Bonnie “Prince” Billy & the Phantom Family Halo: I Want Love to Eat My Mind

 

It’s a simple equation: for instant creepy backwoods elegance, just add Will Oldham (a.k.a. Bonnie “Prince” Billy). Oldham has found a worthy collaborator in Phantom Family Halo helmer Dominic Cipolla. On their 4-song EP, The Mindeater, Cipolla and the Phantom Family Halo construct huge, echoing warehouse chambers of sound for Oldham’s voice to travel in and out of, creating music that is simultaneously ethereal and dark.

Check out the outstanding title track.

 

 

The Mindeater CD (a limited-edition vinyl version was released in May) will be available September 27, which is also the day the Phantom Family Halo begin a tour with Bonnie “Prince” Billy down in Nelsonville, Ohio.

Tue Sep 27 – Nelsonville OH – Stuart’s Opera House
Wed Sep 28 – York PA – Capitol Theater
Sun Oct 02 – Alexandria VA – The Birchmere
Tue Oct 04 – Knoxville TN – Bijou Theatre
Wed Oct 05 – Marshall NC – Marshall High Studios
Thu Oct 06 – Wilmington NC – The Soapbox
Sun Oct 09 – Louisville KY – The Clifton Center

Bonnie “Prince” Billy & the Phantom Family Halo Official Website

Ones to Watch: Barry

Barry is a folk-rock band from Hume, New York, made up of three brothers: Patrick Barry (guitar/harmonica), Benjamin Barry (bass), and Bradford Barry (drums). Barry formed in 2011, in the wake of Patrick and Benjamin’s former alt-rock band, Navar.

Here are some reasons why I am extremely fond of their very first EP, Yawnin’ in the Dawnin’, presented in no particular order:

 

1) The title song, which has beautiful harmonies, sounds remarkably like a sea chantey. I love sea chanteys. I especially love sea chanteys about being very tired and wishing one had gone to bed earlier because that is me and my incorrigible accidental nocturnal tendencies to the bone.

 

2) The third song, Carnival(e) has a killer creepy sideshow Nightmare Before Christmas vibe, and they made a video for it, which also celebrates their upstate New York roots:

 

 

3) Drink One More, a song which features three carefully intertwined birth stories – one of my favorite genres of personal narrative – and is generally an exhortation to have one more drink and tell one more story, one for the road in both cases. I’m not much for beer but I do love a good yarn, and as far as I am concerned there are few finer pleasures than an evening of friends sharing stories.

 

4) Great Unknown, a song about second chances, which sketches a whole relationship in a series of tiny but telling details. It’s also about telling someone I don’t know where we’re going but I want to go there with you.

 

5) The harmonies, which I am bringing up again because they are in every song, not just the title track. Finally, these gentlemen have a lot of rock in their folk-rock, which is also a thing I appreciate.

Yawnin’ in the Dawnin’ is their first record, but evidently there is more coming soon! If you like what you hear, you can keep up with their adventures via Facebook.

 

Caryn Rose: B-Sides and Broken Hearts

 

Lisa Simon, age 37, still loves loud punk rock and hates Dave Matthews with an all-consuming passion. So begins the synopsis of Caryn Rose’s first novel, B-Sides and Broken Hearts. If this book is for you, you know it just from that sentence. You’ve already heard the click of recognition and know you’re about to read the story of a kindred spirit.

For the rest of you, let me put it to you this way: B-Sides and Broken Hearts is like High Fidelity for female music nerds. I mean big music nerds. The ones you know in school who always wore band T-shirts, who tried to sneak their Walkman/Discman/mp3 player to class, whose locker and bedroom was papered with band posters, who camped out for concert tickets, who spent hours in records stores on the weekends and cried when the tape recorder ate their favorite cassette/favorite CD became too scratched to play/computer ate their mp3s. But moreover, these are the music nerds who never “grew out of it”. They may have flirted with being “normal” – took a desk job, toned down their wardrobe, tried dating a guy with a steady job. But the nerd streak never went away. They went on to start bands themselves, to work for bands, to start record labels, write for music rags, run music blogs…

The moment I knew Lisa Simon was one of my tribe happened in the first few pages, when Lisa fights with her soon-to-be-ex boyfriend over the significance of the death of Joey Ramone.

“Lisa, I’m sorry, yes, it’s sad, but–it’s not the greatest loss ever endured by the music world that the author of ‘Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue’ is no longer with us.” He pronounces the song title in artificial, clipped tones.

“That was Dee Dee,” I say, automatically. It was like Tourette’s or something. I honestly couldn’t stop myself.

I know that particular affliction well, and she’s right: it is like Tourette’s.

Now, not only is B-Sides a first novel, but it’s also a pretty DIY effort and, as such, can feel a little rough around the edges at times. But this works as a strength for the book, enhancing the feeling that, instead of reading a novel, you’re in conversation with a good friend who really gets it, a music-obsessive soulmate.

And as with a good friend, watching her go out and do what you’ve long dreamed of doing is inspiring and galvanizing. I’d like to put this book into the hands of teen girl music nerds to give them faith that their dreams are not silly, wrong or unobtainable. They are well within reach, perhaps now more than ever.

B-Sides and Broken Hearts Official Website

Caryn Rose Official Website

A Conversation with Austin Lucas, Part II

NTSIB friend Michelle Evans (Dear Ben Nichols, The Vinyl District: Washington, D.C.) concludes her conversation with Austin Lucas. If you’re in Seattle, you can catch both Austin and Drag the River this Friday at SoundFest

 


 

It seems both Austin Lucas and I are quite the chatty pair, which is great for y’all, because we discuss the country music scene, Lucero, Cory Branan, and everything in between.

So what are your thoughts on country music?

I listen to a lot of country radio. I appreciate the songwriting, even though most people hate the songwriting, but I listen to it, and I’m like, “This is so catchy. This person is such a clever, intelligent songwriter.” What a lot of people don’t understand about pop music, in order for something to stay with someone after hearing it one time, it has to be extremely catchy. The average music listener isn’t really a music fan. They want image. They want to lust after somebody who’s a star. So the thing is, if you don’t reel them in with a really, really catchy hook, they’re not interested. Trust me, writing really, really dumb and catchy stuff is a lot harder than you think. There’s a certain amount of genius that goes into doing that. A lot of people are hateful towards pop music and very spiteful, and the way I feel about it is, it’s there, but you don’t have to pay attention to it or give money to it, and maybe spend less time being upset about that stuff and more time discovering bands that are worth giving money to and are great. On the other hand, as a songwriter, I just respect the fact that people can do that. And, I mean, who are we kidding? Everyone likes a certain amount of that stuff.

Yeah, there seems to be some pretentiousness out there with certain groups of people regarding pop music or music on mainstream radio.

Yeah, it’s like this pretentiousness exists in people to be nit-picky. When I was young, and I think when everyone’s young, and we’re first exposed to music, everything they hear, they like, pretty much. I used to see the shittiest bands just because they were local and they played kind of the style that I liked. Any band that came on tour, I would go see. Anything I could get into at the all-ages clubs, I’d see. Or a house show, I was there. I would just sit in the record store and be that annoying guy asking what’s good. The point that I’m getting at is that as we get older, we get so pretentious. Our tastes get refined, and we learn to be pretentious, because everyone else is pretentious. I’m guilty of it too. We all are at some point, but the truth is, I feel like I have to have an opinion about all the music out there, even if I don’t really care either way about it. I hate the fact that I’m like that – that I’m the way that I hate how people are.

You just came off Willie Nelson’s Country Throwdown. What were some of the highlights?

Everything was a highlight at the Throwdown, but I think that the biggest highlight was probably the first night that I went on stage and sang with Willie Nelson. I just remember how it felt. It’s weird. I did it seven times. I was definitely counting, because that’s what you do when something that spectacular is happening to you. But the first time that I did it, it was in Arkansas, and Travis from Last chance Records – my record label boss – was there as well as my wife, so it was so cool to run out on stage and be like, “I’m doing this, and these people that I care about are here!” And I looked over, and Willie Nelson’s there, and I swear to god, and everyone told me I was crazy, but I swear he looked over at me with a look that said, “What the fuck is this fucking freak dude doing on the fucking stage right now?” [laughs] I mean, because for the first week of that tour – and this is no joke – everybody thought that I was on the crew, because it’s Warped Tour personnel, so all the stage managers and lighting people and tour managers are all punks and all tattooed, so everyone just assumed that I was part of that menagerie of the circus. It took a long time before everyone realized I was a performer.

Did that make you feel extra special?

Well, it made me feel very special in a lot of ways, but it also made me feel like an outsider, which I was. The people I performed with were great, but there were press people specifically who had no desire to talk to me and who were talking down to me. They’d cut interviews short or say really rude things to me like, “So you’re not part of the country music scene.” And I was like, “Actually, I’m part of the alternative country scene which most people would probably argue is more like country music than the country music you’re talking about,” and he countered with, “Well, you’re not in Nashville. You’re not going to be on the radio,” and I’d just be like, “Yup. That’s true.” I dunno, it was funny for me, because I don’t take things that seriously, so I would just make jokes about it usually. There were some really nice press people too, though, who saw me as a good story. You know, the guy who’s not from Nashville and who doesn’t live in Nashville and not part of the corporate country music establishment, and yet I still have a career, and I’ve toured Europe, so a lot of the people from the press were excited to talk to me. It was just kind of a mixed bag, and I really just thought it was all funny. What was really funny is that I always get that I’m “too country” in the punk world, so it was funny going into the country world and be told I’m not “country enough.” [laughs]

You started out in the crust-punk scene with your band Guided Cradle, which is as metal as punk can get, and now you play folk/country music. I’m interested to know who some of the bands are whom you admire or of whom you are a fan.

Well, one of the bands is Lucero. And I know a lot of people love Lucero, and I know a lot of people hate Lucero, but the truth is – and I don’t think there’s anybody who would disagree with this on either side – but Lucero really were a game-changer. They fought to become as popular as they are, and that’s probably why they’re going to be popular until they decide to call it quits or until they die. Every single fucking fan that they ever had, they had to fight for. They won them by constant fucking touring. You know, they were playing country music in a scene [the punk scene] that was totally not interested in it, and in a lot of ways, made people interested in it. I think that a lot of the interest that happened in country music and roots music in the 2000s happened as a result of Lucero hitting the scene and working their ass off. I mean, there are a lot of other factors, but I think they are a very heavily influential band and a very important band, and if someone who’s not a dick writes a book about the scene one day, if they don’t give Lucero all those props, then they’re leaving them out because they personally have a pretentious idea of what is and what isn’t important. Them and Drag the River, actually, are both important.

Anyone else?

Cory Branan is another one. He is probably the best songwriter of my peers. And I don’t think that – I know that that’s true. The guy is a fucking genius. He’s a great performer. I hold him in such a high regard. He’s definitely one of the genre’s unsung heroes.

Last but not least, tell me about your current tour.

The first two weeks are just headline shows with my back-up band, The Bold Party. Then we’re main support on tour with Reverend Peyton’s Big Damn Band who is from Brown County in Indiana, right next to Monroe County, which is where Bloomington is, which is where I’m from. They have a lot of days off, so the days off are going to be filled with more headline shows. Basically, it’s half a support tour and half a headline tour. It’s gonna be awesome, because I’m going to be out with people from my home turf.

 

 

 

Austin Lucas Official Website

Austin Lucas @ Facebook

Austin Lucas @ Twitter

A Conversation with Austin Lucas, Part I

We continue our interviews from good NTSIB friend Michelle Evans (of Dear Ben Nichols and The Vinyl District: Washington, D.C.) with the first part of her chat with the lovely Mr. Austin Lucas. Check out Austin, Drag the River and many more at SoundFest in Seattle, which starts today and runs through Sunday.

 


 

I was able to catch up with Austin Lucas just after his tour with Willie Nelson’s Country Throwdown. We talked about punk rock. We talked about bluegrass. We talked about the music industry. We talked so much, in fact, that we’re splitting his interview over today and tomorrow, when we’ll resume talking about things like his current tour with Reverend Peyton’s Big Damn Band, his experience with the Country Throwdown, and Cory mother-fuckin’ Branan.

I’m of the ilk that while I want the people I love making music to do well and sell records, I wouldn’t wish fame on anyone. It just seems like the worst fate imaginable to me (but that’s just me). One of the things I appreciate most about you is your accessibility. Is that something you make a point of doing?

Sometimes I feel like when I’m doing a show, I’m there to see the people at the show and not the other way around. I try to be as open and interactive with my fans as possible, personally. The thing is, it’s not like any of us are famous, you know. I mean, some of us more than others. But even if you go see the stuff that you love in an up to 500 capacity venue, and even if it is sold out, that’s 500 people in that town, and if you think about what it’s actually like to be famous, it’s like being in awe. I mean, being at this level allows a certain amount of interaction, and that’s a beautiful thing about it. You can still be interactive, and you can actually become friends with the people who listen to your music rather than have just a bunch of nameless faces that are buying your product.

Though buying your product is great. You deserve to make a living doing something you love. Some people hold a viewpoint that opposes that, and I don’t understand where that comes from.

I think there are a lot of people who frown upon it. I don’t personally care for those folks, especially the band folks that pretend that’s not what they want and kind of cast off people the more popular they get. That’s always been something that’s really bothered me personally. You know, everyone wants to be popular, and everyone’s gonna ride it as far as it’ll take them. I mean, not everyone wants to be mega-famous, but people want fans at their shows. I mean, it’s depressing to show up in a town and have nobody there. Absolutely nobody fucking wants that, and, you know, I think that it’s a really interesting dichotomy that, like, it’s okay of 200 people come and see you, but it’s not okay if 500 people come and see you, or it’s not okay if a thousand people come and see you?

I’m not gonna lie. As a fan, do I love it when I go to a show, and there are only, say, five other people there? Sure. Yeah, that totally rocks for me, but I understand that it may not necessarily rock for the band trying to make a living.

I mean, it can be really, really fun, depending on the situation, but if you’re talking about making a living and the repercussions of there only being six people at a show, there’s more going on than a lot of people think about. There’s the fact that you’re probably making less money or making no money, and there’s a guarantee, and there’s a promoter, and they lost a bunch of money on it. The odds of them doing another show for you go down dramatically. Also, the odds of other promoters doing a show for you also go down dramatically. Trust me, I know, because that’s my life.

So how did you start playing music?

I’m naturally a very lazy human being, which is why I’m a musician in a lot of ways. You know, because I had no interest in going to school, and it was the only thing I was naturally, predisposed to being good at, and I’d already been playing music my whole life, since I was a little child, so I just kind of fell into it. It was kind of, like, well, what can I do that requires the minimal amount of effort with the most payback? All right, well, I’ll play music. I’m gonna keep doing that. It’s fun, and I was always good at it. I mean, maybe not the greatest in the world or anything like that, but it was something I was always decent at.

Personally, I’m a huge fan of the bluegrass influence in your music.

Well, I’m definitely not at all real bluegrass. I mean, I definitely have bluegrass influences and stuff like that, but as a genre, serious bluegrass fans would definitely not call me bluegrass. The only people who ever do are people who don’t really know but maybe hear the banjos and the fiddles and call it bluegrass. Bluegrass is a very, very specific style of music, and I might utilize a lot of the motifs that are involved, and I’m definitely very heavily influenced by bluegrass, but more honestly by mountain music. That’s really more of what inspires me, at least for my first several records.

That’s true, which is why I said “influence.” [laughs]

I’m used to people calling me bluegrass, and I’m always like “uh-uh”. For me, I’m just immediately like, “Nope.” Honestly, I like to educate people musically, which is why if somebody asks me what I do, I always say, “I’m a folk singer,” or “I’m a country singer.” I consider all of it to be folk music, truthfully. I consider everything that’s made by people that aren’t fucking, like, ridiculously wealthy to be folk music. [laughs] And I know that’s, like, a poor dude being biased against rich people, which admittedly, I kind of am. [laughs]

So I’m curious then, how did you find punk rock?

I’m from southern Indiana. We had a rock station that back in the 80s and 90s played what we consider to be classic rock now, but they were pretty diverse. They had a radio show on Thursday nights called “Brave New World”, and it was all punk and all alternative, college rock stuff. I’m from Bloomington, which is a university town, and I grew up about six miles outside of the city in the woods, but the county seat is Bloomington, so I’m going to school there and going to shows and stuff like that. We have record stores. I was very lucky in that regard. I mean, our record store may not have carried everything, but it carried enough to give me a pretty good musical education as far as stuff outside of what was on the radio. I also have an older brother seven years older than me, and he was into punk, so that’s how I got into it. The first shows that I went to were scary. You didn’t know what was gonna happen. There was always crazy fights, and being 12 years old and seeing a circle pit and trying to get in it is pretty intense. [laughs]

 

 

 

Austin Lucas Official Website

Austin Lucas @ Facebook

Austin Lucas @ Twitter

A Conversation with Jon Snodgrass of Drag the River

 

NTSIB’s dear friend Michelle Evans of Dear Ben Nichols and The Vinyl District: Washington, D.C. has graciously allowed us to share her recent interviews with Jon Snodgrass of Drag the River and, tomorrow, the lovely Mr. Austin Lucas. Catch both gentlemen at SoundFest in Seattle, Washington, August 17-21.

 


 

Drag the River have been one of my favorite bands for quite some time, so imagine how stoked I was to hear they are selling their albums in a “Pay What You Can” style. On top of that, they’re back on tour and joining the likes of Lucero, Austin Lucas, and Larry & His Flask at this year’s SoundFest in Seattle. Catch ’em while you can.

So what made you decide to sell the entire Drag the River catalog in a “Pay What You Can” style?

To be honest with you, the only jobs I ever had, ya know, that I never got fired from, were record stores for years – two or three different ones – and it always seemed weird to me, CDs cost $13.99, $15.99, but once it gets unwrapped and comes back, ya know, records are only worth the music that’s on them. I don’t know if I’m explaining myself right.

I know what you mean. I’ve sold back CDs that I’ve paid $15-$20.00 for, and I’m getting, like two bucks for them, because maybe it wasn’t the most stellar CD, but if you’re selling back Jawbreaker, for instance, or Lucero’s Tennessee, which is out of print, ya know, you can get mad money for those.

Exactly. Speaking of which, I gotta signed copy of that record.

Jealous! I’ve got Tennessee on vinyl, but it’s not signed. I’ll have to work on that. So you were saying…

Oh yeah… It’s just people have different amounts of money, and I’m fine with whatever, and all those records that we made, that we’re putting up right now, they’re in the black. I’m not saying we made a lot of money off them, but I mean, we don’t owe money on them. Everything’s done, so we can afford to do that, and I see what everyone pays, and I’m fine with every amount that comes through. I mean, it’s a wide difference. People give what they can. Bands don’t really get paid that much on their records, so it all works out, and we’re gonna use that money to make our next record. We have to pay for our own records. We have to pay our own way.

And you’ve done that all along?

We haven’t done it all along. I mean, we’ve done it a lot. We’ve done it to a degree, and we’ve definitely done it more than a lot of people, probably. There are definitely some records we’ve tried to do it with, and then it got to the point where it just got a little too expensive, and then there would be record labels that we’d be working with that were always there ready to pay.

Do you find that there’s more artistic freedom when you pay for it yourself?

No, it’s just the sense of pride of owning your own thing and doing it yourself and not having to ask anyone for money, and just doing it. It’s mainly that and also legally, it’s just your stuff, and no one can ever claim it. We’ve been doing this a long time and know how things are supposed to be done, so it’s easier if we just pay for it ourselves too. And it’s weird, ya know, sometimes what you spend almost nothing on ends up being the best. Ya know, sometimes you end up using that demo you made for some song that you ended up spending thousands of dollars to record, and it’s like, I know we wasted a lot of studio time on this, but I like this one, and I know it’s out of tune, and I know I sang that really bad right there, but I don’t care. I like this one better, because it has the heart. But then there’s the vice versa too. That happens too. Ya never know, you just gotta be open.

Will you be recording the songs from the 2010 Demons?

We’re gonna do some of them. I think we’re gonna do “History with History.” We’re gonna do “Here’s to the Losers.” Ya know, Chad and I write alone a lot, but these songs are more collaborative. Some of them, like “Here’s to the Losers,” have been sitting around for five years and just needed a bridge and then were ready to go.

So you’re from Missouri, which surprised me, because I don’t feel like you sound like you’re from there. Sometimes you sound very Southern.

It’s funny you say that, because some people – and I’ve read this before – but some people think in the Americana genre that, like, we’re pretending – that we’re not really Americana. It’s not something I come across all the time, but I’ve heard it before, and I’m like, “Are you fucking kidding me?” [laughs] It’s like, why would I pretend to be something that doesn’t make money? But nowadays, there are people trying to make music like we make music, but we’ve been doing it a long time. We started recording our first Drag the River songs in 1996.

I think one of the things that make Drag the River unique are your vocals. Both you and Chad have very distinctive voices. I also care a lot about lyrics. If I can’t understand the words being sung, I don’t usually stick around to hear the message.

Yeah, I think that’s what we got going. Me and Chad work really good together. It’s funny. I used to not care about lyrics. I cared about melody more than lyrics a long time ago, before I made records. I didn’t care as much in the beginning, but I care more about lyrics every year. It’s more and more important to me.

So when can we listen to those beautiful voices live then?

Our show page is finally up on dragtheriver.com. We’re coming east and going to Canada and all kinds of other places August through November, and we’re playing SoundFest in Seattle.

How do y’all do in Canada?

It goes pretty good. It’s kind of weird, ya know. It’s sort of like being in a different country. [laughs] Honestly, I love it up there. It’s great. We’ve just slacked in the United States forever. We don’t even try, but up there and in Europe, it’s a totally different game. We actually do things like radio interviews, which here, we don’t hustle for things anymore. We have a very “take it or leave it” attitude about everything we do. We try not to over-do anything.

 

 

 

Drag the River Official Website

Drag the River @ Bandcamp

Drag the River @ Facebook

SoundFest Official Website

Introducing: Chris Marshall

Chris Marshall is from Portland, Oregon. As the son of a preacher that founded his own church, Marshall grew up with religion at home and even played and led the church’s music.  Then, after several years of floating around the indie music scene, Marshall gave himself an ultimatum: make a record before you turn 30. With help from bassist Allen Hunter (The Eels), drummer Ezra Holbrook (The Decemberists), and pedal steel player Paul Brainard (Richmond Fontaine), he made it just under the wire, releasing August Light in 2010, at age 29.

The record has a strong country core with ribbons of western swirling through the bottom and indie-rock grace notes on the top. It’s a complex and fascinating mix, and after a couple of listens I decided I wanted to know more about the man behind the sound. Here’s what I asked, and what I found out:

 

What were you doing, musically, before you decided it was time to fish or cut bait, as it were, and make a solo record? Did you jump directly from church music to a more secular concept, or was it a gradual shifting?

I’ve been going at it solo from the outset, so it was just a matter of timing when I decided to finally go in and make a full-length/fully-realized studio record. I’d done a number of recording sessions before, just sort of working out a style and sound that I felt was sort of my own. I got to the point where I felt I was sitting on a really strong batch of songs, so it was just a matter of executing a studio recording that would frame those songs in the best shape possible.

And as far as the distinction between church music and secular, I’ve never really felt compelled to make one in terms of the music I write and perform. Art is art to me, and I like to think music is still art, even though it has more baggage than other artistic mediums. I think there is definitely a specific type of art and a style of music that is directly written for the church, what we might call “liturgical” music in the Christian tradition.

I’ve definitely recorded some gospel music, but I don’t see myself in that role as an artist. And what is commonly called “christian music” is just an industry definition, and I’m not comfortable at all taking what I do and calling it that. If it deserves any classification, it’s just American music, and I’m just an artist who borrows from that medium, whether it’s gospel, country, blues, folk, or rock and roll.

 

How did your family react to you choosing secular music?

If I’m doing something I believe in and am working hard at it, my family is always behind me. And there is no one more supportive than my folks. I doubt if the thought of whether or not what I sing is “secular” or “christian” ever crosses their mind. I wasn’t raised in a home where faith was something rigid or oppressive. It was always presented to me as a really beautiful and heartfelt thing, and music was always central to that.

 

How did you meet the musicians who worked with you on the record?

Jeremy Wilson produced the record, and his ties to the Portland music scene are pretty deep, from his time with the Dharma Bums in the late-80’s, early 90’s. When we started talking about the sound we’d go for, he keyed in on some of the guys he thought would knock it out, and luckily they all we’re free and able to get behind it. Paul Brainard plays pedal steel for Richmond Fontaine, who is a Portland band that I’ve admired for a really long time. They were the first 21+ show I ever saw, and I’ve been a huge fan ever since.

So he played steel on the record and did the string arrangments, which are really the highlight of the album for me (“For Too Long Now” and “Everytime the Wind Blows”). Allen Hunter played bass, and he’s just a stud; plays in a band called Kleveland, and tours occasionally with the Eels. In fact, he’s doing a world tour with them this summer.

And Ezra Holbrook, who played drums, is just a boss all around. He was the first drummer for the Decemberists, plays now with Casey Neill and the Norway Rats and is the lead MC for a local band called Dr. Theopolis. He does some killer songwriting and performing solo as well, has a new record out right now actually. The other elements were done by close friends of mine who I’ve worked with before either in the studio or live.

 

What were some of the specific challenges that you had to climb over to get to the point where you were ready to make the record?

I’d actually go back 6 or 7 years ago to a season in my life where I had just started recovering from really the darkest possible period I hope I ever have to go through. And I just had a really simple goal which was to keep writing songs and to eventually cut an album that I could look at and call good before I turned thirty.

It was really just trial and error from there, but a few years later when I was continuing to experiment with songwriting, I just got a strong, organic sense that it was time to really go for it. I wasn’t playing out or anything at that point, but it’s the moment where I started to. And when this particular record started coming together the way it did, with the group of songs and the effort going into it, I came to a really fulfilling realization that I’d set a goal and reached it.

 

Your sound is an interesting mix of country and western and indie-pop. Which artists would you say influenced the development of that sound?

The country elements come straight from the giants: Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard, Kris Kristofferson, and on into George Strait and some of the contemporary artists I really like, such as Ryan Adams and Hayes Carll and even big-time guys like Zac Brown Band and Brad Paisley. This is where I’d throw Bob Dylan into that mix as well. And Neil Diamond, for fun. And Elvis Presley kind of presides over everything as far I’m concerned. In general though, I’m just a music hound.

I get in deep to just about every flavor there is and I can talk shop with just about anyone on any genre. I actually probably listen these days to more gangster rap than anything else. But as far as the indie streak, I’m pulling from bands I grew up copping, like Sunny Day Real Estate, Mineral, Flaming Lips, and even awesome-era U2.

I saw Arcade Fire’s first show in Portland when they opened up for Ted Leo and the Phamarcists back in 2004, and I’ve been a huge fan ever since. Their whole presentation and approach is really refreshing and inspiring, and there are nods to that influence in a few different spots on the record.

 

And then the traditional three:

What was your transformative song – the rock and roll lightning strike – and why?

Goodness. I’d have to really meditate on that for a few days before I could really say for sure. But I’m gonna go with Elvis’ “American Trilogy.”  That performance puts the fear of God in me everytime I hear it. It’s shockingly epic, and the footage I have seen of him performing it live, with the orchestra and the Stamps singing back up; it’s just terrifyingly brilliant. The greatest vocal performance I know of.

 

What was your first show (that you went to, not that you played)?

The first real “show” I ever went to, which is different in my mind from what I think of as “concerts” in an arena, was a So.Cal. punk band called The Blamed in the basement of an old church building in Southeast Portland that was called The Push. I still remember thinking of the ringing in my ears as my own personal badge of honor for like two days afterwards. I felt like I’d passed through some kind of labyrinth, you know?

I have a photo I recently found that I had forced my brother to take soon after that show. I’m dressed exactly like the lead singer of the Blamed, with cut off Dickies and a “wife-beater,” as they were so unfortunately called, and black Converse low-tops with the star logo on the side.

I had made this fake microphone, and I did this punk rock jump/kick thing just like him, but my jump was off the washer and drier in our garage. Not exactly as cool as jumping off the kick drum. I put the picture on my fridge after I found it so I can always be reminded that, at my core, I’m really just a big poser.

 

What was the first record you bought? What was the last one?

I can’t really pick out a first from the abundance of cassette tapes and cassette singles we had around, but I do remember the first two compact discs my brother and I brought home when we got our first CD player. Oddly enough, one of them was the Blamed’s album on Tooth and Nail Records called “21,” and the other was Weezer’s Blue album. We were pretty sure that record wasn’t punk at all, but I don’t think anyone at my age at the time could resist the hits on that album.

The last record I bought probably won’t tell you much about me as an artist. It’s just a mixtape by former Roc-A-Fella artists Freeway and Beanie Sigel, and I got it so I could hear Sigel’s Jay-Z diss (even though I love Hova), and because they are two of my all time favorites.

Probably a more relevant one to highlight is the second to last record I bought, which was Ryan Adams and the Cardinal’s new double-album “III/IV.” I wasn’t sure I’d like it because his cheeky rock stuff has never been my favorite, but it’s actually one of his best in my book.

 

Finally, here he is with “I Found You”, live in Portland:

http://youtu.be/DYhPQFYrSoA

Hymns: You’re the Best That I Can Be

The Band: Hymns

The Blurb: Athiest two-piece formed from the remains of Blakfish, this Midlands duo is less emo and more aggro.

The Video:

Hymns – A Punch To The Temple from Luke David Bather on Vimeo.

The Release: Hymns’ first release,due out August 22, is a 4-song live DVD called Revelations that will give a taste of their full-length debut slated for October. It’s available for pre-order at Big Scary Monsters and Function Records.

The Gigs:

29th July – Derby, The Old Bell Inn W/ Shoes And Socks Off

30th July -Leeds, Nation Of Shopkeepers W/ Shoes And Socks Off

10th August – Leicester, Firebug W/ Tall Ships

Hymns @ Tumblr

The Soul of John Black: I Got a Good Thang

I seem to have idiosyncratic taste in music as it is difficult for most people to recommend music to me. But Rick Saunders (of Deep Blues notoriety) is apparently just as weird as I am because when he tells me, “You’re going to love this”, I can be confident that he’s right. Recently, Rick turned me on to the Soul of John Black, and when I say “turned me on”, I mean it in a couple of different ways.

The first album from the Soul of John Black – which is the project of John Bigham who played guitar in Fishbone for eight years and has worked with the likes of Miles Davis and Dr. Dre – The Good Girl Blues is a sultry, sexy collection of music calling to mind a sweaty night in a low-lit juke joint… and what happens after. Rick’s review of the album is pretty spot-on to what I would write about it, except I would have added the phrase “panty-moistening” in there somewhere.

Check out the four-alarm-fire of a track, “I Got Work” (which would have fit right in to my slow jams post), from The Good Girl Blues:

 

The new album from the Soul of John Black, Good Thang, has more of the same with some sunshiney soul added in. If The Good Girl Blues was about seducing that special someone, songs like “Good Thang” and “Li’l Mama’s in the Kitchen” are the happily every after of the story. Though it’s the jump beat of kiss-off song “Oh That Feeling” that sticks in my head the most.

 

 

If you’re way out west, you can check out the Soul of John Black live.

Aug 19 – Quixote’s True Blue – Denver, CO
Aug 20 – River Run at Keystone – Keystone, CO
Aug 21 – River Run at Keystone – Keystone, CO
Oct 08 – Joshua Tree Roots Music Festival – Joshua Tree, CA

Everyone else can settle for finding his albums on MOG, Spotify, Bandcamp, Amazon and the other usual suspects.

The Soul of John Black Official Website

The Soul of John Black @ Bandcamp

The Soul of John Black @ Facebook

July Video Challenge: Tracy Chapman, Fast Car and Telling Stories

I went looking for the video for Tracy Chapman‘s Fast Car on YouTube, and to my deep dismay, the original, official one was not there, and nor was it at any of her official sites. A brief rattling of the Intertubes turned it up at an alternate location, but still, it was much like going to the bookshelf and finding a familiar, well-loved volume has vanished, leaving an empty space behind.

So here it is:

And, as a bonus, here she is in 2009, with Telling Stories:

Finally, on a related note, MTV turns 30 tomorrow, and there’s an interesting interview on the subject with original VJ Mark Goodman at Gothamist.