Bearsville Theater: Ain't No Party Like a Psychedelic Party
Nels Cline, Marco Benevento, Scott Metzger, Jay Collins, Joel Harrison, Klyde Jones and Josh Dion blew it all up and put it all back together in Woodstock, NY.
Guitarist Nels Cline of Wilco performs with the Psychedelic Party at the Bearsville Theater in Woodstock, NY, Friday night, Aug. 16. Photo by John W. Barry
Late in the evening of June 1, I walked out of the Bearsville Theater in Woodstock, NY, feeling like a bright, red, blinking neon light.
In my mind, my glow was so bright, so urgent, so demanding of attention that everyone was staring, but not in a condescending way. They were staring in a “right on, brother” way, as if to say, “that cat just saw the show of a lifetime, he’s taking it home with him and he’s going to share that glow with anyone who wants in on the magic of this moment.”
And just as it was discussed in the legendary 1946 motion picture, “It’s A Wonderful Life” (my all-time favorite, thank you very much, Clarence Oddbody AS2), there were most certainly moonbeams shooting out of my fingers and my toes and the split ends of my hair. That’s because I felt like I had swallowed the moon whole, courtesy of Don Was and the Pan-Detroit Ensemble, whose members had lassoed Earth’s lunar satellite and invited me and my fellow freaks to take a big ol’ bite.
Joel Harrison performs with the Psychedelic Party at the Bearsville Theater in Woodstock, NY, Friday night, Aug. 16. Photo by John W. Barry
As crazy as this sounds, it’s all true. I know as much because I was there. June 1 marked the grand re-opening of the Bearsville Theater, in the Woodstock hamlet of Bearsville, under the stewardship of music impresario Peter Shapiro of Wetlands Preserve, Brooklyn Bowl, Capitol Theatre and Fare Thee Well Fame. After spending millions to buy the Bearsville Theater Complex, millions more to renovate it and rebranding it all as Bearsville Center, owner Lizzie Vann teamed up with Pete and gave him the reins to run this hip-hop-happening venue with the Catskill Mountains vibe.
I have been seeing shows at the Bearsville Theater since at least the late 1990s—I think. So hear me now, and listen later, when I say that Peter Shapiro waved his wand big time before unveiling the latest incarnation of the historic music venue originally envisioned by another impresario, the late Albert Grossman. I don’t know what was in the air at the Don Was show, but it was intoxicating, game-changing, life-altering and charged with an insane number of electrons. The brick and mortar of the Bearsville Theater that night defied time and space to create a dimension all its own. I’m convinced that this concert hall was either sprinkled with a generous amount of fairy dust or that my favorite snack, peanut butter, was applied to the foundation, beneath the floorboards, to conjure righteous, impassioned, legit, committed and divine spirits.
Could this be an accurate assessment of why my brain exploded on June 1? Why, yes, of course it is!
Sax player Jay Collins is deep in the groove while performing with the Psychedelic Party at the Bearsville Theater in Woodstock, NY, Friday night, Aug. 16. Photo by John W. Barry
I bring all of this up because I returned to the Bearsville this past Friday, Aug. 16, for the first time since that mind-bender of a Don Was show. The occasion this time around was the Psychedelic Party with guitarist Nels Cline of Wilco; keyboard wizard Marco Benevento of solo fame and Joe Russo’s Almost Dead; Scott Metzger of JRAD; sax and flute player Jay Collins, formerly of Gregg Allman & Friends and the Levon Helm Band; guitarist and vocalist Joel Harrison; Klyde Jones on bass; and drummer Josh Dion.
As the kids say these days, this show left me with plenty to unpack.
For starters, let me say that there was no assembly required. It was all, “Push play and go.” The heavens roared. The stars gave their blessings. The waters sang. And the mighty Catskills, nearby, sighed, very loudly, with delight.
When I arrived the show had started and there was a lot of noodling going on. But that evolved into this world music kind of thing, with Harrison’s vocals tying all the loose ends together with something akin to righteous chanting.
Nels Cline? He did it all, let it all unravel, wound it all back up again and then, you know the deal, rinse, dry, repeat.
Scott Metzger greased the gears and kept it all running like clockwork.
Marco Benevento, as he always is, was on fire. His smile was our own collective smile in the audience.
Clyde Jones held it all together as everyone jumped in the deep end.
And Josh Dion—holy smokes, Josh Dion. He played drums as though he had eight arms instead of two and maintained the adrenalized, exhilarated and “yeah, let’s do this” facial expression of someone on one of those water park log flumes, just as they are about to descend into the big splash. Giddy up, Josh Dion!
These musicians were volcanic. I’m talking hot magma here. But the night belonged to Jay Collins. Jay was breathing fire when he blew into that sax. He was the evening’s high-wire trapeze artist. He reeled it all in, then let it all unfurl. His vocals brought gravity to this hot-air balloon of a musical ensemble, and I’ll never forget when Jay stepped up to the mic and began singing, “Empty Pages.”
Yeah, Jay!
But I must end things with a special round of applause for Peter Shapiro. How were the glowing coals of that June 1 Don Was show still giving off heat six weeks later? How does brick and mortar maintain soul and spirit? How does a room, a space that cannot be touched, that is created by walls and ceiling, breathe?
I think all of us, any of us who have been to Tribeca, Brooklyn, Nashville, Las Vegas, Port Chester or Bearsville, we all know how all of this happens. Well, we have our suspicions, anyway. It’s Peter Shapiro who knows the secrets of this sauce.
See you all soon. Karina Rykman at the Bearsville on Sept. 14, anyone?