Recap Blitzen Trapper at The Pabst Theater

Blitzen Trapper not only sounded like about 30 years worth of rock history Monday at The Pabst Theater; it looked like it, too. There were a couple of hippies, an indie-looking lead guitarist, and an arena-rock bassist. Then there was singer-songwriter Eric Earley, who with his gaunt frame, curly mop of mangled black hair, and worn-out flannel shirt, resembled a cross between ’65 Bob Dylan and ’84 Paul Westerberg dressed in early ’90s Neil Young’s clothes.

This isn’t meant to suggest that Blitzen Trapper is overly self-conscious in its reverence for classic rock tradition, but it is certainly somewhat self-conscious. As much as I like the band’s standout murder ballad “Black River Killer,” a highlight of the night and of 2008’s fine Furr, I sometimes wonder if it’s really a great song or an homage to a great song. Built on a well-worn foundation of foreboding story songs established by Young and Johnny Cash—compare how Earley sings "no bail" just like Johnny does on his cover of Loudon Wainwright III's "The Man Who Couldn't Cry"—"Black River Killer" is as much a product of studying old tunes as artistic invention. Earley is a clever songwriter and he’s clearly done his rock history homework, but imitating legends doesn’t make you a legend. When he dismissed his cohorts from the stage so he could strap on a harmonica holder for a one-man, Dylanesque folkie act, you could feel him straining for a weightiness he hasn’t earned yet. 

But even if Earley doesn’t reach the heights of the titans he’s shooting for, he shines as a big talent whenever his embrace of Americana-laced trad rock isn’t quite so mannered. And it doesn’t hurt that the Trapper is a lively and surprisingly versatile backing band, capable of playing both the gentle folk-pop of the always lovely “Furr” and the “Mississippi Queen”-style guitar crunch of “Wild Mountain Nation.” Multi-instrumentalist Marty Marquis and generously bearded drummer Brian Adrian Koch were Earley’s self-deprecating onstage foils, frequently clowning it up whenever they weren’t supplying ace harmony vocals on songs like the stunning “Jericho.”

Loch LomondCJ FoecklerOpeners Loch Lomond are pals with Blitzen Trapper in the Portland, Ore., music scene, but friendship aside, it was sometimes difficult to see how the bands fit together. While it was well-received, Loch Lomond came off as a wee bit precious—one of the songs was called “Elephants And Little Girls,” for Christ’s sake—and overly indebted to The Decemberists, particularly in the pinched-nerve vocals of singer-songwriter Ritchie Young. At times it was like watching employees of the campus coffee shop play together on their night off.