Devendra Banhart preview

Devendra Banhart
Portage Theater, Chicago
Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Devendra Banhart will probably never change from the 2004 version, as far as the public is concerned. He’ll always be the wild-eyed, freakishly hirsute international hippie who briefly lit a spark under indie rockers’ dormant appreciation for out-there folk music. He won’t be no damned rock ‘n’ roller.

But that’s what he has become. Banhart, as he showed on tour for Cripple Crow (Young God) in 2005, didn’t see himself wearing a wicker halo and playing guitar amongst the lillies for the rest of his life. Like a lot of young Texans before him, classic rock courses through his veins, and, despite the Spanish-folk side roads and haunting piano numbers, this fall’s Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon (XL) is someone barely supressing an urge.

It wouldn’t be a problem if he didn’t seem so serious about it. Whereas his old albums bore passing resemblance to Guided By Voices records with asides, seemingly unfinished tracks, and jokey jingles, Smokey is 16 tracks polished and ready for your consideration. There’s not a whole hell of a lot of fun. “Shabop Shalom” packages some giddy giggles as a goofy Spanish rewrite of “Love Potion Number 9,” but “So Long Old Bean,” which begins as a stoner cowboy ditty, becomes overwhelmed by its pastoral production.

No one’s saying there’s no interesting shit on the new album. It can be extremely dark and introspective for one (“Seaside”), and even remotely sexy (“Bad Girl”). Banhart’s imagination is always going and can handle end-of-the-road T. Rex funk (“Lover”), second-encore rockers (“Tonada Yanomaminista”), and fully indulgent gospel rock (“Saved”) without making an ass of himself. He’s in trouble because none of them are a strong suit even though they’re all presented as if he really means them.

At Logan Square Auditorium in 2005, as soon as Banhart and band finished a rock number a member of the audience yelled “Judas!” in mock Dylan-at-Manchester fashion. Banhart’s response is going to have to be more than “Play fucking loud,” however.

Matteah Baim opens.

— Kevin Keegan

Category: Stage Buzz, Weekly