If you believe Google, Drivin N Cryin last played Philadelphia 37 years ago at an arena that’s since been demolished. On April 20, 1989, DNC opened for fellow Georgians R.E.M. at the Spectrum. It was a pivotal time for Kevn Kinney and Co., as they were leaning heavily on songs from the upcoming Mystery Road and ramping up for the brief run of mainstream success that would come with Fly Me Courageous two years later.
It makes a good story—if only it were true. “That probably was the last time we played Philadelphia, and somebody came,” says Kinney when asked to verify. “We’ve been there sporadically since, but I can’t remember anything spectacular.”
The version of Drivin N Cryin that took the stage at Philadelphia’s City Winery included ever-loyal cofounding bassist Tim Neilsen, drummer Dave V. Johnson and newest addition Jon Harris. As it stands now, Mystery Road remains the band’s masterpiece, and DNC covered a few choice moments from the LP, including the shoulda-been-ubiquitous Southern-rock anthem “Honeysuckle Blue,” the tender, perennially relevant “Walk With The People” and the singalong loser’s lament “Straight To Hell.” All three were taught-yet-fluid renditions of pre-Americana classics that stand the test of time. “Walk With The People” was especially memorable, marked by beautiful harmonizing between Kinney, Neilson and Joamets.
The 90-minute set was bracketed with heavier material from the DNC’s 40-year catalog, including opener “Crushing Flowers” and other standout tracks from its new album of the same name, plus a few late-evening barnburners from Fly Me Courageous. The hard-driving start worked well, giving the audience time to process the opening act.
Laid Back Country Picker is anything but. The (ahem) striking eastern Kentucky duo draws from a similar well of ’70s guitar rock, honky-tonk and hillbilly influences. But any similarities to the headliner end there. The two made an immediate impression onstage—LB with his massive muttonchops, Flying V and weathered cowboy hat, Honey methodically whacking away behind the drum kit with her muumuu, curlers and indifferent expression. There was even a vintage Spinal Tap moment when LB headed out through a stage door to serenade the crowd, got locked out and was rescued by a venue staffer with a set of keys.
But good old LB was none the worse for the wear—and neither were Drivin N Cryin.
—Hobart Rowland; photos by Chris Sikich
