This year, May Day in Seattle is as perfect as anyone could wish for - sunny and warm, with just enough of a breeze to remind you of the city's proximity to the coast. It's a balmy early summer evening, and in the intimate hall in the basement of the Phinney Ridge Community Center, golden sunset light streams through the windows. In other words, it's a perfect evening for Harry Manx.
On tour with vocalist Emily Braden, the soft-spoken guitarist has made a name for himself with a mellow, haunting original style that's informed as much by Indian ragas as by blues. It makes for a sound both familiar and otherworldly. Despite Manx's insistence that it's his first time playing Seattle, he fits right in. The set begins with "Only Then Will Your House Be Blessed," which also kicked off his 2001 release, Wise and Otherwise. Manx is given to puns; his latest album is called West Eats Meet, and the second song, "Bring That Thing," is from Dog My Cat. Here, instead of playing guitar, Manx brings out a 20-stringed mohan veena—the invention of one of his teachers, the Grammy-winning Vishwa Mohan Bhatt. Manx explains that Bhatt thought six strings sounded "a little lonely".
It's an interesting observation, because a quality of loneliness indeed pervades Manx's work. There's a kind of silence residing at the center of his music, and as the evening deepens outside the hall, he and Braden weave a potent spell. It's there in the plea of the traditional "Death Have Mercy," the plaintive "Make Way for the Living," and a rendition of "Sitting On Top of the World" that he describes as "Indian bluegrass."
The second set is livelier, though Manx's performance style is so laid-back that it's worth recollecting that "livelier" is a relative term. Not that the show lacks energy; the audience is enthusiastic, and Manx and Braden sing and play as though there's nowhere they'd rather be. "Coat of Mail" starts the set quietly, but with the announcement that "I wasn't always this mellow," Manx launches into a rendition of Hendrix's "Foxy Lady" that's none the worse for being played on acoustic guitar. He notes that "Don't Forget To Miss Me" is known to at least one person in Alberta as "Don't Forget the Whisky" and gives a resigned "The Thrill Is Gone" a special, banjo-inflected signature spin.
Akin to the Indian bluegrass from the first set, "Crazy Love" is a slow, sweet "Irish raga." Manx isn't all about East- West fusion, though; "Baby Please Don't Go" is straight out of Chicago, and so is "Can't Be Satisfied," though Manx plays it faster than it's usually heard. The result is tight, tense, even a little ominous. He encores with a reverent, hypnotic performance of "Long Black Veil," reprising his contribution to the Johnny Cash tribute Johnny's Blues. By the time he and Braden wind up, on Danny O'Keefe's "Good Time Charlie's Got the Blues," the sun has set. The audience is ready to let Manx play all night, but we're forced to be satisfied with the two sets we've heard.
This review originally appeared in Blues Revue (opens new window).
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