Dead Woman Walking:

Megan Jean and the KFB

and How They Saved the Coffeehouse

by Travis Lakin

for Advanced Composition, ETSU, Spring 2011

Travis Lakin is a senior at East Tennessee State University. He is majoring in English and hopes of one day becoming a magazine columnist. That is, if those dreams of being a space cowboy rock and roll star ever wear thin. He is an avid musician and show-goer as well as a writer. Here is a recount of one of his favorite concert experiences.

Johnson City, Tennessee is a walking kind of city. This may at first sound a little vague and akin to something your grandparents might have said, but it's very plainly the truth. It's laid out in a way that's perfectly conducive to walking almost anywhere you need to go. My friends and I have turned into avid walkers since we came to ETSU and started hunting the downtown area at night for good bands at the small plethora of venues in town. It was on one of these very unassuming walks that we first encountered Megan Jean and the KFB at the Acoustic Coffeehouse on a cold November night last year. It was a night that I might just remember always.

When I first came to Johnson City back in '06, the Acoustic Coffeehouse seemed like a really magical little spot. It had this friendly atmosphere that other places in town lacked. The sheer amount of drunk people looking to screw and/or fight all concentrated into one small room made places like Capone's and Poor Richard's uncomfortable for someone sane like me. The tone of the place was warm and mellow, the beer and coffee were excellent, the people were nice, drunk or not, and the music was usually interesting. Many nights of my freshman and sophomore years of college were spent alone or with friends on the comfy old couches that line its walls under old concert adverts and a giant poster of the Beatles from the cover of the 'Hey Jude' single.

But, as time went on I had fallen a little out of love with the place. The nightly bills were being filled with solo guys singing in high and trembling timbres over barely audible chords – clearly playing up the I'm-indie-and-inherently-better-than-you chic. In time the place became overrun with pretentious hipsters, faux-hemians, and trust-fund rebels, and I had started to grow disillusioned with the scene there. Bands of old blues playing dads, Celtic groups from the bluegrass program at the college, and various other small-time groups from out-of-state were present less and less on the weeknights that I came over. Knowing full well the mediocrity we might be in store for, a few of my friends and I headed out to the coffeehouse one night anyway.

***

What we walked in on when we got there was uncommon and entirely welcomed, even if we didn't understand what we were looking at, at first. There stood a woman - tall, thick, and robust - strumming on an acoustic-electric guitar that looked to have come from a very different time. Her voice was like an angel's trumpet forged in the fires of hell. Her backing band consisted merely of one man with a stand-up bass that seemed a little too large for him. The sound was thunderous and terse, it shook with an old-world charm that seemed oddly fresh at the same time.

The band we were watching that night formed as Megan Jean and the KFB around the year 2006 in Charleston, South Carolina. Consisting only of Megan Jean Glemboski and Byrne Klay, the duo had to that point been on a short touring circuit that stretched from their native Charleston up to New York City with only a few regular stops in-between. Earlier in 2010, they had recorded their first album “Dead Woman Walking” on the own label, Guts and Know How Records. Jean made this known to everyone in the house as she proudly pointed to their modest merchandise table with albums, posters, and shirts spilling out of an antique miniature trunk they seemed to be using to transport it.

The set went on with songs that melded from a fusion of gypsy/carnival/folk/blues that sweated sex appeal and rock and roll as a weird sort of by-product. Her cover of Iggy Pop's “I Wanna Be Your Dog” proved it to anyone in the audience still doubting if this group could rock. With a minimal amount of amplification they raised as much hell as your average teenage quasi-punks around these days. Their indelible charisma alone could have floated this band through a set, or an album, as I would later come to find out, even without the immense musical talent abounding.

Megan Jean was something special; that was clear from the get-go. She was all woman in none of the traditional female artist ways. She didn't come dolled-up to make friends and charm people. She came to make noise with the boys, and she played extra hard to show us she was worth her salt. Her guitar playing was mechanical and forceful, but extremely tasteful and tuneful. Her voice rang up as if coming from the bottom of an unfathomable well. She had a range like only a diva could possess, but she used it with none of the same delicacy and control. This, no doubt, is what made her so incredibly entertaining and her music so passionate and captivating.

Not only did she play the guitar, she made rhythm with a twisted assortment of regular household items. Her cowboy boot-clad feet stomped on a plywood board that was amplified and cranked up to the point that it sounded like a bass drum. A small washboard that hung around her neck had bells and blocks attached to it that she would hit to make noise. The top edge was even adorned with a little hotel lobby bell that added just the right accent to the end of every other measure or so.

It was also quite apparent that Byrne Klay had a curious brew of musical talent as well. He used his full repertoire of musical tricks on his stand-up bass, including bowing the strings for a low droning effect that sounded mournful and haunting. On a good number of songs he broke away from the bass and picked up a banjo. This he used to a brilliant and unconventional effect as he played it through a small and mildly distorted amplifier creating the illusion of a primitive electric guitar. His whole presence, though a little more subdued than Megan's (as if anyone could have matched her potent intensity) was that of the mysterious professional; clad in a dapper blazer and cabbie hat and sporting a thick goatee, one caught a curious hit-man vibe from him as he executed rhythms and melodies with murderous precision.

***

Most of the songs she played were from her new album, Dead Woman Walking. As she revealed more of her songs and more of herself to us, I began to understand what would make her give such a title to her digital tome. She carried herself like a gypsy wild-woman as she weaved tales of everything from cowboys to cannibals and even a little variation on Little Red Riding Hood. Among her best were “Cemetery Man”, “Ain't No Daughter of Mine”, and “Red Red”. They struck an astoundingly perfect balance of fantastical, world-weary depth and high-wire liveliness.

If there was anything more impressive than the music they brought with them it was the attitude that came in tow. After the spell of each song ended and everyone clapped, Megan Jean and Byrne became ordinary folks again. They interacted and joked playfully with the audience in a way that was humbling and endearing. At one point they even put it to a vote to decide which song they would cover next, which is how Iggy Pop's “I Wanna Be Your Dog” came to be played. Like good small time businessmen, they were clearly on a mission to sell folks good music, served with a cunning wink and a wry smile.

***

But, the thing that pleased me most was the new atmosphere the band seemingly created in the coffeehouse. They cast a sort of spell that made the entire place liven up in a way that I hadn't seen in years. The old men at the bar looked up from their beers, the young scenesters put down their cell-phones and books, and, best of all, people actually got up and danced. The very ethos of the music at the coffeehouse had become to try and offer people an alternative for Ambien. They made the Acoustic-Coffeehouse come alive again. They brought it back to its former glory while they were there. This is why the show was so important to me and why I'm writing to let you and all of your friends know about a band that deserves attention and praise.

Fire and ice: Jean and Klay doing what they do best.