Towers of Song: Three new singer-songwriter showcases prove our local bards ain’t slouchin’

Coming from a small town where a Saturday night music marquee often means three hours of Rockin’ Dave singing the hits on his acoustic guitar, I tend to avoid singer-songwriter nights the way I avoid nightmare-inducing horror films: out of a blend of fear and habit.

But that’s changing. Right now, Kansas City has a wealth of talented solo music makers. Their high level of industry at the moment (due, I suspect, to staying in and woodshedding instead of going out and spending money), combined with bars wanting to attract customers during those long early evening hours, lately has created a fresh crop of no-cover nights devoted to free minstrelsy. Best of all, the hackneyed Rockin’ Dave-types aren’t part of the program.

My sojourn across this revived scene began two Tuesdays ago at the Czar Bar, where, for the past two and a half months, curly haired verse-killer Thommy Hoskins has been hosting his weekly Songwriter’s Consortium. Hoskins had invited the disarming and surprisingly soulful Liz Perry, who, when joined by her sister Joanna on acoustic guitar, backup vocals and violin, constituted a balladeering-babe powerhouse. Also on the bill: David Bennett, who could definitely turn a finely wrought melody, but whose style and demeanor were straight out of the Sufjan Stevens playbook, right down to the whispery falsetto, baseball cap and banjo.

After each artist played a few songs, Hoskins interviewed them, asking questions about where they liked to write (Perry: in the car), what their favorite road-trip albums were, what songs they wish they’d written and so forth. Hoskins, it should be noted, is not your typical Birkenstocked coffee-shop barnacle. The 28-year-old veteran of the bands Buffalo Saints and Blackpool Lights is way more rock ‘n roll. He’s a funny, self-deprecating host, and I hope he follows through on his plan to webcast the Consortium.

The audience was light, but — and this would be true with all three nights I attended — other area songwriters were present, including Margo May. A crowd built up toward the end, almost drowning out Hoskins’ own songs, which sounded more John Lennon than the alt-country tunes he used to pen in BuffSaints.

Night two: Kirsten Paludan‘s Troubadours Music Club at the Bulldog — also free, but this time with drink specials. Paludan, whose name I hear mispronounced and see misspelled more than anyone else’s in the scene (seriously, bookers, get the woman’s goddamn name right), is the backup singer for Olympic Size. I’d seen her a dozen times with the band but never by herself.

Her voice is lithe and loud and sonorous, like a less-busy Joni Mitchell. (No sooner had I written Joni’s name in my notebook, in fact, than she did a cover of “Blue.”) Paludan’s alto gave Townes Van Zandt‘s mumbly classic “If I Needed You” a baroque quality. I also didn’t know this about Paludan: her stepdad’s a songwriter named Jim Ritchey, whose work has been performed by Kenny Rogers, Kelley Hunt and a slew of others.

After Paludan’s originals-heavy opening set, the two-piece Alley Flowers got up and strummed mandolin and ukulele and kicked bass drum. The male-female duo sang its indie-tinged tunes in the full-on hollerin’ style of Mates of State — with frequently shrill results. If Paludan was cocktail-lounge professional, these kids were busker-scrappy.

Closing the Troub Club was Katlyn Conroy, leader of the group Another Holiday. Key-tickling Conroy’s cool, nuanced performance evoked Regina Spektor without all the annoying vocal noodling.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have much time to spend at the third consecutive songwriter show. But, on Thursday, before taking off for Motorhead at the Midland, I stopped by Elaine McMilian‘s night back at Czar Bar. The veteran, redheaded songstress had booked a great lineup that included grizzly ol’ Chad Rex, funny and formidable Jenny Carr and New Yorker Richard Alwyn, who founded the Love Hangover, a live-music tradition celebrated in several U.S. cities the day after Valentine’s Day.

McMilian’s night — which has been going since this past spring — was the best attended of all three by far. In the house were scene luminaries such as Howard Iceberg and Scott Easterday. It was an older crowd; some folks had brought their little kids. (Note: McMilian swaps every other week with Bill Sundahl and his band the Columns.)

Over all three nights, what struck me was not just the quality but also the variety of performances. It wasn’t just singing and strumming. There were ukes, mandolins, dobros, synths, drum machines, live drums, soloists, ensembles — everything short of full bands.

Also, it wasn’t too formal. If you wanted to have a conversation over your cheap martini at the Bulldog, you could. Or you could tune in to the interesting, original music onstage. It’s even a good deal for the musicians, who get paid by the venues and get deals on drinks and food.

It almost makes Kansas City seem like a real music town.