Champale Brings Smirkless Pop, and a Wig, to Brownies

Champale Brownies (July 26) The last time I was at Brownies was at least a year ago, to see Clem Snide play. And how's that for synchronicity, because Clem Snide cellist Jason Glasser also plays with Champale, and several members of Champale play on Snide's The Ghost of Fashion. In fact, the last time I saw Champale it was at Mercury Lounge for the Snide record release party. There was lots of incestuous band-swapping going on that night (made even more complicated by the presence of Boston's Pee Wee Fist, whose leader, Pete Fitzpatrick, is now a semi-official member of Snide). I like that. It makes me feel like I've stumbled onto a scene.

As usual at Brownies, the crowd up front paid attention, while the people at the bar chatted about the music business and ignored the music. I arrived early, somehow found a seat in back and noticed a woman with short blonde hair sitting up front with her friends. When Champale took the stage I realized this was the band's vibraphonist Erin Elstner. She had donned a blonde wig?blonde on blonde?the same 60s-cut bob she always wears onstage. It's a wonderful bit of theater. I can't take my eyes off her?not because she's cute (though she is), but because her wig evokes an entire encyclopedia of pop culture references: swingin' London dolly-birds, a drag-queen dominatrix, the cover of Some Girls. Elstner's look is Champale's one concession to kitsch (aside from the name), and it makes a pleasing contrast with the band's music?which takes its pop pleasure very seriously indeed. Ah yes, the music. Champale reminds me a little of Cardinal, the Webb Brothers, even Matthew Sweet (when he's not trying to recreate Revolver). Buoyed by saxophone, trumpet and vibes, which take up most of the space that other bands reserve for guitar solos, Champale remains anchored in a 70s FM radio sensibility, blessedly free of indie-rock irony and alterna-rock ponderousness. Lead singer/guitarist/songwriter Mark Rozzo is a wounded romantic, with the Chilton-esque habit of switching from a sweet tenor to an earnest falsetto whenever his yearning overwhelms him. Early in the set they play "See You Around," a Big Star-ish kiss-off propelled by Elstner's vibes that reaches for transcendence?swelling horns, repeated chorus?before cooling off in a sly jazz coda. The rest of the set passed in a blur for me (Rheingolds, etc.), but I remember enjoying the band's excursions into power-pop, soul balladry and country rock (this last abetted by a lap-steel player, who was sitting in for regular cellist Jason Glasser). Toward the end of the set they played a cover of "Sentimental Lady" so assured I figured it was an original (a friend later reminded me that Bob Welch wrote it 30 years ago). At this point, I realized that no one at the bar was talking. Champale's smirkless pop?and that wig?had left them speechless.