Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Y Control

Can a band build an entire career, a legacy even, on a handful of EPs and a boundless torrent of press? How many party dresses need to take a beer bath before the Yeah Yeah Yeahs drop the rock icon pastiche and just play some music? Over and over again, they've been accused of empty posturing, wallowing in scrofulous, self-conscious "irony," disguising themselves Predator-style as the public conception of who they were supposed to be rather than who they actually are. And yet (dramatic pause), until the stylists and spin-mongers start writing the music, why does this still have to matter? The band plays the blistering, bassless hand they're dealt, plus or minus the cards up their designer sleeves, and make the "right moves." More power to them; hype, famously, is a bitch, a shrew, and in the end, it's still theirs to try and tame. No one wants to be the ill-fated morning-after tat on the ass-end of the garage-rock revival, after all.
The really stupid part of all this, though, is that the shitstorm of publicity that's been hanging overhead the Yeah Yeah Yeahs is based on all of, what, eight songs? Two EP/singles? Robert Pollard throws away eight songs before breakfast and you sure as hell don't see him on the cover of NME. Well, hold yr breath, kids. The YYY's have finally released the plot element that their garage-to-riches Cinderella II story has most sorely lacked: The Full-Length Album. This is gonna make 'em rockstars, everybody! The final story arc-- and how's this for irony-- will conclude with them shedding their personas here, showing everyone that they've got what it takes to endure, and living happily ever after as the saviors of rock 'n' roll.
Except, they don't do any of that. Or maybe (and this is only an hypothesis) they were never all that guilty of the heinous crimes of Fashion they've been charged with in the first place? Either way, here it is, Fever to Tell, and they just play the same guitar/drums rock they have since the beginning-- what'd you expect? Sure, you can practically feel Karen O looking over her shoulder for approval with every faux-erotic squeal or disdainful shout, and a number of these tracks fall flat entirely because of the knowing, brutal swagger they try so damn hard to affect. And when it's all over, the slow-burning, gently chaotic dissolve of "No No No" (even the title is self-conscious) or the bluesy strut of "Black Tongue" will wither under anything more than passing scrutiny, but more will remain.
Reason is, first and foremost, the near-faultless musical support at the core of the YYY's: Nick Zinner and Brian Chase. If you can hear (or even care to try to hear, which you shouldn't) an ounce of "posture" in Zinner's thunderous guitar licks or Chase's relentless percussive assault, then you're a more cynical man (or woman) than I. The rhythms are never very complicated, but when it counts, Chase pounds away with enough precise desperation to project an unfailing sense of urgency; it carries through even the more emotional tracks, lending the rare vulnerability a tragic sort of transience.
Between the vicious buzz and slender trill of Zinner's strings is a breathtaking range-- the robotically looped harmonics of "Rich" coupled with the layered crunch of the wall-of-sound that collapses on top of them; the stop/start emergency-room shriek of "Date With a Night". Even Karen O seems stunned by the anthemic scope of the blazing, surf-like guitar and Chase's deafening percussion on "Y Control"; she turns in one of her most subdued vocals, as if it's all she can do just to keep up. Not coincidentally, it's also one of her most impressive turns.
That's not O's only compelling performance, though-- there are a couple moments when she drops her lacquered sneers and teases, and when this happens, it suddenly becomes very difficult to avoid seeing the music in a different light. Of course, her success varies. At times, she's the linchpin of the band-- and not just because her gratuitous sexual tension has become their trademark-- while at others she's the weakest link. The problem here is that, while the guys are definitely on here, they're still nowhere near groundbreaking, and as a result, they rise and fall depending largely on Karen's delivery. Her play-acting is what got the Yeah Yeah Yeahs slapped with the charges of shallow insincerity in the first place. It shouldn't matter if it's a façade, but it does; knowing beforehand what you're dealing with or not, it becomes very trying to accept every sleazy squeak as part of her routine. If the band ever wants to really dump these lingering doubts for good, they'll need to overcome this obstacle.
Still, for proof that the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, at their core, make a better band than they do runway trendsetters, one need look no further than Fever to Tell's singular true moment of clarity-- a tune of such moving grace I can scarcely believe they're responsible for it-- "Maps". Though the song is sadly in a class by itself on this record (it would take about two seconds to call roll for the tunes that even come close), absolutely everything falls into place here. The drums are gentle enough to simply caress the tune, but still pressing enough to make it clear that this second of happiness is fleeting, and Zinner's guitar work is easily his best to date, equal parts joy and discord. But it's Karen's vocals that steal the show; for once, they fairly drip genuine, regretful emotion: When she sings, "Lay off/ Don't stray/ My kind is your kind/ I'll stay the same/ They don't love you like I love you," almost on the verge of defeated tears, the emotive response it produces is very real, and that means a lot.  From: https://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/8888-fever-to-tell/

The Marshall Tucker Band - You Ain't Foolin' Me

The Marshall Tucker Band’s A New Life (1974) was slightly more country than the previous album had been. The "progressive" thing gives way to a more defined rock sound too, along with some jazzy influences, despite the obviously prog-inspired cover! This is perfectly represented by the muscular rock of the opener, A New Life, a track that nevertheless still manages to reach nearly seven minutes. That old experimental/workout urge is obviously still there.  A really infectious bassline and slow rhythm underpins the excellent Southern Woman, another lengthy track. It sounds like a more melodious, less down 'n' dirty Lynyrd Skynyrd. Mid-track the band launch into a distinctly jazz groove, featuring some highly impressive saxophone and a great jazz guitar solo. This group had a lot of strings to its collective bow. They were definitely not in the stereotypical country rock pigeonhole. How many other country rock bands put out stuff as inventively different as this? Not many, if any. A very Pure Prairie League/Firefall-style lively, tuneful country sound is delivered on the enjoyable breeze of Blue Ridge Mountain Sky. Slow country blues arrives on the equally pleasurable Too Stubborn.  You would have thought the group had gone all big band with the jaunty brassy intro to Another Cruel Love, a track that doesn't let up from its first few beats. It certainly rocks strongly and the brassy vibe puts me in mind of Van Morrison. You Ain't Foolin' Me displays that ability to lay down a lengthy rock workout once more. They really are a country band like no other. Of course, there are hints of many other artists in their sound, but they also have a clear uniqueness, something that really is all of their own. Check out that jazzy saxophone break mid-song for starters. Some of Bruce Hornsby's material in the nineties reminds me of this number as well. Was he listening to this? I reckon so.  24 Hours At A Time is pure mid-seventies country rock and most fine-soundin' it is too. Very representative of its era. Great guitar near the end as well. The album ends with possibly the most country number in the grandly melodious Fly Eagle Fly. The next four albums progress from a clear, essential country sound, such as features on the excellent Searchin' For A Rainbow and Long Hard Ride to a more commercially-oriented country pop approach as the seventies progressed. Other country bands such as Pure Prairie League and Firefall tended to follow this path too, as did The Doobie Brothers. It seemed that by 1977-78 going more mainstream was the thing to do. Doing so actually gained the group their first hit in 1977's catchy and breezy Heard It In A Love Song. The melodic and attractive flute employed in the song puts me in mind of the sound Bob Dylan used a year later in his Live At Budokan show (played there by Steve Douglas). I really, really like the über-cool, immaculately-played grooves of the Searchin' For A Rainbow album but nothing on it screams out at me, begging to be analysed, despite the jazzy, sometimes even Doobie Brothers/Little Feat funky feel of some of it. In some ways that is a shame but in other ways it sort of shows that the album has done its job as something to be consumed as a whole - a collective feeling as opposed to individual song-by-song descriptions.  From: https://thepunkpanthermusicreviews.blogspot.com/2023/12/the-marshall-tucker-band.html

The Fiery Furnaces - Navy Nurse

In a grand move to restore liner notes to their informative zenith, the inky little paper accompanying Gallowsbird's Bark offers a handful of (supposedly) autobiographical clues to The Fiery Furnaces' raucous brother/sister gambol: "Matthew encouraged Eleanor to come down in the basement to make their first Fiery Furnaces music together. Maybe he should have hit and stabbed and smashed her. But he just swore." Despite some implied tongue-in-cheekiness (and the obvious fact that relentless sibling posturing is an awfully exhausted conceit right now, even if these kids really are related), it's a surprisingly apt and insightful peep into the bright blue heart of The Fiery Furnaces' blaze: violence, dark rooms, boy/girl handholding, and big selfless compromises all vie for attention on this debut, a feisty blues-rock barn-dance with enough pings and yelps to keep everyone's little hands curled tightly into fists.
The Furnaces' electric guitar, drums, sparingly applied bass, and freewheeling piano riffs recollect everything from Muddy Waters to the Rolling Stones, and Gallowsbird's Bark plays like a big, half-drunken romp through golden-era rock 'n' roll-- airy and thrilling and shifty as hell. Lyrics mostly consist of quasi-rambling witticisms that somehow come together in the delivery; Eleanor Friedberger's brash, oddly assured warble (the evenly hollered "I pierced my ears with a three-hole punch/ I ate three dozen donuts for lunch") is lovingly reminiscent of the kinds of semi-absurdist snickers that Dylan got away with in the late 60s (check the baffling-but-somehow-not credo, "The sun isn't yellow/ It's chicken," from "Tombstone Blues"). Likewise, the duo's spare, confrontational guitar riffing is grating only insofar as it jars; blues-driven, feral, and scribbling all over the page, Bark's sixteen tracks house a mess of weird, undulating musical bits that are hugely intriguing despite not always making a whole shitload of sense.
"South Is Only a Home" opens the record in a sloppy downhill tumble. It's a solid, foot-stomping burst, with honkytonk piano plonking out a declining scale and a wrestled guitar making a mess that's as thrilling as it is damaging. Both "Leaky Tunnel" and "Inca Rag/Name Game" channel Lennon/McCartney melody-gone-weird ("Inca Rag" has a piano opening that's awfully close to "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da") while "I'm Gonna Run" sees Eleanor's Jack White/Chrissie Hynde growl/coo suggestively noting, "Saw my brother coming up the hill/ I tied a beach towel around my wrist." It's all muted violence and esoteric observations skidding across wily guitar foundations, bouncy piano hits, and puttering percussion. Despite just now cutting their proper debut, the Furnaces have already burned through a pile of drummers (Ryan Sawyer bravely grips the sticks here), and the duo's brother/sister throwdown seems volatile enough to ignite just about anything seated directly in its blazing path. They spew the best kinds of sparks, though: accessible, but skewed and peculiar enough to keep you peeking nervously over your shoulder every couple of minutes.  From: https://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/3271-gallowsbirds-bark/

The Left Banke - Pretty Ballerina

 

Tom Finn, the last surviving member of the Left Banke’s classic lineup, died on June 27, 2020 after years of declining health. Finn’s death followed the recent passings of his former bandmates Michael Brown, George Cameron and Steve Martin Caro (billed as Steve Martin during his years with the band), as well as  songwriter/instrumentalist Tom Feher, a frequent collaborator during the band’s original run. In The Left Banke’s ’60s heyday, the New York outfit’s persistent “baroque rock” tag failed to fully convey the breadth and depth of its exquisitely textured arrangements, it’s heart-tugging three-part harmonies and its evocative, emotionally resonant songwriting. The band began its recording career at the top, launching their career with the iconic, Brown-penned single “Walk Away Renee,” which became a Top Five hit and remains an enduring, much-covered pop classic. But the inexperienced teenaged combo quickly ran afoul of a series of mishaps that helped to derail its promising career. Indeed, the Left Banke’s history is strewn with poor choices, missed opportunities, interpersonal acrimony, squandered potential and managerial neglect. Originally anchored by a fragile musical prodigy and managed by his Murry Wilson-like father, the band was prematurely destabilized by internal dissension and outside pressures. Despite this, the Left Banke’s first two albums, 1967’s Walk Away Renee/Pretty Ballerina and 1968’s The Left Banke Too, rank with the era’s most distinctive and enduring music. And the group’s subsequent absence from the public eye, combined with the longstanding unavailability of its albums—finally remedied when Sundazed Music reissued them on CD and LP in 2011—only increased the Left Banke’s mythic stature amongst its admirers. Even in the heady musical atmosphere of 1967, “Walk Away Renee,” and its Top 20 followup “Pretty Ballerina,” also written by Brown, stood out. The Left Banke’s beguiling blend of youthful innocence, autumnal melancholy and precocious musical sophistication remains in a class of its own.  From: https://pleasekillme.com/the-left-banke-story/

Mean Mary - Iron Horse

A singer and songwriter with a gift for connecting with sounds of the past, Mean Mary (real name, Mary James) has gained a loyal following for music that draws on vintage country, bluegrass, and traditional folk with just a touch of modern-day flash. A performer since she was six years old, Mean Mary grew up on the work of country artists like Dolly Parton and Hank Williams, Jr., but as she matured, she developed a taste for American folk songs of the Civil War era, and by the time she began recording prolifically with 2006's Thank You Very Much, she was combining songs of the past with fresh material that reshaped the sounds of history with her strong, emotive, blues-influenced vocals as well as her capable instrumental skills on banjo, fiddle, and guitar. While acoustic traditionalism remained the hallmark of Mean Mary's music, on albums like 2012's Walk a Little Ways with Me and 2016's Sweet found her incorporating more contemporary themes and sounds to her performances without compromising her creative vision.
Mary James was born in Geneva, Alabama on March 22, 1980, though her family lived in Florida. Her parents were rugged individualists, and when she was young, the family relocated to Northern Minnesota not far from the Canadian border, where they lived in a makeshift tent while her father built a log cabin by hand. James became interested in music when her brother, who had joined the military, sent her folks a guitar and some tapes of country artists he liked. James especially enjoyed the Dolly Parton and Hank Williams, Jr. numbers on the tape, and after learning to sing the songs, her mother taught her to play from instructional books, and she was able to read music before she entered kindergarten. By the time she was six years old, James' family had returned to Florida and the youngster was writing and performing her own songs; she became a regular on a local Alabama television series The Country Boy Eddie Show, and one of her songs, "Mean Mary from Alabam," was popular enough that it inspired her stage name, Mean Mary. She and her family opted for home schooling as she was playing regular concerts and practicing her music up to seven hours a day; she passed high school GED when she was nine. She was in her early teens when her brother Frank James joined the act, and their repertoire began leaning to traditional folk songs and songs of the Civil War as they found a lucrative specialty performing at civil war reenactments and other events celebrating American history.
After a spell in California, where Mary and Frank tried their luck in the film industry, she relocated to Tennessee, and had returned to performing when an auto accident nearly ended her life and career. In February 2003, Mary was in the front passenger seat of a car traveling on slippery pavement during a rainstorm when the vehicle spun out of control and she was thrown against the dashboard and through the windshield. The speedy intervention of emergency medical providers saved Mary despite her injured neck, but doctors soon determined that one of her vocal cords had been paralyzed. After extensive physical therapy, Mary returned to live performing, relying on her instrumental skills since she could only sing for short periods. (Mary can play 11 instruments, including banjo, guitar, and violin.) She performed extensive vocal exercises after her doctors discovered the injured cord was showing signs of recovery, and in 2006, she was well enough to cut an album with the group Jamestown, Thank You Very Much.
A solo single, "Ding Dong Day," arrived in 2008, and Mary's first full-length album on her own, Walk a Little Ways with Me, was issued in 2012. During her time off from the road, she started writing prose, collaborating with her mother Mary James on the novel Sparrow Alone on the Housetop, published in 2011. Between 2013 and 2018, Mary would publish five more books in tandem with her mother, four novels and a spiritual memoir. Mean Mary's audience grew when she began posting videos of her performances on line, which also helped spread word about her outside the United States. Along with a busy performance schedule and much time devoted to writing, Mary was prolific as a recording artist; she brought out the solo albums Year of the Sparrow (2013) and Sweet (2016) before cutting an album with her brother Frank, 2017's Down Home. 2018's Blazing was a set of songs meant to accompany her novel Hell Is Naked, published the same year, and in 2019 Mary was back with the LP Cold.  From: https://www.allmusic.com/artist/mean-mary-mn0001761489#biography

The Hooters - Karla With a K

After two years of extensive touring in support of their first major label success, Nervous Night, the Philadelphia based group The Hooters returned to the studio to record One Way Home. Like their breakthrough predecessor, this album was co-produced by Rick Chertoff, a former executive at Columbia Records, along with the band’s primary songwriters Eric Bazilian and Rob Hyman. Unlike its predecessor, One Way Home was heavily folk and Americana influenced and a testament to the Hooters desire to put the music first as well as experiment with the new influences and instruments they discovered during their extensive touring.
Although there are some similarities in songwriting and instrumentation, One Way Home is a clear step forward from Nervous Night in terms of production. That 1985 release is heavy with slick, pop, eighties style production while this 1987 album, although still clearly catchy pop, is closer to the Hooters’ signature rootsy mixed sound. Along with Bazilian and Hyman, the band consisted of rhythm guitarist John Lilly, bassist Andy King, and drummer Dave Uosikkinen, who had been with the band since its inception in 1980. Uosikkinen’s distinctive drumming is the backbone of The Hooters sound as he hits those drums hard and with an intensity that keeps the sound loud and right up front.
The album begins with “Satellite”, an example of the Hooters ability to artfully blend modern synth sounds with traditional instruments. The song was inspired by a televangelist broadcasting his message and includes some space aged synthesizer sounds. “Karla with a K” takes this one step further by making a accordion sound really hip and fresh. The song, named after a hurricane, was inspired by a street performer the band met in Louisiana.
The band also included an updated version of “Fightin’ On the Same Side” from their independent album, Amore – still upbeat but with a slower tempo and the awesome addition of accordion. “Johnny B” is a haunting song about fighting addiction with an outstanding guitar solo and harmonica accents. This song remains very popular to this day with the band’s German fans. “Hard Rockin’ Summer” was inspired by a group of “heavy metal” kids who would hang out outside the band’s rehearsal space. The title song, “One Way Home” is perhaps the best on the album. It has a heavy reggae beat, similar to the Nervous Night version of “All You Zombies”. The lyrics are dark and spiritually cryptic similar to Zombies as well. “Washington’s Day” is akin to a campfire sing a long and is rumored to be Bob Dylan’s favorite Hooters Song. It has a hook that can get a crowd swaying in unison. “Graveyard Waltz” has the same eerie feeling as that on the earlier “Where Do the Children Go?”, as both songs deal with death, depression, and thoughts of suicide.
Although One Way Home did not enjoy the mass commercial appeal of its predecessor, it did open up the European market for the band due to the popularity of “Satellite” across the Atlantic. In fact, after the band performed the song on Britain’s Top Of the Pops in December 1987, they were privileged to meet their idol Paul McCartney. A month earlier, on Thanksgiving night 1987, The Hooters headlined a show at The Spectrum in Philadelphia, which was broadcast live on MTV and Westwood One radio network simultaneously, perhaps the absolute pinnacle of their American success.  From: https://www.classicrockreview.com/2012/10/1987-hooters-one-way-home/

Lisa Loeb & Nine Stories - Taffy

Guitar Girl Magazine: When did you begin playing guitar and who were some of your musical influences?

Lisa Loeb: I started playing guitar when I was probably about 14 years old. I played briefly at school, but I really got into it at summer camp. My friend Alan Doff showed me how to play “Stairway to Heaven” and a couple of other songs. I started playing acoustic guitar there and soon after I got a Fender Stratocaster Guitar – it was a 1972 reissue – with a Carvin DCM150 amp, which was influenced by one of my favorite guitar heroes Andy Summers from the band The Police. I was really influenced, or in my mind at least, by Led Zeppelin’s Jimmy Page and Jimi Hendrix. Even bands like The Cure that had very interesting guitar parts. Their guitar player would play these interesting textures and melodies. Johnny Mars from The Smiths also had these intriguing textures and melodies, as well. There was also some new wave music like the guitar part in Thomas Dolby’s The Flat Earth, it was more textured, and very influential.

GGM: When hearing the guitar players in the present time, is there anyone who sticks out to you?

LL: There are so many good guitar players now, too! The Arctic Monkeys with the way their guitar sounds in their music is really strong and bold. Dave Grohl with the guitar playing that he puts into his music. The really extreme sounds that Nine Inch Nails uses; I don’t listen to them a whole lot, but what I have heard the guitar playing is really there. There are a ton of people I’m forgetting. There’s a lot of guitar playing going on! There might be less of soloing with some of the music going on today, but different people are providing interesting textures that support the songs in a lot of the bands.

GGM: Are there any guitars that you prefer to play?

LL: The one that I play the most is my Taylor 512 C; it’s a little smaller, not a tiny, but a smaller acoustic guitar with a cutaway that I bought in the early ‘90s at Matt Umanov Guitars. It’s a custom guitar that he had put together. I really like that it’s small; it fits my body, it stays in tune really well, the tone is great, and it’s great to work with in the studio because you can add a lot more bass or whatever you want in the studio depending on the mic placement and the way it’s played. I also do love the older guitars. I have an old, old Martin, and I’m always looking for an older Gibson. Electric-wise, I play a lot of different electric guitars. I do have a really great Gretsch – it’s one of the pea green Gretschs that is on a little bit smaller scale. Also, my husband just gave me a shell pink Fender Strat, a reissue Strat, which is really cool. I do end up playing acoustic more than electric just because that’s usually what I take on the road with me, but I also have a Gibson SG, an old one from 1958 that I really love. It’s just really a plug-in-and-play kind of guitar and it has a great tone.

GGM: What was it like collaborating with Chad Gilbert, from New Found Glory, on the new album No Fairy Tale?

LL: It was amazing! They had covered my song “Stay” on a New Found Glory record, and years later, he came to me to see if he could produce a record for me. More of a poppy-punk-rock record; something a little more extreme than what I had done in the past. I actually thought it was a great idea! I like the idea of doing something different and I loved his enthusiasm. We worked together to make this record, which was really interesting to me because he brought in Tegan & Sara, which was a band that I was specifically influenced by while writing these songs not knowing I was going to be making this record. They are actually a band I listen to, to get in the writing mood, because I really like the way they write. I ended up having two Tegan & Sara songs on my record, and had Tegan & Sara sing on it, too. It was great working with Chad because he is a great producer and he knew exactly what he wanted. I appreciated the fact that he went with a really edgy guitar sound which I really like. Some people shy away from those when working with me because they think it is too intense, but it’s something I actually really like! He was also very helpful in my vocal direction, which I’m not always super open to vocal direction. He helped me get more of a stronger sound and more rhythmic.

GGM: Are there any future plans of touring?

LL: I don’t do the kind of tours that I used to, where you put an album out and then go out on tour for two months and then come home and start on a new record. Instead, I’m always going out on the road, like last weekend I was doing an event up in Palo Alto. I have a week of touring coming up in different areas and then another week of shows in other areas. I try to balance how much I go out with how much I really want to stay home and be with my kids. I’m just trying to feel out that balance. I know last year I did a line-up of shows that ended up being a week and a half and that was just too long for me. The kids were fine when I came home but I wasn’t comfortable with that. Luckily, I have a lot of work here in Los Angeles to do, so it all ends up working out. But it’s definitely a process! I’m sure other parents can understand, especially with really young kids. Hopefully when my kids get a little bit older we can do the kind of traveling I did when I was a kid, where we can take a really great drive and do a bunch of different cities and look up different monuments and natural things like caverns in New Mexico, or something. Hopefully when the kids’ bedtime gets a little bit later and they’re not napping, it’ll be a little bit easier to travel with them. I would love to be able to do something like that with them because I do have a certain amount of control over my schedule and we can take advantage of the days and do different things during the day. Then I can do a show at night, so hopefully we can take advantage of that when they are older and take summer vacations.

From: https://guitargirlmag.com/interviews/interview-with-lisa-loeb-on-musical-influences-guitars-touring-and-more/

Free - Doing Their Thing 1970

Along with Cream and Led Zeppelin, Free stands as one of the most influential bands of the late 1960’s British blues boom. Formed in London during the spring of 1968, Free‘s original lineup included drummer Simon Kirke, bassist Andy Fraser, lead vocalist Paul Rodgers and guitarist Paul Kossoff. Kirke and Kossoff were heavily influenced by American blues artists and, as teenagers, joined an R&B band called Black Cat Bones. Despite their youth, Kirke and Kossoff were seasoned musicians with a strong and growing reputation among the London blues scene. “Kossoff,” explains Kirke, “while only 17, was a serious student of music.” Kossoff’s background had been classical and he had studied for years. But he also loved all of those great soul and blues records from America. Veteran producer Mike Vernon best known for his work with John Mayall enlisted Black Cat Bones to back Champion Jack Dupreee on the legendary pianists When You Feel the Feeling album for Blue Horizon. Apart from their celebrated session with Dupree, Kirke and Kossoff grew restless and disbanded the group.
While scouting for a vocalist to front their new band, Kossoff and Kirke visited the Fickle Pickle, an R&B club in London’s Finsbury Park. It was here that the two first heard Paul Rodgers, a young vocalist then performing with Brown Sugar. Kirke and Kossoff were immediately impressed with Rodger?s expressive voice and charismatic style, and recruited him for their group. “Paul owed a great deal to Otis Redding,” recalls Kirke, “his voice had power and presence. We knew that he was – and still is – unique.” With Rodgers in the fold, Kossoff and Kirke, to round out their new ensemble, turned to one of their mentors, British blues legend Alexis Korner. “Korner was a big help to us,” says Kirke simply. “Kossoff had been very friendly with him and Alexis recommended Andy Fraser to us. Though Andy was only 15, he had played with John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers, which really won our respect. When we first saw him play, he was sitting in with Alexis’ Band, wearing these flared trousers and ruffled shirts with rough collars.” “We thought, bloody hell, who is this little punk! But when he started playing we knew that he was really quite good. Impressed with Fraser’s abilities, Korner helped arrange an set up at the Nag’s Head Pub in Battersea,” remembers Kirke. “It was great, a very fertile meeting. In fact, at that initial get together, we wrote six blues based songs. About five or six hours in, Alexis came down and stood in the wings watching. He not only gave us his seal of approval, he also gave us our name: Free.”
Korner’s simple choice met with immediate approval. “You must remember,” says Kirke, “in those days, it was all sort of arty-farty in Britain. Jack Bruce, Ginger Baker and Graham Bond once had a band called Free at Last which was a name we really liked, however it had already been used though we did use it later as the title for one of our albums. We were a blues band, so we decided on Free, which we thought was something a bit more nebulous.” Beginning with that initial jam session, Free sought to establish their own distinct sound and style, shunning excess amplification and instrumentation for sparse arrangement and a gritty, high energy mix of rock and blues. “Though we were only kids fresh out of adolescence,” explains Kirke, “we were very serious about the direction of our music. We were never interested in the trappings of psychedelia. We wanted it very simple Bass, Guitar, Drums and Vocal. Paul Rodgers could play both bass and guitar but we rarely called on him for it. We never wanted to have a gaudy sound.”
1968
On Korner’s recommendation, Free was signed to Chris Blackwell’s Island Records and, subsequently A&M Records in the U.S. Working with producer Guy Stevens, Free entered London’s Morgan Studios to begin recording Tons of Sobs, their debut album. Despite the band’s emerging success as a touring unit, capturing their sound in the studio was, at least initially, more of a challenge.”We were really wet behind the ears when we went to record Tons of Sobs,” explains Kirke, “we didn’t know what to do. Our producer, Guy Stevens, was very talented and was forever buzzing about the studio. Guy sensed that we were struggling and he pulled us aside. He told us to relay and just play the two 45-minute sets that we had been playing in the clubs. That’s how we did the album. Tons of Sobs (a title coined by Stevens) was recorded in a week. When I think about it today, it seems amazing. Now it seems to take a week to get the right snare sound!” Released in November 1968, Tons of Sobs and tracks such as I’m a Mover and The Hunter were obvious examples of the band’s earthy roots and considerable blues influence. Walk In My Shadow, cited by Kirke as the first song the band ever wrote together, is equally charged, powered by Kossoff’s muscular riffing and Rodgers confident lead vocal. On the heels of Tons of Sobs, Free followed with Broad Daylight, their stylish debut single. However, despite a superb vocal performance by Rodgers, the song failed to chart in both the U.S. and U.K. “As a single, Broad Daylight was a disaster,” remembers Kirke. “I think it sold three copies in Sheffield. It was a funny song, totally unrepresentative of the group at the time. Even though it was early on in our career, the release of Broad Daylight was when I had my first inkling that Fraser wasn’t quite on the same wavelength as Kossoff and I. Andy wrote it with Paul and was really insistent that it become a big single for us. It just wasn’t meant to be.”
1969
Despite their lack of chart success to date, the band enjoyed a loyal following built on regular tours throughout Britain. That effort appeared to pay immediate dividends with the release of Free, the band’s second album, in 1969. With Free, the group displayed an emerging individual style framed by Kossoff’s stinging lead guitar, Fraser’s bass, Kirke’s rock solid beat and Rodgers anguished vocals. Unburdened by extended solos or lengthy jams typical of the era, such powerful original material as I’ll Be Creepin’ showcased the talents of Kossoff and Fraser, while tracks such as Woman provided a vehicle for Rodgers considerable vocal prowess. Behind the scenes, Fraser’s reputation as a child prodigy was further enhanced by his contributions to Free. “Fraser’s bass playing on I’ll Be Creepin’ was fantastic,” says Kirke, “I always felt that, pound for pound, Fraser had the most talent of the four of us. Fraser was quite advanced for his age and, in many ways, a lot like John Paul Jones of Led Zeppelin-someone who could play a number of instruments well and was a strong, but quiet influence.”
In America, neither of Free‘s first two albums had generated much interest. Their big break would come in Summer of 1969, when the band was asked, along with Delany & Bonnie, to open dates on Blind Faith‘s massive U.S. Tour. “That turned out to be very fortuitous for the band,” recalls Kirke. “Our tour with Blind Faith ended with a big show at Madison Square Garden. Afterwards, we were offered a chance to play at Woodstock, but that fell through. Instead, we were offered a week’s worth of gigs at Ungano’s popular Nightclub in New York. The second night that we were there, Clapton and Baker walked in and we were stunned, absolutely in awe, because we had very little contact with them during the tour. Clapton came backstage and asked Kossoff to show him how he got such strong and fluid vibrato in his playing. Kossoff nearly died. What, me showing you stuff?? You must be joking! But Clapton was serious, as Kossoff, among the guitarists fraternity, had really begun to develop a name for himself.
1970
With two strong albums and nearly two years of touring already under their belt, the quartet’s combination of blues and rock was, perhaps, best captured on their seminal Fire and Water album, released in 1970. An engaging mix of ballads and strident rockers. Fire and Water also featured All Right Now, the group’s breakthrough single. An edited version of All Right Now had a major chart impact, reaching No. 2 on the U.K. single chart and, in the USA, No. 4 on the Billboard chart. Driven by Kossoff’s incessant riffling, All Right Now has proved remarkably durable, remaining, nearly 25 Years later, the band’s signature tune. According to Kirke, the song actually drew its roots from necessity. “All Right Now was created after a bad gig in Durham, England. Our repertoire at that time was mostly slow and medium paced blues songs which was alright if you were a student sitting quietly and nodding your head to the beat. However, we finished our show in Durham and walked off the stage to the sound of our own footsteps. The applause had died before I had even left the drum riser. When we got into the dressing room, it was obvious that we needed an uptempo number, a rocker to close our shows. All of sudden, the Inspiration struck Fraser, and he started bopping around singing All Right Now. He sat down and wrote it right there in the dressing room. It couldn’t have taken more than ten minutes.” Heavy Load and Oh I Wept also from Fire and Water were superb examples of Free‘s unique marriage of solemn blues and swaggering hard rock. With the release of Fire and Water, Rodgers had emerged as one of hard rock’s premier vocalists. “In the studio,” remembers Kirke, “Paul was a one take wonder. He might have done an occasional vocal twice, but that was it. His vocal style was very dry and stripped down with no embellishments at all. I can’t remember one instance when Paul used any effects such as reverb on his voice. What you hear on those record’s is exactly what he sounded like – and that’s what makes him really, really special.”  From: https://freebandofficial.com/biography/

Richard & Linda Thompson - Just the Motion

From 1973 to 1982, British folk legend Richard Thompson (having quit Fairport Convention in 1971) recorded as a duo with his wife Linda Thompson. This period saw a great amount of critical praise for Richard’s songwriting and Linda’s voice, though not much popular success. Following their divorce, both pursued solo careers. The Thompsons recorded three albums, I Want to See the Bright Lights Tonight (1974), Hokey Pokey (1975) and Pour Down Like Silver (1975), before they decided to leave the music business and moved to a Sufi commune in East Anglia. Songwriting was by Richard throughout, lead vocals generally by Linda, and backing by a consistent core band of English folk-rock stalwarts.
I Want to See the Bright Lights Tonight showed a clear development from Richard Thompson’s first solo effort Henry The Human Fly with Linda’s vocals adding grace, as well as the opportunity for Richard to write from a female perspective. Although Thompson’s trademark gloom is already evident, the lightness and beauty of the arrangements counterbalances this to produce moments of great beauty. The use of brass, from the renowned CWS silver band in particular, takes forward Thompson’s continuing crusade to find a more contemporary and ordinary expression of Englishness in music,(as opposed to say the forays into the Morris form of his Fairport contemporary Ashley Hutchings, solo and with The Albion Band). The next year’s release, Hokey Pokey, to some extent repeats the formula, although it is improved in production values, and is stylistically more adventurous still. A Heart Needs a Home is a minor miracle of songwriting, expressing the longing for love without cynicism and has a standout multi-tracked vocal from Linda.
Pour Down Like Silver extended the reach of Richard and Linda’s music, and without the occasional weaker tracks of the preceding releases. Here the writing cynicism is balanced with humour, (Hard Luck Stories, Streets of Paradise), and love and need is expressed directly, and to touching effect (Jet Plane in a Rocking Chair, Beat the Retreat). The impact of Sufism on their lives is expressed in Night Comes In, which borrows imagery from Sufi mystic poetry, and the practice of finding union with the Spirit through dance. The playing, arrangements and production are uniformly excellent throughout.
In 1978, Thompson decided to take his family out of the commune and go back to their old home in Hampstead. He also decided to return to making music, partly because, as he commented at the time, he’d come to realise “that [he] wasn’t really any good at anything else”. Re-uniting the core band, the resulting album, First Light, was warmly received by the critics but did not sell particularly well. Neither did its follow up, 1979’s harder-edged and more cynical Sunnyvista. Chrysalis Records did not take up their option to renew the contract, and the Thompsons found themselves without a contract, but not without admirers.
About a year later Joe Boyd signed the Thompsons to his small Hannibal label and a new album was recorded. Shoot Out the Lights included new recordings of many of the songs recorded in 1980, and was clearly a very strong album. Linda Thompson was pregnant during the sessions, and so the album’s release was held back until the Thompsons could tour in support of the new album. Linda’s pregnancy also meant that she did not sing on all of the songs. On its release in 1982, Shoot Out the Lights was lauded by critics and sold fairly well – especially in the USA. The Thompsons, now a couple for professional purposes only, toured the USA to support the album and then went their separate ways. Both the album and their live shows were well received by the American media, and Shoot Out the Lights effectively relaunched their career – just as their marriage was falling apart. As against the first phase of their career, this last offering is sparer, without the instrumental augmentation that characterized the earlier albums, much more rock oriented, and altogether more ferocious. Although Thompson in interviews has always resisted over-personal interpretations of his songs, it is difficult not to see in its energy, tone and themes the difficulties of the final stages of the Thompson’s marriage, transmuted into musical gold.  From: https://thevogue.com/artists/richard-linda-thompson/#bio

Uni and The Urchins - Subhuman Suburbia

New York City is home to many artists, and among those who live under its gloriously creative umbrella is glam rock group UNI and The Urchins. The band—comprised of bassist Charlotte Kemp Muhl (who goes by Kemp), frontman/vocalist Jack James, guitarist David Strange, and drummer Andrew Oakley—has recently celebrated the drop of their debut album Simulator via Chimera Music, the artist-run label from Kemp and Sean Lennon, and is gearing up to have a fruitful 2023 in its wake. As part of the band’s debut record release, High Times has the exclusive worldwide premiere of the music video for the single “Dorian Gray,” which provides a trippy experience through both sound and visuals. To learn more about the album and the group itself, we drop in a Zoom interview which, per UNI’s request, takes place at 4:20pm. Kemp then kicks things off with her thoughts on cannabis in a free-flowing chat that morphs into an exploration of the group’s creative inspirations, how drugs and psychedelics can open new and different creative doors, and how authenticity pertains to the relationship between art, commerce, and creation as a whole.

Kemp: I feel like a lot of weed puritans are actually against the legalization in a sort of roundabout way because it fucks with their pipeline.

David Strange: But true or false: Part of the fun of doing drugs is that you’re not supposed to be doing them? I feel like part of [weed] being illegal is it made it so that you really had to want to do drugs. You had to really seek them out and you usually had to do something super sketchy to get them. I know I sure did when I was in junior high. We would take the train down to the worst place in the Bronx—so dangerous—and buy it from legitimate gangsters with fifty-dollars worth of crumpled up ones and fives that we’d scrounge together from all of our friends’ lunch monies. We got mugged a couple of times doing that.

Kemp: And they just sold you tic-tacs.

David Strange: God knows what was in that weed. When we got it, we were so fucking stoked to have lived through the experience that it made it that much more meaningful—the fact that [weed] was difficult to come by. Nowadays, in Los Angeles especially, you can go to the health food store and they’re like, “Have some flaxseed or pot brownies.”

Kemp: Or CBD lube.

High Times: Everything is now so infused.

Kemp: Well, isn’t music kind of the same way? It’s so easy-access now with Spotify and all of these apps. You just discover band after band that it takes the fun out of discovering them from an odyssey to the record shop or a friend making you a mixtape from some other city or something.

David Strange: With all of these technological advances making parts of life easier to attain, it takes the fun out of the experience and makes the experience less meaningful. It’s like the harder it is to do something the more you appreciate it, is what it boils down to. With weed being so normalized, I think we need to up the ante now.

Jack James: To David’s point on how drugs used to be hard to find or how music used to be hard to find, we did pick a band name that was universally very difficult to find on any streaming platform. And then we changed our band name and everyone was like, “Well, why on earth would you change it?” It’s the same thing with “Weed should be legalized, weed should be legalized,” and then it’s no longer fun.

High Times: Is the band name now more of a conversation piece than it was before?

Kemp: The unsexy truth of it is that the Spotify algorithm thought “UNI” was a prefix, so it would be the last thing to come up after “unicorn,” “university,” everything “uni.” But it’s a Japanese word that means “sea urchin,” which is one of my favorite foods. UNI and The Urchins is technically redundant, but it’s cool because “Urchins” makes it feel more like a collective and a Warhol factory. We’re UNI, but the “Urchins” is anyone who wants to be involved in this movement. There really haven’t been any art movements happening, and New York used to be such a hub for that. We’re very nostalgic for those times. Videos of Bowie hanging out with Dylan. It was such a scene. The Beach Boys used to be competitive in a friendly way with The Beatles and it made them make their best work. There’s not a lot of that, so the “Urchins” sort of represents the community we imagine we would like to have.

Jack James: For every video we do, there are so many people who come on and we can’t pay them what they’re worth, but they come on because they love it and it’s representative of the art collective like Kemp is saying. But the brass tax of it is no one could find us on Spotify [laughs].

David Strange: I also had a really funny joke about the real reason we had to change our name from what it used to be but I can’t say it.

Kemp: We’ll just have to take your word for it that it’s the best story.

David Strange: I just wish people weren’t so sensitive these days.

High Times: Sometimes it seems people want to go out of their way to be offended, which often takes more energy than to simply live your existence.

David Strange: What’s the last thing that offended you, Andrew?

Andrew Oakley: Me? I’m always offended.

David Strange: Just my question offended you, huh?

Kemp: We have a culture within our band of really hazing each other and it really takes the pressure off. There’s no feeling of walking on eggshells because we just call each other horrible things that I can’t even say here. It’s in a loving way.

Jack James: It’s nice, weirdly.

Kemp: And it’s very hard to offend us internally because we all come from a place of love and camaraderie. In terms of the album, the thing that we were saying earlier about access and deflating value, technology has done that with recording in a lot of ways. I spent all of my last money on investing in vintage music gear, for example. Over the course of the pandemic, I decided to go to the dark side a little bit and flirt with some of these more sample-based programs. It’s been interesting, but I am nostalgic for our old way of making music, which was tracking live-to-tape as a band. It does make me really think about the ratio of satisfaction-and-value to ease-and-accessibility. It’s great how egalitarian these new techs have made everything now. People who are barely a musician can now just push a button and make a track that sounds like a hit. I feel like such a grandpa about it.

High Times: There’s an authenticity that’s lost in any type of art when you can just press a button and it spits out something that wasn’t coming from a place within somebody.

David Strange: But maybe soullessness is the new soul?

Kemp: [Laughs]

David Strange: No, really. Warhol said the best kind of art is “business art.” He had the whole factory and he wasn’t even making his prints. Now there’s a huge argument in the Warhol community over whether the prints were real or not, or which printmaker was making them. Talk about going to the dark side, I’m kind of with you Kemp—I don’t think you can fight against the tide. I think it’s going in that direction and maybe there’s some new soul to be discovered within all the soullessness. One thing that Kemp has really gotten into lately and turned me onto is the new AI renderings that are creating original content. It’s putting to the forefront: What do you do to become a good artist? You study other artists, you learn your craft, you go to school, and you take inspiration from the things you want to take inspiration from. These AI generators are doing that by condensing a lifetime full of references and learning them down to thirty seconds and just processing the AI in a computer and spitting it out. Surely it’s the same thing if you’re one of the cool people in New York who lives downtown—like a DJ who knows all the cool references and Iranian psychedelic music from the seventies and afro-pop from the sixties—and you can put all of that into your pot and have these cool original tracks based upon it. Why is it then that we should look down upon AI for being able to do the same thing in a matter of seconds? Is it less authentic or is it evolution? I don’t know.

Kemp: What it is is like a gun to the samurai; it levels the playing field. It’s like Uber to the taxi driver. It’s inevitable, but it creates a class of resentful Luddites. It’s the Industrial Revolution 3.0.

David Strange: If I really feel something while I’m creating it, does that make the end result more important or better compared to if I feel nothing at all when I’m creating and the end result is really awesome?

High Times: Though if you’re feeling something in the moment of creation, people can pick up on that through the work.

Kemp: I agree with you, except a lot of people’s most successful work is the shit they cared the least about. There’s that scene in Of Mice and Men where he’s strangling a girl and he doesn’t mean to be strangling her and he’s like, “Why aren’t you smiling? Why aren’t you smiling?” She dies and he doesn’t mean to kill her and I feel like artists do that to their own art when they care too much. So, I think there’s a sweet spot there of being too precious. I think also with putting out a first album, you’re always overly precious and second guessing. That was definitely a factor for us in that we had like forty songs and we didn’t know which ones to put on the album. We were losing perspective, so we were finally just like, “Fuck it,” lets just throw out these ten songs and then put out the next one. We’re learning to be less precious, which is good. But I agree with you, you do have to have a boner for what you’re working on.

High Times: How did the song selection process work with having so much material?

Kemp: For Me, Jack is really my read on stuff because I go into a jazz trance and lose perspective on everything when I’m working on tracks. Each one that I’m working on at the moment becomes my favorite child. The way that Jack will respond to a rough mix will kind of be a gauge for me on what we should pursue.

Jack James: Although to be fair, the last single we put out—when I went upstate to the studio and [Kemp] was showing me the song “Subhuman Suburbia,” I was like, “I dunno, I’m just going to roll with it,” and then it turned out to be my favorite song I think off the album.

David Strange: Not to bring it all back to drugs, but sometimes when you think things are good, it’s really hard to trust yourself and your own internal experience versus other peoples’ external experiences.
For instance, I went on a really heavy trip recently—a full day thing—and went immediately to this party at the house where I was staying and just tripped my balls off. The other people at the party hadn’t been tripping, so I was explaining to them what had happened to me and how incredible and life changing the experience had been and it was so uninteresting to everyone at this party. The only person who it was interesting to was me.
I was telling them, “There I was in the jungle and I could see the fabric of the universe,” and people were like, “Oh, cool. Anyway, is that juice over there? I think I’m gonna go get a cup.” My point is, you can imagine [thinking] That song, I’m really feeling it, the way I was feeling after that trip and then other people are like, “Yeah, it’s cool that you’re feeling it, but I’m not feeling this at all.” It’s really hard to tell.

Jack James: For our songs, eventually we decided the songs we chose for the album encompassed whatever the hell we’re trying to say and we thought they were the best to fit on a ten song vinyl.

High Times: Creatively, is there something you hope that the audience and fans take from the debut record Simulator?

Kemp: This is where it gets like that Frank Zappa quote: “Talking about music is like dancing about architecture.” It’s always hard to put it into words. David Lynch was like, “If I wanted to put it into words, I would have just written a book instead of making a movie.” I think the best art is open to interpretation.

Jack James: Yeah, whatever they take from it is really nice and I appreciate them listening to it. It’s whatever you take from it. We keep an audience in mind, but it’s like-minded outcast weirdos like [us] and I hope they find some solace in that they have another friend who is out there when they listen to it.

Kemp: We’re all drawn to each other being weirdos and outcasts but we’re all very different and that’s what makes us feel like the motley crew from Lord of The Rings or something. I am very dark and nihilistic and Jack is very spiritual and positive. Andrew is the cool metal Black Sabbath analog rock dude and David is the insane freak poet charlatan hobo. Normally if we saw each other at a bar and we didn’t know each other, we’d probably never talk to each other. But we somehow ended up together and it’s this beautiful synthesis of our very different personalities. The thing that binds us is sort of feeling alienated from the rest of society.

High Times: Is there a lot of parallel thinking that happens when you’re creating or are you each bringing something unique to that process?

Jack James: I think both, though it depends, especially if we’re doing a music video and we’ve been around each other enough. You sort of finish each other’s sentences very quickly and there’s a simpatico thing going on. Other times, one of us will come with an idea and the others will look at it like, “What are you fucking talking about?” I think for as different as we are, we are very like-minded in what we enjoy to see and enjoy listening to.

High Times: How does cannabis and/or psychedelics play a role in that creation process?

Andrew Oakley: I’m pretty into edibles these days, especially something with heavy CBD.

High Times: Sativa or Indica?
Andrew Oakley: Sativa for sure, especially if you’re playing music. It gives you a little energy, gets you focused. It’s the way to go.

David Strange: We have all partaken on the spiritual quests together on multiple occasions and what I think is pretty cool about psychedelics is that they tend to open up doors. Those doors lead to rooms within you that already exist and there’s a lot of ways to open up those doors. Psychedelics are just one way to open those doors.

Kemp: I don’t think you can make rock or psych or glam or any of the genres that we love without having done psychedelics. It’s really what created the genres.

Jack James: I remember growing up thinking, “I bet all the coolest shit was written on drugs,” but then you try to do it and you find how difficult it actually is.

David Strange: That’s what I was saying about the doors—the drugs are the training wheels that show you those doors because, truly, a lot of the experiences that we’ve had either on stage or in studio have been psychedelic without any drugs at all. But if you can’t access those rooms on your own, sometimes doing a drug like that is the key that can open up that door and give you access to it. If you treat drugs in the right way, you will retain the combination or key to that door so you can go through it again and again when you need to.

Kemp: That being said, I think drugs should not be done flippantly. Yeah, it’s fun to occasionally do them at a party, but they definitely are spiritual keys and should be used with purpose like creativity, sex, thinking, and introspection.

From: https://hightimes.com/culture/music/uni-and-the-urchins-are-more-than-music-theyre-an-art-collective/

Lauren Ruth Ward - Soul Kitchen (Doors Cover)

Last December, singer-songwriter Lauren Ruth Ward released a seven-song Doors cover EP called Happy Birthday Jim. She also made a video for each song. The whole thing was done in just seven weeks, a way to keep busy while her label waited for the right moment to release her new album. “We did that out of sheer boredom. I was like, ‘I am dying, I need to put something out,” Ward says. “They’re being so precious about these songs and the plan. I want to respect it, but my fans are asking me when I’m going to put something out. It really drives me nuts.” The cover EP was a collaborative project. She gave each of the seven songs to a different videographer, told them what the color scheme should be, and gave them each two weeks to make their videos. She didn’t even watch the videos until they were uploaded. Despite having released the critically praised, fiercely queer art-rock record Well, Hell early in 2018 on Weekday, a subsidiary of Sony, putting together the Jim Morrison cover record on her own really excited her. There was a freedom to it that she really missed. “They want you to work with names,” Ward says. “In L.A., if you’re working with somebody in their closet in Sherman Oaks, I understand it sounds sketchy, but I’m like, ‘It is a very creative human being.’”
The label let her make the Morrison cover record on her own, but they didn’t see eye to eye on her overall career trajectory. She was actually relieved in early January when she got the call that Weekday had folded, leaving her without a label. “I’m super creative. I like to stay active,” Ward says. “That was such a problem. I didn’t foresee that. It would totally dampen who I am as a person, thus affecting my art.” Since being label-free, she’s already released the highly energetic and self-empowering “Valhalla” as a video, as well as the audio for low-key and reflective “Pull String.” She’s got several more songs and videos in the works, and she can’t wait to get to them all out. “I don’t really have a passion for an album. My thoughts don’t feel like they’re coming together as a chunk,” Ward says. “I’m just having a notion and writing about it, seeing a visual and creating it, and then releasing it as its own thing. That’s always been who I am.”
Originally from a small town in Maryland, she left her life as a hair stylist in 2015 and moved to L.A., where she entered the music scene full throttle. There she also felt a freedom to explore her sexuality. She’s now engaged to female singer-songwriter LP. Ward is fiercely creative musically and visually. Getting signed to a label seemed like the opportunity she needed, but she found that she’s much better suited to being independent and having no one telling her what she can and can’t do. She still works as a hair stylist in L.A. In fact, in the four years she’s lived there, she’s been able to build up her client base enough that she can now fund her music videos herself, and pretty much express herself how she wants.
“I see visuals for every song. Sometimes I see the music videos before the songs are finished, or when it’s being written,” Ward says. “Before the label, I wanted a music video for everything, but I couldn’t afford it. Now after the label, I have a day job that I can use to fund projects.” She’s had the unexpected offer this past year of joining a newly revived Divinyls. Through mutual friends, she met Divinyls guitarist Mark McEntee, who was blown away by her voice and energy, which reminded him of original singer Crissy Amphlett. They recorded a version of “I Touch Myself” with Ward and it was incredible. He booked a Divinyls tour in Australia earlier this year, but it got postponed due to some personal issues he was dealing with. She’s hoping it gets rescheduled soon. “My generation does not know them at all. I’m excited to be a megaphone for my generation to be like, ‘This band was insane,’” Ward says. “Some of my friends were like, ‘I saw you post about going on the road with some Australian band. And I looked them up and holy shit, Crissy Amphlett, I lived my life not knowing who this person is.’ I was excited to put them on blast, because they deserve it.”  From: https://www.goodtimes.sc/preview-lauren-ruth-ward-catalyst/

Motorpsycho - Spin, Spin, Spin (HP Lovecraft Cover)

Motorpsycho is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get. Or let’s kick off critically, because when it comes to the Trondheim-based band we do know we can expect a yearly dump of new music. Also in the past five years or so we know much of the releases consist of sprawling heavy prog rock (Gullvåg trilogy 2017-2020) or epic odes to the powerful psych rock of the 1970s. On this year’s offering Yay! Hans Magnus Ryan and Bent Sæther however do truly surprise by breaking away from the previous years and now deliver a summery acoustic folk rock album. With music from The Tubs and Ghost Woman already out there, summer solstice parties just became even more festive. On the other hand is this the Motorpsycho we want to hear? Let’s dig in. Yay! bursts with an array of flavours, much like its colourful cover art and musically again draws inspiration from 60s and 70s. Elements of acoustic folk rock reminiscent of Led Zeppelin’s substyle, as well as the dreamy and spiritual prog rock of bands like Yes shine throughout the album while that band also blends in their own Britpop phase from the mid-90s. The album features diverse tracks such as the two-sided Cold & Bored, which starts off as a simple acoustic song but also mixes through an airy Mediterranean vibe. Sentinels takes a mostly instrumental approach while Dank State brings a catchy singalong atmosphere. This lighthearted pop-format comes forth on several of Yay!’s songs. W.C.A.’s delicate melody and percussion or the summery finale The Rapture serve as good examples. To us Yay!’s best song is Hotel Daedalus which also happens to be the sole rocker on the album. As it partly draws inspiration from the psych rock age, Hotel Daedalus is the only handhold we have to last year’s Ancient Astronauts and what came before. This, together with the acoustic pop songs and the melancholic ballads of Loch Meaninglessness & the Mull of Dull and Real Again (Norway shrugs and stays at home) shape this 2023 release. In conclusion, Motorpsycho’s Yay! once again showcases their ability to evolve and surprise. This time a thorough change of course seemed inevitable since drummer Tomas Järmyr left and the band started showing signs of being stuck in the process of outdoing themselves. A less epic work therefore is a breather.  From: https://soundsfromthedarkside.com/2023/06/16/motorpsycho-yay/

Jazz, soul and folk guitarist/singer-songwriter, Terry Callier released his debut album in 1968 and continued recording until 1978 when he disappeared off the radar.  Amazingly, the reason for this was that (at this time) his music just wasn’t making him the living he so rightly deserved! For the best part of 20 years he disappeared! Callier’s musical career started as a teenager when he auditioned for Chess Records in 1962, but he didn’t release his first album for another six years. Recorded by Samuel Charters, who persuaded Callier to come to Prestige in 1964, the record was originally due for release in 1965, but was delayed for a further three years after Charters ran off to Mexico with the tapes shortly after the sessions were laid down. The crazy thing about this story is, that Callier didn’t even know that the album was released until his brother saw it for sale in a book shop! Craft Recordings later released a 50th anniversary edition in 2018. Written by Chicago Poet, Kent Foreman, Spin Spin Spin featured on Callier’s debut album, The New Folk Sound of Terry Callier.  This warm, inviting and jazz-tinged delight is simply stunning and Callier’s vocals are sublime and velvety. If you haven’t heard the whole album and like this tune, I can pretty much guarantee you’ll like the whole record! Interestingly, there was another take on this track released very close to Callier’s (also in 1968) and this is also a rather captivating listen – a rendition I can also wholly endorse! H.P Lovecraft’s version is quite a treat too!  From: https://thelisteningpostblog.wordpress.com/2022/02/18/song-of-the-day-terry-callier-spin-spin-spin/

Eurythmics - There Must Be An Angel (Playing With My Heart)

My childhood was filled with a very healthy overload of music and I was one of those incredibly lucky kids that saw the latter half of the ‘70s come to a close, lived through the entirety of the ‘80s, was a teenager as I entered the ‘90s and a fully blown young man as I entered the new millennium. My musical influences were, and are, as diverse as they possibly can be. A big part of this diversity had strong roots in the ‘80s and one band, Eurythmics, played an instrumental role in my musical education. Fresh from the success of the band’s two previous studio albums—Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This) and Touch, both released in 1983—the duo of Annie Lennox and Dave Stewart moved into a more commercial pop/rock sound for the first time with their fourth studio album Be Yourself Tonight. Pulling from the ‘60s and utilizing the sounds of American soul and British pop, Eurythmics managed to combine these two sounds perfectly on the album’s first track and lead single “Would I Lie To You?”
There is no denying that Eurythmics were at the forefront when it came to experimenting with their music via synth sounds and the usage of Lennox’s hauntingly, but incredibly soulful voice. For many, Be Yourself Tonight was a departure from this formula and was even perceived as “selling out” given its phenomenal commercial success. I disagree. Even with the introduction and implementation of a more traditional lineup and usage of instruments, their distinctive and somewhat unconventional take on the norm was still in full view. Be Yourself Tonight is no doubt Eurythmics’ most commercially successful studio album to date. The album spawned four singles, with the aforementioned lead track storming the charts around the globe, ultimately securing the number one spot in Australia, whilst cracking the top ten and top twenty in the US and UK respectively. Two months later, the duo released the gospel inspired “There Must Be An Angel (Playing With My Heart).” Again proving that Eurythmics where onto something special, the song hit number one in three countries, including the U.K., the only number one the band has ever achieved there. A harmonica solo by the legendary Stevie Wonder adds an extra, soulful layer to an already ethereal song.
Towards the latter half of 1985, the band turned up the soul to full blast by releasing “Sisters Are Doin’ It For Themselves,” featuring the Queen of Soul, Aretha Franklin. The feminist anthem was filmed in the now historical Music Hall in Detroit, Michigan and also featured three of Tom Petty’s Heartbreakers. Mike Campbell provided the lead guitar, Benmont Tench on the organ the legendary Stan Lynchan on drums, all bringing an extra layer to a song that remains anthemic to many women around the world to this very day. Tina Turner was originally offered the track by Eurythmics, but was unavailable. Imagine if there is a long-lost demo floating around somewhere out there of the Queen of Rock going head-to-head with Annie Lennox. One can dream. The fourth and final single from the album was “It’s Alright (Baby’s Coming Back).” Whilst it did break into the top 20 in the UK, it failed to make an impact elsewhere, like the album’s first three singles. The duo did go on to receive an Ivor Novello Award in 1986 for best song, recognizing the composition’s musical and lyrical importance.
There are some other treasures on this album too. “Conditioned Soul” opens with some beautiful instrumental work courtesy of the pan flute, which continues throughout the track, coupled with Dave Stewart showcasing some of his spectacular guitar work. Another equally interesting track on the album saw Elvis Costello join Lennox on vocals on the romantically fear laden “Adrian.” Yes, the commerciality is present in this album, but it was a move in the right direction both financially and yes, even creatively.
Whilst this album covers a wide array of musical styles, many of them new for the duo at the time, it is safe to say that each song independently brings something of value to this album. There is no question that Be Yourself Tonight is by far one of the best pop/rock albums of the 1980s. As mentioned earlier, the creativity and even grandeur that was delivered by Annie Lennox and Dave Stewart is something that is rarely rivaled, let alone heard today. Their innovation and ability to not succumb to the “machine” that was so prevalent with so many artists at the time meant that like most of their work, this album has also remained one of music’s finest masterpieces.  From: https://albumism.com/features/eurythmics-be-yourself-tonight-turns-35-anniversary-retrospective

Xiu Xiu - Pumpkin Attack on Mommy and Daddy

Xiu Xiu (pronounced shoo-shoo) is my favorite band. I’m drawn to them for many reasons, but some of those are the same reasons that people find Xiu Xiu polarizing and challenging to listen to. In the wake of their recently announced 15th album, Oh No, I’m here to provide a guide to Xiu Xiu, what I find appealing about them and how to get into them, because with a discography this diverse and wondrous, there’s something for everybody. To start, what does Xiu Xiu sound like? This is a difficult question to answer as they tend to change up their sound quite often and blend many genres. Xiu Xiu combines aspects of synth-punk, art pop, and post-industrial, often all in one song. It’s this unique blend of pop and noise that creates something truly unique and keeps me and many others hooked. It’s not just this unique sound that makes Xiu Xiu difficult to navigate, but also their lyrical style. Frontman Jamie Stewart’s lyricism is unparalleled. Though his brutal truthfulness is what made me fall in love with Xiu Xiu, some people might find it overwhelmingly sad, just wallowing, or in some cases even triggering. Jamie’s willingness to discuss personal struggles so openly is refreshing. As someone who struggles with trauma and depression, I have found comfort in Jamie’s words. No other artist I’ve found is so blunt; it’s terribly cathartic.  From: https://acrn.com/2021/03/03/ce-finding-comfort-in-a-hopeless-place-a-guide-to-xiu-xiu/

For over twenty years, Xiu Xiu have been confounding expectations, pushing boundaries, exploring personal experience through sound, and so, so much more. Those two decades are bursting at the seams with avant-rock, experimental pop, dreamy electronica, reimagined soundtracks, otherworldly collaborations – far too much to condense down into a few mere paragraphs here for your perusal. If you’re unfamiliar with their oeuvre, then our strongest suggestion is to plunge yourself straight in and see where you come up for air.  If your sonic explorations lead you directly to Roadburn 2024 then Xiu Xiu will be there waiting for you with a very special set titled The police bear such resemblance to those they pursue.  It’s part retrospective, part preview, all guaranteed to be something unforgettable.  They tell us: “For thee superb Roadburn Festival, we will be playing bad dream, newly intense, experimental arrangements of Xiu Xiu songs. The set will include unreleased songs from our next record and exploded versions of deep cuts and smashy smashy bangers.” So if you were doubting whether to pack your dancing shoes, the decision has hereby been made for you. Through their open-hearted approach to their own music over the years – in particular the vulnerability and candour of founding member Jamie Stewart – Xiu Xiu create a space to look inwards and shine outwards however you see fit. This set promises to be something special – we can’t wait to witness it.  From: https://roadburn.com/band/xiu-xiu/

Meat Puppets - Armed And Stupid

Usually slotted as part of punk music’s “post-punk” development during the 1980s, the Meat Puppets have surfed atop the rise and fall of that movement, riding beyond it into the “grunge” rock boom of the 1990s. Given such a history, it’s not surprising that critics have spent a decade arguing over the correct term for the band’s music, taking their cues from the mutations occurring from one Meat Puppets album to the next. “With each of their five albums,” Simon Reynolds wrote in Melody Maker, “the Meat Puppets have not so much made a giant leap forward as a perplexing step sideways; each time hitting on a totally new, totally original sound that any other band would have milked for 10 albums.” While Kurt Loder called them a “thrash band” in Rolling Stone in 1984, other critics later commented on their distance from the conventions of hardcore punk. One of the effects of such a resistance to tidy categorization has been the Meat Puppets’ reputation for forward-looking music—for anticipating and spearheading changes in musical style.
As teenagers, Cris and Curt Kirkwood and Derrick Bostrom, who would later create the Meat Puppets in the late 1970s, had grown up in the open spaces surrounding their hometown of Phoenix, Arizona. Brothers Cris and Curt arrived in Phoenix from Wichita Falls, Texas, in 1965, when Cris, the younger sibling, was about five years old. The Kirkwood family’s income came from racehorses that they owned. Bored with how little the city had to offer, the two brothers found recreation in using drugs amid Phoenix’s desert landscape. “Punk rock began as an urban phenomenon,” Ivan Kreilkamp wrote in Details, “a musical response to miles of concrete and industrial noise. The Meat Puppets were the first group to adapt punk to the twisted landscapes and open spaces of the American Southwest.” Curt Kirkwood told Kreilkamp, “There’s no trees, there’s no real society. It’s easy to get into drugs there because there’s nothing to do.” Their hallucinogenic experiences would eventually be credited with shaping the distinctive sound of their music. Kreilkamp, for example, speculated that “The Puppets’ music is rooted in the experience of three kids, heads throbbing with LSD-induced visions, riding motorcycles on a canal bed in the Saguaro desert.”
After a brief effort at the University of Arizona in Tucson in 1977, Curt returned home. Having had some musical training, including classical study, he and his younger brother started playing house parties with area bands. They also played in local cover bands, with Curt on guitar and Cris on bass. After one of the more successful local bands, Eye, broke up in 1979, the Kirkwood brothers decided it was time to do something on their own. At that point, Derrick Bostrom came on board to play drums. Bostrom had a practice space in which the Meat Puppets could shape their sound, already heavily influenced by an odd jumble that included the Grateful Dead, the Sex Pistols, Johnny Cash, and Iggy Pop. The group had no particular venue in mind, simply a desire to see what kind of music they could make. “I came to hardcore through experimental music,” Curt told David Fricke in a Melody Maker interview. “I started getting into Edgar Varese, when he was composing things that sounded like raindrops. I didn’t give a shit about composing anything. But I thought if I hooked up a couple of fuzzboxes to my guitar and turned it up real loud, and played faster than anybody could think, what was going to come out was going to be heavily impassioned.” Curt quickly emerged as the band’s major force, lending a compelling character on vocals and guitar, as well as his odd skill as a songwriter; Kreilkamp referred to him as the trio’s “chief visionary.” Jas Obrecht, writing for Guitar Player in 1994, described Curt as the “master of the enigmatic lyric and monotone delivery.”
While critics have often suggested the dual influences of drugs and the desert landscape on Curt’s style, the musician himself also attributes it to a specific childhood experience: “I had encephalitis when I was nine,” Curt told Reynolds, “my head swelled up, I was in a coma for a long time. After that I started to daydream an awful lot, I was able to pick and choose what I wanted from my imagination.” Reynolds dubbed the three “modern visionaries who liberate the flux of experience from the grids with which we attempt to structure and manage time and reality.”  From: https://www.encyclopedia.com/education/news-wires-white-papers-and-books/meat-puppets