Live Review:
Al Foul and the Shakes
at Che's Lounge
By Luke Knipe
Photo by James Hudson
It has been said that Tucson is full of characters. This observation is especially succinct in July, when the weather narrows the city’s categories of inhabitants down to (1) those who wish to be here and (2) those who are unable to leave. Al Foul is a better character than the best author could hope to contrive. He is anachronistic, but he is post-modern too. He is cool, but also, well… foul. He sings, and he’s not just good; he’s great. But there will always be some (your mother, for instance) who would not approve. And thus he stands at a cultural division. That’s precisely what good artists do, and Al Foul is a very good artist.
I could tell you a story about a party I went to eleven years ago, when I was just a kid, at which a brilliant post-rockabilly combo called Al Foul and the Shakes showed up, set up and proceeded to burn down the barn. In full disclosure, I should note that it made a strong impression on my youthfully impressionable mind. But I won’t tell that story. I’ll instead tell the story that unfolded last night at Che’s, an aesthetically-minded hangout that seems to know what it’s doing, where Al Foul has played before, and where Al Foul, God willing, will play again.
The band is designed to have three members. Al is the star, but drummer Lucas Mosely, who stands and plays a modified cocktail kit, borrows the spotlight at amusing intervals. Inordinately, last night The Shakes had four members, because jazzy French guy Naim Amor joined them for the entire show. The performance might have been fine without Naim, but with him, it was outstanding. Amor cannot shed the fish-out-of-water quality he embodies in Tucson, where he and his taller wife, chanteuse Marianne Dissard insist on living, but he is rightfully adored by the local music community. One of his biggest fans is Calexico’s Joey Burns, who, if he keeps at it, will someday be as good a guitar player as Naim. Famously, Joey sometimes plays a white, asymmetrical “Airline” guitar, because he knows it looks fabulous. Naim, who is less concerned about looks, played a Jaguar last night (Marianne said he hadn't played it in quite some time-ed.). He amused his bandmates and audience by making it sound like Dick Dale.
I was reminded of Johnny Cash’s famous Folson Prison concert by Foul’s cover of Cash’s “Cocaine Blues.” Al gyrates with the same jaded exuberance as Cash, and often with a similarly intimidating intensity. But Al Foul is better than Johnny Cash. Yes, he really is. And if he had been around in the halcyon summers of Elvis, Johnny and Jerry Lee, we might be witnessing our grandparents unashamedly treasure their Al Foul records today. Because of this, there is an element of heartbreak to watching Al Foul press on, seemingly always deserving less notoriety than he’s ever received. But if you look closer, you see that it’s not really notoriety that he wants. Rather, what he wants is for everybody to have a good time. That’s what he tries for. To his credit, and to our good fortune, he seems to always succeed.
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