By: David Schultz

Their name’s The Hold Steady but people call them Sonny Bono; they’re one half of an odd pairing that people just seem to love. At first blush, a twin bill featuring the whip smart indie-sensation that now calls Brooklyn, New York their home with the (mostly) Alabama born and bred Drive-By Truckers seems like a mismatch and in all honesty, it’s supposed to. Part of the allure of the ongoing Rock and Roll Means Well tour is the ability to see two bands that have had critics tongues wagging since the turn of the century. Scratching beneath the surface, the two bands aren’t that dissimilar: both make bank on phenomenally well written songs that capture a breadth of emotion and tell a powerful story in a modicum of words. Last week, the two powerhouses came to New York City for a pair of shows at Terminal 5, flip-flopping the headlining spot like Mitt Romney currying political favor.

Their name’s The Hold Steady but people call them the Dean Martin; they’re the epitome of retro cool. If this were the Fifties, The Hold Steady would look like one big bad band of hipsters; nowadays, it’s hard to believe that the coolest band in the world has members that don Buddy Holly style glasses, wear neo Zoot-suits and dance the dork-shuffle like Franz Nicolay. It’s in their earnest lack of style that they are the most stylish. Finn delivers his lyrics in a dry sardonic voice, narrating a story as much as singing a song, selling it with the same verve as poet raging for justice in a smoky basement full of radicals. His empathic knack for succinctly capturing the follies and hormone-fueled rampages of adolescence customarily draws comparisons to Bruce Springsteen. On stage though, he’s much more Elvis Costello than The Boss. As for the music, Tad Kubler (guitar), Nicolay (keyboards), Galen Polivka (bass) and Bobby Drake (drums) deliver relatively uncomplicated licks, owing a heavy debt to choppy punk rock and Fifties rock and roll. For their seventy-five minute set, they mixed in equal parts of Separation Sunday’s guitar onslaught and Stay Positive’s arena rock bombast with Kubler’s guitar work ranging from deadly incisive to Van Halen quality ironic cheese.

Their name’s Drive-By Truckers but people call them William Faulkner; they’re astute chroniclers of the plight of the South. Where Finn populates his songs with inebriated youths ineffectually stumbling towards the next high or away from the effects of the last one, Patterson Hood and Mike Cooley fill theirs with blue collar, backwoods kindred souls. They passed the lead vocals back and forth between them throughout their set, balancing Cooley’s incisive vocals on songs like “Carl Perkins’ Cadillac” with Hood’s insistent pleas on “Putting People On The Moon.” Not possessed of Finn’s quick wit, Hood and Cooley bare their souls, able to provoke an emotional response not with a fine turn of a phrase but with simple words and great honesty. Before launching into “Sands Of Iwo Jima,” Hood expressed his amazement over Obama’s election by telling the story of his great uncle, a staunch Southerner, who after years of racial politics went into a voting booth at 88 years of age and cast his ballot for an African-American. If you need the significance spelled out for you, then these might not be the bands for you.

Their name’s The Hold Steady but people call them Mugsy Bogues; they like to play with the big boys. One of the biggest differences between the two bands became clear when Craig Finn reemerged during for the Truckers encore of “Let There Be Rock.” Gazing longingly at one of the Costco-sized bottles of Jack Daniels that are never far from the Truckers side, Finn beckoned towards bassist Shonna Tucker with a gesture that asked, “May I?” The blonde bassist’s response seemed akin to something along the lines of, “Fuck yeah Bubba, do some damage.” Finn’s eyes may have been bigger than his liver: in contrast to the healthy gulps taken by Hood throughout the night, Finn sips were extremely dainty. He meant well though.

Their name’s Drive-By Truckers but people call them Tony Tarasco; they were done in by the partisan hometown crowd. For the Thursday night show, The Hold Steady helmed the opening slot but played the set as if they were headliners, populating the early part of their set with favorites like “Stuck Between Stations,” “Sequestered In Memphis” and You’re Little Hoodrat Friend,” the latter receiving a nice wailing chorus from Hood. After the Steady, the Truckers set was a relatively average affair, owing in part to having to follow the hometown heroes but primarily due to its similarity to their Terminal 5 set from last March. The Truckers set came alive when Finn, Kubler and Nicolay returned for a shambling version of “Let There Be Rock” and a raucous romp through Jim Carroll’s “People Who Died.” While Cooley prowled anxiously, Finn minced around the stage and the good-natured familiarity between the two bands became quite evident when Hood evinced wild delight at catching Finn mocking his expansive arm gestures behind his back.

Their name’s The Hold Steady but people call them the Fountain of Youth; they will make you feel young again. The Drive-By Truckers: they’ll get your blood pumping too.

Labels: Drive By Truckers, The Hold Steady