Here is a partial list of cities Califone played on their last US tour: Missoula, Madison, Milwaukee—iron-and-steel cities that hold as much mythology for Angelenos as Los Angeles might for them (by the way, L.A. wasn't included in the first leg of this tour).
It's difficult to be a Califone fan living in Los Angeles. Califone, as a band, are more khaki work trousers than tight black jeans, the electronics that structure their songs aimed more towards distortion than dancing. For the better part of 12 years, they've removed themselves from trends. To paraphrase fellow music critic Andrew Gaerig, Califone has always been one movie soundtrack song away from coffeeshop stardom.
Well, maybe they grew tired of waiting for a call from Hollywood: lead singer Tim Rutili secured financing to direct and write his own movie, with a soundtrack played entirely by the band. They screened the film, All My Friends Are Funeral Singers at the Hammer's Billy Wilder Theatre on Wednesday, Dec 9th. I was told to arrive early. The museum was expecting a crowd. I knew better.
The film concerns Zel, a young Midwestern woman living in a farmhouse with a dozen ghosts bequeathed to her by her grandmother, a psychic. The ghosts are sometimes funny and sometimes frightening in this rickety film. I'm can’t say for certain, but it’s possible the subject matter had something to do with two members of the audience vomiting mid-film.
The kindest words I have for the whole production are reserved for its soundtrack, which was played live on stage by Califone. Like I said, It's difficult to be a Califone fan. But it's worth it: Ten minutes after the credits rolled, the band walked back on stage for a quick set from their most recent (and least-remarkable) album. Three songs played towards the end—“The Orchids", "Michigan Girls", and "Fisherman's Wife"—grabbed me. During these songs, I didn't care that I was with only 200 other fans far from the Midwest. I didn't care about the time I'd wasted watching All My Friends. Tim Rutili's cold-weather rasp was warm enough to crawl inside; the band's sound open and vulnerable enough to remind me of home. With these songs, Califone conjured rust belt agony so real I had to shut my eyes to keep from crying.
Maybe Tim Rutili learned one lesson from his dance with Hollywood – whatever you do, go out with a bang.
Originally in Los Angeles Magazine at: http://www.lamag.com/do/blog_post.aspx?id=22789
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