The Dutchess and the Duke Entertainment Art The Empty Bottle Chicago, Ill. December 5, 2009

I took a long look at the chubby bearded fellow with wayfarer glasses sitting at the merchandise table. This was my chance to share a few casual words with who I thought was Jesse Lortz, lead singer of The Dutchess and the Duke; but I had to make sure it was him first, since The Empty Bottle was filled with dozens of hipsters matching that description. He was talking with someone, so I used the time to look back and fourth between his photo on a promo CD and the similar-looking guy in front of me.

Yes, it’s him, I concluded-here goes. Me: “So this guy produced your album?” I asked, pointing to a Greg Ashley cover on the table. Lortz: “Yep…yep, produced it.” Me (extremely sarcastically, obviously looking to start a conversation): “So can you tell me about your band? I’m supposed to cover you guys tonight.” Lortz “Uh…you’ll see.” Me: “Kind of bluesy, dreamy 60’s rock?” Lortz: “Kind of…you should have done your research. You tell me, isn’t that your job?” Me: “I did some, but haven’t heard you before. Don’t worry; I’ll research some more before writing about you.” Sensing he wasn’t up for a conversation, I told him to have a good show and went to listen to Greg Ashley, the producer of the Seattle duet’s latest and second full-length, Sunset/Sunrise (Hardly Art), open the show with slowly-unfolding guitar solos and sad songs.

This was a great prequel to The Dutchess and Duke’s sound, which is dreamy yet deliberate, with a western twang. The Empty Bottle was packed to the brim, and the kind of music that came from the quintet on stage, comprising Lortz and Kimberly Morrison on guitars and vocals, (the Duke and Dutchess, respectively) a keyboard player, a bassist, and a percussionist with single drum and tambourine, plus violinist Andra Kulans of the local 1900s sounded like the Oregon Trail chronicling of someone who isn’t much into banter. The music spoke instead; gently, like a captivating fog. And the message was clear. Many in the audience swayed with closed eyes to the intimate waves of “The River” and “Living This Life Makes It Hard”. The first one had lyrics, “I went out to the desert, I laid right down and died. Wolves were near my fingers, and the vultures were coming for my life.” These campfire-worthy songs were the flip side to the woodsy revelry of “Let It Die”.

The core duo spent the night in a wide sonic range. Rolling Stones revivalists (“Reservoir Park”), run-down rockers (the beautiful “Hands”), and Johnny Cash copycats are all apt terms for separate bits and pieces of their performance. But while one would be right feeling a sense of déjà vu upon hearing them the first time, the royal clan makes these adopted elements sound strikingly fresh at times, such as on “Sunrise/Sunset”, which combines them with a 60s spirit that pops up in so many indie acts of today (Beach House does it best and most authentically). You could practically see the reddish-yellow afternoon sun against the faded flower-pattern wallpaper here; it’s a song that truly transports you.

There was a good amount of these moments at the show, and the ending number came as a bit of a surprise because of this. “Out of Time”, while achieving a perky level of good humor and happiness on stage and in crowd (helped with the keyboardist holding up queue cards to the lyrics), seemed like a jolt following the mournful tunes just preceding it. The lyrics were despondent enough: “I’m so sick of hearing things are going to work out. I’m so sick of hearing things are gonna be alright.” But the atmosphere was downright joyous. In this way, The Dutchess and the Duke ride the line between authentic and aping, downtrodden and buoyant. You get the feeling the truth lies somewhere in the middle, but the songs don’t sound less warm because of it.

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