The public television show Nova Science Now will have an interesting segment tonight on Auto-Tune, the program used by music producers to sweeten the vocals of many performers by putting their warbling notes back on pitch. It's not much of a factor -- I don't think -- in the music I listen to, but in pop, R 'n' B and hip hop music, its use is rampant. Some use it subtly to keep someone who is more pretty than talented from sounding off-key, while others use it blatantly to create new sounds and textures. The first time most folks heard it, however unknowingly, was on Cher's hit, "Believe."

Hip hop artists seem to be the most prevalent users/offenders. Some, like T-Pain, use it consistently to create a new sound, while Kanye West used it all over his recent 808s and Heartbreak disc to "sing." Sasha Frere-Jones with the New Yorker looks at the program's use in a recent essay.

The backlash is already well underway. Jay-Z will have a track on his forthcoming album called "D.O.A. (Death of Auto-Tune)," that criticizes those who lean on the program. The song's producer? Kanye West.

The Nova segment will provide some valuable context. How does it work? Why was it created? What is the result of its use? An example featuring some very accommodating Nova staffers and "The Star Spangled Banner" shows how completely -- and spookily -- Auto-Tune can be utilized.

Labels: music, technology

Many people probably left the Church behind sometime around the fadeout of "Under the Milky Way." Given the path the band has taken since, it's members are probably OK with that. And those fair-weather fans? It's definitely their loss.

Thirteen albums after the band's breakthrough with Starfish, the group has issued its best album in a decade or more. That album, Untitled #23, is the band's 23rd, and it is proof positive that acts with a deep enough creative well can continue to make music for years and years that sounds of a piece with its back catalog while mining new territory.

Untitled #23 makes no compromises. There is no single here, no uptempo rocker to throw radio's way. These dense soundscapes don't even necessarily stand out one from another until the orientation afforded by several listens takes hold. But it is a stellar effort despite those challenges. Things begin and end in two places: Steve Kilbey's one-of-a-kind vocals and the chiming guitar interplay between Marty Wilson-Piper and Peter Koppes. Those are the touchstones that let even the casual listener know that this is a Church record.

These songs glide rather than punch, insinuate rather than declare. Kilbey's vocal is still the focus, but Koppes and Wilson-Piper are willing to let their sinewy guitar lines wash over the listener in a gauzy tapestry while Tim Powles' drums nudge things along. Some have stronger hooks than others -- you''ll sing along with "Pangea," for example -- while others are more about setting a mood.

It's a great time to be a Church fan. Never mind that on an album-by-album basis the band is on a roll (2006's Uninvited, Like the Clouds was another fantastic album), but the musicians have been particularly prolific of late. The Church itself has added to the 10 tracks on Uninvited #23 with six extra tracks spread over two new EPs. "Pangea" gets its own EP with three non-LP B-sides (including one each by Wilson-Piper and Koppes, as well as an 18-minute bliss-out called "So Love May Find Us"), while the Coffee Hounds EP includes vocal and instrumental versions of "The Coffee Song" as well as a cover of Kate Bush's "The Hounds of Love."

Kilbey and Wilson-Piper also each have recent, well-received solo albums: Wilson-Piper's Nightjar and Kilbey's Painkiller. In addition, Kilbey is the latest collaborator in Pocket's series of digital EPs, contributing vocals to the track "Hear in Noiseville." The song offers a dancier context than Kilbey usually inhabits, but Pocket's dense songbed offers a warm seam that Kilbey fills with his distinctive vocal. It's on Pocket's forthcoming third EP in the series (the first was with Robyn Hitchcock) and is due July 21.

The band's "So Love May Find Us" tour continues through the second week of July in the U.S. in Canada. Kilbey took time out from all of that to offer a few enigmatic responses to some straight-forward questions. Anyone seeking more of this type of Kilbey-speak would do well to check out his fascinating blog, where you can find it in abundance. For those seeking a look at the band in performance, the group's visit to KCRW's "Morning Becomes Eclectic" show can be found here.

TIRBD: Moving soon into your fourth decade, how are you able to keep things fresh when you approach material that you've played for 10, 20 or even 30 years?

SK: good material is always fresh.

By the same token, having created music together for 30 years, do new ideas come from a different place than in the past? Is it an effort to ensure that something that feels new isn't simply a restatement of something that came before?

we build on the past.
who can tell where ideas come from...?
the heart and the mind as always

Untitled #23 feels like a very cohesive statement with a remarkably consistent tone. Were things left in the studio that didn't fit that feel, or did everything come together this week organically from the outset?

we recorded a lotta stuff
lotta stuff still in can
we are very random

Your music is cited as an influence on bands whose members weren't even alive when you formed the band. Do you hear a Church vibe in current music? Are you, in turn, influenced by newer music?

i rarely hear an influence from us in other bands
i doubt a new band would influence me at this stage of the game

You and Marty each have several solo albums to your names, and I wonder how these outlets ultimately affect the work of the Church? Are they a release valve, a way to experiment, or perhaps something else?

my records are what i do on my own
i have no different approach whatever i do
i just do whatever strikes me at the time

You each also excel at the visual arts. Beyond having built-in cover art for releases (Marty's photos and drawings on Untitled #23 and Nightjar, respectively) and your painting on Painkiller), what does this outlet do for you that making music does not? Does one inform the other in any way?

yes visual n musical art come from a similar methodology but have
different physical applications
you gotta get au fait with the visual world
think shadow instead of echo
think background instead of backing track

As you embark on a U.S. tour in support of the new album, what will the set lists look like? With 23 albums to your credit, is it difficult to fit in everything you want to play -- and the fans want to hear -- each night?

impossible to play one song from every album even
we just have to figure out a set that hits all bases

Labels: Monday Interview, music

It's no surprise that Beck has found a way to use technology to communicate directly with his fans and offer some exclusive content. A web site revamp allowed him to focus on a new project he's calling Record Club. It's a straight-forward concept: He gathers some friends in the recording studio, and they cover an album in one day. He'll upload a track to the site once a week. That's it.

First up: The Velvet Underground's The Velvet Underground & Nico (the one with Andy Warhol's banana on the cover for neophytes). Beck and friends --producer Nigel Godrich, drummer Joey Waronker, Brian Lebarton, Bram Inscore, Yo, actor Giovanni Ribisi, Chris Holmes, and "from Iceland, special guest Thorunn Magnusdottir" -- do a fine, reverent job with opener "Sunday Morning" (see clip below).

Beck talks about the process on the site: "An album will be chosen to be reinterpreted and used as a framework. Nothing rehearsed or arranged ahead of time." He also reports that the Velvet Underground album was selected "after lengthy deliberation and coming close to covering Digital Underground's Sex Packets."

Ostensibly this means that we can expect "Waiting For the Man" next week, with album-closing "European Son" the last week of August.

Record Club: Velvet Underground & Nico 'Sunday Morning' from Beck Hansen on Vimeo.

Labels: music, video, web

I don't throw something like this around lightly, but Deer Tick may be the band to finally take up the mantle laid down by the Replacements. First things first: the two bands sound nothing alike. There have been plenty of gravel-throated pretenders to Paul Westerberg's throne who fronted grungy rock combos. What I'm talking about here is something more: an attitude mixed with talent to burn that yields a restlessness channeled through a fried microphone and a battered amp.

When drawing the line between the two bands, it probably didn't hurt that singer John Joseph McCauley III invoked the 'Mats during the band's show last night at the Mill in Iowa City. After the quartet took a quick spin through the first portion of Fleetwood Mac's "The Chain" (the second cover of a young set; the second song was Tom Petty's "Breakdown"), McCauley laughed and said, "We're turning into the Replacements here." The amazing thing is that McCauley, in his early 20s, probably wasn't even born yet when the definitive document of that version of the Replacements, The Shit Hits the Fans -- the cassette of a drunken Replacements tearing through a sloppy set of covers during 1984 show -- was released. That, and subsequent covers of John Prine, John Cougar Mellencamp, the Rolling Stones, Bruce Springsteen, Buck Owens and Richie Valens, show these musicians are old souls wrapped in young bodies. Sound like anyone else you know?

So, what does Deer Tick sound like if it doesn't sound like the 'Mats? The Rhode Island band's own web site seems puzzled: "They have been labeled things like alt-country, and freak folk, which the band finds a little weird. Are things like 'alt' and 'freak' necessary to describe Deer Tick? Deer Tick doesn't think so." At times, McCauley sounds like Neutral Milk Hotel's Jeff Magnum, his voice having that same timbre and rattle. But his band leans much more south and west, able to conjure a hoedown on a dime, singing sweet, full harmonies all the while. It's an intoxicating mix made all the more potent by the fact that these are clearly kids who are learning every day and getting a kick out of showing off their new chops.

The band's debut, War Elephant, showed promise, but McCauley recorded everything himself and that makes for a somewhat claustrophobic listen. Those songs live had true power, particularly when it came to the vocals. And the new material, on the forthcoming Born on Flag Day (due next week) is even better.

I'm late to the party, but was happy to catch up quickly. For more about the band, you can check out this interview with NBC's Brian Williams:

Labels: music

So, despite raising more than $166,000 from fans and friends last month Paste magazine is downsizing. Literally. The magazine is about the size of the old TV Guide, though shorter, with only 46 pages. Publisher Nick Purdy writes that the full-size magazine has shifted to a once-every-two-months schedule, with smaller, single-topic issues to "tide you over" in between. "We've designed these mini-magazines to include a surprising amount of good stuff -- because after all, it''s the content that matters, not the size of the paper."

Of course, it is the size of the paper. Though Purdy is right in saying that the issue packs a surprising amount of content into its 46 mini pages, it's a fraction of what it offers in even the most ad-strapped, thin full-size issues of yore. It's a pamphlet, essentially. The magazine started out with a publication schedule not much different that it has now, so I'm unsure about the need for these mini-issues. It can't be advertising; there are only about 13 pages of ads here, which for a 46-page issue is pretty paltry ad support.

As it is, the magazine seems to be pushing subscribers away from print. A huge ad (well, as huge as you can get with 5 1/2"x8" page) for the magazine's digital subscription touts two options: Digital Paste for 99 cents a month, or Digital VIP Paste, for $2.99 monthly. The first gets you the digital edition and the right to download the music sampler, the other offers two samplers, other MP3s, access to the digital archive, a T-shirt and other goodies. Oh, and if you want to get the magazine as, you know, a magazine? "Physical copies of the magazine and sampler, of course, are available as options. More information online." "Hey, caveman, we don't want to print and mail this thing, all right? Just enter a credit card number and save a tree!"

This isn't unique. Good magazine (a non-music title) published a similar-sized "recession issue" this spring to announce it's own reduction in frequency, while Blender magazine decided to go online-only around that same time (while Blurt, which moved online after the demise of Harp, actually moved back into print for at least one issue).

I've never been a huge fan of Paste -- it's a little too NPR, Dad-rock friendly for me -- and this move does nothing to change my mind. If I want to read about music online, there are plenty of places to do so. If I want to read good, long-form music criticism surrounded by interesting photos printed on paper, the number of outlets is dwindling.

Labels: magazines, music

J. Robert Lennon has a new novel out, and it's about time. About time that someone finally stepped up to publish him, that is. You see, he has written books since 2003's Mailman. Four of them, in fact. But for those of us in the U.S. -- you know, his home country -- it has been difficult to read any of it.

First came Pieces for the Left Hand, a brilliant collection of 100 very short stories, each written while his child took a 45-minute nap. Granta in the UK saw fit to publish it in 2005, and those of us lucky enough at the time to score an imported copy reveled in its incisive, hilarious prose. Next came Happyland, a novel deemed too dangerous by Lennon's publisher due to the similarity between its subject and the founder of the American Girl doll company. That was shortened and serialized in Harper's magazine. I've yet to read it, because I want to read the entire book when someone wises up and puts it out. After that came a crime novel that Lennon had yet to publish. Finally, he brought forth Castle, officially his fifth novel, published this spring by Graywolf Press. Graywolf also brought out a U.S. edition of Pieces for the Left Hand, which brings us up to date.

I interviewed Lennon for a piece on CorridorBuzz.com to preview his reading in Iowa City on Tuesday. As usual, I asked about more than could possibly fit in the piece, and planned to run the rest here. But I love Lennon's work, and wanted to give him as much publicity as possible, so I sent a few more questions his way and turned this into a full-blown Monday Interview.

Before we get to that, however, a bit more from the original interview. We touch on many of these points more fully in the Q&A that follows. For example, I asked him about the idea of self-publishing, particularly the crime novel. He said he has considered it, even considered putting it out as an ebook only. But he said he wants to hold out for the possibility of it coming out in physical form from a real publisher.

"I really like working with a publisher," he said. "There's probably some kind of taint to self publishing, if you do that you have succumbed and are perceived as a low-class operation. However, I don’t think most readers give a crap where the book is coming from. They just want it to be good. Still, I want to stay in the good graces of the people I work with in publishing."

We also talked about politics. His novel, Castle, makes reference to the Iraq war, and he has said that Happyland was his take on "Rovian" politics. I asked if the Obama administration would cool the fires that fueled these works. He said politics isn't obsessing him the way it once was, but added that "it's a danger to thinking that the Obama administration is going to be a cure-all. I haven’t totally approved of everything Obama has done, but when I disagreed with Bush, I felt there was a maliciousness, I felt like they were sticking it to me, felt there was malicious intent. With Obama, I really do think he's trying to act in the best interest of the citizens he’s serving."

Castle is set in upstate New York, where Lennon lives. So was Mailman. Other of his books were set in Montana, where he earned his MFA. I asked if setting books in the places he has lived was a matter of convenience, or if the stories he wanted to tell needed to be set there.

"It's not so much a convenience, but I enjoy finding inspiration in the place that I’m at. Upstate New York is not not remote, but it is fairly isolated. If you go for a walk in the woods and you feel like you’re in the middle of nowhere, but you'll find the remains of a barn foundation. There was someone there before you."

That led to a discussion of the way he proscribes a world for his stories, and whether that makes it easier or more difficult to then tell the tale. He said he loves to create worlds in his work, and mentioned the subculture he created in The Funnies. His second novel was about the son of a famous cartoonist who inherits his father's strip after his death. Lennon said he did some research, but the subculture he writes about was largely invented. "I kind of like that. You narrow the possibilities. It's like writing a sonnet. The fact that you’ve hemmed yourself in a little, you’re free in that space."

Lastly, I asked a question I've never seen asked of Lennon. His name, as it is probably not too difficult to guess is John, meaning he grew up with the name of one of pop culture's most revered artists. I asked if it was difficult to be an artist (and, as we talk about below, a musician) with such an iconic name.

"Not anymore really. The worst thing was that I really liked him and liked the Beatles. I used to have little round glasses. I told myself it had nothing to do with John Lennon, I just liked the glasses." he said. "For the most part I just caught a lot of crap from other kids when I was growing up. I don't think it's made any difference at all."

I asked if his parents every talked about giving him such a charged name. He was born in 1970, at the height of Lennon's fame. He was named, he said, for his grandfather, also named John Lennon. Another grandfather was Robert, which means his pen name allows him to honor that grandfather in the same way the name everyone calls him, John, does.

"Later they told me they thought it might be kind of fun for me, which was a sad miscalculation," he said. "But I’m proud to be named after my grandfather."

On to the Q&A...

TIRBD: We talked a bit about self-publishing before. You have self-released a handful of CDs of your music. Has that experience made you more or less likely to do the same with your writing at some point?

JRL: Perhaps someday, but I prefer working with a publisher. Promotion and distribution are hard, and I would rather spend my time writing. I did put a bunch of obscure writing up on my website recently -- quite a lot of articles and stories, few of which are likely to ever find their way into book form. Maybe I should gin up an e-book. But the last thing I need right now is another geeky project.

You said that you were not very politically active before the Bush administration, but that you’ve since addressed it, however obliquely at times, in your writing. How else has that activism manifested itself?

The usual ways - -donating money, complaining on the Internet, getting into tense conversations with relatives. I've had to find a way to channel my anger and dismay into useful activities, and writing has been the main thing. I'm a little more comfortable now that Obama's at the helm, though, so perhaps I can relax a bit.

You wrote the pieces in Pieces for the Left Hand during your child’s short naps, a lemonade-from-lemons endeavor if ever there was one. Now that your kids are older and presumably have indentured you, how has that affected your writing schedule? Does having kids affect the way you look at the world through your writing?

Oh, sure, the world is very different once you've had kids, or gone through any major life change, for that matter. My kids don't disrupt my writing schedule at all anymore -- they go to school, and are pretty self-sufficient, and have their own interests to work on. Luckily we share some interests, otherwise we'd never see each other! Our family is rather preoccupied most of the time.

How has it been working with a smaller publisher like Graywolf Press as opposed to a larger publisher like W.W. Norton?

Great! They publish fewer books and so have the luxury of caring more about each. Graywolf has been extremely attentive to me, my editor is a superb reader, and the books have gotten more attention than anything I've written in years -- I like this situation a lot.

You clearly get into music recording on a micro level, from creating your own instruments to writing about recording techniques in Tape Op magazine. Is there a parallel between that and the micro level of looking at writing afforded by the teaching you do at Cornell?

Absolutely -- I am a major nerd in all respects, both in my hobbies and of course my writing and teaching. I love getting a new stack of manuscripts and digging in, discovering what kind of conversations I'm going to get to have the next day. I can be a little too proscriptive with my advice, though, as a result -- I have to learn to hint! There aren't many bad student stories that can't be turned into something good; it's like trying to solve a puzzle with the class.

Do you write short fiction at the same time you’re immersed in a novel, or do you need to complete one thing before starting another?

Usually I keep them separate, but sometimes I get a story idea when I'm in novel mode and I have to put everything aside and go for it. This just happened recently. It's a good feeling, actually finishing something when you're in the middle of a two-year project... I should probably do it more often.

Labels: books, Monday Interview, music

Two giants of New Zealand pop will issue new albums this year. First up, the Bats, who follow 2005's wonderful At the National Grid with The Guilty Office. The disc, which was actually issued outside the U.S. in early 2008, is the band's seventh album. It's due June 23 on Hidden Agenda Records.

Next up is The Clean. Mister Pop will be released by Merge Records on September 8. It's the band's first since 2001's Getaway.

Fans of the two bands know there is a deeper connection than homeland. Robert Scott, who fronts the Bats, also plays bass in The Clean. Scott formed the Bats in 1982 when it appeared that The Clean had split. Instead, The Clean became an on-again, off-again concern, which allowed Scott to do double duty (much as his Clean bandmates did with side projects like the Great Unwashed, David Kilgour's solo career and Hamish Kilgour's Mad Scene, among others). Fans of great jangly pop win, because it just means more music to sate our appetites.

The Bats are the gentler of the two acts, though that's a relative thing. Robert Scott comes across like a friendly neighbor performing quiet songs just across the fence. He'd probably turn it down if you thought things were getting too loud. The Clean, in contrast, works more with dynamics, though Hamish Kilgour's insistent beat and David Kilgour's seemingly constant fast guitar strum usually drive the songs in an efficient if at times unhinged direction.

Each has a new MP3 available in advance of the release, and each shows the respective bands in top form. It's good to have them back. Here's hoping they don't wait so long next time to return.

MP3: The Bats - "Castle Lights"
MP3: The Clean - "In the Dreamlife You Need a Rubber Soul"

Labels: music

iLike is streaming Sonic Youth's 15th proper album, The Eternal, and I thought I'd share my thoughts on first listen. It's the band's first for Matador as it returns to the indie world after nearly two improbable decades with a major label. The disc is due June 9.

1. Sacred Trickster - This is Sonic Youth, no question. A nice blast of rocking guitars that, while interestingly tuned, are fairly accessible. Oh, there's Kim. I'd much rather hear Thurston Moore or Lee Ranaldo on vocals, but it seems as if the band feels Kim Gordon is its strength, and has leaned on her more on its past few discs. Still, she drops an interesting commentary into the lyric: "What's it like to be a girl in a band/I don't quite understand. That's so quaint to hear/I feel so faint, my dear."

2. Anti-Orgasm - Could this be the band's best album since Dirty? That's premature, I know, but this one-two punch is impressive. (Never mind, looking back at the hyperbole in the last sentence, that I probably declared Murray Street and Rather Ripped as the best thing since Dirty at one point). Here, Thurston and Kim sing together as the guitars swirl, swoop and dive. Two-and-a-half minutes in, it feels fairly complete, and I wonder where they'll take it. As one might expect, this just keeps building, with the occasional break back to the core riff to ground the listener. Wait, now, at 3:30, the song's form has completely broken down and they restate things with some subtle, quiet guitars and light drums. Very nice.

3. Leaky Lifeboat (for Gregory Corso) - Thurston and Kim again. This is a pretty boiler-plate late SY track that has tempered my enthusiasm just a bit. It's not bad, but it shows that it's probably not possible for (or fair to expect) the manic energy that drove the first two tracks to sustain.

4. Antenna - This is a live clip from "Later with Jools Holland" on YouTube for some reason, so who knows how closely it hews to the studio version (it does seem to be about a minute shorter). It's a nice, mellow Thurston tune with Kim on third guitar (remembering, of course, that Pavement's Mark Ibold is now on bass). It feels at various points like it wants to take off, but the band keeps a tight hold on things, opting for coiled tension over release. It works, but it leaves me hoping the next track will fly apart a bit.

5. What We Know - Ah, the Lee Ranaldo track. Some furious guitars and Lee's trademark overdriven vocals. It's no "Mote," but it's still a solid track. "I'd drink a case of you," he sings in one of the most visceral lines about lust I've ever heard. As with "Sacred Trickster" and "Anti-Orgasm," riffs reign supreme here, then give way to some interplay between Moore and Ranaldo on guitar. Steve Shelley drums without using the cymbals for quite a stretch here, giving things a tribal feel while the guitarists solo.

6. Calming the Snake - Starts with a snaking bass line, fittingly enough, before giving way to a burst of guitar noise that is itself reined in a bit as Kim starts singing. Her strangulated vocal would calm no beast, snake or otherwise. There's not a lot here that escapes from the piercing tone of her vocal, so if you like Kim, you'll like this. At least it's short.

7. Poison Arrow - Oh, would that it were an ABC cover. Oh well, too much to hope for. Instead we get a minute of standard SY jamming before Thurston comes in with a mannered vocal that reminds me in spirit (though not timbre) or Bob Dylan on Nashville Skyline. "Who shot the poison arrow," Thurston and Kim sing in one of the few vocal hooks on offer thus far. Another good, but not great track.

8. Malibu Gas Station - Luna has a song called "Malibu Love Nest," and as fitting as that title is for that suave combo, "Malibu Gas Station" feels like a Sonic Youth song before you even hear a note. When it kicks in, you'd be forgiven for hearing a Luna vibe, as Moore and Ranaldo weave very restrained, echo-laden guitar lines. Even when the rest of the band joins in, it's pretty restrained for Sonic Youth. Another Kim vocal, but this is breathy Kim, which is much more palatable.

9. Thunderclap for Bobby Pyn - A classic Sonic Youth riff with Thurston on vocals and Kim on supporting "yeah, yeahs." It's a short blast and a nice change of pace after "Malibu Gas Station." Oh, and Bobby Pyn? That's a name that Germs founder Darby Crash went by. Crash killed himself at age 22 in 1980.

10. No Way - Another Thurston rocker that keeps up the pace set by "Thunderclap." There's no transcendent moment here, but things settle into a nice groove and stay there for the song's entirety, which isn't always the case for SY. This would have been a decent album opener, but perhaps is even more effective as a late-album blast, coming as it does before two long songs that close the disc.

11. Walkin Blue - A second Lee song! This starts in pretty laid-back fashion with an almost poppy vibe to it. A nice, untreated Lee vocal. Unlike "Antenna," which was about unreleased tension, this is tension-free, the mellowest song on the album. "Everything we see is clear," he sings. Perhaps the relatively straightforward music is meant to complement that sentiment. The solo does head out a bit, but then things are brought back in for a longish outro.

12. Massage the History - The capstone. If you weren't sure, check out that 9:43 runtime on a disc where most of the songs are 4 minutes or less. Can you say "slow build"? This starts with acoustic guitars and some atmospheric electric washes while Steve Shelley pounds his floor tom. I want Thurston and fear I'm going to get Kim. Ah, there she is. Again, at least it's breathy Kim rather than shrieking Kim. It took nearly two minutes to get to the vocal, though it didn't ever drag. The music doesn't change behind her, however, as the band maintains the stripped-down vibe. This segues nicely out of "Walkin Blue," though I expect things to explode soon. By the 4-minute mark, you can feel the slow build fully under way. By the 6-minute mark, Shelley's cymbals are the only sound, and the band brings the acoustic guitars back to restate the theme. From there, things get even more stripped down, with Kim singing over nothing more than a faint bass line as the song moves into its final minute. Talk about subverting expectations. This ends with a whimper, not a bang.

So, the sentiments expressed as I listened to track two were premature at best; this is a solid, at times quite good Sonic Youth album, but I think Murray Street is still better. That said, it's a very different album, marrying the guitar textures of that album with the shorter, more arranged song structure of Rather Ripped. It's definitely as good a record as any 30-year-old band could hope to make, and one that honors the band's legacy while not allowing itself to be mired in nostalgia.

Labels: first listen, music

A long car trip today afforded the chance to conduct a listening experiment that pitted Green Day's breakout disc, 1994's Dookie, against the new 21st Century Breakdown. The quick takeaway: 21CB is a good, remarkably solid sounding disc from a slick band, the kind of group that the Dookie-era trio likely would have crossed the street to spit on.

In 1994, I probably listened to Dookie every day for several months. It was everything I wanted at the time: soaring pop hooks driven by loud guitars, inventive bass and manic drums. Then there were Billie Joe Armstrong's lyrics. When you're young, living in a crap town with few friends, having troubles with your girl and generally wanting to be anywhere but here, there are few discs better suited than Dookie.

Fifteen years later (!), the disc is still a powerful listen. The hits are as instantly catchy as ever, and even the deeper album cuts have much to recommend them. It tails off toward the end, but the first 10 or 11 tracks are as strong as anything in the band's catalog. I vowed to put the album back into occasional rotation.

Then came 21CB. I'd listened to the disc once, distractedly, and could acknowledge that it had some good songs. Here, held captive behind the wheel, I was able to absorb the entire album in one sitting. It's good -- very good. But I couldn't help but be left a bit cold. This is such an over-produced album that it's hard to feel it's the product of the same band that made Dookie. Gone is the individuality and the blend of those elements that made that earlier album such a bracing listen. Save for Armstrong's vocals, this could be anybody. Of course, in a way, it is. It's not as if the three musicians stood across from each other in the studio banging out these 18 tracks. God knows how many layers of guitars, vocals and keyboard are at play here, but the result is a high-gloss sheen that makes Green Day sound like the very thing its members once rebelled against. 21CB is closer to something like Def Leppard's Hysteria or something from ELO than anything would expect from the snot-nosed upstarts that turned rock radio on its head by finding a way to make the music of acts like the Ramones palatable to the masses.

That's not to say that the songcraft is lacking. If anything, the songs are stronger than anything the band has yet recorded. But even when they take things down a notch, the wall of slick production saps all of the dynamics from the tracks, and the shiny presentation makes it hard to find the idiosyncrasies necessary to truly hook the ear.

Lyrically, though I know Armstrong has moved on from tales of teen angst, I was still disappointed to find that the disc lacked any of the mischievous humor that has been a band trademark. Even the over-serious American Idiot had a few smile-inducing moments. There were none to be had here.

The disc is also overlong. When "21 Guns" hit, I assumed it was the bonus track I'd received when I downloaded the disc from Amazon. It felt somewhat removed from the rest of the disc, but little did I know the band was far from done. Next came "American Eulogy," which really felt like an album closer, only to be followed by "See the Light," one of the strongest -- and most organic sounding -- tracks on the album. Finally, I was done. I can imagine picking up Dookie to hear "Welcome to Paradise" or "Basketcase" again, but I couldn't begin to even pick out a favorite song from 21CB that would lead me to put this on a year from now. I'll give it a few listens in the meantime, but it feels like something that will be filed away, not something that will stay close to the player.

Oh, and that bonus track from Amazon? That would be a live version of "Burnout," the first track on Dookie. It's a recent recording (I'm not sure the vintage), and thus slicker than the original. Still, it showed how powerful these three musicians can be even when shorn of studio trickery. If the band even had anything to do with the choice, it probably saw it as a nice nod to long-time fans. The unintended consequence, however, is a not-so-subtle reminder of just how visceral and alive this band once was, and how studio-bound and corporate it has become.

Labels: music

The great thing about writing a blog is that people will contact you and ask if they can send you their book or CD, with the hope you'll review it. Sometimes that leads to an awkward, "Um, it's not quite my thing" sort of exchange when they get in touch to see what I thought. Those instances are more than balanced by the times when I'm blown away by something about which I'd been unaware.

Such was the case when Justin Stivers got in touch to see if I'd be interested in hearing a couple of albums from his one-man band, Pet Ghost Project. I went to his site, downloaded one of the discs, and loved what I heard. He sent me the other one, and I was floored by the quality and the variety. I'd be hard pressed to say it's the same act if I didn't know better.

For the uninitiated -- a group that's sure to shrink once Stivers' music gets out there -- Stivers is a New York by way of Seattle musician who was a one-time member of The Antlers (more on them later). Having recorded on his own over the years, he decided to leave that band and pursue the Pet Ghost Project full time. These two new releases are the result. It was the right decision.

My favorite of the two albums is Idiot Brain/Genius Heart, an EP, really, at 27 minutes and five songs. Stivers has a sheaf of press clippings that compare him to Animal Collective, Pavement, Neutral Milk Hotel, Brian Wilson and Built to Spill, and while at least some of those elements are here, this doesn't feel derivative. The songs skitter and dive, bursts of noise giving way to euphoric blasts of pure pop glory. Stivers is offering a free download of the disc, and I suggest you go get it now.

The other album is no less accomplished, though it is slightly less accessible. The Wordless Conversation is aptly named. There are occasional vocals, but no real lyrics. Tortoise is dropped as a reference point, and there is certainly some math-rock in the album's DNA strand. Again, however, this is noisier and less predictable than most of what is associated with that tag, and that's a good thing. Stivers is offering three of the seven songs on the 36 minute album as a free download, which offers a great chance to check out his range. (Grab "They Built a City in My Country Mind" to get an immediate taste).

Live, if you're lucky enough to live in New York, you can catch Stivers supported by two other musicians. On record, it's just him, an impressive feat.

Meanwhile, The Antlers, another band built on the work of a wildly creative individual -- in this case Peter Silberman -- will see its self-titled album, Hospice, reissued by French Kiss Records on June 23. It's no stretch to see why Stivers and Silberman hooked up; they have somewhat similar musical sensibilities if their latest releases are any indication. Stivers seems more enamored of noise and chaos as vehicles for eventual blissful beauty than Silberman, who, at least on Hospice, strips away extraneous sound to get to the emotional core of his music.

Hospice, an album of songs about caring for a terminally ill patient who may lash out at the caretaker, is a bracing, intimate work. It's an easy album to hear on multiple levels, the music offer a soothing balm that leavens the lyrical content whose power is revealed on repeat listens. (Try "Two"now.)

That's a lot of great music to stumble across in the past few days, and a couple of artists to definitely keep an ear out for in the future.

Labels: music

Big Star has long been like a secret handshake among hardcore music fans. As Paul Westerberg sang, "Never travel far, without a little Big Star." If you don't, your tastes are always a little suspect. The band's Anglophilic mix of Byrdsian chime and R'n'B swagger is oft-imitated but never equaled.

That makes the relative glut of Big Star news and product of late a godsend. First came Bruce Eaton's book about Radio City, the band's second album, as part of the 33 1/3 series. Actually, first came Eaton's great blog, Big Star's Radio City, which not only documents some of the behind-the-scenes aspects of the book, but also serves as a sort of Big Star news feed. Next has been the requisite press related to the book that has led to another round of re-evaluation and the unearthing of nuggets. Those include this great piece by writer Bud Scoppa about the band. It was written for Revolver magazine just before it shifted to a metal focus, and has been shelved in the years since.

Next comes the biggest news at all: A Big Star boxed set. Blurt reports that a four-disc set is due from Rhino on Sept. 15. The set is reported to cover 1968-1975, which means material from the band members' pre-Big Star days (such as Chris Bell's Rock City) and beyond. Live material, outtakes and more are expected.

Add to this that Concord plans a July reissue of the long out-of-print two-fer that introduced most of us to the band in the late 80s and early 90s that joined the band's debut, #1 Record with that follow up, Radio City. I was lucky enough to get a later edition that had both albums intact; early issues omitted two tracks. This one has two more, which I'd guess are alternate tracks ("In the Street" from #1 Record and "Oh My Soul" from Radio City are each listed twice).

Labels: music, reissues

Funny how the web-based news cycle works. I'd heard months ago that Danger Mouse and Sparklehorse planned to collaborate on an album. Then, just a few days ago, word of that project was everywhere. Credit a controversy of the sort that sets blogs, Twitter feeds and message boards afire: A major record label was somehow blocking release of a shadowy project featuring the work of some enigmatic, critically adored artists. Whether it's a brilliant marketing ploy or a true case of corporate stupidity, it put the resulting album on the radar of anyone with even a faint interest in non-mainstream music.

That album, Dark Night of the Soul, is a collaboration between Danger Mouse (the producer behind the Jay-Z/Beatles mashup The Grey Album) and Sparklehorse (Mark Linkous). The two created music and then recruited 10 singers to record vocals. They include the Flaming Lips' Wayne Coyne, Jason Lytle from Grandaddy; Nina Persson from the Cardigans, Suzanne Vega, the Strokes' Julian Casablancas and Iggy Pop. They also somehow hooked up with filmmaker David Lynch, whose photographs make up a 100-page book to be released with the disc. He also provided vocals to two tracks. The result is a cohesive yet varied collection of tracks that sounds pretty much like what you'd expect from all involved. It's also quite good.

Details about the project, along with streams of the music on NPR.org, debuted simultaneously with word that it might not ever see release. According to the project's web site, "Due to an ongoing dispute with EMI, Danger Mouse is unable to release the recorded music for Dark Night of the Soul without fear of being sued by EMI. Danger Mouse remains hugely proud of Dark Night of the Soul and hopes that people lucky enough to hear the music, by whatever means, are as excited by it as he is."

Further compounding confusion, the set is still for sale, but the book now includes a blank CD-R. One assumes that Danger Mouse, whose The Grey Album project was (and is) widely available on the web, wants fans to seek out downloads and torrents of the project to burn on the included disc. Those purchasing the $50 package are warned, "Due to an ongoing dispute with EMI, Danger Mouse is unable to include music on the CD without fear of legal entanglement. Therefore, he has included a blank CD-R as an artifact to use however you see fit."

Lynch fans will surely seek this out; the rest of us can probably save about $49.95, pick up a blank disc at Staples and have this downloaded and burned before lunch today. It's certainly worth that effort. It's a strong album full of lush, glitchy music and hazy vocals that push these singers in somewhat surprising directions. Each track feels like a slightly out-of-focus tune from the artist's day job, yet Danger Mouse has found a way to make them cohere as an album. (Spin has a nice track-by-track look here.)

Labels: books, controversy, music

You can stream Wilco's forthcoming album, Wilco (The Album) right now at the band's web site. The album is due June 30 from Nonesuch. What follows are my first impressions of the 11 tracks. Spoiler alert: I like it quite a bit. Read on to find out why.

1. Wilco (The Song): Debuted on "The Colbert Report," the song seemed like a goofy lark destined for a B-side. Here, leading off the album, it feels like the past several years never happened, as if Wilco (The Album) was following Summerteeth, not Sky Blue Sky. It's a chugging rocker with its tongue stuck firmly in its cheek. "Wilco love you, baby."

2. Deeper Down: The album shifts gears here, with a sweet, quiet tune with some nice pedal steel from Nels Cline and some burbling background noise from Mikael Jorgensen. During the instrumental passages, this sounds like the kind of ornate, precious tune Wes Anderson would use to soundtrack one of his films.

3. One Wing: A competent track that doesn't do a lot for me. It'd be a standout on a latter-day Ryan Adams disc, but there's little in the way of an immediate hook. Tweedy's vocal and lyric are average, and the song is fairly pedestrian instrumentally, at least by Wilco standards.

4. Bull Black Nova: This is more like it. Pounding keyboards that give way to some interesting guitar lines while Tweedy sings with some nervous urgency. This is the first song on the album that feels as if the band is taking full advantage of its strengths and quirks at the same time, and the first that lets Cline air things out a bit. Most interestingly, it seems that Tweedy is talking about the car, not the celestial phenomenon.

5. You and I: A quiet, acoustic song built on a sweet melody from Tweedy in duet with Feist. It's a straightforward love song, the kind of thing Tweedy would typical twist with a thrown punch, a missed communication or some other romantic foible. Instead, he plays it straight here, and the results are gorgeous.

6. You Never Know: A soaring pop tune with piano tinkling, a full-time strummed acoustic guitar and solid hooks. "Every generation thinks it's the last, thinks it's the end of the world." The vocal harmonies here are pristine, giving this a classic pop feel. A real standout.

7. Country Disappeared: Another tempo downshift, with a tune that would be at home on either of Wilco's last two albums. So much so, in fact, that it feels in a way like a pastiche of past moves. That's not a bad thing, but it seems like a placeholder of sorts. Then again, with a placeholder of this quality, the band can be forgiven for taking a bit of a break on this track.

8. Solitaire: Starts with some nice finger-picked guitar augmented by spacey keyboards... and double-tracked vocals! That's a strange element from Tweedy. Real stripped down, pretty. Fitting, given the title. Some nice images lyrically, too: "I was cold as gasoline." Cline's pedal steel returns here to give the song a spooky yet warm vibe. The arrangement and production on this is fantastic.

9. I'll Fight: Maintains the quiet, acoustic feel of "Solitaire" at the outset, but launches rather quickly into a full-band arrangement. "I"ll go for you... I'll fight... I'll die for you, I will," Tweedy sings. Another laid-back song musically speaking. Shares much of its melody with Sky Blue Sky closer "On and On and On." Wouldn't put it past Tweedy to consider this a sequel of sorts. There, Tweedy pledged that he and his love would "stay together yet." Here, he goes a step further.

10. Sonny Feeling: When I first saw a tracklist for the album, I read this as "Sonny Liston," likely coaxed by the preceding "I'll Fight" and "lasting" part of the following "Everlasting Everything" to make the mistake. I was wrong, of course, and the song certainly suggests nothing of the sort. It's a, well, sunny track that reprises a bit of the stomp of the opener. Cline gets another chance to show off here to nice effect. This is the only real upbeat song on the latter half of the album.

11. Everlasting Everything: This feels like an album closer. It's a slow-building big statement with a big chorus. "Everything alive must die, every building built to the sky will fall." Swelling strings nicely undergird Tweedy's sentiment. Rather than continue to build to a crashing crescendo, the band pulls back, letting Cline noodle around a bit while the other instruments fade out. It's a great way to end a solid album.

Overall, the disc stands well with the rest of the band's catalog. While it is the sound of a band standing in place a bit, the strength of its songs more than makes up for that. This is what Wilco sounds like -- remarkably, Tweedy has had the same band for two albums straight! -- and that's a good thing.

Labels: first listen, music

33 1/3 series editor David Barker has announced the 11 books that will be the next batch published in the series, each covering one album. Thus brings to a close a six-month process during which Barker narrowed the initial list of 597 to 170 (of which, my proposal for a book about the Police's Synchronicity, was one), then to 27 and now to 11.

The books will be published in 2010 or 2011. And they are:

Portishead's Dummy, by RJ Wheaton
Johnny Cash's American Recordings, by Tony Tost
Television's Marquee Moon, by Bryan Waterman
Liz Phair's Exile in Guyville, by Gina Arnold
AC/DC's Highway to Hell, by Joe Bonomo
Ween's Chocolate and Cheese, by Hank Shteamer
Radiohead's Kid A, by Marvin Lin
Dinosaur Jr.'s You're Living All Over Me, by Nick Attfield
Aretha Franklin's Amazing Grace, by Aaron Cohen
Slint's Spiderland, by Scott Tennent
The Rolling Stones' Some Girls, by Cyrus Patell

That's a solid list of books. It's hard to argue with the marketability of the Rolling Stones, AC/DC or Radiohead, though I do wonder how many copies of You're Living All Over Me they'll move. I know of at least one, however, as I'll be curious to see if Nick Attfield can get more than the grunts and long pauses out of J Mascis that he has frustrated me with in interviews.

For those paying close attention, Barker reports that the Portishead proposal was not on the last shortlist: "I changed my mind on that one, late in the day."

Congrats to Barker and all of the selected authors. A lot of great writing about music is on the way.

Labels: 33 1/3, books, music

I feel like I've been in a cave: Dave Eggers and Vendela Vida wrote a screenplay for a film that was directed by Sam Mendes? That's kind of a big deal.

The film, "Away We Go," is due out June 5. It stars John Krasinski and Maya Rudolph as a longtime couple who are going to have a baby, but whose world is turned on its ear when Krasinski's parents (Jeff Daniels and Catherine O'Hara) reveal that they're moving out of the country, thus taking away the couple's reason for living where they do. This sets the pair off on what looks to be a standard road movie.

Given the film's provenance, it will surely be a big deal. The marketing, complete with cut-and-paste photos and hand-lettered titles, feels like an indie-film greatest hits, conjuring everything from "Rushmore" to "Juno." Who stands to benefit most from all of this? Alexi Murdoch, please stand up.

The Scottish singer's songs make up the bulk of the soundtrack, his pleasant folk-rock clearly a nice way to undergird the story's more heartfelt moments. Most of the songs are drawn from Murdoch's debut, Time Without Consequence, with three previously unreleased tracks sweetening the mix. They are joined by tracks from George Harrison ("What Is Life"), The Stranglers ("Golden Brown"), Bob Dylan ("Meet Me In The Morning") and the Velvet Underground ("Oh! Sweet Nuthin’").

Murdoch's music was heard in the film "Garden State" -- though not on the soundtrack -- one of the best examples of music use in film propelling an act commercially. In that case it was the Shins, another pleasant pop act. Could Murdoch see similar benefits? It's likely. His music seems tailor made for this use, the film will expose hundreds of thousands of people to it and the soundtrack gives them an easy way to sample his wares.

MP3: "All My Days"

Labels: movies, music

Just my luck to get into something just as it comes to a close. Those who have been paying attention fear that Bob Dylan's Theme Time Radio Hour program on Sirius satellite radio will end its run now that the third season is complete. Given the title of the final program -- "Goodbye" -- I'd say that's a safe assumption.

If he does bow out, he leaves behind an impressive 100 hours of radio programming unlike anything on the airwaves now or at any point in my lifetime. "Take a trip to the land of radio magic," reads the introductory text on the show's web site. "With music hand-selected from his personal collection, Bob Dylan takes you to places only he can. Listen as he weaves his own brand of radio with dreams, schemes and themes." That's as accurate a description as any.

I've long heard of but not actually heard Dylan's program. I don't have satellite radio and wasn't intrigued enough to seek out the torrents that pop up immediately after each program. But the deluxe version of Together Through Life includes a CD with one show ("Friends and Neighbors" from the first season in 2006), and I was immediately hooked. Yes, the music is great, but what captivated me was Dylan himself, sharing stories and opinions, all in a strangely arresting tone that teeters on the edge of self-parody.

The shows are available all over the place online; CROZ.fm seems to have the best archive (Croz, that's been me sucking your bandwidth the past few days). So it's easy to catch up with what is truly an invaluable archive of music history. Dylan not only unearths some gems, but offers contextualizing stories, quotes and anecdotes that bring the songs to life.

The last episode of season three, his 100th, aired in mid-April, and some speculate that either Sirius or Dylan plans to bring things to a close. If so, it's a shame, but at least we neophytes have 100 hours of great radio to wade through until something else comes along.

Labels: Bob Dylan, music, radio

Things must be quiet in the world of music today: the music blogs are spilling a lot pixels over the fact that Blur and Oasis are not included on a forthcoming Britpop compilation. No one notes that neither group is likely happy with the thought of having its career condensed into a song on a compilation stacked with pretenders and one-hit wonders, but rather that the omission will spark much debate.

What the reports did for me was point out how little I ever cared for Britpop, and how worthless labels like "Britpop" really are. Of the 54 tracks spread over the three discs of Common People (the title is shared with that of an album by Pulp), I own six. None would I call Britpop. Then again, that all depends on the definition, and that is always a slippery thing. Wikipedia simply says Britpop bands had a reverence for the past, but neglects to mention that this reverence was expressed with watered-down, largely tuneless tributes issued under silly band names. (Denim, Powder, Spearmint, Gay Dad, et al).

The six I own are as varied as nearly any six acts in my collection: Elastica, Gomez, Supergrass, the Stone Roses, Super Furry Animals and Cast. Elastica offered female-led angular pop, Gomez is experimental Americana, Supergrass' music is cheeky, punky fun, Super Furry Animals is an eclectic hodge-podge of pop and Cast is retro pop rock with strong hooks. Of these, only Stone Roses strikes me as having a Britpop sound.

What this really says is that no matter how big your movement may be, eventually it's going to come grinding to a halt, and those who success will have long ago shaken off the shackles associated with it. It reminds me of alt-country, a movement abandoned by all but the most diehard fans, and largely ignored by its leading lights such as Wilco and the Jayhawks as they struck out for less-limiting sounds.

Labels: music

With today's post about the Boston Spaceships' track "Brown Submarine,"I've officially hit 250 songs on my Robert Pollard catablog, My Impression Now. Hitting that milestone, I hereby declare myself the king of catabloggers when judged by sheer volume of posts.

Others have completed their tasks, of course, something I may never do given that Robert Pollard releases new songs at a rate fairly close that at which I review that music.

The last time I noted my progress here , I had notched my 100th song ("Glad Girls") in December 2007. At that time I took a survey of the other catablogs known to me. Those behind a few had given up, several others had been dormant for a long time, and a solid number were still going strong.

Fast forward to today, and things have changed (see list below). Six have definitely stopped, 10 have not posted in several months and only a handful of us are still going. Three have completed their task: the Pearl Jam blog More Than Ten, Solar Prestige a Gammon, which covered Elton John's music from 1969 to 1977, and Matthew Perpetua's R.E.M. blog, Popsongs '07-08, which launched this whole movement in May 2007. Perpetua promises to write at some point about Accelerate, the album the band issued late last year after he had finished his project.

I'm surprised all of this didn't catch on more than it did. It seemed like a great idea, both from the perspective of a writer and a reader. What better way to fully immerse yourself in a favorite band's work than to force yourself to write about every note? And what better way to learn about a band than to read such passionate, micro-level criticism?

Thing is, it's a lot of work. I've cranked out just shy of 65,000 words on Pollard's music, and I'm not even a 1/4 of the way through his catalog. The guy behind the Pearl Jam blog (assisted by a few others toward the tail end) wrote 188 posts, while Perpetua wrote 204 (with another seven dedicated to a great Q&A session with Michael Stipe).

I plan to soldier on, if for no other reason than the close listening required of this has made me appreciate Pollard's music all the more. I've been reading Lawrence Block's great memoir Step by Step, which largely chronicles his obsession with racewalking over long distances, and I see parallels to my own Sisyphean quest. Sure, part of the motivation is in doing something that few others can (or, I'll admit, want to), but the rewards along the way are what make this truly worthwhile.

R.I.P.
Robynsongs - Robyn Hitchcok
Chrome Canyons - Wilco
Spring, Sprang, Sprung - T-Pain
Emotional Karaoke - Mountain Goats
More Words About Buildings and Songs - Talking Heads
Ten Thousand Lies - Nine Inch Nails

M.I.A. (including month of last post)
All My Little Words - Magnetic Fields: June 2007
Blursongs - Blur: August 2008
Fridgebuzz/Radiostutters - Radiohead: October 2007
Hyper-ballads - Bjork: July 2007
Paraguay and Laos - Bluetones: October 2008
Separated Out - Marillion: August 2007
So Misunderstood - Wilco: September 2007
Crimes on Paper - Self: August 2008
One Imaginary Blog - Cure: July 2008


Still Going Strong
Fragments of a Cale Season - John Cale
I Can't Sing It Strong Enough - Pavement
Music from a Bachelor's Den - Pulp
My Impression Now - Guided by Voices
Too Many Words - Low

Done
Popsongs 07 - R.E.M.
More Than Ten - Pearl Jam
Solar Prestige a Gammon - Elton John (69-77)

Labels: music, My Impession Now, Robert Pollard

This is why the Internet is so valuable. I'm not sure where I saw the link, but something this week led me to the web site of New York public television station WNET, or THIRTEEN and the program "Soul!"

"Soul!" aired from 1968 to 1973, and was produced at WNET studios: "It was the first program on WNET to be recorded with the then-new technology of videotape, and most of the shows were recorded in real-time—not live, but unedited."

According to the original 1968 announcement posted on the site, the show was "devoted entirely to and aimed at the metropolitan area’s black community. The format of Soul! resembles some of the popular late night programs – segmented, lively, informative and entertaining. Appearing on the show will be top stars and up-and-coming young talents from the black community. There will also be pertinent features dealing with all aspects of the social, cultural and artistic life of the black population."

The best part? Nine of the episodes are available for streaming on the site, and they're a goldmine for fans of jazz, funk and blues from that era. I was drawn to an episode from 1972 that dedicates most of an hour to performance by Rahsaan Roland Kirk and his band, the Vibration Society. And these aren't just any performances. Kirk, a blind multi-instrumentalist who often played as many as three horns at the same time, offers long versions of his own "BlackNuss" and "The Inflated Tear," and spend 16 incredible minutes on "The Old Rugged Cross," playing it straight (or as straight as Kirk could play) before tearing back into it double time in a frenetic performance that inspires Kirk to grab a folding chair and methodically tear it apart while the studio audience applauds wildly.

Other episodes feature performances by Taj Mahal, Earth, Wind and Fire, Black Heat featuring David "Fathead" Newman, Max Roach and more. A full list of episodes reveals even more great artists, though the note at the top that "this list does not reflect the existence of physical tapes of all these episodes. It is for reference only" tempers expectations a bit. Still, if only this fraction of episodes is unearthed, it's still a treasure trove for music fans.

Labels: music, TV

So, Saturday was Record Store Day. Did you make it out? I did, hitting Iowa City's two record stores, each of which was participating. I was late, so I missed out on the Guided by Voices disc (hello, eBay), but did pick up singles from Bruce Springsteen and Bob Dylan (which were available in quantities that lead me to believe there is little "limited" about them), and the Sonic Youth/Beck split from Matador (the sale of which on eBay, if current prices are to be believed, would fund purchase of the GBV record).

The stated goal of Record Store Day is: "On this day, all of these stores will simultaneously link and act as one with the purpose of celebrating the culture and unique place that they occupy both in their local communities and nationally." So, did it work? According to anecdotal evidence reported by Billboard.com, it did. Several stores reported higher sales and much greater traffic than normal. It didn't hurt that independent and major labels created 82 special releases available that day only, drawing collectors to stores in droves. Did it draw anyone else? Hard to say. Because most of the special releases were by smaller bands and on vinyl, an appeal to the masses this ain't. What it did, I suppose, is show people like me who have largely given up on independent record stores because of sketchy selection, high prices or lack of convenience, that record stores are still happening places.

The most compelling argument for the value of record stores came from Steve Albini. the Chicago Reader blog Post No Bills shared an ad placed by Chicago's Reckless Records that includes an essay from Albini that, in its tortured analogy to a farmer's market, actually makes a case for the value of record stores. To explain it would mean practically retyping it here. Just go read it here.

Labels: commerce, music, Record Store Day

Dale Watson is so country that he can't even use the word "country" to describe what he does any more. Ask the right person what "country" music is, and they'll tell you it's George Jones, Merle Haggard and Johnny Cash. But too many people would respond with Faith Hill or Carrie Underwood or whoever else looks cute in cutoffs, and that is about as far away from the music of Dale Watson as you can get. So he calls what he does "Ameri-politan."

Watson arrived fully formed with his 1995 debut Cheatin' Heart Attack, and hasn't stopped putting out records since. I first saw the Texan probably 10 years ago when he had just three or four albums under his belt. One of those was The Truckin' Sessions, a loving tribute to the truckin' music made popular by the likes of Dave Dudley, C.W. McCall and Haggard himself in the '60s and '70s. These were Watson originals that captured the spirit of the road, and like the rest of his music, they recreated a moment in time but never felt dated. This was alive, vibrant music, a throughline to the past that skipped all the dreck in between.

Watson's life since has been like a tear-in-my-beer country song come to life. He found love, then lost it when his fiancee was killed in a car wreck. He nearly drank himself to death as he mourned her, but rebounded to put out another handful of solid discs once he had recovered. In the past few years, he has mined the vaults for some unreleased gems (Whiskey or God), recorded with the band that backed Johnny Paycheck and others on so many early hits (The Little Darlin' Sessions), and, with a disc out tomorrow, heads back on the road with The Truckin' Sessions vol. 2.

Gathering some of his trucking songs from earlier albums and surrounding them with several new songs about truckers and trucking, he offers another sympathetic -- and insanely catchy -- batch of tunes about life on the road. Watson took time out from -- what else? -- touring behind the album to answer a few questions.

TIRBD: You've come up with more than two album's worth of trucking song that have a lot of detail. How do you come up with the various scenarios and stories? Do you interview truckers, or hear from them in some way?

DW: Most of the scenarios are true based on my experiences or from what I hear on the CB radio as we drive down the road. CB is still a very integral part of the trucking world.

Why do you think trucking songs have such universal appeal? For most of us, it's just another profession, yet there aren't songs about dentists or investment bankers.

Since the 1970’s when truckin’ music was so popularized and even launched movie after movie ( "Convoy," "Smokey and the Bandit," etc.) truckers have been perceived as modern day cowboys. In part due to the nature of the beast; to be a trucker you had to be fit enough to man-handle the truck and it’s load ( this was before power steering and automatic transmissions) and just as stressful, be okay with living on the road most of the time away from loved ones and missing birthdays and holidays. You can still live a “normal” family life as a dentist or banker, but not as a trucker.

Some say you have to go through tough times to create truly lasting art. You are certainly qualified to respond to that. Can you detect a difference in the quality or depth of your material between your earliest songs and now that would be attributable to what you've faced in between?

Absolutely I can see a difference in my own writing when it comes to depth and quality when compared to my earlier songs but , sometimes life circumstances repeat themselves and I’m able to write about the same subject but from different perspectives.

Though you're as country as they come, I've only ever seen you in rock clubs and never hear you on country radio. How would you describe your spot on the pop culture landscape, and do you see that ever changing?

Most folks are confused by that, because it is true we only tour rock rooms for the most part, but I like it that way. Although I grew up in honky tonks and beer joints, apart from the few and far between in Texas, most have gone the way of Top 40 and fern bars. I don’t see our venues changing because oddly enough our music appeals vastly to the younger crowd that loved Johnny Cash and Hank Williams type music. It’s classic and will be with us forever I think, but you won’t hear that in country bars today, but you will in the seedy original music venues that have replaced honky tonks and beer joints as the new venues to hear roots music.

You've had some interesting projects in the past few years, like working with Ray Benson from Asleep at the Wheel and doing the Little Darlin' Sessions. Do you take anything away from those when you then go back and work with the Lone Stars on your regular material?

I’ve learned so much from Ray Benson and of course getting to work with Lloyd Green and his Little Darlin’ musicians was like going to college. Ray Benson is still teaching me things, but the biggest lesson I’ve learned from Ray is to surround yourself with people that can hold their own talent-wise. He has a big heart as well which is a personal lesson I took away. As for the Little Darlin experience, there is too long of a list of all the lessons those great musicians taught me. One big lesson during the Little Darlin experience was a business lesson, even though I thought I knew it, never trust Nashville, even when they feed you your favorite meal, there is likely a chopping block around the corner.

People probably assume that you listen to nothing but Merle Haggard, Johnny Paycheck and Johnny Cash. Are they correct? If not, do you listen to much contemporary music? Anything that would surprise people?

I don’t think it would surprise folks, because I feel that if you are influenced by what you are listening to you will hear it in the music. Yes, I do listen to a lot of Merle, Cash, Hank Williams, Paycheck, Ray Price and Bob Wills, but I also listen to Dean Martin, Sinatra and Elvis. The surprise would likely be Chet Baker and Art Farmer, but that is because I am into the trumpet these days and I just love Chet’s voice as well. As far as new music, I am lucky enough to play with bands that I never heard of but knock me out, like Amy Lavere and Hillbilly Casino, I listen to their stuff too. iTtunes has become an addiction for me and my iPod is well on the way to being full. It’s fun to put it on shuffle of songs and hear such diverse music.

Looking at your tour itinerary, you obviously have quite a fan base in Europe. How are those audiences different than those in the U.S.? How does your music translate?

I am very very blessed with my luck in Europe. It was Europe that brought me enough success that it translated to the US. It’s strange how they know more about our musical roots of the US than the general American public. It’s just as diverse a crowd but the venues vary more. One venue may be a 30,000 festival then the next night we play 50 capacity dive, but the enthusiasm is always high. I love Europe but I really dislike airlines. I used to love flying but nowadays airlines make it the worst way to travel.

MP3: Drag 'n Fly
MP3: Truckin' Man

Labels: Monday Interview, music

In the fourth and fifth installments of Bill Flanagan's interview with Bob Dylan to promote the imminent release of Together Through Life, the singer talks about his favorite songwriters, peers like the Rolling Stones, and most interestingly, a key reason why he doesn't try to recreate his recordings in live performance.

The interview, whose first three parts ran on Dylan's web site, has been revelatory. It's a savvy marketing move for the singer, but more than that, like his memoir, Chronicles, it allows him to tell only the parts of his story that he wants to tell, in the way he wants to tell it.

In the fourth installment, he discusses his favorite songwriters: First off the tongue? Jimmy Buffet. After that head scratcher, he lists some more expected artists: "Lightfoot. Warren Zevon. Randy (Newman). John Prine. Guy Clark. Those kinds of writers."

In the fifth installment, he talks about the Rolling Stones. In a widely quoted exchange, he seems to dismiss them:

BF: What do you think of the Stones?

BD: What do I think of them? They're pretty much finished, aren't they?

What has gone unremarked, because it messes with the "one has-been to another" storyline pursued by those who noted it, is that Dylan was simply being playful, and has this to say about the band: "The Rolling Stones are truly the greatest rock and roll band in the world and always will be. The last too"

Back to the fourth installment, Flanagan asks why Dylan, like other acts still touring after more than 30 years, doesn't try to replicate his recordings. He couldn't if he tried, he says, adding that his songs are different. The songs of the Who, the Beatles and the Beach Boys was pervasive, "music for the grand dinner party... They made perfect records, so they have to play them perfectly ... exactly the way people remember them." Dylan says his records were never perfect, so there isn't much point trying to duplicate them.

That's an arguable point, though I suppose the quibble is between perfect and pristine. How do you recreate "Highway 61," when history shows the band itself on the same day couldn't do it? Regardless, I for one am glad he feels this way, for while I'd love to have had the chance to hear the Band rip through a faithful version of one of his classics, the endless reinterpretations ultimately make his catalog that much stronger.

Lastly, he makes this simple yet profound statement: "Anyway, I'm no mainstream artist." There's a doctoral thesis in there somewhere (paging Christoper Ricks!), for you can clearly argue this either way. No one who has sold 100 million albums, as Flanagan points out here, can consider themselves to not be in the mainstream, and yet Dylan is exactly right; save for a brief period in the '60s when his singles charted, he has been well outside the mainstream. What a perfect conundrum for the poet laureate of rock who considers himself just a song and dance man.

Labels: Bob Dylan, music

I'm a big fan of Nick Lowe, so I have been pleased to see the nice career overview he has received in the past few weeks tied to the release of his new best of collection, Quiet Please: The New Best of Nick Lowe. The release of the 49-song set has allowed a lot of journalist fans to tout their fave. One hopes the uninitiated pay attention, though it would run counter to the rest of Lowe's career if he suddenly made it big.

The set does a decent job of covering Lowe's career, though any longtime fan can find plenty to quibble about. My main beef is that his label, Yep Roc Records, leaned much too heavily on its own releases (and the rest of his post-Bodyguard comeback... more on that in a moment). Anyone picking up this set is almost assured of owning those albums, so devoting an entire disc to that material seems redundant. Then again, as a fan who already owned his last best of, Basher, as well as several other albums, I already owned every song on here, and bought it for the bonus DVD that includes a recent live show and some vintage videos. I know, I know, I'm not the target audience, but for an artist like Lowe who has had marginal chart success at best, who exactly is the audience?

One interesting note is the title: Quiet Please. It's an accurate indication of the direction Lowe's music has taken in the past decade, a decided response to (and perhaps antidote for) Basher. After Curtis Stigers' version of Lowe's "(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding" on the Bodyguard soundtrack earned Lowe a million bucks, he took the money and used it to reinvent himself musically. The result was The Impossible Bird, a surprisingly mature, dour collection of songs that found Lowe dialing down the humor and manic pop thrills of his earlier work. It was the first of four albums in this vein, all full of great songs. It's possible that fans of this work are unfamiliar with earlier standouts like "Cruel to be Kind," "Cracking Up" and "Little Hitler." For them, I suppose, Quiet Please gathers those and many more from that era.

So, quibbles aside (and they include wishing for some rarities or left field surprises on the set), it's a great opportunity for Lowe to get his music out in front of potential fans.

As mentioned at the outset, the media is doing all it can to help. Here is just a small list of recent profiles:

Vanity Fair
JamBase
MSN Music

Labels: music

Matthew Ryan is back and he's mad. That's a good thing, for us, anyway.

Ryan has a new group, the Dead Satellites, and a new song to debut the group. You can download "Shook Down" here for free. You'll be glad you did.

The Dead Satellites includes Ryan and Wallflowers Greg Richling and Rami Jaffee. According to a post on Ryan's MySpace page, Richling and Jaffee wrote and recorded much of the music, while Ryan contributed lyrics and vocals.

"Shook Down," the first track from the group, is "a song about the economic narcissism of the insiders that lead to our current financial crisis," Ryan says. "The song is essentially calling for a coup, or at the very least, accountability."

"Workers on the news/They take it in the gut/And in the kingdom's view/It doesn't mean that much." he sings. He concludes with this statement after the music ends: average CEO makes 400 times what the average worker makes."

"On a personal note, I've watched my Dad go from a fairly comfortable retirement, to a stressed malaise," Ryan says. " It pisses me off. He worked 35 years, saved every penny, invested what he earned, and is now feeling took."

It's a slow burner of a song that does as much to capture the current economic malaise as anything I've seen or heard since our recent troubles began.

A second song is up at the group's MySpace page, "If I Wanted You, I Could Have You."

"We're doing this for the love of it, there is no label involved," Ryan writes. "So, truth is, we're depended on you sharing it. We want people to hear these songs. We're just gonna add songs to our Dead Satellites MySpace as we complete them."

So, the good news is more Ryan-related music trickling out. The bad news is that it doesn't sound like there will be an album of this music any time soon.

Don't fret, however; Ryan reports that he's also working on his next solo album, the follow-up to last year's fantastic Matthew Ryan Vs. the Silver State (No. 5 on my best of 2008 list). "I'm working hard on writing my next record. I'll be recording it shortly. It's tentatively titled, Exit Music For Last Year's Man. I wanna define some elusive weather with this one. The songs so far among the most beautiful and plain-spoken I've written."

Sounds like a return to the quieter, more introspective sound of From a Late Night High-Rise and Through the Wires. Here's hoping he and the Dead Satellites rock out a bit so we can hear both aspects of Ryan's sound more frequently.

Labels: music

While on the surface there seems to be little new about "The Chris Isaak Hour" on Bio, it is actually a unique entry in the standard interview-format TV show. What's different? Isaak hosts one act each week, mixing a few performance shots with interviews. That means you get the equivalent of a set on the best live music shows like Austin City Limits, as well as about half an hour of in-depth interview conducted by a fellow touring and recording musician. The result is, even when the guest is of marginal interest, one of the most engaging hours of television for music fans.

When I heard the Isaak was slated to host another show, I was excited at the prospect. In addition to being a fine songwriter and singer, Isaak is a true wit, something that makes his late-night talk show appearances, as well as his Showtime dramedy series so entertaining. The format sounded great: long interviews spiced with live performances. Then I saw the guest list: Smashing Pumpkins, Michael Buble and Chicago? No thanks.

But Isaak is a savvy interviewer, teasing out stories that either haven't been told before, or haven't been told with this level of detail. When a typical interviewer asks a musician about life on the road, the response is usually boilerplate. When Isaak asks, he gleans answers that are offered peer to peer, and the result is refreshing. Another plus: Isaak is reverent without being too deferential. He isn't afraid to ask about tough subjects, from Stevie Nicks' drug use to Billy Corgan's relationship with That means that while his interview with personal favorite Glen Campbell was fascinating, his chats with Chicago and Smashing Pumpkins were interesting, too.

The Glen Campbell interview was the best so far, in part because Isaak is clearly a fan and knows enough about Campbell's career both as a countrypolitan superstar and earlier as an in-demand session player (and one-time touring Brian Wilson replacement in the Beach Boys) to ask intelligent questions. The Stevie Nicks interview also was outstanding, with Isaak teasing out details that were unfamiliar to this casual Fleetwood Mac fan.

The run of eight episodes, which began in late February with guest Trisha Yearwood (a nice tie-in to the release of Isaak's first album of new material in seven years, Mr. Lucky, which featured a Yearwood duet), continues tonight with Yusuf Islam (the former Cat Stevens), and ends next week with Jewel.

Here's hoping the show is renewed, because it's the best music-related show on television. It doesn't hurt Isaak's music career either, raising his profile and allowing him the chance to rub shoulders with some rock royalty.

Labels: music, TV

The takeaway from the Hold Steady show at the Picador in Iowa City last night? You can have too much of a good thing. The lesson was learned at the macro and micro levels. More generally, seeing five shows in seven days is simply too much for me. No matter how hard the Hold Steady rocked, it just couldn't get into it after having been out to see so many shows in so short a span (which means any dreams I have of a return visit to SXSW are probably unwise at this point).

More specifically, it meant that perhaps the Hold Steady should explore the world of dynamics. Save for the mid-set beer/bathroom break interlude "Lord, I'm Discouraged," the only non heavy riff song in the main set, everything was anchored by a monster riff, pounding drums, throbbing bass and Craig Finn's manic TV preacher vocals. Yeah, I know -- that's what they do. But by the end of a 90-minute set, it's numbing. That made a song like "Citrus," an acoustic tune that led the band back to start its encore, a breath of fresh air. More moments like this would make the gargantuan hooks of songs like "Chips Ahoy," "Sequestered in Memphis" and "Your Little Hoodrat Friend" more distinct.

That said, it was a great show, and evidence that the Hold Steady may be the best live band in America right now. It's surely the one having the most fun. Perusing write-ups of other stops on this tour, I see that Finn's show-closing exhortation about the joy of what the band does is more shtick than spontaneity, but I don't doubt its sincerity. Seeing the lead singer of a band pogo-jumping along with the crowd, a grin on his face bigger than that of anyone staring up at him, is a rare thing. In an interview for a piece to preview the show on CorridorBuzz.com, Tad Kubler credited the band's success to playing what they would want to hear, which, luckily, seems to be what a lot of other people want to hear, too: "To be honest, I think it was just being at the age we were, we were just going to do what we wanted to do, and I think that’s part of what people respond to. That kind of humility or earnestness or whatever you want to call it. It’s not really influenced by anything else than what we would want to hear."

Labels: live shows, music

Bob Dylan may be as old school as they come, but he (or rather, his organization) is pretty savvy when it comes to marketing. He has a new album, Together Through Life, coming April 28 this month, and anyone with a pulse would be hard pressed to say they didn't know it. Word is seemingly everywhere, and a lot of it came free of charge.

First, Dylan offered the track "Beyond Here Lies Nothin'" for free download, while this week he offers Newsweek the chance to host "Feel a Change Comin' On." In addition, an interview with Bill Flanagan, the first two parts of which were posted on Dylan's web site, now moves to Newsweek.com, where the third installment is now posted. Who could have predicted in 1993 when the Internet began to take off that newspapers would be cast aside in favor of reading on tiny TV screens and an artist busy recording covers of old tunes would be used to draw eyeballs to that new format?

But the marketing doesn't stop there. In a nod to past promotions that allowed you to put your own text on Dylan's cue cards in the video for "Subterranean Homesick Blues," a promotion for "Beyond Here Lies Nothin'" allows users to create a "lyrical portrait video" that includes their own text and colors that reflect their mood. Here's mine.

That's a lot of cutting-edge promo for a 67-year-old folksinger. Will it matter? Well, Dylan had his first No. 1 album in 30 years with Modern Times, so anything is possible. His target demographic is certainly of the CD-buying, rather than MP3-downloading type. And early reviews are positive.

Labels: Bob Dylan, marketing, music

Gene Simmons was right, it seems: It was too loud, so I'm probably too old. Or, in the very least, I value my hearing too much. I tried to weather the onslaught that was No Age on Saturday night as the Mission Creek Festival came to a close, but it was too much. I appreciate more than enjoy the band's sophomore disc, Nouns, and hoped that the duo's live show would reveal something I was missing. I get that there are decent pop hooks beneath the fuzz of distortion and noise, and sought to hear those in clearer relief against that backdrop. Instead, the noise reigned, obscuring nearly everything the band seemed to want to accomplish musically.

They kicked of with "Teen Creeps," or rather, with a squalling wall of feedback and abrasion that was ear-splittingly loud. Then they began to play. Dean Spunt began pounding on his drums, then Randy Randall unleashing a torrent of distorted power chords, all atop that initial PA-taxing cacophony. My ears hurt just typing this. Moving way back in the room, using the decent-sized crowd to absorb some of the sound, I was able to pick out more of the actual songs, but as my ears -- foolishly left unguarded by very much needed plugs -- began to ache, I decided it was time to bail out. So sue me for liking hooks over aural assault. I'll stick with the records, where I can control the volume.

No problem with that Friday night, as Simon Joyner, John Vanderslice and Mountain Goats provided a nice singer-songwriter night of angsty folk-rock. I missed Joyner, but Vanderslice and the MG's John Darnielle each offered a tight set of acoustic guitar-fueled tunes. Vanderslice's music, shorn of the usual studio adornment this studio owner usual deploys, took some time to connect, but soon the crowd was fully engaged.

Darnielle, one of the big draws of the festival, had the audience in his hand from the first note (actually, earlier: a cameo on handclaps late in Vanderslice's set yielded the loudest applause of the night up to that point). He cut a wide swath through his enormous catalog, and told many stories as the set progressed. Darnielle spent several years living in Iowa in the early 2000s, and professed his love for the state. In one amusing story, he (rightly) mocked local television news for always seeking out the "Iowa connection" on any national story, saying it was OK to report big news without always seeking a local tie. Now that he lives in North Carolina, however, he joked that he rejects all news there that lacks an Iowa connection.

He closed with a rousing sing-along on Tallahassee's "No Children." He said it was written on an airplane in reaction to hearing Leann Womack's treacly love song "I Hope You Dance" on the way to the airport. In contrast to sap like "I hope you never lose your sense of wonder, you get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger," Darnielle offers "I hope that our few remaining friends give up on trying to save us, I hope we come up with a failsafe plot to piss off the dumb few that forgave us." Thinking now of the crowd singing along joyfully, I realize this is how I like my misanthropy: with a dash of humor and a clever turn of phrase rather than a2x4 of noise up the side of my head.

Labels: music

In addition to bringing as much great music to Iowa City in four days as we'd usually get in a month or two, the Mission Creek Festival also has expanded my horizons.

That expansion began Wednesday night with a concert by GZA/Genius, a member of Wu Tang Clan. I've long had a fascination with Wu Tang, more for their non-musical exploits, ideas and marketing, though I have Enter the 36 Chambers and a couple of solo albums from members. I didn't, until recently, have GZA's Liquid Swords, however. That has been rectified and I now have heard him perform it in concert.

GZA's performance led off and headlined the fest. He filled the normally staid Englert Theatre with a crowd full of beer-swilling (and occasionally pot-smoking) fans who chanted along with every word. I was amazed that a guy pacing back and forth across a stage bare save for a platform with a DJ manning two turntables could hold an audience's attention for 80 minutes, but he proved worthy to the task. Though I had listened to the album a handful of times, I didn't recognize much. But the pulse and energy of the music easily hooked me.

The best moment: A young fan at the show with his dad was pulled on stage by GZA early on. He was maybe 8 or 9, and he stood tentatively at first, then got into it, acting as a cheerleader/mute hype man for the star. Transposing that to my world: The Replacements get back together and perform Let It Be in it's entirety and my eldest gets pulled onstage by Paul Westerberg.

Thursday night was less of a stretch, but I nonetheless took in bands I might not have stayed up for had it been a non-festival show. First came Headlights, a band whose web site clips put me in the mind of the Cardigans, but which actually offered rocking, peppy pop full of carnivalesque keyboards and sharp vocals. That was followed by Fruit Bats, a band that on record sounds like the Posies' Ken Stringfellow fronting the Shins (leader Eric Johnson has been a Shins sideman) but that sounded more like a countrified power pop band live. A nice cover of Bob Dylan's "You Ain't Goin' Nowhere" (by way of the Byrds' version) was a highlight.

Last came Beach House. I've heard both of the band's albums, and while I admire their craft, I'm rarely in the mood for such a comedown. The live show was very different, an in-your-face wash of echo-laden guitar, trebley keyboards and soaring vocals. It was bracing and made me want to go back to those records in search of that same intensity.

Tonight, I'll catch John Vanderslice and Mountain Goats, and will wrap up Saturday with No Age. Watch here Sunday for a full report.

Labels: Mission Creek, music

My fandom of Gomez is rather improbable. I'm not a big fan of electronic music (as discussed yesterday in my post about Pocket) and I'm even less a fan of the blues. But those are the two key ingredients in early Gomez music, and somehow in a "your peanut butter is in my chocolate" sort of alchemy, the result is much greater than the sum of its parts.

The band released its sixth album on Tuesday, A New Tide, and that title coupled with the production of Brian Deck made me hope for new things. Alas, A New Tide is really an extension of 2006's How We Operate, which took the band in a slightly poppier, more mainstream direction. Perhaps the album titles should be reversed.

I first saw Gomez at SXSW in 1998 at an in-store at Waterloo Records. I'd heard about but never heard the band, and was blown away by the short set. The band was in the U.S. for the first time, supporting it's debut, Bring It On, which went on to win the coveted Mercury Prize. The band's mix of acoustic blues (think Mississippi John Hurt), subtle electronics and folk music was a winning combination. I loved the impossibly gruff vocals of babyfaced Ben Ottewell, and was primed for more greatness from the band.

While each disc has had its moments, and I've regretted none of my Gomez-related purchases thus far -- which include the two-disc live album Out West and the odds and sods collection Abandoned Shopping Trolley Hotline -- that initial promise was never really met. Instead, the band seemed to settle into a groove. It's a good groove that continues to yield strong songs, if not strong albums, but one that never challenges the band or the listener.

Such is the case with A New Tide. Though producer Deck has helmed many oddball projects -- Califone, Tortoise and and Wheat among them -- his contribution here seems to be as the latest person to inject a hint of anarchy to the proceedings. It's just a hint -- the good-time vibe and carefully constructed songs never let bleeps, blips and other assorted noises do anything more than color the songs.

The band makes me think of Beth Orton, another British act that started promising, and while issuing a handful of good records, never capitalized on a seemingly new direction. At least Gomez has been more prolific, with the above-mentioned output in a decade as opposed to Orton's four albums and handful of singles and EPs in a dozen years.

Gomez performed "Airstream Driver" from the new album on "Late Night with Jimmy Fallon" on Tuesday. Watch it here.

Labels: music

Not being the biggest fan of electronic music, and being even less knowledgeable about the world of remixes, I had never heard of the Burnside Project or Pocket or Richard Jankovich before a press release about his latest project hit my inbox. Suffice to say that I'm going to start paying more attention.

Jankovich's latest effort as Pocket would be intriguing enough without the impressive list of collaborators.He plans to digitally issue an album's worth of singles throughout 2009, each a collaboration with other artists. Each release, an EP, really, will feature remixes from other artists. I'm a sucker for things like this, and will definitely be watching this closely.

Then you get to the collaborators. He starts with a bang: Robyn Hitchcock offers vocals on the first track, "Surround Him with Love." It's a typical bit of dance-y electronic music given personality by Hitchcock, who starts the track repeating the phrase "reptile brain" over a slinky beat. It's not clear who wrote the lyrics, but if Jankovich did, he perfectly dialed into Hitchcock's strange aesthetic.

In addition to the songs for sale, Jankovich is also offering song stems for each lead track for free download for one month to encourage others to remix his work. In the meantime, listeners can get a sense of how others manipulated the track, as this single includes remixes by The Somnambulants, The STEALTH and KKS.

Future contributors will include Craig Wedren from Shudder to Think, Dave Smalley from Down By Law, Steve Kilbey of the Church and Tanya Donelly from Belly. Future remixers include Wedren, Slim Moon, novelist Rick Moody, Glen Mercer from the Feelies, Elk City and the Wrens.

Labels: music

So, word came down Friday night that my Synchronicity proposal for Continuum's 33 1/3 series had been passed over. It made the first cut, one of 170 out of the original 597, but is not part of the next list of 27 from which the final selections will be made. I'm disappointed, but not surprised. The odds were still against me (and everyone else) with 20 picks expected from that very long shortlist.

I did think that commerce was in my favor, however. When series editor David Barker reported earlier this month that "economy related goings-on" at Continuum meant the selection process was on hold, I figured having a proposal about a band that had the highest-grossing tour in the country two years ago -- selling $350 million in tickets -- might be particularly appealing at a time when it's hard to pry money from people.

Alas, it was not to be. Instead, we have these 27 proposals from which who knows how many books will be selected:

AC/DC - Highway to Hell
Aretha Franklin - Amazing Grace
The Beatles - The Beatles
Bob Dylan - Time Out of Mind
The Cramps - Songs the Lord Taught Us
David Bowie - Ziggy Stardust
Devo - Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo
Dinosaur Jr: You're Living All Over Me
ELO - Out of the Blue
Grateful Dead - Closing of Winterland
Johnny Cash - American Recordings
Kiss - Destroyer
Leonard Cohen - Songs of Leonard Cohen
Lil' Wayne - Da Drought 3
Liz Phair - Exile in Guyville
Lou Reed - Metal Music Machine
Neil Young - Tonight's the Night
Operation Ivy - Energy
Paul Simon - Graceland
Radiohead - Kid A
Rolling Stones - Some Girls
Slint - Spiderland
Television - Marquee Moon
Violent Femmes - Violent Femmes
Ween - Chocolate and Cheese
White Stripes - White Blood Cells
Young Marble Giants - Colossal Youth

I could certainly make a case for most of these, though I do wonder about how many people would buy books about Operation Ivy or Young Marble Giants. I'm sure both proposals are stellar -- Barker hasn't really gone wrong yet on his picks -- but knowing the marketplace is a consideration, they are surprising. Regardless, I see a dozen books I'd buy tonight if they were on the shelf, so I look forward to the eventual publication of those selected.

Barker reports that the final selections will be announced by the end of April. So, those who did make the cut have a few more weeks to stew, while those of us who missed out can wait and watch without pressure.

I've read a lot of blog posts about these books and this process, and most folks seem to want to read proposals. So, since mine isn't doing any good any more, you can download it here. I haven't included my bio, but it at least gives you a sense of what I had hoped to do, and gives future prospective writers a look at an idea that made the first cut. Perhaps I'll do something with it someday, but in the very least the research, writing and anticipation were enough of a blast to make the entire process worthwhile.

Labels: 33 1/3, books, music

The rapid transition in the world of print publications hit home today as I picked up a copy of the new Blurt magazine on the same day I learned that another music magazine, Blender, will bite the dust. This could get confusing, so pay attention.

Blurt magazine debuted on newsstands recently, the first title I'm aware of that started online and moved to print. That comes, however, after Harp magazine, which begat Blurt, folded last year. It was purchased by JazzTimes parent Guthrie Inc. in 2003, and in announcing its closure last year, Guthrie CEO Glenn Sabin said, "Unfortunately, Harp's critical acclaim never translated into sustaining commercial success. Harp's lifecycle was ill timed with the precipitous decline of the music software industry, coupled with the consolidation of the consumer magazine newsstand business and rising paper and postage costs."

Those behind the mag, including publisher Scott Crawford, quickly regrouped and launched Blurt, an online magazine/web site. It is essentially Harp online, with a normal daily-updated web presence and a quarterly PDF magazine. That product was essentially a magazine in all aspects but the presence of paper. Instead, users would click through pages in a dedicated web-based viewer.

“Crawford told FOLIO: magazine earlier this year that the company had "gotten to the point of wanting a physical product to help brand the site—we want it to be the ‘soul’ of the web site in print.” At that time, the print product was planned as a quarterly. The premiere issue, however, says it will come out 10 times a year, or roughly as often as Harp.

Aesthetically and editorially, it is Harp in all but name only. I'm glad to have it back in whatever form, for I missed out on nearly all of its online coverage. For whatever reason, if I want online music coverage, a quick-hit site like Pitchfork works better for me. If I want long form journalism and criticism, I'd rather have a print product.

That means, however, that Blender's decision to cease publication and move exclusively to the web means I might actually pay more attention to it. I was never impressed with the magazine, stuffed as it was fully pix of scantily clad "singers" and 50-word CD reviews, but that's just the kind of thing that works online.

The magazine's April issue, on newsstands now, will be its last. Instead, it will limit coverage to its web site. It's as if each publication figured out its strength -- according to my tastes, anyway -- and decided to switch places to play to them.

Labels: magazines, music

Having just grudgingly ordered my third Robert Pollard-related disc of the year -- the Circus Devils' Gringos, which follows the Boston Spaceships' The Planets are Blasted and the solo The Crawling Distance -- I was pleasantly surprised to learn that Pollard has yet another disc set for release. While his recent output has been spotty at best -- I'd go so far as to say there's nothing that really sticks with me since the surprisingly consistent solo album Robert Pollard is Off to Business from way back last June -- this one holds promise. It's a pairing with Australian singer-songwriter Richard Davies, leader of the late lamented Moles and, most importantly for orch-pop fans, one half of Cardinal.

Two MP3s from the project, dubbed Cosmos, were posted today. The first, "Nude Metropolis," can be found at Magnet magazine's web site. The second, "Hail Mary" is posted at Stereogum. According to the reports, the 14-track disc, Jar of Jam Ton of Bricks, is due June 9 on Pollard's Happy Jack Rock Records. As with other Pollard collaborations, Davies wrote and recorded the music and Pollard wrote and sang the vocals and melodies. But four of the tracks, including "Hail Mary," feature Davies alone.

The MP3s are fantastic, and stand in stark contrast with Pollard's recent work. While Todd Tobias, who provides nearly all of the music for all of Pollard's releases these days, is a talented and prolific guy, the Pollard/Tobias collaborations are starting to all sound the same (yes, of course they throw a curveball with the forthcoming acoustic Gringo). From the first note of "Nude Metropolis," it's clear that Pollard will need to step it up; this is majestic pop that requires more than a tossed off vocal. It reminds me of his most successful collaborations, on discs with Mac MacCaughan, Tommy Keene and Tobin Sprout.

Nosing around the net in an attempt to catch up with Davies, who hasn't released a solo album since 2000's Barbarians, led me to something that bills itself as his "official (for now)" web site. Not much news there, save for word that an unreleased disc, Tonight's Music, has been shelved for at least two years, and, more exciting: Cardinal tracks. It seems Davies and Eric Matthews, the men behind Cardinal, got back together at some point during the past couple of years, but only came away with three tracks. That's usually the kind of news met with frustration, but instead, it came with a link: download the tracks here. They're good, if not entirely up to the standard of Cardinal's sole, self-titled disc.

Labels: music, Robert Pollard

Neil Young offers another look at his forthcoming album, Fork in the Road, with a self-directed video for the track "Cough Up the Bucks." It's a chugging Crazy Horse-esque tune that features Young chanting the title over and over and over. That occasionally gives way to some by-now-standard Young wanking. The noise parts every now and then for a pretty chorus: "Where did the money go? Where did all the cash flow?" Later he adds, "Where did all the revenue stream?"Other than another, seemingly incongruous line: "It's all about my car... and my girl... it's all about my world" (which seems a better description of the album itself than this song), that is the extent of the lyrics.

Neil Young - Cough Up The Bucks


The video shows Young in a suit and tie in the back of a stretch limo, talking on a cell phone, reading the Wall Street Journal and pecking at a laptop. That's it. Then again, all of the videos for the album have been self-shot, quickie productions that offer little more than an excuse to see what Young looks like these days and, more importantly, to hear the new songs. He has videos for at least four songs posted on his MySpace page, including the title track, the somewhat incongruous ballad "Light a Candle" and "Johnny Magic." As has been reported previously, the new disc is a concept album about eco-friendly cars. It's clearly a topic inspiring to Young, but the songs thus far haven't really resonated with this fan. The inspiration and execution seem similar to that for Living With War -- get mad, grab a guitar, hit "record" -- though the populist firestorm Young tapped into with that 2006 disc is absent here.

Labels: music, Neil Young

Carl Wilson, author of the 33 1/3 series entry on Celine Dion's Let's Talk About Love, acquitted himself well last night on "The Colbert Report." Wilson's book deals with issues of musical taste, and Colbert actually engages him somewhat on that topic. Of course, he cracks wise, but the focus remains very much on Wilson's work. It's a great bit of publicity for the book and for the series. View it here.

Labels: 33 1/3, books, music

I interviewed Gary Louris from the Jayhawks for a story to preview his show with Mark Olson Thursday in Cedar Rapids. It was great to talk with someone who has made so much of my favorite music and learn more about the duo's creative process, but the real treat was this bit of news: The Jayhawks' major-label catalog will see the deluxe reissue treatment this year.

"It’s a good time to be a Jayhawks fan," Louris said, mentioning that the reissues will include DVDs, bonus tracks and more, all through Sony Legacy. The project also will include a best-of, and extended DVD collection and a boxed set.

"I think the Jayhawks' day is finally kind of arriving in terms of getting the attention it deserved," he said.

As for the bonus tracks, he said "There’s a lot of stuff. The problem is being on the road and not being able to sort through it all."

Asked if the band's eponymous debut album might finally see release, he said "I'm going to say yes." The album, called Bunkhouse by fans, has been rumored for release for years (as have, come to think of it, these reissues). It is owned by Lost Highway records, which issued the Jayhawks' swan song, Rainy Day Music. Louris said the label seems to be "freaked out" about putting it out because its not sure it has the rights.

"It will come out, whether it’s next year or the year after that or..."

The prospect of live support for the reissue campaign is good. The Jayhawks lineup from 1994 (Tomorrow the Green Grass era: Louris, Olson, Tim O'Reagan, Marc Perleman and Karen Grotberg) reunited for a show in Spain last fall, and Louris hinted that another show and perhaps more are in the offing.

"We may do those occasionally, as basically a way to make money," he said. "I don’t see anything else beyond that. Making records? I don’t see that happening. It’s too hard to make a living that way. I love music but I need to make a living. I don’t know if it’s financially viable to support five or six adults that way."

That said, he fully expects to continue making music with Olson as a duo.

"This is just kind of our start," he said. When asked if the duo would make future records, he replied, "Oh yeah."

Labels: Jayhawks, music

Word came tonight that my 33 1/3 book proposal for the Police's Synchronicity is on the shortlist under consideration. The original 597 proposals have been whittled to 170. That means my odds have dropped from about 3.3 percent (how fitting) to about 1 in 8. Series Editor David Barker writes that this next step of winnowing the long list to create this round's slate of selections will take six to eight more weeks. So, while it's a relief to make it this far, the pressure remains.

Parsing the list -- which includes many albums that I'd love to read about -- I'd say I'm really competing against 150 or so proposals. I stripped 20 out because there were either two for the same album or for the same group, and they'll obviously not pick two proposals about the same book and aren't likely, given the limited number of books they can put out, to do two by the same artist in the same batch. All just speculation, of course, but it makes me feel better.

In the next few weeks I plan to approach the camps of Andy Summers, Stewart Copeland and Sting to see if I can gauge their interest in participating. If they don't, there still is a wealth of information out there to fuel a book.

I have been Twittering about the band and the proposal process over the past few weeks and will continue to do so. To follow me, go here.

Labels: 33 1/3, books, music

I came late to Bruce Springsteen, so my perspective on the artist is somewhat skewed. Fans who have been with him from the beginning have experienced him in two phases. The first was as ascendant rock star who was guarded and reserved. The second, which we're still in, is as superstar in stasis (or decline) who is effusive, lighthearted and funny.

It is the latter Springsteen who is on display on the Boss' web site now. He has penned (typed?) a Super Bowl Journal, chronicling his performance there during halftime with the E Street Band. It's an illuminating, entertaining and entrancing look behind the scenes of the biggest show of the year.

He discusses his choice of footwear, his pre-concert jitters (described at "Lord Don't Let Me Screw the Pooch in Front of 100 Million People") and the performance itself. He talks about things ridiculous -- the now infamous (though completely overblown) "crotch shot" caused by overshooting the end of the stage on a knee slide ("Too much adrenalin, a late drop, too much speed, here I come Mike…BOOM") -- and sublime -- "Since the inception of our band it was our ambition to play for everyone. We've achieved a lot but we haven't achieved that. Our audience remains tribal…that is predominantly white. On occasion, the Inaugural Concert, during a political campaign, touring through Africa in '88, particularly in Cleveland with President Obama, I looked out and sang "Promised Land" to the audience I intended it for, young people, old people, black, white, brown, cutting across religious and class lines. That's who I'm singing to today."

And at the end of one of the biggest nights of his career, he's just another working guy blowing off steam once he gets home: "By 3 am, I am back home, everyone in the house fast asleep and tucked in bed. I am sitting in the yard over an open fire, staring up again into that black night sky, my ears still ringing…'Oh yeah, it's alright.'"

Labels: Bruce Springsteen, music, TV

Three out-of-print Richard Buckner albums, including his debut, will be digitally reissued by Merge Records on March 10.

The label will bring out 1995's Bloomed, 2000's The Hill and 2002's Impasse. There are many who will argue that his debut, Bloomed, is his best (I'm not among them, preferring the two MCA albums that followed), while The Hill and Impasse were both brave experimental albums that found him putting poems from Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology to music (The Hill) and creating a libretto of sorts with each song reading like a short story with no verses or chorus to speak of (Impasse).

Merge got Buckner to say a bit about each disc, and the results are predictably bittersweet and funny. About the recording sessions for Bloomed, he says, "We finished four days later and I flew back to San Francisco, dismembered the band and embarked on a tour that would last about 15 years (or a few days, if you count what I actually remember)." The uncompromising The Hill, which was one long track when it was first released, will now come with normal track breaks: "My thought, at the time, was to have the listener read the poems along with the music as one piece, since some of the characters in the book belong next to each other, story-wise. My demands have lowered with age, though, and the digital re-release on Merge is indexed song by song." He has little to say about Impasse: "Somewhere between tours of the lower 48 and ice hikes to The Black Dog in the Fog, Impasse was finally completed and released in 2002."

No word on whether the EP Impass-ette will be included with Impasse. That release included acoustic versions of two Impasse tracks and three otherwise unavailable songs.

Digital release is probably wise. As good as Buckner's discs are, and as much critical acclaim as he gets, he just doesn't sell. We talked about that in 1999 (pre-The Hill) when he came through Iowa on tour. "I know I don't sell that many records, I know that for a fact," he said. "But I tour so much, and play all these shows, and I just think, 'Where are all of you coming from? You're not buying the records.' "He went on to say that he saw The Hill, originally released on the tiny Chicago label Overcoat Recordings, as an experiment. "So I'll see how many I sell of this. Can I sell 2,000? I don't think so, but I don't know."

There is word of a possible new album from Buckner next year on Merge: "The negotiations are being held up, though, by our lawyers. Evidently, there are a few kinks based on something called “The BBQ Clause” There is a “use of sauce” stipulation that has yet to be worked out (Porky vs. Supreme Court, 1873)." It would be his first since 2006's excellent The Meadow.

MP3: "Gauzy Dress" from Bloomed
MP3: "Emily Sparks" from The Hill
MP3: "Born in to Giving" from Impasse

Labels: music, reissues

When I was 16, I was part of a mission trip to Los Angeles, one of a dozen lily-white Iowa kids headed to the big city to lend a hand. I can't honestly say I recall a single thing we did in a mission sort of way, but I can tell you that we visited several record shops. It was like the gates of music heaven had been opened and I had sprouted wings. I carried with me at all times a list of records that I had read about but never seen that I hoped to buy. At the top of the list was Volcano Suns' All Night Lotus Party. I'm not sure where I heard about it -- my guess is Rolling Stone, which was about the only music magazine I read back in those days -- but I was convinced I needed to hear it.

I found it in the first store we visited -- on vinyl, of course -- and guarded it closely throughout the rest of the trip and the flight home. When I put the needle in the groove, the first thing that I heard was a blast of feedback, followed closely by a jackhammer guitar line that made me fear I'd somehow failed to notice the review's mention that this was a hardcore band. Then the drum beat kicked in, a nicely paced 4/4 that cut the song's pace by a quarter, and Peter Prescott began to sing: "I'm a collector of stuff that most folks ignore, you know that one man's ceiling is another man's floor." I was hooked.

I didn't know that Prescott had been the drummer in Mission of Burma. I hadn't even heard of Mission of Burma. I didn't know there was a previous Volcano Suns album. I just knew I loved this album, which was about as far from what I was hearing on the radio in Des Moines as I could imagine.

Not until I got to college a couple of years later did I find a similar vista of great music, allowing me to go back and grab the band's debut, The Bright Orange Years, and then keep up through Bumper Crop, Farced and the rest.

I wore these albums out -- the first three, anyway -- hoping one day to see them on CD. Now, 20 years later (!) Merge Records has answered the call, reissuing those first two albums on CD (their first time in the format) with remastering and bonus tracks. For the first time in 20 years, I can hear "White Elephant" without the tiny skip that I've heard so many times that I expect it no matter how many times I spin my pristine digital copy.

Most critics prefer the debut, though I'll always lean toward All Night Lotus Party, if for no other reason than that I'm intimately familiar with its every note. Both discs sound great, the remastering by one-time band member Bob Weston maintaining the rumbling fuzz while bringing a clarity that makes the hooks shine.

It's enough to have these albums on CD, but Merge has sweetened the deal with 7" tracks, radio sessions and outtakes. The nine bonus tracks on the debut include the A and B sides to its first single, "Sea Cruise" and "Greasy Spine," an early comp appearance in "Tree Stomp" and the band's manic cover of Prince's "1999."

The 11 bonus tracks on All Night Lotus Party begin with a medley of the Beatles "Polythene Pam" and the band's own "Greasy Spine," which is preceded by Prescott saying, "There isn't room on this tape." The Amboy Dukes' "Journey to the Center of the Mind" and Spinal Tap's "Jazz Odyssey" also are tackled, all sounding pretty much like what you'd expect. A strange bit of studio trickery, "Walk Around Dub" is also exactly as advertised, while three songs that would eventually appear on the band's follow-up, Bumper Crop (Here's hoping these do well enough that Merge will bring it out next) -- "Time Off," "Magic Sky" and "Curse of the Name" -- show up in early form. "The Central" and "Local Wise Man," which appear as bonus tracks on The Bright Orange Years, also showed up on Bumper Crop.

It's an impressive presentation, one that pops open the time capsule on mid-80s college rock for a much-needed history lesson.

MP3: Jak from The Bright Orange Years
MP3: White Elephant from All Night Lotus Party

Labels: music, reissues

I was looking for a way to summarize my thoughts about Bruce Springsteen's halftime Super Bowl performance, when I came across this bit of ridiculousness (can you take anything from someone who looks like this seriously?) and found my answer: A point-by-point refutation. For those who don't want to waste time reading what Rob O'Connor has to say, just recast all of my comments below in the negative, add a heavy dose of misguided snark, and you're there.

1. Bruce begins with a direct address to the home audience: Sure, it was cheesy, but it was also funny. "Walk away from the guacamole, put those chicken fingers down!" he exhorted. Springsteen is often seen as a humorless champion of the common man, but this performance was proof otherwise. He's a talented snake-oil salesman/song and dance man, and he made it clear we were in for a show.

2. He opens with "Tenth Avenue Freezeout": If there is any song that could be considered the epic of the E Street Band, this is it. It's a rollicking, fun track that gives Clarence Clemons a chance to shine.
3. He brought everyone with him, including a horn section: The Super Bowl show is as big as they come, and Springsteen is one of few performers (U2 among them) who can put on a show of a scale to do it justice.

4. He played a track from his new album: No, it wasn't the more obvious "My Lucky Day," but at least it was "Working on a Dream" and not "Queen of the Supermarket," right?

5. He brought a gospel choir with him: Sure, you could see this as overkill, worked in this context. Again, it's a big show (with an obviously big budget), so why not pull out all the stops?

6. He played a football-specific version of "Glory Days": Few expected this track to be among the Boss's four-song, 12-minute set, so it was a pleasant surprise. Wonders about the incongruity of a baseball song during the biggest football game were quickly dispelled as Springsteen changed baseball to football and speedball to hail Mary. From there, it was all fun.

7. Bruce got a referee into the mix: A show this big is as much theater as it is a music performance, and Bruce delivered. Yes, it was strange and unnecessary, but it was fun, too. And who can keep from laughing to see Little Steven declaring it "Boss Time?"

8. Springsteen continued his years-long shtick of trying to create a revival at his shows: Critics obviously haven't seen the E Street Band in the last decade. Springsteen has long been about climbing on top of the piano, declaring the crowd righteous and doing his best to emulate James Brown. The man puts on a show. 'Nuff said.

9. He got everyone involved: With that many people on stage, it would be easy to let a few seem superfluous. Not everyone was busy every moment, and you certainly couldn't hear everyone every second, but the E Street Band is a well-oiled machine and everyone contributes. That means that, yes, Clarence even breaks out a cowbell on "Glory Days," much as he has for the past 25 years.

10. Bruce needed no wardrobe malfunction to entertain us: Remember when a musician could just perform and that was enough? No wardrobe changes, no laser light shows, no choreography? Of course, Bruce was abetted by fireworks, but he didn't need them. He showed that you can be family friendly and still rock.

Labels: Bruce Springsteen, music, TV

When something grows on me over time, I usually wish I could go back and remember exactly what it was that turned me off so much the first time through. Or, conversely, try to recapture what I liked so much about something that wore thin on repeat listens. With that in mind, I decided to record my thoughts, song by song, about Bruce Springsteen's new Working on a Dream. The disc has drawn scathing reviews (most people cite Greg Kot's takedown as being among the most vicious) and a few tongue baths (Yes, that means you, Rolling Stone).

Before the music hits, a word about the cover: It's awful. This isn't an original sentiment, but it bears repeating. A high school kid with rudimentary Photoshop skills could do better.

On to the music.

1. Outlaw Pete - Wow. Has there been a more underwhelming lead-off track on a Springsteen album than this? (In case you're wondering, the answer is no.) This plodding, eight-minute ballad goes nowhere musically and the narrative seems trite. Allmusic.com calls this a revival of the E Street Band's "wild, woolly sound," adding that it's "Working on a Dream at its best, playing like nothing less than The E Street Shuffle as reflected and refracted through Arcade Fire's naked hero worship." Um, no. This is a mannered, studio-bound creation with none of the fire the classic E Street Band would have brought to the material.

2. My Lucky Day - OK, this is more like it. Or, at least more like what Springsteen was cranking out around Lucky Town, fittingly enough, which was his closest approximation of the fiery pop of The River tracks left in the vaults until the Tracks boxed set. Crunching guitars, pounding piano and an earnest vocal. It's not great -- this would have been the sixth or seventh best track on Magic -- but it's a nice blast of energy after the languorous "Pete" and would have made a better opener. Of course, it would be better if Springsteen was singing it like a guy whose gal was the bright spot in a crappy life as opposed to one for whom a significant other is just another amenity. Still, this'll be a burner live.

3. Working on a Dream - Boilerplate Boss. If someone asked a lesser artist to come up with a Springsteen song, this might be the result. It's melodically uninteresting and the lyrics feel like they were composed by an online random verse generator. Does the Boss have a secret Bruce-o-matic program to tap when he's feeling uninspired? Want proof that Bruce is just as bored with this as you are? He couldn't even be bothered to write an ending. Nice fadeout.

4. Queen of the Supermarket - This track has drawn the most heat from critics, and with good reason. Weird Al doesn't need to parody Springsteen; with this he does it to himself. "A dream awaits in aisle number two." Groan. Springsteen told interviewer Mark Hagen that "they opened up this big, beautiful supermarket near where we lived. Patti and I would go down, and I remember walking through the aisles - I hadn't been in one in a while - and I thought his place is spectacular. This place is... it's a fantasy land! And then I started to get into it. I started looking around and hmmm - the subtext in here is so heavy!" But there's no subtext in Springsteen's song. At the height of his powers, Springsteen would have spun this inspiration into a tale completely removed from the source material. Here, he doesn't even bother to look up: "With my shopping cart I move through the heart of a sea of fools so blissfully unaware."

5. What Love Can Do - Springsteen would have been all over MTV with this in the early 1990s, with its bouncy beat, hard-strummed acoustic guitar and obvious hook. It's a slight song, but catchy enough (and short enough) to overcome its shortcomings. This and "My Lucky Day" are the only tracks where Springsteen seems to have any empathy for his protagonist.

6. This Life - Ah, the Beach Boys homage. This feels like a pale retread of Magic's majestic "Girls in their Summer Clothes." Is that a saxophone? Hello, Clarence! Where've you been keeping yourself?

7. Good Eye - Brendan O'Brien's production has been criticized by those who find fault with this album, and I can see the validity of that argument here. This fairly pedestrian rocker feels like something run through the "swamp rock" function in ProTools, and it's never good when the production draws so much attention to itself. This is another song that will probably sound pretty great live, stripped of its studio gadgetry. Lyrically, it's a blues, so it doesn't say much. Bruce probably means to be profound when he sings "I had my good eye to the dark and my blind eye to the sun," but to me that just seems like common sense.

8. Tomorrow Never Knows - The Beatles created a swirl of psychedelia under this title, but Springsteen offers the quietest, prettiest track of the set here. Some muted pedal steel (Nils Lofgren, I assume) offers some nice color. This is the first track, at 2:13, that had me reaching for the rewind button.

9. Life Itself - There's something interesting going on here, I think, but it eludes me on this first listen. Springsteen's vocal sounds like a demo take, the singer more worried about making sure all the words fit than conveying any passion or nuance. Again, the E Street Band seems elsewhere; this could be any group of studio musicians. A bit of bombast would help here. Alas, another fadeout.

10. Kingdom of Days - Another track that feels like a Magic leftover, a lesser "Girls in Their Summer Clothes." The strings soften an already laid-back arrangement, while also giving the track some much-needed emotional heft. Like much of the rest of this, Bruce seems torn here. Is he trying to make grand statements (like, "this is our Kingdom of Days") or capture the minutiae of everyday life (like suddenly realizing that a supermarket is a shrine to consumerism)?

11. Surprise, Surprise - Springsteen goes all Brill Building here, crafting a straight up pop song that, in its complete lack of rough edges, sounds unlike anything else he has done. The string section must have knocked out "Kingdom of Days" quick enough to be willing to stick around for this, adding some syrup to Bruce's sweet concoction. If this was a '60s nugget covered by the 1980s Boss, it would be fantastic. Here, it's simply pleasant enough.

12. The Last Carnival - Even the harshest critics of this album have praised this tribute to late E Streeter Danny Federici, and rightly so. It feels more like the Springsteen of Devils and Dust, and its the first vocal sung as if he means it. The mixture of pain and celebration is palpable, and that's sorely missing on the tracks that precede this. The production has a lighter touch as well, allowing the song to breathe.

13. The Wrestler - This song from the soundtrack to the film of the same name is listed as a bonus track. It does have a feel different from the rest of the album (save for "The Last Carnival"), more cinematic, of course, than the other dozen tunes. In the past, Springsteen would take these last two tracks and write an entire album around them. Here, he offers them as a coda of sorts to an album whose reach exceeds its grasp, redeeming the set to a degree. I haven't seen the film, so I don't know how well it contributes there, but "The Wrestler" -- along with "The Last Carnival" -- shows that Springsteen has the ability to do more than he does on the other 11 tracks that make up his Dream.

In sum, I really wanted to like this album. I wanted the naysayers to be wrong. But Kot's charge of "underwhelming" is on the money. I haven't spent much time with Human Touch, the album to which this is compared, because it has too much baggage (and "57 Channels") and I'd rather listen to good Springsteen if I have the time. This could grow on me -- and if so, this document will be an interesting benchmark -- but I fear it'll be the first Springsteen album I own to be filed to gather dust. And that's a shame.

Labels: Bruce Springsteen, music

Great yet puzzling news regarding I.R.S. Records today: The label, thanks to the corporate efforts of Capitol/EMI, is releasing a big chuck of its back catalog to digital stores starting Feb. 10. Then through March 17, each week will bring a new batch of albums and tracks.

That last part is the puzzling part. Rather than just release whole albums, the label is taking a piecemeal approach by culling some key tracks from its albums. That might make sense if it was picking the random standout from a lesser-known album, but it seems to be doing nearly the opposite, issuing entire albums from the likes of Drywall (?) and Alarm guitarist Mike Sharp while pulling only eight tracks from Let's Active's catalog.

Why not just make everything available, or at least the full albums from which you pull tracks? There must be a business or legal reason behind the decision.

The heavy hitters on the I.R.S. roster already are available digitally, with albums by R.E.M. and the Go Gos in circulation. Perhaps a good response to this latest batch will spur those behind the effort to go the rest of the way and put everything out there.

Labels: commerce, music

Lots of news from Joe Pernice this week, including word that he has completed his forthcoming novel and has two albums in the works.

The novel, It Feels So Good When I Stop, is due in September from Riverhead. Pernice writes in his occasional newsletter that "It’s not a book for kids, which is a general way of saying it’s not for anyone offended by raw language and sex. I sent an email to my family telling them that my book should not be read by anyone under twenty-one, anyone over fifty-five and Judy (my sister)." No word on a plot, but given the author, I'm guessing there is some melancholic heartbreak to be found in its pages. It will be Pernice's third book, following his self-published poetry collection Two Blind Pigeons and the 33 1/3 book about the Smiths' Meat is Murder.

Pernice reports there are "quite a few incidental musical references throughout," which led him to what sounds like a covers album/soundtrack of sorts. Tracks include James and Bobby Purify’s "I’m Your Puppet," the Chills "Rolling Moon," Tom T. Hall's "That’s How I Got to Memphis and Sebadoh's "Soul and Fire." His label, Ashmont Records, will release the disc around the time of the novel's publication.

The true follow up to 2006's Live a Little from the Pernice Brothers also is in the works. Pernice has been recording tracks for the disc for quite some time with Ric Menck, James Walbourne and his brother, Bob Pernice. It is due sometime in 2009 under the name Murphy Bed. (Here is Pernice's amusing story about the title: "I was planning on calling it Light, Sweet, Crude (in my mind, all three words are adjectives), but some other band beat me to the punch. It’s just as well, I suppose. I’ve decided to call the album Murphy Bed. (If that name is taken, I’m shelving the album for all time.)").

He explains the gap between albums with an excuse: He decided to put everything on hold until the book was done because "Riverhead/Penguin was paying me real money. If you think Ashmont Records Inc. would do in kind, you need to get your wiring checked out. And anyway—the international financial crisis and a handful of bloody conflicts aside—the world has done just fine in my absence from releasing albums."

Labels: books, music, Pernice

After a return (of sorts) to the kind of quality we all know he is capable of, Neil Young seems to have gone off the rails again. Not that Prairie Wind and Chrome Dreams II were great albums by any stretch, but if reports from those more privy to news than I are to be believe, his forthcoming album will be a stinker. Fork in the Road is reported to be a concept album about eco-friendly cars. Young clearly cares about this issue, having started LincVolt, a company that seeks to create a "clean automobile propulsion technology"

The first hint of the album's quality is the fairly awful title song, a video for which is streaming on Young's site (it features Young with earbuds plugged into an Apple (oh, Neil) lipsynching while standing in what looks like his back yard). It's the kind of chugging two-chord blues that Young and Crazy Horse can stumble through as soon as you plug 'em in, with lyrics about driving big rigs, blogging and the bailout. It's clear Young was inspired, threw something together immediately and plans to put it out. These efforts can be either raw and inspired (Living With War) or hamfisted and embarrassing ("Let's Roll"). This would seem to fall into the latter category. As the forthcoming Archives vol. 1 box set that was pushed back yet again because of this project (though those with $323.99 can preorder now) proves, Young a) has a lot of things in boxes that never see the light of day, and b) he's not his own best editor.

So, the saving grace is that there is a lot of great music from Young both in the vaults and (one hopes) in the offing, so it will be easy to politely nudge aside this codger's indulgence while we wait.

Labels: music, Neil Young

The new U2 single, "Get on Your Boots" is... strange. It's a Beatlesque (late-period Beatles, to clarify) romp that has the feel, to quote Bono's odd little lyric, of "rockets at the fun fair... candy floss ice cream..." a confection of sorts. Contrary to the title, which seems to promise a call to arms as we move into a new era (a view likely aided by the band's performance yesterday at the "We Are One" pre-inaugural concert at the Lincoln Memorial), the song is the kind of light fun the band seems to have settled into since it's return around the turn of the millennium.

It's not a bad song, necessarily, just not what was expected. Perhaps Bono and Co. got what they wanted with Obama's victory, and are content to celebrate for a while. Or, considering this is just one song of 11 on No Line on the Horizon, perhaps its the lightest song on a batch that jumps back to the band's more experimental Achtung, Baby/Zooropa period. Of course given the tongue-in-cheek presentation here, it could also signal a return to (cringe) the Pop aesthetic.

Only time (and downloads of the sure-to-be-leaked album) will tell. The disc is due in stores March 3.

Labels: music, U2

I'm about a month late in posting this, but it has been a busy holiday season/year/week/etc.

So, better late than never, here is my list of the top 20 CDs of 2008. It might seem that one need be a white guy over the age of 40 to make this list, but that's ridiculous. That guy in Bon Iver isn't even 30 yet (let alone those kids in Vampire Weekend) and Alejandro Escovedo isn't white. So there.

1. Bob Dylan – Tell-Tale Signs (Columbia)

Best-of lists typically have separate categories for re-issues and compilations, but what about compilations of songs that haven’t been previously released? In the case of a collection as strong as Tell-Tale Signs, you say rules be damned and stick it at the top of your best CDs of the year list. As good as Dylan’s last three albums have been – and they have been awfully good – this is better. Mainly composed of songs that either weren’t included on those albums or versions that were left in the vault in favor of others, it is a surprisingly cohesive batch of tunes. If anything, it shows that Dylan isn’t his own best editor; several of the songs here are in versions far superior to the originally released takes. And even when that isn’t the case, such as “Mississippi” from Love and Theft, Dylan and his band still perform such radically different arrangements that, save for a similar melody and lyrics, it’s like a different song.

2. Fleet Foxes – Fleet Foxes (Sub Pop)

It was hard coming up with a No. 2 pick for this year’s list, because there were few stellar standouts and a lot of great albums that seemed on par with each other. That said, Fleet Foxes rises to the top simply because its album transcends a lot of things to remain a fresh, vital listen. On first listen, Fleet Foxes sounded like the work of a My Morning Jacket cover band performing Shins songs as interpreted by Band of Horses. The soaring choruses, the reverb, the acoustic instruments… it all seemed as if it had been done before. But listening again (and again, and again), it became clear that there was much more here than pastiche or homage. The songs are solid, the massed choruses heavenly and the whole thing bears the hallmark of a great album: As soon as it’s done, you want to hear it again.

3. Randy Newman – Harps and Angels

I have joked that inclusion on this list requires two things: being white and being at least 40 years old. That’s not quite true, but inclusions like Randy Newman certainly give that impression. I came to Newman late – just this year, in fact. I’d always been somewhat familiar with his work, but he was an old guy writing songs that were too clever by half. What did I care? A solo live show followed by some quality time spent with his catalog convinced me I cared a lot. No, this isn’t an undisputed classic like 12 Songs or Sail Away, but it’s full of Newman’s witty, clever and catchy songs, and that merits a spot on any best-of list.

4. Nick Cave – Dig!!! Lazarus, Dig!!!

This was a year of surprises. Artists I had given up on or ignored suddenly issued albums that were so good they forced me to listen. Nick Cave is the first, best example. I have friends who are huge fans, but I’ve never done more than dabble. Perhaps it was a matter of working out a few things with his Grinderman side project last year, but Cave roars out of the gate here with an album that, unlike past efforts, kept me hooked from top to bottom. Cave’s leering swagger of a voice is at full power here, and his band locks into a groove that doesn’t let up until the final track plays.

5. Matthew Ryan – Vs. the Silver State (00:02:59)

Matthew Ryan is the kind of artist for whom terms like “criminally ignored” are coined. Ryan came onto the scene in the late 1990s as a sort of proto-Springsteen, an angry young man with energy to burn and the voice of a man twice his age. Over time his profile lowered and his sound shifted dynamics. Volume was replaced by intensity, and his songs took on an emotional depth. Still, it was frustrating to know he had a great rock album in him that wasn’t being let out. Vs. the Silver State unleashes the beast, and finds him marrying the lyrical and emotional heft of his later work to the aural firepower of his debut. The result is a fantastic album that should have put him back on people’s radar.

6. David Byrne and Brian Eno – Everything that Happens Will Happen Today (Todo Mundo)

Another surprise. When former Talking Heads frontman David Byrne and that band’s producer (and top-notch solo artist) Brian Eno first collaborated, it was on an avant garde world music-inspired collection. Here, they instead create something closer to Eno’s more recent solo work, with icy synths and jittery melodies over which Byrne sings his own lyrics. He humanizes Eno’s music in a way its creator never could, while Eno’s intricately crafted songs eschew the cutesiness that sometimes mars Byrne’s solo work. It’s an inspired pairing.

7. Stephen Malkmus – Real Emotional Trash (Matador)

With his latest album, the former Pavement frontman Stephen Malkmus seems to have fully embraced his role as a guitar hero. Six of the 10 songs here top five minutes, with the title track clocking in at 10 minutes. But there is no noodling here; these are tightly arranged songs. Some credit goes to new drummer Janet Weiss, the pulse behind the late lamented Sleater-Kinney. Fans with blindered tastes who prefer early Pavement would be hard-pressed to detect Malkmus’ presence here beyond his ever-laconic vocals. But for those who kept up all along, it feels like exactly where he has been headed since Pavement’s final album. As such, it’s no stretch to call it his best solo work, the one that best aligns intent and execution.

8. Okkervil River - The Stand Ins (Jagjaguwar)

This disc was originally conceived as the second part of a two-disc release with last year’s The Stage Names. Despite that, it stands on its own. Things fell into place for this Austin, Texas, band with its 2005 album, Black Sheep Boy, and its winning streak continues here. Leader Will Sheff writes ramshackle tunes that feel perpetually ready to fall apart, but he keeps them together through the sheer force of his considerable personality. With elements of rock, folk, indie and turn of the (last) century balladeering, the band concocts music that is fun yet filling.

9. Alejandro Escovedo – Real Animal (Back Porch)

It is said that the unexamined life isn’t worth living. Alejandro Escovedo clearly takes that to heart. Over the course of a long career in music, the artist time and again has looked back on his own life and mined it for some of the most poignant, gut-wrenching music being made. On Real Animal, he looks at the music itself, offering a concept album of sorts about his own career. From stints with early punks the Nuns to the cowpunk of Rank and File and the stolen promise of the True Believers, a band he led with his brother, Javier, he touches on all of his near-misses at fame. Produced by kindred spirit Chuck Prophet, the disc crackles with energy and shows that no matter how inspiring those past moments were, Escovedo is more than able to equal them today.

10. Baseball Project – Frozen Ropes and Dying Quails (Yep Roc)

Here’s the wildcard, a disc that shouldn’t work near as well as it does. A member of R.E.M. (Peter Buck) plays second fiddle to a couple of journeymen musicians known only to a hardcore few fans, performing songs written exclusively about the game of baseball? Well, thanks to the fanboy eye for detail employed by songwriters Steve Wynn and Scott McCaughey, it works. The lyrics read like an oddball history of the sweet science, but non-fans who enjoy a good rock ’n’ roll rave up will find must as much to like. This is gritty, catchy and fun, and, pardon the pun, that adds up to a home run any day.

11. Bon Iver – For Emma, Forever Ago (Jagjaguwar)

12. Bonnie “Prince” Billy – Lie Down In The Light (Drag City)

13. The Hold Steady – Stay Positive (Vagrant)

14. Sun Kil Moon – April (Caldo Verde)

15. The Broken West – Now or Heaven (Merge)

16. Damien Jurado – Caught in the Trees (Sub Pop)

17. R.E.M. – Accelerate (Warner Bros.)

18. TV on the Radio – Dear Science (Touch and Go)

19. Vampire Weekend – s/t (XL)

20. Coldplay - Viva La Vida (Capitol)

Labels: criticism, music

The 2009 class of inductees to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame were announced Wednesday, and other than offering the chance to put together that snazzy graphic it doesn't do much for me.

Maybe it's a symptom of living in the era in which these artists made their mark, but the whole thing has gotten rather ho hum. Do baseball fans feel anything when a great player is recognized after a career of exploits? Maybe the five-year gap between retirement and induction is a good idea. It's hard to appreciate the breakthrough that Metallica made 25 years ago when the band continues to churn out marginal music today.

Regardless, it's nice to see RUN-D.M.C. get its due. This truly groundbreaking act is deserving of the award, and I can already envision some sort of unholy matchup between Metallica and the hip hop act at the induction ceremony. Can one rap to "One"?

As for he rest, I'll admit I'm no judge of their merits. I've never understood Jeff Beck's appeal, though his lack of commercial success when compared to Eric Clapton et al might be more of a badge of honor than a slight. He's clearly talented, so bring him on. Bobby Womack? Can't honestly say I've ever knowingly heard one of his songs? Little Anthony? Again, in my ignorance I can't say they are better or worse than contemporaries, though I admire the fact that they're going strong, with original members intact, 50 years later.

Regardless of their merit, these acts obviously seemed like a lock back in September when they were announced. I was four for five in predictions, missing only on Womack, whose spot I predicted for the long-snubbed Stooges. With Ron Asheton now gone, I assume that will be rectified next year.

Other inductees include Wanda Jackson in the Early Influence category and Bill Black, DJ Fontana and Spooner Oldham in the Sidemen category, very worthy picks all.

Labels: music, Rock and Roll Hall of Fame

That image there is just wishful thinking, but I have a 1 in 597 shot of seeing something like it on bookshelves one day. I filed a proposal during the latest open call for 33 1/3 submissions from Continuum Books in December, punching up and significantly expanding my plan for a book about The Police's Synchronicity.

I felt good about the proposal last time out, but feel exponentially better about this one. Again, if chosen I plan to explore the animosity in the band as it reached its end, but I've come to realize that this is not only a tired angle, but one that misses the mark. Seeing the band on its reunion tour and hearing subsequent live recordings, I'm struck by how simpatico these three musicians are and how what each brings to the table meshes with that offered by the others to create something unreplicated in pop.

I'm glad my proposal improved, for the competition is even more fierce. Last time, there were 449 proposals for 380 different albums.This time? The just-published longlist includes 597 proposals for 490 albums! I'm happy to report mine is the only Police submission, so there's no competition there, but based on the fact that I'd love to read books about many of these proposed albums, I know decisions facing series editor David Barker are tough. As usual, the proposals range from the head-scratching (Dag Nasty?) to the obvious (Liz Phair, Radiohead, etc.). One surprise: seven proposals for Slint's Spiderland.

Barker says 20 to 25 books are likely to be contracted from this batch, so the odds are about as tough as getting into the University of Iowa Writer's Workshop down the road from me here.

Labels: 33 1/3, books, music

Today marks the 70th anniversary of the great Blue Note Records. The label was started by Alfred Lion, a German immigrant who recorded his first session just two weeks after the Dec. 23, 1938, Spirituals to Swing concert at Carnegie Hall featuring pianists Albert Ammons and Meade Lux Lewis. The two cut 18 tracks, issued as The First Day.

According to the history of the label find on its web site, the first brochure for the label included a statement of purpose:"Blue Note Records are designed simply to serve the uncompromising expressions of hot jazz or swing, in general. Any particular style of playing which represents an authentic way of musical feeling is genuine expression. By virtue of its significance in place, time and circumstance, it possesses its own tradition, artistic standards and audience that keeps it alive. Hot jazz, therefore, is expression and communication, a musical and social manifestation, and Blue Note records are concerned with identifying its impulse, not its sensational and commercial adornments.”

The best the label has had to offer in the 70 years since has lived up to that creed. Plenty of questionable sides have been issued with the Blue Note logo on back, but the label's hits far outnumber any missteps, and its classic period in the '50s and '60s is peerless in recorded music.

The label is perhaps best known among non- or casual jazz fans for its distinctive album covers. But to those who love jazz, the name in synonymous with great hard bop. Pick up a Blue Note disc from Lee Morgan or Art Blakey or Hank Mobley or Horace Silver or Lou Donaldson or... well, you get the idea. Do so, and you'll find a great batch of deep grooves and soulful playing.

The label will celebrate with a tour by the Blue Note 7, a group of younger stars who will perform classic Blue Note sides. The group includes pianist and musical director Bill Charlap, trumpeter Nicholas Payton, alto saxophonist Steve Wilson, tenor saxophonist Ravi Coltrane, guitarist Peter Bernstein, bassist Peter Washington and drummer Lewis Nash. The tour runs now through April 19. A disc from the group, Mosaic: A Celebration of Blue Note Records, is due Jan. 13.

In addition, author Ashley Kahn, who has penned interesting books about Miles Davis' Kind of Blue, John Coltrane's A Love Supreme and Impulse Records, is writing a book about Blue Note: Somethin’ Else: The Story of Blue Note Records and the Birth of Modern Jazz. The book is due in the fall. Blue note will issue a two-CD companion compilation at that time.

All in all, it's a good excuse to listen to some great jazz. Happy anniversary.

Labels: jazz, music

While I love the fact that Crowded House reformed and enjoyed the debut of CH 2.0 quite a bit, I'm glad to see that Neil Finn will continue exploring things outside the sphere of the band. He only managed two albums in the decade the band was away, but they're full of great songs, so knowing that he'll still touch on that material and pursue his own music apart from the band is good news.

Even better news: Finn has gathered a passel of friends for another Seven Worlds Collide album. The first, issued in 2002, found his touring band augmented by the likes of Johnny Marr, Eddie Vedder and Radiohead's Ed O'Brien and Phil Selway, performing Crowded House, Split Enz, Finn solo and cover songs. The set was issued on CD and DVD, and capped a flurry of activity that began with the dissolution Crowded House.

Since, Finn recorded just one other solo album, One Nil (One All stateside) before reuniting Crowded House. Now that the band's tour for that reunion album, Time on Earth, is over (and before touring for the imminent follow up can commence), Finn will revisit the Seven Worlds Collide idea. Back are the Radiohead boys, Marr and Finn's onetime bandmates Lisa Germano and Sebastian Steinberg. They'll be joined by most of Wilco -- Jeff Tweedy, John Stirratt, Glenn Kotche and Pat Sansone -- KT Tunstall, Don McGlashan, Bic Runga and Finn's son, Liam.

While the first version was the document of a live show, apparently this one will be a studio project, recorded at his own Roundhead Studios in Auckland, New Zealand. For those in New Zealand, however, there is good news: Three shows that his web site calls "a series of intimate and informal live performances at a nearby club venue." These will be held Jan. 5-7.

For the rest of us, we must wait for the yet-to-be-determined release date for the album.

Labels: Crowded House, music

I caught a fantastic show last night in Iowa City, finally getting the chance to see the Brad Mehldau Trio in person. I've been a fan for years, and so it was nice to experience them live.

This was a make-up gig from 2005 when Mehldau was snowed in and couldn't reach Iowa City for a show. This time, he almost was forced to postpone again, but the problem was on our end: the University of Iowa's Hancher Auditorium was severely damaged during massive flooding we experienced here in June. The facility won't open until 2010, but in the meantime many of this season's shows were rescheduled for area venues (new season tagline: "Can't Contain Us.") This show was at the City High School auditorium, and it's a safe guess that no matter how talented the school's many alums may have been, this was the best thing to ever grace that stage.

I wrote a review for CorridorBuzz.com where those interested can find out all of the details. Suffice to say it was the best jazz I've seen this year, and that's saying something given the caliber of talent at this year's Iowa City Jazz Festival.

Labels: concert, jazz, music

I don't remember when I first picked up a copy of Chunklet. It was definitely several years ago, probably around the time of the first "Overrated" issue. I was amazed; here was a zine that didn't fawn over favorite acts, but rather slagged off those it hated (and event slung a few arrows at ones it liked). There was precedent for this, of course, in early mags like Answer Me! and Motorbooty. But no one had done this so long, or so professionally.

Henry O. Owings (H20, for short) is the man behind Chunklet. What started as a small zine has 15 years later become a tidy little multi-media empire. He puts out the magazine (no. 20 just out), has published two books, released CDs and vinyl and promotes shows. It's all built, it seems on promoting things Owings likes. That means CDs from bands like Harvey Milk, comedy albums from Patton Oswalt and books about things wrong with the state of rock 'n' roll.

Owings latest endeavor is his second book, The Rock Bible (from the great Quirk Books imprint). Promising "Unholy Scriptures for Fans & Bands," it gathers wisdom from scads of Chunklet writers, offering an indispensable guide for the budding rock star. Follow these tenants and you might just avoid pissing off Owings and his crew. Then again, what's the fun in that?

TIRBD: 15 years later, Chunklet has become quite the media empire, with books, music releases, concert promotion and 20 issues of the magazine. How does that jibe with the way you envisioned things progressing when you started?

HO: I had no idea what I wanted to do when I started. Seriously. I got out of school in '91, the middle of the last (great) recession and couldn't find a job. I just thought, "Shit, if I'm unemployed, I might as well be happy." I moved to Athens and just got interested in things that interested me. That's it. So all of it just comes from that point. The book spawned from the magazine. Graphic design spawns from the mag. Ditto concert promotion, records, etc., etc. There was certainly no long-term marketing plan that I drew up, but I'm genuinely excited about all the projects I've been able to get done in the last 15 years. No doubt about it.

Do all of these efforts pay the rent, or do you do other things to pay the bills, thus allowing time for things like this?

I do graphic design, album production, concert promotion and writing for a living. The mag has never been something I derive money from. It pays for itself, and that's it. I think it's great that it's a self-sustaining enterprise. In 2008, that's saying something.

Do you see the magazine as the main thrust of things, or has that become just one of the many things you do?

Seriously, I have no idea what my main thrust is. I just do what makes me happy.

Has your outlook as a magazine publisher and as a music fan changed over the past 15 years?

I think I'm more involved with and excited by music now than I was in 1993.

Is your excitement driven by your involvement (you know more therefore it's easier to be into it), or is there more to be excited about today?

Not to sound fatalistic, but I'd rather do everything that interests and excites me instead of leaving it to somebody else. Life is for the living and people that sit on the sidelines aren't rewarded. My goal was to get involved, and I am. Period.

It has been said that tough times yield the best art, because artists have something visceral against which to react. Are we in for some of the best art of our lifetimes?

It's easy to say that good art will come out of America's loins in the next few years, but that's not for me to say. All I know is that the last creative explosion was when Reagan and Bush left office in the late 80s and early 90's. Before that was after Nixon. So yeah, I think we can anticipate greatness spawning from some suburban garage in the not too distant future.

You've said that unlike people who launch anonymous tirades online, you have always been upfront, standing behind even your most caustic criticism. Has that had an impact on the relationships you have with artists? Do your musician friends live in fear of the day you'll turn your pen on them?

Nah, I'm not a chickenshit. Regrettably, I've lost a few friends, but none directly from something in the magazine. I've never held back though. I remember when people like Death Cab or The Shins started getting "big" and I pretty much told them I'd lay into them and they were totally excited about it. I don't know, getting knocked on in Chunklet is a badge of honor to many. To those who don't think it is, I just say "go get fucked."

The alternative (for lack of a better term) comedy artists you've championed for years are coming into the mainstream these days. What kind of world is it when H2O is a tastemaker?

Beats me. I still approach everything like I did when I was 15. But tastemaking? Give me a break. I just like that what I like. If others dig it, great. Otherwise, I'll be happy knowing I'm right and that's all.

Labels: books, magazines, Monday Interview, music

Every time I let the Silos fall of my radar, I regret it. I've been a fan for decades, having picked up the band's sophomore outing, Cuba, after reading a few rave reviews. I went back and got the debut, About Her Steps, and leader Walter Salas-Humara's solo debut, Lagartija, shortly thereafter. The band's self-titled major label debut and swan song followed. Then, my interest led me elsewhere for a time.

Three albums were released that I didn't get, and then I picked up The Laser Beam Next Door and was again knocked back. This was a leaner, meaner Silos, and it led me to fill in the gaps in my collection, wondering why I had let things slide in the first place. I bought but didn't fully absorb the next two Silos discs and kind of forgot about Salas-Humara and the band for a while. When the band's longtime bass player, Drew Glackin, died from complications of an overactive thyroid in January, I feared that might be all we'd hear from Salas-Humara and his band.

Then came word a few months back of an interesting collaboration between Salas-Humara and author Jonathan Lethem. As a big fan of both, I was intrigued. The result was an album by the band I'm Not Jim, You Are All My People. It sounds like the Silos only in that Salas-Humara's voice by now is an instant signifier. But the lyrics are Lethem's, and they're as offbeat, strange and detailed as fans of his books (Motherless Brooklyn, the Fortress of Solitude) would expect.

Musically and sonically, things are different thanks to the Elegant Too, the production team of Chris Maxwell and Phil Hernandez, who completely reworked Salas-Humara's basic tracks to create something new and unique.

Now, the best possible news for fans of Salas-Humara and the Silos: He sees a future for I'm Not Jim and also is working on a new Silos record. Rather than lose him, we get him twofold.

TIRBD: Were the songs you wrote for this project musically different than your past work? Did you approach the songwriting differently from your own where you write most of the lyrics as well?

WSH: Definitely. Mainly because we collaborated on everything. We would speak about a subject that we were trying to write about. He would start cranking out words. And we’d talk about them and I’d make a suggestion. Then we’d talk about what the music should sound like, and he would make suggestions. Of course, he doesn’t play an instrument, and he’s a far more talented writer than I am. I was trying to do something different, far less sort of rock than the Silos.

It was such an incredible experience. I’ve never written with someone so facile, so quick on his feet. How quick he can crank out articulate lyrics, with internal rhymes and rhythms. I’ve gotta work so hard to do that. What takes me five hours he can do in five minutes.

We wanted it to be a different voice than the Silos. We didn’t want it compared to the Silos. In terms of the production, I didn’t want to be involved at all.

What did the songs sound like before they were given to the Elegant Too? Like Silos demos? Did you write and record knowing they would become involved or did that come later?

I recorded the songs just with the simple guitar and a drum loop for the tempo. And spoke the spoken word stuff. Then I gave it to Chris and Phil and they basically just used the vocals. Sometimes they used the same chords I played. Other times they substituted other chords and beats. It sounds very different. We were really excited. I love their work anyway. They did a remix of an old Silos tune from an album we did called Heater, where we did a remix album called Cooler.

What role has Lethem filled live, and what role might he fill in the future?

He’s been doing the spoken word stuff. Initially we weren’t sure how it was going to come out, or if there was going to be a tour and if there was a tour that he wouldn’t be able to be a part of it (which was why Salas-Humara did the spoken word bits on the album). It’s turned into more of a band thing, so he did the spoken word. I kind of wish he’d done the spoken word stuff on the album. Now that we’re a band, I don’t see me doing it without everyone else.

If you do the project again, would you do it the same way or change anything about it?

We’re hoping to involve more people in the collective, have a collective approach. We’ll hopefully find a theater director to make it more of a theatrical production. We’ve already started working on it. We’ve really only finished one track. That was something… it relates (to You Are All My People). What we’re thinking is doing much longer pieces that come back to some kind of thematic, that circle around to a thematic concept. I’m imagining some kind of circular thing, Velvet Underground meets Phillip Glass.

The one song we created so far, we did it in the same manner. But the plan is to have Chris and Phil more involved, as well as Mike Duclos, the bass player in the live band.

In doing this, you obviously put your energies toward something other than a Silos record for the first time in a long time. How did that change your day-to-day existence, if at all?

We’re right in the middle of making a new Silos record. We’re playing CMJ. Since Drew died, it’s been a little of a rethinking the whole thing. And so, it’s no longer a trio type project. It’s a much bigger group now. A couple other guitar players and a keyboard player. Some of the live shows have more people. Don’t want it compared to what we accomplished with those records that Drew, Konrad and I did.

The I’m Not Jim thing was so incredibly liberating for me to be able to step back. Normally I’m so involved in the Silos records. But I’m letting Rod and Konrad do things on this one.

Given this collaboration, do you think the next Silos record will be different, either because of a new way of working or because working with Lethem’s lyrics might give you a different perspective on your own?

That’s been something I’ve been doing a lot more of, writing with more people. Might be only one or two songs that are wholly mine on the new album, with four or five other writers on it. I do it more out of the social fun thing for me. Songwriting can be a very solitary process. You can play it for other people, but ultimately it’s your thing, you have to make all of the decisions. When you write with other people you’ve got an instant backboard there. It’s just more fun. The strength of two minds. Different people have different strengths.

You brought Lethem over to the world of music for this project; will his influence draw you into his world at some point to write fiction?

I’ve done some screenplay writing. I was asked to do a poetry book by the Zoo Press, and I submitted a bunch of stuff... and I don’t know what happened with them. Still, that was a pretty great experience. I think that’s the dream of every writer. When I started writing songs in my teens and 20s, I thought, “I’ll do this in my 20s and then in my 30s do some screenplays, and then in my 40s I’ll maybe have the patience and ability to write a novel." But you get so wrapped up in a career and it just takes off on you.

It has now been more than 20 years since Rolling Stone declared the Silos the Best New American Band. How has your career unfolded over that time compared to how you might have envisioned it at the time?

Honestly, I can say there’s really no way to change anything. Honestly I feel very lucky that all those years I was able to make a living doing the thing that I really enjoy doing. Very few people can really say that. Obviously I’m not a celebrity or anything like that, but I’ve been able to keep it going. I’ve never had to make any compromises. When you get to the point that you’re a pop celebrity and you have a lot of people on the payroll, I’ve never had to do that. I would never change that. Really, back when that Rolling Stone thing happened no one had heard of us, so nothing has really changed.

Sticking to your artistic predilections over the course of your career continually leads to new and interesting opportunities on so many different levels.

Labels: books, Monday Interview, music

Margot and the Nuclear So and So's were right to fight their record label for the right to release its new album, Animal, the way it was intended. I doubted that before Tuesday night, but hearing the songs performed live, in the order on which they appear on the album, I was struck by how solid, how good that batch of songs is. They work well together, and, in contrast to so many other albums, they get better and they progress.

If you're not a fan of the band -- and if that's the case, then you have some work to do -- then you've probably only heard about it in relation to the record label controversy. The band signed to Epic after it's debut, The Dust of Retreat, deservedly won several accolades. The band delivered Animal, and the label balked. It liked some of the songs, but not all, and proposed it's own track listing. There was overlap of five tracks, but seven of the tracks on the label's version are what band leader Richard Edwards has referred to as "B sides." Some of the tracks on the label's version are good, but in this case, I trust the vision of the artist.

“It was a bummer. Nobody likes there not being enthusiasm for their record. But I’m OK with the compromise. There are good and bad things about it,” Edwards told me in an interview for CorridorBuzz.com. The compromise? The label released the band's version on vinyl as Animal and it's own as a CD, Not Animal. Strange, especially given the fact that true fans are the only ones likely to buy both and therefore are the ones who don't need two versions of five songs.

Edwards said the whole situation worked out well for the most part. The band recorded with producer Brian Deck, who he said it would have been difficult to land otherwise.

"I don't think we went into it thinking, "Why is this happening to us? I think we kinda got away with some shit. I'd rather our album come out on double vinyl anyway."

As for the songs the band didn't want on Animal, Edwards said they don't sound "crazy different. I think some of them are good songs, I just think Animal works. There is stuff on there that I think has a little more substance musically."

About those last two points, he is absolutely right. The band played the entire album at its concert at Old Brick in Iowa City on Tuesday, and it was a transcendent performance. The group, which swelled from its usual eight members to 10 for the show, wedged itself onto the small stage and ran through the album. Edwards noted that the album was released that day, and later apologized for playing "a bunch of songs that nobody knows," rationalizing that "we have to get good at playing them."

He needn't have apologized. The band, while a bit ragged in spots, filled the room with wonderful sound. Nothing seemed extraneous. With three string players, two guitars, bass, keyboards, brass, drums and percussion, everything seemed organic to the songs. There were as many as four people singing at any one time, adding rich harmonies to Edward's delicate, soaring melodies.

It was a chore coaxing much of an interview out of Edwards on the phone, like badgering a tired teenager for details about his late night just after waking him much too early the next morning. But in concert, where it matters, he was intense. He moved little, but poured his energy into his vocals.

Live, Animal is considerably more powerful than on record. Having listened to the album a handful of times before the show, I liked the songs but found I had trouble grasping the disc as a whole. The songs were strong in performance, the hooks magnified, the dynamics more, well, dynamic. Listening to those same songs on the drive home, they sounded somewhat tinny in comparison. That's typical, but it made me wish greater pains had been taken to fully capture the sonic presence of this large ensemble on record. That said, it's still a very, very good album from a very good band with considerable promise.

Labels: music

1. At times his concert tonight for the University of Iowa homecoming felt like watching an animatronic Chuck Berry with a short in it, like some sort of Chuck E. Cheese rock 'n'' roll fun time exhibit. Chuck moved and sounded like himself for the most part, but seemed to run into a glitch every once in a while where a lyric would be forgotten or a guitar line muffed. You cut an 82 year old some slack when it comes to the dexterity required to play guitar, but shouldn't recall of the lyrics to "Memphis" and "School Days" be just muscle memory by now?

2. To Berry's credit, he hides behind nothing. His band was top notch, which made his own ragged playing stick out all the more. Yet he could easily employ a second guitarist and let his own playing blend in. Instead, he stands front and center, his guitar turned so loud that a tap on the neck coaxed a growl from the amp. His performance was out there, warts and all.

3. It's disingenuous to purport that there would be no Beatles or Rolling Stones or et al without Berry; someone would have figured out how to make raw, 4/4 blues accessible to white teens. But he did it first, and thus, you could say that everyone from Keith Richards to Jack White would probably sound somewhat different had Berry not come along. Hearing him perform is like hearing a template for much of what followed over the next half century.

4. Despite all of the changes in the world since Berry recorded many of these songs 50 years ago, they still resonate. Kids whose parents were too young to have experienced any of these songs firsthand were dancing and singing along. It's hard to imagine a direct line between Berry and, say, Lil' Wayne, but these kids have found it, and don't mind traveling in either direction, despite the evidence to the contrary from mainstream radio.

5. A nation of kids that grew up with seemingly no taboos or boundaries can still be shocked by the sight of an 82-year-old man singing about wanting girls to play with his ding-a-ling or wanting to be rocked so hard that his "back ain't got no bone." The hoots and catcalls were genuine; Berry's not-so-thinly-veiled euphemisms put to shame the so-called bravado of the hip hop set.

6. Seeing an 82-year-old man in a sailor cap waving a purple bra like a signal flag is always going to be amusing.

7. When talking with students about reviewing, I suggest that they determine what an artist set out to do, then judge the performance based on how close they came. In this case, you can look at it two ways. Was Berry attempting to recreate the fire and incongruous precise abandon of his prime? If so, then he didn't come very close. Was he trying to give the crowd a good time by playing some classics and giving them the chance to see a living legend in the process? Then he succeeded.

Labels: music

Wow, just when you thought it couldn't get any worse... OK, actually, the nominees for the 2009 class at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame aren't bad -- most are certainly worthy -- but it's just so uninspiring and is going to make for a pretty boring ceremony. And they are: Jeff Beck, Chic, Wanda Jackson, Little Anthony and the Imperials, Metallica, Run-DMC, the Stooges, War and Bobby Womack.

We're fully in the era of huge rock bands, but because the hall is continually making up for poor past decisions, much of the slate is given over to correcting slights from the past rather than moving forward to recognize worthy acts that are freshly eligible.

To qualify for the hall, an act must have put out its first release 25 years ago. That means, gulp, 1984. Only Run-DMC and Metallica are fresh qualifiers. Everyone else has been eligible for years; some, like the Stooges, have been passed over before.

There are plenty of lists out there of eligible acts that have never been nominated, some more worthy than others (Rush? Really?). But who is really out there who was snubbed? The Smiths are eligible this year, but they'll never make it. The Bangles? Please. Bon Jovi? Perhaps someday. Dwight Yoakam? In a perfect world. Los Lobos? Again, ideally yes, but not likely.

The problem is that people who criticize these annual nominee lists, myself included, tend to forget that it has little to do with artistic merit. Being groundbreaking and respected is a big key, and commercial success is another. Run-DMC and Metallica are easy choices because they meet both criteria. The Smiths and Los Lobos are certainly the former, but experienced too little of the latter to ever gain serious consideration. For sheer influence, bands like Minor Threat and the Replacements ought to be there, but neither was popular enough to merit more than a footnote in a punk rock exhibit in the outer reaches of the hall.

So, predictions? Metallica, Run-DMC, Jeff Beck, Little Anthony and, because they charmed the pants off the crowd at last year's ceremony with their run through a couple of Madonna tunes, the Stooges.

Labels: music, Rock and Roll Hall of Fame

Just last night while unpacking some boxes after a recent move, I came across an old issue of Robert Griffin's late lamented Seven magazine, a 'zine dedicated to the 7" single. The issue, dating from spring 1991, includes scads of single reviews, some fiction, art and a double 7" single from Puff Tube. In it, I read comments from Griffin about the 7" single that sound much like what he shares below. They're too pricey, for example. But he's off base in one regard: "Sadly, it's already a given that it's larger counterpart is dead in the water," he writes in the opening.

In fact, while most people buy CDs or download (legally or not) their music these days, the vinyl album has experienced a renaissance of sorts. Even major labels are getting into the act again, such as Warner Brothers' Because Sound Matters online store (never mind the inherent slap at the sound quality of its two main formats). One of the most elaborate vinyl albums to come out of late is from Griffin's own band, Prisonshake, on his Scat label. As someone who doesn't listen to much vinyl any more, I opted for the CD release (itself a cut or two above the norm in terms of packaging), and have been listening to Dirty Moons steadily since.

It's Prisonshake's first album since 1993's The Roaring Third, and, despite the band's 20-year existence, only its second album proper. Of course, one could count the boxed set I'm Really Fucked Now as an album, too, or perhaps three: it included a vinyl album, a cassette, a CD and a 7" single, with no overlap in songs. All this in 1990. I was among the lucky few to snag this gem, lured by nothing more than the chutzpah of a band willing to package its music in such a customer-unfriendly way. I was rewarded with some surprisingly catchy dirty blues, as if the Rolling Stones had been birthed during the post-punk era rather than the early 1960s.

In the meantime, Griffin's Scat label issued albums from several other bands, perhaps none more important than Guided by Voices Vampire on Titus and Bee Thousand. He also relocated from Cleveland to St. Louis. But now, resuming up a career that seems the inverse of GBV's Robert Pollard in terms of prolificacy, Griffin and Co. have picked right up with Dirty Moons from where they left off. While it is perhaps even more raw and experimental than The Roaring Third -- helped in part by the fact that it's doubled length offers plenty of room to stretch out and explore -- it sounds like Prisonshake. The disc finds guitarist Griffin and singer Doug Enkler joined by two new members (if a 12-year term can be considered "new") in bassist Steve Scariano and drummer Patrick Hawley.

TIRBD: Why 12 years to get this done and out?

RG: Long story short, a combination of depression, getting lost in details, sometimes being broke, sometimes just not wanting to, sometimes we weren't speaking, it'd be a different reason at any given time. But ultimately, we set the bar very high and did not want to contribute yet another average record to the beyond-glutted pool of music out there. I also needed to have certain musical experiences before what I imagined could become real. And plenty of time to do it in.

Will any of the music you recorded in the interim that didn't make Dirty Moons ever see the light of day?

Given the funds and inclination, maybe. Or we might prefer to record new material since there is effort and time involved in finishing up yet more old business. There is only one song that is in a completed, ready-to-release state, a few others I have acceptable rough mixes of – but most of the best outtakes lack vocals and the additional guitar and percussion parts that were envisioned for the songs. There's maybe an album's worth that could be put together, and half of it would be alternate – very alternate – versions of songs that did make the cut. The several other hours are pretty much embryonic or clearly inferior takes. Honestly the only scenario I see this happening under is if Dirty Moons is a much more successful album than I expect it to be, or very far in the future.

You were a vocal proponent of the 7" single, but haven't issued more than one featuring your own music that I'm aware of in the past decade. Have you fallen out of love with the format?

There were four between '95 and '98, but all on other labels. Mostly it was economic – they were getting more and more expensive to make and fewer people were buying them. At some point the price point bugs me both as a consumer and as an artist – the point of the 45 is cheap thrills, impulse spending. When they're $5-$7 a throw it makes less sense to me. The rest of the band was pretty indifferent to whether we released any. But true enough, my imagination was more focused on the full-length format, that was a factor too.

What role does packaging play for you? The Dirty Moons CD sleeve feels like an old vinyl double album gatefold, for example, which gives the listener some idea of your intent before you even pop the disc in the player.

That's certainly my intention, I'm glad it works. I see the double album as a very distinct format – the truism, "it'd be a better single album," applied to all the greats even, misses the point. A double album is supposed to be more than just catchy songs; it gives you the room to make more expansive worlds. The double album should not merely be a great quantity of songs, but a tapestry. The way many people interact with music now is pretty much alien to this concept. Not that one has to listen to the whole thing at once - I wouldn't. I encourage people to just listen to one random side at a go, or even just that side for a week or two – then wander. It's a party, there are many rooms, and you won't notice everything the first time you walk through. Many albums aim to give the listener a dozen steaks or pies or whatever, it's good to have some garnishes on the plate, an interesting sauce, a nice bourbon...

It's not that Dirty Moons is a hard record to "get;" it's not, it's rock and fucking roll, our kind, but there's depth that should naturally reveal itself over time. Ultimately we aim to give good value for money, to make an album that doesn't easily go stale and will seem different at different times.

The art is important to me of course, but I find it more difficult to come up with art for my own band - I guess because I'm more about hearing than seeing us and I have to turn on another part of my brain to translate. The LP edition has an 8 page lyric/photo book that has some material not in the CD. The label designs and alternate titles are pretty wack, too.

There is a wealth of Prisonshake material that isn't easy to come by or listen to these days, thanks to the various formats (particularly the non-CD stuff in I'm Really Fucked Now). Do you envision a boxed set some day that gathers all of that material on CD, or digital release?

That's definitely been on my mind, but I'm not sure how it will all play out yet, I'm still trying to get everything properly digitized. But I do have some obligations on that end to our Australian label, most likely a best of the original lineup '87-'92. I'll probably release that here too, at least digitally. A boxed set would be fabulous, but I hesitate to make predictions. Regardless, everything will eventually be available again, even if just digitally.

What has it been like to get out and play live again? Have things changed in the touring world since you last were out? Do you still get the same charge from performing?

We truly enjoy each others' company and we fix it all up to be relatively painless. We played at SXSW in 2007 and that was good all around, before that in 2005 in St. Louis, then you'd have to go back to 2000 – there were probably seven or eight shows between '95 and 2000. I don't expect it to be any different than the last few, and they were a blast. Performing is not an important element for me obviously, but once I'm on stage I usually get lost in the music immediately, charmed by my own spell.

When the last Prisonshake disc was released, the Internet was still fairly new, and you probably did as much business through magazine and zine ads and mail order as you did in stores. How have things changed?

The percentage of mailorder vs. wholesale is really about the same now, but the Internet has made mailorder infinitely easier. Prisonshake in particular were fortunate as we were kind of a record store band in some parts – it was definitely the advocacy and enthusiasm of individuals who worked retail that drove a good bit of our sales before The Roaring Third. The packaging and wacky formats probably helped a bit, too.

I think the biggest change is that there are many fewer people interested in rock that isn't so strictly genre-based, not that that was ever a very large pool.

Scat is probably best known as the home to Guided by Voices' breakout releases. How has that helped and hurt? You have name recognition, but perhaps people expect something from the label that much of the rest of the roster, Prisonshake in particular, doesn't deliver.

Well, different audiences perceive the label in different ways, but I guess GBV had a big audience so that is a common impression. Others associate the label more with Cleveland and some of the reissue projects, or whatever particular bands they're into. The Speaking Canaries may not be household names, but those who like them are pretty rabid, and that's true of many of the bands I've put out. I've always avoided one-dimensionality, though I know that can be helpful commercially. The common thread is that all these artists, whether Damon Che, Bob Pollard, Franklin Bruno, John Petkovic or others is that they each have vision and a natural, idiosyncratic talent of some sort that manifests itself in a rock context. Even Brian DiPlacido (A Bullet for Fidel) – I can't believe I still sell copies of his album Cold Before Morning, it might even turn a profit in a couple more years. Though Brian dropped out of music in '95, that was an iconic and brilliant enough album that it still gets spread around word-of-mouth. I'm really proud of that one, I'd love to send Brian a royalty check someday.

When I'm thinking about whether to release something or not, the most important question is whether people will still want to hear it in 10, 20, 30 years. I'm not always right about how many people will be interested, or when they'll be interested, but you could find a small group of fanatics for just about any artist I've released. But given the eclectic nature of the label, those groups of people don't often check out what else is on offer. On the other hand, there are some brave, dedicated souls who buy everything, some of whom I've been shipping packages to since the label started. I imagine their record collections look a whole lot like mine.

Scat was identified with the Cleveland scene; is that still the case now that you're in St. Louis? Have you found much to like in your new hometown?

As an old friend of mine used to say, "You can take the boy out of Cleveland, but you can't take the Cleveland out of the boy." As far as what people identify Scat with, it depends which releases they own I suppose, I couldn't really say. I think there will always be a Cleveland taint on the label, I like that, and hope to continue that association with future releases.

There's lots to like about Saint Louis, although when I moved here I didn't intend to stay, I might still leave someday, but have less wanderlust than in younger years. Saint Louis is soft, green, kind of provincial, often very hot (I like), sunny for much of the year, has lots of unique charms and history. The pace is a little easier, but maybe that's just me.

MP3: Crush Me

Labels: Monday Interview, music

Paul Westerberg has released yet another digital-only song, "Bored of Edukation." The cover art includes the line "The Best for Last," and there is some merit to the sentiment. If nothing else, it's the most hi-fi of the recent spate of releases, and one could argue that it's among the best of the bunch.

The song, released Monday, is nearly five minutes long, and save for a bit of oddness at the beginning, it's the most straightforward song from this online-only campaign.

It has been an odd little run for Westerberg. Just shy of two months ago, he issued 49:00, an album-length track that included mashed together songs, snippets and a few covers. That was pulled two weeks later, and another track, "5:05," was put up in its place. That track's length matched it's title, and when added to the 43:55 running time of 49:00, actually added up to 49 minutes.

That was followed by the release of 3oclockreep, a two-track EP of sorts that included a few new songs and some tracks from the Replacements' sessions with Tom Waits that yielded the B-side "Date for Church."

The result is about 30 new Westerberg songs, some covers and a few curiosities from the vault. Westerberg could conceivably keep doing this forever, and I saw why not. I'd pay 99 cents every month or so to hear what he's up to, and I'd guess there are plenty of others who would, too.

Labels: music, Paul Westerberg

A pretty amazing thing is taking place over at Pop Songs 07-08, Matthew Perpetua's catablog where he has written about every R.E.M. song save for those on Accelerate. Perpetua wrapped up his posts last week with a write up about "It's the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)," promising to tackle Accelerate in 2009 once he'd had a chance to more fully absorb those songs. Then, he suddenly returned with word that Michael Stipe was willing to answer questions about R.E.M. songs from Perpetua and his readers, with this caveat:

"Remember that I’m not the best at recalling studio memories, etcetera, and so the more interesting questions for me will be about intention and exact lyrics or my interpretation of what I meant, what I think I meant, whatever. Remember also that some songs have no real lyrics [chorus of orange crush comes to mind] and so I cannot answer those."

And he was off. So far he has answered dozens of questions in three long posts, answering questions about lyrical motivations, specific references, favorites and more. It's a fascinating look inside the mind of one of the most enigmatic songwriters of the past two-plus decades. He's obviously picking and choosing what he answers, but those he does respond to find him to be candid, self-effacing and charming. As someone who pays much more attention to music than lyrics, I find some of the close listening detail being cited by the fans to be extraordinary, and Stipe affirms or refutes these interpretations as needed. Often, he debunks complicated theories, but has occasionally confirmed long-held thoughts as being particularly astute.

It's nice to see Perpetua's blog take on this expanded role. As one of the first catablogs to complete his task (the writer behind the Pearl Jam blog, More Than Ten wrapped up months ago), he sets a good example for those of us still trudging on (I continue, at a slowed pace, to write about Robert Pollard's music at My Impression Now) who started these quests thanks to his inspiration.

Elsewhere, XFM has a five-part documentary on R.E.M. underway, with the first two parts viewable here. In the first installment, Stipe and Mike Mills talk politics, espousing their support for Barack Obama.

Labels: catablogs, music, R.E.M.

Bob Dylan has two poems in this week's issue of the New Yorker. The first, "17," is longer, with the closing line, "

I really have nothing
against
marlon brando.

The second, "21," is short, just 23 words over eight lines. Being here in the Midwest, we don't get our copy of the magazine until later in the week, so I'm left with the online version as a source. There is no supporting information I can find, but I assume these somewhat anachronistic verses are taken from Hollywood Foto-Rhetoric: The Lost Manuscript, the book coming in November that joins Hollywood photos of Barry Feinstein with 23 prose poems written by Dylan. Further evidence comes from the Brando reference, and the fact that "21" begins with the line "death silenced her pool," and the description of the book from Simon & Schuster mentions a photo of "Marilyn Monroe's swimming pool on the day she died."

Feinstein has taken several iconic photos of Dylan, having chronicled his 1966 and 1974 tours, but the subject of this book is other people, with Dylan providing the commentary rather than the object being studied.

These poems divorced as they are from the photos (online, anyway), lack the context that gives them their narrative pop, but they certainly feel of a piece with Dylan's mid-60s writings.

Labels: Bob Dylan, books, music, poetry

I saw three bands last night whose appeal ran counter to their spot on the bill. The night opened (for me, anyway), with the Broken West, a California band whose sophomore disc, Now or Heaven, is an outstanding creative leap. While I do miss some of the raucous power pop of the band's debut, I Can't Go On, I'll Go On, that's more than made up for by the sophistication on display on the new one.

Live, the band found a more fitting middle ground, adding a bit of rock muscle to the newer, more atmospheric tunes, offering listeners a bridge between old and new. The set was an even split between the two albums, with the new material easily holding its own against the older, more familiar material. "House of Lies" was the standout among the new tracks, taking on a swagger not present on the more mannered studio version. Meanwhile, older favorites like "On the Bubble," "So it Goes" and "Down in the Valley" were welcome additions, the last of those providing a manic penultimate tune for the set, followed by a very effective "Brass Ring," also from the debut, that was only slightly less energetic than its precursor.

If you have the chance to see this band in a club now, take advantage. I predict bigger stages for these guys in the near future.

Following the Broken West was Centro-Matic, a band that seemed to take a while to get into its set, but which delivered a nice, consistent set once it did. The charisma factor dropped considerably between the two bands, as C-M leader Will Johnson stood at the side of the stage and didn't seem to engage the crowd much. Musically, however, the band was solid. I've always admired the band (and alter-ego South San Gabriel), but find their output daunting and haven't done more than dabble (I can only follow a handful of uber-prolific artists, and those slots are taken by Robert Pollard and Will Oldham at the moment).

Headliner Langhorne Slim was a disappointment. After two hours of superior songcraft, his wordy, rockabilly schtick was tiresome. He was full of energy, but so many have done this so much better that I can only chalk up his accolades to long-term memory loss among listeners and/or the constantly renewing crop of fans who ensure that the fact that there is nothing new under the sun isn't really an impediment. Granted, I took in only two songs before heading home for bed, but it just wasn't doing it for me. I'd vote to give that extra stage time to the Broken West every time.

Labels: concert, music

Fans of Matthew Ryan can hear a new track from the acclaimed singer-songwriter Sept. 15 on the new episode of the show "One Tree Hill." Or, for those of us for whom television is a luxury (a luxury we wouldn't squander on the CW when there is "Mad Men" to be watched), the tune can be had on iTunes. "

Some Streets Lead Nowhere" is a return to the dark, quietly atmospheric music Ryan has made as a solo artist over the past several years. His most recent release, Matthew Ryan Vs. the Silver State, found him playing with a rock band again, and the results were bracing. As good as that disc is (it's assured a spot in the top 10 of the TIRBD best CDs of the year list coming in December), it's nice to hear him continue to find plenty of inspiration in his old haunts, literally and figuratively.

The song, with acoustic guitar and strings dominating the soundtrack, plays for a minute and a half before Ryan begins to sing. Lyrically, it's as damaged and despondent as ever:

I can't tell where I've been now,
darling There are hawks inside my head
And every smile in every good thing
Are picked at until they are dead.

He does pull off a fairly randy couplet, for him anyway, singing about "That old street to the new house, those beautiful hills inside your blouse." But there is little comic relief here, which is fitting. Ryan delivers what one imagines to be a perfect soundtrack for a teen drama.

Those who tune in will hear more than that song. The show's creator has asked a handful of performers to actually score episodes in this sixth season of the series. Ryan's work scores the third episode. He's a favorite of the show, which has featured six of Ryan's songs over it's run.

Grace Potter is slated to score a future episode, and creator Mark Schwahn says he is in talks with Ryan Adams to do so as well.

See Ryan and Schwahn talk about creating the soundtrack here. Ryan writes about the experience here.

Labels: music, TV

The ever-prolific Robert Pollard has much more up his sleeve over the next few months. In addition to the Boston Spaceships disc, Brown Submarine, that's right around the corner and the latest Circus Devils' disc, Ataxia, due soon, he has several more projects in the pipeline.

According to Rich T. at Rockathon, those who buy merch on the Boston Spaceships tour will get a download card that allows them access to tracks old and new, including songs from a Circus Devils' album called Gringo, scheduled for October 2009 release; a Pollard solo album, The Crawling Distance, due Jan. 20; and a track from the sophomore outing from Boston Spaceshpis, The Planets are Blasted, due Feb. 17.

Of course, all of this is subject to change... in fact, I'd bet on it. But it sounds like 2009 is shaping up to be just as prolific as, well, as 2008 and every other year for the past decade or more before it. This year alone he issued five LPs and at least as many EPs, as well as another issue of EAT and his coffee-table book, Town of Mirrors.

Labels: music, Robert Pollard

Depending on what you're doing at the time, you could listen to Peter Bradley Adams' sophomore disc, Leavetaking, several times without taking much in. That is, if what you are doing is anything other that listening -- be it working, reading, driving, etc. -- the dulcet tones may well wash over you without leaving a mark.

But pay attention, and you'll be rewarded. Adams, one half of the late country-rock duo eastmountainsouth, has crafted a quiet gem of a record with Leavetaking. It's just this side of too smooth, too quiet, too sensitive. Again, close listening rewards. There is a sharp bite to some of the lyrics, and what comes across as smooth when piped over the coffeehouse speakers is really just stripped down and atmospheric.

Adams earned a few more listens here when I read about the title of his album, which comes from a line in the poem "The View" by Mark Strand: "He's always been drawn to the weather of leavetaking." According to Adams, "The word leavetaking resonates with me on many levels. It's a theme you hear in so many traditional songs... some of them traveling songs, or gospel songs, or love songs... they've got that old longing in them that I'm really drawn to." Strand is a masterful poet, and anyone who reads him and takes inspiration is worth a moment.

The Alabama native and Nashville resident has a smooth, slightly smoky voice that suits his songs well. He also knows the value of harmony vocals, carrying over the male-female counterpoint that drove the music of eastmountainsouth to this album.

The disc is short, but Adams said that is because these nine songs are the only ones that felt as if they fit. "I decided this was just going to have to be a short record and not apologize for it." He shouldn't. In an era of bloat, this album, which clocks in at just over half an hour, feels organic and right. And at this length, if you're mind wandered and you let it slip into the background, you can always hit play again and vow to pay attention the next time.

Labels: music, TuesdayTuneup

Having just gone through a move, I haven't had the chance to write here much or watch or listen to much. The result is that I have been stewing over things long since digested, drawing parallels and such. The most persistent of these is "I'm Not There," Todd Haynes' anti-biopic about Bob Dylan.

I wrote fairly recently about the film, lauding the way it captures the singer's protean nature. I've since gone back to watch Martin Scorsese's "No Direction Home," the three-hour-plus documentary assemblage that seeks to present Dylan roughly from his arrival in New York until his motorcycle crash just a few years later. Having not seen "No Direction Home" very recently when I saw "I'm Not There," I didn't realize how many of Haynes' scenes are direct recreations of documentary footage used in Scorsese's film. This isn't exactly deep, but it's clear that Haynes film can be seen, from the title on down, as a direct refutation of the earlier film.

Sure, he portrays Dylan with a handful of disparate actors to drive the point home that no one trope can capture the artist. But by recreating scenes from Dylan's earliest days, he points up the theatricality of Dylan's performances during seemingly spontaneous events, and, in speaking for Dylan, says, "you may think you have me inside your little box constructed of film, quotes, photos and narrative, but I'm Not There." Not only is Haynes' deliberate as he points out that Dylan is too shape-shifting to accurately portray, but he also seems to comment directly on Scorsese's film by saying that no matter the source material, at best you are only highlighting a facet of your subject.

That makes Scorsese's film no less entertaining -- though his decision to stop long before some of the most fascinating aspects of Dylan's life and career (the accident and subsequent sabbatical, the Basement Tapes, his conversion, etc.) -- or illuminating for what it is, but it does call into question the notion that a film can adequately express a person's essence.

Taken together, the two films do as much to obscure as they do to illuminate.

Labels: Bob Dylan, movies, music

AC/DC has announced the title and tracklisting for it's forthcoming album. This wouldn't normally be news here at TIRBD, but in this case, I'll make a self-serving exception. Back in 2002, inspired by what I'm not sure, I wrote a little humor piece called "AC/DC: The Board Meeting." It envisioned AC/DC as a corporation where album and song titles were generated by a board comprised of band members. I found the juxtaposition funny, and so did the folks at McSweeney's who posted it here. Flash forward six years, and AC/DC has finalized its first album, Black Ice, since that piece was written. I'm somewhat saddened to say that I came up with a goose egg in terms of my title predictions, but seeing what they actually chose makes me realize I was closer than I'd comfortably expect. A little quiz - which is mine, and which is AC/DC's?

1. Rock 'n Roll Train
2. Put Your Glove on My Love
3. Wired for Rock
4. Smash 'n Grab

Wasn't easy, was it? The real titles were 1 and 4, mine were 2 and 3. I'd trade a songwriting credit for the rights to any of my titles should the members of AC/DC find themselves with cliche block in the future. It might be worth it to me. The band has an exclusive deal to sell its album through Wal-Mart stores, with the surprising blessing of its label, Columbia. The times they are a-changin'.

Labels: marketing, McSweeney's, music

That bastion of journalistic integrity, the New York Post, reports that "a spy" and "sources" confirm that Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band will perform during the halftime show of this season's Super Bowl on Feb. 1. If true, it's the NFL's latest attempt to draw eyeballs with a wholesome, all-American performer. Last year, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers played a solid, if surprisingly low-key set of songs.

A look at the history of the halftime show is interesting. For the first 30-plus years, it was like a variety show, with college marching bands, tributes to various people and movements, and family/kid-friendly fare. That changed in 1993, with a Michael Jackson performance at Super Bowl XXVII. Even then, the solo performer didn't take hold until after Janet Jackson's woes, which were part of the AOL TopSpeed Super Bowl XXXVIII Halftime Show (how soon we forget). U2's post-Sept. 11 tribute was the exception up to that point.

After Janet, classic rock was the go-to, controversy free choice. First came Paul McCartney's snoozefest, then the Rolling Stones and, a relatively risky choice given the context, Prince. Petty followed, and now we may well have the Boss. Hopefully his appearance is more in line with that of Prince, who gave a fiery performance, than like McCartney and Petty, who played safe, predictable sets.

Labels: Bruce Springsteen, music

Paul Westerberg continues to intrigue. He -- or more likely his distributors at Tunecore and Amazon -- pulled his just-released digital album 49:00 from sale. In its place comes "5:05," a new single. All of these numbers make some sense for those who have been paying attention. 49:00 was subtitled ...of your life (the word time was crossed out and life inserted), yet the album-long track clocked in at 43:55. It's clear that "5:05," which, when added to that previous track brings the total time to an even 49 minutes, is the missing link.

But it's not entirely clear after all. Why, for example, would the last song of an album-long track reference its length in the lyric, as this does? The only reason 5:05 has meaning is because fans know that's what was missing. If it was part of the rather seamless album itself, it wouldn't matter. There is speculation that 49:00 was pulled down because, toward the end, Westerberg offers a mish-mash of covers, all just a few seconds long, followed by a longer take on the Partridge Family's "I Think I Love You." Did Ruben Kinkade demand royalties?

One thought: The missing 5:05 was actually a different song for which Westerberg couldn't get clearance. So, he dropped it at the last minute, then changed his mind, pulled 49:00 and replaced it with a big old "f-you" to whoever raised a stink, recording that track so it exactly matched the length of the excised tune.

It's difficult to hear the lyrics on the new track, though there are plenty of lines that leak through the lo-fi production clear as day, such as "It ain't about the money" and "you wanna sue me, see right through me." Westerberg is obviously mad at someone, and those of us quick enough to download both tracks are the beneficiaries.

One last note. 49:00 was available for 49 cents; "5:05" can be had for 99 cents or $5.05 through Tunecore. You chose. Even at the higher price, you're getting nearly 50 minutes of new Westerberg for less than $6. Not a bad deal at all.

Labels: commerce, music, Paul Westerberg

There is a lot going on in the world of Robert Pollard these days, and I'll start with the most self-promoting news first. My other blog, My Impression Now: GBV Song-by-Song, has hit another milestone. I've posted my 200th song analysis, surely putting me in the upper reaches among catablogs in terms of output. Then again, I chose an artist who has recorded more songs than any other, so my eventual dominance in that category is built in. Last time I counted, Pollard had more than 1,200 songs on record, so I have a long way to go.

He adds to that total on a seemingly continual basis. It has been a while since he has done so behind the veil of secrecy, so it's nice to see him try some different things like his latest release, an EP by Carbon Whales. According to his web site, this is a Bob-sponsored release by "an obscure band from the late '70s that actor Paddy Considine turned Bob on to. The 4 songs on this EP are apparently the only things they ever recorded. It was never released. Bob really loved it so we tracked the band down and asked if we could release it. The singer sounds EXACTLY like Bob." Um, that's because it is. A few rumors are floating around about the backing band, but suffice to say, that's Pollard on vocals. It's a good EP full of straight-ahead rock like "The Jeep."

One new group whose membership is not open for debate is Boston Spaceships, whose debut LP, Brown Submarine, is due Sept. 9. The trio features Chris Slusarenko on bass and John Moen on drums. Slusarenko was the last GBV bassist and Pollard's partner in the Takeovers; Moen is the Decemberists drummer. The two MP3 available thus far -- "Winston's Atomic Bird" and "Go For the Exit" -- seem to support the self-proclamation that "Pollard is penning fantastic pop songs in a style no longer fashionable." It's just nice to see Pollard acknowledge that working with a band from time to time can be a nice change of pace from Todd Tobias' one-man-band act on Pollard's solo discs.

The next two Pollard releases are in book form. First up, vol. 5 of Eat, his annual-ish journal of art, band names, lyrics and poems. This time out, "the Dogshit Chronicles" offers 46 pages of Pollardiana, including stories new and old. It's as if you've grabbed a space on the rug in front of Uncle Bob's rocking chair as he spins a few tales for you and the rest of the kids... or read his blog, which is perhaps where these truly belong. Hard to charge $10 for a blog, though, so that's out. Regardless, it's funny, and one imagines that Pollard could turn out dozens of these filled with stories from his early days in Dayton, teaching, playing shows and partying at the Monument Club.

Lastly, but most expensively, is Town of Mirrors, Pollard's stab at legitimizing his collages as fine art. His gallery showings and four-figure sales last years were the start; this is the mass market feather in the cap. It's a 144-page hardbound book from Fantagraphics gathering more than 175 of his collages. Fans are familiar with many of these (particularly those of us who ponied up for earlier volumes of Eat), but this presentation promises to be the best yet for these works. Pollard adds to his starpower fan base with this one, as author Rick Moody pens the introduction (filmmaker and Pollard collaborator Steven Soderbergh had that honor in Jim Greer's GBV book). "The visual art of Robert Pollard is uncanny, moving, strange, and it summons a dark melancholy at the same time; an austere beauty is forged in what is degraded and worthless in the image repertoire of culture itself," he writes.

Labels: books, music, Robert Pollard

Embarrassingly enough, I first heard Steve Wynn on his first solo album, Kerosene Man. I was writing for the college paper and, to date myself, received a promo copy of his debut on vinyl. "Caroline" was OK, but Nothing much else hooked me, and while I kept hold of it, I didn't spin it much.

Fast forward a decade to 2001. I was writing for another paper, this time actually getting paid for it, and Wynn's Here Come the Miracles double CD came across my desk. By that time I had become familiar with Dream Syndicate, so, impressed that he was still cranking out records, I gave it a listen. From that moment on, I've been a huge fan, picking up nearly everything he released before or since.

Of late, that has put a dent in the bank account. In addition to two follow ups to Miracles -- cut with the same band subsequently dubbed the Miracle 3 -- he has released a couple of interesting live albums, a collaboration with his wife, drummer Linda Pitmon (a member of the Miracle 3 as well) and producer Paco Loco called Smack Dab, and a solo album recorded in Slovenia with an orchestra, Crossing Dragon Bridge. All are good, and different enough to justify the flurry of releases.

Now comes Wynn's latest project, Vol. 1: Frozen Ropes and Dying Quails, the debut of the Baseball Project, a supergroup of sorts featuring Scott McCaughey from the Minus 5 and Young Fresh Fellows, R.E.M.'s Peter Buck, Pitmon and Wynn. The disc includes 13 songs written by McCaughey and Wynn, all dealing with baseball. Satchel Paige, Curt Flood, Ted Williams and others are covered in the more specific tracks, while America's pastime itself is the subject of the rest.

It's the latest in a long list of collaborations for Wynn, who played with Green on Red frontman Dan Stuart in Danny & Dusty, was a member of Gutterball with members of the Long Ryders, House of Freaks and the Silos, and wrote a song and toured with fantastic crime fiction writer George Pelecanos.

Wynn, one of the nicest guys in rock, took time to answer a few questions about the new project, working with his wife and his future as a potential man of letters.

TIRBD: How did your conversation with Scott McCaughey at R.E.M.'s Hall of Fame induction party turn into a full-fledged recording project?

SW: An open bar, good gourmet Italian food, mutual admiration along with a mutual love for baseball and a mutual workaholic (along with a love for our “work”) nature all kicked us into high gear. Of course, an innate tendency towards procrastination kept us from doing it for years before we ran into each other. So, I guess a mutual sense of friendly competition didn't hurt either.

Did you approach these baseball songs any differently from a writing or music standpoint than you would songs whose subjects weren't proscribed by an overarching goal?

Absolutely. It's always helpful to have specific parameters. There are few things more intimidating and paralyzing than, “Write a song about ANYTHING.” Come to me and tell me that I should write a song about Curt Flood, sung from beyond the grave, and I can write that song in 15 minutes. Also, Scott and I were sending our embryonic songs back and forth by e-mail in the months leading up to the session so I think it helped establish and reinforce the tone of the record as well.

You've come to a point in your career where it seems like you can do anything you want: baseball album, getting Danny and Dusty back together, recording with a Spanish producer in Smack Dab... How does this jibe with what you envisioned for yourself when you embarked on a solo career nearly 20 years ago?

It jibes perfectly. It's why I broke up my band. I love playing with different people and find I get most inspired when presented with new people, new locations, new circumstances. If you listen to my first solo album and look at the credits it's pretty apparent that I wanted to play with EVERYONE and play EVERYTHING right from the start. I got that out of my system and then focused on different things with each record. My last two years has been choc-a-block with side projects but I think I'll be returning to my “day job” next year with a record with the Miracle 3.

You've been on a real streak since Here Come the Miracles. Was there anything beyond a different recording locale and severing ties with a fading label that accounts for that?

Thanks. To be honest, I thought I hit that Phase Two stride of my music with My Midnight, the album before Miracles. I think I just began to return to the things that got me excited when I started making music years before. I stopped worrying and learned to embrace impulse, self-indulgence, fearlessness and disposability. Everything didn't have to be a Big Deal – just document where you are, dive in fully and without fear and then move on to the next thing. It's actually a better way to make music you'll be proud of years later. Of course, Tucson and Wavelab Studios and Craig Schumacher helped as well.

Crossing Dragon Bridge is yet another stylistic turn for you, and a successful one. What led to that project, and do you envision exploring that sound more fully in the future?

I've wanted to do a record like this for a long time. I've always liked singer-songwriter records laden with strings and exotic instruments (all of the Tims – Harden, Buckley, Rose – come to mind). And I knew I wanted to make the album with Chris Eckman because he's shown many times that he knows how to make this kind of record. Someone told me that Crossing Dragon Bridge felt like some kind of Lee Hazlewood Goes To Slovenia record and that's good enough by me. I'm sure I'll do another one like this again some time but not right away. Each time I go into the studio is kind of a reaction to the one before, so I have a feeling a rock record is in the works.

How is it to live and work with Linda Pitmon? Are you able to keep work and home separate?

Well, we love making music and there's no need to keep it fully separate from our lives. It’s a big part of our lives. That being said, it's nice to just shut it all down sometimes too. And then we go on tour for a month or two and it all blends together in a nice way. She’s a very positive influence on everything I do.

You have worked with author George Pelecanos, putting some of his lyrics to music on ...Tick ...Tick ...Tick, and backing him on guitar for some readings. Have you thought about crossing over to his world, working on fiction or memoir? You craft short stories of a sort in your lyrics already, and I would imagine you have more than enough fodder for something akin to Dean Wareham's Black Postcards as well.

I read the Wareham book and was really impressed. It seemed to be one of the few rock "memoirs" that was more than just a Road Blog, although I was both fascinated and terrified by his honesty and self-laceration. I don't know if I would want to do anything like that. I have enjoyed keeping regular tour (and home) diaries and documenting my life that way – they're all pretty well catalogued on my web site. And that keeps my non-lyric writing jones at bay. See, I've always felt that Randy Newman and Warren Zevon and Townes Van Zandt are already great novelists even though they're writing in the verse-chorus-verse-chorus mode. I don't know if I need to read a Randy Newman novel to know that he could write fiction. Who knows? I'll probably give the novel or semi-truth-lots-of-lies-gonzo-memoir a try sometime. But first there are more songs to write.

Does the "vol. 1" in the title of the Baseball Project record indicate that future volumes will follow? If so, will they follow the same format and use the same lineup?

Oh yeah, I'm sure we'll do some more. There are countless stories to be told. And it turns out there are a lot of other indie rocker/baseball fans out there so I wouldn't be surprised if there aren't a few pinch hitters next time.

Labels: Monday Interview, music

I had been wondering when Margot & the Nuclear So and Sos would resurface to follow up their brilliant debut, The Dust of Retreat. So, I was happy to hear the follow up, Not Animal, was due Oct. 7. Then things got a bit strange.

It seems the band's new label, Epic Records, didn't like what the band turned in as it's sophomore outing, Animal, and so, after months of wrangling, the two parties came to a compromise: Epic would issue Animal on vinyl on Sept. 30, and Not Animal, a disc containing the songs the label likes, the next week. The upshot is that the band will release 19 songs -- 12 each on the albums, with overlap of five songs. The vinyl disc also will be available via digital download, meaning those of us no longer keen on dragging out the turntable can buy the label-sanctioned Not Animal, grab the seven Animal songs found only on that release and curse both parties for the trouble.

As a teaser, the band is offering another confusing batch of songs. It recorded a Daytrotter session featuring four tracks from Animal/Not Animal. It also is selling a Daytrotter Sessions EP that includes two tracks on available for free at Daytrotter, and three that are.

Regardless, the music is worth tracking down. Richard Edwards' songs are consistently compelling, blending simple folk strumming with a competent, confident ensemble that flesh out and color those songs to create alternately fragile and muscular tunes full of smart hooks.

Labels: label woes, music

The latest in Bob Dylan's Bootleg series is due Oct. 7, but I fear its release will be a bit underwhelming for the kind of fans who buy these (yours truly included). Where in the past the series unearthed long-sought unreleased tracks, classic concerts and valuable outtakes, the new one, Tell Tale Signs gathers several recent tracks, be they alternate versions, demos or unreleased tracks. One is tempted to give the benefit of the doubt given the quality of the five previous sets (1-3 came as one volume), but doubts are reasonable.

True diehards already own a few of these tracks, as it gathers Dylan's contributions to the soundtracks of a few movies including "North Country," "Lucky You" (?) and "Gods and Generals." The presence of a handful of live tracks, rather than official release of the heavily bootlegged source shows, is puzzling as well. Especially missed are the "Supper Club" tapes. Dylan played four shows over two nights at The Supper Club in New York in November 1993. They were filmed but never released. One track, "Ring Them Bells," will appear on Tell Tale Signs, and USAToday.com has video of the song, which is the first official release of the material (though it has circulated in the fan community for years).

Disc One
1. Mississippi 6:04 (Unreleased, Time Out of Mind)
2. Most of the Time 3:46 (Alternate version, Oh Mercy)
3. Dignity 2:09 (Piano demo, Oh Mercy)
4. Someday Baby 5:56 (Alternate version, Modern Times)
5. Red River Shore 7:36 (Unreleased, Time Out of Mind)
6. Tell Ol' Bill 5:31 (Alternate version, North Country soundtrack)
7. Born in Time 4:10 (Unreleased, Oh Mercy)
8. Can't Wait 5:45 (Alternate version, Time Out of Mind)
9. Everything is Broken 3:27 (Alternate version, Oh Mercy)
10. Dreamin' of You 6:23 (Unreleased, Time Out Of Mind)
11. Huck's Tune 4:09 (From Lucky You soundtrack)
12. Marchin' to the City 6:36 (Unreleased, Time Out of Mind)
13. High Water (For Charley Patton) 6:40 (Live, August 23, 2003,Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada)

Disc Two
1. Mississippi 6:24 (Unreleased version #2, Time Out of Mind)
2. 32-20 Blues 4:22 (Unreleased, World Gone Wrong)
3. Series of Dreams 6:27 (Unreleased, Oh Mercy)
4. God Knows 3:12 (Unreleased, Oh Mercy)
5. Can't Escape from You 5:22 (Unreleased, December 2005)
6. Dignity 5:25 (Unreleased, Oh Mercy)
7. Ring Them Bells 4:59 (Live at The Supper Club, November 17, 1993,New York, NY
8. Cocaine Blues 5:30 (Live, August 24, 1997, Vienna, VA)
9. Ain't Talkin' 6:13 (Alternate version, Modern Times)
10. The Girl on the Greenbriar Shore 2:51 (Live, June 30, 1992,Dunkerque, France)
11. Lonesome Day Blues 7:37 (Live, February 1, 2002, Sunrise, FL)
12. Miss the Mississippi 3:20 (Unreleased, 1992)
13. The Lonesome River 3:04 (With Ralph Stanley, from the album Clinch Mountain Country)
14. 'Cross the Green Mountain 8:15 (From Gods and Generals Soundtrack)

Those with a spare hundred bucks can upgrade to a three-disc set that includes still more rarities (which I hope show up on file-sharing services). That $129 "Exclusive Deluxe Edition" includes:

Disc Three
1. Duncan and Brady (Unreleased, 1992)
2. Cold Irons Bound (Live, Bonnaroo, June 2004)
3. Mississippi (Unreleased version #3, Time Out of Mind)
4. Most of The Time (Alternate version #2, Oh Mercy)
5. Ring Them Bells (Alternate version, Oh Mercy)
6. Things Have Changed (Live, Portland, Oregon, 2000)
7. Red River Shore (Unreleased version #2, Time Out of Mind)
8. Born in Time (Unreleased version #2, Oh Mercy)
9. Tryin' To Get To Heaven (Live, London, England, 2000)
10. Marchin' to the City (Unreleased version #2, Time Out of Mind)
11. Can't Wait (Alternate version #2, Time Out of Mind)
12. Mary and the Soldier (Unreleased, World Gone Wrong)

Labels: Bob Dylan, music

The Walkmen's buzzed-about new disc, You & Me, went on sale today at AmieStreet.com, a site that sells music and gives the money to various charities through its "Download to Make a Difference" campaign. In the case of the Walkmen, the band agreed to sell its disc for $5 for the next three weeks, with all proceeds going to the Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center.

"All donations go to Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center in honor of Luca Vasallo, a friend to the band and a current patient who is seven months old and doing a great job fighting a very difficult disease,” said Peter Bauer of The Walkmen. “This is a very good organization that certainly deserves the attention.”

Preview The Walkmen's You & Me on AOL

First single, "In the New Year". (via the Daily Rind blog)

Labels: music

Paul Westerberg has become one of the most interesting artists of the past decade, and his latest release solidifies that position.

After watching his band, the Replacements, flameout and his solo career fizzle, Westerberg stepped away, or rather down, into the basement, where he recorded two albums of fairly lo-fi rock that married his early knock-it-out aesthetic to his latter-day lyrical and musical fascinations. The result was 2002’s Stereo/Mono, his best work in years. In the six years since, he has released more material than in the previous 15. It has been hit or miss – the Grandpaboy stuff largely accounting for the misses – but the hits outnumber those found on his first three solo records. His prolific output means the fan becomes the editor, a job that isn’t always terribly rewarding. But, as with standard bearer Robert Pollard, Westerberg’s practice means that a lot of music that would not have otherwise been released will indeed leak out, and so much the better.

Which brings us to 49:00, Westerberg’s new album. Yes, it’s an album, despite the fact that it was released on Monday as one 44 minute downloadable mp3 for 49 cents from Amazon.com and Tunecore. With 20-some-odd songs and snippets mashed together to create one long track, it really plays like a good 12-track album with a lot of little snippets bridging the longer songs. Again, Pollard and Guided by Voices are an apt comparison.

Westerberg is getting a ton of press for this sneak attack on the marketplace, and it’s to his credit. He’s probably making as much from this as he would from a traditionally released album, and he’s receiving much more notice than he would otherwise for this batch of songs. If this was a new album on Vagrant, the follow-up to Folker, he’d get a couple of magazine write ups, some online coverage and then nothing. Releasing it this way ensures that he’ll be called a visionary and earn him the kind of notice usually reserved for acts like Radiohead.

And yet, I’d guess that was not his intent; not fully. He certainly didn't put a lot of thought into the presentation, calling it 49:00 despite it's 43:55 runtime. According to his manager, Darren Hill, "He finished it on Monday, sent it to me on Tuesday and it was out this weekend." So reports Billboard.com. “It's almost like you're scanning a radio dial. You're getting a glimpse inside of Paul's head here." That was more likely his goal: a brain dump with no strings attached and, thanks to the unpretentious presentation, no expectations. If you like it, it’s a bargain. If you don’t, who’s to complain about wasting 49 cents?

And this is no waste. There are a good half dozen songs here that are as good as any Westerberg has released in the past few years, and a few others that are at least pleasantly disposable. Hill told Billboard.com that this is "just the tip of a really large creative iceberg. Paul has been writing and recording at a furious pace." Here's hoping the response to 49:00 convinces him to continue putting it out.

Labels: commerce, music, Paul Westerberg

For some foolish reason, I decided that Dan Bern wasn't my cup of tea without actually hearing his music. Maybe it was the "new Dylan" tag he was saddled with, or the Ani DiFranco connection or the strange album covers or... well, who knows? Regardless, it was my loss.

I finally had the chance to hear Bern (or rather, was forced to do so) when I was writing about arts and entertainment for his hometown paper in Cedar Rapids. He was coming to CSPS (another late discovery, that) for a show, and I got a CD in the mail with the hope I'd do something to preview the show. I listened to New American Language, his fourth album, and was hooked. Here was an artist who mixed witty wordplay with an international political awareness, all with a rollicking sound that blended folk, power pop, pub rock, blues and r'n'b. I picked up everything before and since, and count myself a solid fan.

I hadn't heard much out of the usually prolific Bern in a while when flooding hit our area. I remember wondering if he would come to town to perform a benefit, only to learn a couple of days later that he was already in town and planned to perform several times in flood-related events. We hooked up to do an interview to preview those shows, and I later followed up to ask him more general questions for the long-awaited return of the Monday Interview.

I learned that Bern had been as prolific as ever; if I had been more alert I would have known. He wrote and/or co-wrote many of the songs in the film "Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story" (in fact, his contributions are among the highlights of this otherwise uneven film), and released three albums on online music stores -- The Burbank Tapes, Divine & Conquer and Macaroni Cola. He also wrote and recorded the song "The Ballad of Jimmy Carter/Man from Plains" for the Jonathan Demme documentary about Jimmy Carter, "Man From Plains."

TIRBD: Your work on “Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story” seemed to open a door for you careerwise. How would you like to see that evolve and, if it became exactly what you wanted, how would you balance that with writing, recording and touring as a solo artist?

DB: I would love to do more projects along those lines. I love collaborating, and writing for characters, and just sitting around making stuff up! Ideally, I guess there'd be more projects than I'd know what to do with. I was on the road playing, part of the time I was writing “Dewey” songs. So there's not necessarily a conflict. But, at least for the time being, I’m probably more interested in doing movies and theatrical projects than "another record, another tour."

You worked with Mike Viola on that soundtrack. He's another artist once tabbed to be the next great (insert name here) but who now releases his own music and does various things to make a living. Is that a growing niche that you see yourself joining as the music business continues to change?

Well... we'll see. I guess everyone has to find their own way. Mike's a really skilled guy in a lot of different ways. In the past all I wanted to do was make records and bomb around playing every night. Seeing what a bunch of talented people can do when they pool together kind of opened my eyes.

Your deal with Messenger is done and you've released a few projects on the web for download. Do you want to work with a label again? Do you have more projects like The Burbank Tapes that might see the light of day online?

I did a short tour out east recently, just about three weeks, and I found myself playing all these songs I've never released, about 75 songs probably. Old & new. They felt good. I feel like I've got some great albums still to come. Just figuring out how to do it. These days, a label can be a help or a hindrance. I'll figure it out, I guess.

Which do you enjoy most: writing, performing or recording? With respect to the one you like least, would you stop doing it if that meant you could concentrate more on the other two and still make ends meet?

Well, really, I've always felt like they were three parts of the same thing. If I wasn't gonna perform anymore, would I write? If I didn't record anymore, would I eventually stop performing? I guess if I lost my voice and couldn't physically get out of bed, I might still write. But maybe I’d just do crossword puzzles... with “Dewey,” even though we were just writing songs, we were also recording and "performing" the songs, even if it was just for the demos. But John Reilly heard the demos, and it all helped shape his character I think. So even with that, it's hard to separate writing from performing and recording.

I think that maybe at this moment, I still love to perform, and I think I always will, and all that. but I like doing projects the most. And I can envision (and kinda want) my own notion of "performing" to cover a wider range of things. I loved writing the "Dewey" songs, I loved writing the song that was in the Jimmy Carter movie, I loved writing the songs for (the Cedar Rapids flood play) "Moving Home" and singing them in the context of the show. I really like that in all of those things, it's more than about just me singing songs. They're part of a larger context. It's the greatest thing to be able to write a song or a batch of songs for something, something bigger, and meaningful in a different way, than just me singing some songs, nice as that might be sometimes. and if I can contribute to it in a performance aspect, in a way to make it just a little better, then I'm pretty happy.

How has the economic downturn – high gas prices, less disposable income spent on the arts, etc. – affected you as an artist?

I guess at the end of a tour, there's less in the wallet after paying $4 a gallon. It's amazing how you start being aware of every danged mile. Take one wrong turn and you start calculating how much gas you're spilling. Obviously, the problems with energy and fuel are bigger than that. We could've had a good light rail system in every medium-sized city in the country by now, for what we've spent in Iraq the last few years. Tragic. Not to mention how the cupboard's bare when a real emergency comes up, like these floods. Does it take environmental disaster to rebuild green? Anyway... I don't know, maybe musicians will go back to hitch-hiking and hopping freights.

You were among a handful of artists four years ago who wrote and sang songs against President Bush. He won despite those and many other efforts, but has clearly been damaged by the past four years. Is there vindication for you there? Or perhaps frustration that your message didn't get through until it was too late?

More the latter. That the country's been damaged and the future made a little bleaker is the tragedy. Those guys'll be floating on their islands while we'll be left to clean up the mess. The most frustrating thing for me was that I couldn't reach more people, doing my lone troubadour thing. I guess that's partly why I'm now more interested in collaboration, being a part of something larger than just me railing into the wind.

You wrote 10 songs for a Cedar Rapids theater project that dealt with the impact of devastating floods here in Iowa. While those might be recorded and released, it struck me that you must have dozens, if not hundreds of songs written for specific occasions or events that haven't been properly recorded. Do you remember them all? Do you have documentation of them? If not, does that bother you?

Some of them probably deserve to go the way of newspapers at 11 p.m.! In the past, most songs didn't get recorded, or even written down. They just got sung, and passed around, until they didn't anymore. It's the rare song that sticks around, really. But, unless I die tomorrow, I'll probably get to some of them, sometime.

Labels: Monday Interview, movies, music

No surprise here: the Police plan to release a live CD and DVD documenting the 2007-08 reunion tour.

Stewart Copeland confirmed the plan for Billboard.com, saying the sets will be drawn from shows recorded Dec. 1 and 2 in Buenos Aires, Argentina last year.

The DVD also will include a documentary about the reunion, "Better Than Therapy," directed by Copeland's son, Jordan.

"He totally gets right under our skins, the little bastard, and his analysis of the group is better than any I've seen," Copeland said. "It's unbelievable to see the early rehearsals compared to where we're at now. Some of them were so raw we had to take them out, some of the scenes. But he's still got the nitty gritty there, with us each grappling with the reality of life in the band again."

And despite the wishes of fans, the Police really do seem to be done this time. Copeland said that while there was a possible "who knows?" in the back of their minds, the tour was always planned "as a very finite thing." He said an attempt to record a new version of "Truth Hits Everybody" that reflected the newly slowed down (read: more boring) version played on tour failed. "We went into the studio, laid down a backing track and immediately disagreed about where to go with it."

Having seen the tour in Chicago last summer, I'll probably fork over money for these sets, more as a souvenir than with any hope of it being something I'll wear out from use. The band was at its peak when it recorded The Police Live! (and perhaps at its most dangerous on the earlier set from 1979 included in the set), and I don't reach for that more than once every few years. An older, grayer, slower version of the band (Police v. 2.old) might have tantalized live because it was my first and only chance to see it, but without that visceral rush, I fear the music will leave me cold.

Labels: music, the Police

Perhaps the only good thing to come of the devastating flooding that has hit our area hard is the unscheduled opportunity to catch a Dan Bern show. Bern, a native of the area, was in town to visit his mom, but stuck around when he realized he might be able to do something to help out. That something became a benefit concert last night in Iowa City and his participation in a theater project in Cedar Rapids the next two weekends.

I came to Bern's music late. I knew he was a local boy made good, but hadn't heard enough about him to make me curious. Then, as an entertainment writer for the local paper, I had the chance to interview him to preview a show. I got his latest CD at the time, New American Language, and the great music within coupled with his easy-going demeanor and sharp wit made me an instant fan. I've kept up (and filled in his back catalog) ever since. I've had the chance to interview him a couple other times since (including last week for CorridorBuzz.com for a piece to preview this month's appearances) and he has always been gracious with his time and willing to indulge the odd question or two.

So, it was no surprise he was willing to perform to benefit area artists. His concert last night raised money for CSPS, a great performing arts and gallery space in Cedar Rapids that was inundated with flood water, and to establish an artists relief fund. It was a relatively brief show, but it offered plenty of highlights. He opened with "Black Tornado," a perfect way to start a set: "If you judge me tonight, judge me by the songs I write. That's who I am to you," he sang. The song, like several from the show, was drawn from New American Language, including "Turning Over," "Toledo" and "God Said No." He also pulled out "Estelle" and "Jerusalem" from his first, self-titled album, and "I Need You" from his great Fleeting Days album and at least a couple of unreleased tracks, "World War" and one about the year 2014.

He closed with three songs he wrote for the Cedar Rapids play, "Moving Home." He told me last week that he was approached by the director to write a song and ended up writing 10. So, he decided to join the cast so he could sing them all. The play is derived from personal stories about the flood, and Bern's songs were inspired by the script. He sand "Crooked Little Stream," "Sometimes All You Do is Pray" and "A Place to Go Home To," which he said closes the show. He had the small crowd sing the chorus - "A place to go home to, a place which will stand" -- while he "rapped" underneath, dropping lines like "rain, rain go away."

It was a good show, though it didn't help things entirely: as we exited, a heavy downpour soaked us. At least for now, it wasn't enough to bring the rivers back out of their banks.

Labels: music

I took in a lot of great jazz over the weekend thanks to the Iowa City Jazz Festival. I was working, reviewing some of the sets for CorridorBuzz.com (including Friday, Saturday and Sunday). The festival headliners were all excellent: Medeski, Martin & Wood on Friday, John Scofield on Saturday and Joshua Redman on Sunday. I got what I expected from MMW and Scofield -- funky, groove-based jazz -- but was pleasantly surprised by Redman. You can't rest on the phenom thing for too long, so I knew he had the goods, but I've never been moved by his music on record. Live, he was electric, playing with passion and enthusiasm. He played accompanied by just bass and drums, so there was no chance to lay out, no break, no rest. He brought it for about 80 minutes with little more than the time between songs and the occasional drum or bass solo to even get a breath.

The event is something to look forward to all year, as we don't get a lot of big name live jazz here in Iowa City very often. There is a very talented group of players in the area, thanks in part to the great jazz programs at the University of Iowa and the University of Northern Iowa just up the road in Cedar Falls, so we do have the opportunity to hear live jazz (though not as often as we should). As for big draws, however, we now must wait until November when Brad Mehldau comes to the UI's Hancher Auditorium, assuming that damage from the devastating flooding over the past several weeks can be repaired in time.

Photos by Loren Keller.

Labels: jazz, music

The Feelies have reunied to perform three shows over the next four days in New York, including two at Maxwells (technically in Hoboken) and one opening for Sonic Youth on the Fourth of July. It's a welcome return, one made all the more welcome for the reported fact that co-leaders Glenn Mercer and Bill Million are writing songs again.

According to a piece by Jon Pareles in the New York Times (which has a great photo mimicking the cover of Crazy Rhythms), "They have learned three dozen songs and are writing more, with the goal of recording again." Of course, they do so with "no manager, no recording contract and no tour dates planned beyond Independence Day."

I interviewed Mercer last fall, a piece about his fantastic 2007 solo debut, Wheels in Motion, that includes this exchange about his old band:

You recruited many fellow Feelies for the recording of the record, but decided not to issue it under the band's name. Is that due to the absence of Bill Million? Do you foresee making music with him again?

While recording the demo tapes, I began to notice how much the material sounded "Feelie-ish" and it was easy to imagine what the songs might sound like played by the Feelies. That's when I started to consider getting involved with my old band mates. At one point, I even considered making it a Feelies record, so I approached Bill with the idea. His response was that he'd love to re-unite the band to perform and record, but that the time wasn't right just now. It just didn't seem right to call it a Feelies record without Bill's involvement.

Good to know we'll get some more "Feelie-ish" music in the near future.

Labels: music

It's funny how, if you wait long enough, people who have been seen as cult acts and a marginal mainstream presence begin to take on the patina of classicism. To wit, Dexter Romweber, the singer and guitarist behind Flat Duo Jets, recently signed a deal with Bloodshot Records. There are those who loved FDJ -- I was ambivalent at best -- but the band was largely ignored. Want proof? What was the band's last album? If you said 1998's Lucky Eye, please show your FDJ fan club card. Regardless, Romweber is back (where's drummer Crow?) as a solo artist. First up, the near-requisite comeback vehicle, a duets album, this one featuring Cat power, Neko Case and Exene Cervenka. He also is joined by his sister, Sara, whose more-impressive pedigree includes stints with Let's Active and Snatches of Pink.

Bloodshot also will issue a new project from author Jonathan Lethem and songwriter Walter Salas-Humara is scheduled for September. You Are All My People from I'm Not Jim. According to Bloodshot, the two met at a Silos show. Lethem wanted to give Salas-Humara some of his books as a thank you for two decades of great music. A friendship ensued, as did a songwriting project that led to an album's worth of music. Salas-Humara said Lethem wrote very quickly:

"We would discuss the framework for a tune and he would be writing while we were talking. Then minutes later he would have several verses with internal rhymes, a chorus and a bridge. I was completely on the spot -- I now had to come up with melodies just as fast. We ended up with 11 songs at the end of day two." The production team The Elegant Too --Philip Hernandez and Chris Maxwell -- then rebuilt Salas-Humara's tracks, sometimes replacing everything but his vocal.

Hard Case Crime will celebrate the release of its 50th book with a party July 8 in New York.That milestone publication -- Fifty-to-One by Hard Case editor Charles Ardai (who wrote two previous HCC books under the name Richard Aleas) -- actually won't come until November, but it's worth celebrating. The idea behind the book is a good one: it's split into 50 chapters, each named after one of the 50 books in the series. "The novel tells the story of how Hard Case Crime was founded in 1958 by a scoundrel who (among other things) thought it might be fun to publish a gangster's memoir -- only to find himself in hot water with both the Mob and the police after learning that the memoir was not quite the true story he'd thought..." Ardai writes.

Several of the people behind the now-defunct music magazine Harp have moved operations online with a new product, Blurt. From the looks of things, it hews very closely to the editorial and design style of Harp, which is certainly not a bad thing. The site

It’s an interesting project: The actual digital magazine is exactly that – a magazine-like publication where the pages are flipped with a click of a button. It feels very much like an issue of Harp online. The content is similar is well, with features on Joan As Policewoman, My Morning Jacket, Ray Davies, My Brightest Diamond, and Alejandro Escovedo, among many others. It also includes CD reviews, as well as those of books, DVDs and merchandise.

Publisher Scott Crawford lauds its “green-minded, digital only format.” A cynic, of course, would remind Crawford that Harp wasn’t worried about the non-greenness of paper until the bottom fell out financially. That said, it’s a nice presentation despite the fact that I’ll miss having a paper copy to cart around.

Blurt also will include a daily-updated web site that offers additional features and interactive content.

Labels: books, crime fiction, magazines, music

I was a major Hall & Oates fan as a kid, but would now consider the band to be a guilty pleasure. That's probably not fair -- there shouldn't be anything guilty about appreciating good pop songwriting -- but the band did itself no favors with its last couple of releases before taking a long hiatus. "Private Eyes"? Sure. "Maneater"? Not so much.

If anything is clear, however, it is that myself and all of my peers in the mid-1980s made Daryl Hall a very rich man. He gives a little something back in the form of a relatively new web show, "Live From Daryl's House." I came across it thanks to a tip on a Nick Lowe mailing list indicating that Lowe had appeared on Hall's show. I checked it out and found a great live set and a an intriuging new show.

The show is essentially this: Hall and his longtime colleague T-Bone Wolk perform songs with a visiting musician at one of Hall's homes. There are four: Upstate New York, Maine, the Bahamas or London. Lowe visited Hall in London. There, the three musicians performed a handful of songs, including "I Live on a Battlefield," "Shelly My Love," "Cruel to be Kind" and "Rome Wasn't Built in a Day." Played on three acoustic guitars, the songs chime and ring in the castle-like house, while Hall's background harmonies make one pine for future recorded collaborations.

The show debuted in November, and Lowe's is the eighth episode thus far. Previous episodes featured Travis McCoy from Gym Class Heroes, KT Tunstall and, of course, John Oates, among others. Are are viewable at the show's site. They blend acoustic performance with a sort of "Storytellers" vibe that suits the format well.

Perhaps this will offer a bit of career rehabilitation for Hall. Regardless, it's yet another great source of live music on the web.

Labels: music, web

What a week. Not that are necessarily enough people who read this to have noticed, but I haven't been posting much lately because my business moved into new offices six weeks ago and it has taken a lot to get them up and running. Then, a week ago, we moved back out because the flooding Iowa River was swiftly rising around us. We spent a day completely disassembling and moving our office, then started sandbagging (the photo was taken Saturday. We're about halfway in). Now, everyone is working from home until we can get back in, which will be weeks away.

So, it was a welcome diversion to go see a rock show on Sunday night. The Whigs opened for Rose Hill Drive and were absolutely awesome. The bands are apparently co-headlining the tour, and unfortunately it was the Whigs' turn to open in Iowa City. That meant a short set (but at least it was early so this flood-weary concertgoer could hit the sack early). The band played 8-10 songs (I lost count), focusing mainly, and wisely, on their sophomore outing, the killer Mission Control. All nuance brought to the songs on record was scrapped in favor of volume and energy. This was the loudest show I've seen in a long time. That would be my only complaint, and perhaps it's a sign that I'm getting too old. Still, the performance was so engaging and so powerful that it didn't matter. "Like a Vibration," "Right Hand on My Heart" and "Production City" (which really ought to be a single) were fantastic.

Rose Hill Drive was another matter. Having heard the band's forthcoming sophomore disc, I was surprised these two were touring together. Hearing them live drove that point home. Rose Hill Drive is a metal band, with wailing solos and a singer fond of the upper range vocal trill (that's hard to describe; pretend you're a metal singer waiting at the top of your range. That's what they sounded like). I was glad for the band order then, happy not to have had to sit through their set to get to the Whigs. They weren't bad, just not at all what I wanted to hear at that point.

Meanwhile, the flood waters closed nearly every road into and out of town, and Wye Oak didn't get good directions. The band was scheduled to headline a show across town, but when I arrived to see them, I was informed they hadn't made it. That's too bad, because the band's debut disc, If Children, had me intrigued to see the live show. I interviewed Andy and Jenn for CorridorBuzz.com, and they seemed like great people who would put on an energetic show. I hope they reschedule.

I did get to see a great show just before the flood waters hit, taking in Iron & Wine at the Englert Theatre in Iowa City. I reviewed that for CorridorBuzz.com. An excerpt: "(Sam Beam's) songs maintain a delicate balance. At their core, nearly all could be carried adequately, if not splendidly, by little more than his guitar and voice. Thankfully, despite the cost of bringing such a large ensemble on the road, he chose to eschew the solo route for what was a fully formed, fleshed out manifestation of his music. Each song is so well crafted that it can support a band of eight playing a couple of dozen instruments, all without ever getting in one another's way or ever allowing for a moment when each instrument could not be heard distinctly in the mix."

Labels: flood, music

Merge Records has announced that the sophomore outing from The Broken West, Now or Heaven, is due in September. That's great news. The band's debut, I Can't Go On, I'll Go On, was stunningly good at times. The first three tracks were as good a power-pop trio as has been released in the past couple of years. The band's live show was even better, showing how a bit of live grit could really drive the band's songs.

According to Merge: "It was in a backyard of their L.A. neighborhood that Ross Flournoy, Danny Iead, Rob McCorkindale, Brian Whelan and friend/writing partner Adam Vine developed Now or Heaven, The Broken West's second full-length album. While many bands' second albums end up being about the road, Now or Heaven originates from home, the longing to get there and all that comes from being there. The perspective generated from the time spent on the road and the distance traveled led to a new, unnameable development."

That's heartening, as the uneven spots on the debut nearly equaled the highlights, a sure sign of a band caught in the studio before it was fully formed. The

I spoke with singer and songwriter Ross Flournoy last year for a Monday Interview, and caught the band live early last year.

Now or Heaven track listing:
1. Gwen, Now and Then
2. Auctioneer
3. Elm City
4. Ambuscade
5. Perfect Games
6. House of Lies
7. The Smartest Man Alive
8. Got It Bad
9. Terror for Two
10. Embassy Row

Labels: music

There aren't many acts that were big when I was in college that are still making relevant music, likely for the same reason I'm not headed out to clubs much these days to hear their successors: Life (and age) gets in the way. So it was a surprise to hear Secrets of the New Explorers from Glen Phillips. While I was an eager listener in the earliest days of his band Toad the Wet Sprocket --the band's debut, Bread and Circus was issued the summer after my freshman year, and was on the playlist of every sensitive indie rocker that fall semester -- I outgrew Toad about the time grunge took hold.

I knew Phillips had embarked on a solo career, but didn't pay him much mind until this EP showed up in the mailbox. The premise is intriguing: The son of two scientists, he and collaborator John Askew discussed ideas while recording that led to a batch of songs about space. Three songs were completed, with Phillips recording an additional three solo. The result is a clever, catchy EP.

It sounds like Phillips if you know what you're listening for, but I was surprised at the maturity of his sound. Credit the fact that he started with Toad while still a teenager, and is now a guy in his mid 30s. I wish more of my favorites from way back had stayed in the game in this fashion. Too many give up or put together years-in-the-making albums that fall flat. Phillips had an idea, came up with an EP's worth of songs and put it out. Simple, and the kind of experiment that more artists would do well to emulate.

The disc is surprisingly diverse given its quick completion and its brevity. "They'll Find Me" and "Return to Me" seem the most Toadlike, while "Solar Flare" seems like a sweet lullaby about, um, radiation poisoning. "Space Elevator," with a faux funky vibe is one I could take or leave, but everything else is pleasant and compelling.

In just 20 short minutes, Phillips reasserts himself as someone for me to watch, with a model that ought to be emulated by any creative artists with access to a home studio and some ideas to explore.

MP3: Solar Flare

Labels: music, TuesdayTuneup

When I worked for my college newspaper years and years ago, I had the idea of tagging along when a friend’s band went on tour. I’d ride in the van, help them load in and out and generally see what it’s like to be a touring musician. As the date of the tour approached, my friend worked to convince me that this wasn’t a good idea. I don’t recall his specific argument, but it amounted to “you’ll be bored out of your mind.”

He was probably right; his argument was strong enough that I decided not to go. But now I have Dean Wareham’s memoir, Black Postcards in hand, and it makes me wish I’d gone. Sure, you don’t populate a book with the boring parts, so his account of his years with Galaxie 500 and Luna is a bit skewed in favor of the exciting bits, but it still captures the romance of the road, and makes me wish I’d been a bit more adventurous in my youth.

For fans of what evolved from college rock to alternative to indie to whatever it’s called today, the book is a mother lode of information and backstage gossip. Wareham is most focused on his own bands, of course, but the two groups came into contact with a wide swath of the indie-rock world, and Wareham doesn’t hold back when sharing his thoughts – good and bad – about his peers.

For those of us who were fans of his bands, the book serves as the dream liner notes to a career. Why did Galaxie 500 split? Why was this song on this album? Why did this member quit? It’s all here, and in surprisingly crisp detail. Wareham is a smart guy who obviously has thought about his vocation to a high degree, and his thoughts are amusing, illuminating and somewhat sobering in spots.

The hook for the book – as evidenced by the subtitle, “A Rock ’n’ Roll Romance” – is the fact that Wareham fell in love with his bass player, left his wife and toddler son, broke up his band and embarked on a new personal and professional relationship. It’s a sad story that could probably be applied to hundreds of touring musicians with only an altered detail or two, but one with a hopeful ending in the form of a creative rebirth with Dean & Britta. It gives what could have been a standard rock memoir and/or tour diary a bit of emotional heft. This isn’t exactly “Behind the Music,” but it does make the story more worthy of publication by a big house than it might have otherwise.

Wareham took the time to answer a few questions about the book, his bands and the future.

TIRBD: Do you find it strange that a major reason Luna broke up was the inability to ever move to the next level careerwise, yet a major publisher is willing to sink money into publishing and promoting a book that is at least partially about that lack of commercial success?

DW: The publishing world is new to me, but I have to think they know what they are doing. As for the record business, on one level you could argue that Luna suffered from a lack of commercial success, because we never had a multi-platinum hit album, and that is what all major labels are looking for. But if you broke down the numbers from our years at Elektra, you would find that even as the band sank slowly into a pit of "debt,” we were selling hundreds of thousands of compact discs, and with licensing money on top of that the Warner Music Group did just fine with Luna. But the expectations are so different in the music business than in book publishing. 100,000 books would make your book a bestseller, but 100,000 copies of our second CD was considered promising, but not exactly a success.

Given the level of detail in some of your tour recollections, I assume you kept a pretty detailed tour journal. What was the motivation for that, and if at any time that motivation involved a project like this, did that have an affect on what you chose to record?

I kept a detailed journal in my late teens and early twenties, from my years at Harvard through the time in Galaxie 500. I'm not sure why I was did that (because I was lonely?), but I was sure glad to find those diaries in a box when I started writing the book. Then there was a period of five years, covering the first three Luna albums, where I didn't keep a regular journal -- all I had was tour itineraries and the music, and my own recollections. So I skipped through those years pretty quickly (to the chagrin of certain fans who have complained that I don't talk enough about the making of the second Luna album, or what it was like to meet Tom Verlaine). With the advent of the Internet revolution we launched a Luna website, fuzzywuzzy.com, and I started posting tour diaries on the site - I was writing again. But the official tour diaries were sanitized - there were incidents that were not fit for public consumption, indeed, things that I wouldn't even mention in my own private journal.

I kept waiting for the moment when you put down the drugs and talked about getting clean and sober and healthy (just like seemingly every other performer with a tale like this to tell), but it never came. Any thoughts about that, or better yet, second thoughts about that thread being simply one of many that make up the fabric of the story rather than a sort of through-line cautionary tale?

Maybe it appears from the book that I was ingesting vast quantities of drugs, because those nights made for some funny stories. Sure, I might have done a line or two of cocaine if someone offered it to me after a show (a fan perhaps, or someone from the record company, or management), and I certainly had a few drinks every night while on tour, but we didn't not travel around the country with a bus full of liquor and drugs, nor did we take drugs while we were in the studio -- we were there to make music, not to party.

So I don't feel like I have to apologize for having a good time once in a while (though certainly I saw other people very close to me whose lives were derailed by drug use). For the cautionary drug stories, I recommend the recent rock memoirs by Slash, Nikki Sixx, and Eric Clapton -- former junkies all. I was a mere dabbler.

There seems to be no love lost between you and dozens of your peers. I lost count of the number of people who are dismissed with a cutting remark, from bandmates to tourmates to casual acquaintances. It's one thing to feel this way, it's another to express those feelings so publicly and permanently. Any trepidation about that? Any backlash?

With respect to my peers, perhaps I was opinionated, but it's just music we're talking about -- and I don't have to pretend that I liked Lenny Kravitz or Bono. I don't imagine they would care too much what I think anyway. I was more concerned about my ex-bandmates. But being in a rock and roll band is about conflict. You push and shove, and argue about small things and large ones - that is an essential part of the experience. I made an effort be as fair and objective as I could, but I wanted to go into the conflict in some detail, to bring out the humor and the drama, not just gloss over it while citing the standard "musical and personal differences." At any rate, if I made cutting remarks, I made them about myself also.

Looking back on your career like this, do you see any points at which you wonder about the path not taken and where you might be otherwise? If so, where did these occur and what do you imagine might have been the ultimate destination of those alternate paths?

I could spend days trying to answer this question. I guess I could have taken a job working in the trading department at Chase Manhattan Bank in 1986, and my life might have turned out very differently indeed. But I didn't.

Spending this much time analyzing your own songwriting, recording and performing, will you approach future endeavors in all three arenas any differently?

Since I'm not in a rock band anymore, and I am no longer signed to a seven-record deal, I can take my time making records. I am no longer on an annual cycle of writing songs, making a new record, touring to support it, and then starting all over again. And with the changes in technology, I do more of the recording at home, on my own time. Songwriting does not get any easier, but with the two Dean & Britta albums I've chosen to record half original material and half covers, and it is easier to write six new songs than twelve, so I think I may stick with this formula - which is what everyone did before the Beatles started writing all their own material.

It isn't clear from your recounting of your earliest days as a musician whether you always wanted to be a professional musician or if it just became what you did because other people responded to it. What that your career goal coming out of high school or college, or did you have other plans? Was there ever a real long-term fall-back position?

I thought about going to grad school after graduating college, studying anthropology - but when I read Tristes Tropiques by Claude Levi-Strauss, and he talked about bees crawling up his nose while he slept by the banks of the Amazon, I changed my mind. I didn't dare to think that I could be a professional musician - this notion would have seemed absurd in America in 1986 (though perhaps not so ridiculous in England). And anyway, I could barely play the guitar at that point, how could I be a professional musician? But then you learn (and perhaps this is the lesson of punk rock) that you don't have to be amazing players to cook up something beautiful. Still, I think in Galaxie 500 we were surprised every step of the way: surprised that we recorded a seven-inch single that sounded so perfect, and an album that we were really proud of, surprised when the record was played on college radio, amazed that Slash Records and Rough Trade wanted to sign the band.

Do you have a favorite rock 'n' roll and/or tour memoir other than your own?

I really liked Dee Dee Ramone's memoir, Lobotomy, and Dylan's Chronicles. And White Bicycles by folk producer Joe Boyd. But my favorite book about a rock star is Great Jones Street by Don DeLillo, which is of course a work of fiction.

Labels: books, Monday Interview, music

It's not a complete condemnation of Steve Earle's performance here Saturday night to say that I fell asleep during the second half of his set. Blame the 5:45 wake-up call from our 3-month-old son for a good portion of that. But suffice to say, had the show been more riveting, I would have had more success fighting off the Zzzzzzs.

The show was exactly what I expected from something billed as Earle solo acoustic. The set was heavy with slower story songs, and, thanks to the fact that he is on tour in support of Washington Square Serenade, a lot of tracks from that album. I'll admit I hadn't thought much about the show until the moment I entered the theater, but if I had crafted a dream set list, there would be little overlap between it and what I heard last night.

After an opening set by Earle's latest wife, Allison Moorer, that captivated thanks to her theater-filling vocals, Earle opened with a set of older songs that were a pleasant surprise. The first handful included three favorites from his first album, Guitar Town: "Someday," "Goodbye's All We Got Left" and "My Old Friend the Blues." The slick hooks of those two-decade old recordings has been replaced by a world-weariness that makes them resonate more than they did when Earle was simply inhabiting a character. After all he's been through, it's easy to believe when he rasps about his friend the blues.

After about 40 minutes, a guy came out and stood behind what looked like two turntables and a microphone. He punched a button, filling the room with a drum machine beat and Earle launched into tunes from Washington Street Serenade with "Tennessee Blues:" "Bound for New York City and I won’t be back no more... boys won’t see me around, goodbye guitar town," he sang. Literally, he left Tennessee for for New York, but he also left behind that sound to embrace a new, beat-driven template with a Dust Brother at the boards. The album is an admirable if flawed experiment. Live, the songs gave the show some energy and heft, but it felt like watching someone do karaoke of their own material.

There were highlights, though they mainly came from reinterpretations of older tracks like "CCKMP" and "Transcendental Blues" that found him adding complementary beats to songs that were sympathetic to that presentation. The drum machine left - as Moorer joined him for "Days Aren't Long Enough" - and returned - for the cloyingly obvious "City of Immigrants." The obligatory sing-along, "Steve's Hammer (For Pete)" was nice, and his plodding cover of Tom Waits' "Way Down in the Hole" (used in the fourth and final season of "The Wire") seemed less, well, plodding.

Pleasant surprises continued throughout the set. A spirited "Copperhead Road" and a sweet "The Galway Girl" among them. But in the end, this felt like the performance of someone who had done this for so long that even the injection of a drum machine couldn't adequately spice things up. The crowd loved it, acting as if it had been starved for a big, quality show (and come to think of it...), but this felt like either the kind of thing Earle is going to do until they plant him in the ground, or, hopefully, something he looks back on as a transitory moment.

Labels: music

It's nice to see the Replacements back in (the very edge of the) spotlight thanks to the reissue of the band's first four albums. Rhino is giving the discs the deluxe treatment, with remastering and generous bonus tracks. While most of those tracks are familiar to fans that have had 20-plus years to track them down on singles and bootlegs, it'll be nice to have high-fidelity versions of everything in one place.

Billboard offers a nice, short Q&A with Paul Westerberg and Tommy Stinson, where they reveal the now widely quoted news that they considered -- then rejected -- recent offers to reunite for summer festivals. No surprise; I just don't see Westerberg caring enough to rehash something he has clearly left behind. He alludes to that here with the least-cranky response I've seen yet:

"I don't think I could physically get up there and bellow these 18 songs (from) that first record. That's just sheer youth there. I can't find that in a bottle or a pill. I'm just too creaky for that."

Meanwhile, putting the band's early magic into perspective, he talks about what drove the two older members: the realization that anything else would suck in comparison.

"Bob (Stinson) and I at least understood that this was the only road up and out. We had no skill -- he was a cook, I was a janitor -- and it was like, "We make it in rock 'n' roll or we die trying."

Sorry Ma, Forgot to Take Out the Trash; Stink; Hootenanny and Let it Be arrive Tuesday.

Labels: music, The Replacements

Thus ends Big Dipper Week, where I've taken a look at each phase of the band's career. We end with Very Loud Array, the disc of unreleased songs that closes the new Supercluster 3-CD anthology on Merge Records.

After Slam, Big Dipper seemed to disappear. In those pre-Internet days, there were really only four ways a band like Big Dipper could stay on the radar: Tour, college radio, music magazines and, only rarely, a brief mention on MTV. The band resurfaced with a two-song 7” single on Feel Good All Over in 1991, giving fans like me hope that they’d land back in indie-land where they belonged and pick up where they left off with Craps. It was not to be. By that time, Steve Michener and Jeff Oliphant had left their posts on bass and drums, respectively, and only Bill Goffrier and Gary Waleik remained from the original lineup.

Bill Goffrier: I kept going when Gary left, but we agreed that that was where the line was to be drawn on the name “Big Dipper,” so the remaining three of us played and recorded as, eventually “Saucer.”

Gary Waleik: It was too difficult for us to continue on past 1992 for a bunch of reasons. We didn’t have a label or an audience… two pretty important things, I think. Also, I don’t think that any of us felt like we had to be limited to careers in rock. Bill’s a painter and a teacher. Steve has a nursing degree and runs a new wine business in Walla Walla. I had a radio career to fall back on. Jeff is using his considerable charm and talent to make his mark in the world of high finance. And we’re all family men. So there were bigger and sometimes more interesting fish to fry.

They did leave behind an impressive batch of unreleased music, however. The two songs from that single – “Approach of a Human Being” and “The Beast” – were among several tracks that should have been released long before now. They weren’t, and that’s to Merge Records benefit now, for the cream of the crop constitutes the third disc of its three-disc anthology, Supercluster. That disc, dubbed Very Loud Array, constitutes a great lost Big Dipper Album. It’s a strong batch of songs that feels at times like a more logical follow-up to Craps than Slam. Where the band’s major label bow and swan song continues the crunchy pop of Craps, the songs on Very Loud Array are more organic, sounding less like an in vain stretch for the big time and more like four friends playing incredibly catchy songs for the entertainment of themselves and a small cadre of friends and fans.

There are clear winners here. “Wake Up the King” kicks things off with a blast of pop energy, while “Lifetime Achievement Award” shows how skillfully the band is able to conjure smart hooks with stripped-down instrumentation. Like the rest of the band’s catalog, the disc contains a few tracks that fall short of their best, but nothing here would have sullied the band’s reputation, then or now.

“Big Dipper recorded the new tunes sensibly and faithfully, a practice we had temporarily abandoned while making Slam,” Waleik writes in the Supercluster liner notes.

Steve Michener: If you listen to Very Loud Array you hear that, musically, they were a much better band. I think they missed out on my creative voice in the band though since the bass players after me were mostly just talented musicians but not much else. That's how it seems. It’s nice to hear some of the outtakes and oddities. Merge did a fantastic job and Gary deserves the credit for putting this together.

Bill Goffrier: The concept only took shape when we considered compiling the lost recordings from the post-Slam years. A working title was Lost in the Stars, and there were other recordings included, depending on whether you heard Gary’s or my sequence. I am glad that Gary took the ball and ran with it, because his preferences probably best present the range that was the sound of Big Dipper.

The four original members have been back together of late, rehearsing for three live shows next week on the East Coast to celebrate the anthology’s release: April 24 at Maxwell’s in Hoboken, April 25 at Southpaw in Brooklyn and April 26 at Middle East Downstairs in Cambridge.

For us fans stuck in the Midwest, there is some hope. Waleik says that if these three shows go well, some summer dates in larger cities like Chicago might follow. As for whether the Very Loud Array songs will show up in the set list, or, hope against hope, a new record might result from all of this, well, it depends who you ask.

Bill Goffrier: There is a great deal of material we could record. It is a matter of making time, or having time, as facilitated by the support people like those at Merge Records.

Gary Waleik: Yes, I hope to do as many new songs as we can (probably 3-4).

Steve Michener: If we had more time to practice I'm sure that some new stuff would come out, but given the time constraints we will probably be lucky to re-learn the old stuff. There might be one or two in the live set but don't hold your breath for recording. We could do Internet recording but for me Big Dipper is sitting in a room bouncing ideas.

Jeff Oliphant: I would love to write some songs, and record the band again. I hope we get the opportunity to do it. We could put out a great CD. Again I would write the hit songs! We could write about how our bodies are breaking down, or how important is to invest. I could write a whole album about investing in the financial markets!

Monday: Band interview
Tuesday: Boo-Boo/Heavens
Wednesday: Craps
Thursday: Slam

Labels: Big Dipper Week, music

Each day of Big Dipper Week, I'm taking a look at a phase of the band's career. Next up: The Slam LP, the only part of the band's catalog not included on the new Supercluster 3-CD anthology on Merge Records. It can be had, however, for cheap at most online retailers.

If there can be controversy in the life of a moderately successful college rock band with a six-year career, then Slam is it for Big Dipper. As I recall, it was a shock when Big Dipper was swept up in the wave of major label signings as any indie-rock band with a decent record under its belt moved up to the big leagues. It’s not that Dipper wasn’t worthy – if anything, as one of the best bands with the most pop potential of its peers, it was tailor-made for the big time. On the surface, at least. As the one-and-done success of bands like Fountains of Wayne have shown, a novelty hit is about the best most clever bands with great hooks can expect.

Steve Michener: There were a lot of expectations, I think, from fans, and signing to Epic was not one of them. A lot of the criticism directed toward the album was meant for us 'selling out' or whatever.

Big Dipper didn’t even see that level of success, and the band members seem more than willing to dissect the album looking for fault. No love is lost for producer Steve Haigler, who is declared a poor fit, and the band turns the finger of blame back on itself, citing a batch of songs not quite ready for prime time and a watering down of the Big Dipper sound. And that cover… ugh. If the creative department at Epic spent more than 30 minutes on, shame should be the least of their punishments.

Gary Waleik: I don’t think that Slam has been unfairly maligned, but I also think that some people who rejected it out of hand perhaps weren’t disposed to give it a fair listen. My personal feeling is that many of the songs are very good and even among our best, but that the production and performance of those songs did not do them justice.

Bill Goffrier: I was so immersed in the process of making Slam, I was convinced we were making a masterpiece. Being in the band and working on Slam was pretty much my whole life. Perhaps that is not a healthy way to live. It was waayyy too serious. My biggest regret with that album is that we let strangers make decisions for us, like designing the cover. I think if we redid the packaging it would suggest a whole new perspective on the music within.

Perhaps the new perspective Goffrier hopes for can be found through little more than the passing of time. I had left Slam on my shelf for years, allowing it to collect dust. But pulling it out shortly after I heard about the imminent arrival of Supercluster, I was pleasantly surprised at how well it held up. Sure, the production is overly slick and some of the songs find the band’s reach exceeding its grasp, but overall it’s a good album, and a fairly logical progression from Craps. Oh, and that cover of Mott the Hoople's "All the Way From Memphis"? Well, let's just say it's a spirited run through a great song that would have made a better B-side (like the band's blazing cover of Husker Du's "Girl Who Lives on Heaven Hill" found on the "Love Barge" single).

Jeff Oliphant: I love the songs on Slam! I listen to the CD quite often, my wife say’s it her favorite CD.

Steve Michener: I think this is a good record. Not our best, but we were blinded by visions of a successful career in music and lost sight of our original vision. Our first mistake was choosing Steve Haigler to produce it. He had nothing to do with our sound and I didn't really like him that much. We had other choices, like the Jayhawks producer and John Croslin, but we should have been thinking outside of the box. I really liked the idea of getting out of town to record so we could focus completely on the recording.

The lack of success of Slam signaled the beginning of the end for Big Dipper. Michener exited, followed some time later by Oliphant, leaving Goffrier and Waleik to carry on. At the time, as I recall, the typical desire to try other things was cited as the reason for the departures, but Michener shares now that there was more to it than that.

Steve Michener: It was during the recording of Slam that the rest of the band started to get down on me for my lack of bass-playing chops. I always knew that I wasn't a musician and had been skating by for years but when the major label came into the picture this became an issue. Not sure why it always does with us borderline musicians when the majors show up. Anyway, there was a lot of tension that started around Slam and continued into the tour that summer that eventually pushed me out of the band. It was very mutual, I was ready to split. I'd been tired of being in a band with the toll it took on my personal life.

Frustration with the changes brought by a major label contract – Epic signed the band to an improbable eight album deal – are aired even within this disc. It’s full of plenty of the trademark Big Dipper guitar-crunch-fueled whimsy, but from the first line of the opening song, Goffrier’s “Love Barge” – “I once thought that I stood on solid ground/but the earth has moved and I’ve been turned around. And the only thing left to hold onto is myself, and myself alone” – it seems clear that the band is dealing with a shifting landscape that feels out of its control. Waleik’s “Blood Pact” is the most overt. Foreshadowing the band’s failure to dent the charts, he sings “Always reeling, never feeling that we had a chance in hell,” going on to say, “Waiting for our chance to meet the Boss, four nervous guys armed with but wit, then in his evil presence stood, offered us a deal, WE TOOK IT!!!”

Steve Michener: That CD embittered the band because it accelerated a lot of tension that ended up driving us apart. I think the songs stand on their own. They are not on (Supercluster) because Epic still owns it until the 12th of never and it would be a hassle to deal with them, I'm sure. I'd love to reissue that CD remixed with the guitars turned up and all the studio shit removed. That would make a great EP. We could call it All the Way from Charlotte. Gary can do that; he has lots of free time.

Labels: Big Dipper Week, music

Each day for the rest of Big Dipper Week, I'll take a look at a phase of the band's career. Next up: The Craps LP, included on the second disc of the new Supercluster 3-CD anthology on Merge Records.

I was surprised when I started this little endeavor to hear from the members of Big Dipper that Craps was a rushed, disjointed effort. It was the first point at which I heard the band, and I literally wore out a cassette of this as a college freshman. It was perfect: rocking songs, tremendous hooks and funny lyrics.

In hindsight, however, I can see the point. At nine songs, it was too short, and there are a couple of tracks that might have been better left as B-sides. Still, it’s an impressive step up from Heavens. The best songs here better anything on that disc, and the performance, arrangements and recording are more accomplished.

The disc begins with a bang as the guitars of Bill Goffrier and Gary Waleik issue a clarion call on “Meet the Witch.” But a funny thing happens a few seconds in: The guitars recede a bit, giving Goffrier’s vocals room to move. When the chorus comes, it’s big, with massed harmonies that take the song to another level. The closing note, held after the music fades, is chill-inducing. It's a presentation that seems nuanced and dynamic in a way the band's previous recordings were not.

The following track is the band’s jewel. “Ron Klaus Wrecked His House” is great for many reasons. It’s a true story (about Goffrier’s bandmate in the Embarrassment), it tells an amusing tale and it has mighty hooks. From Steve Michener’s signature bass line to the slashing guitars that punctuate things throughout to the big, big chorus, it’s a real keeper. Waleik writes in the liner notes to Supercluster that it should have been the band’s big FM single, but Michener seems more realistic: “It was almost six minutes long. Who did we think we were, Gordon Lightfoot?”

The next handful of songs are fine, all good in their own way and more than carried off thanks to solid performance, but there is a bit of fall off after that one-two punch. Waleik’s “Insane Girl” is a searing guitar workout in need of one more strong hook, while “Bonnie,” a sweet love song from Goffrier that centers on the fact that his significant other has a “big back yard” continues the band’s penchant for left field lyrics.

Perhaps the cleverest song on the album is “Hey! Mr. Lincoln,” which finds Goffrier and Waleik’s guitars tussling playfully to create a swirling tapestry over a great drum pattern from Jeff Oliphant. Lyrically, the song is fantastic. Abraham Lincoln, it seems, has some troubles, so Big Dipper buys him a beer: “What’s the skinny, man?” they ask, thus launching one of many bits of wordplay. His music is “the mystic chords of memory, the splitting sound that railed,” while they ask later, “Why the long face?”

It ends with “Bells of Love,” a rocking number with a great Waleik guitar solo, and “A Song to Be Beautiful,” a seeming rallying cry with the chorus, “for a song to be beautiful the artist must be free.” All tongue in cheek if the liner notes are to be believed. Michener reports that a “serious band” took the chorus as its motto, unaware that Waleik was “goofing on people who read grandiose messages into rock music. It’s a raucous close to a refined album.

Bonus tracks here include “He Is God,” a catchy tune first found on the Human Music compilation from Homestead Records, and “Guitar Named Desire,” a manic surf instrumental, as well as a demo of “Ron Klaus” recorded on Waleik’s reel-to-reel “atop my Brookline aerie… Life was so simple in 1987.”

Steve Michener: I think this has some great songs on it but it feels more disjointed than Heavens. I liked the louder production. I remember being thrilled to be in a studio with carpet and a bathroom. We were using two producers who were working tag team. That was interesting. “Ron Klaus” sounds great. I wish I had that bass sound on all the songs.

Bill Goffrier: The band had been on the road a lot, and did not have the wealth of material ready when Craps was recorded. Gary dug back into his song stash for “Song to Be Beautiful,” Michael Cudahy gave Steve some lyrical help to create “Stardom Because,” and Gary helped me polish up an old Embarrassment idea that was supposed to be Neil Young-style anthem about our friend Ron Klaus.

Monday: Band interview
Tuesday: Boo-Boo/Heavens
Thursday: Slam

Labels: Big Dipper Week, music

When I saw Alejandro Escovedo perform two weeks ago, it was a stripped-down affair. He and David Pulkingham performed a mostly quiet set on acoustic guitars, even venturing into the crowd for a few hushed songs.

That was nice, but Escovedo got a noisy boost last night, hopping up on stage with Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band in Houston for a run through his great new song, "Always a Friend to You." The Boss seems giddy, singing (and tastefully slurring through the parts he didn't remember) along as Escovedo leads the band through the tune. Too bad the album on which it will appear, Real Animal, doesn't appear for a couple of months. At least this ought to turn a few more people on to this vastly underrated talent.

Labels: music

Each day for the rest of Big Dipper Week, I'll take a look at a phase of the band's career. First up: The Boo-Boo EP and the Heavens LP. Both are included on the first disc of the new Supercluster 3-CD anthology on Merge Records.

From the get-go, it was clear that Big Dipper might offer a lot of different things, but humongous hooks would be front and center. From the opening slash and burn of guitar from Bill Goffrier and Gary Waleik, each swooping and diving around and through the lines of the other while Steve Michener’s bass and Jeff Oliphant’s drums drive the tune’s insistent beat, “Faith Healer” reveals itself to be a tremendous song. Then comes Goffrier’s vocal, an urgent, high-pitched declaration: “Dealing with the faith healer and trusting in the palm reader.” Noisy sing-alongs aside, the song also pointed out the fact that Big Dipper lyrics would not be restricted to the typical “moon/June” constructions. Such terrestrial fixations would not elude the band; they’d just be expressed in more creative – and somewhat strange – fashion.

The entirety of the Boo-Boo EP flies by in a brisk 17 minutes, its six songs setting the template for what was to come. It’s ragged and, according to Waleik’s liner notes to the new Supercluster anthology, abbreviated. Writing about an early version of the song “San Quentin, CA,” he says, “An earlier version from our first recording session, the same on that yielded ‘Faith Healer,’ ‘Loch Ness’ Monster,’ ‘Ancers,’ ‘Lou Gehrig’s Disease,’ ‘You’re Not Patsy’ and ‘Which Would You Rather?’ Homestead wunderkinds Gerard Cosloy and Craig Marks were disappointed that we didn’t include all of those on Boo-Boo. Sorry, guys. We never meant to make your lives difficult… honest.” The last three songs Waleik mentions are bonus tracks on this disc, at least two of which didn’t appear during the band’s original lifespan.

Steve Michener: (Boo-Boo is not a real EP but a collection of songs recorded at various times. But still I like the diversity and the sound quality.

Bill Goffrier: Those projects were just good fun. “Boob”(Boo-Boo) was done very democratically with the concept that Dipper was a songwriting forum for Gary, Steve and I. Jeff, “The Kid” was not a main writer.

The Heavens LP appeared just months later, and while the sound is largely the same, the performances are more assured, the songwriting stronger. It is Big Dipper’s acknowledged classic, a solid album with monumental highlights in “She’s Fetching” and “All Going Out Together.” In what would be a sad constant for the band, these incredibly catchy songs ventured no farther than the playlists of college radio stations. In the liner notes, Michener admits, “I always thought (‘She’s Fetching’) would be a big radio hit for us. I was wrong.”

Beyond those two towering achievements are a lot of songs that are fantastic in their own right. There is the jaunty “Man ’O War,” the hard-charging “Easter Eve” (with a bass line conjured when Michener attempted to figure out the line from the Minutemen’s “Courage”) and Waleik’s hooky “Lunar Module.” The absurdist bent to the band’s lyrics remains, including “When Men Were Trains” (penned by Christmas frontman Michael Cudahy) and Waleik’s “Mr. Woods,” who “can’t see the trees for himself.”

Bill Goffrier: Heavens stretched the band’s concept to include more collaboration between writers, and even outside writers in the case of Michael Cudahy, our friend from the band Christmas. Michael even filled in for Gary at a live gig once.

Steve Michener: Heavens was our first real album and my favorite. When we were putting it together after writing all the songs I noticed a theme of space and stars and religious thru the disc so I suggested heavens as a title to pull it all together. There was a push and pull in the band b/w pop elements and noise elements. I’m glad we remastered this because the original sounds muffled and that snare drum sound is awful.

Monday: Band interview
Wednesday: Craps.

Labels: Big Dipper Week, music

When I put out the call to Merge Records that I'd like to interview someone from Big Dipper, I did what I usually do: put together some questions, e-mailed them off, and waited for someone to respond. I heard back from guitarist and singer Gary Waleik, and figured I was done. Then I heard from the other guitarist and singer, Bill Goffrier... and then drummer Jeff Oliphant, and finally from bassist Steve Michener. All were eager to talk about the band and its new, 3CD 50-song set, Supercluster.

That, in an of itself, is unique. When bands break up, it seems rare to find all of the original members happy about the past, friendly with one another and enthusiastic about responding to interview questions. Then again, it should be no surprise. Big Dipper -- or, "the Dippah" or "Big Diaper," as the members referred to themselves at various points during our exchanges -- was a fun band, and its members seemed very much to be having the most fun of all. They continue to do so, expressing affection and appreciation for each other and generally carrying on the way longtime friends do. Heck, they even take time to coin terms like "obleeky."

Big Dipper was an indie rock supergroup before there was such a thing. Waleik and Michener came from the Volcano Suns (and Michener also from Dumptruck), while Goffrier had been in the Embarrassment. Given that family tree, the resulting fruit was somewhat predictable: A skewed pop sensibility delivered with fuzzy guitars and an insistent beat. They debuted in 1986 with the six-song EP, Boo-Boo (which included the fantastically frenetic single, "Faith Healer,") followed quickly by the debut LP, Heavens. That one is considered their best by most, and is certainly their most consistent. Standouts like "All Going Out Together" and "She's Fetching (mp3)" are certainly classics, but the rest of the songs here are more than worthy in their presence.

Craps, which came in 1988, is where I came in. I still remember picking it up on cassette at the local record shop on the recommendation of a friend behind the counter who knew I'd love it. I did, and took the chance to see the oft-touring group the couple of times they came through town in support.

Slam followed. At the time, the major label bow seemed overblown and a bit weak. In hindsight, while there is some filler that sounds rushed, there are a lot of good songs here that probably suffer from the slick production. Though it was the first of an improbable eight-album contract, the poor reception doomed the band. Waleik and Goffrier soldiered on after Michener and Oliphant split, but a single ("Approach of a Human Being" b/w "The Beast") was the final whimper.

Fast forward nearly 20 years, and the band is back with Supercluster. The fine folks at Merge saw fit to offer all of the band's non-major label music at a bargain price, and anyone who likes strong hooks, clever wordplay and aural fun would be foolish not to make the investment.

For an much more detailed Big Dipper history, check out Joe Harvard's excellent write up at his Boston Rock Storybook web site.

What follows is part of the responses to my initial questions to the band. The rest will be spread over the rest of what I have proclaimed Big Dipper Week, as I look at the b