BY ROXANA HADADI

Let it be known: Baltimore hipster bands spoil shows.

Case in point: While singer-songwriter William Elliott Whitmore and band Murder By Death gave pretty much flawless performances at the Ottobar in Baltimore Nov. 8, the band in between their respective sets - J-Roddy Walston and the Business - ruined any chances of a perfect night, instead interjecting nearly an hour of self-described "Southern weirdo rock" that not only seemed wholly out of place but also copped its entire sound from a number of far better bands (see: Elton John, Led Zeppelin, any band influenced by blues- or piano-based rock, etc.).

The night began promisingly with William Elliott Whitmore, the Iowa musician with a penchant for whiskey and his banjo (basically in equal amounts). Friends with Murder By Death, Whitmore has toured with the group for years, and begins all of his concerts with an a cappella version of "Cold and Dead." With a fedora perched on his head and a suit covering his numerous tattoos (still visible, though, were the words "Live Free" inked on the knuckles of each hand), Whitmore's delivery of "And the sun will never shine/ On this cold, dead heart of mine" was an impassioned one that would set the standard for his entire set.

And his breaks for alcohol - after performing "Sometimes Our Dreams Float Like Anchors," Whitmore noticed, "You know, I don't have a beer, what the fuck is that?" leading a member of the crowd to pass him a shot of whiskey and Whitmore's comment of, "If beer is like coffee, whiskey is like espresso" - somehow charmingly played into his image of a voice for the helpless. With "Dry," Whitmore sang, "The crow is callin', and I hear him well/ Up in the red bud tree/ Any of the stories that you've lived to tell/ Pass ‘em down to me" - and then he immediately received both a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon and another shot of whiskey.

The drinks helped move things along, through "Lift My Jug (Song for Cub Hale)," "Diggin' My Grave" and "Pine Box," which was preceded by a fan demanding Whitmore to "take it off!" But "that shit only looks good on paper," Whitmore claimed, and his jacket - which he earlier had realized "smells like weed" - stayed firmly on.

Yet the solid Whitmore contingent - probably about a third of the crowd - didn't seem to mind. They sang-along to "Lee County Flood" and "Porchlight" (which, with lyrics such as "The sweetest labor that my heart has known/ Is the field on which I stand/ ‘Cause every single seed that's been sown/ Was put in the ground by my hand" sounds taken straight out of The Grapes of Wrath), and when it came to his final song, Whitmore fielded requests - to one crowd member who kept yelling for "Sunday Morning," he bemusedly replied, "‘Sunday Morning?'" I don't have a song called ‘Sunday Morning'" - before finally settling on the religion-questioning, emotionally grueling "One Man's Shame." With his eyes shut and his fingers plucking his banjo's strings, there was no way Whitmore could have looked more intense while singing "One man's story is another man's shame/ I ain't bound for glory, I'm bound for flames/ Take to the woods, boy, and cover up your tracks/ Go away, child, and don't look back."

***

But after the enjoyable 40 minutes that was Whitmore's set came an hour from J-Roddy Walston and the Business, whose performance was like being thrust into some kind of bizarre hipster cult ritual. A melding of piano- and blues-influenced rock, the band - who seemed like Rooney, but on crack - couldn't seem to decide what it wanted to be. A Journey-like band for townies, with the fist-pumping "Get Into Me," or a dance-party band, with "Grow Up Grown Up?" Whichever it was, the band's 10-song set was a severe buzzkill.

Yet when Murder By Death took the stage at midnight, all was well again. Before descending into the band's set, lead singer Adam Turla remarked to the crowd, "I'm not gonna lie - I'm pumped to play tonight" - and he proved it. Ripping through 18 songs, the band performed a number from their latest release, Red of Tooth and Claw, 2006's In Bocca al Lupo and the 2003 concept album, Who Will Survive, and What Will Be Left of Them?, all while - just like Whitmore - downing an enviable amount of whiskey.

Turla, cellist Sarah Balliet, bassist Matt Armstrong and drummer Dagan Thogerson started things off with a good amount of tracks from Red of Tooth and Claw, such as "'52 Ford," "Ball & Chain" and "Fuego!" (which Turla described as a song about "being scared and sexually attracted to evil flying women creatures. ... If you don't know that, you don't know love"), then transitioning into Who Will Survive - with a "A Masters in Reverse Psychology," "Until Morale Improves, the Beatings Will Continue" and "The Devil in Mexico."

And though Whitmore (who seemed pretty drunk at this point) didn't join Murder By Death onstage for "Until Morale Improves" - he provides back-up vocals on the album version of the song - the band did him justice with their cover of his "One Man's Shame." Released on a new 7" - the first in a series in which Murder By Death, Whitmore and other artists will cover one another's music - the song was a complex, samba version of Whitmore's disgruntled gem, and fit flawlessly into the band's set.

Things continued to be high-energy for the rest of the set, pausing only briefly for Turla's solo performance of "Shiola" from In Bocca al Lupo (after which Turla commented, "Yay, that song always makes me feel like shit") but resuming for "Brother" (before which Turla argued down a crowd member who claimed "Jail rocks!") and the Red of Tooth and Claw opener, "Comin' Home." And the two-song encore - which stretched the set past the hour-long mark and included "Spring Break 1899," possibly the best song on Red of Tooth and Claw - served as the cherry on top, putting a fitting end to a night that was (for the most part) sweet as sin.

[Photos credit: Adam Fried]