U Weekly. Serving The Ohio State University in Columbus Ohio

Four of a Kind

By Don Allred

Super Diamond

Thursday @ THE LC

Neil Diamond’s back to the pop-rock verities on his recent albums, and even in concert. But since 1993, San Francisco’s Super Diamond have been keepin’ it real for Neil, like a candle in their fog machine, while “Sweet Caroline,” “Cracklin’ Rosie,” and “Holly Holy” stride right by pet licks from the likes of AC/DC, Led Zep, Black Sabbath, and Journey. They’re in it for the excitement, so no wonder the man himself has been known to rush the stage and growl along with Super D.’s Surreal Neil, “I am — I said!”

Electric Grandmother

Friday @ Bernie’s

Electric Grandmother channels visions of ancient TV shows, filtered through trusty old keyboards, not too dusty. He calls his music “sitcom-core,” and in live performance, his wife Mary Alice illustrates it with pictures. Electric Grandmother is a wise and faithful caretaker of his audience, just like his “Twilight Zone”-to-”NBC Peacock Special” namesake. He even knows how to tell us about “Carol’s Revenge,” although “She won’t be alone, when she falls, right now there’s no one here, to answer your call…” Hey Grandma, what if there was a TV that grew its own keyboard?

Kelly Richey Trio

Friday @ Thirsty Ear

Kelly Richey murmurs, clearly enough, “What in the world / Were we thinking / Tell me, what did you assume / That it was gonna be okay / Just live another day / What in the world / Are we gonna do?” Neither the “we” nor the basic questions are rhetorical. This Lexington-born, Cincinnati-based singer-guitarist plays down-tuned, dynamic blues for the planet, the world, and what Australians call “home truths,” even or especially when her voice is shivering like Chrissie Hynde’s, urging us to “leave the blues behind.”(It’s worth a shot, especially her way.)

Neil Diamond

Monday @ Schottenstein

Neil Diamond’s clipped, idiosyncratic phrasing and deep, “Noo Yawk” delivery guarantee melodrama, no need (except popularity!) to push it. On the other hand, Rick Rubin left Diamond’s 2005 set of “12 Songs” somewhat more bare than stark. But Diamond and Rubin paint 2008’s “Home Before Dark” in richer shades of black. “Forgotten” even recalls the folk-rock of Diamond’s (and another Mr. D.’s) prime time, with bitter, funny lines and rhymes, seemingly tossed off: They’re dark and shiny petals for a trifling lover. The sun’s still somewhere in Diamond’s clouds, and the spotlight, too.

Originally Published: August 20, 2008

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