Matthews and Co. seemed weary

(Credit: Amber Signman)

During its 3-hour set last Friday night at Louisville Slugger Field, Dave Matthews and Co. appeared tired. Not just physically tired.  Tired of playing music with each other. Or maybe it was concern for their sax player, LeRoi Moore, who was recently injured in an ATV accident.

Stony-faced behind sunglasses, violinist Boyd Tinsley’s jamming looked more compulsory than inspired. Sax replacement Jeff Coffin, of Béla Fleck and the Flecktones, did a yeoman’s job, but he’s no LeRoi Moore. With their pasted-on smiles, Matthews and drummer Carter Beauford looked like they were trying to compensate.

Trust me, I’ve seen enough DMB concerts to know. Before I burned out on their music, I saw upwards of fifty shows from ‘91 to ‘98. I once saw them play on a hay-wagon in their hometown of Charlottesville, Va. Take that as an establishment of DMB authority, not a confession. I was pumped for this show, my first in 10 years.

The band wasn’t the only disinterested party. Except for the 1,000 or so fans up near the stage, the scene was more cocktail party than rapt audience. In the far-from-capacity infield, people held phones to their ears and chatted with their backs to the stage -- at $65 a ticket. 

Even classics like “Two Step,” “Ants Marching,” “Dancing Nancies,” and “Seek Up” elicited little reaction. Cover-songs “Burning Down the House” and “Sledge Hammer” perked everyone up, but not by much.

It’s an ominous sign when a band’s cover-songs get more reaction than its originals.

Used to be, it only took a few notes to “Ants Marching” to whip a stadium into a frenzy. These days, the band resorts to choreographed gimmickry: bassist Stefan Lessard takes his cordless bass for a trip around stage, like its his turn to act excited. The concert lights are hot-wired to Dave’s guitar, so they blink when he strums. 

Regardless of what you think of its music, DMB was a band that captured the imagination of many people in a very authentic way. Dave was a sort of oddball shaman, a peripatetic jam-band frontman. He wore baggy pajama bottoms that billowed as he danced. He made doo-doo jokes between songs. Now he wears designer jeans. I hope Jim James never wears designer jeans.

Yes, that’s Jim James of Louisville-based jam-band My Morning Jacket.  A shamanistic frontman who is capturing the imagination of many people in a very authentic way.  Apparently, James likes to sing and record songs in an old farm silo. Matthews used to live in an old silo.  

I hate to think how many times DMB -- a group of seriously talented musicians -- has played “Ants Marching” to close a show.  Or how many times Matthews and Beauford have crooned “Seek up” to open a show.  The chorus goes, “You seek up an emotion, and your cup is overflowing.  You seek up an emotion, sometimes your well is dry.”  Friday night, the well was pretty much dry.   

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