It was a Pitchfork article from August 2020 that has led me here to the Americana folk rock group’s sell out show at Strange Brew. In that piece, Conor Oberst of Bright Eyes declared The Felice Brothers his favourite band and announced his being awestruck as to main singer and songwriter Ian Felice’s lyrical aplomb. Oberst is no slouch himself; he achieved something of an apex of elegant wordsmithery in 2005 magnum opus I’m Wide Awake It’s Morning, and was voted Rolling Stone magazine’s Songwriter of the Year in 2008. Such endorsement bodes well.
Tonight’s opener ‘Wonderful Life’ was in fact played by The Felice Brothers as the first dance at Oberst’s wedding in 2010. A sauntering folk ditty, nicely imbued with a wistful romance, Ian Felice’s robust songwriting is immediately apparent. One quickly notices his slightly gruff, slightly nasal Dylan-esque timbre, and he utilises a thumb pick to part-strum, part-pick the strings of his guitar. Meanwhile, younger brother James, splits his time between piano accordion and sitting at a keyboard.
James also occasionally takes lead on the vocals front. As he delivers ‘Abundance’, one can tell that his voice is of the same genetic stock, though arguably he offers up a more powerful, rounded delivery than his brother. As the evening proceeds, there is more and more evidence of The Felice’s knowing their way around a song; The sparse verses of ‘Jazz on the Autobahn’ offer a bed on which Ian can drape his linguistically dense musings on the nature of the apocalypse (“Like the heads of state hyperventilating in clouds of methane/Sundown on the human heart.”)
‘Crime Scene Queen’ is a moody shuffle, anchored by James’ elegant keyboard playing, before shifting into yet another hummable chorus motif. An enthusiastic – possibly drunk – punter ahead of us unabashedly advertises both his Englishness and his stark appreciation: “Jolly Good! Tremendous!”
Tonight’s show is actually the Felice’s second appearance of the day, with a late afternoon matinee added as a result of the evening show selling out some time ago. “Bristol, it sounded so nice, we played it twice”, James amicably states mid-show. James appears to be the more gregarious of the brothers but the level of interaction – not too frequent, but not rudely infrequent – provide a nice balance as the band, for the most part, rifle through their eighteen song set.
It’s Ian that states, “This song has a screaming component to it, sing it with us if you dare” in introduction to ‘Penn Station’. The song reveals the Felice’s across-the-board comfort with myriad folk stylings; it has a galloping Celtic folk influence as Ian’s guitar solo emerges from James’ percolating accordion part. Integral to a most enjoyable night of music is an astute balance of varied styles; at once slow and pensive, the group’s choruses are frequently rousing, and there are sufficient upbeat folk rock numbers to keep a crowd animated. With ‘Silverfish’, there’s even a flash of comedic interlude as Ian sings noticeably too high at the song’s beginning, before laughing, and recalibrating to the correct pitch.
Late in the evening, James raises a glass in a toast to Bristol – “We love this town, we’ve been here many times.” This is before ‘Days of the Years’, a part mournful, part celebratory showcase of Ian’s artful grasp of the large and small events of life: “Watching the crocuses bloom and fade/Easter bunny from an old parade/Exchanging pleasantries under pleasant trees/Over griefs and apéritifs.”
Just a few days from our facing the unholy prospect of a second Presidency of Donald Trump, a related heckle induces Ian to respond “Fuck the USA…well, fuck half of the USA.” Thus, ‘It’s Midnight and the Doves are in Tears’ – with its allusions to the doomsday clock and laments as to how science has fucked us – is the perfect song to follow. It’s bouyant, nay defiant, “La Da Daa Da” chorus singalong feels like the raising of a whisky at the end of the world.
It’s little wonder that someone of the calibre of Oberst is so in awe. Great songs, solid musicianship and a flair for lyricism, The Felice Brothers are a class act and, mysteriously, under the radar enough to be very much enjoyed in 330 capacity venues like this.
Scott Hammond
Photo by Caitlin Greene
