When I was walking by the merchandise table in the Barrymore Theatre, set up for Nick Lowe’s Quality Holiday Revue tour, I noticed an item that was (in every sense) jarring. Pinned to a board was a T-shirt advertising the event, with cartoon headshots of Lowe and his backing band, Los Straitjackets. But there was another face beaming out in peach and pastel, which was the reason I paused: Ian McLagan, who died suddenly Dec. 3.
It didn’t hit right away (indeed, didn’t hit me until I was walking home) but I realized exactly how unsettling that is, selling merchandise for a tour whose opening act passed away the day it started—the Revue had its first show at First Avenue in Minneapolis, Minnesota, Dec. 3. Was it right to sell what was essentially a false promise, the promise of Lowe, McLagan and Los Straitjackets under one roof, something unfulfilled?
Admittedly, McLagan’s death heightened my curiosity for the show. I was already an avid fan of Lowe. And Los Straitjackets (a Nashville, Tennessee, surf rock band) have gotten good press on the whole. A group called The Cactus Blossoms had been called in as replacements for McLagan. But all that was on my mind was how on earth was the Holiday Revue going to cope with the abrupt loss?
There was no indication from The Cactus Blossoms (a Minneapolis band, Western swing duo) what space McLagan (a renowned keyboardist for the Faces and The Rolling Stones, much sought as a studio player) would have filled in the show. Their set consisted of country-inflected guitar music that reminded me (more than anything else) of what played on the Mojave Music Radio station in “Fallout: New Vegas.” If you’ve got any interest in Western swing revival in the vein of Hot Club of Cowtown or Riders in the Sky, I recommend them; the duo did a fine cover of Lefty Frizzell’s “A Little Unfair.”
When Lowe came up for a solo acoustic set, after a brief intermission, I was waiting less for the songs, but more for what he was going to say. Was there a eulogy coming? Dickens recitations? There was genuine mystery behind the Revue; we had been warned that the show was not strictly holiday-themed, that it would include material from Lowe’s catalog as well as a few surprises.
But seeing Lowe dressed professionally, sans ugly Christmas sweater or anything cozy, I was a little taken aback. Sure, Lowe had promised his Revue would be “sleighbell-free,” but there was absolutely no indication that the holidays were even a consideration. Black curtains were drawn along the brick background of the Barrymore stage. There was no traditional tricolor scheme. The scene was almost somber, which was both appropriate and inopportune.
After playing a few songs, Lowe stopped to address the audience, cannily relating how he had to beg his booking agent to get him in Madison, Wisconsin, despite the latter’s protests. “I just like Madison. I want to go there.” So Lowe self-quoted to the fairly packed Barrymore. He was wonderfully humorous—“You’re in for a treat … most of us don’t know what we’re doing”—and warmly praising of The Cactus Blossoms.
And that’s when it came. A short eulogy for McLagan, a veritable rock ’n’ roll royal (a title befitting the man who played the rambling piano on the Faces “Ooh La La”). It was concise, spoken in the same warm tones as his Cactus praise and it didn’t detract too much from the excited mood of the audience. Lowe finished with a tried and true line (or platitude): “The show must go on.” He attributed that sentiment to McLagan, before adding, “It is in that spirit that we will be fulfilling all our debuts up until Christmas.”
Lowe proceeded to play a few more tracks—including the first Christmas tune (co written with Ry Cooder) called “A Dollar Short of Happy,” which was genuinely hilarious and sad—before Los Straitjackets came on stage to play backup.
A talented set of dudes, Los Straitjackets have an additional shtick where they wear Lucha Libre masks during performances, another fact that was strange for the setting. Yes, yes, the show must go on, but what a strange show. The band lent some summery muscle to Lowe’s songs (mostly originals) before Lowe took a break.
Entirely instrumental, Los Straitjackets ran though a series of originals and Christmas covers—including a riveting rendition of “Linus & Lucy”—showing off their skill with plenty of brio and a side of ham too. They ushered Lowe (dressed in a salmon shirt now, instead of the blue one he was wearing before) back on stage with “I Love The Sound of Breaking Glass.”
Lowe picked up where he had left off, with further emphasis on originals (including, not surprisingly, “Cruel To Be Kind” and “I Knew The Bride When She Used To Rock And Roll”) and less on holiday tunes. The encore consisted of a cover of Benny Goodman’s “Sing, Sing, Sing” as well as ultimate Lowe track “(What’s So Funny ’Bout) Peace, Love, And Understanding?” The crowd had been induced to dance, once they had risen for the ovation and the jazzy drums started tumbling out. It was a strange scene. I saw a man dressed like a voyager, with fur hat and coat, bring his beer down and dance in front of the stage.
It seemed, by that point, all pretenses of "Holiday Revue" had been dropped. Nice as all the Christmas tunes were (nothing too saccharine) they didn’t exude the same spirit even the most trite of carols does. And the issue of McLagan’s death seemed to have faded too. It still hung like a specter, however faint, over the proceedings, but it did not seem to be either an obstacle or a hindrance.
Maybe if I hadn’t seen the shirt hanging up before the show, this review would have taken a completely different direction. As it stands, the image of McLagan in the proceedings is staunchly adumbrated in my mind.
The show did end in a most interesting fashion though. Lowe returned for a second encore and rather than play an original or cover, he elected to play “Alison” by Elvis Costello. Winsome, wistful, Lowe bid us adieu and we were glad to say goodbye—not because we wanted to leave, but because it was such a nice goodbye.
