Picture as seen at  http://www.stonesthrow.com/mayerhawthorne Close your eyes for a moment and conjure up the 1970’s.  The decade when men wore polyester leisure suits and women wore orange lipstick and blue eye shadow.  Bell bottoms evolved into elephant bells.  Heads were styled in picked-out perms and Farrah Fawcett layers.  Pet rocks were en vogue.  Everybody had a Venus Fly Trap.  New age types gobbled up Maharishi Mahesh Yogi’s transcendental meditation.  Wealthy housewives took synchronized swimming classes.  Avocado green appliances and faux wood paneling took homes hostage.  Roller discos were filled every Saturday night.  Cars were tanks.  Eight-track tapes clicked midway through your favorite song.    Wolfman Jack was traveling over the airwaves.  Soul Train was in your living room… It was no surprise to me that Mayer Hawthorne and The County packed the Port City Music Hall in Portland Maine on Friday night.   This marked his first performance in Portland.   The

Photo Courtesy of   http://www.jeffreyfoucault.com/press.html      Outlaw folk musician Jeffrey Foucault had Club Passim bursting at the seams on Saturday night.  Just a few steps down from street level, fans crowded into the landmark venue nabbing any available nook that they could find.  Armed with his guitar, Foucault literally had to squeeze his way through the friendly shuffle to get on stage.  He flashed a smile, joked a bit about his day, and plugged in. What happened next was amazing, and I’m not just saying that as a goofy fan-geek.  He maneuvered through sixteen songs, captivating the audience’s complete concentration.  He did this by simply feeling every note and meaning every word he sang.  He was believable.  He had me at first strum. He connected both musically and lyrically with the crowd.   He called up his friend and opener Hayward Williams to play along with him for several songs.  They were free and unincorporated, treating the audience to a solid s