Back in 2005, a little known band from Florida (though I believe they lived in NYC at the time) calling themselves OAMIreleased an album (Day In the City)which swept me away with their vision of music--- a conglomeration of rock with beautiful but rarely used chord progressions and always a tinge of jazz (or maybe the unknown). A few years later, 2009 to be exact, Fisherreleased Water, another unique adventure into the harmonious side of the aural. And then, a few weeks ago, I happened upon a band from Louisville which brought elements of both bands to their music without probably not having heard either. In fact, the first track from CabinI heard melded the sounds so completely that I felt a tingle run up my spine. I knew the band had not heard either of the previously mentioned groups but I could not put the similarities behind me. Eerie? A little, but more like mysterious. How, I asked myself, do musicians so separated in time and space sound so similar on certain tracks? Especially when the sounds are not part of the mainstream of whatever genre they play? I don't know but they do, and they do so in spades with OAMI, Fisher, and Cabin. And, no, you won't hear it right off. Listen a few times and you begin to hear it, though--- the subtle touches which make a band more than just another band.
Take, for instance, Cabin's It Is What It Looks Like, which does not borrow heavily but has the virtual same aura as Fisher's Water Burial in the beginning before morphing into an OAMI-like riff. I don't know. Perhaps that is the only song that gives me this overwhelming feel that the bands are similar, but I can't lose it. The Oceanographer, another Cabin track from the album It Is What It Looks Like, continues my belief that OAMI lives under the skin, save for the killer violin solo break which is as good as it gets.
Maybe I want the bands to be similar because I love these bands and want something to grasp as a unifying writing idea. A way to get people to listen to all three. A way to pass long this music which is not receiving its fair due. I don't know. I just know I like it enough to write about it, and I don't write about music I don't like.
I like Cabin because the musicianship is above the norm, the songs are on the fringe and there is a cohesiveness to the music sadly lacking in a lot of albums these days. I remember a buddy back in the old days calling albums like this "smo-o-oth." I mean, everyone is on the same page. Everyone plays a part. But the whole.... the whole..... It's, um, smo-o-oth.
Lucky for you, you don't have to take my word for it. You can actually (and I mean actually) hear the band--- on the Net, if not live. Check the tunes out below, and be sure to watch the "Five Days With" video. Call it 'meet the band.' It impressed me enough to make me listen closer.
A bonus! Here is a track from an earlier album. Man, these guys freak me out, they're so good. Makes me wonder what the hell is wrong with the rest of the world.
.
Frank O. Gutch Jr.
(Frank Gutch Jr. writes and has written
for numerous magazines and websites, presently including this blog,
his
own website and the
prestigious Don't
Believe A Word I Saysite
put together by musician and music pundit Bob Segarini,
out of Toronto. He specializes in the Indies, having fought
hand-to-hand combat with major record labels for decades (talk about
zombies).
He believes music should be the core of the music business, though
business it mostly be, and denies the accepted reality in the stead
of the artistic one. Seldom does he receive pay for articles and/or
reviews and believes that there is no place for negatives in a world
in which one cannot keep up with the positives. He is, in a sense, a
lost soul in a sea of music, drowning, but drowning gratefully.)
You have to wonder what people are thinking sometimes. An example: You're leafing through the record racks and you come across an album by The Burning River Ramblers. Has to be Bluegrass or Country, right? Guess again. These ramblers are mainstream rock (from Cleveland and Athens, they say on their website). Well, maybe not straight ahead mainstream rock, but mainstream enough. But seriously? With literally thousands and maybe millions of combinations they could come up with, they settle on Burning River Ramblers? What's next? A folk duo called Amplified Baby Puke? A death metal band called Flowing Sequins? Maybe I'm out of line here, but shouldn't the name of the band give you a clue as to what sort of music they produce?
That aside, if I have to listen to mainstream, please let it be to a band at least this good. I think I've had a stroke recently because a handful of bands have sounded like Oami to me lately, and I'm sure you are asking who that is. When I returned to writing music reviews after a long layoff, Oami's Day In the City was among my first. Recorded and released in 2005, the album steamrolled me and I never really understood why. I found it fresh and just outside the mainstream, or at least that's how I choose to remember it. God only knows what I actually wrote (you can read the review here), but I'm sure I meant every word of it. I listened to that album a lot back then and still occasionally pull it out to refresh my memory, usually with the thought that I should revisit it more often.
The reason that I bring that up is that {:to color a fool} steamrolls me today in the same way that Day In the City did back then. Both bands have that ability to tap dance around a song with light rhythmic touches--- sometimes syncopated, sometimes latin, sometimes just jazz-riffy--- and those touches make the difference. Surround those rhythms with smooth vocals (and a slew of vocal hooks), flowing backup, and an attitude which reminds me more than a bit of early Steely Dan, and you have a band worthy of attention.
Cleveland. The home of another favorite, Dan Miraldi & The Albino Winos. Home base for The Damnation of Adam Blessing, The Raspberries and The Euclid Beach Band. A city full of riffmeisters and chooglers (The Burning River Ramblers qualify in both categories).
(Frank Gutch Jr. writes and has written
for numerous magazines and websites, presently including this blog,
his
own website and the
prestigious Don't
Believe A Word I Saysite
put together by musician and music pundit Bob Segarini,
out of Toronto. He specializes in the Indies, having fought
hand-to-hand combat with major record labels for decades (talk about
zombies).
He believes music should be the core of the music business, though
business it mostly be, and denies the accepted reality in the stead
of the artistic one. Seldom does he receive pay for articles and/or
reviews and believes that there is no place for negatives in a world
in which one cannot keep up with the positives. He is, in a sense, a
lost soul in a sea of music, drowning, but drowning gratefully.)
Want to know what mainstream rock is? To me, it's anything that sounds like it could have received airplay in the early- to mid-seventies. That was the magic period for rock (or what is now known as "classic" rock) and that is what I yearn for most in this day of eighties- and nineties sounds masquerading as music. Sometimes I want to scream for musicians to put those goddamn synthesizers down, just because I hear them misused too damned much. Give me a guitar or a Hammond B-3 anyday--- well, not always. But you get my drift, don't you? I mean, enough is enough, already!
So when the Nate Jones Band's EP crossed my desk, I was more than ready. No synthesizers here, or at least not synthesizers for the sake of synthesizers. No dance music for the sake of dance. Just good solid rock the way it was once played--- for the music and for the song. Not to sound like anything or anybody. Mainstream rock, sports fans, is organic rock. No forced sidesteps toward something for the wrong reason. Straight forward rock. And not hard rock or metal or any music of sub-genre status. Rock for the sake of the song.
Jones pieced together five good ones here, one which knocks me on my keister, and they bring back the days of Bill Puka and the electric James Taylor and Jim Dawson and a whole string of artists who deserved more than they got (this list is longer than my arm, people, and my arms are long). Jesse Colin Young comes to mind on Ophelia (a Robbie Robertson tune and the only non-original). Remember Grizzly Bear off the self-titled Youngbloods' album? Something like that. What Goes Up is a bit more folkie than the rest, but it is a good folk tune. Wandering Love and Another Night, Another Town are good rockers in the vein of, say, Loggins & Messina or Stu Nunnery.
The real treasure on the EP, for myself at least, is the more electric and rocking Honest Man, complete with exceptional and tasty lead guitar and keyboards. Mid-tempo, it relies as much on rhythm as melody/harmony. This I would classify as L&M at their best, and though I never cared much for their hits, I have to admit that when they hit the note, it was a good one.
Bad thing is, I could have used maybe five more tracks to smooth things out. Sitting down to a few songs is okay, but these guys make me want to hear more. Sometimes, five just ain't enough. Here's a taste.
Frank O. Gutch Jr.
(Frank Gutch Jr. writes and has written
for numerous magazines and websites, presently including this blog,
his
own website and the
prestigious Don't
Believe A Word I Saysite
put together by musician and music pundit Bob Segarini,
out of Toronto. He specializes in the Indies, having fought
hand-to-hand combat with major record labels for decades (talk about
zombies).
He believes music should be the core of the music business, though
business it mostly be, and denies the accepted reality in the stead
of the artistic one. Seldom does he receive pay for articles and/or
reviews and believes that there is no place for negatives in a world
in which one cannot keep up with the positives. He is, in a sense, a
lost soul in a sea of music, drowning, but drowning gratefully.)
The things that get sat on. A friend sat on my Fats Domino 45 back in '56--- Blueberry Hill, it was. I've sat on numerous pairs of glasses (the hazards of not having glasses on, I suppose). I had to sit on a friend once when he went berserk in a tavern and wanted to fight all-comers. I always make reference to people sitting on their thumbs. I've sat through a plethora of movies, some of which I liked. I've even had the occasional wish to be sat on, mostly in reference to and with shared reverence (alongside The Rotters) of Stevie Nicks. Let's face it. Sitting is part of life. But when sitting is in reference to the many albums I receive for review purposes, I shake my head.
A prime example is one sweet EP/mini-LP from Signature Sounds Records by one Miss Tess & The Talkbacks titled The Love I Have For You. I sat on this beauty for months, moving it down the food chain for God knows how long. I kept reading glowing reviews and swore I would get to it soon, but soon seemed to not come soon enough, I guess. I finally pulled it from the bottom of a pile and put it on and, goddamn! This puppy is every bit as good as those reviews claimed.
What makes it so? I would say that it is the ease with which the band cruises down the roots highway. Yep, it's roots. And for those who don't know what "roots" is, let me give you my definition. To me, it is music riding on the back of the past, a beast full of influences tried and true over the years. Sometimes it's blues, sometimes it's R&B, sometimes jazz. In Miss Tess's case, it is rock 'n' roll and Country & Western, two genres which were somewhat married at the hip in the fifties and sixties. I mean, look at the charts. I certainly never looked upon Faron Young and Ferlin Husky and even Marty Robbins as country, not in the beginning, though they became so as the genres split. Even when I listen to Hank Williams, I hear a lot of rock 'n' roll. So when musicians look to the past, that's roots.
Miss Tess & The Talkbacks (this is a band, sports fans, not a singer with backup) step beyond just the roots in terms of influence on this one. They actually cover the artists' songs. Now, I am not a fan of cover songs. I think covers are best left for the barroom floor because they push back the originals I so want to hear all the time. But it seems musicians are right now carried away with this fad of "giving tribute" to songs, if not albums, and I have to live with it. In this case, though, I waive my dislike of fad for the musicality of The Love I Have For You.
It helps that it starts out with a great rocker from the catalog of Ted Hawkins, Sorry You're Sick. Upbeat and bouncy, the song is a perfect fit for Tess's vocal, uh, stylings, shall we say? While she rocks the vocals, The Talkbacks choogle the bandside like they were born to it. The only original, The Love I Have For You, is a flashback to the rock 'n' roll era a la Elvis and his ilk, reminiscent of late-fifties and early-sixties rock and country. Gotta give credit for picking The Alabama Waltz out of the Hank Williams songbook instead of one of the standards we hear all the time. I have most of what Hank has ever recorded, commercially at least, and am shocked that others don't dig this deep. Can't do country much better than covering Willie (no last name needed) and his Night Life is handled beautifully here. Randy Newman? I mean, Randy Newman? If Bet No One Ever Hurt This Bad did not have the awful Spinning Wheel chord progression on the first line, I would like this more. It was hard for me to get beyond it after having hated that song for decades, but give the band credit that I am willing to overlook what I consider a Newman gaffe. If Tess had to cover anyone, I would think that it would be Bonnie Raitt and she and band kick a bit of jumpin' blues on Raitt's Give It Up Or Let Me Go. A good fit. Neil Young has written some fine songs over his career, but I find his country-ish songs disappointing, on the whole. Still, The Talkbacks carry Hold Back the Tears into the desert and conjure up dust and dusters. They also conjure up salty beer and salty tears. More than one man (or woman, for that matter) has tried to heal romantic wounds with alcohol. Another beer, bartender, and a quarter for the jukebox.
Like I said earlier, if anything holds this collection of songs together it is the ease with which Tess and band handle them. This listens like a great night at the local tavern, guys and gals in cowboy boots sliding over the dance floor and beer flowing smoothly. I am downright embarrassed to have missed it last September when it was released. Damn embarrassed.
While the song in this video is from a different project, it shows the basis for the praise heaped upon the band. One day, I hope to see them live, the gods willing.
Frank O. Gutch Jr.
(Frank Gutch Jr. writes and has written
for numerous magazines and websites, presently including this blog,
his
own website and the
prestigious Don't
Believe A Word I Saysite
put together by musician and music pundit Bob Segarini
out of Toronto. He specializes in the Indies, having fought
hand-to-hand combat with major record labels for decades (talk about
zombies).
He believes music should be the core of the music business, though
business it mostly be, and denies the accepted reality in the stead
of the artistic one. Seldom does he receive pay for articles and/or
reviews and believes that there is no place for negatives in a world
in which one cannot keep up with the positives. He is, in a sense, a
lost soul in a sea of music--- drowning, but drowning gratefully.)
"I been blindsided!" said Jimmy Durante before hotcha-ing his way offstage. I always liked Jimmy and his schtick of mispronouncing names and words and his vaudevillian attitude toward music, so it is no wonder that I take on that persona now, attempting to make light of my two year battle against cover songs and tribute albums. I have made no attempt to hide my distaste of the trend, preferring instead to hear the original music shoved aside for this dip in the shallow end of the music pool by musicians of supposed worth, but maybe I should have. It would make it easier to write this, a review of an album of (argh!) covers of Beatles songs in the form of (double argh!) a tribute album, but write it I must, if only to give credit where credit is due.
And I suppose if you must give credit to anyone besides the musicians, who all knock the ball out of the park on It Was 50 Years Ago Today, it would be Bullseye Canada's head bull, Jaimie Vernon. Sure, the idea was one many had at the 40 year mark of The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper album (50 Years Ago Today grew out of Bullseye's CD compilation of ten years ago titled It Was 40 Years Ago Today, you see), but the brilliance here is not in the idea but the execution. When this was produced, The Beatles were executed. Beautifully. You can hear it here.
Of all the artists on this album--- fifteen of them--- I knew of only two: Goddo, an artist/band of legend in Canada, and The Kings, of This Beat Goes On/Switching to Glide fame. I also knew a bit of Jaimie Vernon's work (he is featured on Helium Kids' contribution). Twelve were artistic strangers to my ears. No longer. Not only have I fully embraced every artist's cover of their chosen Beatles track, I will be checking out their histories. This is that good.
You couldn't start a project like this off better than with Good Morning Good Morning, and when it sounds like The Lolas, it is doubly good. I scratch my head, thinking back to the days of the Beatles recording and how no one could possibly have done it justice besides them--- not in my mind--- and here I am, fifty (forty) years later and hearing a cover which makes me actually want to hear a Beatles song again. Nothing against The Beatles, but I am old enough to have lived through the transformation of rock 'n' roll to rock and have heard The Beatles, ad infinitum, to the point of boredom. I love the songs. I just don't want to hear them anymore. Until now. I was skeptical. Now I am reborn. Killer track.
The only version of Savoy Truffle I've been able to stomach since the original was Terry Manning's off of his Home Sweet Home album--- ten+ minutes of it. Yet The Dons crank out an arrangement mixing The Beatles with guitar from James Bond and I'm bopping my head with abandon. Great vocals over the top of some brassy electric guitar and pounding rhythm section. A+.
Alison Solo takes Paperback Writer into semi-punk territory, spitting lyrics over the background "paperback writer" harmonies, finishing the song with a chunky guitar flourish. Just enough Beatles with modern day embellishments. I love the song. I love this version.
I'm always kidding Jaimie about people letting him anywhere near a microphone, but it is just kidding. On Helium Kids' version of Fixing a Hole, he shows attitude worthy of his punk past. Says his inspiration came from fellow Helium Kid Jef Leeson's love of XTC. Early Andy Partridge, indeed.
Helium Kids (Jaimie Vernon & Leff Leeson)
Country/folk up any Beatles song and it couldn't be any truer to the original than Jeff Jones' version of I've Just Seen a Face. Short and sweet, just like it was written and recorded forty years before.
Jeff Jones
Why am I not surprised that Goddo would choose an early rocker to cover? Greg Godovitz has been all over the place in his long career, but he loves his roots and roots is what he gives on You Can't Do That. If you had asked me blind who it was, I could as easily have said Swinging Blue Jeans or Billy J. Kramer & The Dakotas as Goddo. Outstanding in its subtlety.
Phil Vincent is a name I somehow missed in my long run in music and I don't know why. Swear to God, Canada, as much as I like to think as the Northern US, is a whole different country musically. And I Love Her has crunchy rhythm guitar, late-seventies lead guitar and solid vocals. Like REO Speedwagon might have done it in their early days.
Tom Hooper? Long Long Long? Hell, I didn't even know this song was by The Beatles. One they did not kill through overplay. Hooper nails it--- smooth vocals, instrumental background and all. Very well done.
Tell you what. Let's take Eleanor Rigby on a bit of a ride. Which is what The First Time must have said because the driving rhythm guitar pushes the song while odd semi-lead guitar over the top gives it a slightly dissonant tone. SF's The Tazmanian Devils might have played this on a really good night. I loved the Devils. Still don't understand how they missed.
The First Time
Frank Soda? Great name! Think of all the possibilities for album covers! A bit of drama in his presentation of I Feel Fine turns it into a whole 'nother song. If they ever do a Beatles stage thing similar to the one they did about The Four Seasons (What was that? Jersey Boys?), this is the arrangement they should use.
Eytan Mirsky was a mite depressed when he recorded Don't Bother Me. He says so right at the beginning. Again, just enough Beatles and just enough Eytan. Never heard it? You'll recognize it when you hear this.
Peter Kearns. Man, the intro alone of Across the Universe is worth the price of admission. Lots o' keyboards, a light bongo effect in the background and solid vocals and you have another song which stands on its own, sans Beatles. I really need to research him and all of the other cats I'm hearing here.
Sun PK, huh? They sound as much like The Arbors or Orpheus as anyone on Happy Just To Dance With You. An excellent version which makes my point that sometimes arrangements deserve a category all its own, right up there with performance and recording. The Beatles go Hollywood?
Those crazy Kings I mentioned earlier? They take For No One and simplify and upgrade. I especially like the guitar lead on the break. By the way, the band has also released a collection of songs from their early days under the title Lost Tapes of a Seventies Bar Band which is intriguing, at the very least. As for For No One, they nail it.
Out of all the songs The Beatles have done, the one I would not want to tackle would be A Day In the Life, but Figures At Dawn didn't even blink. They simply tackle it from the art rock side. Call it Music From Another Universe. Music written for the stage. It makes me smile, actually, because they do it so well, from the semi-operatic/theatrical vocals to the classical slant on the instrumental side.
Don't let the fact that you may not know any of these artists throw you. This is a first class production all the way. The bands/artists know what to do with the music and they do it very well.
Of course, Jaimie has reactivated Bullseye Canada as an all digital label, so you can forget vinyl and CD for now, but maybe..... Actually, I suggest you keep your eyes open. Bullseye pressed a very limited edition of the three CD set (of which this is only one) under the 40 Year title (see above), so you might find, if you are very very lucky, a used copy out there somewhere. You will have to battle me for it, though. After hearing these fifteen tracks, I now hunger for the whole enchilada.
Covers? Tributes? I'm not giving up my negative attitude toward the trend just yet, but this has put a real dent in my negativity, though. A big dent.
You know why people think music is dead? I don't either, but maybe it has something to do with all of the weak links in a business sinking in quicksand of its own making. Maybe it has to do with consumers looked at as consumers and not people whose worth goes beyond their pocketbooks. Maybe it has to do with a media so heavily dug in that they think they cannot move without losing the battle and the war, thinking (not unlike Romney) that they have things under control, until the annual figures are tabulated.
Maybe it has to do with the fact that there is so goddamn much music available today as opposed to even yesterday that people cannot negotiate their way through the mountainous mass. So they sit and wait. They don't even try while wailing and beating their chests and bemoaning the lack of good music while being surrounded by and, in fact, buried in it.
It isn't the music that is dead, friends, but the hearts and souls of so many music lovers. They spend so much time looking back that they have no idea that there is a present or a future. They wallow in the same old, and I get that, to a degree. We all, when we reach a certain age, look back. It is in most of our genes. But to look back and make comparisons of then and now is a fool's task unless you actually know the now. And what the media is telling us is now, musically, is such a small portion of it that it boggles the mind.
I could go on a rant, sure, and I have done so a few times, but that would defeat the whole idea of the now, wouldn't it? That would also fall on deaf ears. I know out of experience how hard it is to get people to listen when they don't want to (and mostly, they don't) but I also know that when given a chance, on their own, many will.
That's what this post is about. I'm giving you a chance. I have done most of the work for you here. I have picked some of the best and most intriguing of the Indies for you to peruse, by video. All that's left for you to do is read my little introductions, click on the videos and listen. Here we go.....
LIANNE SMITH/Snow---
A few months ago, I got this package in the mail from one Lianne Smith. We evidently share a friend in Brian Cullman and Cullman had suggested myself as a possible reviewer of her new album, The CD package is beautiful and when I listened I found the music to be the same. Whilst taking time off from writing to surf the Net a few weeks ago, I noticed a video from Ms. Smith. Well, not Ms. Smith as much as from animator Marianne Petit, who captures the very essence of Lianne's song. Since seeing and hearing this, I cannot separate the song from the video. Sometimes the simplest is really the best.
VINNIE ZUMMO/Ringo---
Vinnie Zummo, for those who don't already know, played guitar for Joe Jackson once upon a time. Since, he has taken solo to a whole new level, working on and producing not just songs and albums but videos to promote his incredible mass of work. Prodigious, that's the word I'm looking for The guy is a machine, always working, but the difference between Zummo and others is that he does not lose his spark. He retains that creative edge which makes his songs and whole projects fresh. Take, for instance, this video. Not only is it a tribute to Ringo, it is a musical statement about the importance of The Beatles in Zummo's life. An amazing song in itself, he, along with first-time director Paolo Marchica, has turned it into an amazing video. If you like The Beatles at all, you really should watch this:
TOM HOUSE/Whiskey Sings Like Angels---
I wish I could put my finger on why the listening public accepts one bit of music and rejects or ignores another. I mean, why did Dylan become such a huge success when so many others from the Bleecker & MacDougall days did not? Sure, you could go with the general acceptance that Dylan was more talented, but I think it goes way deeper than that. We as a public, I don't think, have an ability to accept or reject on our own. We need others to accept something before we "waste our time". After hearing Tom House's The Long Winding Roadalbum, let me assure you that sometimes it is not a waste but a joy to find music which flies above others. This video was put together by two people who not only believe in the album but in House himself: Lance Smith and Keith Morris. Both musicians themselves, they set about the task of putting video to music because they felt the need. In this day and age, House is somewhat unique in that he tosses aside the precepts and goes for the soul. You'll understand when you see and hear it. And if you're at all interested in my take on the Tom House's of the world, here is a column I wrote some time ago. House is toward the middle.
THE SAMPLES/When It's Raining---
I confess to not having heard The Sampleswhen I was turned on to this video and, in fact, not having even heard of head Sample Sean Kelly. Thanks to friend Michael Adams, I not only found a great song and video but a huge catalogue of music which I am still working my way through. Kelly, I found, is one hell of a songwriter and has a voice to match. His solo work has gems which in the past would easily have been hits but, alas, hits are a mere ghost of what they once were. The music, hit or not, is there, though, and Kelly's puts many of the stars of the day to shame. One day soon, I am hoping to interview Mr. Kelly and write a large piece detailing his brush with fame and the reasons it was not fully realized. Until then, I suggest you watch this.
CRAIG ELKINS/Tumbleweeds---
He was a member of Huffamoose at one time, was Elkins, but when he went solo not a moose was to be seen. Craig Elkins is a strange one, indeed, in that he writes in a style few have even attempted--- this rambling stream-of-consciousness lyrical debate with music. Musically, he lives in his own world and when that world sloshes over into our own, we go through airpockets, the music outstanding and the lyrics at times unsettling. His current album, I Love You, is packed with the kinds of songs people way ahead of the curve are hearing now. There is a good chance that, in six months to a year, you will be listening too. Check out the video closely. If I don't miss my guess, that is a very young Oliver Reed portraying his own scene within a scene from maybe Reefer Madness. I mean, it is uncanny in its retro-ness.
RED RATTLES/It's a Shame---
Charlottesville is a hotbed of music. You can quote me. That city is, without a doubt, per capita, the heaviest of the heavies. I have found too many bands and artists within throwing distance of Charlottesville to deny it. So when friend Stuart Gunter sends me a list of artists I need to check out, I check them out. Awhile ago, Red Rattleswas on that list. Two man rock, it is--- guitar and drums--- not unlike New York's Crushed Out (formerly Boom Chick). Killer rock with flashes of the raw fifties-edged rock 'n' roll of the past. Check out this video and you'll understand (unless you know nothing of fifties music, of course).
CRUSHED OUT/Weigh You Down---
Okay, I admit to having a crush on Crushed Out's Moselle Spiller. Not only is it cool to see a "chick" (as in the former band name, Boom Chick) wail on the drums, but Moselle is just such a cool name, know what I mean? Two people--- guitar and drums. Not unlike Red Rattles, but in their own dimension. I saw these guys live. I hope to again. They were just plain fun!
THE FIRE TAPES/Reprise---
I've got Charlottesville on the brain today and that works out for you. The Fire Tapes are one of a handful of bands which straddles the fence between psych and a handful of other styles. They space, they rock, they jam and they do it so well that they're packing places out all over the East Coast (or so I understand). Understandable. Their one album, Dream Travel, is an outstanding mix and well worth hearing. If you like psych at all, you have to give these guys a listen. Outstanding video, too.
ELEPHANT REVIVAL/QuillPen Feather---
Colorado's Elephant Revival are freaking me out. I'd not heard of them until I stumbled across an excellent video of one of their songs, Rings Around the Moon, some months ago but have heard so much of them since that I believe they are in charge of their own destiny and are doing it right. They work as hard as any band I've been acquainted with and are fast building a national rather than just regional presence. I would normally put the Rings video here, but they have just released a new EP titled It's Alive and this video to support it. One of the few acoustic bands that I really, really (really) enjoy.
WRINKLE NECK MULES/Central Daylight Time---
You know that Geico commercial in which the gecko dances a little toe shuffle to country music? Turns out the band playing that music is none other than the aforementioned Stuart Gunter's own band, Wrinkle Neck Mules. So they went into a studio to record this live version and filmed it and, sonofagun, here it is. Cameo by the gecko. Music by the Mules. Dancing courtesy of--- damn! I forgot to get her name!
I think ten is enough to start with. You guys do have lives, right? I will be putting together more of these little columns designed specifically to point to videos of bands worthy of your attention, so stay tuned. In the meantime, check out the videos and if you like them, check out the artists. You don't have to buy remastered Beatles to get your musical kicks. These do right nicely.
The Bombs Away Cafe was the road less traveled this past Saturday night in Corvallis, the Oregon State Beavers game with Cal taking the spotlight, but Xenat-Ra made that road as palatable as it could have been. Misery steered clear as rhythms and a whole lot more shook the very foundations of the small and cozy restaurant/lounge/music venue and wowed an all too small crowd, considering the quality of the music. More than once I asked myself if anyone in Corvallis and indeed the whole Willamette Valley knew what they were missing and surmised that they did not. I expected a larger crowd. Xenat-Ra is a band worthy of a larger crowd. They are major league worthy.
Of course, I didn't know that when I walked eight blocks through the rain to the Bombs Away. I could hear the loud cheers from the football stadium and saw the fireworks which evidently heralded a score and could hear the incredibly loud foghorn which succeeded it. I looked up only when I had to, the rain carried by gusts directly into the eyes when it was not streaming down the back of my neck. My shoes were getting wet, my eyes blurry from the rain, the puddles making my walk longer with each one I had to circumvent. Still, my spirits were not dampened. I had listened to Xenat-Ra's new album numerous times over the previous days and, truth be told, was overwhelmed. I was anxious to see if they could pull it off, Science For the Sound Man having an intense drive and an other-music-worldly sense of non-direction. If that confuses you, imagine my confusion when I first sat down at the computer expecting a bit of prog and was swept up into a whirlwind of jazz, hip-hop, rock, third world rhythms and, yes, prog, though it was prog like I had seldom heard. It looked to be an interesting night.
Unlike most other times I go out to hear live music, I sat down to a cold glass of Sierra Nevada Celebration Ale and opened my notebook and started writing right away:
"It is a cold and rainy night in Corvallis," I wrote, "and the Beavers are playing Cal and the Bombs Away is as empty as I have seen it at 9 PM, weekend or not. Usually, the tables are filled with patrons wolfing down one of the many excellent hot dishes that smell so good and which I have yet to try.
"Whether the Beavers win or lose is not a subject here tonight, the main question being when Xenat-Ra will take the stage. There is a possibility that they will wait for stragglers from the game, hoping the cover charge might cover gas, though if the crowd stayed this small it would cover little else. Although maybe that is overstatement or even completely off-base. The band is here and setting up and seem amazingly happy, having been comped on food and drinks, but more because they like being together and, more important, love playing before a crowd.
"I expected a young bunch in their late twenties but they are older, ages ranging from early thirties to fifty. I am taken somewhat aback because the music I have been listening to demands an incredible amount of focus and energy.
"No, what they play is not hip-hop. Not totally. They incorporate jazz and prog and hard rock and many others influences, but when there are vocals, it is hip-hop. At least on record.
"They do have a record. A real honest to God piece of vinyl, in fact, or should I say pieces. It is actually a double album packaged in two single album packages, 150 grams worth, by God, and the drummer, JD Monroe, seems quite proud of that fact. 'Not 180,' he apologizes, as if apologies were necessary. 'We pressed it on vinyl for the warmth,' he said, before launching into a lengthy comparison of formats. Just the smile on his face explained it. No words necessary.
"There are six in the band and I end up talking with two--- JD and fellow percussionist Joel Hirsch. The topics of conversation ranged from food to technical aspects of music to musical background. JD had grown up in Corvallis. Joel lived in L.A. and New York before finding his way here. They obviously are glad to be here. They are obviously happy to be playing music.
"They head to the stage, one at a time, for a sound check. It is going to be a long night, I think, as the room seemed to shrink with each piece of equipment brought on stage. Still, even if the sound is ear-splitting, it is already worth it, having learned the basics of Math Rock, a term I had heard but had never had defined. I learned the importance of sound, the technical aspects, as the band's sound man floated around the room discussing it. I thought that the sound man's goal might be impossible to reach, the room so small and packed with equipment. How little I know.
"The band members spent the last ten minutes before starting moving tables and chairs off the floor. It seemed a lot of work but they were determined. When they finally took their places, JD's bone-shaking thumps on the bass drum and the low notes of the keyboards and electronics shook the very soul. I regretted not bringing earplugs. I prayed that the sound man was as good as his talked because he certainly talks a good game, but you never know until the music starts.
"I frantically scratched notes, making sure I noted that it took two years for the album, start to finish. Most of it was recorded in three days two years ago, live, and they worked in it over the next year or two while gathering funds to press. Not much, he said. Just the occasional dub. Like the congas and percussion of Joel Hirsch. That's how he joined the band. He sat in on the sessions and it worked so well that they asked him to join."
That's as far as I got with my notes. I would have written more but for the thumping bass drum and syncopated rhythms as JD started things off and when the band came in, one instrument at a time, thinking was out. It was an odd cross between the Allmans and The Dead, this jazzy rambling start to the evening, an old trunk with popped clutch, the rhythms starting and stopping as the engine struggled to engage and then..... And then all hell broke loose. Xenat-Ra did exactly what I was afraid they might not be able to do--- rock the house.
I started smiling about halfway through the first song (if song it can be called and I say that in the most positive manner possible) and I already knew it was going to be a long night. Not because the music was bad but because it was so good that my face locked in that smile and my face started to hurt. It reminds me of the night I saw Tom Waits in this little basement on San Diego State's campus. I laughed so hard the first fifteen minutes that I couldn't really enjoy the rest of the show. It just hurt too much. Well, here I was again, face muscles clinched and headache on its way. Again, not because the music was bad but because it was so goddamned good!
This is not the kind of music I would take home to my mother. It is intense, riffy, jazz-heavy and prog'd out. You probably either love nit or hate it. The people that night loved it, from the headbangers (there were a few) and the body shifters (with different music, they would have been dancers, but how can you dance to music which changes time signatures at the drop of a hat).
Indeed, Monroe and Hirsch worked their asses off working the beat(s) and the band, individually and together, was right there with them. Monk Metz, the vocalist/rapper who spewed words faster than a woodchipper on acid, and not just words but the right words. I had listened closely during his sound check and the guy has a way with vocals-as-percussion as well as lyrical poetry, which this was. Not only that, but he had a stage presence which was both confident and inclusive--- his fist pumps and tense poses for the music and not the vapid air guitar poses most of us strike, thinking we look cool when we really don't. No, Metz has it down, right down to practically disappearing in stage when the instrumental side of the band took off, kneeling on one knee, head down and bobbing to the beat. He was listening--- not for his cue but to the music.
Guitarist Mark France mirrored that odd duck lieutenant on Monk, the TV show--- smiling when listening but eyes glued to the frets when his fingers, at times twisted like tentacles, worked their way up and down the neck. The music was a challenge to him as much as it was to each member of the group, but France made it look like work. The results were at times magnificent (especially when he dropped to the floor to mess with his foot pedals while launching electronic missives straight out of Robert Fripp) and always spot on. And when he wasn't doing that, he plucked chords or strings as if he wasn't even paying attention at all while watching the soloist or ensemblist of the moment take their turn.
People who weren't following the music could easily toss saxophonist Matt Calkins onto that heap pile of instruments-added-for-effect (God, but I've heard statements like that too often in my life), but those would be the ones who didn't get the importance of Jack Lancaster to Blodwyn Pig or David Jackson to Van der Graaf Generator. When Calkins wasn't supplying the musical link while the others ran amok, he was adding to the percussion. He is the utility infielder necessary to bridge the gap during times of madness.
Dave Trenkel. What to say about Dave..... The quietest of the bunch. Not on his keyboards, which he played to absolute perfection, but in presence. He watched and smiled and made the sounds coming from his amp seem so easy to produce. His full beard snaked out of his wool hat--- if there was anyone on that stage who personified the plaid-wearing lumberjack, it was Dave--- and made him the friendly sasquatch. He was cool. No, he didn't act cool. He just was. And he played the different keyboards with the mastery of a Gregg Rolie dipped in electronic sauce (I mention Rolie because a couple of times I heard that magic organ sound of Santana, helped along by those superb conga rhythms emanating from the jungle master, Joel Hirsch.
I know. It sounds like I'm giving them major league credit. I am. They deserve it. No other band in the prog/jazz (and now, hip-hop) vein has impressed me as much except maybe Ticktockman, a Seattle steam engine of a band I cannot stop talking about. And I'm digging it. Now I can compare the two bands and hopefully make some points. That sometimes music is played for music's sake. That music can be infectious. That staying within your "safe" zone is not good. I mean, sure, Led Zeppelin has recorded some good music. Excellent music. But surrounding yourself even with the best can be extremely limiting on more than just the musical level. It can cause brain rot. And rotting brains smell. Hence, the walking dead.
Well, these guys aren't dead. They are, in fact, very much alive. Alive and driven. Driven by the rhythm. Driven by the music. Just plain driven. And if you don't believe me, please follow this link to their Bandcamp page. Listen. Then, if you are of a mind, purchase their double-LP package or a CD. Either comes with free download and I'm telling you right now, this album is at the top of this generation's collector's item list. That's Science For the Soundman. And while you're there, why not check out their Xenat-Ra Live album. Right now, it's name-your-own-price and, what the hell, you can stream it to hear what you're getting.
Speaking of the sound man, he was the seventh man this night. He mixed the band so well that the sound, loud as it was, was perfectly balanced. I've been to shows in small rooms and come home with ears bleeding. When I left the Bombs Away, they didn't even ring. I didn't get your name, pal, but you deserve an award.
