O.C. POP MUSIC REVIEW : A Rich, Vibrant Late-Night Show With Phil Alvin

Phil Alvin’s show at Bogart’s Saturday was offhanded but rich. Starting well after midnight, it was the sort of thing veteran musicians might play if they weren’t performing but just tossing songs around in a basement session for the pure enjoyment of it.

It had been advertised as a solo concert, but Alvin brought along three buddies, including John Bazz and Greg Hormel, bassist and guitarist from his band the Blasters, to back him up after an introductory solo-acoustic bit.

The Blasters’ situation is unsettled these days. Drummer Bill Bateman has been playing with another roots band, the Red Devils (Dave Carroll was the drummer at Bogart’s, banging out beats with a loose but apt trash-can smash).

Greg Lewerke, the Blasters’ manager, said last week that the group has an album in progress--but that’s something we’ve heard before in the seven years since the last Blasters release, “Hard Line.”

It was after “Hard Line” that Dave Alvin, Phil’s younger brother, left the band, taking with him his admirable gift for songwriting-as-storytelling.

Most Blasters fans probably wish that Dave and Phil (who lately have played occasional duo shows as the Alvin Brothers) would team up again full time. Phil has a rich, resonant, supremely confident voice but apparently has had trouble mustering new material to sing (his own last album was in 1986, and that was of old folk blues and gospel tunes); Dave has continued to write fine songs, as his albums “Romeo’s Escape” and “Blue Blvd.” attest. But those albums made it apparent that Dave is no great vocal talent.

Still, an Everyman’s voice can work well with the kind of storytelling that most often engages Dave Alvin. With a less-commanding singer, the song itself can take precedence, which is important if you’re telling a closely drawn tale.

Phil’s robust vocals tend to take songs out of the storyteller’s intimate circle and make them larger than life. That’s one reason he is so good with old songs that require a powerful voice to shake the dust off them and make them feel immediate once more.

The sheer lung power he brings to a performance--and the way he contorts his face between almost every verse in his trademark grinning-skull grimace--makes you feel, even before you’ve had time to actually think about it, that something powerful must be embedded in the musty tunes that dominated his set, that songs from the folk-blues canon are anything but old curiosities from a bygone era.

Take “Samson and Delilah,” a retelling of the biblical story. The shattering force with which Alvin brought to life Samson’s resentment and betrayal made you realize the song isn’t an ancient myth, but a living one. When Alvin sang the refrain, “if I had my way, I would tear this building down,” it made you think not only about a Bible character but about how being thwarted and cheated can make a person want to lash out in destructive fury. That traditional song might be an artifact handed down over decades, but it has something to say about the motivations behind the Los Angeles riot.

Alvin’s reading of the New Orleans R&B; chestnut “Junco Partner” suggested that some themes are best couched in the past because they’re too painful to speak of in the present tense. The song is the sob-story of a junkie who goes around “knocked-out loaded,” but it is told with a sardonic humor that verges on merriment--a tone suggesting that you can find comedy in anything, or maybe that some dire themes need to be approached through a softening lens of humor. It’s doubtful a contemporary song entitled “Crack Partner” could manage to talk about down-and-out desperation with much humor.

Alvin said nothing about how these songs from the blues tradition might inform the present, but he didn’t need to. The vibrancy and fullness of his singing prompted the connection.

The expanding definition of country music could work in favor of James Intveld, who was billed second on the program.

The ex-Garden Grove resident (now based in Los Angeles) is a solid if unsigned and under-appreciated roots-rock talent. After taking several years off to concentrate on building an acting career (he said before the show that he can be seen as a bad guy in the Dec. 28 episode of the Fox series “FBI: The Untold Stories”), he returned to regular live rocking just last week. His 80-minute set at Bogart’s was only the second of his musical comeback, but he and his band of L.A. roots-rock aces sounded sharp and in sync.

D.J. Bonebrake, best known as a member of X, was impressive as usual on drums, forceful as well as attentive to detail. Rick Solem wielded a full and stylish palette of rootsy keyboard styles.

Intveld may not have the sort of distinctive voice that you could pick out instantly from a pack of qualified rock ‘n’ roll pros, but it’s tuneful and strong. He complemented it with tasteful, fluid guitar playing. And he didn’t have to put on an attitude; instead, he commanded the stage with dips and whirls and other body English that seemed to flow naturally from the music. While he favors that James Dean slicked-back ‘50s look, he wasn’t one to play the moody brooder. Between songs, he displayed a winning, aw-shucks niceness.

That could endear him to country fans. And, in the age of Garth Brooks, country fans are clearly more inclined to give a fair hearing to music that incorporates lots of rock elements. Intveld’s set covered all bases, from a stylized Jerry Lee Lewis tribute, to the rolling Bo Diddley beat of “That’s Me,” to Ray Charles-inspired R&B; balladry, to songs like “Lonely Night” and “Can’t Love,” catchy, mainstream-slanted rockers akin to something Bob Seger might sing.

With a new ballad, “Wild Places,” Intveld may have come up with a good point of entry for country fans, who might be enticed by its combination of smoldering romanticism and gentle, South-of-the-Border rhythmic sway.

The Blue Bonnets opened the show with 40 minutes of basic, decently played roadhouse R&B--with; one interesting variation. Normally, you expect to see guys with receding hair lines, stubbly faces and beer guts knocking out stuff like this. The Blue Bonnets are five comely women including guitarist Kathy Valentine, best known for playing boppy New Wave pop as a member of the Go-Gos.

Otherwise, there was nothing remarkable about the Blue Bonnets’ approach. The instrumentalists worked well together in a set dominated by cover material (songs included “Walking the Dog,” “I’m a King Bee,” or in this case, “Queen Bee,” and a couple of obscure numbers from Tina Turner and Ann Peebles).

But the singer, who calls herself Pinky, lacked the full-bodied voice to make the songs knock a listener back a step--as good R&B; ought to, especially when it explores the sexy themes that seem to be the Blue Bonnets’ bread and butter (or should we say margarine?).

Pinky offered some raspy inflections and some slinky, bustier-clad stage moves but that wasn’t enough to give the band a commanding focal presence. She was unsure of what to say between songs. Anything--such as introducing the band, and giving some basic info about it, both of which she neglected to do--would have been better than the awful dirty joke she told to fill dead air during a tuning break.

BROTHER TOO: Dave Alvin also has a night to rmember. F2.