Tortured crooner Isaak has surprising flip side

The Dallas Morning News
12/02/98
By Thor Christensen

On record, Chris Isaak plays the romantic loser with the ever-present cloud of melancholia hanging over his head. But in concert Tuesday night at the Bronco Bowl, Mr. Gloom morphed into a wisecracking absurdist comedian. The weirder he got, the funnier he was.

One ad lib started as a simple introduction of a love song but ended as an uproarious tale involving the FBI and a possible poodle killing. During other between-song riffs, he spun stories of prison escapees, human immolation and flesh-colored Ford Probes with the sort of deadpan wit you'd expect from George Carlin - not from the heartsick crooner behind "Wicked Game" and "Somebody's Cryin'."

What made the singer's funny-guy routine so remarkable - and so enjoyable - was the contrast it lent to his straightforward retro-minded rock.

Mr. Isaak lives in a world where Roy Orbison and Elvis never died and "fire/desire" rhyme schemes don't feel cliched in the least. In fact, the whole show seemed like a blast from the past - from the suspended rectangles behind the stage (a la The T.A.M.I. Show) to his band members' shiny '60s-style suits.

But for all his backward glances, Mr. Isaak never came off like a rock revivalist. Rockers such as "Speak of the Devil" and "Baby Did a Bad Thing" were twice as menacing as anything on Marilyn Manson's latest album.

And new tunes such as "Please" and "I'm Not Sleepy" sounded just as good as old gems such as "Wicked Game" - a ballad every bit as spooky and ethereal today as it was when it came out nine years ago.

Opening act Shawn Mullins strummed and picked an acoustic guitar throughout his set, but despite his pop hooks and his roots in the coffeehouse folk scene, don't even think of dubbing him "the male Jewel."

He knows how to rock. "Lullaby" was anything but one: When the booming hip-hop rhythms and fuzz-drenched power chords kicked into high gear, Mr. Mullins and his four-piece band practically roared.

As perfect as his omnipresent radio song sounded, the set was hardly a case of one hit and 30 minutes of filler. The dark, accordion-driven "Tannin' Bed Song" smoldered like something off John Mellencamp's Scarecrow, while the country-ish "Gulf of Mexico" could have passed for latter-day Springsteen.

Yet for all his earnest blue-collar rock leanings, the Atlanta singer also shared an off-the-wall sense of humor with Mr. Isaak. Singing in a letter-perfect version of the soul-funk "cafeteria song" from television's South Park, Mr. Mullins did one mean Isaac Hayes impression.

Back to Articles