Local Roche Outdoes Headliner Stephen Kellogg

Kellogg, Corny Flake? For all his down-home charm, Stephen Kellogg broke no new ground Saturday at the Cat. (photo courtesy stephenkellog.com)

Lucy Roche made us promise not to reveal what happened in the initial moments of her set Saturday night, but I will say that her composure, humor, and stage presence stood her in good stead. The consummate performer, whatever she may profess, Roche's grace under fire kept the audience firmly in her corner. (As one audience member remarked, "Her guitar could blow up and she'd just keep right on going.")

Roche opened for folk singer Stephen Kellogg, and it was yet another in the long string of occasions on which the Oberlin act demolished the national one.

Roche has a lovely clear voice, especially in the middle registers, where it becomes almost bell-like. She is so adept at picking pieces which play to her vocal strengths that sometimes they can become repetitious, but they varied just enough to offset boredom.

Her song selection showcased introspective and funny pieces by Richard Thompson, Lori McKenna, Loudon Wainwright and Maggie Roche. Yet she doesn't have enough faith in her own compositions, which opened and closed the show. She has a strong compositional sense, good phrasing and is a solid and ever-improving guitarist.

The sentimental crowd favorite, "Owen," was a highlight, and it was a shame that Roche didn't play more of her own work, because in these moments she became fully herself onstage and engaged the audience in the expression of that self, rather than the interpretation of others'. If Roche were to pick up her guitar(s) on the Cat stage more often, she would surely become one of the most illuminating stars in the already crowded Oberlin sky.

Let me begin by saying that if personality is what counts, Kellogg's got it. He's the sort of whom your grandmother might say, "Such a nice young man." Nevertheless, the nice young man, who came all the way from, Northampton Mass., where they breed folkies like rabbits, seemed concerned to tell us he had a "Southern fried steak" for breakfast. I knew what he meant, terminology aside, but that didn't establish the kind of credentials he wanted.

There was nothing radically wrong with Kellogg's performance, but from the moment he played his first note, the chemistry in the room disappeared. He was too slick, too radio, without the pop simplicity of radio songs or the sincerity of folk ones. His guitar playing was flawless, a little too much so, smooth and frictionless, and his voice sounded like Rob Thomas: tuneful but with little personality or depth.

He confirmed a suspicion of mine that people who look and dress like models are rarely good songwriters, as lines promised and then reneged on meaning or freshness. Kellogg's lyrics could be both trite and pretentious, and sometimes just embarrassing, as in "And she said Stephen Kellogg/My my my." If a line starts "Dead dogs on the highway/All the way to New Orleans," you know the next line is going to end with "nothing's as it seems" and it did.

The songs were pushed along by Kellogg's wink wink nudge nudge delivery, which turned into a face-screwed-up 'I'm really trying to' wail at quasi-emotional moments. It was when he covered a Hank Williams song one gave up hope for the kind of performer/audience connection that can occur at good shows. He put on a faux accent and then proceeded to provide exactly the same sense of real feeling that his own songs had: none.

This is not to say that Kellogg's music is a complete bust. It would make excellent background music to a small party. You won't have to listen to the words, just the sound of them, which goes along nicely with the pretty guitar progressions, carefully produced so there's no sound of fingers on strings, which will fill the air just like AM radio. Oberlin has always been great at growing its own musicians; it just has to find some outside the bubble who can hold up the standard.