Guitar virtuoso Tim Reynolds could have signed with a major record label. Reynolds, a long-time friend of Dave Matthews, could have joined the Dave Matthews Band. Many DMB fans might wonder why Reynolds would trade his ticket of fame and fortune for a solo tour in the small bars and theaters of America, but those attending his performance Friday evening at WOW Hall may have understood.
Taking away the band, set and lyrics, Reynolds gave the audience of all ages his most personal form of self-expression: electronic wizardry and the intricate rhythms of his guitar.
“He didn’t have to sing. He spoke through his guitar,” said concert-goer Jesse Williams.
Reynolds waited until after his first song to welcome the crowd, which showed that his music, rather than his stage presence, was the entertainment.
With his soft, scratchy voice, Reynolds also showed his playful side. He spoke with an accent, but it was hard to tell if this was a product of his diverse background or his sense of humor.
University student Ali Himes-Ferris said she thought the German-born musician was having fun.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he was feigning an accent for kicks,” she said.
After a round of applause, he told the sold-out crowd, “Spank you very much.” And he later told them about the genitals of the rubber alien taped to his microphone.
Reynolds, wearing a gray Coca-Cola tank top, jeans and silver and orange sunglasses, said few words throughout the night, but what he did say was revealing.
“The system is controlling the masses and keeping them stupid,” Reynolds said. Thus, the creator of six CDs set the stage for a performance about individuality and versatility.
Because he wasn’t limited by other band members, he experimented and improvised his repertoire. In a song he called “Congo Masturbators,” the audience heard bongo drums, shakers, heavy industrial sounds and an acoustic guitar. In other songs he brought out 12-string electric and acoustic guitars, thumping bass, stomps, riff changes, new-age echoes and dark, ominous sounds.
Reynolds’ onstage behavior might have confused fans at first. He would record a track, repeat it with his equipment, switch guitars, record another track and switch guitars again to produce a full song. But soon, it became clear that with just four guitars, some electronic equipment and some unusual activity, Reynolds could produce the sounds of three guitarists and a drummer. In effect, he was a one-man band.
For most of the night, the focused crowd stared in awe as Reynolds’ fingers flew over the strings in fast-forward mode. At times, his fingers seemed invisible and surreal.
Because Reynolds could tune his guitar while the equipment played his previous melody, Himes-Ferris said she thought he had perfect pitch. She also said the reach of his left hand was “amazing” and his right hand’s picking was “precise.” She said she felt like she was watching a virtuoso.
Despite Reynolds unique style and technical mastery, some of his long, harmonious rhythms started to lull the audience to sleep.
Observing the audience’s fading attention, Williams said, “You can only take so much guitar.”
Himes-Ferris said she was frustrated by the constant murmur she heard in the small, intimate hall.
To her, the concert seemed like a clash between the quiet, respectful world of classical music and the brash concert halls of rock.
“I felt like he was playing at a recital, and you don’t talk at a classical recital,” she said. “You just sit quietly and listen.”
Surprisingly, Reynolds left the stage on a quiet note, but he returned after a round of applause. Carrying roses in his teeth and wiping sweat off his forehead, Reynolds picked up a guitar again to play an energizing Spanish tune mixed with “X-Files” sounds.
Senior journalism major Dan Hendricks observed, “He’s one of music’s best kept secrets.”