Maybe it was the way Chicago can lure just about anyone back with its upbeat Midwestern charm, but it took Greg Laswell only four months to re-visit the darkened cave of Martyrs Restaurant and Pub. So this guy is critically described as the sweet genre’s “darling,” and with songs that have found solace in shows such as “Grey’s Anatomy” and the “Hills,” I expected an audience of well-dressed 18 to 34-year-olds with crushes. He gets such fanfare so easily because music is literally his industry. Producing, recording and performing aren’t anything that’s new to him, so I can only imagine how chuck-full his contact list is. Laswell knows the sincerity in networking.
I could only ask myself two things before getting my hand stamped and letting my eyes adjust to the near-blind visibility inside:
1. Will Greg’s tender guitar serenade re-associate my thoughts of him as just a romantic soundtrack staple?
2. Will there be any dudes inside the room, not holding onto their girlfriend’s bags?
The shows opener, a quirky girl named Elizabeth and her two partners dubbed “& The Catapult”, presented the crowd with a more interesting Sara Bareilles (someone the Laswell fans would be familiar with) and with an instrumental backdrop of fun, like a pinch of The Bird and The Bee. If The Bird and The Bee has the caffeine equivalence of a Grande, Elizabeth and the Catapult would equal a Venti.
It was on Elizabeth & TC’s stage that I was introduced to Laswell. He didn’t say much of anything before plopping down at the piano for a heart-melting duet, but from what I’ve read and heard, he doesn’t really seem to be the party starter.
Let’s say you, the reader, are familiar with any of Laswell’s records. In that case, this live performance only would have provided you with a better experience of a background band, the opportunity for singing along with/in front of a crowd (to separate the real fans from the I-only-know-the-single fans), and a close proximity. If you, the reader, are not familiar with handsome man’s handiwork, then envision a musical version of an old coffee mug filled with black joe, put in a vintage teaspoon dose of pure sugar and sip, and sit on a creaky rocking chair in the Adirondacks to watch summer slip by as you dream of The One that got away. Or a more prepared Bon Iver.
The band that backed Laswell when the meat of the show really took off, composed of a lead guy, a drummer boy, and a bassist. Out of four people on stage, three were wearing fedoras. Just go ahead and picture that, along with a scene from any enchanted indie flick where cute boy plays soulful confession to waitress girl right before they get it on. Ahhh the joy of social paramour drama.
By the end of the first song, “The One I Love,” it was clear that his deeper voice was winning me over. There were probably more guys in this room than girls and that he might be the only one to really pull off using “thee” in a verse.
Then I’ll send it out and let things be
if not for you
for me and the time I’ve spent
foolishly loving thee
Laswell is an amazing lyricist, which makes up for not being so lively on stage. There weren’t too many moments, I recall, of playful space-filling in-between songs: no jokes, no flirting with the girls who hid behind their fancy Canon and Olympus DSLRs, no explanations of titles or choruses. 
Except for the fight. Other than explaining how second song “Sing, Theresa Says” was an adorable ode to his grandmother, Laswell did at one point acknowledge a fan. Said fan was yelling to the stage, urging for the singer to do a duet with said fan’s girlfriend. This led to a half-embarrassed Laswell to say no, no, he couldn’t allow that, and then fan and girl start fighting. Good-mannered Greg then used his charm to intervene and say, using much more tender verbiage than mine, to knock it off and grow the hell up and stop messing up his set.
The fedora-ed band plus the bassist got into the music personally, like when the more upbeat “That It Moves” showed up. There was a lot of looking at each other and bouncing to the sound of each beat they all made, and despite a smoother set, they band got sweaty.
Some songs were solo, a sprinkle of the songs were played in conjunction with a very normal looking “Greg’s friend from LA” (who must not have gotten the fedora memo), and the majority of the set never swayed to sleepy thanks to such an up-tempered band backing.
Laswell’s laid back-with-a-smile demeanor wasn’t a shocker, but his Lauper cover, “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” all but had me laughing out loud. It’s literally a 5 mph version that you could put on to usher guests out of a closing club, and it’s good.
It was somewhere in the middle of the set that my neck snapped my head up in confused recognition. A soft, bouncing piano that carried two teasing notes down the scale. I knew that song…at least until the chorus, which is where he lost me. It was “Off I Go,” the season-ending “Grey’s” anthem. I’m not a “Grey’s” fan, but I could absolutely add Three Flights From Alto Nido to my LP collection, or any of his EPs—his sound would totally work for my Sunday night dinner parties.
Set List:
The One I Love
Sing, Theresa Says
That It Moves
What a Day
Girls Just Wanna Have Fun
Days Go On
Amazed
Off I Go
Comes and Goes
Do What I Can
Salvation Dear
High and Low
Embrace Me
I’m Not Out
How the Day Sounds
Greg Laswell: website | myspace
