What You Missed: Pharma Sutra and Cotton Jones

While the entire Upstate prepared for a cold snap that would
(apparently) cause havoc and the apocalypse, I was waiting patiently,
and warmly, within the confines of Hub-Bub’s Showroom for another
Friday evening of music. This past Friday’s choices of live music were
Spartanburg’s own Pharma Sutra (great name), and Cotton Jones from
Cumberland, Maryland. As usual, I’ll give you the low down on what you
missed and if it was worth missing.

Now I’m originally from Minnesota, a state that has rough winters
annually. Since moving to the South, I have noticed that the winters
are much milder, and so when snowy weather occurs, people aren’t
really prepared for the effects. On Friday evening, the Showroom
gradually filled with more winter coats, gloves, and scarves than I
have ever seen in the South. I’ll admit, it made the whole atmosphere
a little cozier as people made space for their coats on the long rows
of chairs and couches set up in front of the stage.

An interesting thing I noticed as the place began to fill up was the
number of children in attendance. Families around me discussed their
kids and the activities they were involved in, as well as current
events in their lives. As Pharma Sutra mounted the stage to a round of
cheers, it became apparent that this show was a family affair. The
band even mentioned that one of their fathers wasn’t there, saying
that he was sleeping on the couch at home. We all laughed together,
and it felt like this was a family reunion. One of the guitarists
asked, “If you’re one of my kids, scream!” Both children and adults
screamed back to her. Briefly, I felt connected to that “family” as I
watched the band play happily through its set list.

Pharma Sutra’s brand of rock and roll should be instantly recognizable
to anyone that remembers rock music from the 90s. There were currents
of “Full Moon Fever”-era Tom Petty and the Violent Femmes (which they
covered as well). The 90s feel to the songs also seemed filtered
through a country rock twang on some songs that felt familiar to me.
The warm tones of a Fender Telecaster through some Vox amplifiers
aided this feeling (which cemented the Tom Petty connection for me),
and brought about some great twangy and bluesy E-major chords in many
of their songs. The band members also served as vocalists on many
songs and worked well together to provide energy to the set.

The band was comfortable with the crowd, often interjecting jokes and
quips in between songs. At one point, the bassist, drinking beer from
a wine cup, declared that he was “drinkin’ from my mouth.” To which,
someone responded, “You’re that guy!” Some of these quips seemed like
non sequiturs to me, but they were silly all the same and made the
atmosphere seem comfortable and jovial. The sound did wear on me after
a while, and I joked that it was beginning to sound like
Sleater-Kinney or L7 doing covers of twangy, country pop. But,
overall, the good-natured energy of the group carried me through their
set, and although the time-warp effect the music had on me wasn’t
entirely enjoyable, it was still fun. Especially when the band’s
bassist declared that he was “sweatin’ from [his] pants!” for Cotton
Jones that followed them.

Cotton Jones, originally The Cotton Jones Basket Ride, performed on
Friday with only two members with electric and acoustic guitars
respectively. Normally, Cotton Jones also performs with female vocals
accompanying Michael Nau’s words, but they were absent on Friday’s
performance. Once the two were on stage, Nau told us “This is our
first time playing as a couple up here.” This was disappointing, as
after the show I said to myself, “These songs would have been great
with a woman’s voice harmonizing.” But, what the crowd got that night
was interesting enough to be worth seeing.

The familial and raucous atmosphere of Pharma Sutra quickly dissipated
as Cotton Jones began playing their first song. The room became more
subdued and quiet as the bluesy voice of Michael Nau wailed
plaintively on stage. The acoustic guitar hammered out the melody and
the beat as the band’s electric guitarist provided atmosphere with
gentle melodies utilizing reverb and delay. Upon hearing the band, I
immediately thought of A) lonely cowboys singing blues out on the
range, or B) lonely New Yorkers singing blues in their casket-size
apartments in the Village, though I think I preferred that first
image.

Each song built upon similar themes of melancholy, love and belonging,
and kept a high level of intensity as Nau’s voice seemed to transform
into both Patsy Cline and Ella Fitzgerald as the songs contemplated
their subjects with adoration and longing. There were moments where I
felt this combination of intensity and emotion could be too much, but
each time, the song slid back into a good-natured and cheerful mood
that offset the peaks of emotion that could be overpowering. It walked
the fine line between too much heart and not enough, though sometimes
the territory of the lyrics was a little too familiar from one song to
the next.

After a few songs, it felt like we had all been transported to a quiet
campfire out in the woods at night. At one point, Nau thanked us all
for being “still,” and I wasn’t sure what else you could do to music
like this but slow dance with someone you like/love or stare into the
fire/moon. The whole experience was an interesting take on lonely
ballads with Nau’s heartfelt, soulful singing, with the electric
guitar, which desperately needed more volume, provided needed depth to
take this music out of the coffee shop and onto the stage. The imagery
that Cotton Jones’s music put into my head was sometimes more
interesting than the music itself, but I wager that seeing the group
play with all of its members adds the depth and harmony that I was
missing on Friday. Hopefully they’ll return with the full ensemble.

After the show, we all bundled back up and headed out the door, and I
was left pondering the mash up of that night’s performances. What
started as an energetic blast from the past with an excited and united
crowd transformed into a quiet and hushed room focused on the
melancholic blues of Cotton Jones. This wasn’t as jarring as it
sounds. It was a worthwhile, but also slightly flawed, evening of
opposites. A contemplative moment with a warm burrito might have gone
well with the bluesy night, but the storm made me nervous, so I rushed
home instead. Maybe next week.