Sparklehorse - Dog Door

 #Sparklehorse #alternative/indie rock #alternative country rock #lo-fi #slowcore #psychedelic rock #animated music video #stop-motion #Quay brothers

Although its name suggests the presence of a full band, Sparklehorse was essentially the work of singer/songwriter Mark Linkous, an alumnus of the mid-'80s indie band the Dancing Hoods. A tenure in the Johnson Family (later known as Salt Chuck Mary) followed, as did stints sweeping chimneys and painting houses. He began working as Sparklehorse in 1995, honing his spooky, lo-fi roots pop in the studio located on his farm in Bremo Bluff, VA. After a demo made its way to the offices of Capitol Records, Linkous signed to the label and issued Sparklehorse's acclaimed debut, Vivadixiesubmarinetransmissionplot, scoring an alternative radio hit with the single "Someday I Will Treat You Good."
In early 1996, after a Sparklehorse concert in London, Linkous nearly died when he passed out after mixing Valium with prescription antidepressants. He spent 14 hours unconscious on his hotel's bathroom floor, his legs pinned under the rest of his body, and the prolonged loss of blood circulation nearly left him crippled. Many months and countless surgeries later, he was quite literally back on his feet, and his recovery provided inspiration for 1998's Good Morning Spider. Linkous then collaborated with PJ Harvey and the Cardigans' Nina Persson on 2001's radiant It's a Wonderful Life. In between that album and 2006's Dreamt for Light Years in the Belly of a Mountain (which featured contributions from Tom Waits and Danger Mouse), Linkous contributed songs to the soundtrack of the film Laurel Canyon and produced Daniel Johnston's 2003 album, Fear Yourself.
The next Sparklehorse project was truly an ambitious one: a multimedia sound and art gallery done in conjunction with Danger Mouse and filmmaker David Lynch called Dark Night of the Soul. The project featured several singers, including James Mercer, Gruff Rhys, Jason Lytle, Julian Casablancas, Frank Black, Iggy Pop, Nina Persson, Suzanne Vega, Vic Chesnutt, Scott Spillane, and David Lynch, whose photographs made up the 100-page accompanying book. Although slated to appear on the Capitol label in 2009, Dark Night of the Soul ended up dry docked by a legal dispute between EMI and Danger Mouse. Dark Night of the Soul was left marooned as an adjunct hostage in a complicated legal entanglement. Copies leaked out in different configurations, but it became apparent that Dark Night of the Soul's legitimate release was in serious jeopardy. Cutting his losses, Linkous instead turned his attention to a collaborative project with laptop artist Christian Fennesz. The two had previously recorded music together in 2007, and excerpts from those sessions were packaged together, forming the 2009 release In the Fishtank. As of early 2010, Linkous had moved to Hayesville, NC, and was reportedly nearing completion of a new Sparklehorse album. On March 6 of that year he was visiting friends in Knoxville, TN, when he committed suicide at age 47 by shooting himself in the chest with a rifle.  From: https://www.allmusic.com/artist/sparklehorse-mn0000008549/biography

Well she's as mean as a needle
Don't get too close to the heater
She's like a mean shop keeper
Who got an extra gun
She about 6'4" and she's a wrecking ball
Now go ahead and kiss her
She brought the bad weather with her
She got you coming through the dog door
She got you coming through the dog door

Now pigs get fat hogs get slaughtered
You ought to walk away
Well you can't but you ought to
Climb the rickety stairs
She got the long black hair
But don't sit there
Electricity chair
She got you coming through the dog door
She got you coming through the dog door

Pitchfork
Crowbar
Claw hammer
Hot tar

She's got ruin in her name
But she can make it rain
She's a small town jail
And she's starving in the belly of a whale
She got me coming through the dog door
She got me coming through the dog door

Pitchfork (Pitchfork)
Crowbar (Crowbar)
Clawhammer (Clawhammer)
Hot tar (Hot tar)

Light in Babylon - Baderech El Hayam

 #Light in Babylon #Michal Elia Kamal #world music #Mediterranean folk #ethno folk #Turkish folk #Middle Eastern folk #music video

The Ingathering: What’s the band’s story, did you get started playing on the streets?

Michal Elia Kamal: We started playing on one specific street, called İstiklal Avenue [İstiklal Caddesi, or Independence Avenue], not everywhere.

Specifically just that one street in Istanbul?

Yes, İstiklal Avenue, it is a very special place. We started around 11 years ago in Istanbul on İstiklal Avenue, which is in the city center near Taksim Square. It’s very specific and a very special place. That was in 2009, almost 2010, and that moment was also a very good time in Turkey, culturally. Istanbul was chosen to be the cultural capital of Europe, and that period was like a golden time. It is not like that anymore, by the way, but then it was a place with a really big potential for musicians, and artists in general. İstiklal Avenue is a huge avenue with no cars. There are more than two million people passing through there every day. It is very crowded, very touristy, and it was like an artists’ avenue. You had bands playing there—even half-organized—proper bands brought their equipment and put on concerts. You had a puppet show. It looked like a festival. It was not an organized festival, but it was like that every day. It was so intense.

Is that where you met Metehan Çifçi (Mete)?

I wanted to learn music, and I wanted to start my own project. I traveled in India, worked a bit in Europe, and decided I was going to dedicate my life to music. I had even already looked at music schools in Israel. But I looked around, and many of my friends studied music in Israel. I saw them struggling, actually. They are really high-level musicians. They put a lot of money and effort and study into it, and I didn’t see them achieving what they deserved. That changed my mind a bit, and I thought that maybe music school was not the place for me.
I continued to travel. I passed through Turkey almost by chance. It was just before I was about to go back to Israel to figure out what I was going to do, and I just discovered Istanbul. I discovered it not only in a musical way, because it was also a place that’s attractive to me in a much more personal way, too. I arrived in Istanbul, and I started to feel my heart beat. I arrived at İstiklal Street, and I asked my friend — I was with a Turkish friend — I said, “Is this like a holiday or Independence Day or something?” And she told me, in this heavy accent, “No, this is Taksim, baby.” Something was happening there. That was normal, every day. I saw all the musicians, everybody was playing, and I realized that this was the place for me.
I had met Julien, and together we were thinking about building up a project. I knew I could find musicians in Istanbul. Julien said, “There’s İstiklal Street, let’s play there a little and see how it goes. Maximum, it doesn’t work.” We rented a small room in a neighborhood nearby. We earned a little money. Then he said, “There’s this one santur player. I saw him play solo on İstiklal Street. He’s very shy. He doesn’t speak English. But he’s really, really good. We need to find him.” Every day, we went to İstiklal Street, and finally, we found him. We approached him — I had my own songs already that I wrote — and we said, “Can we play?” He said, “Yes,” and I think that moment was when we played our first song as a band. We didn’t know Turkish. He didn’t know English. But it was like, bam. At that moment, something was created. A crowd started to form, and that was the very first moment, 11 years ago. It was like this magical moment, like the spark was there, and all the rest is history. We played one song, a second song, and 10,000 songs since then.

You had instant chemistry.

Yeah, I don’t think that’s happened to me before or after like that. I don’t know what it is in Mete. He’s Turkish, but today he’s family, after all we’ve been through.

What language do you speak with him?

At first, we spoke with our hands, plus a little English, and a little Turkish. Now he’s learned English. I taught him English, and he speaks English like an Israeli [laughs]. We’ve also learned Turkish. Nowadays, we speak English and a bit of Turkish. But in the beginning, we started from scratch. It started from music, which is the main thing. I think it’s what’s beyond language that makes the connection. Even Julien, he’s from France — today he is my husband — I am Israeli, Persian, and Jewish. But the three of us, we say we are dreamers, and that’s what we had in common. We had this culture of dreamers. We decided to go out from our comfort zones, and achieve some inner dream or inner wish, and to take that risk. Choosing music as a lifestyle is a risk. Playing in the streets is a risk. It is not conventional. That was the first thing that brought us together. It was very clear. You didn’t even need to explain it in any language. It was something that was very clear for the three of us, and that’s why it worked.

You said you’re Persian, do you speak Farsi, too?

I understand Farsi, but I don’t speak it that well because I grew up in Israel. I was born and grew up in Tel Aviv. My parents spoke Farsi at home, but I didn’t speak it. People who came to Israel from Iran had to leave something behind. They realized that they were not going back there. That was also something my parents realized. They ran away from Iran so I would have a better future and have a normal life. I am very grateful for that. I have singer friends in Iran, and it is not a place I want to be. I think my parents made a decision to sacrifice something so I would be able to integrate better in Israel — that my first language would be Hebrew and that my first identity would be Israeli.

But did you hear Iranian music around the house?

Yes. You need to sacrifice something, but there are some things you cannot take out. I grew up in a Persian home, with the huge carpets, Persian music, and only Persian food. I think that is why I found myself, eventually, in Istanbul, because it is like a bridge for me. It’s my personal bridge between Iran and Israel. When you grow up in Israel and come from an Iranian family, you grow up in a sort of conflict. My parents told me about a world that doesn’t exist anymore, because it’s the Iran from before the revolution, and today Iran is something else. I also think my parents were conflicted. They came from Iran, but at the same time they are Jewish and Israeli.
That conflict for me is not only between being Israeli and Iranian, but it is also a conflict between east and west. I grew up in Ramat Aviv, which is a very good neighborhood in Tel Aviv and very Ashkenazi. I was the only Mizrahi in my class in my school. I was always very different, and I grew up in a very Mizrahi and Iranian home. On one hand, I enjoyed the privilege of growing up in modern society, in Israel, where women are more empowered, for example. It gave me confidence as a women in this world, and all the benefits you get that come from the west, including the education. But on the other hand, I still have the rich culture from home — the colors and the smells and the music and the warmth and all this stuff they brought from Iran.
I think that is also a conflict you find in Istanbul — between east and west — and sometimes, it’s not always a conflict. It isn’t always a negative thing. It’s a positive thing. It’s a mix. It’s something that is always there, the question of identity, and it is something I speak about a lot in my music. However, after 10 years of meeting people from all over the world and making music and having fans from many religions and cultures and countries — including countries I can not even enter — I am learning more and more about the common things we do have. Maybe it sounds like a cliché, but east, west, Jewish, Muslim, Christian — we all have a choice. Every individual chooses, and takes responsibility for his own choices. It doesn’t matter what his background is. In every language, we feel love, or anger, it is something we all have, and we have a choice, to either choose the positive side or to chose the negative side. That is something that I found in many people, and I find it again and again at every concert.
About the question about identity, that is getting blurrier with time. Not blurry — it is always inside me — but it is becoming less important. For me, Mete is not a Turkish guy from a Muslim country, to me, he’s family. His religion or his background isn’t relevant, because you have a different kind of connection with the person. He’s a human being. But why is that connection possible? Because he made a choice similar to my choice. And then you spread that to a big amount of people and fans.  From: https://theingathering.substack.com/p/light-in-babylon-and-the-universality

The Nields - Snowman

 #The Nields #Katryna & Nerissa Nields #folk rock #contemporary folk #alternative rock #indie rock #Americana #1990s

Where do you start with the Nields? Let's say that for twenty years you've wanted to write about the Nields, to help spread the word about their music but also to solidify your sense of why that music is so compelling, so worth your time. Where do you start? You could start copy-editorially. For example: There once was an indie folk-pop-rock band from New England called the Nields, and their name involved a grammatical joke. The band's principal members were the sisters Nerissa and Katryna Nields. Nerissa's husband, David, changed his last name from Jones to Nields and played guitar in the band. They called themselves the Nields. No matter how many people named Nields form a group, however, they collectively aren't the Nields. To be the Nields, they would each need to be named Nield. An "s" makes Nield plural. Since in reality they are each named Nields, together they are the Nieldses, "es" making Nields plural. The Nieldses might hang out with the Robertses and keep up with the Joneses. (If Nerissa, Katrina, and David had all been named Jones, they'd probably have named themselves the Jones.) Of course, you can understand why a band wouldn't want to go by the unwieldy name of the Nieldses. Why would they want to go by the ungrammatical name of the Nields? It's funny! A group of indie folk-pop-rock New England young people follow the lead of, say, the Osmonds, who were brothers, or the Ramones, who weren't. But in this case having a cool-or-at-least-coolish-sounding name means embracing a grammatical error. In this way the Nields resemble the long-defunct indie pop band Let's Active, whose name was meant to convey a faulty translation. Or they might be distant cousins to Led Zeppelin, who embraced the power of a spelling error because it looked, you know, heavier. So much for copyediting. Alternatively, you could start with the Nields personally. For example: For a couple years in the early '90s I lived in the same cozy corner of western Massachusetts as the Nields, or the Nieldses, or Nerissa and Katryna Nields and their bandmates. The name the Nields popped up frequently in that area, the Pioneer Valley, to the point of being annoying. I imagined their music was annoying too: cutesy, cloying, crunchy-folky.
By the summer of 2001 I was living in Manhattan and finally saw the Nields perform as part of a series at the base of the World Trade Towers. The Towers stood on an inhospitable, perpetually windswept concrete plaza with terrible acoustics. I have trouble believing that the Nields, homespun hometown heroes of the Pioneer Valley, played in that incredibly unlikely spot, below the twin phalluses of capitalism, but I know they did, I didn't dream it, because at their merch table after the show I bought their 2-CD set Live from Northampton (2001). Through the years that I'd lived in Amherst, MA, I'd spent time in nearby Northampton, but never set foot in Northampton's Iron Horse Music Hall, because no one I wanted to see ever played at the club. Now, years later, I proudly owned a live album recorded there. After seeing that phenomenal show at the base of the World Trade Towers, which was sort of like seeing a band of hobbits at the base of Sauron's tower (hobbitses, Gollum calls 'em, at least in the movies), I urgently wanted to support the Nields because as people they seemed so nice and genuine, because their songs were so catchy and inventive, and because I needed to hear more of the sisters' breathtaking, otherworldly harmonies. I remember asking at the merch table which of their recordings sounded the most like the show I'd just heard. On September 11 of that year, the World Trade Center was destroyed. At some point after that, I wrote to the band and thanked them for their show, which had humanized a forbidding location and left me with--at long last! and in the end--a warm memory of that place. Nerissa sent me a charming reply, saying the show had meant a lot to them too.
It was only in writing this piece that I discovered that Nerissa and Katryna's roots are in New York City. And if you started with the Nields historically, you'd visit their Wikipedia page and website (https://nields.com; see also https://nerissanields.com), then present facts such as that they formed in 1987 and have released, as of this writing, 20 recordings, from the out-of-print 66 Hoxsey Street (1992) to the state-of-the-state, furiously political November (2020). Their Wikipedia page and website and Discogs fudge on that discography, though, because some of the recordings are by the Nields and some are credited to Nerissa and Katryna Nields. In any case, if you were starting musically, you could discuss any or all of those recordings, which are so sparely and tastefully produced that they still sound fresh. You might say that Gotta Getta Over Greta (1996), their bid for mainstream success, rocks and makes the band's Beatles influence explicit with a fun cover of "Lovely Rita." Play (1998) unexpectedly draws on alternative rock and psychedelia, name-checking Ani DiFranco but drawing on equal parts Throwing Muses and Buffy Sainte-Marie--and if you think I'm kidding, sample the kickass, weirdass, rhythmically off-kilter track "Tomorrowland." If You Lived Here You'd Be Home Now (2000) trades alternative rock for classic rock and employs a wide instrumental palette. Live from Northampton, the final recording by the original five-piece Nields, provides an excellent career overview and lively introduction to the Nields' special blend of influences, powerful playing, and impassioned vocals.
The description folk-pop-rock might lead readers to think they know what the sisters' music has sounded like all these years, but prior experience with other music of this kind doesn't convey just how ferocious, somberly beautiful, or playful the Nields can be or how attentive to textures they are; these aren't your average strumming or picking folkies. Nor, more importantly, does it tell you what happens when Nerissa and Katryna sing. The sisters' voices individually display great flexibility, but in harmony those voices seem to draw strength from each other. With my untutored ears I can't tell whether they ever aim for the same note, but the notes they hit seem harmonically suited yet tending in different directions, sort of like Kate and Anna McGariggle's harmonies but wilder. The image that comes to mind is of two violins, with each bow at the same place on the same string yet angled in its own way so as to inflect the note. Meanwhile, the making of that note conveys joy, which becomes ecstasy as notes lead into higher ones. The characteristic Nields sound is of two voices swooping effortlessly, like birds barely having to flap their wings as they ride air currents. On the sisters' recordings over the decades, they gain greater and greater control over that motion.  From: https://www.furious.com/perfect/nields.html

Mu - Blue Jay Blue

 #Mu #Merrell Fankhauser #psychedelic rock #folk rock #psychedelic folk rock #1960s #1970s

In 1969, Merrell Fankhauser and Jeff Cotton formed MU together with Fankhauser's old bandmates from the mid sixties group Merrell and The Exiles. Cotton (aka Antennae Jimmy Semens) had left Captain Beefheart with three broken ribs after the exhausting experience of recording Trout Mask Replica. Their only album, Mu, was released 1971. After a couple of singles on their own Mu Records, they moved to Maui, Hawaii, in 1973. Larry Willey did not want to move, and Jeff Parker replaced him. In January 1974, they began work on their next album (The Last Album), but broke up before it was released when Cotton and Wimer left to study religion.  From: https://rateyourmusic.com/artist/mu

Well recorded psychedelic avant-prog blues record that actually doesn't work like blues at all. With a clean and full sound and songs made of the strangest dissonant blues licks and riffs, Mu delivers a record that doesn't remind me of anything I've ever heard before. You can hear the broken-up composition style of Captain Beefheart (of which the bass player originated) and yet it's totally different music. Another feature is the CSNY-like vocal harmonies on some of the tracks. On other tracks the vocals are more creepy.

Imaginative, intelligent, rhythmic and diverse music with a deep spiritual feeling to lift your heart, mind and body: Look at the sun, look at the moon, brother we are one. This album is like a time tunnel to the good aspects of the sixties: a mystical warm vibe, the feel of being connected to everyone and everything, respect to human and animal life and the living in touch with nature. Long live Mu, the mythical continent of Lemuria!

From: https://rateyourmusic.com/release/album/mu/mu/reviews/3/

Maria Muldaur - My Tennessee Mountain Home

 #Maria Muldaur #folk #blues #country #jazz #folk rock #Americana #pop rock #1960s #1970s

In autumn 1962, the young blues fanatics Joe Boyd and Geoff Muldaur arrived at the Cornell Folk Festival in Ithaca, New York, too late to hear the performers they’d come to see, Doc Watson and Sleepy John Estes. As Boyd recounts in his memoir White Bicycles, they stuck around for a post-gig party where the musicians and fans unwound and sang old gospel tunes. “We noticed a dark-haired beauty with a long black braid accompanying the Watson party on fiddle or keeping time with a set of bones. Geoff was too shy to talk to her, but swore he would marry her.”
The young lady was the Greenwich Village-born Maria Grazia Rosa Domenica D’Amato, and she did marry Geoff, performing with him in the old-timey Jim Kweskin Jug Band, and eventually recording two albums as a duo for Reprise Records, 1969’s Pottery Pie and Sweet Potatoes in 1972. By 1973, their marriage was over and Geoff joined Paul Butterfield’s band Better Days just as Maria Muldaur’s career was about to skyrocket. She recorded her first solo album, supervised by two men she called “the dynamic duo,” her old friend Boyd and Warner/Reprise staff producer Lenny Waronker. “I had heard what Lenny did for Randy Newman and Ry Cooder, and I just loved what he could do with acoustic material,” she told the writer Jacoba Atlas. “There’s a total presence there that a lot of acoustic bands miss.” Boyd, who’d produced Pink Floyd, Nick Drake, the Incredible String Band and Fairport Convention, among others, once told the British writer Penny Valentine his job was simple: “I just keep anything bad from happening. I keep the path clear, love the music I’m working with, and have the experience in my ears to know what doesn’t sound right.”
A spectacular group of musicians was brought in for the sessions, including guitarists Cooder, David Lindley and former Byrd Clarence White, drummers Jim Keltner and Jim Gordon, fiddler Richard Greene, pianists Dr. John, Jim Dickinson and Spooner Oldham, Bill Keith on banjo and steel guitar, and Klaus Voorman, Ray Brown and Chris Ethridge playing bass. It’s difficult to imagine a better combination of talents for the situation.
Released in August 1973, Maria Muldaur is a potent blend of country, blues, folk and pop, and it still sounds fresh. Muldaur wasn’t a songwriter, but her instincts for picking material were spot on. She gave crucial exposure to several unknown or under-appreciated songwriters, including Kate McGarrigle (“The Work Song”), Wendy Waldman (“Mad Mad Me” and “Vaudeville Man”), Dolly Parton (“My Tennessee Mountain Home”) and David Nichtern, whose “Midnight at the Oasis” became Muldaur’s sole Billboard top 10 hit when released as a single.  From: https://bestclassicbands.com/maria-muldaur-solo-debut-album-review-5-19-20/

Alice Donut - Madonna's Bombing Sarajevo

 #Alice Donut #punk rock #psychedelic punk rock #hard rock #alternative/indie rock #1980s #1990s

Alice Donut is a psychedelic punk rock band originally from New York City. Formed in 1986, the band spent the next ten years touring relentlessly throughout North America, Europe and Japan, building a perversely loyal following. Creem Magazine described Alice Donut shows as “the most decadent punk rock-fueled all-out orgies I ever witnessed.” Between 1987 and 1996, Alice Donut released seven full-length albums and 15 EPs, singles, and other releases on Jello Biafra’s Alternative Tentacles label and various other labels. 2004’s Three Sisters, their first record after their hiatus, was recorded as a four-piece with Tom Antona on vocals, Michael Jung on guitar, Stephen Moses on drums and Sissi Schulmeister on bass. Original guitarist Dave Giffen rejoined the group for Fuzz, which was recorded in Brooklyn’s BC Studio with longtime co-producer Martin Bisi and released in 2006. Both Three Sisters and Fuzz were released by Howler Records.
The band’s style and lyrics are eclectic. Their music is a mixture of hard rock, punk, and post-punk and typically features melodic, guitar-heavy, odd-metered, and rhythm based pieces and is often punctuated with brass instrumentation. Many of the members are traditionally - or classically -trained musicians, though rarely on the same instruments they play in the band. Alice Donut’s lyrics take on what they view as the perversities, odd details, and petty humiliations of life. Their lyrical subject matter focuses on topics including depravity, domestic violence, sexuality and eggs.  From: https://alternativetentacles.com/artists/alice-donut/

Alice Donut was one of the core bands of Alternative Tentacles back in the late '80s and early '90s. Their first album catches them at their rawest, but also their most fun. Musically, Donut's style has much in common with the psychedelic punk style of the Butthole Surfers, but I regard Donut as being the more straight-up fun-to-listen-to of the two. The Surfers are great, but in a different way. Alice Donut's work is better informed by a sense of humor and a lively attitude than the Surfers, who usually come off as being much darker and more serious. However, this does not mean that Alice Donut does not pack some weight - in keeping with many Alternative Tentacles bands, Alice Donut follows in the footsteps of the Dead Kennedys with their lyrics - heavy sarcasm, but always socially and politically relevant.  From: https://www.amazon.com/Bucketfulls-Sickness-Horror-Otherwise-Meaningless/dp/B00005YELH 

Suddenly, Tammy - Hard Lesson

 #Suddenly, Tammy #alternative rock #indie rock #alternative pop rock #piano rock #1990s

Siblings Beth and Jay Sorrentino began making music from about the age of five. In their Lancaster, Pennsylvania home, Jay would play drums while Beth sat at the piano. Bassist Ken Heitmuller also began playing early on. In 1989, the trio formed Suddenly, Tammy! and recorded two EPs in their basement studio. With the absence of a guitar player, the band provided a fresh sound in indie pop. Both Spokesmodel and El Presidente were well-received, especially in the College Music Journal. Indie label spinArt's first release was the group's own full-length debut. The self-titled album did well and earned Suddenly, Tammy! a spot supporting Suede. Signed to Warner Bros. in 1994, the band recorded throughout the summer and released We Get There When We Do in 1995.  From: https://www.allmusic.com/artist/suddenly-tammy%21-mn0000489735/biography

HEARSAY: We love the way your music seems to allow a lot of improvisation within a certain structure. Do you have a method when it comes to songwriting? Is it primarily a three-way collaborative affair or do you each work on separate parts and bring them to the rest of the band? Are the lyrics exclusively Beth's department?

Beth: Usually we get together and play and many songs grow out of listening; sometimes I bring some ideas I've sketched out on the piano and sometimes with lyrics - many times an idea will grow out of having all of the instruments together and the music just 'clicks' together.

Ken: I'd say that the lyrics are exclusively Beth's department. Her words are always somewhat autobiographical and I'd never presume to put words into her mouth.

Two other notable bands who manage pretty well without guitars - Morphine and Ben Folds Five - seem heavily jazz-influenced. Has jazz been a big influence on ST? Do you all listen to similar things? And do you have any current recommendations for us?

Beth: Personally, I've developed a taste for jazz over the last few years, although I grew up with jazz records (Ella Fitzgerald, Dave Brubeck) mixed up with the Doobie Brothers, Chicago, Carole King, Barbra Streisand, Elton John, Billy Joel - all kinds of stuff. Our band seems to reflect some of all of that from time to time, including more current music - I listened to a lot of Kate Bush in the 80s. Right now I recommend Young Chet Baker and I'm listening to Elton John's Greatest Hits (with Rocket Man, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road...); the best.

Ken: Have you noticed how Beth over-uses hyphens and semicolons and I over-use all-caps and exclamation points? (We both overuse parentheses (well maybe a little (JUST a little!))). Personally, I claim little from jazz. Although I own more jazz recordings than the average jazz fan, I know so little about the genre. I know enough to claim that it's probably the most difficult music to be good at - yes, even more than classical music. To be a good classical musician requires mostly athletic dedication. Rock requires mostly that you really mean what you're doing, even if you suck. Jazz requires music knowledge, innate or schooled, skilled playing with finesse, and style. I'm very flattered when people make jazz references to Suddenly, Tammy!

Your self-titled debut album was tightly packed and highly chromatic. The follow-up seems more tranquil somehow and perhaps more structured. Was this deliberate? Was it anything to do with the move to a major label or the introduction of an outside producer? Or perhaps working in a concentrated burst in a professional studio rather than working at home over a long period?

Beth: Probably all of that is true. I don't really hear the album as 'tranquil', but that's probably lack of objectivity! River, Run is certainly quiet, but Hard Lesson always makes me a little hyper. Working at Bearsville was a departure from home; I think the sound of the album reflects the whole experience.

Why did you choose Warne Livesey as producer and what was he able to bring to the project? Was his role to 'realise' your ideas or did he add something new to the creative process?

Beth: Mostly because of his enthusiasm for the music – he was concerned about keeping the band 'organic' – keeping the three-piece sound clean; using acoustic pianos; more of a 'live' sound. We worked very closely with him, but his influence does come across on the album.

Suddenly Tammy's lyrics always seem alluringly oblique and more about specific imagery and particular moods rather than telling a straightfor­ward story with concrete meaning. Do you find things in everyday life which inspire you to write songs or do you prefer to tackle more abstract themes and ideas through specific angles? The theme of uneven relationships or power seems to appear fairly frequently. Is this a theme that particularly interests you or are we clutching at straws here?

Beth: Things in everyday life became abstract themes for me. Something that seems to be so 'normal' (a ride in the car, a talk with my mom) can turn into very strange mixed imagery in my mind – relationships and the problems within are always being sorted out in my lyrics.

Ken: Knowing Beth, I clearly see what many of her lyrics are about. Sometimes the meaning is very clear. She is not too literal, however, with her words. The things she sings about often seem to have a multilayered meaning. This allows for many interpretations and people often apply her words to their own situations.

And there's a kind of dream-like, hallucinatory – sometimes even vaguely unsettling – quality to lots of the songs (Mt Rushmore, Bound Together, Beautiful Dream etc). Do dreams and/or nightmares influence you? Do you feel lost when you're asleep and found when you're awake, or is it vice versa?

Beth: For me, many dreams are clues, sometimes, to things that bother me during my waking hours sometimes (I guess) I suppress thoughts about disturbing issues, and a lot of my 'bad' dreams leave me with many questions and images, which seem to unfold sometimes only when I play music, accounting for the lyrics, possibly.

Ken: Sometimes Beth drives when she sleeps – a sleepdriver.

What images unfolded on the Cine film you sat down to watch In the middle of your first album? Do you have any favourite films or directors and do they influence your writing?

Beth: I don't remember what movie that was; Ken had his projector running. He shows movies in his yard over the summer. I have many favorite films – 2001 is a great movie to watch outside in the dark on Ken's lawn! I also love Hitchcock films and Searching for Bobby Fischer is one of my favorites.

Ken: I think it was The Cat in the Hat by Dr Seuss. It's the Lancaster Public library's copy and is now half splicing tape. Every few seconds the action jumps ahead like a skipping record. I recorded the sound from that film, with that first tape recorder, as a child. It was splicey then. When I borrowed that same print fifteen years later, I recognized the locations where the music skips from the 15-year-old splices – and noticed it to be much more dashed up since then. I don't think people realize that a print of a half-hour 16mm film costs about $500 to replace. Soon, that Seuss will be only 15 minutes long! It makes me sad that kids today won't know that SOUND! That lovely purring of the Bell and Howell Filmosound in the back of a darkened classroom. It puts our Beth right to sleep.

From: http://www.hearsaymagazine.co.uk/suddenly_tammy/

The Dead South - OurVinyl Sessions / Paste Studio NYC

 

 OurVinyl Sessions

 

 

 

Paste Studio NYC

 

 #The Dead South #folk #bluegrass #roots music #contemporary folk #acoustic #live music video

 

The Dead South, the four piece from Regina, Saskatchewan, whose high energy take on bluegrass has won them deserved plaudits, are back on the road. When last in London two years ago they played to a packed out Brixton Academy. This time it was the Shepherd’s Bush Empire, a majestic old theatre on four levels, where The Dead South’s dedicated fans again turned out in force for what felt like a homecoming. The standing room seethed while those above gave the balconies a good shake as all participated in what felt at times like a kind of revival meeting. That sense of cult, in a nice way, was intensified by the many fans who matched the band’s sparse pioneer look of big hat, white shirt, black trousers and braces. These folks looked as if they’d come in from a day in the fields rather than the Central Line to Shepherd’s Bush. They came looking for togetherness and a show of furious intensity. They were not disappointed.
The Dead South have had a few line-up changes but are now back to the quartet who formed the band a decade ago. Traditional bluegrass has branched out into alt-bluegrass, jamgrass and all manner of derivations as many outstanding bands have taken bluegrass in new directions. Where The Dead South have carved their own furrow is in the sheer simplicity of their style that drives in part from their punk roots. Acoustic guitar, mandolin, cello and, of course, banjo, with a kick drum for rhythm is all they need. They look the part with a deep sense of darkness about their lyrics that in some cases come across as almost a pastiche on traditional bluegrass. Whether that is the intention or not (in some songs it probably is), the show is blistering. All four put every ounce of their musical ingenuity and sheer energy into their performance. The stage setup is similarly stark. What look like four stained glass windows are spaced out along the back of the stage with corresponding low light from the storm lanterns in front of each of the four mic stands. The absence of any drum kit, keys or amplification turned the stage into a kind of dark secret meeting place, which in a way, it was.
House lights off and the rendezvous with these mysterious players from Saskatchewan was underway. A menacing banjo abruptly stopped for a tantalising few seconds as frontman Nate Hilts rasped, “My baby wants a diamond ring” in a voice that sounded as if it had been soaked in a vat of whiskey for years. On guitar, Hilts duelled with Colton Crawford’s banjo as mandolinist Scott Pringle and cellist Danny Kenyon harmonised on the chorus. The Dead South were back.
“Hello, we’re The Dead South” announced Hilts politely, if slightly unnecessarily. He was among friends. Thus began a setlist played mainly at ferocious pace, punctuated with precipitous drops of speed, that spanned the Dead South’s three studio albums. A newcomer, if there were any, might have felt rather overwhelmed by the sheer pace as songs could seem to blend into each other. For others, a Dead South show is the perfect way to let off a bit of steam and after a two year furlough, why not? But live, The Dead South convey the incredibly skilled musicianship as they recount the stories, usually bleak, that make their albums so compelling.  From: https://americana-uk.com/live-review-the-dead-south-shepherds-bush-empire-london-18th-march-2022

Bluegrass Situation: “Diamond Ring” doesn’t end well for one of the characters, which is common in bluegrass. What story were you trying to tell in this song?

Nate Hilts: It’s a story of a man who’s trying to appease his partner. She finds that a diamond ring would make her happy and so he is going to do whatever he can to make sure that he gets that diamond ring for her. And it turns out to be a tragic ending, of course. Just like all of the songs I write. [Laughs]

Did you know it would end so gruesome?

NH: You know what, no! But when you’re doing a video it’s like, yeah, we need a body count!

Videos have been a crucial part of your career. Do you find that that’s been a good way to be introduced to new fans?

Colton Crawford: Yeah, I think so. We had our first big splash with the “In Hell I’ll Be In Good Company” video. So I think a lot of our fans discover us through YouTube. I think like our songs work well with music videos, too. They’re cinematic and “soundtrack-y.” We’re definitely inspired by film soundtracks and Tarantino and Spaghetti Westerns.

Are there filmmakers that inspire you or that really resonate with you?

CC: Clint Eastwood for sure. Tarantino for sure. Even those old B horror films, Wes Craven and that kind of stuff.

NH: You could give us an array of movies and we’ll find stuff that we like about it. Who did Drive?

CC: That was Nicholas Winding Refn. That movie is all about the atmosphere. I think our songs are kind of like that too.

Was there a certain encounter that triggered you to write “Blue Trash”?

CC: Lyrically, yes. [Laughs]. This one was a lot of fun for me because the verses and the chorus are the same banjo part. It’s just the choruses are played in halftime with that shuffle feel, but it’s the same thing. I do a couple of different bends and stuff like that. I came up with that slow part first and wanted to “Scruggs-ify” that slow part, so it was a lot of fun.

NH: But lyrically that song was triggered by listening to a purist group on Bluegrass Junction that was dismissing bands like us, who aren’t quite pure. You know, we stem from bluegrass, but we do our own thing with it. And this song we heard was basically telling us to go away.

CC: “Blue Trash” is sort of like a cheeky love letter to bluegrass. It’s a bit of a response to that.

NH: It’s not a hateful or hurtful response. It’s more like, you know what, we’re here and we love bluegrass music.

So what’s your response when someone’s like, “Well, they don’t play bluegrass…”?

NH: “Yes, you’re absolutely right, but what do you want us to do?” We’re not saying that we’re playing bluegrass. We love bluegrass. The reason that this band was started was bluegrass. And here’s what we do with bluegrass. We take our parts of it. Colton on the banjo, he’s playing better than half the folks you hear on Bluegrass Junction, and it’s fantastic that we can have those elements, but we’re not claiming to be the best, or to be stealing it. We’re just trying to be a part of the community and play music.

Tell me about what you mean when you say the band started because of bluegrass.

NH: Oh, when I first met Colton, I was listening to a lot of Old Crow Medicine Show and Trampled By Turtles and listening to some older bluegrass. Colton had just got a banjo, started playing.

CC: Steve Martin was the first actual banjo player that I listened to. Actually there were indie bands that I was into in high school and university, like Modest Mouse — their one record Good News For People Who Love Bad News, there’s a lot of banjo on that. I always just loved the sound of it. And then I discovered that Steve Martin was a world class picker. I was always a metal guitarist. So there was actually a lot of crossover. I just love that fast picking style. Growing up, my guitar lessons were all classical fingerstyle guitar, but then I played in metal bands in high school. So the banjo is like the perfect middle ground between an acoustic fingerstyle guitar and metal guitar.

Colton, did you take some time off?

CC: I did, yeah. When we first started the band, we just hit the ground running with the touring and we were making no money. So we’d be on the road for a month and a half to two months at a time in a minivan, playing every single day. I’ve always had this tough time sleeping, but I had a year of really, really bad insomnia. I think the worst part about insomnia is that you’d think at a certain point you get so exhausted that your body would just pass out and you’d have a great sleep. But the thing with insomnia is the more tired you get, the less likely you are to sleep. It’s the worst, it’s just hell. I went through a year of that and I just said, OK, I’ve got to step away from this. And of course, like two weeks after I left, “In Hell I’ll Be In Good Company” got posted to Reddit and everything started to blow up. But I was still really good friends with Nate, kept in touch with the guys all the time, always figured that’d be part of writing the next record regardless. And then I got some help and figured it out a little bit. Then sort of approaching it a couple of years later, I just said, you know, I want to take another swing. Thankfully these guys, they could’ve told me to fuck off, but they didn’t. So I’m grateful for that.

NH: Yeah, Colton wouldn’t even look me in the eyes when he sat down with me. He was doing a lot of this [looking down] “I’ve been thinking…” and just staring at the table and I’m like, “What’s he going to say? What’s coming?”

CC: I had no idea how you guys were going to react at all.

NH: He said, “Hey, we should go for a beer, I want to talk about something.” I was like, “I think he’s going to come back.” [Laughs]. In our minds I was like, he’s probably never coming back because we travel a lot and that was a big, big part of it. So what do you do? Unless we stop traveling as much as we focus just on writing or something.

CC: It’s not realistic.

NH: Yeah, for what we do, besides YouTube content, the way that we’re able to function so well is by touring.

CC: Yeah. Our main product is our live show. I love our records but definitely our show is what we do.

Tell me about when you’re off stage. What is your dynamic like?

CC: It’s pretty much just like this. Just hanging out and everyone gets along pretty well for the most part, which is really nice. We’ve been a band for almost seven years now and we still like being around each other, so that’s good. Yeah, it’s a lot of fun. We always say we’re friends first, a band second, and a business third, so we try and keep that in mind.

What do you hope people will take away from that experience of seeing you guys play live?

CC: I think most people show up for a really, really good time, and that’s what we’re trying to do. We’re not a political band. We don’t really have any kind of message. I think our main focus with the live show is just fun. It’s a weird thing because it’s almost frowned upon in the arts. You know, [the perception is that] if something’s fun, it can’t really be true art. We don’t agree with that at all. I don’t think there’s enough fun these days. Everything’s so serious all the time, so we just want people to come and enjoy themselves and have some fun. It stands out when a band’s having fun, because there’s a lot of serious songwriting and sadness out there.

NH: We write tragically, but a lot of times we have humorous spins on stuff, or the song sounds super cheery but it’s actually quite sad. But we still have fun with it. We don’t take ourselves too seriously.

From: https://thebluegrasssituation.com/read/the-dead-south-have-a-message-for-bluegrass-purists/ 

 

 

Kristeen Young - Catland

 #Kristeen Young #alternative rock #piano rock #avant-garde #prog punk #operatic punk #multi-genre #no-genre #music video

Holy crap, where did THIS thing come from? I’ve heard some Kristeen Young stuff before and thought it was unusual and compelling, but this record - whoa, mama! It’s full-on ass-kicking weirdness of the kind I used to revel in at the turn of the millennium. Young has been compared to Kate Bush before (her tendency to favor the higher registers, her unconventional delivery), but she also reminds me of a couple of Scandinavian singers such as Sofia Hardig and an artist whose name escapes me. Point is, there is a focused, melodious quality to Ms Young’s voice that you hear at times, but she is making the case here for high-stakes sonic melodrama. Young is a wild thing, untamed and sometimes scary. She takes a risk in virtually every song, and it’s breathtaking. You don’t hear stuff like this very often. And despite the title, Live at the Witch’s Tit, this is NOT a live album. It’s Young’s eighth studio album and, although Tony Visconti is listed as co-producer and he has worked with Young for many years, this album was largely recorded just after David Bowie’s death; Kristeen has said Tony was not around that much. Bowie’s passing and the release of Blackstar affected his availability during the sessions. Guitars growl, the bass lumbers around not necessarily keeping it linear, and Young herself stalks these soundscapes like an utterly fearless musical predator. It’s really quite glorious.
In “You Might Be Ted, But I’m Sylvia,” a title that invites discourse, Young carefully balances some emotive, disciplined singing with a series of loud, boisterous piano octaves. At the one-minute mark, a ferocious sound emerges that sounds at first like it could be an attacking animal, but no, it’s an ominous synth sound distorted to resemble a primitive electric guitar, that bites instead. It’ll take a piece right outta ya if you aren’t prepared. “There’s a chance he might disappear,” the singer tells us, before intoning the song’s title, powerfully, preceded and followed by a hypnotically dissonant piano interval banged over and over, taking you prisoner. You CANNOT remain indifferent to the sound slicing into your ears here. You’ll either find it enthralling, as I did, or you’ll run away with your tail between your legs. “Why Am I a Feelmate” turns up the electronica, and takes things into territory occupied by the Knife (I’d be real surprised if Young was not familiar with Karin Dreijer). The vocal is spooky, partially distorted, and the music seems to celebrate chaos. And yet, Young’s control over this boundary-bashing sound is remarkable. I honestly feel rather inadequate to describe it. It’s thoroughly modern and thoroughly uninterested in anything but its own path. You can follow, yes, but you better stay a few steps behind, or something vicious may chomp into you. “Catland” begins with a child’s voice wanting to coax a sound out of a “kitty cat,” but you just KNOW that kind of cuteness will be short-lived. It is. The song quickly turns into a crazed rocker with tempo and chord changes that the likes of Zappa might have admired. There is no attempt to please the audience here at all, unless you are, like me, in the audience that adores flat-out weird music. The word “challenging” was meant for discs like this.  From: http://zacharymule.com/wp/?p=4370

Steely Dan - Show Biz Kids - The Midnight Special 1973

 #Steely Dan #jazz rock #pop rock #album rock #classic rock #The Midnight Special #music video

Earlier this month, rare footage of Steely Dan playing Reelin' In The Years and Do It Again on The Midnight Special appeared on the show's official YouTube channel. The footage came from a show broadcast in February 1973, but the band returned to the show in August the same year and played three more songs. They revisited Reelin' in the Years and added My Old School, alongside a sensational Show Biz Kids, and the latter is the latest video to make its way online. And it is sensational. Donald Fagen, famously nervous about singing live, shows absolutely no sign of being so. Jeff 'Skunk' Baxter plays Rick Derringer's original slide guitar part with an exuberance bordering on maniacal. And the two backing singers, Gloria 'Porky' Granola and Jenny 'Bucky' Soule, have more fun with the famous "You go to Lost Wages, Lost Wages," lines than you can possibly imagine. Impressively, it appears that the band refused to self-censor the "You know they don't give a fuck about anybody else" line – later used as the basis for the song The Man Don't Give a Fuck by Welsh psychedelia enthusiasts Super Furry Animals – forcing the show's producers to punch in a brief moment of family-friendly silence during the edit.  From: https://www.loudersound.com/news/steely-dan-show-biz-kids-the-midnight-special

This is a song which disparages a certain class of L.A. residents - wealthy offspring of entertainment moguls - show biz kids who don’t give a fuck about anybody else. Steely Dan were New Yorkers who had relocated to L.A. for work. Later they moved back to NYC but at this point much of their lyrical content outlined their dissatisfaction with many of the sleazier things about the West Coast. They kept writing about it even after they returned to the East Coast, for example in 1980’s “Babylon Sisters” from ‘Gaucho’, and also 2000’s “West of Hollywood” from ‘Two Against Nature’.  From: https://genius.com/Steely-dan-show-biz-kids-lyrics

"Show Biz Kids" was such an utterly bizarre choice for the first single from Countdown to Ecstasy that one has to assume that Donald Fagen and Walter Becker chose it deliberately as a veiled affront to ABC Records and anyone who expected "Do It Again" redux. Although the song features a stellar slide guitar solo (by guest Rick Derringer instead of group members Denny Dias and Jeff "Skunk" Baxter, the first example of the studio musician ethos that would soon become Steely Dan's stock in trade) and a funky piano-led groove, "Show Biz Kids" is eccentrically structured, without a bridge or middle eight, giving it an endless, plodding quality that suits the bitter lyrics about cliquishness and hedonism in the group's adopted hometown of Los Angeles. It also seems unlikely that a song whose payoff line is "Show business kids making movies 'bout themselves/You know they don't give a fuck about anybody else" was likely to top the charts in 1973. Incidentally, that repetitive chant of the female backing vocalists is "You go to Lost Wages," a Rat Pack-era joke name for Vegas.  From: https://www.allmusic.com/song/show-biz-kids-mt0000372379

Savannah Pope - Creature

 #Savannah Pope #art rock #hard rock #progressive rock #glam rock #singer-songwriter #ex-SpaceCream #music video

Rock singer-songwriter Savannah Pope, formerly the lead vocalist of SpaceCream, is proud to announce the release of her new video and single, “Creature.” “Creature” is an explosive, operatic, and hard-rocking song featuring lyrics brimming with both moxie and self-deprecation. Boasting soaring, gorgeous vocals, the song’s melodies cross over to metal while retaining a bona fide glitter rock vibe. Savannah made the video for “Creature” by blending original footage with sophisticated original motion graphics. It took her an entire year to create, frame by frame, and the resulting imagery is beautiful and disturbing.
Savannah makes incendiary, soulful rock music. Her songs boast stunning lyricism and vocal power. Her stage presence is larger than life, and should be experienced firsthand by any music lover. Influenced by such luminaries as David Bowie, Amy Winehouse, Lou Reed, Queen, Joni Mitchell, Rocky Horror Picture Show and Heart, her music blends classic rock elements with a unique modern sensibility.
Savannah has been a fixture in the Los Angeles music scene for over five years. Until one year ago, she was the vocalist and leader of glam rock band SpaceCream, which released the acclaimed album Pterodactyl Sky in 2016. As lead singer for SpaceCream, she played LA Fashion Week and opened for national artists such as Jesse Hughes (Eagles of Death Metal), Nick Oliveri (Queens of the Stone Age), and VOLTO (Danny Carey of Tool). SpaceCream won the Battle for Vans Warped Tour at House of Blues Hollywood, and played numerous live shows at storied venues like the Viper Room and the Troubadour.
Born in LA, Savannah’s background story is definitely different from the average musician’s. Savannah was an angsty, precocious, and unique kid who wound up at a boarding school for wayward teens when she was 14 years old. “I was sent away because I was extremely depressed and wild, and running away all the time,” she reveals. “My parents never knew where I was. I fought them on everything, and they were scared for me.” During her two years there, a friend taught Savannah some chords on the guitar, and she started writing songs.
After graduating high school, Savannah traveled extensively. “I went to Ecuador with some very intense hippies and we lived off the land. We climbed volcanoes, and one guy actually got hit by lightning. No joke. We also stayed with Quechua natives in the jungle for a hot minute. As it turns out, I am entirely unremarkable in the art of being one with nature. I mostly got eaten alive by insects and resembled a leper.” Savannah then went to college, dropped out, stopped by Harlem for a while, spent a year painting/being a wild thing in Barcelona, and eventually landed back in Los Angeles, where her journey began. She fell in love with performing by accident, when she wandered onstage during some friends’ open mic and got an incredible response. And she’s been hooked ever since.
Perhaps the best way to immerse oneself in Savannah’s world is to see her onstage. She utilizes her live performances to present a new brand of art rock steeped in glam and prog; an unpaired blend of riveting musicianship, garish style, and theatricality.  From: https://music.allaccess.com/an-interview-with-the-rock-singer-songwriter-savannah-pope-on-her-newest-music-and-more/

Dead Register - Alive

 #Dead Register #gothic rock #post-punk #industrial #gothic metal #gloom-gaze #music video

This Atlanta trio has graced a few of my end of the year best of lists. They are known for flirting with various shades of heavy, sludge and doom being the two sub-genres that come closest to describing the darkness thickly emoted from the sonic swathes they summon, using only bass, synths, and drums as the primary instrumentation. Their new album finds the band continuing deeper into the despairing abyss their previous work has gazed into. This time around the grooves are just more refined.
The title track that opens the album carries a sleek industrial stomp. The drumming gives the vocals plenty of room to lament. At times the tension has a shadowy post-punk feel, but with more oppression to its heavy-handed melancholy. The slithering minor scales on “Circle of Lies” provide a romantic contrast to the song’s more pounding sections. Overall this is a heavier grooving album from what they have done in the past. The atmosphere that drips from the corners of their sound is weaponized negative space, crushed when the riffs contract. This is demonstrated on “In Between” which is one of the album’s more driven songs thanks to the frantic drumming.
I would not say they are a band that aspires to be beloved by the masses, as they refuse to dumb anything down to the lowest common denominator, but you can hear how “Jaded Love” might be the closest they have come yet to something radio friendly. It works off of a more straightforward chug. This band can never be accused of just being heavy for the sake of being heavy. Instead it is a sonic intensity that is a by-product of this band writing great songs no matter what genre you want to pin to them. Heaviness is used as a color rather than the sole purpose of creation.
Regular readers here will not be surprised that this band has some almost goth leanings, given my taste in music. Here the “goth” qualities are not a Type O Negative like languishing over headstones, but instead come from how the ambience adorns the melodies of songs like “Two Silhouettes”. Chvasta‘s baritone croon might add to coloring their sound in a gray bleakness. It also serves to give the album’s narrative a unified voice during the stylistic shifts. “Longest Day” floats somewhere in a middle ground between the crossroads of sounds the band dips into.
On the last song the band dig deeper into the rock-tinged side of what they do. It is moodier, which is a more vulnerable side of heaviness. This causes the sound to become more doom-flavored in its intentions; rather than mourning or loss, it is more of a burden of the stark feeling one gets from just being alive in today’s world — a feeling for which this album provides a much-needed soundtrack. The message might not be to abandon all hope, but it does provide the sonic colors to lean into dystopia with.  From: https://www.nocleansinging.com/2022/03/14/dead-register-alive/

The Soul Motivators - Raise a Glass

 #The Soul Motivators #soul #funk #R&B #psychedelic soul #retro 1970s #Canadian

Canada's The Soul Motivators (TSM) are a premier funk outfit based in Toronto. TSM blend classic 70s funk, soul, and psychedelic grooves to create a modern fresh sound with their strong craft for songwriting. In February 2020, the Motivators released their acclaimed third album 'Do The Damn Thing', featuring powerhouse frontwoman Shahi Teruko. With the accompanying tour derailed due to the pandemic, the band switched to a series of online and drive-thru concerts to keep them going. Now they're back and ready with their fourth studio album, 'Do it Together.'
The 8 track album takes the listener on a cosmic trip filled with groove and optimism guided through aural landscapes. Imagine the Toronto Yonge Street strip in the 70s. Flares, arcades, neon, cinema, record shops - grit and funk. Yet modern beats and rich rhythm infuse each track to lift you up and get you moving - floating into outer space yet deeply rooted on solid ground.
From the first note played on 'Raise a Glass', the band switches on their classic Motivators mode: hard-hitting, clav-heavy harmonic, smooth horn line, a timeless deep funk track. Next up, 'Power' pushes the TSM sound to new celestial limits - Interstellar synths and drum n' bass inspired breakbeats are mediated by Teruko's ethereal vocals with the fire and passion of Bettye Lavette and tight rhythm of The JB's. Other highlights include, 'It is what it is' - a smooth soul groover that would easily blend into any Hitsville playlist!
"It tackles the subject of our collective ups and downs, inspiring us to keep moving through the darkness." With 'Try', TSM channel Muscle Shoals with a deep cut of southern soul, with passionate vocal delivery, evoking Sharon Jones and Charles Bradley, infuses this tune with a heavy Daptone influence. 'Do It Together' is The Soul Motivators at our best - fusing familiar influences with new elements and pushing our musical boundaries to new limits."
Since the release of their explosive 2015 full-length debut Free to Believe (Do Right! Music), TSM tirelessly toured to bring their high-octane live show to the masses. The acclaimed Dirt On the Floor EP, and collaboration with Detroit's Funk Night Records released over two highly sought after 7" singles, saw them dig deep into the funk crates.
The core of the band consists of Teruko (vocals), James Robinson (keys), Marc Shapiro (bass), Voltaire Ramos (guitar), Doug Melville (drums), and Derek Thorne (percussion), with a rotating cast of talented horns and special guests.  From: https://www.broadwayworld.com/bwwmusic/article/The-Soul-Motivators-Share-Power-From-Upcoming-Full-Length-Do-It-Together-20230301

The Grip Weeds - Porpoise Song

 #The Grip Weeds #power pop #psychedelic rock #psychedelic pop rock #garage rock #indie rock #folk-pop #Monkees cover

The Grip Weeds are one of the foremost modern practitioners of the psychedelic rock, garage rock, and power pop genres. The music of this well-respected New Jersey band is strongly influenced by the mid to late 1960s sounds of The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Who, and Buffalo Springfield. Since the band formed back in 1998, they’ve been captivating their fans with fantastic live performances and excellent discs such as 1994’s House of Vibes and 2015’s How I Won The War. The current lineup of the band features Kurt Reil on vocals, guitar, drums, and keyboards, Kristen Pinell Reil on guitars, percussion and vocals, Rick Reil on vocals, guitar and keyboards, and Dave DeSantis on bass. The Grip Weeds have just released their latest album, DiG, on JEM Records. It’s an outstanding disc, celebrating the garage rock and psychedelic era music that inspired the band. DiG includes classic songs from The Zombies, The Byrds, and The Monkees, but the album is also chock full of lesser-known (and equally memorable) tunes from bands such as Mouse and the Traps, The Gants, and The Nightcrawlers. The liner notes for the album are provided by Lenny Kaye, whose groundbreaking 1972 compilation Nuggets was one of the first retrospectives of the music of the garage rock and psychedelic era. I recently had an in-depth chat with founding member and producer Kurt Reil about the making of DiG.

Q: What was the genesis of DiG? Given the fact that your sound is deeply entrenched in the music of the 1960s, encompassing genres such as rock, pop, psychedelia, and garage rock, the songs on the album feel like a perfect fit for the band.

A: DiG is partly a discovery or re-discovery of our roots, and partly a way to get through a very difficult time during the pandemic. The album was something we found we could do as a band, and in some cases, work long distance because of the circumstances. We were planning to start a new record of original material, and we worked on a few things, but it quickly became apparent that we were actually having more fun playing the cover tunes we were messing around with, so we just shifted gears. It was just something we just found ourselves gravitating towards at the time.

Q: One of the things I love about the album is that you didn’t just pick familiar songs to cover. The selection of tunes is wonderfully eclectic. Even though there are some well-known songs like “Journey to the Center of the Mind” from The Amboy Dukes and “Lady Friend” by The Byrds, there are a number of tunes from less familiar garage rock bands such as “Lie, Beg Borrow and Steal” by Mouse and the Traps, and “I Wonder” by The Gants. Before the advent of CDs and internet radio shows like Little Steven’s Underground Garage, the only way to hear these records was on a vinyl compilation like Lenny Kaye’s Nuggets, or to search them out in places like used record stores.

A: We went pretty deep on DiG. When we started out as a band, we were excited by the songs that we hadn’t heard or that hadn’t been played to death. They were hard to find, and when we discovered them, we were saying “Wow! I can’t believe this record.” It was very exciting. Part of the DiG concept is the musical excavation of these nuggets or buried treasures. That’s what it was like for us in our early days when we would track down these records at flea markets or garage sales. When we started out in the late 1980s, these records were just gone. They had been forgotten by the industry because they’d had their run. They were really hard to come by, and CD re-issues of this kind of music hadn’t kicked in yet. What spurred on these garage bands to make music in the first place, was dreaming about becoming stars, because of The Beatles. We started out that way, too. That was the dream that The Beatles made possible. These groups, particularly the ones featured on Nuggets, were often teenagers, and in a lot of cases, they didn’t have much money. The bands would make a record in a local studio, they’d have some success, and their songs would take off for a while. Then they went on with their lives, and that was it. Those records are like time capsules of that era.

Q: One of the other cool things about the music of that era is that the “garage rock” bands actually wrote and recorded songs that encompassed a number of genres, including rock, pop, and soul. It wasn’t just one type of music, and that’s reflected by the songs on DiG.

A: These groups were looking at the charts and listening to the radio, and there were a lot of different kinds of music being played on “pop radio” back then. The garage bands were mirroring what they heard, so if what they heard was The Rolling Stones, they did a blues kind of thing, if it was The Beatles, they went for a pop or rock sound, and sometimes their inspiration came from other things, like Motown or vocal groups. We tried to accentuate that on DiG. One example is the song “Little Black Egg” which is included on the deluxe edition. The band used to play it in our early days, during our acoustic shows at Maxwell’s in Hoboken, New Jersey. We wanted this version to have a really playful tone, so we pulled out a banjo and temple blocks to help give it that child-like vibe. One of our friends suggested Kristen should sing the lead because she has such an innocent-sounding voice. “Little Black Egg” was really fun to work on. Each song on the album has a particular significance and a story behind it.

From: https://www.culturesonar.com/the-grip-weeds-dig-some-cool-covers/

Emmylou Harris, Alison Krauss & Gillian Welch - Go to Sleep Little Baby

 #Emmylou Harris #Alison Krauss #Gillian Welch #Americana #folk #traditional #movie soundtrack #O Brother Where Art Thou

Most famously heard in the movie "O Brother, Where Art Thou", the traditional lullaby "Didn't Leave Nobody but the Baby" is performed by artists Emmylou Harris, Alison Krauss, and Gillian Welch. This song appears to be a southern folk song, and was also previously recorded by Sidney Hemphill Carter in 1959 and ethnomusicologist Alan Lomax in 1942. What is the history, origins and meaning of the lyrics in this song? It appears to be a song born out of the anguish of slavery (as noted by former slave Annie Little in the Federal Writers' Project: Slave Narrative Project, Vol. 16). I have however, heard that this may depict a father trying to keep his baby quiet by giving it morphine in order to hide him from a slaveowner (perhaps on the underground railroad, or possibly in order to commit infanticide). Is there any reputable, authoritative evidence that this is the case?

My grandmother, who recently passed at 98 years old, used to sing this to me and she said her grandmother who was a slave sang it to her. She said all the mammies used to sing this to their children.

This is a Black American folk song, originating in the slavery era. At that time, it was dangerous for enslaved people to speak openly about their concerns, so many songs of the era have hidden or concealed meanings. As a folk song, however, neither the lyrics nor the interpretations are fixed, so it can be difficult or impossible to make a definitive determination. Like many of the most popular lullabies and nursery rhymes of many traditions (compare Rock a Bye Baby or Ring Around the Mulberry Bush) there's some dark and ominous imagery here. It's perhaps most instructive to compare it to All the Pretty Horses, another lullaby with similar origins, and a more established meaning. As in that song, we can surmise that this song is being sung by an enslaved caretaker of a baby belonging to the slavemasters, leading to a mix of tenderness and anger in the lyrics.

    Your momma gone away and your daddy's gone to stay
    Didn't leave nobody but the baby

The "momma" having gone away indicates that the woman singing is not the baby's actual mother. Likewise, the baby's father is also out of the home.

    Everybody’s gone in the cotton and the corn
    Didn't leave nobody but the baby

With all the masters gone, the baby is at the mercy of its caretaker.

    She's long gone with her red shoes on
    Gonna need another loving baby

The mother is out having fun, and doesn't care what happens to her child. She might need a new one, because her current child may not have long to live.

    You and me and the devil makes three
    Don't need no other loving baby

This moves more into pure speculation, but "don't need no other loving baby" may be a veiled reference to her being unable to take care of her own children (as in All the Pretty Horses) because of being forced to caretake her master's child. The devil is present, because she is having fantasies about killing the baby in revenge.

    Come lay your bones on the alabaster stones
    And be my ever loving baby

This seems like the most clear threat in the song - the alabaster stones, are, of course, the headstones in the graveyard. Compare also "Summertime," as discussed here: What's the origin of the phrase "Rise Up Singing"? Although not an authentic slave-era lullaby, "Summertime" draws upon many of the same themes, including the caretaking of someone else's child, and the veiled threat.

This is a song that seems to have originated among slaves in the southern US and has been passed on orally from generation to generation by people who might not even have been able to write, so there is no 'authoritative' version of the lyrics. So, of course, no interpretation of those lyrics is going to be 'authoritative'. There are probably almost as many different interpretations as there have been attempts at interpretation. A recurring theme in these is that the baby has been abandoned by both parents and the singer is preparing to poison it, but there are plenty of other variations.

Funny. I’ve been singing this to my kids for the last 12 months. They love it. Knocks them out every time. But I always forget the words because I can’t think of the story. Really interesting. I mentally started to wonder if it was a seductive song, but mostly because of the imagery from “Oh Brother Where Art Thou”. If you think of it from the perspective of someone trying to seduce a man while his “momma’s gone away” you can almost force some meanings as well. Don’t need another lovin’ babe - you and me and the devil make three. And then a bit of a Romeo and Juliet moment. Or maybe now that I’m reading that it was maybe a slave song. Then there’s the inevitable death that will occur if the mistress is a black caretaker and she’s singing the song for the husband of a partying wife.

From: https://musicfans.stackexchange.com/questions/10086/origin-and-meaning-of-didnt-leave-nobody-but-the-baby

David Crosby - Music Is Love

 #David Crosby #Crosby, Stills & Nash #folk #folk rock #West coast folk rock #singer-songwriter #contemporary folk #ex-The Byrds #1970s

Contrary to popular opinion, the most stacked supergroup of the early 1970s was not Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. CSNY were not even, in fact, the most auspicious collective to include David Crosby, Graham Nash and Neil Young at the time. That honor went to a bigger, wilder, albeit less-heralded amalgam known briefly as The Planet Earth Rock And Roll Orchestra. It’s discography was sketchy, its personnel fluid, but PERRO pivoted around Crosby, Nash and most of the Grateful Dead and Jefferson Airplane, with auxiliary memberships for Young and Joni Mitchell, among others. Named by Jefferson Airplane guitarist Paul Kantner, they convened for his late 1970 album, Blows Against The Empire; a baroque psych gang show that recast the counterculture’s desire to escape urban life as a sci-fi mission to distant planets rather than as a rural property grab in Laurel Canyon or Marin County.
Crosby had moved next door to Grateful Dead drummer Mickey Hart’s Marin ranch in late 1969, and the Orchestra members had many other things in common, not least a fondness for Wally Heider Studios in San Francisco’s Tenderloin, and for Kantner’s awe-inspiring “Ice Bag” weed. It was at Heider’s that CSNY had battled through Déjà Vu, and where the Dead had crafted the sepia-toned epiphanies of American Beauty. As sessions for that last album were winding down in the summer of 1970, the Orchestra’s amorphous jams began to coalesce into their finest achievement. The stories that have become legend about Crosby and his circle often fixate on feuding, egomania, and patterns of behavior that in most every light look morally unconscionable. But If I Could Only Remember My Name reveals an alternative, parallel truth: a solo album, predicated on one man’s grief, where a musical community came together to help him transcend it.
On the morning of September 30, 1969, the same week that the first CSN album went gold in the States, Crosby’s girlfriend Christine Hinton handed over a few joints to Crosby and Nash, loaded her cats into a green Volkswagen bus, and left their Marin place on the way to the vet. En route, she crashed into a school bus coming in the opposite direction; Crosby would have to identify her body later in the day. The tragedy did not derail work on Déjà Vu, and by the summer of 1970 Crosby was still processing his loss. “I didn’t have any equipment to deal with that,” he told Jesse Jarnow for the Good Ol’ Grateful Deadcast in 2020. “The only place that I knew I wouldn’t be utterly terrified and crying and distraught was in the studio. They all knew that the only time I was happy was when I was singing, so they got me singing every chance they could get. It was an act of kindness, but it was also joy.”
If I Could Only Remember My Name had a large cast, but they moved with great discretion. There were communal healing rites like the opening Music Is Love, and one solemn indictment of The Man – What Are Their Names, featuring a chorale of Nash, Young, Mitchell, Kantner, Jerry Garcia, Phil Lesh, Grace Slick and David Freiberg. Mostly, though, their presence was blurred and indistinct, giving Crosby the space to express himself in the distrait way – abstracted tunings, wordless harmonies, an aesthetic at once psychedelic and medieval – that he’d been finessing since his time in The Byrds.  From: https://www.mojo4music.com/articles/new-music/david-crosby-his-masterpiece-revisited/