Concerts at the Arden Gild Hall

Joseph Arthur, photo by Joe del Tufo

Last night, Mark and I attended a concert at the Gild Hall about which the headliner called "the best concert of my life." Joseph Arthur is a folk rock singer/songwriter/instrumentalist who is known for painting artwork on stage while he is simultaneously performing music. After playing to a receptive crowd for about an hour and a half (fifteen minutes longer than his usual set), he came back onstage for an encore that lasted an additional forty-five minutes. The encore seemed like more of a house concert the way Arthur engaged with the audience. He was in full-out banter mode, which those who have experienced his previous live performances say is rare. He hardly ever talks to the audience. 

I am still a music novice and am not comfortable giving my notes on musicians except in cases when the hairs raise on my arms. I have had a few of those experiences at Gild Hall. Gil Landry, the opener for Justin Townes Earle, is one such recent example. I could have flown away on his lyrics; they were so evocative. I know that those who were sitting around me had an almost equal experience listening to Joseph Arthur. As for me, his on-stage art-making took me out of the zone needed to make such a connection. I wasn't buying into his art cred, and it became a distraction to me. I am a musical novice, but I have been studying art all my life. It is just my opinion. Arthur has Peter Gabriel and Micheal Stipe singing his praises; he doesn't need my endorsement.

But even though I had a disconnect, I have to admit that something happened last night. Something that elevated the concert-going and concert-performing experience. The Gild Hall has that kind of energy. It is a 160-year-old converted barn with a storied past that includes livestock and Georgists, costume galas and Shakespeare. Besides the fact that the barn has been outfitted with dream sound and lighting equipment, it also boasts high ceilings and warm wood. After touring the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville this fall and seeing the all wood in that place, I believe in the material's power to hold music. Something about wood brings a honeyed richness to sounds.

The Gild Hall is also about the people. The shows draw enthusiastic crowds who are not here for the glitz of a venue, but for the music, plain and simple. Ardenites walk to hear musicians whether they know them or not, simply because the music is in their back yard. They sit interspersed with fans who drive far and park in a muddy field to belt out the lyrics they have memorized from the artists they love. The Hall can seat 250 or accommodate a standing crowd of 300. Sometimes the shows are a combination of seats and dance floor. Folding chairs allow for a certain flexibility.

If you are talking about the enthusiasm of the people at these shows, you cannot overlook the fact that the entire enterprise of a concert season (15-plus shows) is entirely run by volunteers. Ron Ozer is their king. He scours the east coast, going to venues and festivals, searching for acts to bring to Arden.   He has a love of world music which means exposing our little village to voices from across the globe.  If you find Ron out in the wild and he doesn't have a flier or a poster for the next concert on his person, he is probably on his way to the emergency room. Forget that. I am sure if ever Ron Ozer had to be transported to the hospital by way of ambulance, it would only be after he had given the EMTs and driver a handbill promoting the coming show. The enthusiasm of those on the concert gild and the volunteers who sell merch, run the bar, collect tickets, and feed the band is unbounded. If I had a criticism, it would only be that the Gild needs a little more estrogen in its ranks. Even in Arden, the music scene has a gender bias.

The Arden Concert Gild has three more shows in its season. I encourage you to check out the lineup. I know the boys have fought valiantly with music management and against other venues to bring it to us. I promise you will have an experience. Perhaps I will see you there.