On Dear Rabbit’s Facebook page, there is a quote from the tiny Portland-based label Wil-Ru Records that describes the one-man band’s “They Don’t Love The Songs" album.
“Imagine attending a secret party thrown by Salvador Dali in an ornate smoke-filled drinking parlor in the dark belly of a creaky (frigate)," it says, “with Blackbeard, Captain Beefheart and a bunch of crazed, violent gypsies. Lots of old timey instrumentation played very energetically with a near-punk delivery."
That near-punk delivery, by the way, comes from a man named Rence Liam, whose booming, dramatic voice sits at the center of Dear Rabbit’s songs, which are heaving, clunky (in a good way) collisions of accordion, banjo, piano and horns. Imagine a (relatively) velvety voiced Tom Waits leading a gruffer version of Beirut through some Balkan-flavored indie-folk and you’re in the right dark belly of a creaky frigate.
Dear Rabbit; 8 p.m. Saturday; $5; The Horned Hand, 507 N.W. Colorado Ave., Bend; www.reverbnation.com/venue/thehornedhand.
