North of Houston: Live At 54 BELOW - Michael Cerveris & Loose Cattle 2013
About the album
When the snazzy 54 Below Supper Club asked Michael Cerveris & Loose Cattle repeatedly to play, the band dragged their boots in typically disorganized fashion. What was this shabby downtown bunch going to do uptown in such plush surroundings? Well, the same ramshackle thing they always did, as it turned out. At least it was literally underground. And then, on the eve of their residency, Hurricane Sandy made the psychic distance between New Orleans and New York seem very small indeed.
After 5 days spent in the cold and dark, it seemed unlikely the shows would go on. But all the same, they carried instruments and walked miles across bridges, rode bikes, huddled in cars to practice with a heater on and squeezed on top of each other into a Broadway dressing room to keep playing--and to keep their minds off how creepy it was in pitch black lower Manhattan and how precarious this whole civilization thing was after all.
And the shows did go on. The first one was the Friday post-storm. A surprising number of hearty souls braved the lack of transportation and power. The night started heavy with the weight of what friends, families and neighbors in the Rockaways and Jersey Shore were digging out from under. Just being around people felt good, and songs like “Get Down River” and “Evangeline” got added to the set and took on more meaning. They learned (ok, half learned) Electricity at sound check as a kind of ode to wishful thinking. And Lo and Behold, by the end of the set, word trickled in that power was coming back on slowly in their homes downtown...not saying they made it happen, but....
By the end, worry and uncertainty was giving way to relief and resilience and a commitment to celebrating community...there may even have been Skynyrd played at some point. The next night was a rowdy show for a full crowd that carried on well past the allotted time, ending with an utterly unrehearsed, countrified “Pinball Wizard”.
After 5 days spent in the cold and dark, it seemed unlikely the shows would go on. But all the same, they carried instruments and walked miles across bridges, rode bikes, huddled in cars to practice with a heater on and squeezed on top of each other into a Broadway dressing room to keep playing--and to keep their minds off how creepy it was in pitch black lower Manhattan and how precarious this whole civilization thing was after all.
And the shows did go on. The first one was the Friday post-storm. A surprising number of hearty souls braved the lack of transportation and power. The night started heavy with the weight of what friends, families and neighbors in the Rockaways and Jersey Shore were digging out from under. Just being around people felt good, and songs like “Get Down River” and “Evangeline” got added to the set and took on more meaning. They learned (ok, half learned) Electricity at sound check as a kind of ode to wishful thinking. And Lo and Behold, by the end of the set, word trickled in that power was coming back on slowly in their homes downtown...not saying they made it happen, but....
By the end, worry and uncertainty was giving way to relief and resilience and a commitment to celebrating community...there may even have been Skynyrd played at some point. The next night was a rowdy show for a full crowd that carried on well past the allotted time, ending with an utterly unrehearsed, countrified “Pinball Wizard”.