Music |
Ryan Shaw: Live
By
Published: Jan 01, 2008
Category:
Soul
Ryan Shaw
Highline Ballroom, New York
March 12, 2008
Video
Do the 45
As we were driving downtown, John Mayer came on the radio, doing Message in a Bottle.
He sounded just like The Police, only breathier and, if possible, duller.
“Why?” I asked, in a tone that suggested this was not a question.
My wife, looking always to find the good, suggested some reasons. People liked the song, but were tired of Sting; here was a fresh way to enjoy it. Or he recorded this for kids who only sorta knew The Police, so for them it was all new. And for his hardcore fans, anything he sang was catnip.
Funny that I would rail against cover versions — that’s mostly what Ryan Shaw does. He is, as I have recently written, a throwback to the Golden Age of Soul, when giants like Otis Redding and Wilson Pickett strode the earth and Stevie Wonder had just lost the “Little” before his name. Shaw sings their songs, without tricks. His trick is transparent urgency — he’s got so much intensity that you get swept up by the song and the singer.
And that’s just the This is Ryan Shaw CD.
Live, I was told, he’s even better.
At the Highline, a new club that’s a B-12 shot to the sad New York music scene, Ryan Shaw came onstage in white jeans, a yellow “I Love Bustelo” t-shirt and a white jacket. He wore white sneakers. With his dreads pulled back and knotted, he looked like a hospital attendant.
But then he sang.
And any problem I had about singing other people’s songs vanished.
He began with Many Rivers to Cross, the Jimmy Cliff anthem. Every word was articulated, chewed, bitten, snapped — the singer was living those hard years. Nice way to get an audience’s total attention.
His band came on. A thin white guitarist, correct in all-black and an armful of tattoos. A big bass player, in a stocking cap. A solid drummer. Together, they did Looking for a Love — and, again, the intensity of the search made me forget my long familiarity with the song.
The set rolled on, Shaw working the audience like the son of the Pentecostal minister he is. When he sang a modified version of “Let It Be”, there was no question the lyrics were more than pretty words. And when he talked about writing songs…. well, I can’t find anything to criticize about a guy who says, “I go to the bottom of the groove, and I ask the groove: What do you want to be?”
Ryan Shaw paces himself well. Everything he does is marked URGENT: DELIVER AT ONCE, but you can’t do 90 minutes of that without wearying an audience. Shaw smartly stepped off-stage so his guitarists could take solos, and his guitarists were so accomplished and creative you almost didn’t miss him. Then he was back. From there on… madness.
Did he dare, as he asked an interviewer in Jamaica, to sing “the King’s music in the King’s land”? He did, and the Bob Marley song he chose was Redemption Song — sacred music. He honored it.
Did he dare to sing Otis Redding? Even that. And of all the choices, he picked Try A Little Tenderness — a song so identified with Redding that it takes some stones even to attempt it. Shaw crushed it. He strutted, stomped, shouted, shook. And when no words were equal to the emotions, he left language behind, and, as I thought only Redding could do, he went into the zone of pure sound.
His encore was just as outrageous, maybe more: Janis Joplin’s Piece of My Heart. You don’t go there, you just don’t, but Shaw plunged in. And triumphed.
From the heights, where do you go? Shaw slammed into Do the 45, a straight-ahead dance number that starts his CD. Soon enough, the kids who were twisting in their chairs were up and dancing. Then we all were. Even some waitresses danced — and I can’t recall the last time I’ve witnessed that.
I’ve seen a lot of shows, and I’ve been ridden hard and put up wet by performers before. But outside of Josh Ritter‘s gigs, I rarely get to see radiance — a joy that goes beyond the pleasure of grabbing an audience and holding it in your palm. Ryan Shaw has that deep, deep bliss. He believes in God, and he believes in himself, and he is on a mission to get somewhere. He signifies. He testifies. He represents. In the process, he thrills and inspires.
To buy “This Is Ryan Shaw” from Amazon.com, click here.
To read more about Ryan Shaw on HeadButler.com, click here.
For Ryan Shaw’s web site, click here.
