Review: Evan Dando at The Grey Eagle

I was plenty excited to pencil the Evan Dando solo show at The Grey Eagle in early February into my calendar. I noted the date and the month, but may not have paid enough attention to the year: 2024, not 1994. 

Back then, Dando was the darling of the alternative rock scene as the alluring frontman for The Lemonheads. They had caught the attention of the college radio crowd with their grungey renditions of Suzanne Vega’s “Luka” and Simon & Garfunkel’s “Mrs. Robinson.” Then they proved they were much more than a cover band with their enduring 1992 release, It’s a Shame About Ray, which featured a lineup that included Juliana Hatfield (whom Dando brought over from his brief stint with Blake Babies), and included multiple enjoyable originals like “Bit Part,” “Alison’s Starting To Happen,” as well as the title track. 

Their popular follow-up 1993 release, Come on Feel the Lemonheads (Hatfield’s last with the group), had Dando feeling like a full-on rock star, doing duets with Belinda Carlisle and Rick James, popping up in paparazzi shots with the likes of Kate Moss and Johnny Depp, and even being named one of People’s 50 Most Beautiful People of 1993. As he said in an article that appeared in that issue, “I wouldn’t want to be anyone else.”

My first signifier that that was then and this is now was when I walked into the Grey Eagle on that Friday night and found myself at a fully seated show. Wait, how could that be? Seated shows are for stand-up comics and older crowds that need to sit down. And then it dawned on me: We’re not in ‘94 anymore, Toto.

I defiantly decided to stand while my fellow attendees, many roughly the same age as me and the main attraction, seemed content with their choice to sit. They had all already leaned into the idea that this was more of a listening show than a let-loose show. So, I stood while they sat and listened to the talented opening act, Willy Mason, a mostly mellow singer songwriter from Marha’s Vineyard who just stood and strummed his guitar while laying out lyrics that left lasting images. 

And that seemed enough for him, enough for them. Even though he is more than a decade and a half younger than Dando, Mason’s acquired acoustic sound reminded me of Mark Knopfler and Ry Cooder, men in their mid-70s. These were real pretty songs played simply — I just couldn’t figure out what they were doing on the undercard of Evan Dando, my iconic ’90s rock ‘n roll rebel.

No matter. Here came the headliner to kick things up a notch. Except Dando did not take the stage with his signature swagger, instead employing a modest stride and a wry smile. He was not dressed like a rockstar, more like a lifer playing a beachside bar in faded jeans, black floral buttoned shirt with large white whatevers, and long hair hanging over his unshaven face. He looked like a slightly disheveled Jesus, or if Lord of the Rings-era Viggo Mortensen had let himself go a little.

Up to that moment, I may have been in denial, but it made sense. Living the rock ‘n roll dream for more than three decades can take its toll on even the toughest artists. It’s long been known that Dando has battled substance abuse, eventually cleaning up some, but never quitting. Like he sang in their song, “Style” (off Come on Feel the Lemonheads), “I don’t wanna get high / but I don’t wanna not get high.”  

He’d been kicked off tours for bad behavior. He’d had contentious relationships with many of the musicians he’d worked with, The Lemonheads had more than 40 members over the years, with Dando being the only constant.

Reversing his position from the People magazine profile, in a 1996 New York Times article, Dando quoted Bob Dylan when he stated, “I’m glad I’m not me.”

So, I shouldn't have been surprised if Dando did not have much to offer at this point. He stood there, his guitar slung over his shoulders, and took a second to soak in the warm response. He sincerely thanked his audience for being there, and then he began.

It may not have been everything we once expected from Evan Dando, but it was him: His evocative vocals, his playful guitar strumming style, his somewhat dialed-down but still undeniable charm. And his way of serving up a song that always made The Lemonheds worth listening to, whoever else was in the band at the time.

It was all there on newer songs like “Fear of Living” (The Lemonheads’ 2023 single). It was all there on songs from those nostalgic albums from the ’90s. A handful from Come on Feel like “Being Around,” "Down About It,” "The Great Big No,” and the big hit off that album, “Into My Arms.” And of course some choice cuts off their classic, It’s a Shame About Ray, including “Confetti,” "My Drug Buddy,” “Rudderless,” and “Frank Mills” (a Galt MacDermot cover).

And it was certainly all there on the other cool covers Dando did with distinction, the format that first got The Lemonheads listed on the charts. He opened with a reserved version of Smudge’s “The Outdoor Type” that nicely set the tone for the set. He perfectly paired his vocal chords with the chords of his acoustic guitar on Florida Georgia Line's "Round Here.” 

But it was his cover of Lucinda Williams’ “Side of the Road” as one of his final songs that floored me. Williams is one of my favorite artists and that song is a beautiful bit of writing about needing a little space to know oneself. I don’t know if ’90s Evan Dando could have done that song justice the way he did that night. I think it helps to be a bit broken and be OK with it to convey the vulnerability that is voiced in that song. He made that song his own as he had done with so many others.

So, yes, Dando has been up, down, and around over the last few decades, and that may not necessarily be a bad thing. He broke a string on his guitar a few songs in and, even though he had another fully strung guitar sitting right there, he chose to save that for later for the songs it was best suited for. So instead, he found a way on the fly to retune the remaining five strings to support the stretch of songs still to be played before the instrument switch. He knows what he’s doing up there, even if it is not always the way that others might want him to do it.

If I’m correct, I clocked his set at just under an hour. Many of his songs, and the songs he chose to cover, are short and sweet, or brief and dark, so while the set time was short, the set list did not seem to be. 

Do I wish I had seen The Lemonheads in their heyday, 30 years ago? Definitely. Do I wish that Dando had played longer when I saw him live here in Asheville? Perhaps. But that one-hour set is where he’s at and I’m good with that. 

Neil Young asked if it’s better to burn out than fade away. Dando may have singed some of his edges and may not shine quite as bright, but he’s still touring (solo or with fellow Lemonheads), still playing, still singing those indelible indie rock songs like only he can. No shame in that game whatsoever.

(Photos courtesy of the artist)