Photo by Ryan Durocher via lakestreetdive/Facebook
Lake Street Dive at Ruth Eckerd Hall in Clearwater, Florida on Nov. 1, 2023.
That’s what 1,517 of us were treated to on Wednesday at Ruth Eckerd Hall in Clearwater, when Lake Street Dive issued 90 minutes of catchy blue-eyed soul, pop and light rock. Even when the songs were sad or angry, they retained an element of playful uplift.
I first came under the spell of Lake Street Dive a dozen years ago, when I encountered a YouTube clip of them performing a ballad version of the Jackson 5’s “I Want You Back” on a sunny Boston sidewalk. Gobsmacked by the powerhouse lead singing of Rachael Price, and the band’s lustrous background vocals, I became an immediate fan. Still am.
The group kicked off by harkening back to their street-corner roots, five of them standing shoulder-to-shoulder on a riser near the back of the stage. They opened with “Feels Like the Last Time,” a medium-tempo, doo-wop-ish number with bursts of bright vocal harmonies punctuating Price’s smokey lead. They stayed in that location for five tunes, with Mike Calabrese playing a snare drum, Bridget Kearney an acoustic bass, James Cornelison an acoustic guitar, and Akie Bermiss earning scattered cheers for his short, funky solos on Fender Rhodes. Everyone chipped in background vocals. The segment ended with “Hypotheticals”—its cute, curlicue melody getting the first audible rise from the audience.
Taking their places on the wider stage, band members began with a silken rendition of the Pointer Sisters’ “Automatic,” one of the many cover tunes in their quill. Kearney’s grinding rocker “Love Doctor”—about as nasty as Lake Street Dive gets—provided a welcome contrast to the overall pop mood.
Price, dressed in sleek black pants and sleeveless top, conveyed a wholesome stage presence. She dances with a breezy grace—but always controlled, never wild.
After a bit, the quintet returned to their intimate perch for a series of requests, which they pulled out of a container and read to the crowd. The highlight here was Hall & Oates’ “Rich Girl.” The audience, made up largely of baby boomers, happily sang the familiar first lines.
Returning to the larger stage, the quintet cranked up the energy, playing several of its more familiar songs (they have no Top 40 hits), among them “You Go Down Smooth,” “Call Off Your Dogs,” and culminating with the rousing rocker “Good Kisser,” with Price letting loose snarls, grows and shouts. It’s a defiant song from a jilted lover, but the result was more celebratory than bitter.
Just prior, Price sang a wistful ballad—I don’t know the title—backed only by Bermiss on piano. Permit me a suggestion: A couple more tunes like this would add balance to the set.
For the encore, Lake Street Dive brought out opening act Monica Martin, who joined Price in a beguiling duet of Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” Their voices melded beautifully, and made me think “Everly Sisters.” The quintet then featured Bermiss, an impressive lead singer in his own right, on his bouncy “Shower Song,” a funny tune about the joys (“shampoo and champagne”), and the convenience (“it’s right next to the sink”), of showering with your partner as a way to pass the time.
The show closed with “Bad Self Portraits,” the protagonist stuck in a rut, “taking bad self portraits, of a lonely woman.” Despite the defeatist lyrics, the song couldn’t help but have a ring of optimism.
How else was a feel-good concert to end? A few words about the opener...
After more than four decades of reviewing shows, I’ve gotten into the habit of skipping the opening act. Not this time. Earlier in the day, I had checked out Monica Martin’s handful of intimate singles on Spotify and marked her as someone not to miss. We were in our seats well before she hit at 7:30 p.m.
How to sum up her 35-minute set? She killed. Backed by electric guitarist/backup singer Taylor Ashton—who happens to be Price’s husband—Martin showcased her dusky vocals, laced by a lilting falsetto, in a series of mostly ballads. In between, she delivered banter that was revealing, self-deprecating and genuinely funny. While she meandered some, it made her more knowable, and likable.
Martin’s shined in a heart-melting version of The Beatles’ “In My Life.” She closed with her original, “Go Easy, Kid,” a masterful jazz-folk number about living life as it comes. “Cause after all, no one’s in control / Go easy kid, it’s only rock and roll.” She delivered those key lines with such clarity and conviction that the crowd sent her off with a rousing ovation.
Martin does not have an album out yet, but she’s an artist to watch.
And a quick observation about a buffoon in the audience: A big young fella proudly wore his vanilla-colored cowboy hat throughout the show. You could tell he was one of those dudes who keeps his lid on his noggin everywhere—at a job interview, at a funeral, and rues having to take it off at bedtime. But c’mon man! At a concert? Show some consideration for the folks behind you.
As it turns out, the seats directly behind our wannabe cowboy were empty—but that’s besides the point.
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