One (or Two) Is the Loneliest Number

Solo strummers take flight at Midway Cafe on Friday, 19 May 2023.

With no bands in tow, guitarists from The Peasants, Modern Day Idols, and The Rockmores offered stripped-down versions of their sound.

It’s giving MTV (that’s Music Television, kids) way too much credit to suggest that the cable channel invented the “stripped down” pop music aesthetic with their MTV Unplugged series in the late 80s and through the 90s.

The TV series showcased artists with big names and big sounds make everything just a tiny bit smaller with a more intimate venue and (sometimes, not always) acoustic version of their most popular songs.

News flash! Artists have been trading between big (electric) and small (acoustic) sounds in the studio and live performances since forever. Go to a Joni Mitchell concert, or whoever, and you’ll hit some point in the live set where she wrangles a solo acoustic guitar in the spotlight while the rest of the band grabs a smoke.

Sure, some folkheads used to lose their shit over Bob Dylan going electric at the 1964 Newport Folk Festival. But who can remember what people were upset about?

By the time Big Metal arrived, mainstream bands that cut their teeth on heavy electric rock would routinely go acoustic. Hair metalheads Tesla scored their biggest hit on the wooden wide-bellies, “Signs” (1990). Guns N Roses did it better and earlier with “Patience” (1988), trading between acoustic and electric in the very same song.

So what did MTV add to the game when it debuted the Unplugged series in late 1989? Not much in terms of art. But plenty in terms of money, exposure, branding. The series transformed the “acoustic version” into a major cultural force that still has legs.

When you go to a concert in 2023 and only one guy with a six-string takes the stage instead of the full band, are you pissed? Likely not. Likely the set was advertised as such and you bought your ticket in the full light of this knowledge. You wanted to see a solo set by the guitarist from Class President or No Nations.

At least a part of the reason that you can draw people to a “stripped-down” set is because somewhere deep down in your fandom psyche the marketing team at MTV is still riding shotgun.

The “acoustic version” is a thing. MTV made it a thing. It will remain a thing until everyone that grew up with MTV is dead and gone. At which point it will transition to primarily a zombified, undead existence, a “thing” in the eternal moonshine of all tomorrow’s streaming platforms. Enjoy!

Chris Wagner

Chris Wagner took a solo turn apart from his usual gig with Modern Day Idols. The ax in hand was an electric-acoustic that would look right at home at the foot of Elvis Presley’s grave, festooned with roses, bologna sandwiches, and empty bottles of hooch.

Forget the King of Rock n Roll, though. The man of the night was birthday boy Pete Townshend, guitarist for The Who, who turned 78 on Friday. Wagner shouted out a ‘happy birthday.’

What debt does Chris Wagner and the other acts of the night owe a rock legend like Townshend? The precise inheritance is not so clear, but at some point a musician achieves such stature that cultural hegemony manifests like a pervasive fog rather than direct lines of influence. The Who doesn’t need to be your favorite band and you don’t even need to own a single record of theirs. If you are a rock n roll guitarist who came of age in the second half of the 20th century, there is something about the bright, brash style of Townshend that’s found its way into your sound.

Wagner’s sound was bright, but not so brash. His balladry cooked up altrock plaints, taking advantage of what plays soft and what plays hard with his six-string hybrid vehicle.

Pete Cassani

Forget MTV Unplugged. Pete Cassani’s set was more like a punk rock A Prairie Home Companion.

The guitarist from The Peasants had solo acoustic material for miles, trading between earnest rockers and wry comic sing-alongs.

Highlight of the set, and maybe the night, was a gag strummer lampooning all of Boston’s frailties and foibles. A real local’s local, this one.

In fairly short order, Cassani walked the crowd through a galaxy of rock sounds: a little Joe Strummer, a little John Cougar Melloncamp, a little take-your-pick Hozac Records proto-punk reissue band, a little Lou Reed’s “New York Telephone Conversation,” a little Big Star, and a little happy birthday to Pete Townshend.

Impressive ground covered in an unassuming set.

Michael Boezi

One is the loneliest number. Too lonely. So Michael Boezi brought his drummer.

The Unplugged-conceit was fully thrown out the window for the closing set.

With a no-apologies electric ax under his wing, the Rockmores guitarist took flight on the back of a setlist of originals. The drummer had a nice minimalist approach, making good use of the drum rims.

Boezi’s originals had a bit of an Irish folk flair, but fed back through the growling meatgrinder of the electric guitar for that special timbre that Pete Townshend would know and love.