Steve Poltz Hits All the Right Notes in Marathon Show

Friday night I went to see Steve Poltz, lead vocalist for the Rugburns, perform solo at Java Joe's, in Ocean Beach, a part of San Diego. Just in case Jewel might show up, I got there early, by 8:15 p.m., and found a seat on the floor about 12 feet from the stage. By 9:00 p.m. the room was packed. I estimated the crowd at 250-300, though it was hard to tell. Most were women, 21 or younger. I'd say they were about 70-75% of the audience. There were chairs in the back and to the right and left along the wall. For me, the floor was comfortable enough for the moment, though I wondered idly if I'd ever be able to walk again after the concert ended. I had a long time to ponder on this, as Steve didn't take the stage until 9:45 p.m.. By this time, those who couldn't fit inside the large room or afford the $7.00 ticket, had their eyes and ears pressed against the glass windows along one of the walls of the building. Fortunately, ventilation was good, and there was no smoking. As usual for Java Joe's, the audience was first-rate - attentive and respectful to the performers.

During the concert, I took no notes. I was enthralled by the music. Though I had come there hoping to see Jewel who often shows up when the Rugburns play, after two minutes of Steve's performance, the thought never again entered my mind. He was on stage for 1-1/2 hours. Normally that's a full concert, but tonight it was just the intermission. After a half-hour break, he returned for another two full hours. That's 3-1/2 hours of music. And the 100 or so people who stayed to the very end, which was almost 2:00 a.m. on the clock, didn't seem in a hurry to leave.

He is the consumate performer, with at times a gravely, smokey, almost gear-worn voice, that yields to more dulcet tones and intonations, perfect pitch, guitar fingering that would equal classical flamenco, an encyclopedic array of lyrics, imagry that evokes a range of emotions, and a stage presence that is so likable, friendly and honest that hearing him perform is a total joy. In my efforts to classify his talents, I was struck by shades of Harry Connick, Jr., the wit of Noel Coward, and the emotive qualities of Bob Dylan -- not bad company to keep! But Steve Poltz is so much more than the sum of his parts.

I was blown away by the way he crafted his lyrics with such seamless perfection. Phrases like "Ann Landers" and "Colonel Sanders" of course were meant to rhyme, but he got much more mileage out of the nuances of simple verses. His raconteur skills were also delightful. He had just returned from a week in Alaska, doing some kyacking and camping, and attending the funeral of Jewel's grandmother who had just passed away. There were stories about everthing, from a song he sang around the campfire, "Satan's Choir" which freaked out his guide, to the intrusion by a brown bear who stole one of his Snickers bars, to the performance "happenings" at the funeral itself. Everybody in Jewel's family is a musician, or a poet it would seem.

At one point, between songs, he spoke about the confusion caused to him and his sister, who were both born on the cusp of Pisces, February 19th, in different years. In the audience, there was one other person who shared that same birthday -- me! I would tell Steve this during intermission, and experience his song-writing genius firsthand later in his performance. But I am getting ahead of myself.

During his first set he asked if Lisa Sanders was in the audience. She was, and he invited her to do a duet with him. They had written a song called "Rainbow" together, and it will be on Lisa's first album, "Isn't Life Fine", which will be released by MCA in September or October 1997. Imitating an academic who gives a "compare and contrast" essay question to his class, Steve first performed "Rainbow" himself, then did another duet with Lisa, then asked her to do a solo version of their song "Rainbow". She gave a totally different rendition of the lyrics, which was even more beautiful and striking.

Steve's lyrics is about longings, yearnings, what is and what might be. From the very beautiful "Forbidden Fruit" about love for money, to a song about trying out for the basketball team in junior high school, they run the gamut, but their feelings are just as intense. I wish I had taped his performance. Many people did. It was noteworthy, but I'd love to listen to his lyrics over and over again to savor all their complexity and gradations.

During intermission, I spoke with a gentleman that I recognized from three years ago, backstage at a Milla concert. He confirmed that he was there, and said that he was Steve's manager. We talked about Milla, whom he knew since she was 7 or 8 years old. He said that she was cutting a new album, which should be released in January. Jewel was also recording a new CD which should be released next February, and Steve is bringing out his first solo album apart from his Rugburn releases, which is tentatively titled "Hawaiian Songs That Don't Sound Hawaiian", but which may end up being self-titled. That should also be released by next February, perhaps even on the 19th of February!

At 11:45 p.m. Steve again took the stage. The audience had thinned out a little bit, not by very much, but there was more leg room, and I was able to move closer to the stage.

Elizabeth Hummel was in the audience and Steve invited her up for a duet, "Seen You Through the Window of the Good Will Store", followed by "Denim Blues". I had never seen her before, and liked her immediately. She has very beautiful hands.

The rest of the set list is a blur. He took some requests, commented that hot dogs seem to play such a prominent part in his lyrics, recalled the words to a song about love at a Roberto's taco stand, and that chimmichunga worked much better in San Diego, than in Minneapolis, which launched him into a dialect immitation of Jerry Lundegaard, the fumbling, evil car dealer in the Coen Brother's film Fargo. Everything was grist for his nano-second, quantum leap imagination, as I was about to find out.

Spotting me in the audience, he told everybody that my birthday was February 19th. Uh, oh! Then he asked me for my name again. Now I knew I was in big trouble. J-o-e-l he mused, Joel. "Joel", he said, "I know everything about you. More about you, in fact than you know about yourself." And he started to strum and sing a song called "Joel" about a guy who procrastinates, and is disorganized, and maybe used to drink too much red wine, which he said I liked, maybe (if he had said Drambuie, I would probably have to start a new cult), and on and on. Then he had the audience join in on the chorus, which was "Joel, Joel, we know more about you than you do."

I was both beaming and looking for some hole to crawl into, but there wasn't any nearby. Mercifully it ended, and Steve went on to more traditional material. Finally, he left the stage, but came back to do an encore of another 10 songs or so. I was hoping that it would never end, but it did. His last number was Jewel's "You Were Meant For Me", done so lovingly. I think there may just be something between him and Jewel, just an educated guess. After that, he came right over to me and shook my hand. I was really floating on air, and I felt like I had found a new soulmate, as well as someone whose music I really loved. It was quite a night!