Like a travelling circus, Jesse Malin, Hollis Brown and Don Dilego are moving from town to town giving every venue they hit a small taste of the hip New York barroom music scene.
It becomes increasingly obvious over nearly four hours of music that these three acts know each other, like each othe, and can easily step in and play with each other.
Don Dilego unassumingly steps onto the stage and thanks the audience for turning up early, before rewarding them for their punctuality with a selection of sweet soulful songs of redemption and lost love, ‘Television Sun’ being a particular standout.
No sooner has Dilego left the stage than Hollis Brown (who’ve appropriated the name from Bob Dylan’s ‘Ballad of…’) really gives the assembled crowd a taste of what a hard working Queens act can do.
Though unquestionably an out and out rock ‘n’ roll band they exude a slick, calm confidence in their approach, which evokes a Cold Roses era Ryan Adams and The Cardinals style, yet with an underlying professional powerhouse sound reminiscent of Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers.
Singer Mike Montali has a howling yet sweetly emotive voice, which is masterfully backed up by the ardent guitar playing of Jonathan Bonilla on the raggedly beautiful ‘Ride on the Train’ and new tune ‘Sweet Teeth’.
At an hour most other bands would be thinking about winding up their set and heading back on the tour bus is exactly the moment Jesse Malin enters under low lights and blasts into the sublime ‘Queen of the Underworld’, which he follows up with ‘Wendy’, a rough version (he’s been having throat trouble) yet how much of himself he throws into it testifies as to why the room is near bursting.
There is almost no time to breath between songs as Malin, appearing to have no planned set list, directs the band through ‘Riding on the Subway’, ‘Hotel Columbia’, The Ramones’ ‘Do You Remember Rock n’ Roll Radio?’ and ‘She Don’t Love Me Now’ co-written by Sam Cooke and one of Malin’s many, many ex-girlfriends and to which his voice is strangely suited to.
As ‘Almost Grown’ looks like it is about to bring the house down the band move into ‘Bar Life’, which Malin builds up in typical fashion only to bring it down, jump into the audience and encourage everyone to kneel down with him as he regales them with a suitably dirty bar room joke.
Malin finally responds to the gift of a t-shirt thrown onto the stage earlier in the set which states, ‘Glasgow as Fuck’ and this in many ways shows the respectful two way relationship between Malin and his audience in both the act and the heartfelt response it provokes.
Having already played a robust set list of nearly twenty songs with a busted throat, he returns for the encore and requests that the audience help him through ‘Brooklyn’, which they more than accommodate with a word perfect rendition.
The audience are treated to spirited covers of Lou Reed’s ‘Sally Can’t Dance’ and Dylan’s ‘You Ain’t Going Nowhere’ before (what he intended to be) his exit is put on hold as guitarist Derek Cruz whispers that one fan desperately wants to hear ‘Solitaire’.
Many would apologise, likely blame their throat trouble and walk off, however Jesse Malin is about to do no such thing, obligingly (and no doubt painfully) playing a beautiful version, the crowd appreciating every strain and groan, the sweat he’s put on that stage.
How could he leave anyone disappointed? How could he let anyone leave without hearing their favourite song of his?
He and this audience are old friends after all.
Words: David Mcphee
Photos: Alexander Gibson
