SWEET AND SOUR : Poi Dog Pondering and the Mekons Serve Up Two Sides to One Existence

A case can be made that William Blake, the British poet and painter who died some 130 years before Elvis became a star, was the great, great, great uncle of rock ‘n’ roll.

In “Songs of Innocence,” from 1789, and “Songs of Experience,” from 1794, Blake forged, as the Encyclopedia Britannica puts it, “a new, simple and emotionally direct mode of thought” that stands as a precursor to the rock ‘n’ roll method and the rock ‘n’ roll attitude. Blake drew material for his songs from the streets and fields, celebrated the sexual and the spiritual, infused his verse with bristling, energetic rhythms, and took a radical, rebellious stance against the artistic conventions and social and political powers of his day--all of which left him unknown and virtually unread during his lifetime.

For Blake, innocence and experience are the two governing principals of the human character. The innocent live in a state of joyful optimism and faith in human good. The experienced carry the weight of life’s harder realities, the agonies, sorrows and injustices by which humanity is bound. To Blake, the mature, developed soul is one that can comprehend and encompass each of these contradictory states.

This week, some Blakeian rock ‘n’ roll will be on tap at Bogart’s. The Mekons, who headline Thursday, Nov. 14, sing bitter but defiant songs about mucking about in a fallen world that’s all-too-experienced. Poi Dog Pondering arrives on Saturday with all the sunny exuberance and transcendent optimism of the state of innocence.

Since they were launched in Leeds, England, in 1978, the Mekons have been rock ‘n’ roll guerrillas trying to heave musical Molotov cocktails at what they see as the corrupt, intellectually deadening order of the Thatcher/Reagan/Bush years. Founding members Jon Langford and Tom Greenhalgh rail bitterly, but often wittily, at what they see as the squelching of thought before a mindless consumer drive.

There’s a sour current of defeat running through the Mekons’ repertoire: They know they are gadflies, not revolutionaries, and that their songs aren’t going to overturn the order they revile. Depicting themselves--again, with humor--as broken down, disreputable outcasts, the Mekons nevertheless take pride in staying sufficiently alert to recognize corruption and mindlessness, and sufficiently motivated to stand against it, however ineffective their stand may be in real terms.

All the ingredients for dourness are there, but the four core Mekons--singer-guitarists Langford and Greenhalgh, singer Sally Timms and fiddler Susie Honeyman--are able to rollick while they gripe. Since the mid-’80s, the Mekons have been exploring folk and country roots while keeping a rough, punk-spirited edge in the mix. Timms has emerged as an impressive ballad singer capable of dignified melancholy.

When the Mekons got a shot at major label status in 1989, they put out a blazing rock album, “The Mekons Rock ‘n’ Roll,” that portrayed big-time rock as a hollow commodity far removed from artistic ideals. The album didn’t turn into a hot enough commodity to satisfy the Mekons’ label, A&M;, and they were dropped. Their latest album, “The Curse of the Mekons,” is available only as an import, but it finds the band carrying on without any loss of imagination or bite--nor with any gain in optimism.

Poi Dog Pondering is not so naive that it would paint a rosy vision of the world of power and barter in which the Mekons are immersed. But instead of dwelling in that world, the Austin, Tex., band usually seeks to transcend it and tap into a different one full of innocence and wonder.

Frank Orrall, the band’s singer and main songwriter, likes to sing of such simple pleasures as slowing the pace of life by taking a walk or enjoying a lover’s touch. There also is a joyful spiritual current running through the band’s songs. In “Bury Me Deep,” Orrall gladly embraces the idea of dying and moldering in the grave--the song argues that it’s a way of mingling fully in the natural cycle of life.

Not all is sweetness in Poi Dog’s world: “Fruitless” finds Orrall confronting disappointment and listlessness but vowing ultimately to soldier on. “I have faith in how things seem to start again,” he sings, clinging to his optimism.

Poi Dog’s enthusiasm comes across in vibrant, acoustic-based music that draws on a hybrid of styles (the band takes its name from a Hawaiian slang term for “mixed breed”). The band has shown an equally sure hand with percolating West African rhythms punctuated by trumpet flourishes, and with folk-based, violin-driven music that can recall the lilt of Van Morrison’s “Astral Weeks” album or Rod Stewart’s “Maggie May” period. While Poi Dog favors acoustic textures, it also has shown a knack for psychedelic electric rock.

Orrall and guitarist Ted Cho started the band in Hawaii, then moved to the fruitful Texas scene where the current eight-member Poi Dog Pondering came together. Poi Dog has released two albums and an EP for Columbia Records; a second EP, “Jack Ass Ginger,” has just been released, to be followed early next year by a third album, “Volo Volo.”

Who: The Mekons and Poi Dog Pondering.

When: Mekons on Thursday, Nov. 14, at 9:30 p.m. with Spot 1019 and Rodeo Blue. Poi Dog Pondering on Saturday, Nov. 16, at 9:30 p.m. with Giant Sand and Pagan Babies.

Where: Bogart’s, 6288 E. Pacific Coast Highway, Long Beach.

Whereabouts: Take the San Diego (405) Freeway to the Seal Beach Boulevard exit; go west, then right on Westminster Avenue and right again on Pacific Coast Highway. Bogart’s is just past the intersection of Westminster and PCH, on the left.

Wherewithal: $10 for the Mekons, $12 for Poi Dog Pondering.

Where to call: (310) 594-8975.