date >> 08-02-2003

the venue >> cozy's

location >> sherman oaks, ca

Show Review by me

Show Pictures

Generally, I don't write show reviews, because:

a. "Talking about music is like dancing about architecture" (attribution) and

b. My show reviews inevitably wind up reading like letters to Penthouse Forum.

However, Saturday night's show was even more amazing than Friday's, so I'm going to give it a shot.

My seat was also better, thanks to Paul Loranger, who hooked me up with a barstool by the stage. I was late, and lost my reservation, so it's Paul that you have to thank for the incredible pictures from this night's show.

[SIDEBAR: I was late because I had a wardrobe crisis at the last minute, and blew half an hour trying to find something decent to wear (I failed). Suffice it to say, catalogs lie. I was stuck wearing a disaster of a dress, and hiding under my coat, even though it was about 120° inside Cozy's. I spent the whole first set fidgeting and freaking, then Paul suggested I have a drink, and chill. I did. It worked wonders. Then my evil twin, Tämmy, took the wheel, and drove the night right off the rails and into a ditch. The moral of the story: I shouldn't drink... I'm no damn good at it!]

As promised, I tried to keep track of the songs they played, as best I could. Now, I know every single song the band has ever released, but they play a lot of stuff that isn't on any of their albums. If I could steal the set list at the end of the show I would, but they don't play from a set list. They fly through shows by the seat of their collective pants. You can tell they do, because before each song, Paul and Mike watch Eric like two very talented hawks, waiting to see what he has up his sleeve for the next number. I know this, because I am always watching all three of them like a hawk, myself. I also know this, because Paul confirmed the fact when I asked him.

THE FIRST SET

The first set opened with an instrumental, then they played a song I couldn't identify. At this point I was 0 for 2, and about ready to chuck the whole writing-down-the-set-list idea. But then they did the "The Girl I Been Lovin', She Got Great Long Curly Hair" song. It's a personal favorite of mine, because of the lyrics. I love this song. I always indulge in a little harmless self-delusion, and pretend that the song is being played for me specifically. (Don't roll your eyes at me. I know I'm not the only one who does this!)

I was now 1 for 3, but my imagination was off to the races, and working overtime. For this reason, you must forgive me for not being able to tell you what the next two songs were. I was otherwise occupied. (When a good fantasy hits me, I go with it.)

I returned to Planet Earth in time for "Can't Be Satisfied," which just smoked! Oh lordy mama!

Just when I thought it couldn't get any better, they ripped into "Get Along Rider," and I just about died of pleasure.

Can this night get any better? Yes, it can!

Next up is "Same Ol' Way" from the new album. God, I love this song. It has such a nasty little groove.

By the time it's over, the audience is eating out of Eric's hand. His next move is to go unplugged for a bit of acoustic finger gymnastics. As he finishes, someone screams, "HOLY SHIT!" (Can I get a witness? I couldn't have agreed more. And I would have said so, too, if I was able to draw breath at this point.)

Eric flashes a wicked little smile, and announces, "That's why we love playing at Cozy's," then the band is off and running into another kickass instrumental.

They wrap up the set with the new track "Flames of Love." Now, I don't know if it's the WahWah pedal, or something more metaphysical than guitar hardware, but this song reminds me of Hendrix. Not any particular Hendrix song, just the feel of Hendrix. I've heard it played live twice now, and both times, I was on the edge of my seat, praying for a little pagan amp-sex a la Jimi. (See what I mean about Penthouse Forum? And this is an EXTREMELY edited review.)

The amp didn't get lucky... not that I'm complaining. This is another new song that is fast becoming a personal favorite.

THE BREAK

Okay, we are now to the break between sets. I am still feeling horribly self-conscious, so I tell Paul that I'm going out front to cool off. Not the whole truth. I really went out front, and all the way around the side of the building back away from the street, to hide. This is when Paul joined me, and suggested the inspired idea of having a drink. Now, why hadn't I thought of that? Sitting inside, I'd considered beta-blockers (which I didn't have), transcendental meditation (which I couldn't remember how to do), or even a good whack on the head (which presented its own logistical challenges)... but alcohol just hadn't occurred to me.

When you don't drink very often, it's easy to forget how effective alcohol is for taking the edge off a tense situation. And in my case, with my cheap-date tolerance level, it doesn't take much liquor to turn my frown upside-down. That is also something that's easy to forget. And I did forget it.

I went back in and asked Anthony (my fave Cozy's bartender) to hook me up. For the past two nights, he'd been serving me pineapple juice and Diet Cokes. "Anthony," I said, "this dress is a f'n disaster, and I need a drink."

"What are you talking about? The dress is great! You look like you belong in Vegas!"

I was thinking to myself, "Yeah, that's what I was afraid of!" I guess the look on my face got the point across.

"Okay, whatever you say," he relented, "What'll you have?"

"Two Sex on the Beaches, but you can put them in one glass." (Yes, I know, how Twentieth Century of me. I told you I don't drink very often.)

"Which beach?" he asked.

"Your call. I trust your judgment," I replied.

So, I had my drink in hand, and went back to claim my spot by the stage, before the second set.

One of the front tables had been vacated by a party of three, and a couple had taken their place. They asked me if I would like to sit with them, and I said I would, since the chair would be more comfortable, and the spot more centered. I sat down with my still-full drink, and pulled my coat up over me to my chin, like a blanket. I was holding it in my teeth, trying to get my dress underneath to behave itself, when unnoticed by me, the guys came back onstage. I glanced up (coat still in my teeth) just in time to see Paul and Mike watching me, cracking up.

Not one of my finest moments.

That's when I started working on my drink in earnest, so the set list gets a little fuzzy here, and so do I.

THE SECOND SET

The second set starts with another instrumental, then another blues song; and again, it isn't until the third song that I know the name of what they're playing. It's the title track off the new album, Black Pearls, and all by itself, it's worth the price of the whole CD. It's that good.

By this point, my handwriting is hopeless, which means the drink was kicking in. I think I let my coat slip down a couple of inches, and gave Paul a big thumbs-up for releasing me from psychological wardrobe hell with his drinking suggestion.

I'm not positive what they played next, but my notes say it was "Murdering Blues." I know this song is supposed to be politically incorrect (a guy singing about offing his old lady), but as a female that's been cheated on, I can tell you that we women identify. "Hell hath no fury," and all that jazz. As such, I love this song, lyrics and all.

I can't tell you with any degree of certainty what the rest of the set was, but my notes list "Instrumental," "Down in the Bottom," and "Treat Me Right." I also remember the bass and drum and guitar solos, which are always incredible, and totally entertaining. It's awesome seeing the guys trade the spotlight back and forth. Paul always lays down some badass funky grooves, and Mike Dupke always manages to rock the whole house, get me going, AND crack me up. I swear, the boy's got rhythm... energy to burn... and personality out the yin-yang. He is hands-down the most entertaining drummer that I've ever seen. All night long he chair-dances while he plays, just like I do, sitting out in the audience listening. And when he beats the hell out of his drums during his solo? Oh, dear god!

On this night, the Corona bottle was where it belonged, sitting at the base of Eric's amp stack, waiting to be put through its paces. (I know, because I checked early on in the set, to be on the safe side, after Friday night's beer-bottle-free finale.) By the time it made its appearance, I was snapping pictures right and left, and my coat was folded up under my chair.

FAIR WARNING: Here's where you might want to send the younguns into the other room...

I've seen a lot of guitar players play slide with a beer bottle (I practically grew up at Heart of Texas Music, a store where beer bottle slide is played right out in the open in broad daylight), but I've never seen ANYONE do it quite the way Eric does. It's downright pornographic, and I mean that as the highest possible praise. The way he jerks that bottle and his hands around, and the way he lets that bottle spurt its contents sky-high and helter-skelter? Well, every time I see it, I'm hit with an almost irresistible urge to fall to my knees, tear off my top, and give that man a target. (Don't roll your eyes at me. I know I'm not the only one who feels this way!)

What can I say about Eric's particular brand of beer bottle slide? It speaks to me, in my mother tongue.

Eric also came out into the audience on this night, though whether this happened before or after the beer bottle, I can't say. The whole second half of the second set is a blur for me -- like an erotic dream that I had, but can't remember the details of.

AFTER THE SHOW

After the show, I fear that I may have made a spectacle of myself; but luckily, I don't remember what I did exactly to achieve this. There's just this general suspicion that my internal censor had left the building, and I was saying and doing whatever popped into my fool head.

I do remember the following:

Asking Mike about his discography, and his birthday, and somewhere along the line, discussing my craving for salt.

Meeting Chris Frazier (sp?), who has played drums for Eric Sardinas, Steve Vai, and Carole King, and who mentioned that he did the drum tracks on the new album (WTF)? I wanted to get more background info on his career, but we ended up just chatting like people. I told him that I like his hair better now that it is longer, which I most definitely do. He also did something crazy with his pecs. The guy is a surfer, and he is in sick shape. I'm not kidding. He is also very gentlemanly, and walked me to my car. BTW, he thinks Dirty Looks sounds like Kix, but I think they sound like Bon Scot-era AC/DC. That's about as deep as our musical discussion got.

Once we got to my car, I decided it would be a good idea to give myself a few minutes to sober up before the 45-minute drive back to Long Beach. I kicked back on the little wicker bench in front of my parking space, and checked out the few stars I could see in the hazy Southern California sky, while the guys were packing up their gear. It didn't take me long to figure out that I wasn't getting more sober, I was getting more drunker.

So, I said my goodbyes, and called it a night. I drove carefully home, and fell right to sleep, thankfully AFTER I got here.

I had wonderful dreams all night long (which I always do after seeing this band live), and they turned into wonderful daydreams the next day. When I emerged from my fog, I downloaded my show pictures, and set about the business of posting them, and writing this review.

Then today, I got an envelope in the mail from Ticketmaster, inside of which was my ticket to the August 14th House of Blues Anaheim Listening Party and Concert.

... And I am so excited about this, that you'd think I hadn't seen the band in months. But that's one of the best things about Eric Sardinas. You can never get enough, let alone get burnt out.