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ELEVEN GALLON HAT Sean Thibadeaux, left, Andrew de Velscow and Milan Bertosa make up the acoustic trio.

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EGH breaks
‘fourth wall’

Theater folks call it the "fourth wall," the space between artist and audience, the side of the stage that's missing, the window into the drama. The TV screen is the broadcast equivalent; in music, it's trickier and more complex. Music encourages audience rapport, but the edge of the stage, the microphones, PA gear, banks of speakers, pedal boxes, wires, wires and more wires tend to keep listeners at arm's length.

Up close With Eleven Gallon Hat Where: Atherton Performing Arts Studio, Hawaii Public Radio, 738 Kaheka St. When: 7:30 p.m. Saturday Admission: $17.50 general, $15 HPR members and $10 students Call: 955-8821 or go online to www.Eleven-GallonHat.com

Not to mention sheer volume. Night after night, journeyman guitarslinger Sean Thibadeaux sat in with some of the loudest, rockingest bands in Hawaii, and guess what? The glitter wore off. That persistent buzz in the ears, the drunks, the late nights, the gear-hauling, the rancid secondhand smoke, the pitiful money, that sour smell in the back-access alley -- yeah, baby! the glamour of it all! -- and what was being lost in the noisome chaos was musical artistry.

Small wonder, then, that Thibadeaux and friends Milan Bertosa and Andrew de Velscow began to retreat into simple acousticity. No amps. No electricity. Nothing between the player and the listener. Their jams focused on songs they gravitated to, often intelligent, country-flavored folk.

Inevitably, microphones appeared -- Thibadeaux calls them "robots" -- and their elegant and private give-and-take was captured on recordings. A formal name was added: Eleven Gallon Hat. Recognition of the group's reality led to an actual recording: "Eleven Gallon Hat." The recording led to a Web site: ElevenGallonHat.com.

In the music business, success makes everything roll uphill, very Sisyphean. The next step is live performance, and Eleven Gallon Hat will be appearing at Atherton Performing Arts Studio Saturday night.

How about that "fourth wall"?

"It won't be amplified, no mikes," Thibadeaux said. "Maybe a small amplifier for the lap steel guitar. That's all. It's like chamber music -- intimate, immediate. PA systems are a limitation only from a commercial point of view. Musicians hear it differently from the audience, and amplification pushes an audience back. They have to get closer.

"There's an immediacy when you're closer. That's the issue. Technology, no matter how good or how hi-fi, still creates a wall. I mean ... say the guy on stage is playing an acoustic guitar, and it's miked. The sound doesn't come from the guitar, no matter how good it sounds. It comes from monitor speakers placed left and right over your head.

"And processing the sound changes it. The sound of wood vibrating is very different form the sound of speakers vibrating."

Which explains why the song selection of their first CD is so acoustic in nature, echoes of a pre-rock era when folk music sang from the heart instead of the pocketbook.

"We play whatever we want, and that ranges all over the place, but tends to be a little country, a little swing, a little folk," Thibadeaux said. "The three-piece acoustic thing is what binds the repertoire together.

"This first album is all covers, but the next one will have lots of originals, because we're getting inspired."

The first album was recorded in bits and pieces, totally live, and yet feels consistent.

"No overdubs!" laughed Thibadeaux. "There's a lot of bleeds between the individual tracks because it was in such a small room. You get a whole different feeling from playing together on something and doing the traditional recording route, which is laying down tracks individually, by yourself, usually without the other band guys around."

Which sounds more like bricklaying than music. What's next?

"We're starting something called Get-Your-Own-Band Records, to help folks create their own albums and music," said Thibadeaux, noting that others might as well profit from their experience. Just don't expect them to provide the amps and robots.

First listen

"Eleven Gallon Hat" is a quiet and reflective walk in the country, aided considerably by Thibadeaux's breaking twang, which humanizes the tunes. It's very restrained -- not in a tied-down way -- and maybe too much so. There's skillful playing, sure, but nothing flashy. I'm reminded of expert samurai who leave their swords in the scabbard, because they don't need to wave them around to get the job done. The song choice ranges from obscure to delightful, particularly a light-fingered cover of Roger Miller's classic "King of the Road."