Concert Review: Marshall Crenshaw at the Turning Point Music Cafe, Piermont, NY

Marshall Crenshaw is not exactly a closely held music secret, but he has never become a household name, as it appeared he would become in the early 1980s, when Robert Gordon’s cover version of his “Someday, Someway” reached # 76 on the Billboard Hot 100 and Crenshaw’s own self-titled LP earned critical acclaim. It was his misfortune that, already an unabashed throwback frequently likened to Buddy Holly, he lost momentum in a music industry changing styles and even, through MTV, promotional models.

I wish Crenshaw had achieved more commercial success over the years and that he had released more collections of his own work than his dozen or so CDs or EPs. But I was in more of a celebratory than a wishing mood earlier this week. After all, I—along with a small but equally appreciative audience—would be catching his act at The Turning Point Music Cafe in Piermont, NY.

The last time I’d seen him in this Rockland County music mecca, 17 years before, had been under adverse conditions for the singer-songwriter: he was struggling with a bad cold and trying not to strain his voice. But he still impressed me with his perfectionism, his instant recall of the entire history of rock ‘n’ roll, and—not coincidentally—a delightful spontaneity. (In tribute to George Harrison, who had died three days before, he performed a Beatles song, “I’m Only Sleeping.”) I resolved to see him again if I had the chance. Nearly two decades later, I finally did.

Performing, as he had before, without a backup band, Crenshaw revealed a songcraft as durable as ever, with irresistible hooks, sturdy riffs issuing from just his own guitar, and song titles that linger in the memory (“Fantastic Planet of Love”). Threaded throughout his 90-minute set were several tunes that made his 1982 album one of the most notable debuts of the pop era (“There She Goes Again,” “Cynical Girl,” and “Mary Anne”), as well as the jangling centerpiece of his Field Day follow-up LP, “Whenever You’re on My Mind.”

In the mid-‘90s, Crenshaw collaborated with Jesse Valenzuela and Robin Wilson on the Gin Blossoms’ hit single, “Till I Hear It From You.” This time, though, he highlighted several philosophical but propulsive songs composed with Dan Bern, including “Driving and Dreaming” and “Live and Learn.”

In addition to being a singer-songwriter, Crenshaw is also often billed in advertising for his shows as a “rock historian”—a nod not only to his early career stint playing the Broadway musical stage review Beatlemania and Buddy Holly in the denouement of the film La Bamba, but also serving as a deejay for the radio show “The Bottomless Pit” and writing Hollywood Rock: A Guide to Rock 'n' Roll in the Movies. His past shows have included cover versions of Bob Dylan (“My Back Pages”), Bruce Springsteen ("All or Nothing At All"), even ABBA (“Knowing Me Knowing You”). This time, he demonstrated anew his deep affinity for Holly with a cover of the latter's “Crying, Waiting, Hoping.”'

Crenshaw’s between-songs patter—sometimes employed while he was tuning his guitar—was concise, pointed, and when not informative, hilarious. In the case of the “informative,” he noted that the Holly tune was among the last home recordings made before his fatal plane crash in 1959. His “hilarious” explanations dealt with the origin of his song “What Do You Dream Of?” (reading a Cher magazine interview in which the pop diva opined helpfully that “everyone sleeps alone”) and a recent use for “Someday, Someway” (on Drew Barrymore’s Netflix series on Southern California real estate and cannibalism, “Santa Clarita Diet”).

Over the course of his career, Crenshaw has created roughly 150 songs, the overwhelming majority of which are marvels of the power pop genre. For whatever reason, at age 65, the compulsion to compose does not seem to burn as intensely, but the urge to perform live persists. His Turning Point audience benefited from that latter tendency this week, and one hopes that, alone or without others, Crenshaw will have another wellspring left in him, much like the decade-older David Crosby (whom I blogged about earlier this week).

The photo of Marshall Crenshaw accompanying this post was taken live in New York City, Sept. 5, 2010, by Ronzoni (talk).