OK, so good intentions and all that. I had planned to offer a daily blow-by-blow of the Mission Creek Festival, and here it is a week after it got done, and I’ve yet to make good on the promise. Here’s what happened: life got in the way. The busiest week and work I’ve had in years coincided with the festival, so I was lucky to see all of the shows I did, let alone report on them. So, here, with a week’s worth of hindsight, is a quick wrap-up, highlighting all the bands I saw.

British Sea Power: A review I read of the band’s new album said something to the effect that BSP had made another compelling record that was once again free of hooks. That sounds harsh, but in a way, it’s true.  Save for the chantlike first single, “Who’s in Control?” there is nothing from the set I can recall, and certainly nothing I found myself humming even as I walked back to my car after the show. Yet it was a pretty great set, an arena-sized performance crammed into a small club. Roaring guitars, inventive songs and a slithering violin snaking through the proceedings made this a great way to start the festival. Openers A Classic Education have internalized whole genres that petered out before they were born, offering up a nice mix of shoegaze and Sarah Records-era pop.

Railroad Earth: I described this as jam band bluegrass, and that comes as close to the truth as anything. Great, fast picking, wonderful harmonies, and songs that went on far too long. When the band played together, it was really nice. When the individual members took interminable solos, not so much. I saw five songs in 45 minutes and, having had my fill, took off. The beauty of the all-access pass.

Jeff Tweedy: This was probably the most entertaining and most puzzling show of the fest. I had read a review of Tweedy’s show from the previous night, which reported that the crowd was unruly and obnoxious. I began to wonder about halfway through the set if that’s something Tweedy brings on himself. He’s not obnoxious, far from it. But he has developed a sharp wit and a masterful stage presence, and it is as if his stance –whether by design or default — seems to encourage the crowd to test him. So, while his song choice and performance was top-notch as always — a solo version of “Wilco (the song)” proving he can do just about anything in that context — the crowd took things out of his hand for a while. At one point, a drunken girl shouted, “my dad is the mayor of Cedar Rapids!” “Now we know who you are,” Tweedy said. He subsequently played the Handsome Family’s “So Much Wine” as a sort of kiss off.

Thurston Moore/Kim Gordon: This was the let down of the festival. A Q&A with the Sonic Youth founders that was moderated by University of Iowa professor Kembrew McLeod was often boring, with the two laconic artists rarely engaged, and McLeod’s questions ranged from too specific to too self-serving (yes, you know Public Enemy. Good for you). A show later that evening with the amazing drummer Chris Corsano was also a dud. The pair had promised two sets — one of noise, the other of “song-based” material. Instead, we got one slightly longer set of noise, capped with a slightly less noisy song where Kim Gordon “sang.” I had hoped for material like that found on Moore’s fairly brilliant Trees Around the Academy release, but instead got the typical head-down noodling and feedback that is interesting only in the service of a song.

Guided by Voices: This was the highlight of the festival. Anyone who reads this with any regularity knows GBV is my favorite band, so the chance to see the reunited group about a mile from my house (after having traveled to Minneapolis and Chicago to see them last fall) was wonderful. Of the three reunion shows I saw, this was the best. I think the size of the room and my proximity account for much of that, but the set, having evolved to include a few tracks from Mag Earwhig! and excluding much of Mitch Mitchell’s ridiculous rap on the too-long reimagining of “Lethargy,” didn’t hurt. They’re playing Pitchfork and a few other places, but I think I’m sated now.

Kurt Vile: I didn’t get the hype about Vile until hearing his new album. There, promising moments coalesced into promising songs. In a live setting, some of the songs were elevated, the energy of performance giving them an extra kick. Others sagged, missing the atmosphere of the studio. Overall, the sound was less nuanced, more forecful, sounding for all the world like a second-tier Seattle band from the early 1990s (that’s not a slight; that second tier takes up significant shelf space in my CD collection). That new album and Vile’s performance moved him up my list from “mild curiousity” to “one to watch.”

Wye Oak: I’ve missed Wye Oak the past few times they have played town, but I won’t again. I’ve really liked their three albums, but I loved their set. Everything clicked for me seeing them live. Jenn Wasner is a monster on the guitar, and Andy Stack is dextrous and assured as he plays drums and keyboards simultaneously. Going back to listen to the albums after seeing the show, they have added depth and color. What a great band.

With Guided by Voices as the top-billed act, you know it’s a lock that I’m going to be all over the Mission Creek Festival. Starting tonight and running through next Monday, the festival brings dozens of music acts and authors to town for eight big nights of rockin’ and reading. In its sixth year, the festival seems to have come into its own, nabbing top-drawer acts that span genres, and putting together a schedule that is manageable and appealing.

Over the course of eight nights, there are shows I want to see on at least seven of them (a great local band that I’ve seen dozens of times plays Friday, and that might give me the chance to catch up on some sleep). I’ll write a bit about each night, which will include reports about several bands I’ve not heard before, as well as some like Jeff Tweedy, Kim and Thurston from Sonic Youth and Guided by Voices — that I have seen before.

One of the top draws is one I’ll likely pass on: filmmaker John Waters. I saw him lecture in Iowa City a few years ago, and while he was entertaining, I don’t need to hear him again.

Here’s what to expect in next day reports:

Tuesday: British Sea Power
Wednesday: Railroad Earth
Thursday:  A taping of the great Sound Opinions radio show and a solo Jeff Tweedy show.
Friday: Gordon/Moore (a lecture and performance)
Sunday: Guided by Voices
Monday: Kurt Vile
Tuesday: Wye Oak

There also are several top-notch authors in town for the fest, and as energy and life allow, I’ll check out some of them as well. Stay tuned for much more.

The official release of a live Bob Dylan performance from 1963, In Concert Brandeis University 1963, affords listeners the opportunity to better chart the singer’s evolution from talented yet tentative folksinger to seasoned concert performer in two years. That evolution, viewed in hindsight, would seem to be an important catalyst that drove his explosive move into electric music and beyond.

While dedicated Dylan-philes have been able to compare and contrast performances from various periods thanks to bootleg recordings, those unable or unwilling to track down these documents have been less able to do so. But with this new release, Dylan has now officially released live recordings from 1962, 1963 and 1964 (keeping in mind that collections like the Bootleg Series Vols. 1-3 have live tracks from this period as well), and this offer a chance to hear him grow as an artist and performer.

The main difference among these performances is Dylan’s confidence as a performer. On Live at the Gaslight 1962, he seems most intent on getting the songs across. He is seasoned enough not to stumble – though “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right” is new enough that mumbles his way through a few lines – but this is a more workmanlike run through the songs. He is singing, not necessarily performing.

By 1963, on the new In Concert Brandeis University 1963, He is performing. There is a confidence. The songs stand on their own, and so Dylan is able augment them with some personality. There is a wink here, as he lets the audience know that a Dylan concert is about more than guitar picking and long strings of words. On Gaslight, the message is the message, so to speak. On Brandeis, the medium – in this case, the singer himself – is as much the message as the songs.

That brings us to The Bootleg Series Vol. 6: Live 1964. There is no clean comparison among all of these releases, as there is no song common to all three. However, one can compare Dylan’s performance of “Don’t Think Twice” on Gaslight and 1964 and the performance of “Talking John Birch Paranoid Blues” on Brandeis and 1964 to get a sense of his evolution.

It’s no surprise that 1964 captures the most accomplished Dylan of the three sets. He’s older, wiser and has many more concerts and successes under his belt by this point. On Gaslight, “Don’t Think Twice” is slightly tentative. He’s a young performer trying to remember the words. On 1964, he’s singing a hit, bringing a keening quality to his vocal. His phrasing is pointed, and his harmonica gives the song a richness and depth missing from the earlier version. He is giving a concert, not tossing off a few songs in a club gig.

“Talking John Birch Paranoid Blues” is even more revelatory. Between May 10, 1963, and Oct. 31, 1964, the song has gone from a well-crafted batch of one-liners designed to garner laughs to a pointed critique that is introduced with more personality than on the earlier version. Dylan knows his laugh lines and delivers them like a pro. And while some of this can be chalked up to the improved fidelity on the 1964 performance, it seems clear that Dylan is simply better at putting his songs across. He enunciates more clearly, performs with more verve and variation.

This evolution from confidence to mastery in just two years likely is one factor in Dylan’s decision to embrace rock instrumentation on the album he was conceiving at the time, Bringing it all Back Home. In a way, Dylan had painted himself into a corner. People knew what to expect from him, and he had grown able to deliver it very, very well. In the first of what has become a career pattern, he tackled something new, forcing himself to grow and causing his audience to adapt or fall behind.

So, yes, the guys in Crowded House can flat out play. And yes, Neil Finn remains one of the best pop songwriters out there. But those weren’t reasons why the band’s show at the Minneapolis Zoo on Saturday was so good. Chalk that up to the connection between the artist and the audience. It was that extra element that made the show — despite more than a handful of technical difficulties — one of the best of the year.

I’m a big Crowded House fan, something I didn’t really realize until 1997, when Finn dissolved the band and went solo. I attended my first Finn-related concert that year, catching him on the tour for Try Whistling This. My love of his superior pop soundcraft was amplified by that experience. The performance was so good — pristine playing, tons of energy and full of Finn’s sharp wit — that the connection was forged. I realized Saturday that I’ve seen him on every tour since — a couple of shows during SXSW in support of One Nil, three years ago for Time on Earth (more on that later) and now this.

Each time, it was the connection that made the show transcendent. Which brings me to the Time on Earth tour. My wife and I saw them at the House of Blues in Chicago. Or rather, were in the same room with them. It was a sellout in an otherwise awful room. They were being taped for a webcast, so extra lights and cameras on huge booms swooped in front of the stage. We could hear a bit and see nothing, and actually left early. The problem? There was no connection. It was like sitting in your house trying to hear a loud radio from next door. Determined to see the band, I went to Minneapolis later in the tour to catch them at a theater. I left transfixed.

Which brings me to Saturday. After a short, spirited set from Lawrence Arabia, Crowded House came out to start a set that lasted nearly two hours. They opened with “Private Universe,” a song reliant on atmospherics for its opening hook, and their success with that seemed to bode well for the rest of the show. They went from that right into a bit of a career bookend, with “Saturday Sun” from Intriguer followed by “World Where You Live” from their debut (one of four songs from that album). Next was “Either Side of the World,” the current single, and one of five songs from the new album. I was disappointed not to hear “Amsterdam” (could have switched out “Archer’s Arrows,” which doesn’t do it for me), but the rest of the selections from Intriguer were spot on. A nice cameo from Sharon Finn on “Arrows” and “Isolation.”

The surprise was the lack of material from Time on Earth. I wasn’t sorry, having heard much of that album live a few years ago. They did “Don’t Stop Now” and “Heaven That I’m Making.”

The rest was a nice sampling from the rest of the catalog. “Chocolate Cake” rose above its dated lyrics (with help from a funny Lindsay Lohan reference) to provide a spark, while “When You Come” from Temple of Low Men was a treat.  “Fall At Your Feet,” “Don’t Dream It’s Over” and “Weather With You” were predictable singalongs (and the outdoor setting was perfect; everyone could sing along, but our voices rose to the heavens and didn’t drown out the band). The encore was full of hits (at least in the Crowded House universe), with “Locked Out,” “Something So Strong,” “Weather With You” and a closing “Better Be Home Soon.”

So, about that connection thing. Finn and bassist Nick Seymour were witty and chatty as always, playing off of the zoo setting to do animal noises and bird calls, and to speculate about how the animals were responding to the band’s set. Strangely, though, references to the lion’s den in “When You Come” and the entire song “Elephants” were left on the table untouched; too easy, perhaps. The amphitheatre helped with the connection, as it was the most intimate 1,400 seat venue I’ve ever seen. The performance, though marred by a spotty mix at times, was energetic and sounded great. It was more than the reproduction of recorded songs; it was an event.

Regrets are few: I would have loved to hear “Distant Sun,” and seeing the setlist on CrowdedHouse.com that lists “I Got You” and “History Never Repeats” as potential second encore tunes makes me wish the zoo didn’t have a curfew. But those are petty gripes. It was a great show by a great band that, despite a long layoff and a sound far outside the mainstream, is firing on all cylinders.

Listening to St. Vincent perform Tuesday night in Iowa City, I couldn’t help but think of Taylor Swift. Both are young women in the music business, but the comparison stops there. Annie Clark, who performs as St. Vincent, is wildly talented, with an angelic voice, serious guitar chops and considerable songwriting skills. In contrast, Swift, if reports are to be believed, can’t carry a tune, but has handlers who are able to cloak those deficiencies in pleasing arrangements of powerful pop songs (I haven’t knowingly heard a note of her music, so I’ll take the critics’ word on that one).

So, why did I think of one while watching the other? It’s that tired music critic trope: “In a perfect world, artist X would be a star,” the laziest of reviews always begin. I don’t know that the world will need to be perfect for Clark to be a star; she seems on the cusp already, and has arrived there seemingly without compromise. Yes, her songs have just enough edge to keep the indie kids in perpetual swoon, and just enough polish and soft edges to keep the attention of the more adventurous soccer moms when they come on NPR in the minivan, but it never feels calculated.

When standing at Tuesday’s show, I thought the same thing of Clark that I’ve long thought about Neko Case: I wonder what would happen if she completely sold out for one album, went to Nashville (or in the case of Clark, Hollywood) and turned herself over to the hitmaking machine. Both are too talented, ambitious and feisty (no pun intended there, though that’s another, less likely example, one supposes) to ever do so, but the prospect is intriguing nonetheless.

Case has proven that following her own path is working, and Clark seems to be taking a similar, parallel journey. The show was good, at times great, as she injected a bit of drama into already solid songs from her latest album, Actor. The set-up made it clear that this would not be a typical indie rock show. While she held down the front of the stage on vocals and guitar, the musicians surrounding her played flute, saxophone, violin, cheesy 80s keyboards and electronic drums. The whole works on album, and did so here (despite my feeling at times like the manufactured nature of the music could stand an organic kick in the pants from more traditional instruments).

It’s probably demeaning to suggest that Clark’s appeal stems in part from the fact that she’s quite comely and, as evidenced by her stage banter, enchantingly charming. That seems to have gotten Swift’s shaky pipes to the top of the charts, but for Clark, it’s the bow on top of an already incredibly appealing package. Her songs, guitar playing and singing are what hook you, and while you might not mind gazing at her doe-eyed visage while spinning the disc, it won’t be the reason you picked it up in the first place.

The show proved that her albums are no fluke, which only made me pine more for what comes next. Actor and its predecessor, Marry Me, are awfully good. All evidence suggests the next one could be tremendous.

To see what the fuss is about, watch her appearance last week on KCRW’s “Morning Becomes Eclectic:”

A member of the Iowa legislature has proposed a bill that would make it unlawful to advertise or produce a concert by an act claiming to be a classic group if it didn’t have at least one original member.

Bob Dvorsky said he introduced the legislation after talking about the idea with Jon “Bowzer” Bauman, a former member of Sha Na Na, during a recent tour stop.

Similar bills have passed in 33 other states. The bills differentiate between “performing groups” and “recording groups,” with the latter being seen as legitimate because at least one member appeared on a recording under the group’s name. All bets are off if the performing group has a right to the name through trademark.

The Iowa bill would block performances that don’t meet the standard and administer a civil penalty of up to $40,000 per incident.

That’s all well and good, and from a legal standpoint it makes sense. But it in no way ensures a level of quality even in groups that pass that test. There are many bands on the road with just one original member, or even less in the case of some, where a latter day drummer or bassist carries on under the name. Having covered my share of fairs, holiday celebrations and such as a newspaper critic, I can assure you that plenty of acts would be deemed legal but yet be criminal in the court of taste.

One of the worst offenders I have witnessed is Creedence Clearwater Revisited (pictured above). Yes, they altered the name to indicate their “tribute”status, but original CCR drummer and bassist Doug Clifford and Stu Cook give the group a cachet that leads listeners to expect something special. It’s not just that the group’s singer does a sorry impersonation of John Fogerty, but that the band doesn’t understand its own music. Introducing Fogerty’s poignant anti-war song, “Who’ll Stop the Rain,” Clifford said, “This is one that goes down smooth, like a good brewski.” Such cluelessness ought to be against the law, but sadly, it’s not.

Then again, if these acts were forced off the road, every county fair in the country would be left with little more than karaoke as an entertainment option (unless, of course they ponied up for the real thing… highly unlikely). So, we’re destined for festivals with marquee acts anchored by the third drummer or second bassist of an act we once knew and loved, pale imitations of the real thing.

Still this bill and those like it already on the books are a start.

I caught a fantastic show last night in Iowa City, finally getting the chance to see the Brad Mehldau Trio in person. I’ve been a fan for years, and so it was nice to experience them live.

This was a make-up gig from 2005 when Mehldau was snowed in and couldn’t reach Iowa City for a show. This time, he almost was forced to postpone again, but the problem was on our end: the University of Iowa’s Hancher Auditorium was severely damaged during massive flooding we experienced here in June. The facility won’t open until 2010, but in the meantime many of this season’s shows were rescheduled for area venues (new season tagline: “Can’t Contain Us.”) This show was at the City High School auditorium, and it’s a safe guess that no matter how talented the school’s many alums may have been, this was the best thing to ever grace that stage.

I wrote a review for CorridorBuzz.com where those interested can find out all of the details. Suffice to say it was the best jazz I’ve seen this year, and that’s saying something given the caliber of talent at this year’s Iowa City Jazz Festival.

I saw three bands last night whose appeal ran counter to their spot on the bill. The night opened (for me, anyway), with the Broken West, a California band whose sophomore disc, Now or Heaven, is an outstanding creative leap. While I do miss some of the raucous power pop of the band’s debut, I Can’t Go On, I’ll Go On, that’s more than made up for by the sophistication on display on the new one.

Live, the band found a more fitting middle ground, adding a bit of rock muscle to the newer, more atmospheric tunes, offering listeners a bridge between old and new. The set was an even split between the two albums, with the new material easily holding its own against the older, more familiar material. “House of Lies” was the standout among the new tracks, taking on a swagger not present on the more mannered studio version. Meanwhile, older favorites like “On the Bubble,” “So it Goes” and “Down in the Valley” were welcome additions, the last of those providing a manic penultimate tune for the set, followed by a very effective “Brass Ring,” also from the debut, that was only slightly less energetic than its precursor.

If you have the chance to see this band in a club now, take advantage. I predict bigger stages for these guys in the near future.

Following the Broken West was Centro-Matic, a band that seemed to take a while to get into its set, but which delivered a nice, consistent set once it did. The charisma factor dropped considerably between the two bands, as C-M leader Will Johnson stood at the side of the stage and didn’t seem to engage the crowd much. Musically, however, the band was solid. I’ve always admired the band (and alter-ego South San Gabriel), but find their output daunting and haven’t done more than dabble (I can only follow a handful of uber-prolific artists, and those slots are taken by Robert Pollard and Will Oldham at the moment).

Headliner Langhorne Slim was a disappointment. After two hours of superior songcraft, his wordy, rockabilly schtick was tiresome. He was full of energy, but so many have done this so much better that I can only chalk up his accolades to long-term memory loss among listeners and/or the constantly renewing crop of fans who ensure that the fact that there is nothing new under the sun isn’t really an impediment. Granted, I took in only two songs before heading home for bed, but it just wasn’t doing it for me. I’d vote to give that extra stage time to the Broken West every time.