HEY, JOE
Back in the day, Joe Ely was a gen-u-ine Texas badass, a high-octane 18-wheeler barrelling through the state, second only to Stevie Ray Vaughn in wide-eyed audience adoration. He was as roadhouse as they come, as sly and ornery as he was sensitive and smart, a rocker, a showman and also, occasionally, a balladeer.
That was about 20 years ago, when songs like "Musta Notta Gotta Lotta" slashed and weaved like an NBA point guard.
Ely kicked booty-that of hippie, hipster and good ol' boy alike-with a sweaty fervor at large dancehalls all over the Lone Star State.
What a treat, then, to catch him at our own little roadhouse, the Santa Fe Brewing Company (7 pm Saturday, July 1. $5. 35 Fire Place, 424-3333). OK, so maybe the Brewing Co. ain't so little; it is, actually, a beer-drinking/dancing/pool-playing/shooting-the-shit kind of compound, separated into different sections: upstairs,
indoor stage area, giant patio where bands play in warmer weather, bar and restaurant.
This summer alone, the Brewing Company has hosted an eclectic music lineup: New Wave bands, local bands, singer-songwriter superstars like James McMurtry, nationally known reggae groups, and, of course, Joe Ely.
Let's see…eclectic lineup of local and national bands…seperate rooms…a refreshing survey of the musical spectrum…I'm gonna say it: The Brewing Company is the new Paramount.
Of course, there are differences. The P-mount was dark, loud, more of a nightclub, whereas the Brewing Co. is sunny, bright and more family-oriented. The P-mount had a full bar and a high-energy staff, whereas the Brewing Co. is more laid-back and serves its own (very tasty) beer. And, of course, the P-mount centered around dance music, whereas the Brewing Co. doesn't dabble in that so much.
Still, that's one of the few genres in which the Brewing Co. hasn't dabbled, and it's a dedication to a wide swath of music that makes the Brewing Co. kindred to "the club." What matters most is that hidden away off Hwy. 14 is the new destination of acts that once directed their greasel-fuelled tour buses to the corner of Sandoval and Montezuma, a new place where the Dirty Novels get nasty with sexy regenerated '60s pop one night and D Numbers will blow our collective mind with a set of brain-numbing dance-rock the next. Sure it's a bit different than the old days (of, uh, last year), and yes the drive sucks. But thank god the place is there at all.
GO 'ZO
For those of you who aren't familiar with Ozomatli, let me recommend one thing: Go to the July 2 Second Annual Santa Fe Picnic Concert at the Ft. Marcy ballpark (4 pm, gates at 3:30 pm. $20 advance, $25 gate, free for 12 and under. 409 Washington Ave., 988-1234 for tickets). Go, go, go for two reasons:
First, Ozo's a hell of a band. When it comes to energy, spirit and infectious charisma, no band beats Ozo. The group stuffs a number of Latin musical traditions into a rock framework, then sprinkles a little jazz on top, working up a frothy frenzy with dance-charged percussion-trap kit, congas, cymbals-and the whole thing explodes in a convulsive delirium as Ozo leads a conga line snaking through the crowd.
Santa Feans love this band. Hell, everybody loves this band. Which leads us to reason #2: What better act to headline an event meant as a Santa Fe community gathering than one so saturated with complicated traditions, mixing in a dynamic whirl like socks in a dryer. I'm beginning to believe that FanMan Productions' Jamie Lenfesty's forte is these types of affairs: Family/community gigs that don't suck, where ice cream and beer are equally welcome (yes, there's a Brewing Company beer garden-thanks to Lenfesty for putting the effort in to set one up), where you can picnic or buy a Frito pie, set up the lawn chair and soak up some real-live music, all neighborly like.
So, here's the lowdown: No dogs. No umbrellas or tents or booze may be brought in. But you can bring blankets, lawn chairs, and one sealed bottle of water per person, and food, water and soft drinks will be for sale (though bringing your own is OK).
Supporting Ozo will be Ryan McGarvey, a young blues phenom from Albuquerque; Latin rockers Sol Fire; and the always shimmering country-pop of Hundred Year Flood.
Last year's event, starring Los Lobos, was a blast. Young kids ran the dusty high-school-sized basepaths as their parents danced dorkily. I personally ate two Taos Cow ice cream cones, and the biggest crowd I've ever seen in the outfield, except for Zozobra, mixed, mingled and made out as the sun set.
