| Over the Rhine | Everybody Has A Story... | Press Archive index
. . . The Phantom Tollbooth by Jessica Aguilar Walker WHAT FAIRPOINT, OHIO HAS DONE WITH LINFORD DETWEILER Linford Detweiler As an individual, Linford Detweiler's music draws from many sources within the collective midwestern psyche. There is evidence of western steakhouse jukebox honky-tonk, cocktail jazz and ballet recitals in his solo piano works. Yet, for the most part, his playing is not unlike those endless paternalistic hymns one may have squirmed their way through locked in a church pew as a child. His musical genius takes all that one was emotionally allergic to as an adolescent (musically speaking) and endears it to a nostalgia of ones own thoughts and experiences. What would explain this phenomenon of nostalgia? Linford has done this for himself. "Nervous as all get out," the willowy performer took all of two hours to explain (with poetry, prose and a tinny oak veneer upright piano) his life story. This was a rare occurrence - the first - for a man who keeps so well to himself. The 14 song evening began with "Run Dark Olive," a contemporary piece from his solo piano album "I Don't Think There's No Need to Bring Nothin' (Music for First Kind Sight)." In an atmosphere that could lead one to believe they were spying on him in his living room, Detweiler took the less than hundred person audience through "Is It too Late to Start" and "First Kind Sight" into a loose yet hopeful spoken ballad of self-discovery. Perhaps the rarest moment was the first known live performance of "Let the Lower Lights Be Burning," a hymn layered with purpose-filled prose about the childhood desire (and coercion) to become a missionary, only witnessed before on the Over the Rhine's video exposé "Serpents and Gloves." After the plush and rolling "I Should Have Kept Going," there began a deeper connection with the audience- more words. Detweiler admitted to writing regularly, and as of late has been identifying with the letters of Vincent Van Gogh. He hued Van Gogh's textured colors with words in his "Vincent poem #1" where he found the will to live in nature and, inspired by indulgent night walks with the dog in a cemetery, a poem entitled "One More Canvas While We Were Still." He then went on to play "Weak in the Knees Across the Sky," another from "I Don't Think..." The humorous, bare boned, sin sultry backup singers' "Jack's Valentine" (from Over the Rhine's "Good Dog, Bad Dog," 1996) was next spliced with tomfoolery commentary about the painters (Van Gogh, Monet, Degas) the song mentions towards the end. There are subtle hints of a church background in a great deal of Detweiler's work as he is one of six siblings from a Fairpoint, Ohio minister's family. Personably, Detweiler lead into more writing with a storytelling of adolescent memories, including a recollection about a one-piece sequined bathing suit wearing, baton twirling, high school girlfriend he brought home only to take her for a tick-infested motorbike ride in the Minnesota wilderness. He then read of his first memory - to be close to the sound of a trumpet - as well as playing the piano to avoid evening dishes, and (again) how it was engraved into his psyche from a young age that his sole purpose in life was to become a missionary. At the time when the volatile King David was his inspiration, he only went fishing with his brothers because he loved them and enjoyed the colorful names for the fish. Through his essay and prose, it became evident that Detweiler has come to the place, maybe long before the rest of us, where he is truly grateful for all that has brought him to this moment in life. His final solo work of the evening closed with the most passionate of all ⤓ another spoken word bluesy piano piece where he detailed the fascination of a "life-long fling" he intends to have with wife Karin Bergquist. The intensity of feeling not expressed in words he channeled through the intimate dynamics of his fingers on the keys. With a nod and a smile, an encore called him to bring his wife onto stage for a rendition of Over the Rhine's "Latter Days" where throughout Karin glanced admiringly at him. Out from the shadow of Over the Rhine, Linford Detweiler took one steamy September night at Detroit's quaint Trinity House Theatre to give us a glimpse into the musical outgrowth of his individuality. Covering every corner of an existence infused with music and mystery, Detweiler communicated hope, faith and an intent to suck the marrow from life. In all, the stunning simplicity of a beatnik ballerina on a broken-hearted upright piano was pleasant and historical- if not just for the tiny audience, for Detweiler himself. |