated to TWO encores, the last completely rocking the town apart with a cover of Blue Oyster Cult's "Godzilla" (heh heh, nice touch) and then Uncle Tupelo's "Chickamauga." And then, with a wave and a smile, and some handshakes for folks on the front row (alas, I was on the wrong end of the stage, which is kind of OK because had I been touched by the glorious Jay I'm certain I would have turned to sand), He was gone.

But He still had some miracles in store for this lowly believer. As the roadies started clearing the stage, I was able to catch one's eye, remember two key words of Japanese (drawing from my vast, 15-word vocabulary), and ask for the set list. So, brothers and sisters, you may look upon this artifact, and know that the glorious Jay loves you, and shall answer your prayers if only your soul is prepared to rock most furiously:

Go forth and rock out. In Jay Farrar's Glorious Name we pray: Hells yes.