I may just catch a heap of shit for this among my brothers in BCNC. And I probably should. But here it goes anyhow.

Like with Kermit The Frog before, and like with David Longstreth and Arthur Russell after, I was first drawn to the music of Dave Matthews because I heard in him, for better or for worse, a shared vocal DNA. His voice helped me make sense of my own weird, always slightly out of control, yalp. Plus, his music seemed the farthest cry from the Limp Bizkit and Kid Rock that reigned over my high school (pre-Myspace and instant access to the most esoteric of music). And truly, I at least knew there was excellent musicianship at play. It was a gateway drug to other great music (The Sea and Cake, Daniel Lanois, Willie Nelson, all African guitar music). And for the record, from 15 to 20, I was just as interested in Tom Waits, Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, The Chemical Brothers, Wilco, John Lennon, Wu-Tang Clan, Radiohead and The Strokes. And of course, at some point, as my tastes delved deeper into indie music, I began to grow away from Dave Matthews’ tunes, probably for several reasons, not the least of which was the heavy frat-bro presence of his fanship. 

In the summer of 2000, the band toured and premiered a heap of songs from a recent session with producer Steve Lillywhite (U2, Talking Heads, Peter Gabriel), intended for a forthcoming release. It never came. Instead, the band scrapped the session and made Everyday, the pop-stinker that broke the camel’s back on any whisper of love I still had in my heart for contemporary Dave Matthews Band. 

Sometime later, maybe in 2001 or 2002, The Lillywhite Sessions was leaked onto the Internets (Napster!), maybe by Lillywhite himself (I have a hunch). The songs were demos at best. Unmixed, murky and warbly, something reminiscent of Bob Dylan and The Band’s Basement Tapes maybe. It was, in fact, the album many Dave Matthews Band fans had been waiting on all along. The material was not a huge leap for the band, but aside from a couple toss off tracks (“Busted Stuff,” “Sweet Up and Down”), there was an honest-to-goodness darkness at play. The band, for once, didn’t feel like it was in great humor. There was real blood flowing here. They would later re-record the album and release it as Busted Stuff, but it would fall flat on mood. I found my burned copy of The Lillywhite Sessions, dated “4-23-02” (I was 21) in my friend Ryan Hochenberger’s handwriting, while visiting my parents this weekend and played it twice through on my 2.5 hour drive back to Bloomington. 

And it’s with some unease that I say that Live in Miami 1984 may very well be a bizarre mirror album to The Lillywhite Sessions, not only in its muddy, demoed sonics, but in the themes of eternal damnation, lost love and escapism. The Willie Nelson nod of DMB’s heartbreak ballad “Grace is Gone” is found in our “Wes and Tallulah,” a song about a violent hesher couple that moved in next door one summer when was 7 years old. The epic, death-obsessed centerpiece “Bartender” is our epic, death-obsessed closer, “Seagull.” The stuttered, jazz-inspired “Grey Street” throws on a pair of sunglasses and becomes our “Dot.” I could go on. And yeah, we have a killer sax player too. Jesus, did I really just type all that? I’m sorry. Really. Oh, geeze.