Bar Deluxe is the little big bar in Salt Lake—they don’t seem to get the same press as other clubs or the same caliber bands coming through, but it’s a great space–open and inviting–and has a great view of the stage from all sides. Some great things happen there, like Ryan Ashley Workman’s 40th birthday party a couple years ago with Pink Lightning and other local musical luminaries. Occasional SLUG contributor Brian Kubarycz’s paintings on the wall add an aggressively artsy touch to the experience. 

This weekend, there was a lot going on in Salt Lake. On Saturday, you might have seen people walking around downtown in running attire from the Salt Lake Marathon or cosplay get-up from ComicCon, as well as a number of bands playing local venues. But this show was a chance to see some touring acts as well as local noteworthies, especially a former local band making a name for themselves touring after a recent SXSW appearance. 


Portland singer/songwriter Ike Fonseca was strumming an acoustic guitar and singing in a mid-to-lower register, and if he was reminiscent of acoustic arrangements of Social Distortion songs, it’s not surprising that he has played with Johnny Two-Bags of Social D. Some of his lyrics were similar as well: "The preacher man says I’m still going to hell…" and "Better not to sweat the small things…" 


Local singer/songwriter Aaron Walcott is all about the small things, in a big way. His meandering songwriting style reminds me of Brooklyn indie balladeers Ida, Sea Change-era Beck, Nick Drake, and when his voice transitioned to an upper register, the late, great Jeff Buckley. Finger picking a classical guitar with nylon strings allowed for fuller resonation, and his set was poetic and romantic, as opposed to the Johnny Cash–influenced Fonseca. 


There is a certain formality with the Spanish guitar, but it’s a poetic type of formality—one that feels emotionally lush and rich, and affords a vulnerability in the lyrics. "I’m writing you a letter…" is how he began a song about among other things seemingly left to the wind. He perhaps found a common note with the ComicCon crowd—not that there were any visible—in a song called, "Red Shift," in which he described a phenomena—"till you wouldn’t be able to see a star anymore." He promised a surprise, which, near the end of his set was "a fucked up elk tooth" he gave to a lucky audience member. Here’s somebody with a gentle yet affable way with an audience, who shows signs of some impressive talents to develop.


Callow, the headliner, took the stage third—as is seemingly the case with local bands (in this case, Tavaputs) willing to play later and the out-of-towner wanting to get their workday over with. Driving through the desert from a show the night before in Reno, the two-piece, originally from Salt Lake, is starting to make a name for themselves, with their second CD, Blue Spells, released late last year on Portland, OR–based NXNW Records. Last month, they played SXSW at Red Eye Fly, a non-official venue known for showcasing underground punk bands, to give a taste of what drummer/keyboardist/singer Sami Knowles calls "ghost western indie rock." Guitarist/singer Red Moses noted, “It was great to play for people from other countries; they responded really well.” 


After the comparatively lush, vibrant lyrical landscapes of Walcott and Fonseca, Callow’s musical vistas seemed bleak, sparse and somewhat desolate. The song titles told it all: "Alone," "Hard Man, Old Horse," "Always About the Ones Who Have It All," "Dead To Me"—only seven in all, but enough create a worldview—somehow indigenous to the Southwest—with Moses’ slightly gravelly vocal tone, and a great guitar tone built of longing and disappointment. That might not be enough to sustain such a musical enterprise, but with the counterpoint of Knowles’ voice, they combine to rail against the darkness, emptiness of the great open spaces and solitude of the road. At times, his guitar thunders above her drums—at other moments, her keyboards add an orchestral atmosphere. Occasionally, the sound is like the ebb and flow of the tide—perhaps that water on the horizon is a desert mirage? They are actually anything but emotionally callow. It’s really about his voice and what he is saying with it, which is considerable.


The band Tavaputs, which has been playing around locally a lot, sounds very much like alt-country bands along the lines of Magnolia Electric Company. In fact, vocalist Matt Laser sounds remarkably like the late Jason Molina of MagElCo. This evening, Laser was ill and Ben Kilbourne took over vocal duties, and seemed to waver a bit on some numbers, but the band has the perfect alt-country sound, with the bassist and drummer even throwing in a few slightly porgy fills. Their open arrangements have an emotional tone that ranges from placid to intense. Like the plateau in Southern Utah for which they were named, the product of geological and erosion, like Callow, they find a way to create a sense of richness from an emotional landscape that is, at times, harsh and forbidding.