The Old Museum is a beautiful building, with amazing acoustics and the sort of intimate feel you can’t replicate in newer venues. It takes a while to fill the charming, tiered seating, but over the space of 45 minutes or so the room is full and buzzing.
One of the most renowned American singer-songwriters of the modern era, with a song book dipping into jazz, blues, folk, soul, rock and pop, Rickie Lee Jones is one of the greats.
In a perfect example of this, as she and her musical partners Jeff Pevar (guitar, bass and keys) and Ed Willet (cello) modestly entered the stage, the audience stood and applauded.
The group began humbly however, and with no introduction jumped straight into ‘The Moon Is Made Of Gold.’ It was as they transitioned smoothly into ‘Weasel And The White Boys Cool’ as the sound of whistles and stomping feet filled the room.
The trio fed off one another, playing with honest skill and a passion that made it seem as if they were just jamming out. With a career spanning over 30 years, Jones knows her way around the stage.
Her 1979 hit ‘Young Blood’ was an absolute pleasure and she sang it with as much groove as she did the day she wrote it. Possibly carried away, she halts the song right before the end, signalling for her bandmates to slow it down, and they finish it twice to tremendous applause.
There’s something in the way Jones conducts herself on stage, the way her fellow players look at her with such adoration and respect, the kind that only comes with tremendous experience.
Half way through ‘Bonfires,’ a haunting ballad about lost love she chuckles, and later explains, “I was laughing because I forgot most of that song.” The audience laugh with her as she continues, “how wonderful that is to forget a song about that fucking bitch.”
‘Away From The Sky’ followed on, a song John Lennon sung to Jones in a dream. “From John to you” was her introductory remark, and as she crooned the weird and wonderful lyrics you almost could have believed it was.
The combination of the guitar, cello, and the group’s harmonisation just made the show. The threesome were so mismatched, all from different musical backgrounds and ideologies; Willet wearing a coat and tails, Jones’ intense charisma, and Pevar, with a real laid back skill. It all connected though, and resounded perfectly within the halls of the museum.
Jones has a wealth of character, and this showed most during an unexpected cover of David Bowie’s ‘Rebel Rebel’ like a woman possessed, making guttural noises, completely lost within herself one minute, and laughing and chatting with the audience the next.
‘Chuck E’s In Love’ was definitely a crowd favourite, prompting enthusiastic clapping and even somewhat of a sing-along.
Halfway through the set she puts down the guitar and exhales. “I just gotta rest for a minute,” she laughed, before heading over to the piano. ‘We Belong Together’ followed, and was amazing, made so by small things like Willet clicking into his microphone, Pevar playing with such skill, and of course the complete conviction in which Jones sung every word.
‘Coolsville’ was just as magnificent. Completely lost in the moment, it was as if Jones was on some sort of spiritual journey as the song progressed. Bellowing waves of soul one minute and recoiling into herself the next, she wove a tapestry of sound unlike any other.
When the song finished she sat there for a minute, as if surprised by her own performance. In her usual way though she changed the atmosphere in a snap as she stated “this is the most uncomfortable chair I have ever sat in.”
It was a solid two hour set without break, and by the end the audience was just as drained yet invigorated as Jones was.
Very few bands these days have the stamina to completely give themselves over to the crowd for such a substantial amount of time, so it’s a total accolade to Jones’ obvious gumption for the industry she is in that she could.
She left the stage the same way she came on, to a standing ovation from a forever loyal crowd.
