Garland Jeffreys / Paramus Picture Show / June 12, 2006
FOREWORD: Brooklyn-bred singer-songwriter Garland Jeffreys was a multi-cultured artist with an expansive stylistic range from soul to rock to reggae. His most popular competition became a semi-hit for unheralded rockers, the British Lions. In ’07, a year after this set at the now-defunct Paramus Picture Show, Jeffreys delivered respectful comeback, I’m Alive. This article originally appeared in Aquarian Weekly.
While inconspicuously walking down the aisle to the stage of this converted movie theatre for a criminally under-attended two-and-a-half hour Paramus Picture Show gig, biracial Brooklyn troubadour Garland Jeffreys politely quipped ‘how ya doing?’ before entertained adoring fans that hung on his every word. Alternately wearing several black and white fedoras that metaphorically matched the racial dichotomies of his mulatto ancestry, Jeffreys initially performed solo acoustic like he’d originally done in the early ‘70s at West Village coffeehouse Gerdes (where he paid to perform onstage).
Commendably working for goodwill charities when not rendering compensated performances, the sixtysomething Jeffreys’ voice held up fine, crackling only a tad at his upper register as his aching baritone dispatched vivid reflections and childhood confessionals. He brought up long-time partner Alan Friedman for the balladic lullaby, “New York Skyline,” before a full band consisting of veteran musicians (Mekons drummer Steve Goulding, bassist Bryan Stanley, electric guitarist Mark Bosch, and Zecca Esquibel) joined the close-knit duo for the scruffy “Rough And Ready,” danceably exuberant “Jump Jump,” and other ‘70s/’80s fare. The Gospel-derived anti-prejudicial “Don’t Call Me Buckwheat” got the crowd clapping along while “Matador” seemed eerily reminiscent of Van Morrison circa ’68.
After a short break, Jeffreys began the second set alone with two sullen down home acoustical Delta Blues. Then, he brought back his ‘Coney Island Playboys’ for the riveting rocker “Modern Lovers” and rootsy covers of Dylan’s “Don’t Look Back,” Muddy Waters’ machismo “King Bee,” and Jimmy Reed’s Bright Lights Big City.” His blisteringly nostalgic guitar anthem, “R.O.C.K.” and a perky version of ? & the Mysterians’ heartbroken garage classic “96 Tears” were saved for uproarious encores.
Jeffreys’ poignancy, grace, and dignity have only increased with age, as the multi-culti minstrel went through subtle Blues, contrapuntal reggae, and sociopolitical folk with relative ease (despite a few mike problems). A reluctant hero of the asphalt jungle, the Sheepshead Bay native asked for no quarter. He’s currently working on new material for indie release perhaps this summer.
