The Bangles - Live Pittsburgh, PA 1986

 The Bangles - Live Pittsburgh, PA 1986 - Part 1

 

 The Bangles - Live Pittsburgh, PA 1986 - Part 2

 

One of the most high profile gigs of The Bangles career occurred on the tour for that sophomore album, when MTV taped an entire concert at Pittsburgh's Syria Mosque on October 29, 1986 and broadcast the performance into millions of homes that December. Capturing the group at a peak moment, this concert has since become the most ubiquitous of Bangles bootleg recordings and is essentially the closest thing to a professionally recorded live album of the band in their prime.  From: https://www.wolfgangs.com/music/the-bangles/audio/20011035-7130.html?tid=40083

The Bangles – In Concert at Syria Mosque – Pittsburgh – December 13, 1986. I have particularly fond memories of working with The Bangles, which is probably why I enjoyed this concert so much. I remember doing the video for Manic Monday just before Christmas in 1985 and how we were under pressure to get everything shot and in the can in one day. How the director was under pressure to have it edited in two days, and how the record company wanted to air it on MTV by the start of January. Everything was last minute and, in typical record company fashion, hysterical.
We had no permits to shoot and we had a skeleton crew. We were driving around L.A., pulling up to a series of what looked like good locations. Everyone, including the band, piling out of the van. Setting up and doing the shot, all in less than fifteen minutes. Packing it all back up, and bolting off to the next location and repeating the process over and over, until we had no more sun. It was Gonzo filmmaking. The Bangles were troopers. Nobody complained. We all had a wonderful time.  And even when Susanna attracted the unwanted attentions of the whacked-out homeless guy in Pershing Square, we all pitched in, carted her off to safety and disasters were avoided. We were, for that one day, a little family.
At the time, no one had a clue just how huge Manic Monday would be for the band. There was that unmistakable undercurrent of anxiety that, if this one wasn’t going to make it, it was time to call it a day and do something else. But within weeks it was a different story and there was no looking back. Manic Monday was the turning point for the band. This concert comes a little under a year after that haywire romp around L.A. – and fortunes changed dramatically in so short a time. Still, fond recollections of how things fall together effortlessly when they’re supposed to.  From: https://pastdaily.com/2021/04/21/bangles-live-pittsburgh-1986-nights-roundtable-concert-edition/#google_vignette 

 

Acid Carousel - Eyes Glow

Sloane: “How was Acid Carousel born?”

John: “Acid Carousel was born when I decided to record a few songs I'd had for awhile that I wasn't going to use for the band I was in at the time. I released one of those songs as a single on Facebook where Gus saw it. He commented that he was going to play bass for the band and I just said alright.”

Gus: “Yeah, and eventually I wanted to play guitar too so I did that.” 

Sloane: “Describe your sound in three words.”

Both: “I guess you'd describe our sound as like enamored, sexy pop. (laughs)”

Sloane: “I read that you guys try to stay on a strict release schedule of putting something out every three months. What made you make that decision to work towards a goal like that?”

Gus: “Three months I guess is just the amount of time it takes John and I to get bored of our last release and get antsy to put out something new. We don't necessarily keep up a release schedule that tight, but we just like the idea of always working on a new release. Always.”

Sloane: “Who are some of your main influences musically?”

Gus: “My main peeps I try to draw inspiration from are people like James Brown, Tim Presley, Captain Beefheart, Ray Davies, Can, Serge Gainsbourg, and some heavier stuff like the Damned and Sabbath and things. But we listen to anything we can find so our music tends to sound like a weird blend of all the different things we like.” 

John: “I get a lot of inspiration from Anton Newcombe, The Beatles, mid-sixties Brian Wilson, Brian Jones, Spoon, The Olivia Tremor Control, Syd Barrett, Donovan, etc. I could go on, but we try and draw inspiration from as much as we possibly can.” 

Sloane: “What's your writing process like? Does everyone have a certain "job" in the process, or does it vary song to song?”

Gus: “Writing process is usually all John and I. We'll both write songs to either bring to the group to learn, or we'll bring ideas to each other to help finish. Recording wise its usually just a free for all between us two and a few other people, but generally John ends up writing all the bass lines, which I'll then put drums on top of.” 

Sloane: “Has music always been something you knew you wanted to do? Or do you remember a moment that you realized it was a path you wanted to pursue?”

John: “There hasn't really been a moment in my life I can remember where I didn't want to be involved in a band or just making music. Even through some of the dumb phases I went through in middle school, like thinking I could play football, I was always thinking about how a certain artist might have gotten a certain sound or how I could write music like my influences.” 

Gus: “I guess I started playing music around age 6 and kept playing. Music was the only thing I would consistently be interested in or any good at, so eventually I just stopped doing anything else and made it my full time obsession.” 

Sloane: “So you guys started your own label, 'Get With It Records'. What inspired that and how has that been working from both angles?”

John: “The inspiration for the label was mainly just having a platform to release stuff on. We want to record other bands or release other people's music, but we're always busy working on stuff of our own, or playing shows, so we haven't had time. I also feel like it makes more sense to release on your own label, because then you can do whatever you want.” 

Gus: “Yeah if anyone wants to be our label CEO feel free to hit us up (laughs).” 

Sloane: “If you could collaborate on a song with anyone, dead or alive, who would it be and why?”

Gus: “I wouldn't wanna collaborate with James Brown because that would just be silly, but I'd give my right arm to play in the J.B.'s for like ten minutes.” 

John: “I'd probably wanna work with Brian Jones, he could play anything he wanted and write such amazing parts. We could make a super Middle-Eastern vibe record together, I feel like.” 

Sloane: “Stylistically, were you guys all on the same page about how to dress and how you guys present yourselves? Or was it something that sort of developed into what it is?”

Both: “The street cowboy life chose us, so thats how we present ourselves to the world.”  

Sloane: “How was the name Acid Carousel decided upon?”

John: “I came up with the name Acid Carousel from Brian Jonestown Massacre references. "Acid" being another name Anton Newcombe released a few songs with in the early 90s, and "Carousel" which is a song from the If I Love You EP.” 

Sloane: “What message do you hope to get through with your music?”

Gus: “I guess my songs don't really have any message, they're just a way for me to have fun expressing all the weird things I find entertaining about life.” 

John: “A lot of my songs are about actual experiences I've had or things I see going on around me. There's a lot of memories I write about, just expressing how I feel or felt about those.” 

From: https://www.tumblr.com/pour-allumer/168643532764/interview-john-gus-of-acid-carousel

Sam Phillips - Love and Kisses / Baby I Can't Please You

The meaning behind ‘Baby, I Can't Please You’ has caused a bit of confusion over the years. With its politically charged video that alternates the breakdown of a right wing spy with flashes of Rush Limbaugh's face on a TV screen, most fans assume the song was aimed at the conservative radio host. The lyrics even seem to accuse Limbaugh and his contemporaries of a fear-mongering agenda: "You try to tell the world how it should spin, But you live in terror with the hollow men, Who stun you with their lies, With fever in their eyes as they drown you." 
But, according to Sam Phillips, the possibility of a political interpretation is just that - a possibility. She said in our interview: "It's not specifically about Rush Limbaugh, but it might be about what's wrong with Rush Limbaugh. But that might also be what's wrong with somebody else who's liberal. I try to make them a little bit more human than specific in that sense, so that 'Baby I Can't Please You' is a broader concept. It could be in a love relationship. It could be in a political relationship. Hopefully there are many levels you can take any of my songs on. That is always my aim."  From: https://www.songfacts.com/facts/sam-phillips/baby-i-cant-please-you 

Superheaven - Stare At The Void

 

Upon hearing a band returning from a 10-year hiatus, you might expect them to sound a little rusty. That certainly isn’t the case for Superheaven, who have returned even stronger after an extended break. The Pennsylvania rock band formed in 2008, releasing a handful of EPs under the name Daylight. But it was with the release of their 2013 debut LP Jar that the band began to make a name for themselves—not long afterward, they officially became Superheaven.
 Setting Superheaven apart from other heavier bands in the early 2010s was their embrace of ’90s aesthetics—specifically shoegaze and grunge. Along with a healthy dash of hardcore thrown in, Superheaven’s music provided an intoxicating duality of heaviness, both riveting and dreamy. The group built on this with 2015’s Ours Is Chrome, but shortly afterward began that 10-year hiatus. In the years since, they would get together for one-off shows, but Superheaven’s big return to performing live came in the form of their tour celebrating the 10-year anniversary of Jar, which inspired the band to create new music.
Superheaven, the band’s third studio album, arrives a decade after the arrival of Ours Is Chrome. As much as it is a return to the band’s signature aesthetic, it also shows off how strong their songwriting talents have grown. I had the opportunity to talk with vocalist/guitarist Jacob Clarke and vocalist/guitarist Taylor Madison about Superheaven’s new album, the band’s hiatus, their thoughts on modern audiences being drawn to grunge, and more.

Treble: Playing the 10-year anniversary Jar shows clearly influenced the band, ultimately inspiring you to make new music. Prior to those shows, had there been any discussions about making new material?

Jacob Clarke: Yeah, we were always open to writing new material if it felt natural to us. As we were practicing for those shows, people would bring in ideas or a riff that they had been playing around with. We would jam on those ideas a bit during rehearsals and new songs started to take shape.

Treble: In a 2016 social media post, the band wrote that you were going on hiatus from full time touring to “pursue things in our own personal lives.” How difficult was it putting Superheaven on hiatus? Were there any reservations about that, or were you all really itching to explore other creative outlets/personal projects?

JC: It wasn’t that difficult really. We got to the point where we started to feel that in order to push things forward with the band, we would have to take on opportunities that were inauthentic to who we were. That wasn’t something we were willing to do so it made sense to take a break from touring. I think we were all in agreement that if opportunities came along that we felt good about, we would do them. We’ve always operated by doing what feels natural and right for us.

Treble: Several years after its release, “Youngest Daughter” went viral on TikTok and raised awareness of Superheaven big time. While understandably surprising, how does it feel to have such an intensely intimate song discovered on such a large scale? Additionally, how much of an influence, if any, did this moment have on the band’s decision to make new music?

Taylor Madison: While it’s great that it has resonated the way it has, I’m not sure how many people really connect with the subject matter of the song.  We wrote “Youngest Daughter” so long ago I’m not really sure I even have the same connection to the subject matter now. While it’s great to have all these new eyes on the band, it didn’t really have any impact on our decision to write new music.  That was only going to happen if ideas were coming to us organically and we were all excited about them.

Treble: How did the chemistry in the room feel coming together for a new album? Instrumentally speaking, how does writing work for you guys?

TM: It felt natural. When we were rehearsing for the anniversary tour, pieces of “Long Gone” and “Numb To What Is Real” started to come together. Each idea for a song starts out differently, usually one of us brings in a part and if everyone likes, we start to flesh it out. With “Long Gone” for example Joe [Kane, bassist] had brought in that main riff, which he had been working on outside of our practices. We all were into it, and we started to chip away at building a song around it, fleshing out a melody and lyrics.

Treble: How much of a collaborative process is lyric writing? Is there much conversation regarding how the band’s instrumentation is informed by lyrics, or vice versa?

TM: Generally speaking, if an idea for a song comes from a specific member of the band, they’ll also write the lyrics for the track. Sometimes we’ll collaborate if we need to figure out a melody or how to make it work with the song. Everybody’s approach is different, but I prefer to write my lyrics once the music is all fleshed out. Often when I have a melody in mind for the vocals, I’ll definitely write the lyrics to match and capture a certain feeling that I want the song to convey.

Treble: There’s been a resurgence of grunge and shoegaze over the years. What do you think has led to this renewed interest? What is it about this kind of music that you feel is emotionally resonating with audiences today?

JC: I think rock music in general is seeing a resurgence. Look at bands like Turnstile and what they are doing. There are so many bands that fit the “grunge” or “shoegaze” tags that never got their moment in the spotlight and now these younger audiences are discovering them. I think there is definitely an aspect of a generational shift back towards guitars which has helped drive this. I can’t really speak to what is emotionally driving it, but I like to think that people are just excited about good songs and giving them their due.

From: https://www.treblezine.com/superheaven-interview-look-horizon/

Iris DeMent - Our Town

I was wondering aloud whether the place Iris DeMent had in mind when writing and singing about Our Town was her home town of Paragould, Arkansas, or Cypress, California, where she grew up. It was neither, as I seem to remember Bill Taylor pointing out. DeMent based her song on some back-of-beyond Oklahoma dump whose inhabitants deserved better. I cannot find trace of the name of the town - maybe towns - that inspired her but this was how she described it in an NPR interview:
"I remember passing through this little town that was your typical dead town there in the Midwest, a lot of boarded-up windows, little white buildings with peeling paint, all the life had gone right on out of it.  And that was the first time in my life that I felt a song coming on like it wasn't just me trying to make something happen."  From: https://www.salutlive.com/2021/05/out-town.html

Jellyfish - The King Is Half-Undressed

Jellyfish were the right band at the wrong time. Their first single, The King Is Half-Undressed, in 1991, sounded like The Beatles, Queen and ELO rolled into one – a baroquerock blitz that should have made them huge right out of the gate. But in 1990 they arrived on a scene that was ruled by two trends: boy bands and grunge. 
“Not only did we not fit with the sounds of the time,” Roger Manning Jr. tells Classic Rock, “but it was very clear that what Andy [Sturmer] and I enjoyed writing and collaborating on, our sound and vision, was going further and further away from our generation at that time. But we didn’t really care about scenes. For us, it always came down to the song.” 
Manning and Sturmer met in high school in San Francisco, bonding over record collections and a love of 60s melodic pop. Their first band together, Beatnik Beatch, got signed to Atlantic, then “quickly got lost in the shuffle”. From the wreckage, the two friends formed the nucleus of Jellyfish. 
Of their early days, Manning recalls: “I was working sales at a music store in Haight-Ashbury. I dreaded it, but at least I could make enough to pay for the closet I was living in for a few hundred a month. It was a starving-artist, eye-on-the-prize, but pretty humiliating existence. But it happened to be an existence set in the basement of a recording studio.” Following the lead of studio-hermit artists such as Talking Heads and Tears For Fears, the pair started logging every spare moment demo-ing their songs and learning about recording. 
“We got used to being these lone guns,” Manning says. “A lot of our heroes talked about getting record deals through the demo process, not through playing the club circuit and getting discovered by some record company scout. It was more like, figure out how to make the best-sounding demo you can with the equipment you have, and that’s what’ll seal the deal. 
“That’s what we believed in,” Manning continues. “We didn’t really have a choice, because we didn’t have a band yet. So we taught ourselves all the technology.” Along with their technical forays, the friends were constantly composing. The King Is Half-Undressed began with a verse idea that Manning says was sparked by his brief stint playing keyboards with the Paisley Underground band The Corsairs. 
“They were led by Alan Shalby, who was just this wunderkind. A surfer, a car mechanic and an incredible songwriter. He was like a Beach Boy out of the sixties, but in the late eighties. He was also the big brother I never had to kick my ass creatively. He encouraged me. It was more education than I’d received in any course in music school. 
“So I started The King Is Half Undressed literally just copping this verse feel that Alan had in one of his songs. Of course, I changed the chords and melody. I was very excited about it, and brought it to Andy. In fifteen minutes we finished the chorus together. He came up with that repetitive melodic pattern, and we just sat there, streamlining it. We were both like: ‘Wow, that’s solid!’” 
The evocative title, a play on Hans Christian Andersen’s folktale The Emperor’s New Clothes, inspired a free-associative lyric from Sturmer. In 1993 he told me: “As a lyricist, I try not to edit myself, because I think when you do that kind of Kerouac-type of writing, just blurting things out, that’s the real window to your psyche. 
"It’s like speaking in tongues, and you’ll hit on certain phrases that really resonate. And it’s funny, a lot of people will come up to me quoting some lyric back to me, a line that I wouldn’t have thought would make sense to anybody, and it touches them in some way. The King Is Half-Undressed has an element of that.”
Their demo served as a blueprint for the recording, with two changes. “Our producer Albhy Galuten suggested we try a different feel on the verse,” says Manning, “which led Andy to come up with that Tomorrow Never Knows-type groove. It was intense to watch him perform that live. It was quite athletic. And then Jason [Falkner, guitar] came up with the idea for the vocal interlude section, with those Crosby, Stills And Nash cluster-type harmony vocals. That really sealed it for me. Then we wanted a further departure, where the song came down to almost nothing before we return to the chorus out. ” The end result was insanely catchy, but, at four minutes and with tempo shifts, a challenging spin for radio.
“Every song on [Jellyfish’s 1990 debut album] Bellybutton was completely irrelevant to what was currently going on in commercial music,” Manning says with a laugh. “But all the songs are single-worthy. We were adamant about having a chorus that was some kind of ear worm. The label got behind it. So did MTV. So initially the song came out guns blazing.”  From: https://www.loudersound.com/features/jellyish-king-is-half-undressed 

Faun - Satyros

Emer: So, here we are. Firstly, What impression do you get of playing at Castlefest?

Niel: We have just had our new cd out, Eden, and we are quite proud of it. It’s a nice feeling to be here at Castlefest and to see the people keen on the new album. We love to play at Castlefest!

Emer: Tell me about Faun ‘s new album.

Niel: The album is called Eden, like the garden of Paradise and this is like the main theme of our new recording. On the way to the album we found many aspects of the garden of Eden in the music we play. At the beginning we didn’t have a plan of making a concept album in this direction, but it crystallized that. There are turkish songs where boys and girls are playing in a garden, it’s got a headline like heaven. It is about people telling you that heaven is not on earth. We have come across many songs, also about the aspect and meaning of the apple.

Emer: What is Faun about for you personally?

Niel: Not a difficult but really a great question because many things can be said. We combine instruments from medieval times, from other cultures and try to make modern music, combining it with electronics and percussion. We try to promote a feeling to connect people back to nature, to a spiritual connection with it and with the world.

Emer: This is certainly a very interesting trait of Faun ‘s music, and the content, I personally find, is very simple and straightforward, it goes directly to the point: the simple values of life. It says “enjoy life” !

Niel: oh yeah.

Emer: How is this tour going?

Niel: Autumn will see a long big tour with Eden. A specialised stage show which will be connected to Eden.

Emer: What is your favourite song from Faun?

Niel: woah! Arcadia is my favourite song but is is also very difficult. You know, once I was out of the studio, sitting at home listening to the cd waiting for some kind of feeling. At a certain point I said to myself, “Ok, now I’m gonna listen to it as a record”, focusing on every single track and from the beginning I liked it so much that the album was playing for days in my house! I just couldn’t stop! I think this is the best thing that can happen when you come out of the studio.

Emer: What can you tell me about the instruments that Faun use? I find very interesting the blend of old with the new, of the traditional instruments with the use of electronic frequencies.

Niel: The special message that Faun wants to express would not be possible with the normal setup, like guitars, bass, drums. What we play are traditional instruments such as the nickelharp, irish bouzouki, overtone flutes…all of this give a characteristic sound. And here we have a specialist of drums and percussions.

Rüdiger: I play also Brasilian drums, a very light drum that has also an oriental sound.

Emer: As you said before, if you want to connect people through your music, you need “natural instruments” too…

Niel: We also use electronics of course. Before Faun, I was making ambient, quiet music, taking samples from the woods.

Emer: Through the use of frequencies to get to the underlying message

Niel: Yeah. What I mostly did in the album Eden was using samples of special instruments, like for example the noise you obtain from a bouzouki hitting the body. What I personally find great about the album is that it is very “organic”, you don’t notice the borders between electronics and natural sounds. This was also my goal.

Emer: So they blend together very naturally

Niel: Exactly.

From: https://musicadraconia.wordpress.com/2011/10/18/faun-interview-at-castlefest-2011/

Cornelius - If You're Here

Cornelius — yes, taking his name from The Planet of the Apes character — is a huge star in his homeland of Japan. He never really achieved success in the States, touring only sporadically during the late 1990s and early 2000s behind albums released on Matador Records: '98's Fantasma and 2002's Point. In 2002, I managed to catch Cornelius playing a support slot to Air at a show in Munich. It was one of the best concert performances I've ever seen, especially because of the syncopation of the live music and visual effects. I heard good reports of Cornelius's show last year at Eaux Claires, too, where he played Fantasma in its entirety. So it was a very pleasant surprise to hear that Cornelius is ending a hiatus of 11 years with a new release coming July 1. The video for the first single, "If You're Here," gives you an idea of what he's capable of. It's the best use of coffee, cigarettes and keychains ever!  From: https://www.thecurrent.org/feature/2017/05/30/dj-pick-of-the-week-cornelius-if-youre-here

Bent Knee - Invest In Breakfast

From the cacophonous opening blasts of “Invest in Breakfast,” the first track on Bent Knee’s latest record Frosting, you have some idea of the funhouse of sound the band operates within even if you’re unfamiliar with their back catalog. It’s a song about, um, something (feeling like oregano? Is this relatable?), but the lyrics and not-infrequent use of vocal distortion mostly serve to further scramble the wonky, left-turn instrumentals which frequently bring to mind the fractured disco of a group like Guerilla Toss mixed with just a bit of chiptune influence. “‘Invest in Breakfast’ sounds like an indecipherable cascade of pop-up ads, group texts, and unread email reminders smashing through your screen and reminding you to buy something,” the band aptly shares of the single. Ah, knew it sounded familiar.
It makes sense, then, that the video they’re now attaching to the song depicts a cascade of imagery that’s hard to keep up with, as the band members’ singing faces are imposed over a wide range of stock footage. “I’ve always wanted to put my head on a toddler’s body and squish Courtney’s face with a big gross foot,” adds bassist Jessica Kion, who animated the clip, which might have been better suited with a premiere on Adult Swim.  From: https://floodmagazine.com/96324/bent-knee-invest-in-breakfast-video-premiere/

Los Lobos - Live at Graffiti's, Pittsburgh, PA 1992

 Los Lobos - Live at Graffiti's, Pittsburgh, PA 1992 - Part 1

 Los Lobos - Live at Graffiti's, Pittsburgh, PA 1992 - Part 2

 

Part 1

01 Ay Te Dejo en San Antonio
02 I Got to Let You Know
03 Kiko and the Lavender Moon
04 Let’s Say Goodnight
05 One Time, One Night
06 My Baby’s Gone
07 Short Side of Nothing
08 Just a Man
09 Dream in Blue
10 Wake Up Dolores
11 Anselma
12 Los Ojos de Pancha

 

Part 2

01 Carabina 30-30
02 Wicked Rain
03 Papa Was a Rolling Stone
04 I Can’t Understand
05 Georgia Slop
06 Peace
07 Jenny’s Got a Pony
08 Evangeline
09 Will the Wolf Survive
10 Don’t Worry Baby
11 Marie, Marie
12 That Train Don’t Stop Here
13 Bertha 

 

Michael Fremer: I want to go back to The Neighborhood, which Larry Hirsch recorded. In the sense of documenting a band playing live in a room, that strikes me as your best recording.

Cesar Rosas: Yes, I agree with you. More organic, more of a folk record.

MF: Where does that song dedicated to the children of the St. John of God School for Special Children in Westville, New Jersey come from?

CR: You gotta ask Louie, man. Louie and Dave write 90 percent of the body of work.

Louie Pérez: My wife contributes to many different charities, and she came into the room and I was looking for inspiration and this thing had come in the mail and it was a note card with the name of the school and I thought about what the whole school was about and then just sort of spun this little tale about a kid who has this problem, and then I told David about it and he got really excited and it was just one of those things that wrote itself.

MF: Do you like that record? It's a very different sound for you.

LP: Yeah, it's different. It's us trying to still kind of shake La Bamba — it was kind of like a long process. Our first reaction was to go back to the beginning and retrace our steps because we were all trying to screw our heads back on.

MF: It wasn't comfortable to have a hit with "La Bamba" because it was sort of a novelty item?

LP: Yeah, really. Commercially it eclipsed everything we'd done prior to that. It was the culmination of all of our experience playing in garage bands and then years of playing rock music, putting Mexican music aside, kind of entering the stream again with the punk-rock thing and the whole music community, the comraderie, and making a couple of records and finding ourselves all over the United States, and then all of a sudden, "La Bamba."

MF: Did you feel kind of cheapened?

LP: No, we didn't feel cheap. We didn't lose sight. But everybody kind of had this funny, kind of twisted kind of vision of us, you know?

MF: They kind of tried to put you in a box?

LP: It was easy for them to put us there.

MF: And you had to claw your way out.

LP: Yeah. We could have gone in the direction of "La Bamba" and we could have ended up with "Los Lobos' Mexican Village" in Branson, Missouri, and at that point we figured we had to go back to what we were doing, and I guess La Pistola... was about, like, throwing the proverbial monkey wrench in the works. And then The Neighborhood was kind of an overkill reaction. When we took that thing on the road we had, like, the Marshall amps way too loud 'cause we're rock guys. We wanted to interpret it loud. Then we met Mitchell and Tchad and they helped up to get to another chapter.

MF: You began using the studio as a tool — not just as a place to document the band.

LP: Yeah. We screwed around with technology. We found in Mitch and Tchad people who didn't take it as literally as most people had. They went in and said, “Hey, there's no formula” — we always believed that, you know?

MF: On your earlier records it sounds like the rhythm section is put down first — Jerry Marotta, or Ron Tutt — the beat is put down first and you guys had so much more to give, but you were in a rhythmic straightjacket. Now you have these heavily processed studio records. How do you take these songs and do them live? I guess I'm gonna hear that in an hour.

LP: Well, we've been playing together for so long, and we didn't have a Saturday off between 1973 and 1981. The way we tell it, if you're a Mexican American and you got married between 1973 and 1981, we probably played at your wedding. It's an intuitive thing. We just reinterpret again. As long as we don't beat ourselves up trying to sound exactly like the record... There's a Zen story about how it's better to approximate and maintain all of the soul than to make a lifeless duplicate.

MF: Ah yes. The CD versus LP story.

LP: I think our approach to the studio now is that it is a tool and that it is a different medium — it's all about expressing yourself. The studio is just another way of expressing yourself. Mitchell and Tchad — and I don't think I'm discounting them — they've admitted that they learned a great deal from us.

MF: Have you thought about doing a live album?

LP: Yeah. It's overdue. We kind of reclassified ourselves by the live stuff we threw on the two-CD set. Those things were recorded in Holland using 24-track recorders. Even if it's a radio taping they bring out stuff like that. I think the only way we would do it is if we had some kind of small transport and recorded every night and see what happens.

MF: Well, yeah, you wouldn't want the pressure of recording a one-nighter! And you'd want to do it in a smaller-sized club. So who's your audience today, do you know?

LP: We're not too sure. With our first record we had this huge college following of alternative rockers and we had stage-diving going on. We had hard-core kids and new-wave kids. Then "La Bamba" hit and these kids went, “Well, they're not cool anymore.” Then that went away and we kind of found ourselves in this funny kind of grey area again. You see, when we first made our way across town to play in the Hollywood clubs, like when we opened for The Blasters, they couldn't understand what was so exciting about us. They were like, “Stage diving?!” It could have been The Circle Jerks up there. And then back home [in East L.A.] everybody said, “What are they doing over there?”

MF: Isn't that amazing? In the United States you go across town and all of a sudden its, “What are you doing there?”

LP: Yeah. And with "La Bamba," with our audiences, we kind of felt like we were in the same place again, where there were all these people coming to see our show expecting to see "The Ritchie Valens Show," and it didn't happen. And we had all the others — the core following — going, “Okay, next!”

From: https://trackingangle.com/features/los-lobos-america-s-band-the-tracking-angle-interview

 

Country Joe & The Fish - I-Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin'-To-Die - Side 1

01 - The Fish Cheer & I-Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin'-To-Die Rag
02 - Who Am I
03 - Pat's Song
04 - Rock Coast Blues
05 - Magoo

I-Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin'-to-Die is the second studio album by the influential San Francisco psychedelic rock band Country Joe and the Fish, released at the end of 1967.  The album was released just six months after the debut and is another prime example of the band's psychedelic experimentation. It again features organ-heavy psychedelia and Eastern melodic lines, with more acoustic guitar than the debut. During this time, the band continued to build on their growing reputation by performing at local venues like the Fillmore Auditorium and appearing at festivals including Monterey Pop and The Fantasy Faire. The album, as a whole, fit well in the Bay Area psychedelic scene. The band effectively used satirical humor to express their outspoken views toward the Vietnam War and other hot topics of the counterculture. 
Three songs—the title track, "Who Am I?" and "Thought Dream"—were all written and performed before the debut album. The title track remains one of the most popular Vietnam protest songs from the 1960s, having originally appeared in folky acoustic form on their October 1965 EP Songs of Opposition on Rag Baby Records. It was originally considered for the debut album but held over by producer Samuel Charters on account of its controversial lyric. On the album, "I-Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin'-to-Die Rag" appears following "The Fish Cheer", which at concerts became a Country Joe standard. At Woodstock, Joe had the crowd yell F-U-C-K instead of F-I-S-H. "Who Am I?" had also been recorded for the initial Rag Baby EP but left off. Another of the more well-known numbers is the charming waltz-time track "Janis", which opens side two and was written for McDonald's then-girlfriend Janis Joplin. It is one of a number of songs written for female musicians included on their albums, others being "Grace" on the debut in honor of Grace Slick as well as "Pat's Song" for Pat Sullivan and "Colors For Susan" for flautist Susan Graubard of Pat Kilroy's group The New Age. "Magoo" was named after a local Hell's Angel's leader.
The front cover photograph was taken by Joel Brodsky at a New York studio where many costumes were lying around, which the band decided to wear. David was a wizard, Joe was a soldier and Barry chose a Nazi uniform, although the swastika on his armband was later replaced by Vanguard with an American flag. The original album sleeve contained a poster for "The Fish Game", a huge 22 x 33-inch fold-out board game sheet for throwing a dice and moving five three dimensional paper cut-outs of the band members around. Various goals are available for the game such as "scoring a joint".  From: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I-Feel-Like-I%27m-Fixin%27-to-Die
 

The Tea Club - Big Al

So, in a nutshell, modern Progressive Rock is very divided at this point, I believe. Some of the bands out their truly are still trying to push the musical envelope in new and interesting ways, and others are, well, just riding the coat tails of the real pioneers. Basically, the Progressive movement of today consists of obvious imitators, one-hit wonders and then the bands that actually succeed at taking music further. As I listened to The Tea Club's release, General Winter's Secret Museum, the question I had to ask myself was simple: which of the three categories do these guys truly fall into?
Well, obviously The Tea Club hasn't been around long enough to stagnate, so the second category can be ruled out immediately. But what of the band's integrity? Do they really care about the genre and treat it with the proper respect? Do they look at music from the right perspective, and most importantly, does their sound stand out enough to be considered a valid part of modern Prog? I am happy to say that after several intense listens of this album, the answer to all of those question is a resounding 'yes'!
So why do I love this band? Well, for starters, they have managed to make me feel moved in ways I didn't realize were still vulnerable. I've heard so much music that considers itself 'prog' by this time that I'm always forced to stand back and take notice when a certain combination of notes or rhythm can surprise me in such a way. Those moments happened quite frequently with me as I listened to General Winter. Also, I love this band because they aren't afraid to write and play what they want. It's very clear to me that none of these tracks were ever written with the intent of being the next radio sensation. There is virtually no immediately accessible content to be found here, which is in no way bad. However, I was very surprised that not one song sounded commercial. A lot of indie bands try to release at least a couple of works that are aimed at conventional audience's short attention spans, but not these guys; they know what they want to say through their art, and accept us sure as hell isn't it! It's all about the music with The Tea Club, no doubt about it.  From: https://www.progarchives.com/album.asp?id=20605

The Far Meadow - Prove It Then / Hang On / Industry

The Far Meadow were founded as a five-piece rock combo in London by Eliot Minn (keyboards), Paul Bringloe (drums), Paul Mallatratt (bass), Jon Barry (guitars), and Nok (voices). The band grew out of the remnants of 'Blind Panic'. Under this name the band didn't release any music and, soon after, the name changed to The Far Meadow. They released their first album entitled "Where Joys Abound" in 2012, not too long afterwards, Nok, Jon Barry and Paul Mallatratt all left the band, to be replaced by Keith Buckman (bass), Dennin Warren (guitar) and vocalist Marguerita Alexandrou. In this new line-up The Far Meadow released "Given The Impossible" in 2016 and "Foreign Land" in 2019.
The band played under the influence ranging from the classic rock and prog of the innovators (Yes, Genesis, Rush, Focus, Soft Machine, Deep Purple, King Crimson, Gentle Giant, et al) to the contemporary torchbearers who keep the music alive (Spock’s Beard, Flower Kings, Rocket Scientists, Dream Theater, and many more), together with an added dash of funk, soul, classical, jazz, a twist of blues, and an extreme splodge of general mayhem and insanity.
Whilst all the other members of the The Far Meadow had had experience playing in bands previously, and it's clear when you listen to them play each member of the band really knows his instrument, for Marguerita to front a band was a wholly new experience. "I didn't actually start singing until I was 32, and I'd never sung in a band before. I made my stage debut with The The Far Meadow at the Resonance festival in 2016, and I was really very nervous, but the band helped me get through it."  From: https://www.progarchives.com/artist.asp?id=7682 

Gold Dust - An Early Translation of a Later Work

Gold Dust are more than a band. They’re a family. In a time of greater isolation and existential anxiety, they form a vital community. It wasn’t always this way. Gold Dust started four years ago as a solitary solo endeavor – a way for Western Massachusetts musician Stephen Pierce to branch out from his roots in DIY punk and explore a longtime fascination with traditional folk and psychedelia. After releasing two records, 2021’s self-titled and 2022’s The Late Great Gold Dust, Pierce welcomed new voices into the fold. Their collective effort, In the Shade of the Living Light, is the story of four people at a crossroads in their lives. They may never find the answers, but they have found solace and unconditional support in one another. 
Joining Pierce are Ally Einbinder (guitar, formerly of Potty Mouth), Adam Reid (drums, of Nanny), and Sean Greene (bass, of The Van Pelt). As a four-piece, Gold Dust springs out of the cloistered interior and transforms into a dynamic force. In the Shade of the Living Light embraces you with captivating guitar squalls and warm vocal harmonies, steady rhythms, and an innovative blend of influences, from traditional folk to West Coast psych, alternative punk, jangle-rock, and ‘90s college rock. 
“I look at this as a band starting to figure out who they are by leaning into regionalism,” Pierce says. “That's something that I miss, when different parts of the country and world would have distinct sounds and musical movements coming out of the communities, usually having something to do with their surroundings, be it geographical or cultural. Our rural part of the state is so culturally different from the more metropolitan part of MA; I've been pretty intentional pulling together from all the various music from around the world that influences me and tie it to something specifically evocative of rural New England.” 
Just as much as Pierce has given Einbinder, Reid, and Greene a creative platform and emotional sanctuary, the rest of the band have likewise encouraged the guitarist to push himself to release this collection. Initially, Pierce never thought he’d want to record the deeply personal tracks that make up In the Shade of the Living Light, a title with regeneration in mind and inspired by the writings of 11th century philosopher Hildegard of Bingen.  From: https://golddust.bandcamp.com/album/in-the-shade-of-the-living-light  

Sunflower Bean - Champagne Taste

So, you’ve been making music as Sunflower Bean for around a decade, and your fourth album ‘Mortal Primetime’ reflects that time. How do you feel you’ve changed as individuals and musicians over the years? 

Julia: I feel like the first big change was around the pandemic, because that was when our lives changed. ‘Human Ceremony’ and ‘Twentytwo In Blue’ followed the indie rock thing where you tour for a year and a half, make a record in six months, and then you go and tour that. That was the first time we got out of the schedule and realised that there was no schedule that needed to be upheld. We then went from being a band that was known mostly for our live stuff to people who became more focused on just our writing, because that’s what we were doing. It was basically all we could do. It led to writing like, a billion songs for ‘Headful of Sugar’, and that change stayed with us. Now, with ‘Mortal Primetime’, I think that we all felt like we were able to sit in ourselves a little more, be comfortable with those changes that were made and how we wanted the record to reflect that. 

If you were to reintroduce yourselves at this stage, how would you define Sunflower Bean as a band and your overall sound? 

Nick: Well, ‘Mortal Primetime’ was pretty much made the opposite way of ‘Headful Of Sugar’, which was done over the course of two years. We were making tons of demos and using a lot of modern music production techniques like copying and pasting choruses, sampling drum loops and lots of MIDI. That was really fun to experiment with and a lot of great stuff came out of it, but some less great stuff came out of it as well. The thing about our band that’s special is the fact that we’re three people who came together organically through a music community. We had a location and a scene, and we’ve played together for over ten years. We have this live chemistry that we’ve developed within our city and our city’s music culture. We really wanted to capture that special quality on record. 
So, to make ‘Mortal Primetime’, we rented a studio and played live together in a room. We recorded almost the entire record in fourteen days. Everything was live. We treated the recording like we were going to tape, so every performance is unique. Every guitar take is full, and you can really feel the three of us in the room playing together. It’s an organic record that was made in a way that’s closer to how an album would have been made in 1965 than how albums are made today.

Julia: With all of that context, if I were to try to reintroduce us, on paper I would say that we’re an indie-alternative power pop band [Nick: Maybe not indie!]. I don’t know, people feel weird about that word. But one thing that we’re not is a post-punk band [Nick: That’s true]. Which I think is funny, because that often makes people not quite sure what to do with us in itself, as they’re so used to post-punk being the defining sound of rock at this time. But the footnote to that would be we are artists who are trying to keep the band tradition alive through our own organic experiences. What we’re fighting against is homogenous music culture and anti-creativity in production. We’re trying to fight for something real. All of our records have been trying to do that. That’s one of the most important things about our discography to me. It’s humanity, I guess.

Nick: And then record labels will say that means “hard to market”. 

That’s an interesting point because you’ve been described as a band that defies definition, blending different influences and largely being “unclassifiable”. Was this your aim or a natural outcome of having a variety of tastes that contribute to your sound?

Julia: I feel like that part of the discussion is so loud, it sort of puts us in a position to have to explain ourselves. People are so used to singular artists that they aren’t used to what a band having different influences can create. The way that I describe it is that we think of songs as very individual. We have a song called ‘Champagne Taste’ on the record, and then the record ends with ‘Sunshine’. If you were to look at those genre-wise, you would say ‘Champagne Taste’ feels like an alternative rock song, but ‘Sunshine’ feels like a My Bloody Valentine shoegaze song. In my mind when we’re working with those songs, what’s interesting to me is the dissonance in both of the guitars and the fact that they feel as though they’re about to veer off the edge. It’s the tension that keeps it connected. 
Perhaps what happens is we aren’t thinking in the genres. In fact, when we recorded ‘Mortal Primetime’, we made sure that we used the same group of instruments and the same mics on the drum kit. We wanted to make sure that the songs would be literally related through using all that stuff, so that there was a small amount of variation that could occur at all. It’s something that we definitely think about, though it’s not our intention to be everywhere. I hope that the things that keep the songs connected to us really come through.

Nick: Honestly, maybe I’m having an epiphany right now, but it’s just an old school band thing. If you go back and look at a lot of classic rock records or classic records in general, they are so varied in their sound. There are so many bands that have mixed heavy music with ballads and acoustic music. Every single one of our records has had a wide range of influence and a wide range of sounds, and while we’re making them it’s never even come into question for us. We love all different kinds of music. I guess the most classic album ever made is ‘Sgt. Pepper’s’ – think about how varied that is. They use tubas and stuff!

From: https://www.clashmusic.com/features/i-knew-love-sunflower-bean-interviewed/

Spiral Guru - I, Machine

The fourth EP in the 10-year history of Brazil’s Spiral Guru, who also released their Void long-player in 2019 and the “The Fantastic Hollow Man” single in 2021, Silenced Voices is distinguished immediately by the vocal command and range of Andrea Ruocco, and I’d suspect that if you’re already familiar with the band, you probably know that. Ruocco‘s voice, in its almost operatic use of breath to reach higher notes, carries some element of melodic metal’s grandeur, but Samuel Pedrosa‘s fuzz riffing and the fluid roll of bassist José Ribeiro and drummer Alexandre H.G. Garcia on the title-track avoid that trap readily, ending up somewhere between blues, psych, and ’70s swing on “Caves and Graves” but kept modern in the atmosphere fostered by Pedrosa‘s lead guitar. Another high-quality South American band ignored by the gringo-dude-dominant underground of Europe and the US? Probably, but I’m guilty too a decade after Spiral Guru‘s start, so all I can say is I’m doing my best out here. This band should probably be on Nuclear Blast by now.  From: https://theobelisk.net/obelisk/tag/spiral-guru-silenced-voices/ 

Rod Stewart - Gasoline Alley

I’ve said it before, but Rod Stewart’s fall from grace remains one of the saddest and most precipitous in rock history. In the early seventies the rooster-cropped, sandpaper-voiced party animal who took nothing seriously was fronting one of the greatest live acts of all time, the Faces, while simultaneously putting out solo albums that were heart-breakingly brilliant. And then? I wish I could say nada, but his post-1974 (hell, make it post-1972) output was far worse than nothing—it was flat-out debasing, both to Stewart and his fans.
It can be argued that his fans were anything but disappointed by swill such as “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?” After all, the song did slither to the top of the Billboard Charts. To which I can only respond that nobody deserves such fans, and had Rod come to his senses he’d have made the best out of a bad job and laughed it off (to use his own words), ideally by sending each and every person who bought the abominable “Sexy” a letter telling them to bugger off. Instead the song’s success just encouraged the worst in Stewart, who turned himself into a veritable treacle machine until his muse deserted him (wisest thing it ever did) in sheer disgust, leaving Rod to torture us all with album after album of dull standards from the dreaded American Songbook.
Finding the present unbearable I sought solace in the distant past, and Stewart’s 1970 sophomore solo album, Gasoline Alley. I’ve never so much as listened to the damn thing, as I already possessed what I assumed were the LP’s premier tracks on various Stewart compilations, and it turned out to be a pleasant surprise, combining (as was Rod’s wont in those days) rock’n’roll, R&B, and folk rock in the form of a few originals along with covers of songs by the likes of Bob Dylan, The Valentinos featuring Bobby Womack, Elton John, and Ronnie Lane and Steve Marriott of the great Small Faces, which had already morphed (with Ronnie Wood and Stewart taking Marriott’s place) into the equally great Faces.
Gasoline Alley is one gritty and hardscrabble LP, without so much as a hint of the slick and sleazy cocksman Stewart would slowly transform himself into, much in the same way Jeff Goldblum turned himself into an oversized insect in 1986’s The Fly. From opener “Gasoline Alley,” a Stewart-Wood collaboration so evocative you can almost smell the petrol fumes, Stewart plays his familiar role as down but by no means out wayfarer, and relies for assistance on the stellar playing of one fine assemblage of musicians, including Faces’ band mates Lane (bass and vocals), Wood (guitar), Ian McLagan (piano/organ), and Kenney Jones (drums), as well as the likes of mandolin savant Stanley Matthews, classical guitarist Martin Quittenton, and a host of others.
Anyway, to get back to the mid-tempo title track, it relies on one great electric guitar riff, some superb acoustic guitar and mandolin playing, and Stewart’s inimitable rasp to communicate Stewart’s desire to return to his origins in rough and tumble Gasoline Alley, “the place where I started from.” In this it has much in common with such Elton John classics as “Honky Cat” and “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road,” and if you find the comparison absurd, well, all I can say is it behooves you to listen to some of John’s early material, because once upon a time the dude in the ridiculous glasses really had it goin’ on.  From: https://www.thevinyldistrict.com/storefront/graded-curve-rod-stewart-gasoline-alley/

Sarah McLachlan - Fumbling Towards Ecstasy

You said that it took about six years to learn how not to edit yourself and remain open in your music…

(laughs) Hopefully I’ll get that back again someday.

What kinds of things can a songwriter do to reach that place in their writing?

Well, for me on this new record, it was mainly secluding myself, being away from society and being away from everything. I locked myself up in a cabin in the mountains and stayed there for seven months. It was just an amazing time for me to really focus on a lot of stuff that had sort of been lurking behind the scenes in my brain, but never had the time to come out. Or it kept being put aside, because there were so many distractions. Also I think, I got incredibly in tune with the earth, with nature, like I hadn’t before. I couldn’t write a thing for three months. My brain was eating itself. It was terribly cold out and I couldn’t do anything creative. I was just frozen.
Everything was churning around inside but nothing would come out. Then spring happened and everything totally opened up. I was blossoming as well. Most of the songs–I had written four previous to going to the cabin–were written then, about seven of them, between April and May. The place that I got to in myself of feeling calm and peaceful and also for the first time in my life, feeling I’m happy now. Not ‘I would be happy if . . . ‘ There was always that going on with me. I finally got to a place where I was totally happy and peaceful and living in the present tense instead of in the future, you know and projecting things.

Did you go into that experience with any sort of agenda?

Well, in the process of not being able to write, I kept a journal, these sort of morning pages. I wrote three pages before I’d do anything else, just to try and clear my head. Most of it was totally banal like mmm, coffee smells good, I have nothing to say, I have nothing to say (laughs) for ten times. But sure enough, about midway through the second page, sometimes I’d really open up and all this stuff would come out. You know, you’re not really awake yet and you’re just sort of spewing whatever’s on the top of your head sort of free form. And there was no editing happening there at all, because no one was going to read this book. I could say whatever I wanted. I didn’t have to hide behind anything, and I think that really helped me. To be really open and honest with myself, that was good. I’m pretty good at deceiving myself or I’ve known myself to do that in the past (laughs).

Did you listen to music while you were there?

I listened to a lot of Tom Waits, and Talk Talk’s Spirit of Eden, which is one of my favorites.

The opening lines of your songs are always captivating and they seem to contain the germ of the whole song in just a few words.

I figure the first two lines usually tell the whole story of a song (laughs). The first two lines are what comes out first when I’m writing, and they basically tell which direction, for me lyrically, the song is going to go. Sometimes those two lines will sit for months by themselves, until they find a completion to the story, or a completion to the stage that I’m in of trying to work through something, until hopefully I’m somewhere near the other side of it, when I can be a little more objective and write it down. It’s the same with titling the songs. Most of the song titles come from the last word in the second line (laughs).

Say you have those two lines and the music wants to continue. Will you let it go on without words?

Unfortunately, I often try to fill it in. I’m sort of still a bit stuck to that convention of writing a song with a four-line verse, the more traditional phrasing of a stanza or whatever. So if there are only two lines, there usually end being four lines. I work at making it four before I stop (laughs). But there’s also this thing, when I go in the studio, Pierre (Marchand, her producer) is great at editing. He’ll say, why don’t you just not sing that line, do you really need to say that, you kind of already said it. He has done that, which is something that I can’t really do, because I’m not as objective about it. And I don’t see things from the same direction that he does, which is why he’s so good to work with.

Do you demo songs before you go into the studio?

Well, I demo them in a very simple way, with acoustic guitar or piano. Sometimes a drum machine. But my sort of restrictions on myself for going into the studio are making it strong by itself in the simplest form. So if you’re hiding behind a lot of production, if you take it away, you can still play that song and it’ll still be strong on its own.

You mentioned a drum machine. Do you ever write with just a groove?

I have never have before. I’m pretty lazy as far as technology, and I think it’s something I’ll probably have to get more into, because I’m sort of exhausting the instruments that I’m using, or exhausting the inspiration that they give me. I can go back and forth, but I don’t have a piano, so I end up doing a lot of stuff on guitar. But when I was in Montreal I did, so a lot of this record came from piano because it was such an exciting thing, a new sound, a new instrument. That happened with electric guitar as well. I started writing with that, because it was a new sound. So maybe I will get into the drum machine. I just have to learn how to use the damn thing first (laughs). I always fight against technology. I want to be grass roots and I want where it comes from to be organic.

Well it sounds like you have a good combination with your producer, because he strikes me as a technically minded guy…

Oh, he’s amazing that way, because he’s such a techno-head. But at the same time, he totally comes from the organic sense of letting the song happen in whatever direction it goes in. Just following and not pushing the song for any wrong reason, whatever feels right go with it.

A lot of your songs have an air of mystery and darkness. Is there something you do during the writing process to conjure this mood?

(laughs) I just think it’s what’s in my brain. It’s not that I’m really pessimistic or anything–I’m not. But I sort of like the effect of two sides of things–one being really pretty and one being really ugly, like when you lift up a pretty rock and there’s all these mites and worms underneath it (laughs). I think that sort of came from this one poem I read in grade nine. It’s funny, the little things that stick with me my whole life. Wilford Owens, he’s a World War I poet and he wrote about being in the field in the war and all the horrors that went on. But somehow, without glamorizing or romanticizing it, he made it incredibly beautiful. In the same breath, he’d be talking about something horrendously grotesque. I just really loved that. That’s actually where the title of the record came from too, “Fumbling Towards Ecstasy.” It was taken from a line in one of his poems. “Quick boys, in an ecstasy of fumbling we fit the masks just in time . . .” and I thought that was amazing, that “in an ecstasy of fumbling.” It was so beautiful, and since grade nine I’ve been trying to fit that into something (laughs). I sort of have a little library of phrases and words in my head that I like. Like “murmur.” Never been able to use it yet, but it’s a beautiful word. I like words that say so many things. Language is such a beautiful thing and words are so amazing.

From: https://addictedtosongwriting.com/sarah-mclachlans-walden-pond/

Lo-Pan - Savage Heart

Lo-Pan is an American hard rock band from Columbus, Ohio. The band has been praised for its "ability to write a driving, catchy rock song in a well-established aesthetic while still sounding original, vibrant and exciting," and for "performing heavy rock that's at once infectious and distinctly ambitious." Their most recent album, Get Well Soon, was released in April 2025. 
The band formed in 2005 with bassist Skot Thompson, drummer Jesse Bartz, and guitarist Brian Fristoe. Singer Jeff Martin joined the following year. The band shares its name with a villain in the comedy-martial arts film Big Trouble in Little China. Lo-Pan started with a stoner rock sound but have since added elements of traditional hard rock and heavy metal.  From: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lo-Pan_(band) 

Rickie Lee Jones - Gravity

Debbie Millman: 
One of the things I loved reading about was how you loved The Beatles so much you had a Beatle haircut, Beatle boots, Ringo rings, you collected Beatles trading cards that came with sheets of bubble gum. You felt that if you could not have Paul, you would be Paul, and your love of The Beatles seemed to really help you undergo a social and spiritual metamorphosis, and rock music at that point became your Bible. But one thing that I loved was that you didn’t want to be a girl singer or The Beatles’ girlfriend. You wanted to be a Beatle, and there’s a big distinction there.

Rickie Lee Jones:
 That’s the key, isn’t it?

Debbie Millman:
 Absolutely.

Rickie Lee Jones:
 And maybe that’s the calling. I just don’t know, but I could never have settled for any of the roles that were offered to the girls. It was just automatic that I would be them.

Debbie Millman:
 Over the course of your early life, in sort of preparation for your career, you had a number of incidents that you turned down, which took a lot of bravery and courage. And the first was when you started singing, your dad was so impressed with your ability, he took you to an audition for the Lew King show, which was a local television talent show, and you won. But then a decision had to be made that really did impact one direction that your life could have taken. Can you talk a little bit about that?

Rickie Lee Jones:
 Sure. The Lew King Rangers show was, like you said, a talent show for kids. Who is the famous guy in Vegas, [singing], what was his … he was a star on that show. I auditioned and I was a good singer as a kid, but they told my parents that they would have to buy an insurance policy if I was going to be on the show. An insurance policy was just gangsterism. It would’ve cost a lot of money, from what my parents earned. When we were driving home, I was in the backseat, and I remember this so well, lots of talking, lots of talking about it. Then finally they put it back in my hands and said, “If you really want to do this, we’ll find a way to do it.” And I said, “No, I don’t want to do it—it’s wrong what they’re doing,” and I turned down what I lusted for, which was not only to be on television, but to sing in front of people.

Debbie Millman:
 You write that the Lew King show and that decision was your first lesson in the dark corners of the music business, where favors are exchanged and sins offered up as collateral. You go on to state, of the many exercises and integrity you have achieved or endured or failed, this was your greatest. Why is that?

Rickie Lee Jones:
 Because I was a little kid and didn’t have the years that come as you get older, the years of reason. And I instinctually knew it was unethical, but a little kid wants what they want. So I think it’s a harder decision for a little kid to make, maybe not.

Debbie Millman:
 You describe how that decision really gave you a compass of sorts, which is the one that comes to children who sacrifice their dreams for family, and all around you, your childhood was slipping away. But you write, to your North, you had a dream and only one direction you could call your own. Was that when you knew you wanted to be a professional musician?

Rickie Lee Jones:
 I knew that I wanted to entertain. I wanted to act, I had been in tap and ballet. I was also swimming, hoping to go to the Olympics. So whatever I was going to be, it was going to be a self-made thing, not a thing I went to school to learn to be. It would be on my shoulders.

Debbie Millman:
 Yet when you tried out for the school choir, you were turned down.

Rickie Lee Jones:
 Yes.

Debbie Millman:
 Not only were you turned down, but the music teacher singled you out in front of your friends and stated that your voice was too unusual and would not fit into his chorus. How do teachers like that even exist?

Rickie Lee Jones:
 He kind of looked like a Marine. They’re just kind of people that are about everything being the same. Why they’re in the arts … I think there were a lot more of them in the arts. He was teaching everybody that if they wanted to be in music as a profession, they’d have to sound like this and sing like this, and maybe they’d get a job in this choir. You remember in the mid to late ’60s, choirs were very popular. They all sang in unison. So that was the job you could get, and I was like, “That is not the job I’m going to get.” But that hurt really badly.
Yet, he was right. My voice was different. There was something about me that seemed to piss teachers off, and they very unceremoniously sent me on my way. Maybe even at 12 or 13, I had a personality that was singular and meant to be a star on stage. I was not ever going to be in the choir. I always liked that little girl who did the long bow. I would always separate myself somehow, but they could have been so much gentler with me. It’s a longshot.
The people who become famous are longshots. They’re the people that teachers and most people around them go, “This guy’s never going to amount to anything,” because we are finding our way to a different plateau entirely. In that realm, we would be a bum; we’re not meant to be there. We’re meant to be up there. Since so few people make it, I guess, are able to define themselves and sell themselves as a singular new and different, because so many people want the same, same, same. So they treat you so badly. It’s a miracle that anybody who’s a little bit different ever achieves anything that they’re meant to achieve, I think. Yeah, that guy was a bad guy. He really hurt my feelings. He meant to hurt my feelings.

Debbie Millman:
 And that’s the part that makes it cruel.

Rickie Lee Jones:
 Yeah.

Debbie Millman:
 Your childhood was abruptly and forever altered by your brother’s injury. At that point you described your family life as something like a nuclear submarine waiting for the signal to destroy all known life. But music became an even stronger solace for you, and you write how Jefferson Airplane was on your turntable every day. Buffalo Springfield, Jimi Hendrix, Vanilla Fudge, and The Mothers of Invention were frequently played. You also love show tunes, particularly from West Side Story. You go on to describe how Jefferson Airplane’s Surrealistic Pillow seemed to be at the eye of a storm you longed to be part of. What storm was that?

Rickie Lee Jones:
 Well, outside of my house, the hippies were growing. They’d been growing since ’65 and ’66. There’s an article in LOOK or LIFE Magazine about them on LSD, and little slices of them out there, and their long hair and Indian headbands. So first it’s a look that invites a child, but what they’re talking about, peace, protest, that’s way lower on the list. I wanted to be part of all that love and attention. They would have love-ins. There was a love-in or something in Encanto Park. I wanted to be there so bad. Well, all it was was people standing around. It wasn’t anything like what the title … I thought something magical would be happening in there. But nevertheless, I was drawn out of the family circle and all that trouble and drama to a larger picture that maybe I could find a place in.

Debbie Millman:
 The last song on Side A of Surrealistic Pillow, “Comin’ Back to Me,” was my favorite. You taught yourself how to play the guitar, sounding out each note one phrase at a time by ear. How did you feel when you realized you could play it?

Rickie Lee Jones:
 It took so long, so many weeks of practice, and memory, and getting … the fingers would hurt so badly pressing on those little steel razors. Then finally I could make that beautiful motion walking down from the C to the A minor. And when you’re making music, it’s like you’re weaving reality. You’re weaving places. You’re bringing the … it’s magic, and bringing these feelings into existence out here before you. Oh my God. I had longed to do it and I was doing it. That’s all I can say about that. It was pretty wonderful.

From: https://www.printmag.com/podcasts/2021/design-matters-rickie-lee-jones/