The first song The Bargain played in their set at Best Video Thursday was “a pandemic song,” said singer Frank Critelli. But it was a pandemic song with perspective; it was about how even now, there was still time to work on yourself.
It was the beginning of a set of original songs from The Bargain — Frank Critelli, Shandy Lawson, and Muddy Rivers — that showed the band as a group of artists already responding to the immediacy of the moment, but with their eyes on the bigger picture and what it all might come to mean. It was also warm, humane, and a lot of fun.
“Welcome to Best Video Music on the Deck — safe and socially distanced,” said Hank Hoffman, Best Video’s executive director, before the show began. He encouraged the eager audience of about 20 to enjoy themselves. He reminded them also that Best Video had a fundraiser coming up soon, that everyone needed to keep their masks on, and that if they enjoyed the music, they should reward the band by putting “big-denomination bills” in the tip jar.
The Bargain began without further ado. A collaborative songwriting project between Critelli, Lawson, and Rivers, The Bargain seems to bring out the best in each of its members. The three musicians are each accomplished songwriters in their own right, and together have written a set of very strong material that has the sound of stuff that’s more than the sum of its parts. Musically, it also showcases Critelli’s direct, emotive singing, Rivers’s driving yet ornate guitar work, and Lawsom’s atmospheric mandolin and guitar that create even more room for the songs to breathe. With some light percussion provided by Critelli, the band’s sound is accessible and textured, spacious and intimate at the same time. It overflows with the friendship the three musicians clearly share.
Critelli’s between-song patter also revealed that the musicians’ collaboration has continued through the pandemic. Their second song was in response to an NPR segment about how long people are remembered after they die; the members of the Bargain humbly submitted that one’s memory could last much more than a lifetime.
The musicians also seemed to revel in playing together before an audience. “Can I talk for a minute? I have a lot on my mind,” Critelli said. He said, with a wink, that he had just learned all over again how much he liked to hear people clapping at the end of every song. “It makes me weird,” he said. “I’m a weird fellow. But it feels so nice.” When a car beeped as it passed by on Whitney Avenue, Critelli turned and raised his hands in the air, shouting, “Thank you! Thank you, Hamden!” The audience laughed.
With that, a bond was formed between musicians and audience that made the show feel that much more like a gathering. One song riffed on the idea of jamais vu — somewhat the opposite of deja vu, referring to a situation in which something seems novel despite actually being quite familiar. When the band finished the song, an audience member piped up.
“That guy is French,” he said, pointing to another audience member, “and he says you’re pronouncing it wrong.” Critelli asked him how to pronounce it and the man said it aloud. “Oh, screw me,” said Critelli. The audience laughed again. The set continued with a song about the death of songwriter and humanitarian Harry Chapin that almost sounded like a lost Harry Chapin song.
As the set continued, the songs became more complex and charming, and Critelli’s introductions painted a portrait of the three musicians as people who come up with songs in each other’s company pretty easily, fueled by the pleasure of working together.
“It was just flying around in the air and we lassoed it and brought it down to the kitchen table,” Critelli said of one song. “That ever happen to you?” Another song, he said, “just fell out,” taking “five minutes to write.”
The songs continued about John and Yoko Ono, with Critelli expressing admiration and sympathy for Yoko; about a band trip to Beacon, N.Y., where they climbed a nearby mountain. The song happened to be a year old, to the day.
Critelli expressed his gratitude once again at being able to play. “Pretty soon the weather’s going to be wicked cold and we’re not going to be able to do this anymore,” he said.
“Fire pits! Hot water bottles and fire pits!” an audience member said. “Human sacrifices!” said another. Band and audience laughed. “That would be a unique element to our show that’s been sorely missing,” Lawson deadpanned.
Another song, “West Coast Time,” Critelli dedicated to the people going through so much hardship in the West due to wildfires; the haze in the air overhead was an unsubtle reminder. The song was written a while ago but it worked, in its yearning for some better, more peaceful time. “The sun sets differently / It never quite disappears / Do you know what I mean? Do you know what I mean?” Critelli sang.
Each band member got a chance to play two of their own songs before the Bargain returned to finish out the set.
“We’re going to do a couple more and then bid you a fond good night,” Critelli said, as the sky darkened. “Is that all right with you?”
“No!” said one audience member.
“We don’t want to go home,” said another.
The members of the Bargain played their last number by unplugging their instruments and stepping out in front of the audience. There was still social distancing to consider, the constraints of the pandemic. But it did let band and audience get just a little closer.