Mishka Shubaly at The Turf Club By: David de Young
 | Mishka Shubaly at the Turf Club - Photo by David de Young
| In a life story for which Mishka Shubaly’s songs might provide a suitable soundtrack, rock bottom is at least three flights up. These are songs to listen to in the backseat of a taxicab after throwing up in the lap of someone you love, songs to take with you when going out for a drink means you’ll be gone six months, songs in which optimism means that if you’re lucky and work hard enough, maybe someday (just maybe) you might finally snatch failure from the jaws of defeat. After a moment or two of mournful slide guitar, Shubaly’s new album, How To Make A Bad Situation Worse (Terrasoul Records, 2007) opens with the line, “Pass me the lampshade, I’m drunk again,” setting the tone for a journey that’s beautifully downhill from there. The pathos, however, is balanced by humor, and the songs contain some of the cleverest and most “you’ll want to quote them to your friends” lyrics I’ve heard from a songwriter this year. (A few exhibits: “If I’m a bad drunk, it’s not for lack of practice,” “Despair’s an octopus with its head in New Hampshire, and tentacles everywhere,” and “The potato peelings in the sink did not turn into vodka as I had hoped.” Shubaly made a tour stop at The Turf Club in St. Paul Saturday on a bill that included local bands Cortez the Killer and country punksters, Pretty Boy Thorson. Playing solo with just a Fender Telecaster in tow, his seven or so song set included only one song from his new album, but on first hearing I easily absorbed songs like “Island of Misfit Boys” from 2003’s Thanks For Letting Me Crash.  | Mishka Shubaly
| I was pretty much the only human in the center section of the Turf Club in front of the stage (50 or so others were perched at the bar or at the tables on the other side of the divider), so the show had a bit of a coffeehouse quality for me, the kind of show where a singer-songwriter performs to people who may or may not be interested and who probably came to see someone else--if they came to see music at all. The in-between-song applause, however, indicated people were paying attention even if they hadn’t made their way down in front of the stage. The outrageousness of the pathos in Shubaly’s songs has a way of elevating them above any background noise they might become part of pretty quickly; despite that pervasive pathos, these songs were clearly meant to entertain, not to wallow in. Shubaly’s in between song banter was no less outrageous. It was hard to tell at times whether his stories were serious or not. I found myself hoping not, but realized I was probably wrong, which was the scary part. (Like any good serious joke, it’s the underlying truth – even if stretched a bit – that makes it work.) He closed the set with a rendition of the tragic waltz, “Home,” with his Telecaster ringing prettily in the high registers. I might have hoped for a longer set, but I was satisfied with what I got, and it was definitely worth the journey specifically to see him. Shubaly’s tour now takes him West where he’ll end up at the Skylark Club in Seattle on September 22nd. If you do nothing else after reading this review, listen to “The Only One Drinking Tonight” on Shubaly’s MySpace at the very least, and go see him if he comes to a watering hole near you if you can. Related links: |
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