Category: feature

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Jordan Bolton: Confidence is Just Another Word for Pretend

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What were you doing when you were 18? Nearly single-handedly producing fully realized songs and then promoting your music around the world? The continued maturation of the internet as a tool is making this more possible, and Jordan Bolton of Manchester, England, is taking advantage of that. Bolton has released two EPs, Jazz Hands and Silver Age, via free download (two songs from Silver Age are available below and both EPs can be obtained through the links at the end of the post), and as you listen to these collections you get the sense of a young artist’s growth and evolution being documented as he absorbs influences and lets them flow lightly into his own unique compositions.

Each song on Silver Age, his latest, has at least one sublime element in it: the pounding drums of “Lull”, the loping bassline of “Control”, the infectious chorus of “Black and Grey”. While becoming firmly rooted in your head (and later coming out as a hum as you go about your day), these songs make you excited to hear what’s next.

 

Black And Grey by Jordan Bolton


Control by Jordan Bolton


Jordan Bolton @ Soundcloud

 

Jordan Bolton @ MySpace

 

Jordan Bolton @ Last.fm

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Rachel Brooke: I Can’t Sing Anything That Wasn’t Sung Before

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It took me a while to come around to country music on the whole. Sure, I had some questionable dalliances with country artists in my youth. You would have found Oak Ridge Boys and Randy Travis tapes stacked in with my Duran Duran and Depeche Mode tapes. And my mother’s housework was often accompanied by Kenny, Dolly and Alabama when she wasn’t playing the Rolling Stones, Pat Benatar and the Pointer Sisters. But I soon became the kind of person who, when asked what kind of music she listened to, answered, “Almost everything… except country.”

Then, eventually, I was turned on to the country music of the 1940s and ’50s. Ernest Tubb, Hank Sr., Patsy Cline, Johnny Cash… you know the bunch I’m talking about.

On her second solo album, Down in the Barnyard, Rachel Brooke’s music hearkens back to this time in country music when the keys to success were a steady rhythm, a clear and honest voice and a good story. But, like myself – and like many of you reading this, Brooke has probably spent a little more time in her life cozied up to Joy Division than kicking back with Merle Haggard, and this adds a quirky edge to her songs. With her eyeliner, black bob haircut and murder ballads, she appeals just as well to goths as to lonesome cowboys. Had she been recording when I was discovering classic country, younger me would have wanted to be her. Hell, current me kind of wants to be her.

Check out a couple of her songs below, then check her out live.

Rachel Brooke – The Barnyard

Rachel Brooke – City of Shame

 

Rachel Brooke Official Website

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This Moment in Black History

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You might have a difficult time doing it due to their ridiculously sparse internet presence, but This Moment in Black History is a Cleveland band you should know about. They’ve been producing real, raw, limitless punk for almost a decade, and they’ll be a part of the Beachland Ballroom‘s 11th anniversary festivities as they play a gig with fellow Ohio bands Wussy, Cloud Nothings and the Modern Electric this Saturday, March 5.

 


TMiBH performing “Blackwards Masking” at the Knitting Factory in Brooklyn last August.

To get an idea of what a TMiBH show is like, you can get a free download of a show they played in Baltimore last summer here.

This Moment in Black History @ MySpace
This Moment in Black History @ Facebook

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Doc Dailey & Magnolia Devil: Alabama Daydream

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Even though Doc seems to think the only reason to travel through Ohio is some girl, I like Doc Dailey & Magnolia Devil. I like them a lot.

Hailing from the Muscle Shoals area of Alabama – home to Muscle Shoals Sound Studio, FAME Recording Studios, W.C. Handy and more than one member of Drive-By Truckers – Doc and his crew play with a complement of instrumentation that ranges from the traditional Americana staples of mandolin and banjo to pedal steel and organ right on up to horns and classical strings (If you don’t think banjo and classical strings make good companions, the title track from Victims, Enemies & Old Friends will prove you wrong).

Just as diverse is the range of song styles they pass through, from big-drum rockers (“She’s Gonna Love Me”, “The Only Reason That I Know”) to heartbroken-yet-hopeful ballads (“Pray for You”) to country music’s bread and butter, story songs (“Let Me Down”, “‘Til Death Do Us Part”). And, no mistake, this is music that lands heavily on the country side – Doc’s accent is the definition of “twang” – but it is a world away from those Nashvegas products that pop up in many people’s minds when they think of country music. This is music from people who appreciate, say, the Replacements as much as they do Hank Williams, Sr.

With its clean and warm production, Victims, Enemies & Old Friends is a very pleasant surprise from beginning to end, and you’ll probably have more than one favorite song from this album from the first listen.

 

Doc Dailey & Magnolia Devil – The Only Reason That I Know

Doc Dailey & Magnolia Devil – She’s Gonna Love Me

 

Doc Dailey & Magnolia Devil Official Website

Doc Dailey & Magnolia Devil on Bandcamp

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Rock ‘n’ Roll Photog: Love Crushed Velvet

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We are crazy with the interviews here all of sudden. Today, Jennifer talks to A.L.X., singer of Love Crushed Velvet.

IMG_7623A.L.X. and Love Crushed Velvet at Crash Mansion

Love Crushed Velvet, last seen on NTSIB participating in the Beatles Complete on the Ukulele event, will be putting out a new record in the middle of April. Recently, I sat down with lead singer A.L.X. to discuss a variety of musical topics:

During the Beatles Complete on the Ukulele event I thought I heard someone say you were from Austria. That’s since been cleared up – you were born in East Germany and later moved to the United States – but in the process of straightening that out, you dropped a tantalizing reference to having briefly been a cult celebrity in Austria. What was that all about, because it sounds like a good story.

It was one of those weird things about being in the right place in the right time. I ended up living there back in the ’90s – I was actually a student at the time.  Even though I was born in Europe, have European parents and was used to going over there to visit, I wasn’t used to actually living abroad.  It’s a big difference between staying with your family for several weeks versus someone just throwing you – 18 years old, 19 years old – into the middle of a European city.

During the first couple of weeks I was just checking out all of the music clubs and ended up falling into a circle that – unbeknownst to me at the time – included some of the top rock musicians in the country. And when you go there as a young American singer from New York – and I only realized this in retrospect –you don’t have to be great, all you have to be is half-decent and have attitude. Just the fact that you’re American, they will embrace you. So being American, being from the New York area, and being a rock singer – the kind of doors that opened were just unimaginable to me as a young kid.

So within 2-3 months I ended up having a band with a bunch of guys who were quite well known – Falco’s guitar player, Peter Kruder (one of the Kruder and Dorfmeister founders) played with us for a bit – and it was great fun.  It didn’t last very long – in retrospect, it felt like five minutes–but it opened up a lot of doors to me over there. That was an important period in my life because it gave me a sense of affirmation that, “hey, I can do this!” Even though it’s now a distant memory, and what I’m doing now musically really doesn’t relate much to that period, it was still a great thing to experience when you’re an 18 or 19 year old.  If only I’d realized how much harder it would be every step of the way since then–because you just assume that it’s going to be so much easier everywhere else you go from that point. And then you get back to New York and no one gives a shit who you were when you were somewhere else, and it hits you:  “Damn, this is gonna be hard!”

So now, this new band you have going, Love Crushed Velvet, how did that start?

I’d been playing with a couple of great musicians in one of my solo projects, and we’d become good friends. Thommy Price, who was the drummer for Joan Jett and the Black Hearts, and with Billy Idol right before that, and Jimi Bones who was with Blondie and also with Joan Jett at one point – had been playing in support of a solo album that I’d cut a few years earlier.  We’d been playing the music from that A.L.X record for about a year, and it eventually morphed into a completely different sound. The songs changed – as songs often do anyway.  You can play a song with 30 different musicians and it’ll feel like 30 different songs.

The direction of the music took on a very interesting feel. Thommy’s drumming has a very crisp and powerful–but not heavy-handed–snare delivery.  Listen to the Billy Idol records from the mid-’80s, you can really hear that in there, and as we started playing we found a sound that was really very different from a lot of rock you hear nowadays, which is often either big radio cockrock or really indie and alternative. I love a lot of the alternative music out there, but there wasn’t that much of it that had that combination of being big and muscular yet had an alternative feel to it at the same time. So that’s kind of the birth of Love Crushed Velvet.

I’d started writing around the sound of this band and everything just fell into place very easily, really from the first studio sessions. I’m too close to the record to tell whether it’s good or not, and it certainly took a long time to record.  But it wasn’t a difficult album to make. The songs, the vibe, everything fell into place very easily. So I’m hoping it’s the start of a good thing and a long thing.

I’ve listened to the record a couple of time now, and in the song, Love Crushed Velvet, the “love crushed velvet” that you’re looking for – what is that? What does that mean?

If you look at the lyrics, not surprisingly, the song is about sex and how so many of us mask our sexual identity as something else. Because our sexuality is really the core of who we are, our essence as people.  It’s not in our heads, it’s in our hearts. And that song really just explores the whole concept of chasing who we really are from that perspective. Just allowing ourselves to be free on that level. And the video we made of the song played with that idea, with the concept of having multiple masked identities.

Okay. So your next big gig in New York is Earth Day?

The next one that’s firmly booked is Earth Day. Between now and then, we will probably end up doing three or four Love Crushed Velvet shows. The other thing I’m doing is I’m traveling around a fair amount doing an unplugged tour—solo–and taking the Love Crushed Velvet songs and stripping them down on an acoustic guitar. I’ve done five or six of those shows already. Between the Love Crushed Velvet band shows there’s sometimes time and space to kill and we still want to get the music out there – this is just a different way of doing it; a more intimate way of presenting it.

All right. Now, Google tells me you also run a chemical company?

Running is a big word. It’s essentially a green technology company and is something I fell into.  I’ve kind of grown up around it, it was a family business that I was involved with it one way or another since I’ve been a kid. I’ve never seen myself as a person who could do just one thing, and I love the yin and the yang aspect of having two different lives.  Being a musician can be a very esoteric thing. The business side of music is a disciplinary, regimented thing, but I’ve always hated the music business and want as little to do with the business side of it as possible. But this other business, I find it really interesting. I travel for both worlds, so I can play music on the road and do the other business at the same time. It’s a nice balance against being too free-form as an artist, which I fall into far too easily.

I had a stray thought about lacquers for guitars –

We do that too. Those are my favorite trips! Yeah, you get with the guitar companies and you talk about the lacquers, but basically you sit around all day playing the guitar.

That sounds like the best business trip ever.

It’s amazing. So, what kind of music do you like?

Big drums and dirty bass lines.

Well, that could be a lot of things. What was your transformative song? The one that really woke you up?

It was Beat It. I remember being in the kitchen, and hearing it on the radio for the first time – I was really young, obviously – but that opening guitar riff came out, and I remember really distinctly reaching out to turn it up. And I’ve never been much of a Michael Jackson fan beyond that, but that opening riff, I have an almost automatic Yesssssssss!, punch the air with both fists response.

Fall Out Boy did a cover of it, and when I was at Bamboozle a couple of years ago – this was before he [Michael Jackson] died, they don’t play it now that he’s dead – they played it. I was in the back of the pit, being squashed by the crowd, and they launched into it right as I was deciding to get out, and as I’m walking past the security dudes, I’m waving my arms in the air.

And then – I didn’t realize until I was getting out – but in order to get out you had to walk towards the stage, through the line of security dudes. And I had to really focus on not stopping and staring at them on the stage, so I didn’t get in trouble. But as I got towards the front, where I could see the kids with their faces turned up towards the stage and bathed in the light and the guys really focused on what they were playing, and Patrick Stump’s voice soaring over us, I thought This is where it is, this is where the magic happens.

Also, uh, Welcome to the Jungle, because I’m predictable that way. And Dr. Feelgood. Anyway, that’s a good question. What was your transformative song?

I’ve had a few of them. The one that woke me up was, ironically, a Billy Idol song. It’s from before I had ever heard of him or Generation X: It was the last Gen X single, Dancing With Myself.  This was god knows how long since they’d been broken up already.

I was living in the suburbs at the time, and you couldn’t hear anything like that on the radio there.  But one night I came across this alternative station that would play older punk and new punk, that wasn’t Bruce Springsteen, that wasn’t the Eagles, all the kind of stuff that didn’t move me musically when I was, I don’t know, fourteen or something like that.  And I remember there was this radio show that used to come on at 10 o’clock at night, and as soon as the show started – b-tchk b-tchk bnar nar nar came out of my radio and I was like, “Fuck!” It had a simple rhythm and incredibly simple guitar line, yet just felt like it was going to explode out of the speakers, it just had so much energy.

And finally now, after having made a number of records, I can figure out how they created that, how they gave that much energy in the studio. But at the time it really opened me up to punk and all those punk bands. And fortunately–or unfortunately–I was a generation removed from it already, so I was really too young to be in that scene. So what I had to tap into were really the later generation of post-punk bands coming up around New York at the time. But that Gen X song opened my eyes to a different, more simple, more energetic kind of music. It was a jolt to my central nervous system at the time. That really woke me up to the accessibility of it, it just had two or three simple notes that could make people dance and go crazy.

 

IMG_6355A.L.X. and Love Crushed Velvet at Brooklyn Bowl

 

So this is always a fun question. What was the first show you went to?

The first show was the Kinks. I had a friend who was a couple years older than I was – I was thirteen or fourteen – who was a big Kinks fan, and this was the late ’80s so by that point, in retrospect, the Kinks were sort of on their downhill slide. They probably hadn’t been relevant for six or seven years, but they were still great. The two things I remember were how often Ray Davies changed his jacket, and how much pot smoke there could be in a big place. But it was cool. There was something I loved about the Kinks–they were dirty, but were still sophisticated.

I got to know more about them over time, and learned about Ray Davies. He’s a pretty interesting cat, very literate, very smart, very thoughtful guy. But at the time, it was all about simple riff rock with a lot of pot smoke and a lot of different jackets. It made an impression as my first show.  I think it was at Roseland, so being at a smaller place like that, with a great band and that kind of atmosphere, was quite different than being at an arena show.  The world that I was exposed to attracted me and scared me at the same time.

My first show was Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, in an arena, and Lenny Kravitz opened.

Wow.

Yeah. And I was also, like, fourteen, and had no idea that openers existed, so I was like, Who is that? That’s not Tom Petty! And this was – ’89, Full Moon Fever – so he was on his up-tick again.

He’s brilliant, Tom Petty. He’s such an underappreciated songwriter. It’s funny, when I was younger, I never cared for his voice, it wasn’t appealing to me. And if I don’t like the way the singer sounds, I just can’t get past it.   I now like his voice, I appreciate it for its distinctness, and looking at Tom Petty as a songwriter, god he’s good.

I went out after that and acquired his back catalogue at Tower Records. Which took some doing, in 1989, since everything was still on tape. Which actually brings me to my next question: What was the first album that you bought – record or tape or CD or whatever?

Led Zeppelin IV.

Interesting. Yeah, mine were Born in the USA and Nervous Night. I think I used my birthday money – I was 11.

Led Zeppelin IV was a record that I got turned on to it by older friends. And Zep, just like that Kinks concert, was enticing but scary. When you’re a kid of thirteen and you listen to Led Zepplin for the first time, you’re not quite sure what to make of it.  Having been around it for thirty-some odd years, we’re now all so used to it, it’s a part of our vernacular, it’s almost like it’s in our bloodstream, but hearing that for the first time – especially Black Dog– you can see why people thought they were Devil worshippers way back in their era.  Because it’s scary but it’s sexy. It’s all those things rock and roll is supposed to be, really, and at the highest level. So that was my first record.

What was the last one that you bought?

Record record?

It doesn’t have to be a record record. Album. Collection of music! I haven’t – oh wait, I have bought a record record. Not on purpose, though – it was part of a larger band package. I don’t even own a record player! I do have a walkman, though. It’s kind of beat to shit, but I’ve got it.

I’ve kept my old records, but I don’t store them in my apartment. They’re somewhere in the basement of my mother’s house because if you live in Manhattan, you need a certain amount of space for record players.  It’s not like CD players, which you can just stick in any corner. Record players, you have to be able to open them up and move around them. You need accompanying square and cubic footage around record players.

But the last CD I bought, it’s this cool band, I’m not sure where they’re from, called Diamond Rings, and I bought them about a month ago when I was in Houston. There’s a great record store there called Cactus Music, it’s just fantastic. There are no record stores left anymore, so this is now one of the great record stores in America.  It’s relatively small, but they do live bands and showcases in there, and is everything a modern, relevant record store should be. They were playing Diamond Rings when I was in there, and I was like, cool record!

Circling back a little bit – I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed the Beatles Complete on the Ukulele event, since my normal Beatles tolerance is . . . somewhat limited.

That show was mostly about bands interpreting the Beatles, and interpreting the Beatles, it’s an education.  Look at their choice of chords, their choice of structures, their choice of melodies.  When I grew up I was the same way–I was never really moved by the Beatles, I didn’t find them dirty or sexy or edgy enough.

My objection is that they’re, like, really irritating wallpaper after a while.

Yeah, well, they’ve also been overplayed.

Yes, they play the same five songs all the time, and then I’m like, Enough now.

But, I thought the Beatles thing last week – it’s interesting to hear the songs played by someone other than the Beatles, because they become new songs, in and of themselves. And I remember standing at the bar with my bandmates and we were just chatting, and then hearing Hey Jude, having someone else play it –

On the accordion, no less!

– yeah, and it’s just such a fucking good song. It just gets bigger and bigger and bigger – as a songwriter that song is a masterpiece, it’s just so well done.

But the dirge-like pace at which the Beatles played it is excruciating after a while. I have to say I developed a whole new appreciation for I Am the Walrus. I think it was Black Bells – they were the first ones up after the Uke mob – and I’m pretty sure they did I Am the Walrus because they really stomped through it, and I was like, This is a great song! . . . wait a minute.

When I heard the original version of Hey Bulldog, one of the ones we covered, I wasn’t excited by it – am still not. I don’t care for the way it’s mixed, I just don’t respond to it.  But when we got together and broke it down, suddenly you’re like, hey, this is a cool song. Taking that James Bond-y guitar line that George Harrison’s playing and making it your own…

A lot of their music is like that. When you strip it down to it’s core essentials, just as writers, their sense of melody, they’re just an amazing creation. They’re so strong, there’s not a lot of weakness in their catalog.  You can argue with how it was performed – but they also did so many different renditions of their songs.  If you go back to collections of the Beatles outtakes, some of the songs have four or five or six different versions of them. In a few cases they were all released in some form or the other.

So how did you get involved in the Beatles Complete on the Ukulele thing? Do you get invited to that?

I got invited by Roger Greenawalt–he and I have known each other for a while and have done a few different projects together over the last ten-twelve years.  He was the first producer I met when I moved to New York.  I cut some demos with him, back, hmm, right at the tail end of the ’90s? And Roger produced four songs on the Love Crushed Velvet record.

While we were cutting the Love Crushed Velvet tracks, he was conceptualizing the Beatles on the Ukulele thing.  Two months later, he did his first Beatles event at Spike Hill [a bar in Brooklyn] which was much smaller, much funkier, not the quasi-spectacle it is now. I ended up getting up and doing a couple of songs, and he’s invited me and the band to come back in subsequent years, so this is actually the third time doing it. I was there when it started!

From the beginning!

Thank God not on video, that first time.

Apparently he’s doing Led Zeppelin on the ukulele next? Is that what I hear?

Yeah, he’s been talking about it for a while. I haven’t gotten invited yet – I’m hoping that means it hasn’t happened yet.

I’m actually terribly intrigued by the prospect of Led Zepplin on the ukulele. I think Immigrant Song with ukulele might be quite dramatic.

If you think about it, Zeppelin on the ukulele makes more sense in some ways than the Beatles on the ukulele, because Jimmy Page used nonstandard tunings on most of his songs.  They had mandolin, a lot of other things going through their records. A lot of Zeppelin has that sonic frequency of the ukulele underneath it.  Even if it might not have been the ukulele per se, it might have been a mandolin instead, but they give a similar effect. I can see it working.

Maybe he can try the Rolling Stones on the ukulele next.

That one I’d be a little bit more careful with.

That might be awkward.

You can’t ukulele-ify the entire world.

That’s true. Still. It would be funny. I would be entertained by the Rolling Stones on the ukulele.

I would be entertained by Nine Inch Nails on the ukulele.

[cackling with glee] That would be PERFECT. [manages to contain laughter] Anyway, that’s about all I had, so, in conclusion, thank you so much for meeting with me today, and for letting us put one of your songs up for people to download.
—-

Song: Problem Child

I like it because: It’s a gleeful bad-boy anthem, and also an interesting bookend to He’s Not a Boy, which is a “You can’t change a bad boy, you just have to love him as he is, and really, would you have him any other way?” song by The Like. The two bands are very different, musically, I just enjoy the way these two tunes “talk” to each other.

Listen to the record streaming at bandcamp: Love Crushed Velvet

 

— Jennifer

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Craig Wedren: Are We

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Craig Wedren has long been a favorite of mine, both solo and in his game-changer band Shudder to Think, for always pushing his songwriting in new directions, and now he’s taking the same adventurous spirit into video. Wedren will be releasing a new album that will also have a companion interactive film, both titled Wand, in May. You can check out the 360-degree interactive video for the first single, “Are We”, at the link below.

www.craigwedren.com

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Grandfather: Down to the Dirt This Time

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The line of separation between “That sounds interesting” and “I must listen to that again RIGHT NOW” can be a wide one. But after my first listen through Grandfather’s debut album Why I’d Try, that line was so thin it was practically invisible. I found myself hitting the “play” button again before my brain had even had the chance to fully grasp the music, to file it under a tidy banner, as brains are wont to do. The heavy, compelling rhythms, guitar that sounds a range from attack-dog machine-gun barking to high jangly space ambience and almost delicate melodies bore quickly and directly into some sub stratum in my brain, making my understanding of the music a bottom-up process instead of the usual top-down (“We’re a [genre] band”, “RIYL: [other bands that may or may not sound like this band]”) method. It was not unlike my initial experience with a band that went on to become one of my favorites: Shudder to Think, with their changed-the-game-for-me album Pony Express Record (a band Grandfather has been compared to based on their favoring of off-kilter time signatures and unusual melodies).

Grandfather – Tremors

How the end product of Why I’d Try came to be is an interesting story and an effective calling card for Grandfather – a three-piece made up of Michael Kirsch on guitar, Jonathan Silverman on bass and Josh Hoffman on drums and vocals. After messing around with their digital home recording equipment to the point where they didn’t feel they could trust their own ears any longer, they decided that the most freeing option would be to take all those digital options away. They would hand the engineering reigns over to someone else and record their album in an analog studio. And there are few more qualified to take those reigns than Steve Albini (and if you don’t know who Albini is – oh, honey – check out this list of albums Albini has engineered, including those by his own bands Big Black, Rapeman and Shellac).

Grandfather – It’s Good Enough Now

Decision made, Grandfather sold off their digital recording equipment, set up a Kickstarter campaign to make up the difference and booked time with Albini’s Electrical Audio studio in Chicago. In three days, Why I’d Try was recorded and mixed by Albini and mastered by Albini’s Shellac bandmate Bob Weston. (Michael Kirsch wrote a series of posts about the process and experience for SonicScoop that are well worth a read.)

Grandfather – Blood Theme (From Dexter) / Tremors from Big Ass Lens on Vimeo.

With the money spent and the hard work finished, Grandfather proceeded to give the album away for free (go to the official site link below for the full download). The trick of it is, once you hear the album’s sonic richness on mp3, you’ll want to hear it again on vinyl for the full experience of highs and lows and textures. Lucky for you that they had a limited number of LPs (and CDs) pressed to fulfill that need. All it’ll cost you is a ten-spot (and some shipping if you’re ordering online – I already have mine on order).

Grandfather Official Website

SonicScoop | How Grandfather Made A Record With Steve Albini In Three Days

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Patrick Sweany: Let ‘Forward’ Be My Credo

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Patrick Sweany

Listening to Patrick Sweany’s albums is like reading his life. In between and over top of melodies that are sometimes sweet and sometimes rough, deftly finger-picked on acoustic and electric guitar, Sweany uses the full range of his rich baritone to sing of everything from the rigors of touring to the most painful complications of love. He doesn’t pull many punches, laying out his struggles and fears with his career and his personal life under a lens that looks as unflinchingly at himself as it does at anyone else. His voice, sometimes soft as a hand brushed against a loved one’s skin, sometimes as harshly ragged as a rusted-out muffler dragged down miles of dusty backroads, reflects the truth of every word.

Drawing on influences from Mississippi blues to classic soul to New Orleans R&B; to classic country & western to protest folk to rock of all stripes to a wealth of other styles and sounds that he has avidly devoured since his childhood, Sweany has steadily, industriously been carving out a career for over a decade, producing five albums to date (with one, C’mon C’mere, co-produced by Jimbo Mathus and Dan Auerbach and another, Every Hour is a Dollar Gone, produced by Auerbach). Coming out of Northeastern Ohio and currently settling in Nashville, Patrick Sweany is a sharp, smart, funny, determined man with a flair for storytelling. Though he has a degree in English Literature (“which I pronounce ‘Let-trah-chah,’ and rotate my palm upward, swirling the brandy in my imaginary snifter,” Sweany says), it’s clear that Sweany was meant for music not only because of his immense talent, but because he is also someone who truly loves music (When I told him of how standing in Sun Studio in Memphis had me fighting back tears, he confessed, “The Stax museum did the same to me, just brought me to tears.”*). This may seem like a redundant thing to say about a musician, but, trust me, it’s more rare than it should be.

Patrick Sweany’s fifth album, the beautiful That Old Southern Drag will see physical release on February 15 (and it’s already available for download on his Bandcamp site). Thanks to a push from NTSIB collaborator Nate Burrell, I was able to sit down, via e-mail, with Sweany for a lovely chat that revealed how The Cosby Show was integral to his development into a musician, the existence of a secret juke joint in the middle of downtown Cleveland and more.

Alright, Mr. Sweany, let’s do this thing. (And thanks again for doing this thing with me.)

I know your father plays guitar and was an influence on you, but was there a “moment” that set you on the road to being a musician?

The moment where I decided “I want to be a musician,” was probably when I was about 12 or 13. I was probably 12. Mom and Dad were working, my brothers were down in the basement playing video games, and I was listening to a Pete Seeger album that my dad had, on the big console stereo. The album was recorded live, and it was just so great. The way all those people listened to him and sang along when he asked them to and erupted with applause, and the way that performance made me feel. I hadn’t really been exposed to a lot of different music, other than what my dad had, so none of this music sounded dated, or folk-y in the derogatory sense. I was just a kid. I had no concept of what the social and societal ramifications of the particular time frame (MLK, Kennedy, pre-summer of love, civil rights movement) were when that recording was made. I knew that at that point in my life, this record moved me and I wanted to be there. The guy on the record was just one guy. My Dad could play most of the songs on that record. I knew my dad was a cool guy, so I figured I’m his kid, I could be cool, I could pull this off. I felt so knocked out and excited by guys playing guitars and singing, I just wanted to be like that. I wanted to do what they were doing. It was different than watching a guy win a game.

There were other times. Hearing Ray Charles’ “Night Time is the Right Time” on The Cosby Show. Watching it in the living room with my Mom and Dad and my brothers. That was before everyone had cable, before most TVs had remote controls. All the Huxtable kids were lip synch-ing and dancing to the record. Ray’s voice, that band, Margie Hendricks singing, hollerin’, “Squeeze me, hold me tight. You know I love you… etc.” It made me so excited. Remember, I’m just a kid, and sex wasn’t anything I was remotely thinking about. I knew what it was, but I didn’t understand anything about it. I was excited like a kid gets about riding bikes or new toys. I wanted to holler like that. I didn’t understand what Margie and Ray were saying, but I could feel it was something different. I wanted to make people dance like the kids on TV. I didn’t want that song to be over. I don’t think we had a VCR or anything at that time, not that many people did, if any. It was just gone when it was over. I felt little bit embarrassed because I wanted to know about it, but I didn’t understand. It was just something that I thought about. It would make me excited when I thought about it, and I would mouth what I thought the words were when I was alone, and maybe dance around a little bit, using my imagination, like a kid does. I didn’t really know who Ray Charles was until a few years later, but I figured it out pretty naturally.

Your answer leads into so many other things I want to ask you. For instance, the joy and excitement you obviously found in music then still comes through in your performances now. One of the things that knocks me out most about your music is the passion that comes through, especially in your voice. Since you’ve been at this for a while now, do you find that passion and excitement difficult to maintain? Or is it just like breathing for you?

Doing a gig/performing is always exciting. If I let it all hang out, really let it fly on the bandstand, play good, holler in key, and really move around and get sweaty, I feel really good. Better than anything else, I’ve found. It’s kept me from getting into self destructive behavior (despite providing countless opportunities to do exactly that!), it’s given me an opportunity to meet people and see places I never would have known existed. It seems to make other people able to feel good. Vocalizing that emotion is important to conveying that, so I sometimes push the voice a little harder than I probably should, but I have a pretty firm grasp of my limits, or least what I can bounce back from. I get a lot of satisfaction from entertaining people. The physicality of it is important. It’s not all of it. A lot of the greats are great because they reached people, made them feel like they were a part of it. (“That song reminds me of when I was ______.”)

I feel like I’ve got a perspective on American music that’s a little unique to what most people know, but it comes from a root that’s familiar to them. I put what’s happening in my life into a song, but I try to be aware that the purpose of this whole thing is that people all feel the same on the inside, and they feel good when they feel somebody relates specifically to them.

I need to do this. I’m 36 years old, and I don’t know how to do anything else. Do you have any idea how intimidating it is to fill out a job application with a 15 year gap in your employment history titled “self employed musician.” I went to colleg
e. I got a degree, but I used college as a diversionary tactic so I could be a musician. The education I was able to absorb along the way was invaluable, and allowed me a lot of perspective that I probably would have missed out on, but it was always secondary to music. I guess maybe that’s where a lot of that fire comes from, still trying to prove this is really what I’m supposed to be doing.

You say you feel you have a unique perspective on American music – can you expand on that?

I probably wouldn’t have said “unique perspective” if I knew I had to explain it. It’s a figure of speech musicians use that means “I’m stupid and insecure, but I want people to think I’m smart and cool.”

But I love talking about me, so here goes…

Mom was born in Liverpool, England. She’s the same age as McCartney. Poor. Working class. Went out dancing, like kids did then. Saw the Beatles like any other dozen bands that played around the clubs and dances. Beatles got popular. Brian Epstein’s family owned a lot of the record stores in Liverpool. So, my introduction to the most influential phenomenon in modern popular art and culture is this quote from my mother: “You know they got famous because their manager’s family owned all the record stores, then they got into drugs…”

So, beyond their first batch of American singles, of which my Dad had a record, I never listened to them until very late in my college career. And even then, not much. I listened to the folk records that my dad had, when I developed enough attention span to really listen to music. My dad stopped buying albums when Dylan went electric. And for some reason I just really dug that stuff. Pete Seeger, early Gordon Lightfoot, the first Dylan albums, Tom Rush, Dave Van Ronk, etc., just made sense to me. Beautiful songs, deceptively simple accompaniment. Just people singing and playing acoustic instruments. Dad had some Leadbelly albums, and some comps with Lightnin’ Hopkins and acoustic John Lee Hooker that were just otherworldly. He had some Rock and Roll stuff, like Buddy Holly, Fats Domino, etc. Through that, I read album jackets and just threw myself into learning about all these fingerstyle acoustic blues guys from the 1920s and ’30s. Willie McTell, Booker White, Tampa Red, Charlie Patton, Skip James, Gary Davis, Furry Lewis, The Memphis Jug Band. And lots of piano players, Little Brother Montgomery, Speckled Red, Roosevelt Sykes. And I just dove in, this is what I want to do. I want to play this music, the way these guys did it. No plugged in guitars, no artifice. I studied and performed this stuff and really worked hard to get to the essence of what made this stuff happen. I made a conscious decision that I wasn’t going to come at this stuff with modern rock music as the template or filter through which I viewed it. It didn’t sound dated or hokey to me. It sounded good. I was listening to modern, popular music with my friends, and enjoying it, but none of them played guitar or any instruments, and nobody thought the old stuff I was into was cool. I figured out almost every one the guys I liked plugged into electric guitars as soon as they were able, and I got into Muddy Waters, Elmore James, B.B. King, Magic Sam, Howlin’ Wolf, Sonny Boy Williamson, and then I started really getting into Soul music. Ray Charles, Sam Cooke, Sam and Dave, Otis Redding, Aretha Franklin and Percy Sledge. At the same time, I was also digging on George Jones, Merle Haggard, Willie Nelson, Tom T. Hall, Conway Twitty, Lefty Frizzell and Hank Williams. I was still riding around in beat up cars, drinking cheap beer with my high school friends, listening to the first Metallica tapes, lots of Led Zeppelin records and stuff like that, which I still love, but I always had this secret guitar life.

Speaking of the classic bluesmen, I read that you played with Hubert Sumlin and Steady Rollin’ Bob Margolin. How did that come about and what was it like to play with them?

(And speaking of wanting people to think I’m smart and cool, I feel proud of myself for recognizing all but two names you listed.)

I was hanging out with “Moonshine” Pete Schidmt, a real raw, cool harmonica player who lived down the street from a gig I had way out in the country east of Cleveland, but it was only about 90 minutes from where I was living in PA for a couple years. He’s a white guy that used to run around in the ‘hood in Cleveland back in the ‘70s and ‘80s, and he knew all the real cats. Pete was kind of a street guy, real tough, kind of wild, but cool. Real sweet guy. I’m sure he gave a dozen amps and mics to guys in the hood, like (Cleveland) Guitar Slim, and cats who played blues, but didn’t leave the hood. He married Slim’s niece, had some kids and was living life out in the sticks when we met. We got to be friends and he said, “I’m going to take you to see Robert, and then we’ll go play with Slim.” Robert Jr. Lockwood, who lived in Cleveland and was one of my all time heroes. I had opened some shows for Robert, and he was always really nice to me, and I’ve watched him dozens of times. He’s the most underrated influence on the sound of the guitar in the latter 20th century.

Well, Pete had a guy that would bring up jugs of moonshine from Alabama. It’s the best I’ve ever had. The old cats that didn’t drink anymore would almost always take a little shine and reminisce. That Pete is a smart fella’. So, I got to sit knee to knee with Robert Jr., and pass the guitar back and forth, with the pretense of dropping off a little shine. I couldn’t believe it. Pete says, “Hey, we got to go to Slim’s birthday party. Bring this jar, don’t drink any of Slim’s, I got sick last time I drank his shit.” Got it. So, we go down in the ‘hood. It is deep. We park and walk up to this big, old, 3 story, firetrap house down near Hough, buzzer on the door(!) with a kid working the door, and walk up to the third floor, up these narrow stairs. We walk in, Pete and his wife know everybody, and it’s a big linoleum floored, wood paneled room with a little bar at one end, tables against the walls and amps and drums in the corner. They’re selling beer and shine, and they were waiting on Pete to bring another amp and get down. It was an honest to goodness juke joint, right in the city. Fun as hell. People dancin’, it was great.

So, afterwards there’s most of a jar left, Pete says, “Keep it. Give some to Hubert when you see him.”

I was booked to play at the Marietta, OH, Blues festival later that month, Bob Margolin (of the Muddy Waters Band) and Hubert Sumlin (Howlin’ Wolf’s guitar player!!!) were the headliners.

I cornered Bob beside the stage and said, “Hey Bob, blah blah, I’d like to give Hubert some shine, don’t want to be a bad influence or wreck your show, I’ll taste some if you are worried about it, we gave some to Robert Jr., etc…” Bob said, “I’d love to have Hubert sip some and turn on the tape machine when we get home.”

“That’s great Bob, here you are.”

“You wanna sit in?”

“Why, yes I do.”

Easiest question you’ve ever been asked, right?

A juke right in the middle of Cleveland. How fantastic.

How long have you been in Nashville now? Thinking of “Leaving Ohio”, I wonder if it’s gotten any easier for you since moved down there.

Financially, it’s as tough a situation as I’ve ever been in, but I really love living here. It was tough at first, no close friends, feeling like I was just starting a whole career over. I’m getting to know more folks and my personal life with my fiancee is great, we moved here together. Pretty happy as it goes. More Ohioans are moving here all the time. I miss home though. I guess everybody does.

I had mixed feelings about Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney moving down there at first, but I understand
the desire.

Speaking of the Black Keys, there was discussion on the Black Keys Fan Lounge Forum about how living in Nashville might affect the sound of the band since many people think of country music when they think of Nashville (even though I know there are a number of great rock bands based out of Nashville now). Do you see Nashville influencing your musical direction?

As far as influencing the sound, that is something to consider. It certainly has. I am among the most skilled, educated and professional musicians in the world. The guys I hire in Nashville show up prepared, on time, with the right gear, and ready to play. They are knowledgeable and confident in their abilities and able to take direction in order to make who they are working for sound the best. In Nashville, you are able to hire the right man for the job.

The terrible music that is recorded here that is marketed as country music overshadows most of what the world outside of Nashville views as “the sound of Nashville.” If you listen to shitty pop radio music, it’s shitty music. People buy it for some reason, so they keep reproducing it, usually here in town because it’s centrally located, tons of studios, tons of musicians, etc. It’s the music BUSINESS center. If you work in fashion, New York is where you go for opportunities. Nashville = Music. If you make shitty throw-away music, you’ll make shitty sounding throw-away music here. If your are happy being derivative and soulless, location can’t help that. If you care about how your record sounds, you won’t sound like a those records.

Hell yes, Nashville is influencing my musical direction. It’s influencing to me to explore my roots more deeply, be more careful with language, and be a better performer to differentiate myself from the crowd.

Speaking of your language, your songwriting is so damn honest. Is it ever hard to perform a song that is particularly personal? A song like “Two or Three” seems like it might rake you over the coals. How do you deal with that when it comes showtime?

There is enough time in the writing process, and the subsequent practice performing the material prior to recording, to be able to put distance between you and the story. I guess it comes from interpreting other really heavy duty material that you didn’t write, that you really relate to. I used to cry every time I listened to certain songs (by other artists). Now I don’t. When you read a book that you really like, in your mind, you put yourself in that story, one way or another, and you are able to deal with it, and gain catharsis from it.

Do I like talking about the really shitty situations in my personal life in the past? No. Did I come away from that particular situation you referred to in “2 or 3” with any sense of closure or feeling that I was the good guy? No. Not at all. Broken homes are awful things. Children suffer for it. It’s never completely okay.

Things just get easier to work around as you get used to them, over time.

Short answer: you get used to it. A performer performs.

I can’t recall where I read it or who said it, but someone once said something about how the best soul love songs were really just gospel songs done in a secular vein, and I know that a few of the songs that Isaac Hayes and David Porter wrote together were actual adaptations of gospel songs, right down to the titles. “The Edges” seems like that kind of song: depending on your perspective, it could be romantic or spiritual. Was that conscious? And which is it for you, romantic or spiritual?

I was really tempted to just say, “Both.”

And leave it at that, but that’s not very nice.

Haha! I almost gave you “both” as an option, but decided I should try to make you choose one.

“The Edges”: I just respond to, and feel comfortable with that type of song. The gospel influenced secular song. It has a groove that, by design, elicits emotional reaction and frees the singer to express him(her)self by providing a template of language or vocabulary that seems fresh, due to the freedom of phrasing. It works like a sonovabitch.

I don’t feel it as a conscious decision, I just get little ideas, and I flesh them out, try different grooves and make sure I’m not directly ripping something off. (Ya’know, sometimes I make sure.)

“The Edges” is about when I met my fiancee and how she made me feel like I could start to get on with having a real personal life. I was not really a very happy person. No relationships of any depth, by choice, and a little bitter. She changed that. Did not see that comin’.

I am also a sucker for that bugaloo groove and deeper voiced singers like Jerry Butler, Brook Benton, etc., and I hadn’t really ripped off either one, lately.

I gathered some questions from the Black Keys Fan Lounge forum because you have some avid fans there. One person wants to know more about “Frozen Lake”. Aside from being a lovely piece, it has a little different feel from the rest of the album. Clearly recorded live, it has a really intimate feel. Can you talk a little bit about the song and the recording of it?

Well, I don’t know what there is to say about it. We recorded it in the hallway, miked my acoustic guitar with a really nice ribbon mic, and also had it plugged into an amp in the bathroom. Maybe a little ambient mic in the room to give it a little, well, ambience. Sang it and played it. My thrift store Sam Cooke song about how it’s really easy to end up alone.

Amps in bathrooms seems to be a popular choice when recording. Give it up for shower-singing acoustics.

Another forum regular would like to know how you and Dan Auerbach met. I know Dan used to play with the Patrick Sweany Band), so was it just through the usual musician connections? You two seem like brothers from different mothers in terms of musical aesthetics and influences (and I’d wager that Dan drew some influence from you).

A friend of mine, Mike Lenz, was giving Dan some lessons and letting him sit in at gigs and said, “Hey, you should hear this kid, he’s into all this Mississippi stuff and Hounddog Taylor.” So, Dan came out with his dad, Chuck, and I invited him to sit in, he kept coming out, and eventually I just got rid of the bass player and had Dan handle the low end guitar stuff instead of a bass. Hounddog Taylor did this with his guitar player, Brewer Phillips, and he was one our mutual heroes.

I’ve showed Dan some things, guitar stuff, alternate tunings, but he was well on his way down the path, always focused. I’m older than Dan, and I was heavy into the Country Blues thing so I was the guy to ask. The Ampeg Gemini 1 that Dan plays on their first record, he found out about from me. The Gemini 1 was my first amp and still my favorite. Dan was in the band until he just got too busy with the Keys. We still hang out, now that he lives in the Nash.

While we’re on the subject of Dan, another forum regular is curious about the most memorable moment during the recording/production of Every Hour Is a Dollar Gone.

I would have to say the most memorable moment during the recording of Every Hour… is when Dan invited me to join the Black Keys as the lead singer and maracas player, and I turned them down. Just Kidding. There aren’t any real memorable things that come to mind. It’s work, you show up, you run the songs, listen back to the tracks, we spent 3 days tracking and it was done. It happens fast, there isn’t much messing around. That album was done almost 4 years ago.

Tell me about the Tiger Beats.

The Tiger Beats are my friends Ron Eoff (Cate Bros, The Band), Joe McMahan and Jimmy Lester (Webb Wilder, Los Straitjackets). We play old ’50s style blues and R&B; like Howlin’ Wolf, Jimmy Reed, Elmore James, Bobby Blue Bland, etc. It’s my all fun, no hassle blues band.

Nice lineup. So, there’s probably no plans to make a Tiger Beats

record? Do you just play around Nashville?

We have been thinking about doing a record, and writing material for it, but focus is on my new record right now. We only play in Nashville, by design, for the time being.

What are your plans for the foreseeable future, outside of your record release shows?

Future: The Van. Covering as much of the map as possible.

Any chance of a gig in Cleveland proper?

Possibly in the spring, we may play Cleveland.

And, finally, because I tend to get my best music recommendations from musicians I love: what music have you been listening to lately?

I have really been eaten up with Joe Tex, which is nothing new, but deeeeeeeeeep soul. Nick Lowe’s The Convincer, but it’s from 2001. That album wrecked me yesterday when Joe McMahan turned me on to it. Transcendent.

I was just listening to “Skinny Legs and All” the other day. My curse as a music blogger: while everyone else is listening to newer and newer music, I keep listening to older and older music.

Well, Mr. Sweany, thank you so much. This has been such a pleasure. Congratulations on the new album and your engagement.

Thank You! I really appreciate your patience. In the last two weeks, I’ve driven back and forth to NW Arkansas twice, drove to Jacksonville, FL, and back, and played two shows and an instore, here in town. It makes all the difference in the world to actually talk about real things in an interview instead of rehashing the one sheet. Thanks.

Patrick Sweany Official Website

Patrick Sweany on Bandcamp

*Patrick and I both recommend the book Soulsville U.S.A.: the Story of Stax Records by Rob Bowman.

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Over the Rhine: We Try to be Tender with All of Our Might

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A confession: this is the first time I’ve really listened to new Over the Rhine material in over a decade. When I first heard OtR, they were a four-piece (with Ric Hordinski on guitar and Brian Kelley on drums), Linford Detweiler had long hair, Karin Berquist was shy and Karin and Linford were not yet married. My ex and I were going to a show to see the Choir, and as we stood in line outside the club before doors opened, we fell into conversation with others in line that went something like:

Us: Who are Over the Rhine?
Several other people in line: Who are the Choir?

And by the end of the show, I was also asking “Who are the Choir?” having fallen in love with the charming four-piece from Cincinnati who opened for the Choir. Over the next few years, OtR’s music became integral to my marriage as we travelled to several shows, adopted “Paul and Virginia” as one of “our songs” and became friendly enough with Karin and Linford that, before we moved to California, we spent a pleasant afternoon with them in Cincinnati. Their 1997 release Besides was the last OtR album I spent any considerable time with before drifting away (not just from them but from most new music in general).

The first thing that stood out to me upon listening to their new album, The Long Surrender, was how Karin’s voice has become a confident, unique instrument. While always capable of great depth and power, self-consciousness seemed to keep her from using that power more than sparingly. Hesitancy is clearly no longer an issue.

Over the Rhine’s musical arrangements have gained confidence, as well. While the jangly, sepia-toned sound of those early songs still remains at the core, that sound is now plumped with strong jazz, classical and country tones, even dipping into some classic R&B;, soul and gospel at times.

The stand-out song for me is the torchy epic, “Infamous Love Song”, mining the smoky vein previously tapped with 1994’s “My Love is a Fever”. The way Karin’s voice warmly, languidly oozes over the words, it’s easy to imagine that this is the kind of song she was born to sing. Other stand-outs are “Undamned” in which Karin’s sweet voice pairs companionably with Lucinda Williams’ scratchier one, “The King Knows How” with its hip-grooving, deep bassline, “Rave On” with its building intensity and the heartbreaker of an opener “The Laugh of Recognition”.

While early OtR albums called up visions of rainy, late-summer afternoons, The Long Surrender is a late night groove, dark and close. Put it on, turn the lights down and pour a glass of bourbon…

Over the Rhine – The King Knows How

The Long Surender, produced by Joe Henry, drops February 8, and Over the Rhine will begin touring in support of the album in March (with a February 16 date at the Folk Alliance in Memphis, Tennessee).

March 25 РBoston, MA @ The Red Room @ Caf̩ 939 (Berklee)
March 26 – New York, NY @ Highline Ballroom
March 27 – Alexandria, VA @ Birchmere Club
March 29 РPhiladelphia, PA @ World Caf̩ Live
April 1 – Pittsburgh, PA @ Mr. Small’s
April 2 – Akron, OH @ Musica
April 5 – Ann Arbor, MI @ The Ark
April 7 – Milwaukee, WI @ Turner Hall
April 8 – Chicago, IL @ Lincoln Hall
April 9 – Madison, WI @ Majestic Theater
April 10 – Minneapolis, MN @ Cedar Cultural Center

Over the Rhine Official Website

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The First Year: NTSIB Turns 1

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Line up the shot glasses and lock up the animals and children: it’s time to celebrate Now This Sound Is Brave’s 1-year anniversary.

It’s been a thrilling year, and it looks like the next year is going to be even better. Not to get all awards-speech on you, but my thanks go out first and foremost to Duane, my oldest friend, who first proposed the idea of this blog and who continues to show inspiring support and encouragement. Thanks also to my co-blogger Jennifer, to fellow collaborators Brucini at the Black Keys Fan Lounge and photographer Nate Burrell, to fellow bloggers Digger (Take This Bread) and Tim (Rubber City Review), to friends who have become readers and readers who have become friends and anyone who has stopped here for even a moment. And, of course, a huge debt of gratitude to you who make music – even beyond this blog, I don’t know what I’d do without you.

Now, a present for you: a mix. Twelve songs that have elicited something strong for me, whether it is an emotional punch in the gut or just excitement over a great chord progression, these are songs that made me pay attention this year.

Here’s the download (.zip file) link.

And here’s what you’ll find inside:

1. The Famous, “Cold Tonight”
2. Drive-by Truckers, “Used to be a Cop”
3. Cadillac Sky, “3rd Degree”
4. Conrad Plymouth, “Fergus Falls”
5. A Place to Bury Strangers, “Ocean”
6. Liars, “Scarecrows on a Killer Slant”
7. Gil Scott-Heron, “Me and the Devil”
8. Patrick Sweany, “Rising Tide”
9. Freddie Gibbs, featuring Chuck Inglish, Chip tha Ripper, Bun B and Dan Auerbach, “Oil Money”
10. Lee Fields and the Expressions, “Honey Dove”
11. Infantree, “Slaughterhouse”
12. Strand of Oaks, “Sterling”

Stick around for great things to come.