POP MUSIC REVIEW : Upbeat Axton Even Finds Joy in ‘Heartbreak’

One of those young British gloom-rock bands that plays to audiences dutifully draped in black might end a concert with “Heartbreak Hotel.”

But what about an easygoing, party-hearty band presided over by Hoyt Axton, a round-bellied, 50-year-old honky tonker with a penchant for joke-telling, yarn-spinning and good-natured needling? They would probably want to finish with something upbeat, like “Joy to the World,” the ebullient hit Axton wrote for Three Dog Night. And that is exactly how Axton’s early show at the Crazy Horse Steak House in Santa Ana appeared to be ending Monday, with bright gospel harmonies and the bandleader playfully shaking a tambourine all over the place and tossing it to one of his backup singers for a final flourish.

Axton told the cheering crowd that he didn’t believe in encores, then gave in and played “Heartbreak Hotel.”

Axton’s rendition was downright cheery, with a chugging, affirmative country train-song beat, a loopy slide guitar solo and singing happy enough to make you want to dance on down to the end of Lonely Street.

And why not? For Axton, “Heartbreak Hotel” has especially fond associations. His mother, Mae Axton, co-wrote it, pitched it to Elvis Presley, and saw it hit No. 1. When Three Dog Night’s recording of Hoyt’s “Joy to the World” reached No. 1 in 1971, the Axtons became the only parent and child to top the pop charts as songwriters.

His mother’s song capped a real family night for Axton. Donna Axton, whom he introduced with backhanded humor as “my latest wife,” played piano. A grown daughter, April, sang some harmonies and carried Axton’s youngest boy on stage for “Joy to the World.” Axton’s storytelling even got one of his two ex-wives into the show, as the butt of some digs woven around a tune about matrimonial non-bliss.

Axton has written songs exploring darker currents, among them “The Pusher,” which Steppenwolf made famous, and another anti-drug song, “Snowblind Friend,” about Axton’s own long bout with cocaine addiction.

But Axton’s 80-minute set leaned toward light, rollicking tunes and jokes and quips that he inserted between almost every song. Among the few exceptions to jovial material were “Cowboys on Horses With Wings,” a waltzing homage to the artistic daydreamers who write stories and songs, and “Evangelina,” a pretty, Mexican-flavored lament that Axton played on request.

While Axton’s humor set a mood that was pleasantly loose, his banter sometimes caused the show to wind down, especially at a couple of junctures when he shared laughs with the band but not the audience. The pace didn’t pick up until the set was almost over.

Axton was an engaging, unself-conscious host, and it wasn’t hard to bear with him. The music only dragged when band member Michael Curtis sang a mediocre version of “Southern Cross,” a Crosby, Stills & Nash hit that he co-wrote. Backup singers Diana Hanna and Janna Lee Dare were sharp and sassy when they each took a turn at fronting the band. The smooth backing parts that they and Curtis provided made for a well-conceived contrast to Axton’s deep, gravelly delivery.

Axton’s band didn’t have knockout power, but it carried a better-than-adequate punch when it came time to rock a little--notably on “Never Been to Spain,” which featured some of Axton’s best belting, and the memorably boisterous reworking of “Heartbreak Hotel.” Dennis Fetchet played understated but accomplished fiddle, while guitarist Hank Barrio capably handled the flashier solos.

“I hope you enjoyed it--we gave it our best shot,” Axton told the audience near the end. The comment, like the closing song selection, was a little odd: very little in Axton’s casually organized show seemed to spring from the teeth-gritting effort associated with taking a “best shot.” The only apparent aim he and his band had was to enjoy themselves, and that led to a pretty good time for everybody.