Audio By Carbonatix
Two Man Gentleman Band
Monterey Club, Fort Lauderdale
Thursday, September 15
As they waited to play, the Two Man Gentlemen Band sat on the couch at the back of the Monterey barroom.
It’s on the plush side, and has surely harbored a fair share of public
indecency. In a sea of beards, tattoos, and smoke, they stood out in their all-white and beige, suspenders and bow-ties. Both were clean-shaven, save for guitarist Andy Bean’s pale ‘stache. They were almost sans visible tattoo, save for the small old-timey telephone on the inside of Bean’s left forearm (he and his wife got matching ones).
Though the Two Man Gentleman Band has garnered a huge following in recent years, and even
opened up for Bob Dylan at least once or twice, the New York City
vaudeville duo sat casually, lacking the air a band that’s getting kinda
famous can often have.
Bean said the crowd’s gotten bigger since they last played in Fort Lauderdale.
“Wherever we go, the audience grows,” he told New Times.
When they hit the stage, their personas took over.
“Every
heart beats true ‘neath the red, white, and blue…” Bean sang. They
didn’t spend too much time on “You’re A Grand Old Flag,” though. It’s
just a mic check — they departed wholesome within the first measure of
their set.
“We need to move up front,” shouts a girl to her friend. “It’s the Two Man Gentlemen Band!”
From
behind his enormous tenor guitar, Bean askedthe crowd if they like
two-man music. As Bean and stand-up bass player Fuller Condon – a.k.a.
the Councilman – jaunted through opening tune “Going into Business,” it’s
clear the crowd did.
Part of the band’s appeal is the tight yet bouncy quality of their sound. It’s contagiously jittery – no one can stand still.
What’s
driving the guys’ tour is the recent release of their seven-inch vinyl
single, “Prescription Drugs (We’re Having a Party!)”/”Tikka Masala.”
“You’re
probably racist if you don’t like this one,” Bean said before going
into the latter, a tune that’s apparently about a hot chick at an Indian
takeout counter.
They flew through tunes like
“Drip Dryin'” and “There’s Something in my Trousers” with equal parts
playfulness and precision. (The goofy nature of their song titles might
make them seem like they fit squarely in the Dr. Dimento zone, but they
pull off whatever it is they do in a nonchalant manner that seems to
transcend the novelty box).
Bean was visibly sweating; a lock of gelled hair fell in his right eye.
“Anyone have any non-water-soluble hair product?” he asked the audience before wiping his eye on Condon’s sleeved elbow.
“Chocolate Milk,” “Prescription Drugs,” and “I Like to Party With Girls” followed.
Throughout
the set, Condon had a kazoo harnessed around his neck a la Dylan’s
harmonica. The makeshift harness was actually made from a wire hanger, he
said after the set.
They wound down their set
with “William Howard Taft,” which seems to be a signature tune of theirs. It’s old timey in an Andrew Bird’s Bowl of Fire kind of way, sure, and it pokes fun at the somewhat obscure yet
famously portly President Taft.
The encore was a
cover. It’s not a tune you’d expect, but once they busted into “Theme
from Ghostbusters,” it wasn’t really that surprising. Condon’s kazoo
goes all over the place in this one.
After the
set, the boys were back on the couch – same as before, except that much of the audience had gravitated toward this
side of the room. Photos and autographs ensued.
Critic’s Notebook
The crowd: Mostly tattooed and surprisingly glossy in places.
The venue: What’s left to be said about this place? It was nice to escape the smoke and check out the boutique here, which is open dangerously late and sells decent vintage clothes.
The bummer: Missing most of the sets of Los Bastardos Magnificos and the Wholetones, also on the bill and also dynamite, due to prior engagements.
