Jesse Malin
Words: Michael Rabinowitz
Photos: Michael Rabinowitz

Appeared:
July 5, 2007
The Orpheum, Ybor City

Having been bred in New York’s lower east side bars and cavernous clubs (like CBGB), how does a soulful street savvy troubadour like Jesse Malin make the adjustment to the late night talk show stages of Leno, Conan, and Letterman?

“You’ve got to get into a good mood, get yourself amped up backstage,” Malin fires off.    “It’s like waiting all day in one of those long lines at an amusement park and you hit the first drop and it’s over in a minute.  It reminds me of the movie The King Of Comedy.  I feel like DeNiro’s character, Rupert Pupkin: ‘I’d rather be king for a night than a schmuck for life!’” 

But, unlike Pupkin, Malin did not steal someone’s life, or fame.  He is the product of his own meandering rock odyssey.  An every man from New York’s burrows, Malin has drawn the respect of late icon Joe Strummer, contemporary Ryan Adams, and captain of the old guard, Bruce Springsteen.  In fact, it’s a duet with the Boss, the melancholy ballad “Broken Radio,” that is putting Malin and his third solo LP, Glitter In The Gutter, onto the public radar.

At Orpheum, Malin found a familiar setting for his roots based rock.

Citing The Replacements as a major influence, Malin is a natural ringer for, if not an improvement to, Paul Westerberg’s scratchy whine.  His lyrics straddle between seemingly biographical and strikingly cinematic, focusing on urban Lou Reed-esque prose; that is, they draw the listener into intriguing tales of everyman lost love and worn out dreams.  While his set ventured into the pastiche of generic east coast blue-collar rock, it is his unabashed sincerity that stands out.  For Malin, this is the common thread throughout his career. 

“The common theme is songs,” Malin insists. “I think it’s being into the songs as much as the fast crazy fun Saturday night break all the rules kind of stuff.  To me, what you say in those three minutes, lyrically and emotionally, is key.” 

This was evident during his Ybor set, especially on “Lucinda,” an ode to the queen of country lyricists, Lucinda Williams, and “Tomorrow Tonight,” a rousing folk rocker that would make Ryan Adams proud.

But, it is the dreams of movie storytelling where Malin, who updates a list of favorite movies on his website, draws the biggest inspiration.  New York of early years, before the Giuliani Disney-fication, is the era of cinema that best describes Malin’s tonal preferences. 

“I am a big fan of 70’s films because they got away with breaking the rules.  I definitely like the slice of life people like Scorcese, and Cassavetes, and Coppola.  I thrive on these films for creative output.”  It is no wonder his merch table T-shirts rip off Scorcese’s logo to “Mean Streets.” 

Movies, the modern American myth, are an open pool of inspiration for an artist.  The time in the theater, away from the studio, is well worth it.  Malin prefers to quote a mentor and hero on the subject:  “As Joe Strummer once said, ‘No input.  No output.’” 

After 26 years in the business, Malin’s output is shining just as bright as the cinematic imaginings he grew up on.