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- Clarence "Gatemouth" Brown
January 29, 2004
Cactus Café
Austin, TX
- By Danté Dominick
-
 It's funny how some people seem
physically taller than they actually are. Clarence Gatemouth
Brown's lanky frame and black, felt cowboy hat lend toward tall
thoughts. Gate isn't short, but reference his height with others
close by and it's clear he'd nary come to Ray Benson's chin just
like the rest of us. Yet Mr. Brown, fact-check in place, still
appears to stand taller than everyone around him. Perhaps the
all black attire from boots to hat -- his western shirt splayed
wonderfully with flashy strokes of red and white -- adds to the
illusion. But I am not taken with fashion; never have been.
There's a chance it could be this: if it were necessary to
identify one individual who best represents American music in
all of its idioms and styles, one who could single-handedly play
the soundtrack that has sprung forth from a nation born from
hopes, sweat, fears, blood, misdeeds and glory, a land that grew
an unheralded voice as it expanded westward and cultures clashed,
cultures united, cultures bore new means of expressing their
emotions -- things called the blues, jazz, honky-tonk and Cajun
-- if we needed one person who lives and breathes all things
American music and can present it in all its varied glory, Clarence
Gatemouth Brown is that person. That's pretty tall stature.
And so it is with a sense of awe that Gate looms large in a tiny
acoustic concert room, the Cactus Café, on the University
of Texas campus in Austin. In a professional career that dates
back to the 1940s, Gate has never toured with a combo this small:
an acoustic trio of himself, bass and second guitarist. Gate
likes best to carry amps, drums and horns a-plenty along for
the musical ride, but here we have the closest we'll get to hearing
the man play on his porch at home in the West Louisiana bayou.
To say the 150 patrons in the standing room only crowd were
witnessing a treat is like saying it can get a little warm in
the Texas summer: understatement anyone?
Brown will turn 80 this year, so his slow amble to the stage
could be expected, but it is soon apparent Gate's gait is about
the only thing diminishing. Few musicians alive can equal Brown's
legacy and even fewer retain musical talents still in their prime.
I've been to my fair share of shows by legends -- folks who
have wielded incalculable influence on generations of musicians
and rock and rollers -- and the sense of respect is there. Undeniable
glee, however, is mixed with the inevitable thought, "wow,
if only I could've seen them 30 years ago"
This thought never had a prayer of surfacing during Gate's
show. His fingers party like a college kid on break all over
the strings of his guitar and violin. Opening with a mid-tempo
swing instrumental, Gate introduces us to the audio gumbo we're
about to ingest starting out swamp-funky and continuing with
that mood for the first vocal tune of the evening, a spooky blues
number inviting his woman to leave him or love him, just make
up her mind. The song, "Strange Things Happening,"
was the first of three in a row from the 1999 big-band release,
American Music, Texas Style, before going back to the
1950s, "when rock and roll was rock and roll instead of
rock and noise," with a 12-bar shuffle called "Honky
Tonk."
His guitar technique is piercing, using a thin tone that imparts
a twangy feel whether he's playing the jump blues, swing jazz,
bayou boogie or, most often, some conglomeration of it all.
With cutting ferocity he attacks a tune and tears up the lead
in a manner that leaves the audience ducking only to massage
the tune back to a more delicate repose like he's rocking his
baby to sleep. It's a treat to watch both his right and left
hands at work. His style of picking is rather unorthodox with
his forefinger doing most of the work, gliding from the top strings
to the bottom and utilizing his thumb intermittently, far less
than most fingerpickers.
Gate was joined on stage with Harold Floyd, who has played
bass with him for 20 years this February, and John Fohl, a guitarist
quite a few decades Gate's junior whose busy schedule includes
touring with Dr. John. Floyd's stalwart accompaniment and proficiency
at making the walking bass lines swing provides for a simple
conclusion why Gate hasn't looked for a new bassist in two decades.
Fohl ranks as a superb soloist in his own right, encompassing
the entire fretboard in a distinctively jazz-rooted style that
is a bit more polished than Gate's. And so gripping guitar remained
even when Gate set his own down to pick up his fiddle, displaying
his virtuosity on another medium and opening up paths to bring
in more musical spices. His range is broad, but blues is definitely
the roots. It seemed to surprise some folks when he donned the
fiddle for the first time, blues violin not being the most prolific
of styles. The blues violin would indeed make an appearance
later, but for now Gate got to stewing with a splendid country
bayou number that tasted of Bob Wills and BeauSoleil simultaneously.
Gate requested the house to turn up the lights at the onset
of the evening so he could see his audience. Initially expressing
concerns about bringing out the full sound without the full band,
he settled in as the first set carried on and clearly started
to enjoy the rapport afforded by the small settings, amiably
joking with audience members who were obviously delighted with
the back and forth dialogue. Once, when resting his arm across
his knee in a storytelling posture, Gate brushed his guitar strings
and scolded his instrument for the interruption, "oh, shut
up!" This elicited hearty laughter prompting Gate to conclude
aloud, "this is easier than I thought." The crowd
was clearly in his pocket.
The banter also served a more practical purpose: Gate's fingers
and skills show no signs of age, but Old Man Time grants eternal
youth to no one. Brown needed some time to catch his breath,
especially after vocal numbers, and rightly so for he sang in
a robust baritone much stronger than his speaking voice. The
decades wouldn't allow Brown the vivacious delivery that livened
numbers like 1954's "Midnight Hour" during Gate's 17-year
stint with Peacock Records in Houston. Less dynamic in cadence
and range, Gate is nonetheless still capable of mustering impressive
strength and richness from his distinctive voice.
 After a modest
break, during which folks bought plenty of CDs with Brown on
hand to autograph and chat, came a second set that proved even
more enjoyable than the first. The fiddle made more appearances
much to the pleasure of everyone in the room. In addition to
an outpouring of pure beauty during the blues and unrestrained
playfulness for some hoedown numbers, Gate wielded his fiddle
in manners of pure showmanship, hanging on to uncommonly high
pitches and entreating descending and ascending glissandos at
whim. At times he would set down the bow after Fohl provided
a stellar solo to pick the fiddle like a guitar. When his legitimate
guitar was back in hand he sometimes made a drum out of it.
Drumming with his hand and fingers on the neck, still imparting
tone out of the strings, while he rapped the guitar's body with
his forearm, utilizing his sleeve's snap-buttons against the
wood to mimic a hi-hat.
In a set that covered tunes by Duke Ellington, Count Basie,
Hank Williams, Bob Wills, Ray Charles, Muddy Waters, and Dolly
Parton as well as originals, the trio left no stone unturned.
There is an indefinable feeling from attending a great concert.
Sound is, quite simply, vibrations and music's vibrations have
a way of penetrating a body and instilling an internal hum.
Needless to say the hum remained for some time on this particular
evening and the added dimension imparted by the performer's significance
to the evolution of American music clearly made the night unforgettable.
Impressive in the past and impressive in the present, Gate promises
to be impressive in the future as well. He's not sure what the
exact line-up will be, but he's ready to start recording a new
disc, "real soon."
www.gatemouth.com
dominick-at-rockzilla.net
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