You can fit a lot of hay in here. Or WFUV listeners. After stints as Nashville's next big thing, near dead has-been, and bluegrass castaway, Earle is making another play for the big time. He's got a big heart, but I miss his spleen. Like Philip Seymour Hoffman's Lester Bangs, the AOR Steve Earle is too damn sweet to be true.
Chicks make a lot of hay.
Meanwhile, shaggy-tressed guitarist and fellow vocalist Adam Green lolled around looking forlorn in a green felt Robin Hood shift and elfin cap. McCloud's saucy sing-speak was mostly drowned out by the heavy wash of keyboards and drums, but during the slower numbers audible lyrics provided pathos. While the sold-out house stomped for more, a serene McCloud sat in the corner of the stage, smoked two cigarettes, drank his Bud, and gazed out at no one in particular. That he was. For Albini a frighteningly lucid music writer, a rock producer, and a musician is clearly independent rock's answer to Clement Greenberg.