The Henry Clay People @ Jackpot Saloon and Music Hall (Lawrence, KS) 02-25-09

The Henry Clay People @ Jackpot Saloon and Music Hall (Lawrence, KS) 02-25-09

If it weren't for the hills then downtown Pasadena could pass for Massachusetts Street, the main drag in Lawrence, KS. It's a college down, not so much charming as it is simply cool. Aside from typical college town mainstays (I ate at a Jimmy Johns with Joey Siara) there are plenty of intriguing local establishments. A glowing green stairwell, hardly maintained and oozing mysterious sounds, invited passer-byes into a club whose signage simply read "Jazz". Strange garments were displayed in windows, fliers of numerous local events were fastened to doors. There's stuff to do here. Lawrence boldly defies the Kansas stereotype.

Car parked, I bounded down the street, seeking frosted addresses on glass storefronts Squinting, I looked-up at a sign "Jackpot Saloon and Music Hall".



"Welcome to hell, man." That was Joey Siara, the lead singer of The Henry Clay People, hovering in the doorway. His droopy, curly hair and sleepy bespectacled eyes offered me a properly slack high-five. Standing with him was Mike Hopkins, The HCP drummer, with his ever-present cigarette. They looked a little beaten-down.

"Here, I'll take you inside."

The Jackpot is a clean establishment that gets dirtier and less finished the closer you get to the stage and the bathrooms. It offers a bottled beer list that would satisfy a snob, though Kansas-brewed Boulevard Wheat and Pale ales are on-tap, and those flavorful beers are the only option for someone with their tongue screwed-in right. They had a "multi-cade," an illegal modified (or homemade) arcade cabinet with 30 or so classic arcade games.

The patronage was pleasant. Nice folks. Every young guy wore a beard and the hipster girls were cute enough. The joint's manager, a short Brian Blessed-resembling man, was friendly.

No Galaga challenge. I was too scared.

Andy Siara checks his email.

Joey took me down to the "green room," of The Jackpot, a hole in the basement that could be mistaken for a cave in the mountains of Pakistan if it weren't for the walls of graffiti, a living testament to those who have been there before. I counted at least seven different hairy penises drawn on the walls.

Dane Sundseth, the band's long-haired manager, and Andy Siara, Joey's cocky younger brother, were crouched on a couch watching a YouTube video of a six year old kid freshly high from the dentist's drugs. Everyone laughed. After what they'd just been through, I could tell they needed it.






When The Henry Clay People were invited to tour with The Airborne Toxic Event, a wave of pride swept through Silver Lake and Echo Park. The HCP are a highly respected, deeply-loved group of musicians in the Los Angeles music scene it was hard to find someone who felt their fortune was ill-earned. According to the band, the first six dates of the tour were amazing. Both Andy and Joey described the Portland show as one of their best shows ever.

And then, The Airborne Toxic Event's singer got sick. Laryngitis. To date, five shows have been canceled. To a small band like The Henry Clay People, virtually unknown outside of Los Angeles, the loss of five days of revenues is devastating. Two nights before I left LA to meet with the band I got phone call from Joey. He sounded like he was at a funeral "They just canceled two more shows. I'm just giving you a heads-up. We feel like we just want to go home."

And they almost did. But an out-pouring of support from their homebase kept them going. They were offered words of comfort from everyone they knew, advances on future shows, and even donations. The tour ultimately agreed to help them float and the band has been able to get by.

But on Wednesday night they still looked like they'd been through the ringer. This night's show was cancelled, too, but the venue allowed The Henry Clay People to play-on anyway... before karaoke night.

By the band's own admission, the show was not a particularly good one. There were not thirty people in the room and twenty-five of them were sitting at the bar or in booths. (This after 200 tickets had been pre-sold for The Airborne headlining show) They sounded good, not great. The mistakes were evident, but not to an unprofessional level.

A slow-simmering performance of "I Was Half-Asleep" was inspiring, the highpoint of the set. During an Operation Ivy cover one patron stood on a bench and punched the air. Another in the back of the room happily called-out to the band from the back, acknowledging she understood that their t-shirts were a Dead Milkmen reference.

And truly, considering the circumstance, their energy was remarkable. It was, in many ways, a practice set. But while the band was dissatisfied, the worst reaction I saw in the house was neutral. Those people came to sing karaoke, not to see a concert, and they cheered from the back of the room after every song. Still, The Henry Clay People made only $18: one CD and their share of the door.

There was a silver-lining: A Lawrence-native named Jackie who has followed The Henry Clay People on myspace for a long time came just for them. She stood at the front of the stage, bobbed with glee to the music, and beamed joy. It was all The Henry Clay People needed and I don't doubt her presence helped them endure the abysmal turn-out. One perfectly satisfied customer.

Perhaps as a Hail Mary to get some crowd involvement, The Henry Clay People played an abbreviated version of their classic rock medley. When it didn't change the mood of the room, they ended their set, maybe a little short. The band stiffly walked-off the stage, certainly being harder on themselves than anybody else in the bar. Mike Hopkins went to the bathroom, placed his beer on the hand-drier, and dried the sweat on his scalp. The vibrating drier spilled the beer all over him. He came out of the bathroom shirtless. More much-needed laughter.

Set List:

Digital Kid
End of An Empire
This Ain't a Scene
Taste of the Tasteless
?
I Was Half Asleep
Something in the Water
Knowledge (Operation Ivy cover)
Classic Rock Medley

The Henry Clay People's Lawrence, KS fanbase.

Mike Hopkins FAIL.

HCP drummer Mike Hopkins helps with karaoke night.

The HCP sings karaoke.

It's evident that the difficulties of the last week have exasperated tensions within the band. The new lineup has only had a couple months to gel and they're still learning each other's personalities as a group; still learning how to deftly navigate disputes. But they all share a love of music and that binds them. I was astonished how, after one heated argument, the entire band went straight back to laughing with each other, teasing each other harmlessly as fraternal groups of men are wont to do, almost as though a switch has been flipped. If the argument was a microcosm for this leg of the tour then you can bet your bottom dollar, there will be sun.

More to come...