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January 21, 2006
A Night at the Puppet House with Rick Frost and Gandalf Murphy and
the Slambovian Circus of Dreams
Listen to genius while reading.
Well Rick all I
can say is .. WOW.. and thank you!!! I quickly figured out who you
were when I saw a guy enter with long white hair through the doors
and someone called Rick.. after speaking with you on several
occasions, with your prior invitation to this show last fall that I
could unfortunately not make, I knew this man had to be you.
Upon entering this historical little theatre, passing through the
entrance and ticket area, we were almost catapulted into the main
theater by the bounce of the floor underneath us.. I didn't really
want to know what was down there.. but as we got into the theatre, I
saw a little coffee, wine, beer bar on the left with a table set up
for CDs and such.. where you could both buy and be PAID for YOUR CD
(Rick Frost's that is) (hahaha).. as well as purchase Gandalf's CD.
Through the smell of the 70's and haze of incense in the air I
looked around and saw we were also accompanied by strangers... may I
say that it was a nice mix of dynamite friendly people who you felt as though you could sit next to and bump elbows
with without the threat of your life being extinguished and also
some other strangers that were hanging on the walls... THE PUPPETS..
which is where I will let Brian take over this write up on our
terrific and memorable evening with great music and people .. and
puppets!!!! .. Brian is both my friend and musician, who I grabbed
last minute to come with me... I had heard he had a flair for
writing, but was not quite sure how much he would write.. or if I
would even like it.. read for your self.. :) Rick, I told you I
would come and try to bring a writer and a photographer.. well I
surely brought the writer.. the photographer wound up being me and
albeit I am no where near PROFESSIONAL. I took a lot of shots and
hope that at least SOME of them were able to catch the moment.
Thank you again Rick.. I will look forward to another evening like
this one!
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Here is part of the response I got from Rick..
"Oh yeah, little known fact, back around the turn of the century
(the last
one that is), somewhere around 1890, when Sebastiano Zupallo began
hand-carving all those puppets .... I was the model. Took forever
......." |
Kim Williams
CT Music Scene
The Night According to Brian
Brian Gillie
 It doesn’t help that I have a fear of puppets, defined in the
dictionary under “kooklafranolliephobia.” So when my friend
Kim called to say that the rising-star, talk-on-the-street band,
Gandalf Murphy and the Slambovian Circus of Dreams, was playing at
the Puppet House in Stony Creek, I winced before I acquiesced.
Perhaps I was comforted by the description from the Slambovian
website which confidently boasted, “you feel instantly at home …and they play to the audience as
if they knew you forever.” Worth a try! Sure enough, the
medieval marionettes and round-table knights hanging from the walls
inside the Puppet House, though beautifully crafted, were pretty
much the visual manifestation of what’s probably been hiding under
my bed since childhood. The one puppet closest to me caught my
eye and warned me to never look into his eyes again. I obeyed.
Turns out the
puppet theme was quite an appropriate setting for what was about to
unfold. Local artist, Rick Frost, took the stage as th e
warm-up act. Consummately “folksy,” Rick and his tall, thin
frame and Edgar Winter hair were quite in character with that of the
bestringed knights. If Rick had been hanging from the wall, I
doubt we would have noticed. But Rick immediately engaged the crowd
with his congenial banter, dry humor and nimble licks on the
acoustic guitar. With a nod to the year of the “dog” he began
his self-penned tunes with “Dog Ditti,” complete with howls.
But the light intro belied a man on a poetic mission, and his
politics and spirituality came through on the wings of some powerful
lyrics as evidenced by “Homeless Joe” and “I Threw My Cell Phone in
the Ocean Today” which he delivered in a vocal style somewhere
between Arlo Guthrie and Elvin Bishop, a nice balance between
sarcasm and genuine worldly concern. The package was effective and
had us revved for the main event.
The Slambovian
stage was a visual feast, bordered by red oriental lanterns and an
orange  “Chinese-styled”
dog frolicking on the backsplash. Nine guitars, a cello and a
mandolin stood at attention in the orange light, and two accordions
and a flute reclined nearby. In back, a 1920s’ drum set sat
like a relic from the Paul Whiteman band, but instead of Paul’s
rotund face silhouetted on the bass drum head, it was the Slambovian Circus of Dreams logo that peered back at us – a clown face with a
Mono Lisa smile. The quintet
took up their positions. On the left, Tink looked as though
she had stepped off the stage of Celtic Women sporting a  shy
demeanor, petite physique and blonde, shoulder-length
hair with its ‘60s’ retro part down the middle, a “doo” fashion
statement that found plenty of sisterhood through the predominantly
boomer-aged crowd. Front man/lead singer/rhythm guitarist, Joziah,
with sculpted ‘stasche and ‘tee, black bowler, flowing black coat,
John Lennon glasses and Frank Zappa “posing” looked like he had just
dropped from his Amish carriage, tied the horse to the rail and
wandered into the hall. Drummer, Tony, with scruffy beard, sat
poised with his part seasoned lu mberjack, part blue collar
Springsteen look, trying unsuccessfully to hide his excitement.
And on the right, lead guitarist, Sharkey, was a separated-at-birth,
Donovan look-alike, with big hair and a little boy smile, surrounded
by the army of guitars and the AWOL mandolin. A mysterious
fifth musician silently
entered and exited from the wings throughout the evening with a bass
guitar so commanding that it nearly hid his thin frame from the
audience. His Kurt Cobain, heartthrob presence had all the
women craning their necks to get a better look I heard a
girl pining that she wouldn’t mind meeting him in a dark alley
somewhere, even though he was young enough to be Joziah’s son; and,
of course, it turns out he was. All in all it was very
appealing presence!
Joziah began his
crowd-friendly onslaught with personal stories of the group’s recent
tour of New York and New Jersey playing the Christmas circuit. To
prove their versatility they presented their rock version of “Carol
of the Bells,” ala Mannheim Steamroller, which showcased Sharkey’s
riff dexterity and the group’s ability to morph seamlessly from
familia r holiday melody into original rock stomp. Toward the
end of the night they effectively morphed two more originals into
Beatles' choruses: “A Day in the Life” and “Hey, Jude,” both offering a rising tide of sing-along fun.
And the audience
had plenty of chances to participate throughout the performance. In
“Broken Heart” the simple repetitive chorus was a natural for
participation and brought home the powerful emotional impact of the
lyric to all who joined in. We all learned how to yodel and
received enough practice to successfully chirp our
“lay-del-lee-dels” as the piece accelerated to break-neck speed
toward the finish line. We got to sing “Hound Dog” and
accompany a flawless rendition of the Turtles’ bubblegum classic,
“Happy Together.” The party was ON!
But the majesty
of the performance lay in the Joziah’s gravelly voice and thestellar guitar playing of Sharkey. Joziah’s spoken and melodic
delivery spanked the rafters with an appealing, Leon Redbone/Randy
Newman style that would have made “Frogman” Henry do a double-take.
The voice made Joziah’s gift of storytelling, both during and between
tunes, nothing short of mesmerizing. Even when the monologues
rambled rather aimlessly, poking fun at himself or pointing out the  stupidities of life, we were hanging on every word; and the
mischievous sparkle that peeked out from every wink and grin
confirmed the boast that “conversation” would feel like old friends
swapping tales. His sandpaper pipes were especially effective
on a lovely spiritual offering titled, “Talkin’ to the Buddah” and
the dramatic, “Sunday in the Rain.”
Sharkey had
tamed his guitar
to behave like a
Berlioz
symphony, a
Sneeky Pete
Kleinow pedal
steel, a raw
Chuck Berry and
a screaming Led
Zeppelin, but it
was his Van
Halen-like
dexterity and
invention that
lifted us to
unanticipated  heights.
His relentless
attack on the
“Tribute to the
Who,” “Moondog
House” and the
concert-ending,
“Lullaby,” all
epic pieces,
satisfied with
the confidence of a
highly trained
warrior on a
tactical
pursuit.
The intensity
mounted as
Sharkey found
new ways to
bend, sting and
assault with his
ax. The
swirl of sound
released in the
small space
packed enough
energy to toss
us like sparrows
in a tornado and
to lift the
entire historic
structure off of
its foundation,
along with our
spirits and
souls. Tony’s
Bolero-like
march rhythms
kept the cyclone
on course, and
the climaxes
left us both
exhilarated and
exhausted.
Chords from
Tink’s accordion
oozed like
golden chinking
to keep the heat
from leaving the
space.  Their eclectic
mix or sights and sounds declared a music-formulas-be-damned
attitude, but not for shock value. By keeping true to their
art and their hearts they floated some of the most amazing musical
surprises we’ve heard in these parts: refreshing
nonconformists offering new glimpses of reality and spirituality
from exciting new perspectives.
The group’s new
release titled, Flapjacks from the Sky, is receiving
exceptional reviews from the critics and fans. Check them out
on their website: www.slambovia.com
more pics.... |
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