Once the twanging banjo and quaking voice of Langhorne Slim and the Law relinquish their stranglehold on my attention, after three hours of their folk rock intensity shook the foundation of the Abilene Bar and Lounge, I subconsciously begin listening to LCD Soundsystem’s “Daft Punk is Playing at My House”.
It makes no sense at all, shifting from three chord masterpieces and acoustic tenderness to the post punk celebration of once-underground costumed electro music. But then, it makes perfect sense. The same excitement James Murphy has at the opportunity to show off Daft Punk in the most intimate of settings I feel before Sean Scolnick and his band start their set. It’s a feeling initially brought on by the smallness and familiarity of the Abilene, literally an old house sticking out like a sore thumb in downtown Rochester, New York with only the bare minimum of adjustments so that it still feels livable. It is easy to imagine the bar having been filled with furniture and family portraits, as if they’ve been removed for a house party until the parental units come back to town.
Langhorne Slim and the Law open with “Back to the Wild”, an anthem of sorts, but not until Slim screams out the chorus to “Rebel Side of Heaven” does the concert really pick up steam. “Rebel Side” is a straight forward rock and roll track from 2008, one of those anecdotal ditties that comprise Slim’s bread and butter. They illuminate something of his character; the small statured troubadour in the bandana and bowler hat sings of a lifestyle that’s not so much dangerous as it is unconventional. He’s different, but quotes from Grandpa Slim and small sentimentalities make Langhorne Slim accessible to anyone.
What makes a Langhorne Slim show special is undeniably the exuberance of our honored guest. Between climbing the amplifiers, hopping around on one leg, or using his guitar to turn an oddly placed ceiling fan, Slim never sits still and never changes character from that of a hyperactive kid who makes a strong case for pharmaceutical intervention. Especially in this small setting, that energy is magnetic. Imagine the aforementioned house party. With Langhorne Slim as the catalyst, where once an anxious, subdued group of fans shuffled clumsily to the first few songs, by the time the call and answer “Cinderella” rings out, there now stands a full blown party.
Somewhere amid Langhorne Slim’s antics during the fan favorite “In the Midnight”, his guitar takes on noticeable damage, a perfect excuse for an extended introduction to his most exposed song “Worries”, which you would most likely recognize from insurance commercials. This song illustrates what there is to love about small venues like the Abilene Lounge. With no discernible stage, the boundary between the performer and concert goers is fluid, and Slim takes this opportunity to position his microphone among the crowd. Once there, a little well-timed eye contact and more mood setting theatrics shoot some life into what is actually an otherwise ho-hum song.
Of course, house parties aren’t always fun, and tonight provides a few challenges for the band to overcome. On one of the night’s more delicate melodies, Slim catches audience members mid conversation. Knowing that every party has its jerks, Slim tells those of us who are hanging on his every word: “I don’t like them very much… I will later, but right now I don’t.” He’s good natured and understanding, even if the diehards in the audience aren’t, and it goes to show that, on top of entrancing with his ragdoll dance movements, Langhorne Slim’s stage persona is very funny. On more than one occasion he dangles his humor over the audience, inviting fans to the merchandise table after the show where he “wants to touch you… appropriately… enough”, for example, or when his songs turn to elongated soul dialogues praising an anonymous, probably oxy-moronic “smooth Rochester style”.
Certain performers know how to leave their audience satisfied, yet still craving for more. With their final song of the night, Langhorne Slim and the Law kicked the doors off what had been until now a great show. Langhorne and the gang slide into the steamy lament of days gone by “Past Lives”, a new song I had heard and instantly fell in love with only hours earlier. The song is relatively minimalist, with Slim dropping the guitar to break down the borders between him and the audience once and for all, wandering aimlessly among the heads of bearded folkies or aging musical aficionados that make up the audience.
Before we know it, Langhorne Slim has crossed the span of the audience to place himself atop the bar, his voice straining to sing “Honey when they said Scolnick is dead / it wasn’t true I was simply dead to you”. Earlier in the show we were told that he’s no beer drinker; more of a wine and whiskey guy, so without skipping a note, Slim orders a shot. After tossing it back, he belts out “I ain’t dead anymore”, and I get it; Langhorne Slim and the Law are here for me. They were simply kind enough to let a hundred or so other people in to see the performance.