Anybody who has been to a Tennessee Rounders show has, at least, an idea of just how powerful Rockabilly music can be. I like to think of it as Punk music with direction, lyrics, and musicianship all in one animal—the Rockabilly Band. And so it is with The Dempseys! The Dempseys consist of Brad Birkedahl on guitar, “Slick” Joe Fick on “doghouse fiddle” (stand-up bass for us laypeople), and drummer Ron Perrone. Together they are, as the pundits love to say, a force to be reckoned with.
If I’ve said it before, and I have, I’ve said it at least a hundred times, and I have; three-piece bands simply have to work harder than any others. Single acts are always forgiven their trespasses because it’s just, well, a lonely soul facing the audience. Duos are given leeway simply because they can always blame the other guy. In quartets, quintets, sextets, and all the other tets out there, musicians can simply get lost in the crowd while working on those little stages with all that electronic equipment. But, and it’s a big but (no pun intended), there’s no place to hide in a three-piece band, my friends. In the basic rock/country/blues, three-piece line-up we have guitar, bass, and drums, and there is simply no room for error.
But I digress.
The Dempseys dove right into their fast-paced, no-time-for slacker’s music. They captured my musical heart immediately as they opened with Johnny Cash’s early hit, “Cry, Cry, Cry.” The song was covered a few years ago by country singer Marty Stewart, but, and I liked Stewart’s cover, The Dempseys now own this song. Wow, they moved it along like a bullet train running from Tokyo to Toledo (is that possible?), on the fast track. It took about four bars for my ears to comprehend that I was listening to a sound that has broken free from the “just another band” label — and that’s what I’m always looking for.
It can be difficult to be remotely original when writing a review. Billions (yes, I said billions) of words have been written about bands, pro and con, astute and asinine, but billions nonetheless. It’s exceedingly hard to fathom adjectives that will stand up to the various similes and metaphors we writers so love to use to describe our objects of affection, but we keep trying because there are so many talented artists out here that deserve to be noticed. The Dempseys deserve my attention at this moment in time, and that’s why I keep searching for the words I need to describe some of their sound, movement and pure energy.
Birkedahl’s smoking, telecaster lead guitar action reminded me of early Cheap Trick’s Rick Nielson’s rollicking, flamboyant, and, yes, surrealistic mannerisms (only Birkedahl is better dressed). It’s blatantly obvious that Birkedahl has spent his time as a journeyman guitarist, and has mastered more guitar licks and tricks than most can shake a stick at (yeah, I know it’s a cliché, but it seems to work here). His stage work makes his hard, difficult work seem, seem, well, just plain fun!
Did I say fun? “Slick” Joe Fick, the man who drives the bottom rhythms for The Dempseys on his Mucho Grande Fiddle, happens to have Fun as his middle name. Well, not really, but it could happen, and it would be appropriate. This man has more energy in his little pinky than the local nuclear power plant (well, maybe I’m stretching it again, but he’s close). I stayed for the whole show, and I did not notice, not for a nano-second, any moment in time in which this man slowed down or let up—not a single moment. If perpetual motion keeps one young, all I can tell Mr. Fick is never slow down, sir—well done.
Drummer Ron Perrone is the Sphinx of the group, but don’t let his lack of virtual motion fool you for a moment. He is a solid, swift, glue gun of percussion that has the gravitational pull that holds Birkedahl and Fick down on terra firma. The interplay between drummer Perrone and bassman Fick allows a freedom for musical exploration to pervade Birkedahl’s guitar wanderlust—the solid bottom set by this percussion duo lets the guitar man jam at full throttle.
On a personal level (what am I saying, I’m always on a personal level when it comes to music), I wanted to thank the band for their cover of an old song I’d only heard Elvis and The Beatles (well, back when they were The Silver Beatles) perform — “I Forgot, To Remember, To Forget.” Thank you!
The Dempseys, catch them — if you can!
Jay Mouton
wholerest58@comcast.net