Rocky Votolato Live!

Rocky Votolato
Abbey Pub, Chicago
Friday, April 6, 2007

During an ultra-abbreviated set Friday night, Rocky Votolato seemed out to prove he’s no self-destructive sally, despite what his records might say about him.

Tattoos pouring out of his shirt sleeves, a closely-cropped Votolato ran roughshod over last year’s mostly acoustic Makers (Barsuk), in anticipation of a summer follow-up. He opened, quite innocently, with the Peter, Paul & Mary-ish “White Daisy Passing,” a blatant ode to giving up, one of the keys being “if I could dig a grave/I’d then climb underground for good.” But the rest of the 40-minute slot was dedicated to anything but surrender.

It wasn’t quite Dylan at Newport, but the Telecaster he then donned seemed to charge his songs with more venom than they could sometimes handle. “The Night’s Disguise” swung from embarrassed apology to faulting a companion’s expectations. By this time he was fully revved, and the biting “Makers” was able to move above the organic/electric switchoff to skewer any romanticism propping up suicide, properly invigorating the title’s reference to top-shelf bourbon.

But it was a reachback to the centerpiece of his previous album, 2003’s Suicide Medicine (Second Nature), providing a flashlight to future optimism. “Montana” acknowledged “the sun’s getting easier for me to look at,” and Votolato’s fervent whine melted not into aggression, but appreciation and acceptance.

— Steve Forstneger

Category: Live Reviews, Weekly