The suits were sharp, the banjos were duelling, and Jake Vaadeland looked as though Porter Wagoner had personally approved his wardrobe. From the opening exchanges, Vaadeland and the Sturgeon River Boys turned The Hare and Hounds, King’s Heath, into a thoroughly convincing outpost of 1950s country entertainment. With nimble picking and songs catchy enough to follow you home, this talented Canadian outfit delivered traditional country and bluegrass with the precision of a well-oiled machine and the mischief of a band having an exceptionally good time.
First, though, a word for support act Dom Glynn, appearing without his band, His Sunday Best. A self-confessed “Birmingham traitor”, having spent the past decade in London, Glynn proved an accomplished guitarist and performer. His Cigarette Song was a particular highlight, a love song to a habit that rarely receives such tenderness, with the neat lines: “I’ve gotta let you go / I’ll miss your pretty red-haired glow / Your perfume staying on my clothes.” It was a solid opening set, and Glynn returns to Birmingham with the full band on 6 November at Kitchen Garden Café.
The Hare and Hounds, tucked away in one of Birmingham’s more hipster corners, offered a dark, stylish room with both a pub below and a bar at the back. The disco ball suggested that other musical possibilities might be available, but this was a night for country and bluegrass, with the occasional excursion into vintage advertising.
Sharp duds were a hallmark across the band, from Vaadeland’s fringed monochrome suit with its musical-note detailing to the coordinated outfits worn by the Sturgeon River Boys. The music matched the stylish wardrobe. The arrangements were crisp, the playing immaculate and the choreography sufficiently precise to suggest that spontaneity had been rehearsed darn thoroughly.
The band’s easy rapport prevented the polish from becoming clinical. Vaadeland might have been the nominal frontman, but this was very much a collective performance, with the musicians moving around the stage, exchanging winks and taking affectionate swipes at one another. Nobody had been hired simply to stand at the back and keep time.
Vaadeland’s own contribution was particularly impressive. His vocals had the clarity, character and conviction that this material demanded. He also had a fine ear for the old country entertainer’s art. The easy patter, genial addresses to “friends and neighbours”, and assurance that it was going to be a “mighty fine evening” recalled the domestic warmth of Hank Williams’ Health and Happiness Shows.
The tightly packed set drew on a collection of songs that had clearly served the band well, including More and More, Be a Farmer or a Preacher, Ain’t Going Back to Nashville and One More Dollar to Go. These were not merely faithful recreations of an older sound; they were exceptionally catchy numbers, propelled by brisk rhythms, strong melodies and Vaadeland’s assured vocals. The audience responded with whistles, hoots and enthusiastic contributions.
A gospel section offered a change of pace, while Jaxon Lalonde’s banjo playing came to the fore during a spirited rendition of the classic Flint Hill Special. Baritone guitarist Joel Rohs, meanwhile, was introduced as the band’s “guitar-picking bus driver” on their Canadian tours, with Vaadeland cheekily observing that he was one of the finest guitar pickers in the band. Jake “Cousin” Smithies, from Sheffield rather than Saskatchewan, drove the sound with an energetic and restless double bass and a flash of boyish mischief.
The mock advertisements for Diet Pepsi and Union scented pomade extended the 1950s conceit beyond the clothes and into the show itself. It was a witty touch, demonstrating that Vaadeland understood the whole package: the music, the humour, the patter and the bygone age of radio advertisements’ place in musical programming. The result was a show that felt lovingly crafted, with sharply observed nods to retro style.
There was a generous helping of showbiz to Vaadeland and the Sturgeon River Boys. The sharp suits, choreographed movements, vintage advertisements and carefully timed gags made no attempt to disguise the fact that this was a carefully curated show. But showmanship has long been a perfectly respectable tradition in country music, and the important thing to this reviewer is having the substance to back it up. Vaadeland and his band had that in spades.
The playing was sharp, the vocals held their own throughout, and the melodies had the sort of staying power that would see them hitching up to your wagon and following you home. Beneath the showmanship lay genuinely talented musicians with a fine collection of tunes and an obvious affection for the music they played. The studied showbiz packaging came with real talent, warmth, and the sense that this was a band having a “real swell” time.
Vaadeland and the Sturgeon River Boys brought old-timey country and bluegrass bang up to date without sanding away the qualities that made the music worth preserving. The arrangements were tight, the humour gloriously daft and the melodies memorable. They left the impression of a band that knew exactly what it was doing, had the talent to pull it off and was having an absolute blast together.
This was a thoroughly entertaining live show, and one that left you wanting more. Anyone with an affection for country should catch them live. The tunes lingered on the journey home, and the smile lasted rather longer than the pomade jokes deserved. A mighty fine evening, indeed.
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