Concert: The Mammals
March 7th, 2003, Burlingame Acoustic Room, Portland OR
Reviewed by Erick Mertz

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[Scott Huckabay at the Burlingame Acoustic Room]

With its high ceilings and brick walls climbing into rafters rimmed in a balcony, downtown Portland's Burlingame Acoustic Room feels more aged than its otherwise polished interior lets on. "This looks like a bar on Bourbon Street," a member of my party says as we dash up the stairs. There is a possessed charm in walls like these - they've heard it all, from laughter on stifling summer afternoons to the rain soaked calls of boatmen up from the dock just a few short yards away.

Walking in, it was difficult to determine who amongst the crowd would be playing with the band and who would be watching. Fittingly, the Mammals chatted with audience members on their way to the stage and also, as they plugged in and tuned their instruments. By the time the music started anyone watching was imbued with the feeling they were listening to a distinctly personal music.

The Mammals play a fun brand of traditional Americana that is as energetic in its opening as it is toward encore. Songs such as "John Brown's Dream" and "Way Down The Old Plank Road" are vibrant knee slappers, infecting everyone around with the desire to whoop and holler uncontrollably. The frequent interplay between band members is loose and conversational, far from what is a prevailing tide of self-promotional banter. They introduce a song's roots and evoke their influences like old friends telling stories. Sure, Ruth Unger was wearing a Mammals T-shirt on stage, but she only showed it off reluctantly when, halfway through, someone from the crowd called her on it. A single instance of incidental self-promotion aside, the show goes on as humbly and down to earth as it began. Ruth introduces one song by admitting its roots are in an unpaid electric bill while Michael jokes about having reached a zero balance upon arriving a few nights earlier in San Diego. "That's life on the road," he says, and they play on. This isn't a band trying to sell you on the illusion of their rock and roll lifestyle; it is actually quite the opposite. This is a band melding their energies in with those of the audience. Tao's stage presence is the most serious of the three, drumming up old folk festival traditions and terminology, but no where to be found was an ounce of pretension. He stands as more an avatar of his craft than the reluctant transmitter of it.

Afterwards Tao danced a little jig with one of our party. The members of the Mammals shook hands and thanked the headlining band profusely. Then they all but blended into the audience and raptly watched the next act, accepting praise with darting eyes where offered.

© 2003 - Erick Mertz