What a contrast between the top and bottom of the bill. ZZ Top—arguably in the top 50 all-time American bands for 50+ years—versus the absolute number one band of one year in particular: the timeless Wallflowers, in the year 1997.
Your head doesn’t put them together automatically, but the pairing peanut butter-and-jellies like you wouldn’t believe.
Now, Place Bell is not a building that naturally encourages fan participation. I mean, it doesn’t really have the spirit that haunts a lot of music venues, if you catch my drift. To make matters worse on this night, the low-end mix is a swamp. All the vintage gear on stage is wasted if it goes to a mixing desk that considers the opener an afterthought.
The Wallflowers brought their niche alt-rock Americana blend, fronted by that (nearly) singular voice, to Place Bell anyway. And they brought it with force. I vibed to song after song. Jakob Dylan moves very little on stage, but his charisma emanates and resonates. No matter what the players do, our eyes are focused on him. Like a Roy Orbison figure, his voice is huge, but he barely opens his mouth.
My one and only gripe is with the drummer, who would gear up for these big rock endings and then back off with a petering-out effect I will term “the Peter Effect.” If the drummer’s name is Peter, I apologize—it was unintentional, and I’m sure it won’t stick. If my guitarist reads this, you’re immortalized. Sorry—and you’re welcome.
Jakob Dylan and his band were over way too soon for my liking. With a nice mix of the nostalgic hits from Bringing Down the Horse, some of the stronger material from more recent albums, and a muscular Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers cover of “The Waiting,” it might have been a paint-by-numbers or classic Wallflowers set to anyone who’s seen them multiple times—but to me, and the crowd in my section at least, it was the perfect blend.
The intermission break was a great time for many to grab a beer—or four—for the group, and I got the sense The Wallflowers had been sort of an afterthought to some, but a pleasant surprise during my travels around the venue. As the time ticked down, the backing music morphed into an interesting blend of cowboy hip-hop breakbeats and MC shout-outs. The volume levels went up exponentially, and everyone made it to their seats on time.
The swampy bass of the first set is indeed gone, and even with what looked like a 12- (or more) string bass, the thunder was instead contained, focused—and thus began the melting of our brains!
Zed Zed Top waited five songs in to bring out a hit—“Gimme All Your Lovin’”—but honestly, it didn’t matter. This iconic act was primarily an album band from back in the days when, if your record was good, a DJ would play Side A, tell you the weather forecast, and play Side B. The Top have oodles of songs, and all one needs to do is check out a greybeard mouthing the words in respect with a tough-gut smirk to know the stuff you don’t know is being faithfully reproduced.
The song following “Gimme All Your Lovin’” was awesome, and I tried to Shazam it three times. It didn’t come up, but it lost none of the momentum. A quick glance on Setlist.fm and it turned out to be “Pearl Necklace.” I have it on repeat now, and I know myself—it’s the song I’ll remember from this show forever.
Elwood Francis on bass looks like a bearded Rick Sanchez in a mirrorball jacket.
In “I’m Bad, I’m Nationwide,” we are treated to some impressively muscular choreography, considering this band has been visiting Quebec for five decades!
Surprisingly, the stage set is incredibly minimal. Some Marshall stacks painted with pastel-coloured arrows, and some horizontal LED stacks. And I’m aghast—no screen! I only notice it because I always try to describe the stage, and I’m honestly impressed. I don’t miss the big screen. They don’t need it. The charisma is all in the humans on stage. I mean, the drum riser has a huge, intricately appointed gong, but—yup—somehow your eyes just fall on the players.
By the time “Sharp Dressed Man” comes on, you’d think the place was going to explode—but no—ZZ Top’s fans appreciate it all pretty equally.
The array of funky basses—double-necks, monster 12-strings, and modestly appointed P-Basses—boggles the mind. I lost count. And now, when they play “Legs,” they have matching purple fuzzy boxes.
“Brown Sugar” is their encore opener, all the way from album number one. And the die-hards in the audience live it. The best I can do is be glad the night is not over. It’s been a while since I had my face melted this hard.
How hard is my face melting? It’s melting like a witch in water. Like a popsicle falling in slow motion to the sidewalk. Like I couldn’t keep my eyes closed during the opening of the Ark of the Covenant. Like that. My brain is beginning to ooze out my ear. I forgot my earplugs…
The ZeeZees end the night with “Tube Snake Boogie” and “La Grange,” and we’re all satisfied.
As a blues lover, I’m pretty happy. But to be completely fair to these old masters—if I was a young person who only had modern bands and artists, with their click monitoring and backing tracks and massive screens to shape my tastes in live music—I’d think it was pretty sloppy. But I appreciate a live-playing band and the palpable danger when anything can go wrong.
As I collected my melted face and brain and tried to reform it into something resembling human-looking, I felt full. Indeed, it was a bucket-list moment for me to see one of the true giants of Texas blues rock. I’ll never forget it.
9/10
Review – Mike Rogers
Photos – Ryan Rumpel
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