Souled American has always been a bit ahead of the curve.
Ten years ago, when Chicago’s rock scene was dominated by the sound of piercing feedback and punk aggression, Souled American appeared playing a slow, hushed brand of country rock that seemed conceived in another world. It caught the ear of fans and critics here and elsewhere, but when the band’s record label folded after releasing three albums, Souled American retreated into semi-obscurity.
Today, Chicago is a major hub of alternative country music, and one would think that local musical taste had finally caught up with Souled American. But during the first night of a two-night stand at the Empty Bottle on Wednesday, the local quartet proved as unorthodox and elusive as ever.
Led by singer/songwriters Joe Adducci and Chris Grigoroff and aided by a guest drummer and a trumpet-playing second guitarist, the band opened its first set with a funereal, rustic ballad over which Grigoroff drawled lyric fragments like: “This old river/It’s not the same old river/It’s changed.”
Colored in muted trumpet and the fluid wash of Adducci’s fretless bass, the song resembled an uncanny fusion of cool jazz and hillbilly folk, a kind of Chet Baker meets the Carter Family. As such, it set the tone for the rest of the evening.
Whether covering C&W icons like Willie Nelson, the Louvin Brothers and Merle Travis or ranging through its old material, Souled American delivered most of its music with the nearly static drip of chilled molasses. But instead of being dull, the slow pace created a pin-drop ambiance in which each vocal inflection, each bent guitar note and each cymbal tap was a major musical statement rather than an insignificant detail.
And while the set’s pace was deliberate, the tempos weren’t the result of indifference or laziness. In fact, the quartet was remarkably tight and well rehearsed. Its slo-mo style simply tended to make the phrasing more crisp and spare accompaniment more effective.
There’s an artiness to Souled American’s brand of country that may be difficult for some music fans to digest. But country music has always been about the little things: a tremulous vocal inflection, a devastating three-note pedal steel phrase. Souled American simply throws those little things into high relief.
