Nikki Lane with Jamie Wyatt

Madison’s High Noon Saloon just needed a little sawdust on the dancefloor to turn Nikki Lane and Jamie Wyatt’s December 15th gig into a rhinestone-lined honky-tonk heaven. Cowboy hats, leather boots and faded denim filled the bar as the straight-shooting down-to-earth Nikki brought her sinful grins and twinkling side-eye along with a crackerjack band, an up-and-coming opener and of course her beautifully rootsy tunes; sassy, rockabilly vamps and country-punk blasts that scoot, woo and rumble in biographical passion and vintage kinship.

Kicking the night off with three songs from her 2017 album, “Highway Queen,” Lane vaped and sipped from a tin cup, prowling the stage and working up the gumption to let her hair down and talk about her latest album, “Denim and Diamonds.” Nikki bought the domain rights to Denim and Diamonds in a late-night impulse she did not remember until the paperwork came through the next day. Apparently Carrie Underwood used the phrase previously but Nikki informed the audience that Carrie was rich and didn’t need the money like she did.

An Acoustic Evening with Lyle Lovett and John Hiatt

While you were asked not to take pictures of the show, John Hiatt and Lyle Lovett had you covered, painting pictures with their songs and in an acoustic evening sitting around trading stories, these two iconic songwriters colored their lyrical inspirations with rambling anecdotes, sly jokes, friendly teasing and open admiration. Emphasizing the homey nature of their show, the conversations often centered around the inspirations found in families. Marriage, children, love, all figured prominently in Hiatt’s, “Georgia Rae,” who then touched hearts by announcing the subject of the song, his baby daughter is about to have her own baby. Generations and traditions came across in Lovett’s, “12th of June,” whose own life arc had him waxing about being a first-time father late in life. Speaking of, “the irrefutable logic of a two-year old,” after performing, “Pants Are Overrated,” Lovett brought his dry wit and deadpan delivery in perfect harmony to the low-key atmosphere of musicians chatting, interviewing each other as fans as much as colleagues, calling each other their hero and praising albums, songs and the people who played on them.

Spoon with Bodega

For a band promoting a new album and the fifteen anniversary of another, Austin’s Spoon seemed equally psyched to dip into their deep catalog and play fan favorites. While, “Lucifer on the Sofa,” and, “Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga,”, had prominent roles on their July 13th setlist, tracks from “Gimme Fiction,” and, “They Want My Soul,” came up frequently, highlighting their ten album career with cuts from, “Girls Can Tell,” and, “Kill The Moonlight.” Meanwhile, the band’s influences made an appearance in their five-song encore, covering John Lennon’s heart-wrenching, “Isolation,” and, joined by opener Bodega, to crank out Wire’s ecstatic, “Mannequin,” for a show packed with frenzied chemistry.

The band threw themselves, sometimes literally, into the twenty-one song, hour and a half performance, a burlesque of ballistic blues, roadhouse honky-tonk and Memphis soul tuned to tasty Texas rock. There was little chit chat from frontman Britt Daniel beyond a passing remark about Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga’s anniversary and The Sylvee being a new space for them. The band has split its tours between Madison and Milwaukee for nearly two decades and seemed intent on filling the new, bigger venue with to the rafter passion. Based on the after-show conversations, they succeeded admirably.

Jenny Hval

On Jenny Hval’s bandcamp page there is a quote. “In 2020, like everyone else, I was just a private person. No artists were allowed to perform. I was reduced to ‘just me.’” For those who have experienced her previous theatrically crafted performances and followed her perceptive conceptual albums tackling imposed meaning, language games and sensual connections, the question, who exactly is Jenny Hval was hidden inside her electronic conjurings stalking her personal thoughts and fearless queries with evocative abstractions.

Embarking on her North American, a six-city tour with five fellow musicians, Jenny stepped out from behind her art to reveal the artist, a direct, sweet and funny person. Gone was the large intestine feather boa, the miming clowns, couture costumes and computer accompaniment. Jenny’s co-vocalist, percussionist and supplementary keyboard player Jenny Berger Myhre said the band felt somewhat naked playing without all the theatrical trappings and apparently, a large orange tent was abandoned for her stage design due to its musty smell. Instead, Jenny presented her latest album, “Classic Objects,” as an opportunity to connect to her fans on a personal level.

The Weather Station with Helena Deland

As a light snow fell on ice-covered streets, a warm and level-headed The Weather Station provided a safe haven under a steadily heady session of beautiful tunes wrapping thoughtful lyrics inside teasing keyboards, ghostly guitar and subtle percussive touches. In a set list favoring last year’s, “Ignorance,” with a smattering of cuts from the previous two albums, the storm outside and the news of the Russian-Ukrainian conflict proved a suitable backdrop for the band to highlight an album concerned with environmental issues and our responsibility as caretakers. Singer-songwriter and frontperson Tamara Lindeman delivers fascinating compassion with cultivated urgency and she let her strong songs carry her narrative at Madison’s High Noon Saloon with barely a sentence between songs beyond a thanks for wearing masks so she and her bandmates could safely return to their native Canada.

In a flawless hour plus performance, The Weather Station impressed with their creative adventurousness and expressive sentiments, a telepathic galaxy summoned from restless tenets and nurtured worries. Occasionally crouching and frequently pacing between synthesizers, claves and guitar, Tamara’s black suit and tie hid a bright spirit, a firefly lighting moonless skies in formal attire, as her serious subjects betrayed a comforting optimism in their common sense and practical magic keeping the storm outside at bay.