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Tom Waits, Reimaginated

The Washington PostSOUTHSIDE JOHNNY WITH LABAMBA’S BIG BAND “Grapefruit Moon”

Don’t be surprised if big slices of “Grapefruit Moon,” Southside Johnny Lyon’s big-band tribute to Tom Waits, leave you wishing that someone had produced a similar project for Ray Charles. Wouldn’t he have been inspired by the album’s vividly drawn songs and brassy orchestrations, especially when arranger Richie “LaBamba” Rosenberg pulls out all the stops on “Down, Down, Down,” “Please Call Me, Baby” and other treats drawn from the Waits catalogue?

Certainly the songs and the settings bring out the best in Lyon, not to mention the opportunity to share a duet with the composer himself during a chummy, swaggering, polyphonic arrangement of “Walk Away.” The lyrics demand a lot from a vocalist — soul, power, personality and finesse, for starters — and Lyon consistently delivers, supported by arrangements that blend large ensemble thrust and jazz solos with R&B touches, including blues harmonica and stinging lead-guitar work.

Some of Waits’s best-known tunes are freshly framed by Rosenberg and swiftly personalized by Lyon, including “New Coat of Paint” and “Shiver Me Timbers.” But it’s also a pleasure to hear Lyon unearth lesser-known gems such as “Dead and Lovely,” a terse, noir-inspired vignette that features one of Waits’s pitch-perfect lyrics: “She made up someone to be/She made up somewhere to be from.”

– Mike Joyce, The Washington Post

Source: The Washington Post: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/05/21/AR2009052101627.html

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Birchmere, Washington, DC

The Washington Post
THE WASHINGTON POST – BY DAVE McKENNA – SEPTEMBER 4, 2000

About 45 minutes into Southside Johnny’s riotously fun show at the Birchmere Friday, a roadie hauled an electric fan onto the stage, fearing the blue-eyed soul stirrer might be on the verge of overheating. But neither Southside Johnny (a k a Johnny Lyon) nor anybody in the overflow crowd showed a desire to be cooled off.

“Good thing I’m wearing sponge,” Lyon joked, flicking sweat toward those in the front row and signaling the band to jump into “Fever,” the early Springsteen chestnut.

At 51, Lyon could understandably dread being reminded of the ties that bind him to Bruuuuuce. Though Lyon’s voice made him better suited to the type of full-blown fraternity rock that Springsteen championed as the Jersey Shore sound in the early 1970s, he never learned to write songs like the Boss.

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