WHAT Seasick Steve's audience seems to want is for him to be more rowdy and less reflective. A group standing by the bar at the Picture House on Tuesday night became particularly restless every time the hobo-chic musician, aka Steve Wold, dished out
another quiet piece of wisdom, or whenever he gave the stage over to his son Paul Wold so that he could sing one of his own tracks.
Steve's ballads are a pleasure to listen to, although they rarely silenced the hubbub at the Picture House with their beauty or clarity. Only a duet near the end of the set with double bass player Amy LaVere had people shooshing at the back, with Steve's grizzled old-man growl perfectly offset by LaVeres' radiant country twang. She also entered into things in the right spirit for this crowd, quite literally. Gulping from a quarter bottle of whisky, LaVere demurely announced "that's like water where I come from". Cue adulation.
If only there had been more of the same. While Steve is clearly a more sensitive songwriter than his image or chosen style suggest, a sit-down venue might have been better suited to a wider appreciation of his music – or, for the loudest blues numbers, featuring his electric guitar with drumming accompaniment, a grubby roadhouse with chickenwire covering the stage would have done the trick.
Tracks like Thunderbird and the epic closer Dog House Boogie at last demonstrated the dark side of Steve's particular take on Americana.
