February 22, 1994

JOE HENRY
UNCLE TUPELO
location: TLA
place: Philadelphia, PA
country: USA

UNCLE TUPELO:
Jay Farrar - Guitar, Vocals
Jeff Tweedy - Bass, Rhythm Guitar, Vocals
Ken Coomer - Drums

plus:
Max Johnston - Fiddle, Lap Steel, Dobro, Mandolin, Banjo
John Stirrat - Guitar, Bass (from June, 1993 on)

setlist:

1. Grindstone
2. Satan, Your Kingdom Must Come Down
3. Chickamauga
4. Watch Me Fall
5. Fifteen Keys
6. The Long Cut
7. Anodyne
8. New Madrid
9. Slate
10. Atomic Power
11. Postcard
12. True To Life
13. High Water
14. Acuff-Rose
15. Looking For A Way Out
16. We've Been Had
17. Give Back The Key To My Heart
18. Gun
19. Gimme Three Steps (end only)
20. No Depression
21. Whiskey Bottle
22. Effigy

comment:

• Audience recording.
• Joe Henry opened
• A review from The Philadelphia Inquirer:
   

A World-Weary Uncle Tupelo Brings Gloomy Tunes to TLA

Dan DeLuca

Philadelphia Inquirer, February 24, 1994
 

With Uncle Tupelo, you can feel the world closing in.

Both bassist Jeff Tweedy and guitarist Jay Farrar sing as if they've seen too much. At the Theater of Living Arts Tuesday, their eyes were closed, and their voices didn't hold out much hope for more than temporary escape. ''Whiskey bottle over Jesus," Tweedy sang, "not forever, just for now."

The Belleville, IL., band's music, too, relates Rust Belt claustrophobia. Such songs as "No Depression," "Watch Me Fall" and "Chickamauga" found no way out - though "The Long Cut" hinted at a chance at the end of the tunnel. And when Tupelo's guitars, bass and drums hit the wall in despondent, noisy bursts, it was easy to see why the band has found an audience with the grunge crowd, despite rather unhip taste in old-fashioned song forms.

Tuesday, the addition of fiddle, mandolin and steel guitar player Max Johnston, gave the band the versatility to pull off the countrified songs on their major label debut, Anodyne (Reprise), with impressive clarity. And the taut, finely paced set was brought to a perfectly cathartic close with a version of John Fogerty's "Effigy" that erupted with suppressed fury.

Joe Henry opened, and was disappointing. As a writer, Henry is capable of capturing a fine sense of melancholy and mystery, but not since his 1990 album Shuffletown has he established instrumental settings as intriguing as his lyrics. Tuesday, his bland vocals and always predictable mid-tempo roots-rock arrangements fell together in an undistinguished morass.