Brian Slattery Photo
J.P. Harris.
J.P. Harris got a song out of riding a freight train through freezing weather into Washington state. Brian Dolzani got a song of his own out of driving across Indiana. Both acts brought their travels and their tunes to Cafe Nine on Wednesday night to turn it into a honky tonk, with sets of songs that connected New Haven to the highways around it, and the country beyond.
Dolzani hailed from “down the road in Fairfield,” but made clear with his songs that he got around; this show marked an early date in a tour that will take him to Tennessee, Louisiana, and Texas. A song about a place called the Pocahontas Motel was based on just such an establishment he’d seen on an Indiana highway while on tour in the Midwest. Another song was written in Nashville. Playing closer to home, however, meant Dolzani could bring along his trio — Bill Conroy on bass and John Macchia on drums — who were a forceful, driving rhythm section for Dolzani on guitar and vocals. Dolzani proved himself an able lead guitarist when the song called for it, but more often the songs and Dolzani’s voice spoke for themselves, with clean, direct lyrics that spoke of emotional hardship and hope.
Some songs were clearly pulled from Dolzani’s experience of being a touring musician. “This is for all my brothers and sisters out there taking a risk and being creative,” he said by way of introduction to one song. “We’re all out there making tens of dollars of day, but the satisfaction is worth it.”
Dolzani was as good as his word, as his banter in between songs revealed a wry sense of humor. “We’re going to play the title track” off his latest album, Horse, he said, “if they still call it that these days.” As he thanked everyone for coming toward the beginning of his set and graciously introduced Conroy and Macchia, he added that “they would say thank you, but they did not get microphones.”
For his last number, as a warm-up to J.P. Harris and the Tough Choices, he mentioned that “I’ve written exactly one honky tonk song in my life, and I figure now’s the time.” It was.
“This is our first time ever playing a concert engagement in the great state of Connecticut,” the Nashville-based Harris said by way of introduction. The crowd was mid-sized but numbered among them people who had traveled from Long Island to see him and the Tough Choices play. Through a tight, raucous set of mostly original, Harris showed why. Musically, Harris has a classic smoky country baritone and a breezy, vibey touch on rhythm guitar, and surrounded himself with a terrific band — Justin Mahoney on guitar, Thomas Bryan Eaton on pedal steel, Miss Tess on bass, and Ryan Elwell on drums — that rocked Cafe Nine’s stage hard, got people in the crowd moving, and made them shout for two encores at the end.
But front and center was Harris’s songwriting, by turns sweet and savage, hilarious and poignant. In the best tradition of honky tonk songwriting, it hit that sweet spot of being somehow completely direct and impossibly clever. Though Harris showed that this state of mind was one that came to him naturally.
He noted that many songwriters pull their inspiration by watching other people. “I have been blessed and cursed with being able to write about only the dumb things I have done.” Time and again this wry, self-deprecating humor pervaded his banter as well. Early in his set he told a story of one of his songs being picked up to be used in 2012 Hollywood movie that then flopped, ruining his chances of cashing in like he’d hoped. “I know Zac Efron and Dennis Quaid walked away with a bunch of money. J.P. Fucking Harris didn’t. I get $80 a year in perpetuity for that song. That’ll buy you about 200 cigarettes in Nashville.”
His openness made him fast friends with the enraptured crowd. “You ever got friends and they’re always doing bad stuff?” Harris said to introduce a song later in his set.
“Her! Her!” called out two women seated near the front, almost in unison. They pointed vigorously at each other.
Harris also had a gift for inventing tall tales, telling the audience that though guitarist Mahoney was from Canada, “I’m absolutely thrilled that we could ship him here in an Acme crate. Didn’t have to pay duties on him or anything.” He also declared his drummer, who came from Sarasota, Fla., “the only reason there are any parties or joy coming out of that place.”
Just before his final song, he paid tribute to Cafe Nine, looking around at all the acts who had come through the place, all the names he recognized and revered. He was honored to be there.
“Nice to be part of the dirtbag music continuum,” he said, and meant it.
