Review | Mountain Jams and Joys on the Hill

Coming hot on the heels of the massively tasty My Morning Jacket (MMJ) show at the Santa Barbara Bowl, Mt. Joy staked its own special claim in the historic venue. The two bands share some common ground, stylistically and attitudinally, stirring up savory stews of rock heat, pop hooks, good positive vibes, and license to stretch out. And both have a certain je ne sais quoi in terms of feeling right at home at the Bowl, the difference being that MMJ has become a favorite returning act here for many years, while the Philadelphia-born in Los Angeles–based Mt. Joy was making its auspicious debut last week.

A seeming consensus opinion in the full house: Mt. Joy and the Bowl make for a beautiful match. The band’s felicitous meld of Americana and other American genres, plus its well tended qualities of dynamics and dimensionality in its live show, make for a winning concert experience, particularly in this “room.”

As for the inevitable band sound comparison game, Mt. Joy has been lumped in with the Lumineers, with whom they have shared bills and playlists, and validated by such wordless-hook confections as Mt. Joy’s opening tune, “Jenny Jenkins.” But distinctions separate them from the pack. For one, this is the only band on the planet (apart from a future Mt. Joy tribute bands) that can launch into a strangely hooky tune, adorned by cartoony and psychedelically cosmic imagery on the screen and have the crowd supply the catchy refrain: “Jesus drives an Astrovan.”

In the beginning was “Astrovan,” a humble and quirky number put out by band co-founders and co-songwriters Matt Quinn (vocals) and Sam Cooper (guitar) in 2016 and quickly turned into a viral hit.

In this band, part of the charm lies in its juggling act of things gritty and pretty. In the former category are Cooper’s muscular and sometimes rough edge guitar parts and soloing, in contrast to keyboardist Jackie Miclau’s more lyrical, rippling, and mellifluous piano playing. Singer Quinn bridges worlds of crystal-clear pop gleam and high, gruff soul belting. The edges meet in a happy middle.

Shades of the Lumineers’ happy time formula shine through on their hit “Silver Lining,” but they easily slide over to Motown-y soul mode on “Julia,” Quinn fluidly slipping into his falsetto for the occasion. Other musical vectors during the two-set concert included the postmodern party tune “She Wants to go Dancing,” and the simmering, mesmerizing pop-soul of “Dirty Love.”

As a suitably diverse indicator of the band’s multidirectional interests, the cover song factor of the set list included the Grateful Dead’s “I Know You Rider,” and “Not Fade Away” — with jam time extensions — and the punchier, punkier Pixies classic “Where is My Mind?” along with “Teenage Dirtbag,” by Wheatus. 

Quinn has deflected questions about any direct Christian elements in the band or its songbook, given the fact that Mt. Joy is the name of various churches and its career-launching hit puts Jesus in the driver seat — albeit of an Astrovan. Quinn prefers to think of the band’s perspective as relating to a more general and inclusive spirituality, explaining the Jesus reference as a metaphor to the higher power of music itself.

And, after all, whatever the spiritual affiliation, “God Loves Weirdos,” to quote the dreamy and loping tune from their new album Hope We Have Fun. The phrase is more religious, per se, than a t-shirt sighting aside in an “us against them” love story.

Mt. Joy may be a good time machine, live and on record, but social commentary and activist compassion are also woven into the band’s fabric. After keeping his between-song banter minimal and pleasant for most of the concert, Quinn launched into a passionate testimonial about the importance of human bonding in our current fractured age. He spoke about their concern for a friend afflicted with brain tumors, extending to tragic circumstances on broader personal and global levels.

“You see people suffering in Palestine and you feel like there is no more humanity left in the world,” he commented. “We’re just a band and I don’t know any way out, but finding our humanity and love for each other is vital. There are always signs of hope.”

With the culminating affirmation of the luminous “Silver Lining,” Mt. Joy left a Bowl-ful of old and new fans in a blissful Sunday night state. I nominate the band as a ripe candidate for the Bowl’s official repeat visitor list, but I think others have already beat me to that punch.