Last updated on December 22nd, 2017 at 03:50 am
As the smooth, dynamically solid music washed over me, and my senses absorbed the moment, I looked up to the high ceilings of the elegant theater and my mind drifted away, into an imagined conversation.
Longhair: “Look, if I’m going to tour with you guys, playing the skins and whatnot, I need to be front and center.”
Brad Corrigan (founding member and percussionist): “Um, okay, I guess. But I’m going to play a trash can.”
Longhair: “Whatever. Oh, and I play standing up. And if you have a bass drum, it can’t have more attack in the mix than my floor tom. And if YOU play tambourine, I play tambourine! Thems the breaks.”
Brad: “Sure, I guess.”
(turns to lead singer/songwriter Chad Stokes)
“But he’s not getting a triangle. I’m on triangle duties, and that’s that!”
So, in my mind, with these details figured out, Dispatch set out on the road again.
They have no opening band, no expectations, no rules to follow. This is a band that helped create the freedom from corporate interference that is now dominant in the expression of the music industry. They play for themselves, for their fans, for worthy causes. They play when they want and how they want, so I knew when I looked up and saw lights on the ceiling, it was no accident.
Tonight’s “Acoustic Evening with Dispatch” wasn’t that, exactly. It wasn’t really acoustic at all. Stokes (or, um, Urmston?) played several acoustic guitars, but also, at one point, a Bo Diddley-style box guitar. The nameless utility players, who expertly carried a lot of the heavy lifting of the lead and melodies (and, with Longhair, the percussion), were plugged into electric bass, electric guitar, and an electric organ.
Also, a third of the original band was not present. Halfway through the first set at Minneapolis’ Pantages Theater, the group took a moment to acknowledge the absence of guitarist Pete ‘Repeat’ Francis. While he did work on the band’s new album, America, Location 12, Pete has taken leave of touring duties to deal with his depression.
So, there was a strange feeling in witnessing A Not Really Acoustic Evening with Most of Dispatch. It was not a show designed to win anyone over. The audience, a sold-out crowd, filed in slowly, sipping cups of wine provided by bartenders in pressed shirts with stiff cuffs and collars.
Dispatch’s fans are grown ups. While there was an occasional stoner beard here or dinosaur-pajama-clad fan there, most of these folks left the office early to situate the babysitter and budget time for a quick toke before catching the Uber. “A night out! Yeah, we’re going out on a Monday. Only for Dispatch!”
They knew what they were getting themselves into. I, at least right away, did not. I tried to get my girlfriend to buy me a pack of Sour Patch Kids but, although they were on display at the bar, the air of the night seemed more classy than such an action would have allowed. The members of Dispatch, both individually and as a group, are dedicated to humanitarian causes, and a better purchase on the evening was a bracelet the band was selling in order to raise money for families affected by gun violence, especially because the band made a big deal out of letting the audience know about it.
Nearly half the crowd was still absent from their seats at the 8 pm start time, but they meandered in after a five-minute hold. The stage was bathed in a thin layer of light and fog, and the band entered without introduction or ceremony. These guys have been at this a long time and musically they have the goods. Their stage setup was simple and direct, the most dramatic element consisting of 1K flashbulbs and work lights aimed at the audience. Their dress was informal. Chad wore his poof-ball cap as he bounced around and played the first few songs.
When the band was in its prime, after finding independent success during the fledgling years of Internet file sharing, but before their indefinite hiatus in the early 2000s, they found the stress of being the “biggest band you’ve never heard of” less than appealing. Now, a decade later, they seem at ease.
The entire first set was from the new album, which made the energy even more strange. The “Acoustic” element mentioned on the ticket referred to the folk vibe of the material. Many of the longtime Dispatch fans were about as familiar with the songs as I am— but the band was tight, the harmonies on point, and the message of positivity and progress was strong. The wall of percussion, oscillating from enthusiastic staccato accents of the folk-style lyrics to college level drum circle wacking and tapping, was occasionally so powerful that it would drown out the acoustic guitar and vocals.
The new album is folk rock, very nearly protest songs. It can’t really be called a departure since Dispatch’s sound has always been difficult to pin down. They dabble in different genres with ease and comfort, exploring whatever musical impulse seems best and, while not as poignant as giants like Dylan or Young, the songs are catchy and positive enough to clap along with. At times, the messages of hope and social justice seem vague and unsure, as if the band is singing these things to convince themselves and we’re welcome to join in.
Even with the unfamiliar material, the audience was with them. Near the end of the set, one man in the front row (one of two rows added for the event— the seats looked less comfortable than the majority folding theater-style seats, which may have had something to do with his action) rose to his feet. Dude wasn’t about to stay seated for this! “Come on, guys!” he yelled at those behind him, as if the polite decision to remain seated was the wrong one. “Get up!”
He didn’t have to tell them twice. The audience obliged.
After the break, the second set was peppered with older jams from the catalog. Dispatch has taken their art by the reigns, proving they have more staying power than a download count would have them submit to. Again, one has to wonder who they are proving it to.
It doesn’t matter to me. I had a good time. And… I know I made a joke about it earlier… but… that triangle though… awesome.
*[All photos by Christine Schorn of Christine Photography]
