Eef Barzelay

Largo - April 11, 2006

Live Review by Mark McConville

Largo is one of the strangest and best venues in L.A. It's a kind of nirvana for small concert lovers. Some great acts swear by it: Aimee Mann, Rhett Miller and Grant Lee Buffalo, to name a few. Jon Brion plays an amazing one-man musical smorgasbord every Friday night. I digress. Intimate room, tables and chairs (choke down the B-grade food and you'll get yourself a good seat), excellent sound, and an extreme no-talking policy. In fact, the maitre d' asks you to kill your ringtones at the door. It's cooler-than-thou to the extreme, and yet the room is somehow inviting to both fans and musicians. Almost too inviting. The silence between songs can be disconcerting to everyone. The urge to yell "Freebird" is palpable.

Eef Barzelay of Clem Snide graced the stage Tuesday night, sans Snide. Dressed in a plain dark suit and armed with a Martin acoustic guitar with a 1979 Van Halen duct tape job and a tiny 15 watt Orange amplifier, Eef (like Beef without the B...His words, not mine) deftly moved through five Clem Snide albums, some rarities, a few brand new songs and many of his tunes from his most recent solo foray, Bitter Honey. He's a tall and gangly left-hander, making for a bizarre stage picture. Everything was a bit hazy - and by choice. Guitar tones were slightly distorted, songs were rearranged, lyrics were shouted instead of sung. Largo's atmosphere and Barzelay's country-punk sensibilities combined for a challenging and rewarding show.

Barzelay is America's best kept songwriting secret. His songs are bittersweet, sarcastic and beautiful. He writes the kind of sad songs that can knock the wind out of you. But he's also the kind of guy who will playfully address the very respectful audience as "bitches." Charming from beginning to end, Eef Barzelay left Largo wanting more.