Buffalo Tom brings its Boston buoyancy to the Troub

Kevin Bronson on
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As Buffalo Tom adjusted the furniture at the beginning of their set Wednesday night at the Troubadour, frontman Bill Janovitz strummed and sang a verse from an Oasis hit. The stunt got a laugh but was notable for two other reasons: It marked the show as a loose, friends-and-family affair, and, in a manner, it time-stamped the proceedings. We were back in the 1990s.

But a funny thing happened on the trio’s 90-minute trip down memory lane. Buffalo Tom’s cathartic grunge-pop sounded fresh and honest as ever, from the punk-rock nugget “Reason Why” off their 1988 debut to the folkier stuff from their last two releases, “Three Easy Pieces” in 2007 and this year’s “Skins.” And the band, celebrating its silver anniversary this year, found an eager, doting audience in the many Angelenos with roots in the 617. At times, it felt like a Boston high school reunion – or a Bruins after-party.

Janovitz’s gritty vocals, a calling card of some of the trio’s best work, were in fine form; his world-weariness was countered by the songs on which bassist Chris Colbourn’s boyish voice took the lead. Drummer Tom Maginnis backed it all capably, delivered the requisite thunder for bounce-along songs like “Sodajerk,” “Treehouse” and “Summer.” The band’s seminal 1992 album “Let Me Come Over” was well-represented, with the buoyant guitar swirl of “Larry” inspiring a sing-along to “Now’s the time / friend of mine,” a loose take on the arching “Mineral” and an urgent (even possibly rushed) version of “Taillights Fade,” the big anthem the trio has probably played hundreds of times since its 1992 origins.

The material on “Skins,” the band’s eighth album, doesn’t for a second suggest Buffalo Tom is trying to reinvent itself, and that’s OK. Janovitz, Colbourn and Maginnis are not that sort. They are the guys next door who do what they do – pile great melodies on top of rough-hewn slabs of guitar and sing about being better, being truer. That they have stayed the course 25 years is a blessing, and one that scarcely a single person Wednesday night at the Troubadour took for granted.

Photos by Bronson