This week's installment of Rocktober was held at the Variety Playhouse, where as usual  I arrived too early. There were only a few people there when I entered, but those who were there threw me for a bit of a loop - I was not only not the oldest person there by at least a decade, but I was a lot closer to the average age, with some folks there looking older than even I.  And the P.A. system was playing the sort of 60s' pop songs no one ever admits anymore to having listened to back in the day (e.g., Up, Up and Away - and not even the original version, but a sweet soul cover).  And everyone was seated, drinking beer and wine, while politely munching on popcorn and nachos and chatting with their neighbors.  Not a single person was occupying the spacious floor between the stage and the seats.  It was all too genteel and polite and eerily reminiscent of that creepy scene at Chastain Park.  I had to check my Android twice to make sure I was at the right venue and hadn't wandered in to a  revival of Alice's Restaurant by mistake.  

Confused, I hung back by the tables until the opening act, the British duo Smoke Fairies, took the stage, and then advanced, alone, up to the stage, feeling both slightly ridiculous but simultaneously entirely justified being the only person within a good 20 yards of the stage.  

I wasn't sure what to expect from a band with a a name like Smoke Fairies (Gong's pot-head pixies, perhaps?), but I certainly hadn't expected two lovely English ladies with a folk sound infused with cajun slide guitar.  They may have spoken with English accents, but their music sounded a lot closer to Louisiana than London.

The only other  people of the floor beside myself were one professional-looking photographer working the edge of the stage, and that guy that I see at every concert I go to (who is that guy, anyway?).    The ladies of Smoke Fairies even mentioned that the audience seemed very far away, but no one else took the hint to come forward.  

About halfway through their set, some backup players, including members of Blitzen Trapper, joined Smoke Fairies on stage. 

By Smoke Fairies' last three or four songs, a few people had finally gathered around me by the stage, and by the time Portland's Blitzen Trapper took the stage, we finally had a pretty good crowd.  It was starting to look like a rock 'n' roll concert at last, but I do admit to having been unnerved there for a few moments.

Blitzen Trapper's set was nothing short of terrific.  I missed seeing them last month at the Crystal Ballroom during MFNW (with Sharon Van Etten opening), having decided to avoid the stifling heat of that venue and instead see Givers, Pickwick, Ages and Ages, and Lost Landers in the comforts of the Doug Fir.

  

I enjoyed that other show that I went to back then, but I'm realizing now that I probably missed something special that night in Portland.  Blitzen Trapper were incredible live.  Their songs, especially those from their new album, had an energy and intensity not hinted at on disc.  Their music ranged from country rock with traces of southern rock to classic Americana, all performed in a compelling and lively manner.

They played all my favorite songs of theirs, including Furr (second song of the set) and, toward the middle-end of their nearly 60-minute set, their murder ballad, Black River Killer.

In truth, I really only came to the show to see Blitzen Trapper.  I had already seen the headliners, Dawes, at about this time last year at Smith's Olde Bar, where Peter Wolf Crier and Vetiver opened for them.  Their van had broken down that evening after an in-store performance at Criminal Records, and they took the stage late and seemed a little out of it that evening.  They weren't bad, but I did leave before they were through (it was late). However, I was still willing to give them a second chance, but I probably wouldn't have gone to this show if it hadn't been for Blitzen Trapper on the bill. 

Damn if Dawes didn't bring their A-game with them this evening.  I can't tell if they got that much better in one year or if they were just that off their stride last year, but they hardly even seemed like the same band.  Which ever the case may be, they still get my vote for Most Improved Band of 2011.

A lot of songs that sound on disc like laid-back country-rock numbers were transformed on stage into foot-stomping, guitar-shredding bona fide rock songs.  The audience was clearly appreciative, and for the last chorus of When My Time Comes, front man Taylor Goldsmith just turned the microphone around and let the audience sing the words.

Goldsmith has certainly come into his own as a front man.  He carries the band well, conveying a real sense of story in every song he sings, and displaying a great sense of irony and humor, even as he's wailing away on guitar.

For the encore, brothers Taylor and Griffin Goldsmith sang a duet, accompanied only by Taylor's guitar, before the rest of the band joined them on stage.

It's the mark of a good headliner that  you forget about all of the previous bands, and I basically wound up going to what in my mind was a Blitzen Trapper concert and left what I'll now always think of as a Dawes concert.