Perspective is a tricky beast, especially in the throws of a packed, dank Middle East Upstairs venue that smells overwhelming like flatulence. Seeing Alex Cameron was, however, unlike his dark mystique (& since he has stopped adorning his trademark wrinkles & now plays with a full band) a brighter & more traditional take on a headlining tour.
Opening for Angel Olsen last year at the Sinclair, he commanded the dark venue with his performance, as his business partner & saxophonist Roy Molloy wailed into an eerie abyss of an anonymous full house. At this show however, the lights were brighter, & the crowd was more personal as he passed through the waiting-out-the-door line at this late show, leftovers in hand.
As I touched on in my previous review of Cameron’s new album, his ultimate tool is to kindle our collective nostalgia about the bygone era of Elvis’ ‘comeback’ & the 60’s & 70’s rock & country music scenes. Cameron’s story is a story about the localized & intimate constructions of power yet gives meaning to why we cannot shake old narratives that exist, whether we like them or not.
Jack Ladder is in many ways a much more brilliant performer & artist than he is a musician, and is a perfect compliment to where Cameron is coming from and trying to accomplish. He resembles an artifact of a 1970’s cornfield party scene, covers Conway Twitty & takes on the demeanor of a drunken, doe-eyed, just graduated high school senior trying to woo the girls who listen to him perform. Jack Ladder’s set, though soulful, represented a silly aesthetic that allowed the performer to alleviate the pretension of Alex Cameron’s performance. By the way of his full catalogue, he is a varied performer & artist taking on a number of characters over his several albums. I viewed this character & performance of Ladder’s like a parody of the stereotypical 1970’s wanna-be songwriter with hair as big & long as his drawl, spitting out verses that turned the most corny of expressions into intimate poetry.
Both Ladder & Cameron ask the seminal question of what happens to the psyche of the drug addicted, bloated music ‘Man’ we unanimously speak of, after being confronted by failure. The ultimate evil & humanity Cameron tours with is the perfect self aware mirror to hold up to our delicate 21st century psyches, part vulnerable, part know-it-all, part slowly coalescing to (or resisting) the American status quo.
Above the supposed parody or homage to the beginnings of a commercial country music scene, Cameron & Ladder act as impetuses for meditation on the cultural affliction that is America. White & black, north & south, rich & poor; shining a light on the innocence & equal redemption there is in songwriting, whether you’re an electronic musician from Australia, a rock & roll star from Tupelo, Mississippi, or a rapper from the Bronx.
Chris Hughes is a Contributor to the Boston Hassle. He can be reached at [email protected] or @crsjh_ via twitter & instagram.
