Lucas Reynolds at Smith’s Olde Bar

By: Mark Runyon in Concert Reviews on Apr. 26, 2006
PM Rating System

Lucas Reynolds at SmithGrade: C- | Genre: Alternative Rock
Summary: Wild painters flailing about, Teddy Ruxpin morphed into a boy and endless blathering about sheer nothingness. How did this sure thing show go so wrong?

Date: April 25, 2006
Location: Atlanta, GA
Blue Merle was a great band just peeking onto the musical horizon before they came to an untimely end. You could say they were aping Coldplay’s sound, but couldn’t you say the same of Stone Temple Pilots to Pearl Jam and John Mayer to Dave Matthews when they first hit the scene. They were a talented group with great potential, and it’s sad to see them fizzle out after one brief album. After missing Blue Merle’s swing through Atlanta countless times, I finally got a free evening to checkout lead singer, Lucas Reynolds, playing an intimate show at Smith’s Olde Bar. Smith’s holds in the neighborhood of 300 people so that’s quite a change from the venues three times this size that the collective played when they made their way through Atlanta. I was pretty jazzed about the possibilities inherent in this show. Little did I know about the bizarre world I was about to cross over into. Wild painters flailing about, Teddy Ruxpin morphed into a boy and endless blathering about sheer nothingness. How did this sure thing show go so wrong?


Rick Brantley opened the evening with his sound that was part Dylan, part Springsteen — yet all carbon copies of the originals. He pushed out the songs with his throaty howl with enough talent to keep you mildly interested, yet only mildly. He’s got oceans of maturing to do as a songwriter before we can really see where his potential lies. California native Brett Dennen, who proved massively surprising, followed him. He rode up on the stage looking like a 12 year old with the worst bowl haircut in the history of Great Clips and baby faced features that betrayed every one of his years. Fashion hadn’t knocked on his door since the geek patrol came calling. Once he struck up the guitar though, this man was all business. He was some wicked rhythmic combination recalling Ben Harper, Jack Johnson and even a splash of that carefree nature of Jimmy Buffett. His grooves were salacious and inviting as the jive took hold of his slinky legs. Seldom do openers do anything more than afflict your poor ears, but this was one of those few times that an artist upstaged the headliner. For that I extend kudos to Mr. Dennen.

Lucas Reynolds at Smith

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