Show Review: Jake La Botz at Icehouse
Recent Minnesota transplant Jake La Botz stunned the audience (including Carol) with his electrifying double set at Icehouse.
Jake La Botz at Icehouse. Photo credit: Tom Smouse, 2021.
All concert photos by Tom Smouse, 2021.
So the guy I just saw at Icehouse in Minneapolis grew up in Chicago honing his musical chops with pre-war blues men, lived in New Orleans, spent time in Hollywood playing tough guys and/or bad guys in a shit ton of movies, then moved to southern Minnesota during the pandemic. With me so far? The weird thing is, I was captivated by Jake La Botz before I knew anything about his unique backstory. So before I review this show, let me tell you how I found out about this fascinating yet kinda under-the-radar artist.
Jake La Botz at Icehouse. Photo credit: Tom Smouse, 2021.
The Discovery
Jake La Botz has been on my radar since early 2019, when he played a weeknight show at the Turf Club in Saint Paul. My buddy Dan had scored free tickets, so I listened to one song on YouTube, “How I Wish She Was Mine.” I was intrigued enough to want to check him out. There was something unique about La Botz’s gravelly yet emotive voice, his genre-bending blues-rock-country-rockabilly sound, and the clever way his lyrics twisted around—for instance, wringing three meanings out of four simple words: “That man don’t believe / don’t believe that man / I don’t believe she’s gonna leave that man.”
The Turf Club was as sparsely populated that night as I’ve ever seen it. After Erik Koskinen’s strong opening set to a nearly empty room, a few more audience members trickled in and La Botz took the stage. With his simple dark clothing, dark hair slicked back in a style that references the 1940s and 50s without screaming retro, and an acoustic guitar, he sat down with a little smile and started to play.
If he was bothered by the quiet room he didn’t show it. That self-possession is something I’ve noticed ever since. I was instantly drawn to his music, but unfortunately Dan and I had tickets to another free show, so we couldn’t stay for more than a couple tunes. Although the other act we saw that night was also stellar, I had lingering regrets about leaving—especially when he didn’t come around again that year, nor in early 2020...and then the pandemic shut everything down for another year-plus.
Post-Lockdown Reappearance
Jake La Botz and band at Icehouse.
Photo credit: Tom Smouse, 2021.
So I was overjoyed to see La Botz’s name pop up in the list of summer 2021 outdoor shows the Hook and Ladder Theater & Lounge was putting on. This time La Botz opened for Koskinen (I discovered that they’ve been friends for years and tend to take turns) and took the stage with a full band. Unfortunately, the crowd—no doubt overjoyed to be able to leave the house—was drunk and loudly chatty, especially the row behind us, so I didn’t get as close a listen as I would’ve liked. But I loved what I did hear, including a blues-rock rendition of “My Bucket’s Got a Hole in It.” I missed some of his stage patter as well, but I did catch that he’d moved to Minnesota during the pandemic and that he’d be playing two shows at Icehouse. I quickly snapped up tickets to both. Finally I was going to see him properly.
The first Icehouse show was a brunchtime outdoor solo show. Fearful of another drunk talkative crowd, I arrived early and claimed a table at the very front. Nothing was going to get in my way this time! For over two hours I got to soak in his expert fingerpicking as he played a mix of old covers and originals, and I began to appreciate the full genius of his lyrics. (I’d still never listened to his albums at that point—for some reason I was determined to experience him live first.) I also started to learn his history as he shared an anecdote or two about learning from old blues men in his native Chicago. The friend I brought also provided more backstory—I knew La Botz had lived in L.A. but had no idea he’d been in dozens of movies since 2000.
The pieces started to fall into place for me—how the blues elements in his songs sounded so authentic without being literal or traditional, the way he captivates when he talks, without being loud or dramatic. I’d been struggling to describe to myself how his whole persona feels so easy yet artful—a conscious or unconscious pastiche of aesthetics and influences—without seeming contrived or theatrical. Now I have the term: “cinematic.” He seems quite genuine and comfortable in his own skin, but I think his time in Hollywood has also given him a flair, a way of enhancing his vibe, perfecting his look and onstage persona.
I was hooked. I bought his latest album, They’re Coming for Me, that day, and listened to it a few more times while I impatiently anticipated the second Icehouse show.
The Show
Jake La Botz and band at Icehouse.
Photo credit: Tom Smouse, 2021.
This time he brought the full band and played an evening show indoors, and I was happy to see a full house that was also attentive and appreciative—the perfect balance. La Botz took the stage in his trademark button-down and dark pants and an electric guitar this time, accompanied by a bassist and drummer.
I wish I’d taken notes on the setlist, but honestly, even though I knew I’d be writing about it, I was there as a fan first, journalist second. For another two-hour, two-set show (I’m kind of loving these no-opener gigs that have cropped up since lockdown ended!), I just sat completely captivated, wondering how I was ever going to sum up everything I like about this one-of-a-kind performer.
The most immediately disarming thing about him is the contrast between his simple, almost spare look and demeanor, which quickly contrasts with a genuinely offbeat, even goofy, sense of humor. At least half his songs have a humorous twist, and some of them are outright silly and weird—he’s written tunes about Bigfoot, inflatable ducks and over-the-top paranoia—but smart, packed with laser-sharp lyrics that skewer the shallow, wasteful, fame-obsessed aspects of our modern world. His stage patter is equally disarming—before launching into an impassioned song about a magical comb, he shared an anecdote (possibly true, but who knows?) about making combs as part of his merch line that weren’t moving—until he started performing this song. Whether or not he actually wrote “This Comb” simply to tout a product, it’s a hilarious story and song.
He also has some straight-up sad, contemplative songs, and his lyrics can pack an emotional punch in a few words just as easily as they can make you laugh out loud. The opening lines of “Without the Weight” are almost viscerally regretful and vivid enough to paint a mental picture: “By the bed an ashtray black and red / Full of half burnt things we said / The dead don’t stay dead long…” The lush, moody reverb of the guitar and La Botz’s weathered voice, toned way down from its full belting-and-blues-screaming potential, carry the listener along on an enjoyably bittersweet journey.
But my current favorite songs are the ones that ride the line between silly and sad. In both Icehouse shows and on the album, “The Bankrobber’s Lament” is an absolute standout. He elicits chuckles when he introduces it as a story about a Jesus-loving bankrobber, and it is a funny concept executed in a bouncy, breezy way, but it’s also weirdly emotionally affecting—the narrator shows flashes of humanity throughout that make you regret his bloody end.
And the lyrics are a master class in the skillful bending of words and imagery to mean several things at once. The themes of bank robbery, carpentry and crucifixion weave in and out of the song, punctuated by the refrain “And I thought about Jesus, about Jesus,” so when the chorus comes in—“I’ve been working on a building / Though I know it ain’t yet right”—the building in question seems to simultaneously mean a literal structure, the narrator’s soul, and the bank he’s been casing. This subtlety contrasts with occasional humorously overwrought cinematic (there’s that word again) moments—I could see Nic Cage enacting the last scene, drawing a cross on the floor of the bank in his own blood. All of this culminates in a final product of a song I struggle to describe, but cannot stop humming to save my life.
Jake La Botz They’re Coming for Me album artwork
You can experience these songs on his stellar albums, but I highly suggest you see La Botz live if you can manage it. For one thing, his aesthetics and stage patter enrich his music even more (finally, at this fourth show I’ve seen of his, he shared a Hollywood anecdote, about singing to Sylvester Stallone on the set of 2008’s Rambo and the songs making it into the movie itself). He’s also one of those performers who enunciates clearly, so you don’t have to wait to get home and pull up the lyrics to enjoy the twisty, silly, dark, vivid ride he’s taking you on. And the man knows how to put together a setlist—an intermission in a long show is a dangerous time when some of the audience energy disperses and people may start to disengage, but La Botz’s second Icehouse set opened with a couple of high-energy songs and then varied in pace and tone—fast and slow, silly and sad—so there was never a chance to get tired or bored.
I’m still pinching myself that this unique, electrifying iconoclast of an entertainer has chosen Minnesota as his home, at least for the time being. From his website it looks like he’s leaving us for a few tours around the country, but now I feel a bit more confident that he’ll come back. Wherever you live, I strongly encourage you to buy tickets to the nearest upcoming show and get there early so you can get a good spot and fully appreciate the complex gifts he has to offer.
Jake La Botz and band at Icehouse.
Carol Roth. Photo credit: Dan Lee.
Carol Roth is a full-time marketing copywriter and the main music journalist and social media publicist for Adventures in Americana. In addition to studying the guitar and songwriting, Carol’s additional creative side hustle is writing self-proclaimed “trashy” novels under the pseudonym @taberkeley!
