José González
By Peter A. Holden
Monday. May 01, 3:16 AM
live at Joe's Pub (New York, NY) March 28th, 2006.

(photos by Shannon Clifton 2006)

As seems to be the usual pattern with me these days, every time I am slated to go see a show, I find myself unmistakably tired when it comes time to make the drive into the city. Last night, yes, this was again the case. But I really, really wanted to see this show, so I battled my urge to climb into bed to watch TV, curl up into a fetal ball, and sleep early. I’m a grandpa in the body of a 26 year-old. Anyway, I managed to workout, shower, change, and shovel some wholesome Captain Crunch into my system before picking up a buddy of mine. I had only heard a few snippets of this guy’s work, but knew from minute one, sort of instinctually, that this was a show not to miss.

Upon cruising into Manhattan and parking in my usual space down on Forsyth (little known fact: if you don’t mind a comfortable walk, Forsyth St. has consistently never let me down for parking. Perfectly placed in the East Village and very safe. Wait, I probably shouldn’t be announcing this), my friend Shannon and I walked over to Joe’s Pub on Lafayette, basically at Astor Place if you are familiar. Joe’s Pub is a pretty unique joint. A total misnomer, it is only a pub in that there is booze and food. In all other respects, this is a pretty posh place with a classy – and classic – feel. It is a fantastic venue for all sorts of music, very comfortable and reasonably priced. The interior still has all the original architecture of the late 19th century style. As I said, very classy, but not too pretentious.

We parked our butts at a semicircle table that was right up against the stage, just in time to see the opening act. Dawn Landes is a soft-spoken yet powerfully songwriter. She was accompanied onstage by a multi-musician who sings, drums, plays various percussive instruments and harmonica. But the focus, of course, was on Dawn. She has a voice similar to that of Karen O of Yeah Yeah Yeahs during her less caustically sultry moments. She yields a soft voice that appears masked in fragility till she lets out a firm belt. Most importantly, though, there’s an undeniable catch-ability (yes, I’m coining that term) to her music. Quirky but receivable melodies, Dawn has a charisma and grace that makes somewhat obscure note intervals seem completely popish. She has a modesty onstage that is refreshing, at one point remarking, “Can we turn the lights down a bit? I’m really hot but I don’t want to take my scarf off… cuz I look cool with it on. Let’s just be honest. (laughs)” Her set was a nice warm up to what I was hoping would be a good performance from Mr. José González.

But sadly I was wrong. I say “sadly” because, well, it’s sad just how wrong I was. I underestimated him completely. He was PHENOMENAL. Might I even go so far as to say fucking phenomenal to take it up one more notch? Yes. And proudly. José González is a Swedish born, Argentinean Elliott Smith in many ways, minus much of the desperate, desperate morbid heartache but with just as much longing and a good deal more hope. He seethes cool and calm intimacy, breathes effervescence, and draws you in like a soft bed after a 72-hour stint of being awake. In my experience of seeing a bajillion shows, I think I can safely count on one hand how many I have seen where I don’t find myself checking the clock. Even if I love the artist to DEATH, after a while I still find myself wondering when they will finish, even if just to know. But once in a rare evening I’ll go see a show and, before I know it, they say “this will be the last song” and there I am spellbound and stunned, wondering where the hour-or-so went.

González’ music is a testament to years of practice, hours of love and devotion to his craft, and – best of all – a real penchant for delving into his emotion with beautiful integrity. There’s a kind of magic to his songs. Short but incredibly sweet and perfect. Not arguably perfect, but perfect. He writes like a punk band stuffed into the body of a folk singer. His songs come right at you right away, with melodies that are as smart as they are immediate. Every song is a delicate yet confident reminder of things you probably know all too well. “Lovestain” is a song about, well, the marks left on us by love. And “Heartbeats” is as much a heartbeat in rhythm as it is in words.

Earlier I said he’s an Elliott Smith. Don’t be fooled by that remark. He is similar in a few key ways, but so very, very unique in many others. His skill and prowess with the classical guitar can probably only be compared to that of Elliott Smith’s. The man has perfect pitch, so much so that, with a wild flick of his finger picking and some quick spins of his left hand, in three seconds he has detuned the guitar flawlessly. His fingers strum with an accuracy that makes it look easy. His soft-natured vocals are similar to Mr. Smith’s, but to hear him is to hear the differences come screaming out. His voice has more of a Paul Simon-meets-M. Ward quality. To compare him to Elliott Smith is purely a referencing point, something you’ll see right away once you hear him.

By the end of the evening, I was entranced. And then he said it: “This will be my last song.” Equally remarkable were his covers, one of which was his closer. If you’ve ever heard “Teardrop” by Massive Attack, off their album Mezzanine, you’d know just how appropriate it was for him to cover it. Why no one else ever covered it is clear: José González was supposed to cover it. Plain as day. My friend Shannon was of course waiting for his cover of Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart,” but, well, he can’t please everybody (except me).

I headed home in the car with that deep satisfaction that only a surprising rousing of the senses can produce. Nothing beats being passionately amazed.
www.jose-gonzalez.com

Peter A. Holden

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