Shake Appeal
The Go bring Detroit and the garage to the Knit
By Don Waller
For more than 50 years, the Detroit metro area has given the world more great music than just about any other city in America. Only Los Angeles, maybe New York City, and the great state of Texas can post comparable track records.
Aside from the now-legendary Motown stable of '60s and '70s stars, Detroit's legacy stretches from R&B (Hank Ballard & The Midnighters, Little Willie John, Andre Williams) and soul (Aretha Franklin, Jackie Wilson, Wilson Pickett) to classic rockers (Bob Seger, Ted Nugent) and punk progenitors (Iggy & The Stooges, The MC5).
While "Detroit," a 1987 indie single by ex-Rationals/Sonic's Rendevous Band vocalist Scott Morgan, name-checks all of these and more, Detroit has since spawned mega-platinum rappers (Eminem, Kid Rock), the three guys who invented "techno" (Juan Atkins, Kevin Sanderson, Derrick May) and, most recently, a virtual suburb's worth of garage-rock revivalists: The Dirtbombs, The Detroit Cobras, The Willowz, and, most prominently, The White Stripes.
The Detroit-based quartet known as The Go fall into this last category. (White Stripes main man Jack White is a former member, having played lead guitar on Whatcha Doin', the band's 1999 SubPop debut.)
When White split and the label rejected a second LP, The Go's core members (vocalist/guitarist Bobby Harlow, bassist/vocalist John Krautner, and drummer Mark Fellis) shuffled some personnel, released a self-titled 2003 LP on U.K.-based Lizard King, and - after adding lead guitarist/vocalist Jimmy McConnell - returned with their best disc to date, Howl On The Haunted Beat You Ride, issued on Motor City-based indie Cass Records a scant two months back.
So how come The Go's headlining performance at the Knitting Factory on Tuesday (August 21) couldn't draw more than 100 people? Well ... the short answer is a whole lotta people who - based on their predilection for all things neo-retro rock 'n' roll (and I could personally name three or four dozen of 'em) - would've been go-goin' to The Go, don't even know about 'em.
The longer answer is that despite The Go's fashionably snake-hipped, mop-topped look and - more importantly - their considerable attention to melody and songcraft, the band didn't display the sort of sock-it-to-ya showmanship that separates the leaders from the pack and leaves audiences spent and throbbing. Mak show, ya know?
Don't get me wrong. Whipping through 16 songs in an hour (plus encores), The Go were tighter than a Mother Superior - the frequent three-part harmonies were impressively accurate - and the aforementioned tunesmithery was psychedelicately-tinged, pop-rock purr-fection.
Playing spot-the-influences is always dependent on just exactly where your friendly trainspotter came on the scene, but there's a couple jiggers of mid-period Kinks and Pretty Things, a dash of T. Rex, The Rolling Stones, glam-rock-era David Bowie, and maybe even The Four Seasons (or, more likely, The Tremeloes), and far more than four fingers' worth of the Anglophilia refracted in the Guided By Voices catalog (albeit far less beer-soaked) that've been shaken 'n' stirred into The Go's metaphorical sonic cocktail.
The first six songs in the set - "You Go Bangin' On," "Invisible Friends," "Caroline," "So Long Johnny," "Yer Stoned Italian Cowboy," and "Refrain," the last being an Allen Ginsberg poem wedded to The Go's own musical bed - mirrored the new album's opening salvo. And, reaching back to both of their previous albums for "He's Been Lying" and "You Can Get High," provided another pair of the night's highlights.
As I keep repeating, double-beating, The Go's neo-classic repertoire is far, far better than most of their garage-rockin' compadres from Detroit. And The Go have found a certain amount of success in licensing their material for inclusion in TV ("Hey Linda" in My Name Is Earl) and films ("Blue Eyes Woman" and "Summer's Gonna Be My Girl" in The Hills Have Eyes). This may prove to be the real key to The Go's future 'cause these days one major song placement beats 1,001 nights of sweat-drenched touring.
Published: 08/23/2007
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