Brown Sneakers

Brown Sneakers
Much can change in a year.

When Brown Sneakers played the Museum of the Southwest Sunday evening concerts in 2010 they were looking with trepidation at the sky – fearing a downpour would end their gig. But in 2011, as their lead singer and guitarist suggested, they suggested a prayer – “please God, give us a sprinkle.” But the few clouds above us are as bereft of precipitation as the duck pond soon will be of water if its rapidly decreasing size I saw driving to the concert is anything to go by.

But if the drought is indeed a slow-moving disaster, the music of Brown Sneakers – which exudes a quiet, warm professionalism – was just what we needed to, as Billy Joel suggested, forget about life for a while. One of the most impressive aspects of this band is that an audience can hear every word being sung by Adrian Gonzales, their lead singer. He has a clear, well-enunciated voice that both relaxes the audience and draws them in.

In songs such as “Water Colors” and “Undercover Lover” the music has a quiet groove somewhat reminiscent of the 1980’s band Level 42, while Gonzales occasionally echoes a Simply Red type of clarity.

Brown Sneakers are best in their original songs and in some of the extended improvisational jams that show their confidence as they often become so spare that you can barely hear the bass and guitars quietly conversing, while the drums provide an ironic commentary. In these spare moments Brown Sneakers are following the Keith Richards credo of music being performed on “a canvas, it’s called silence.” They are making what he describes as “a little dab here”, while allowing the audience to fill in the rest.

Some of their cover songs seem rather badly chosen – Stevie Ray Vaughan’s “Mary Had a Little Lamb” lacked the mischievous hinting of the original, and paradoxically Gonzales has almost too good a voice for this type of story-song. We want to hear the odd off-key, flat note in numbers like this.

But these weaker moments are few – Brown Sneakers are highly entertaining in numbers like “Big Legged Woman”, although the fact that we could hear every word of songs like these stretched the family-friendly moniker of this concert series almost to the breaking point. No criticism of Brown Sneakers here, they can just communicate the suggestiveness of old blues songs in a rather unusual manner.

Gonzales is not only a fine lead singer, but he does some classy work on the guitar too. Unfortunately the normally superb balance of this band fell down here – his lead guitar was far too quiet in solos. It was difficult to distinguish it from the rhythm guitar and the bass would often drown it. Gonzales should turn the volume way up for his solos – they obviously possess the quality to deserve it.

So the evening ended with darkness encroaching – the last summer concerts always seem to end in near nighttime, reminding us that Fall will soon be here. Those few clouds had gone – the Gonzales rain prayer had been for naught. But there is always next year.

We can only look at the sky and hope. - Midland Reporter Telegram- Graham Dixon

Brown Sneakers
Much can change in a year.

When Brown Sneakers played the Museum of the Southwest Sunday evening concerts in 2010 they were looking with trepidation at the sky – fearing a downpour would end their gig. But in 2011, as their lead singer and guitarist suggested, they suggested a prayer – “please God, give us a sprinkle.” But the few clouds above us are as bereft of precipitation as the duck pond soon will be of water if its rapidly decreasing size I saw driving to the concert is anything to go by.

But if the drought is indeed a slow-moving disaster, the music of Brown Sneakers – which exudes a quiet, warm professionalism – was just what we needed to, as Billy Joel suggested, forget about life for a while. One of the most impressive aspects of this band is that an audience can hear every word being sung by Adrian Gonzales, their lead singer. He has a clear, well-enunciated voice that both relaxes the audience and draws them in.

In songs such as “Water Colors” and “Undercover Lover” the music has a quiet groove somewhat reminiscent of the 1980’s band Level 42, while Gonzales occasionally echoes a Simply Red type of clarity.

Brown Sneakers are best in their original songs and in some of the extended improvisational jams that show their confidence as they often become so spare that you can barely hear the bass and guitars quietly conversing, while the drums provide an ironic commentary. In these spare moments Brown Sneakers are following the Keith Richards credo of music being performed on “a canvas, it’s called silence.” They are making what he describes as “a little dab here”, while allowing the audience to fill in the rest.

Some of their cover songs seem rather badly chosen – Stevie Ray Vaughan’s “Mary Had a Little Lamb” lacked the mischievous hinting of the original, and paradoxically Gonzales has almost too good a voice for this type of story-song. We want to hear the odd off-key, flat note in numbers like this.

But these weaker moments are few – Brown Sneakers are highly entertaining in numbers like “Big Legged Woman”, although the fact that we could hear every word of songs like these stretched the family-friendly moniker of this concert series almost to the breaking point. No criticism of Brown Sneakers here, they can just communicate the suggestiveness of old blues songs in a rather unusual manner.

Gonzales is not only a fine lead singer, but he does some classy work on the guitar too. Unfortunately the normally superb balance of this band fell down here – his lead guitar was far too quiet in solos. It was difficult to distinguish it from the rhythm guitar and the bass would often drown it. Gonzales should turn the volume way up for his solos – they obviously possess the quality to deserve it.

So the evening ended with darkness encroaching – the last summer concerts always seem to end in near nighttime, reminding us that Fall will soon be here. Those few clouds had gone – the Gonzales rain prayer had been for naught. But there is always next year.

We can only look at the sky and hope. - Midland Reporter Telegram- Graham Dixon