When I met Adam Weiner in 2007, the slicked-back singer and pianist was moving between New York City gay bars and Philadelphia late-night cabarets performing under the lounge-soul nom-de-plume Ladyfingers, while plotting his next move: that of the joyously energetic, dirtball rock ‘n’ roll frontman of Low Cut Connie. With an eye toward retro imagery and songs teetering on bruising, E Street-worthy anthems, LCC has fashioned a handful of aching studio albums and an athletic live show whose physical passion must be felt to be believed. That’s why Low Cut Connie’s Art Dealers, a concert-film/rock-doc hybrid directed by Weiner and Roy Power, and the brand-new Connie Live album are the perfect in-living-color combo, and a possible punctuation to this time—or sound—in Weiner’s aesthetic life.
Nobody loves a great rock doc as do I, but lately, the glut of historical music films has been little more than advertisements. What’s your take on real missed opportunities to tell objective stories, and what did you do to combat that in making the Art Dealers documentary?
Over the last couple years, a lot of music films have become really fluffy and mostly focused on the absolute top one percent of the music business. I wanted to show a real grits-and-grime depiction of my show and what life for a working-class band is really like. I think the best documentaries are rarely about our most famous artists. I was inspired by films like American Movie, Crumb and Paris Is Burning, documentaries that really cut the heart of the matter of art making and performance without a filter.
I’ve witnessed your live show at least 20 times, and I can honestly say that you genuinely exude more real sweat than any other performer I’ve come across. Is there a lot of pre- or post-show baby powder going on? Are you hopping into the shower as soon as you’re done your set? What is the show ritual when it comes to toweling down?
There’s often a bunch of meeting and greeting that happens post-show, a couple sweet little hugs and jokes, but I am often an empty shell of a man post-show and just sorta gather myself and move along. I give 110 percent onstage, and I often don’t have much to offer the world post-show.
The New York live footage from Sony Hall and the Blue Note looks crazy cool and high grade. I know that (Weiner’s online variety show) Tough Cookies makes money and that your concerts sell out, but that is some sleek designer cinematography? Do you mind if I ask how you afforded it?
We were given an amazing opportunity post-pandemic in that Sony asked if we’d be willing to have them film a show at Sony Hall in order to make a commercial. They were using a ton of high-end cameras, lighting, etc., and I basically traded the commercial for the ability to use their work and add to it with our crew. We captured lightning in a bottle and actually did it very strategically and affordably.
Certainly, you released a live doc and a live album because, like Kiss, the key to your music and lyrics is the energy of the performance. A two-part question: Is there anything going forward that you can or will do to your studio albums to reenact the passion of the live set? Not that there’s anything wrong with your studio albums. And, is there one song in your studio catalog that you most wanted to record live, as its in-concert version alone has its initial desired effect—and why that particular song?
In the studio, I simply try to capture three-dimensional moments that feel alive. It’s easy to get lulled into a vibe-less place in the studio and make records that are claustrophobic—I try to keep things feeling alive and make crucial moments happen. One trade secret is to keep the temperature hot in the studio. On Connie Live, I love the solo version of “Big Thighs, NJ.” That song has traveled such a distance since its release in 2011 on the first album (Get Out The Lotion). It has become an anthem for all the sweet misfits at our shows and out there in Connie-land. You can hear the audience singing every word to the song. This is the magic of live performance—songs can become magic.
Art Dealers is a crazy-funny title for an album and a documentary because all of us in this business hope that we are dealing and doling out something visionary, something artful. What can you tell me, now after a bunch of albums and a zillion band members, about where and what the LCC aesthetic is and where you’re going with it? Because I sense—and this is a guess on my part—that Art Dealers is a demarcation of sorts. A line in the sand for what was once, but could soon change.
You are very perceptive, my pal. [Laughs] Low Cut Connie has been a constantly evolving project for 14 years, always growing and changing. I am thrilled and grateful that so many people have stuck with me for the wild ride. Dealing in art is a very challenging endeavor, but I try to bring my best and bring out the best in the people I work with. The film and Connie Live are indeed a capper to an amazing period. I’m about to take a little breath and then begin my next chapter. I have a number of things up my sleeve for 2025 and 2026, including new music, a new show and new broadcasting. I’m always trying to set the bar higher, and that is what I am currently doing. I’m very excited about what is coming next.
—A.D. Amorosi
See Low Cut Connie live.
