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July 29, 2008
* "perhaps the best alt-country band you never got a chance to hear."
Summertime, 1993. A couple of friends and I decided to take a road-trip from Seattle to Calgary, ostensibly to visit some friends of ours who had a surf-instrumental trio in Calgary called Huevos Rancheros, but probably just as much for the fun of driving across the upper Pacific Northwest and Canadian Rockies.
One night -- Friday August 13, to be precise (the old show-logs come through again) -- Richie, the Rancheros' drummer, took us out to a kinda funky but cool western-styled joint called the Old Scotch, mostly just to see the place and to hang out. As we walked in, a band was playing. They sounded pretty good at first blush; as I got a beer at the bar, I watched and listened a little closer. No, these guys weren't good, they were great. In fact, as they continued to roll off song after song that were so good they just had to be classic Everly Brothers covers -- except that they weren't -- it began to dawn on me that this was probably one of the best bands I'd ever seen. And, far as I knew, nobody outside this little bar in Calgary had even heard of them.
They called themselves the Blue Shadows, and, as it turned out, they were somewhat renowned in Canada by then. They'd just released their debut record, on the Canadian arm of Columbia Records, a few days earlier. I was reminded about all this a couple of days ago, when our longtime Canadian contributing editor Paul Cantin passed along a link to a YouTube video. It was the Blue Shadows, six days before the show I stumbled upon in Calgary, performing live on a makeshift stage outside the A&B Sound record store in downtown Vancouver (where the band lived), celebrating the release of On The Floor Of Heaven:
I'd bought the album at the show in Calgary; five days later (according to the file-date on my computer), I'd submitted a review of it to The Rocket, the biweekly Seattle publication for which I frequently reviewed records back then. The liner notes to the disc revealed that there was in fact a considerable back-story here: One of the group's two guitarist/vocalists was Billy Cowsill, lead singer for late '60s family-band the Cowsills (the real-life inspiration for the Partridge Family TV series).
I won't attempt to tell Cowsill's whole story here because, frankly, that's more likely a novel (or at least a screenplay) rather than a blog-entry. The sad ending is that he's no longer with us; he passed away in early 2006, just a few weeks after the body of his brother Barry had been identified in New Orleans many months after Barry had apparently died during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina.
Billy had led a stormy life, with frequent bouts of alcohol and drug addiction, though he'd gotten clean toward the end; his death came not long after he'd been diagnosed with Cushing's Syndrome, and in the wake of back surgery, as well as broken hips resulting from osteoporosis. Over the decades he'd apparently burned bridges with various allies and friends, though he reconciled with some of them before his passing.
As for the Blue Shadows -- the Vancouver footage reminded just how much of a shame it was that this band hardly even got noticed beyond Canadian borders. I can't imagine, for example, any fan of the early Jayhawks records not being immediately drawn to their music. Perhaps at some point, their two mid-'90s albums will be reissued. Till then, check out the videos, and discover perhaps the best alt-country band you never got a chance to hear. Or if, like me, you were fortunate enough to catch the Blue Shadows back then, take a trip back to those days when you knew you'd found something really special.
Posted by Peter at 8:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)
July 25, 2008
* Avett Brothers re-post
Slight little trick here -- I'm re-posting the Avett Brothers record review, which appeared Tuesday in our Reviews section, to this blog just for the sake of providing a little added exposure over the weekend, till a new blog-entry is ready. Not sure it makes a difference, but just in case folks might not have caught it before it scrolled off the main Reviews list....
--peter
-------------
AVETT BROTHERS
The Second Gleam
(Ramseur)
(NO DEPRESSION.NET) -- The final outing from the brothers Avett on their longtime indie-label home Ramseur Records is a sweet and sentimental farewell, a six-song EP featuring just siblings Seth and Scott (sans stalwart bassist Bob Crawford and recent cello recruit Joe Kwan). It's anyone's guess what their upcoming collaboration with Rick Rubin and American/Columbia will bring -- but here, there are no expectations, only a handful of simple statements about who they are, and where they've been.
The immediate standout is "Murder In The City", a staple of their live sets for the past year or so. Like their early mission-statement anthem "Salvation Song", it reaches to the very core from which everything else springs for the Avetts. The title is misleading: Though it's taken from the first line of the song, what follows the hypothetical scenario -- "If I get murdered in the city" -- is a series of observations about the things that truly matter in life. For the Avetts, it's family first and foremost; after heartfelt references to their father and mother and sister, they conclude by declaring, "Always remember there was nothing worth sharing like the love that let us share our name."
Scott sings lead on "Murder In The City"; Seth is out front on the disc's other highlight, the opening "Tear Down The House". It's similar in tone; both songs find the brothers looking back on the bedrock roots of their past as they embark on a grand but unknown future. Seth sings of "the house that I grew up in" and "the woods that I ran through" and "the old car that I loved the best," understanding and accepting that these lifelong landmarks must pass, even as they still burn bright in his memory. Essentially the song is about accepting the mantle of maturity, as one of the middle verses underscores: "Ever since I learned how to curse/I've been using those sorry old words/But I'm talkin' to these children and I'm keepin' it clean/I don't need those words to say what I mean."
After that magnificent one-two start, Seth and Scott trade turns on "Bella Donna" and "The Greatest Sum", respectively. Those songs are less direct, more impressionistic but, in their own way, no less emotional or beautiful, buoyed by the brothers' instilled instinct for graceful melodicism. (Download-versions of the EP include an alternate electric take on "The Greatest Sum", plus a bonus cut titled "Black, Blue".) The final two songs, Scott's "St. Joseph's" and Seth's "Souls Like The Wheels", are a slight step down -- they come across more as intriguing sketches that didn't quite fly in the end -- but they nevertheless are perfectly of a piece with the rest of the disc.
Like its 2006 predecessor (the first Gleam EP), this collection, while seemingly a stopgap between major releases, is in fact a fascinatingly revealing up-close glimpse into the heart of the Avett Brothers' artistic axis. In its own way, it's as good as anything they've ever done.
-- PETER BLACKSTOCK
Copyright c. 2008 No Depression Inc. and/or Peter Blackstock.
Posted by Peter at 2:09 PM | Permalink
July 20, 2008
* Pickens party
Forgive the brief political digression -- although this one isn't so much "candidate" politics as just a matter of fundamental matters of national interest. I'm wondering if folks have seen the ads that 80-year-old Texas oilman T. Bone Pickens has been airing recently, in which he makes plain the dangers of our dependency on foreign oil and suggests a plan for significantly reducing that dependence by converting part of our energy blueprint to wind power and natural gas.
I'm impressed with the idea, and most importantly the initiative, the apparent desire to start doing something ASAP, and in a big way. Pickens doesn't really seem to care which candidate supports his plan, he just wants whoever ends up in office to take this bull by the horns. I think he's on the right track, and his willingness to spend a boatload of money to push this issue forward in the national agenda. Pickens' plan isn't the only way forward, but it could realistically be a significant part of the way we wean ourselves off of foreign oil.
Just wondering if others feel the same....
adios,
peter
Posted by Peter at 6:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)
July 15, 2008
* Robert Plant & Alison Krauss, slight return
It's getting near the end of the road for the momentous Robert Plant & Alison Krauss tour, which plays tonight in Cleveland, Ohio; Friday in Lexington, Kentucky; and Saturday in Nashville, Tennessee. A handful of Texas and west coast dates in late September and early October were just announced yesterday (see the list below).
My co-editor Grant Alden reviewed the first night of the tour in Louisville, Kentucky, back in April; I caught the show this past Friday (July 11) in Raleigh, North Carolina. A few observations, then, from the tail-end of the journey:
* This was quite a well-designed and presented show, which I suppose is no surprise, but still I was impressed with the way they used fairly simple but elegant backdrops and lighting to make a basketball/hockey-arena feel much warmer than it actually is. When Krauss and Plant made their entrance just after the band started the opening song, "Rich Woman" -- he from stage left, she from stage right -- and took up residence at their respective microphones, there was both a professional flair and a simple, unpretentious quality to their presence at the fore of the first-rate backing-band. The sound-quality was also far better than is typical for such venues; the difference between this night at Raleigh's RBC Center and the Bruce Springsteen show I caught a couple months ago at the Greensboro Coliseum was like the difference between sunshine and mud.
* While the remarkable makeover to "Black Dog" (with Stuart Duncan's banjo taking the lead riff into spooky deep-south Deliverance territory) and the more straightforward rendition of "The Battle Of Evermore" (the harmonies perhaps informed by a previous duo version by Heart sisters Ann and Nancy Wilson?) were the show-stopping Led Zeppelin-borrowed classics, I was most impressed by the less-obvious but mesmerising rendition of Plant's old solo hit "In The Mood", which they weaved into the traditional "Matty Groves" (with Krauss and Duncan dueling on fiddles) and then back out again into Plant's tune at the end. The musical arrangement beneath Plant & Krauss' harmonies was reminiscent of the spell they cast on the Raising Sand standout track Killin' The Blues (which unfortunately was not in the set list on this night).
* While the exquisite performance of the O Brother, Where Art Thou? traditional number "Down To The River To Pray" -- with Krauss' sterling soprano supported by a remarkably warm backing-vocal trio of Plant, Duncan, and Buddy Miller -- was one of the show's highlights, I couldn't help but think of how that vocal arrangement might have served another O Brother track: "Didn't Leave Nobody But The Baby", which was famously sung for the movie by the trio of Krauss, Emmylou Harris and Gillian Welch. It has, over the years, occasionally been performed in different configurations onstage at festivals such as Merlefest when a couple of the original participants happened to be at the same place, which just made me wonder how it might be adapted to these three unlikely male voices. Perhaps that would've been too gimmicky...but still, I'd have loved to hear them give it a shot.
* T Bone Burnett (who co-wrote "Didn't Leave Nobody But The Baby" with Welch) was the consummate bandleader -- mostly invisible, but always in control. It helps to have the likes of Miller (who occasionally played pedal steel, mandoguitar and autoharp, in addition to his electric and acoustic duties throughout), Duncan (who played seemingly every stringed instrument under the sun during the course of the evening), upright bassist Dennis Crouch, and versatile drummer Jay Bellerose as your subjects, of course. Most of the time, Burnett stayed in the shadows and let the singers and his bandmates shine (though he did take lead on "Bon Temps Rouler" midway through the set, to spell Plant and Krauss briefly). But occasionally his place behind the wheel was clear, as on the Townes Van Zandt tune "Nothin'", toward the end of which Burnett directed the band into dramatic, dynamic blasts that underscored the lyrical darkness to which Plant referred in introducing the tune: "This is a spectacular song for all the wrong reasons."
* Finally, the overriding sense I came away from the show with was that, by digging deeply into the roots of the music from which his pioneering rock band sprouted several decades ago, Robert Plant has found a way to age gracefully. Led Zep reunion possibilities aside, what his explorations into Delta blues and now Appalachian country-folk (and beyond) have given him is no less than a new lease on life, a new way to breathe freely as a musician well past the stoking of the starkmaking machinery. While it's the union of Krauss & Plant's voices that's ultimately the grand creative spark here, and while Krauss herself and all of the backing musicians shine brightly in their respective roles onstage, somehow it's Plant that you end up feeling most like you want to "root" for, or just to be happy for him being able to live this experience. Less than a month before his 60th birthday, he seems radiantly young at heart, dwelling amidst these oldest of American musics.
adios,
peter
P.S. -- Ah yes, those new tourdates:
Sept. 23 -- Starlight Theatre (Kansas City, MO)
Sept. 24 -- Fabulous Fox Theatre (St. Louis, MO)
Sept. 26 -- Cynthia Woods Mitchell Pavilion (The Woodlands, TX)
Sept. 27 -- Austin City Limits Music Festival (Austin, TX)
Sept. 30 -- Rose Garden Arena (Portland, OR)
Oct. 1 -- Qwest Field Event Center (Seattle, WA)
Oct. 3 -- Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival (San Francisco, CA)
Oct. 4 -- Konocti Harbor Resort & Spa (Kelseyville, CA)
Oct. 5 -- Mountain Winery (Saratoga, CA)
Posted by Peter at 12:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)
July 8, 2008
* Half of 2008, in song
Half-year top-albums roundups have always struck me as not quite worth the bother, as it often seems a stretch to try to spotlight ten (or twenty, or whatever number) releases worthy of the kind of year-end-list status that a half-year list is supposed to emulate.
On the other hand, one thing I routinely do throughout the course of the year is to drag specific songs that have really connected with me into a "potential best-of-the-year" iTunes playlist, to help in making a year-end compilation when that time comes. And when opening the field up to specific tracks rather than whole albums, it's somewhat easier to get a quantitative sample that's maybe worth addressing at the mid-year point.
So, with that in mind, here's a look at what songs populate my work-in-progress "2008 Best" playlist so far, just past the halfway point of the year. They're not "ranked" in any order; when I get around to making a year-end disc, it's always sequenced according to artistic and sonic segues, not a "#1 thru #20" sort of stacking. It's too early to figure out what the order might be, so consider this just what the present playlist might sound like in shuffle-mode:
"Always A Friend", Alejandro Escovedo. Hard not to include a song that Bruce Springteen & the E Street Band already took the trouble to learn, a couple months before it even came out. I'd hesitate to call Escovedo's new Real Animal his finest album, but I don't hesitate for a moment in declaring this to be the best "single" he's ever recorded.
"Antarctica", Weepies. In terms of acoustic-based pop, nobody (with the possible exception of Hem) is making more radiant and engaging music at present. Deb Talan possesses one of those just flat beautiful voices; the harmonies and production touches from her husband Steve Tannen help make "Antarctica" as airy and sweeping as its namesake landscape.
"I'll Be Your Mirror", Mike And Ruthy. Another husband-wife duo covers the Velvet Underground on a modest side-project album released during a hiatus from their band the Mammals. Their rendition is simple and folksy, highlighted by the endearing sweetness of Ruth Ungar's voice and Mike Merenda's varied guitar accents.
"Oil Man's War", Kathleen Edwards. The title suggests this song as being more political than it actually is; really it's just the latest in Edwards' series of finely-detailed character-portrait song-stories, along the lines of "Six O'Clock" news or "In State" from her first couple of albums. Yes, there's a certain amount of anti-war sentiment -- though the narrative sounds more like someone fleeing the Vietnam draft days, rather than the Bush-era misadventures -- but ultimately this is simply a story about two people escaping, together, expressed with Edwards' typical emotional urgency.
"Supernatural Superserious", R.E.M. I'd read something in advance of the release of Accelerate which suggested that R.E.M.'s new record really benefited from a re-emphasizing of bassist Mike Mills' backing vocals, and I'd concur that's a big part of what makes this song stand out. Whereas Michael Stipe's voice has somewhat oddly become less appealing over the years (his softer tones frequently seem to have been traded for more hard edges), Mills' voice makes a real difference in turning up the more melodic qualities of R.E.M.'s music, even when he's singing harmony.
"In The Night", Basia Bulat. I'll be surprised if this Canadian artist is not significantly wider-known a couple years from now than she is today; she's already up-and-coming, but she seems fully capable of luring in, say, the million or so folks who were attracted to 10,000 Maniacs. You can hear it in songs such as this, an instantly catchy number that spotlights Bulat's terrific voice and her skill for propulsive arrangements. It helps that she's capable of being quite creative without taking herself too seriously, as this video for the song demonstrates.
"Chip Of A Star", Chatham County Line. There's just something so sprightly about Chandler Holt's simple little banjo riff that kicks off the song, and the joy in singer Dave Wilson's voice as he reaches for the high notes in this heartfelt love song, and the way pedal steel player Greg Readling propels the melody off into the sunset as the song fades out -- it all adds up to one of the most memorable, stuck-in-your-head songs of the year.
"Overture", Abigail Washburn & the Sparrow Quartet. Choosing this track -- which leads off the group's self-titled album -- is kind of a copout, as it essentially summarizes all the songs that follow, with abbreviated passages and snippets and references to the rest of the album's content. Yet it's a fascinating way to get a sense of not only what the full record is like, but also just how versatile these enormously talented musicians are.
"Wrong Guy", Mando Saenz. This is one of two big surprises for me on the playlist, in that I'd heard Saenz's previous work and always felt it to be decent but rarely moving. This track, on the other hand, is nothing but moving -- it's emotional, melodic, graceful, bracing, somehow both calming and on-edge at the same time. Saenz proves himself to be a first-rate singer here, and the interwoven instrumental support is a perfectly steady and rolling accompaniment for the spell he casts with his voice.
"Lonesome Joe", Whipsaws. This is the other big surprise -- a band I'd never even heard of till Tim Easton mentioned a few months back that he was bringing these guys down from Alaska to be his backing band at SXSW. Turns out they're pretty good in their own right, too -- but this song is more than that; it's a damn near perfect ballad. Singer Evan Phillips tells the story of a man the band met in a bar one night who shared his tales of down-and-out life and loss; the mournful pedal steel accents make all the difference.
"Color Of A Lonely Heart Is Blue", Old 97's. It's probably not fair to primary songwriter Rhett Miller that I keep gravitating toward secondary songwriter Murry Hammond's comparatively fewer contributions to the band's albums -- especially since Miller wrote some really great songs on the latest 97's disc, Blame It On Gravity -- but there's just a trance-like magic to this one that can't be denied. For six minutes, Ken Bethea's guitars wend and weave around the beguiling melody; there's a subtle but significant piano running beneath everything that brings it all home.
"Monument Valley", Drive-By Truckers. Quite a few songs from the Truckers' latest, Brighter Than Creation's Dark, probably coulda been contenders, but it's the closing track that keeps making me hit "repeat." The way Patterson Hood and Shonna Tucker's voices meld is a thing of beauty, and Hood's lyrics are typically world-weary and wise: "When the dust all settles and the story is told/History is made by the side of the road."
"I'll Come Knockin'", Walter Hyatt. This one has enormous sentimental value to me. Lyle Lovett covered this song on Step Inside This House in 1998, two years after Hyatt died in the Valujet plane crash in Florida. Hyatt's old Uncle Walt's Band mate Champ Hood (who died of cancer in 2001) unearthed it after Hyatt's death, as Hood explained to me in an e-mail in 1998: "That song goes way back to '71 or '72. Uncle Walt's Band demoed in Nashville around that time. I rediscovered it on about the only reel-to-reel tape that I own. We used to perform it, but it eventually 'slid' out of the repertoire as new stuff came in." Lovett's version is among the best things he's ever recorded; for Hyatt's own version to finally surface on the posthumous collection Some Unfinished Business, Volume One was something special.
"Those Days Are Gone, And My Heart Is Breaking", Barton Carroll. Another mild surprise; Carroll made a name for himself as a sideman with the likes of Crooked Fingers and Azure Ray, but proves himself to be a solo singer-songwriter well worth watching on his disc The Lost One. This tune's a sort of rambling tale set to steady acoustic picking, but Carroll's keen writing makes it easy to crawl inside the song's central character.
"Lloyd's Mom", Tres Chicas. This one's on a benefit compilation album called Musicians For Minneapolis, and is the first recorded evidence of a song the group has been performing live for around a year now. It's one of the best things they've written, largely because of how well it utilizes the voices of all three singers -- Caitlin Cary, Lynn Blakey and Tonya Lamm -- as well as the inclusion of a sparkling piano solo by backing member Sara Bell.
"State Fair", Drunk Stuntmen. Oftentimes I'll close a year-end disc with an instrumental, and this one would have to be a prime contender for the 2008 version. It's the title track of the Stuntmen's latest release, and while it seems sorta out-of-place for them -- Steve Sanderson's vocals are such a central part of the band's identity -- it's just a beautifully played piece that conveys its emotions and dynamics artfully, without a need for words. It's deep, and dark, yet hope shines out between the cracks of that darkness.
adios,
peter
Posted by Peter at 11:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)