Unknown Legends

Originally posted @ Consume-Media.com

Even though the band claims its roots in Athens, Georgia, Atlanta is still kind of a hectic homecoming for Futurebirds. When I was talking to ToJo Dojo a.k.a. Thomas Johnson in the ballroom lobby of the Buckhead Theatre, we could barely get five words into a conversation before an old friend or family member would spot the distinguishingly bearded guitarist, stop, chat, and beam with holiday spirit and pride for the progress of the young band.

Thomas greeted each one with more zeal as he got more drunk on the comfort of being back home and the venue-provided Bud Light. When I told him I wanted to shoot a little promo for Consume, he suggested we go backstage where we would have a some quiet and a chance to catch up.

This is a big night for Futurebirds for more reasons than just impressing a hometown crowd.

It’s their first show in a while. They’ve been laying low in Richmond, Virginia, at Montrose Recording studios tracking their third LP that they hope to release into the world by next Fall. The departure from their stomping grounds at Chase Park Transductions in Athens was welcome, Johnson told me, they needed to shake up their environment in order to decompress, but also to avoid the creative trap of familiarity and comfort.

“We knew the room, the boards, everything so well,” Johnson said. “Which can be good, but we just wanted to loosen up and get a change of scenery.”

They’re excited about the album, genuinely invested in their baby. Thomas and guitarist Daniel Womack had something good to say about every track. Because they are a band born and bred on the road, their songs seem to really come together live. So with the new record on the horizon, they worked a few of the tracks into Friday night’s set.

Even with a receptive Atlanta crowd, it can be intimidating to test new material in front of an audience. But the Birds donned their best Santa suits, Heisenberg T-shirts and googley-eyed sport coats and pulled out some songs that had a surprisingly pure rock n’ roll feel to them. Not Buddy Holly. Greasy 1970’s, long-haired stoned-out romps. The new tunes fit right in amongst the sing-along wordless chorus of “Yr Not Dead” and the Peter Buck-esque “Serial Bowls”. It was an evolved sound that still held on to that indefinable Futurebird mojo.

But that maturity didn’t stop with the new material. The boys pulled out polished up versions of early tracks like “MJB”, material off Hampton’s Lullaby, “Johnny Utah”, “Happy Animals” and “Battle for Rome”, and they made them sweeter, more gutsy but still refined. They even paid homage to Neil Young and the Stones with roaring covers of “Unknown Legend” and “Rocks Off”.

The band was on their game. Harmonies came together better than ever. Guitars cut, drums grooved and bass danced, all wrapped in the velvety waves of Dennis Love’s ‘verb-ed out pedal steel.

And the Buckhead Theatre rocked and swayed in approval. Amidst a violent sea of Patagonia vests, people sang out at the top of their lungs, joining in on the raucous mood of the show, all while Futurebirds remained headstrong in their drunken swagger.

Futurebirds’ shows are an experience, for sure. Friday was a night of old friends, proud family, good beer, a little whiskey, and music that brought it all together. But it never ceases to amaze me how this band can bring so much out of its audience. I’ve never heard someone walk away from their show disappointed. Their excitement is contagious, an intangible aura that comes from a profound passion for the music they’re creating. So, catch them on their next tour and be on the lookout for the next album.

There’s a reason the band is already the next big thing coming out of Athens.

18 Great Songs Over 5 Minutes, 5 Best songs under 2 minutes.

If you were to check out the track listing of the Monkees, or any comparable 60's pop band's Greatest Hits compilation, you would likely notice that rarely does a song break the two-minute mark. Now, an artist used to be able to build a modest career on this formula. But even though our attention span for everything else is shrinking, artists have since been pushing the time limit for songs further and further.

Personally, I love lengthy tunage. It really distinguishes artists who have the ability to craft something profound and developed. So, I decided to compile my favorite songs over five minutes. The criteria for this ranking? Of course, it had to be over five minutes. It also needed at least 15 plays on my iTunes. I thought it would be hard to meet these standards, but I ended up having to choose my favorites. Here is the result.

Star Witness, Neko Case, 5:17, 21 Plays

Lyrics are pure. Harmonies are organic. Haunting riff, sparse production. Strings. And that voice. Oof. That voice.

Know Til Now, Jim James, 6:27, 41 Plays

Hokey synths. Shiny Vocals. Interwoven Rhythms. Hypnotic, head-bob worthy groove. Surprise Ending.

Harmonia, Cass McCombs, 5:26, 27 Plays

Tight Bass. Uplifting pedal steel. Acoustic strumming worthy of slow motion road trip sequence.

Metanoia, MGMT, 13:52, 11 Plays

Ambitious. Huge. Roaming. Righteous.

The Moldau, Bedřich Smétana, 12:59, 18 Plays

Quite literally a river of music. A natural, moving force of precision and determination in melody and form.

Little Johnny Jewel, Television, 7:45, 19 Plays

Deceptively planned. Perfectly improvised. Ugly guitar. Beautiful composition.

Sound of Failure, Flaming Lips, 7:18, 18 Plays

Drozd polka. Outdated pop culture references. Catchy as hell.

Shake it Off, Wilco, 5:43, 16 Plays

A stuttering beat meets a fluttering jam. Some of the best guitar playing Wilco has to offer.

Freddie Freeloader, Miles Davis, 9:49, 23 Plays

If you want to know what bebop Miles Davis is. This is it. Cool, mellow and explosive all at the same time.

Silver Song, Conspiracy of Owls, 6:10, 19 Plays

Classic without sounding old. Poppy without sounding redundant.

Ambulance Blues, Neil Young, 8:56, 25 Plays

The best Neil Young song you probably haven't heard.

Heroin, Velvet Underground, 7:13, 15 Plays

This is the reason I was sad when Lou Reed died.

Eyesore, Women, 6:25, 16 Plays

Haunting melody. Killer bassline. And a tambourine that gives you hope.

Jeremy's Storm, Tame Impala, 5:28, 19 Plays

Doesn't need lyrics. Textured groove that would make the Floyd jealous.

Cursed Sleep, Bonnie "Prince" Billie, 5:36, 20 Plays

Quiet instrumentation and a melody that pulls at your heart strings. Pained love is often the most beautiful.

Mare, Julian Lynch, 5:31, 23 Plays

Loose tom groove, auto-wah guitar, and a glockenspiel-undertoned melody. Need I say more?

Freddie's Dead, Curtis Mayfield, 5:30, 23 Plays

super.Fuckin.fly. Flea stole all of his bass lines from Joseph "Lucky" Scott.

Goin To Alcapulco, The Band, 5:29, 21 Plays

The Band is called the Band because they are THE BAND. This song brings me close to tears.




Now, for all of you who don't have all the time in the world to devote to music like I do, I've picked the best five songs under 2 minutes. Monkees, eat your pre-Head hearts out.


A Pretty Dress, King Tuff, 1:58, 16 Plays

Communist Daughter, Neutral Milk Hotel, 1:57, 12 Plays

Hold On, John Lennon, 1:52, 13 Plays

Magic Trick, M.Ward, 1:45, 16 Plays

'Til the Morning Comes, Neil Young, 1:21, 16 Plays

There Can Be Only One

Originally posted @Consume-Media.com

For the second time in as many years, Cass McCombs graced the stage of East Atlanta's premier venue, the EARL. It was not the packed, sweaty Thursday night of 2012. It was a sparse room, maybe 80 people, who had braved their way to the club on a drizzling Monday night.

The band took the stage in a mild-mannered form that has become somewhat of a signature for the quiet songwriter. They blazed through the first three tracks, barely stopping between them, as if they didn't want to risk the applause. But as they hit their stride in "Their Can Be Only One", the loose, jammy single from McCombs' latest album, Big Wheel and Others, something clicked.

They settled into the groove, the rhythm of the room. Joe Russo, of the Benevento/Russo Duo and Further, who played on the Big Wheel sessions, was pulling double duty on bongos with his right hand while holding down the beat with a single stick in his left. Jon Shaw moved effortlessly through the Mike Gordon bass lines, careful not to just copy the Phish bassist's studio work. And Dan Lead traded funky rhythms and quick fills with Cass on guitar.

They became a force, swapping musical cues in an almost extra-sensory trance. Precision and mastery of the songs and the sound mixed with an excitement that came only from exploration. The band was in their own world, but at that moment, they opened up to us. There was an intimacy that grew, a bond with the crowd that overtook the whole mood of the club for the rest of the set.

"Cass is amazing. But with this new band, they're unstoppable," said Corey Allender, bass player in Arbouretum, who served up some sludgey, driving, fuzz-laced melodies as the opener on Monday night. He's watched McCombs and company play almost every night of the past few weeks, and he's still in awe, still on his toes throughout every set.

"I don't know how they do it," he spoke quickly in between songs, "They add another three or four new songs to the set every night." The drums of "Big Wheel" rumbled in from the back of the stage. "Fuck yeah," he said. "I love this song."

The 20-date tour is a bit of a musical mismatch, Allender admitted to me, and superficially, he's right. Arbouretum is an eclectic mix of folky stoner/doom rock, not exactly what springs to mind when you think of Cass's sound. But in the pairing, there's insight into McCombs' songs and his fan base. In order to truly appreciate his records, it's crucial to have an unusually diverse taste in music.

McCombs is an enigmatic figure. He has garnered the reputation of a nomad, a troubadour. But as much as he moves from place to place in life, he moves twice as fast in his music. If you were to listen to "Love Thine Enemy", you'd be tempted to call his music Rock. "Pregnant Pause" is a finger-picked acoustic number. "Joe Murder" could be considered post-rock, even avant-garde. The songs don't seem to fit together, from album to album. And yet, every one of those tunes made an appearance on Monday night, fitting seamlessly into the set. The band was riding wave after wave on a steady ocean of McCombs' back catalog. Songs from Prefection, Catacombs, and Wit's End all came out with full confidence, spawning almost effortless jams and improvisations. They even pulled out an unreleased track that Cass called "The Missing Link". The small crowd even coaxed an encore, a fantastic version of "County Line".  

But with the final chords of the night still echoing off the walls of the EARL, the band left the stage, and the trance was broken. It was past midnight. I walked to my car in a daze, reveling in the afterglow, reflecting on the purity of that organic performance, and, ultimately, forgetting to close my bar tab.

Cool Blog No. 1

Originally posted @ Consume Media

Those who watched MGMT play at the Tabernacle last Sunday night witnessed a band that has finally come into its own. They are at home with their sound. At home with their place in the musical world, each piece of the band finely, precisely settling around singer, guitarist Andrew VanWyngarden and synth czar, Ben Goldwasser. After just releasing their third, self-titled album, MGMT has become a band aware of their limitations, their strengths and their reach. Knowing when to please the crowd with chart toppers like “Electric Feel”. Knowing when to sprinkle in deep tracks like the twelve-minute opus of “Siberian Breaks”. All holding down the attention of the starkly different fan base that ranges from high school dance fiends to psychedelic beatniks.

This international tour seems to have completed the band in more ways than one. Their last two records showed a massive departure from their 2007 breakout, Oracular Spectacular, a split that sort of estranged them from their electro-pop duo reputation. 2011’s Congratulations even had a marked cynicism toward that label and what was beginning to feel like reluctant success. But this year’s release, MGMT, shows a maturity, a unified progression. It is a concrete step forward into a sound that allows an embracing of the old, as well as a deconstruction of the past, and a comfort found only in a future of recognition and self-fulfillment.

And this show, this tour, was a manifestation of that. Tourmates, Kuroma, originally the solo effort of friend and collaborator Hank Sullivant, is a big part of that. About half of it to be exact. Sullivant, along with Will Berman and James Richardson make up the bulk of both Kuroma and MGMT. Richardson opens the night on bass, swapping to guitar for the headliner, and Berman stays on drums for both sets, but Sullivant is the real missing piece. He completes the full chemistry of MGMT, fleshed out since their early Memphis beginnings by filling out the vocal melodies and rounding out the guitar parts to recreate the studio sheen that makes the group such a shining example of psych/dream-pop.

                             Kuroma (L to R: Simon O'Connor, Hank Sullivant, James Richardson, Will Berman)

The band has garnered a crowd, a following that loves them for a sound they’ve defined. They’ve been comfortable in the studio since day one, but line-up changes and fast-growing, turbulent hype, seemed to jar their live shows in the past. This performance at the Tabernacle was something new. It was confidence beyond their years. It was a strength found by surrounding themselves with songs and people in which they believed. There was no rejection of the premature hits of “Kids” and “Time to Pretend”. Early deeps cuts like “Weekend Wars”, “Pieces of What” and “Of Birds, Moons and Monsters” were re-explored. “Dan Treacy” and “Flash Delirium” were flawlessly executed, and new songs “Your Life is a Lie” (with special fan appearance) “Cool Song No. 2” and “Alien Days” showed up as the band finished up the set. They worked from material from three absolutely distinct albums, three different eras and mindsets, and managed to sound like a cohesive, moving force. It was inspiring to watch.

A veritable sea of cell phone videographers emerges to capture "Electric Feel". 

Ironically, it prohibited most from actually dancing to the song.  

It’s almost always too early to speculate as to what will remain a classic. But there’s no doubt that MGMT is a defining band in this generation of music. This is the type of band that grows by creating a community of artists and fans, firmly rooting it in the audio aesthetic of the era, extending its influence as a source, and resurrecting a recurrent sound while dodging the spoiled nature of over-exposed pop. Whatever the group creates next will follow in that path. MGMT seems to be a band of conviction. But this tour and this lineup represent a definite high in the both their and Kuroma’s careers.

Be on the lookout for Kuroma’s next studio album, Kuromarama. And be sure to grab a copy of MGMT at your local record store.

Jonny Fritz. Gentleman, Craftsman, Showman.

Going to see Mr. Fritz perform live is like stepping into a space/time continuum of undiluted songwriting and soulful country twang. It can even transport you past the awkward, shuffling, Converse, plaid mass that tried more than once to interject into some of his freeform vocal performances with an unwanted clapping rhythm.

"Stop that," he spoke in a stanza break.

Clap....Clap.......Clap..Clap...clap...

"Please. Stop it." He broke out in a grin.


The crowd laughs and is still. I don't think they know whether or not to take the man seriously. One moment he's singing about the doggone trash. And with the next verse, his words cause a heart-racing silence through the club. That's when you realize that Fritz has much more to him than meets the eye.

The EARL was his final show on a stint with Langhorne Slim, supporting his fantastically dark Dad Country. That perpetual grin is only partially covered by a half-grown beard. His slogan could be "Smart-Ass Lyrics with a Smile". He's wearing a magnificently embroidered cardigan, hiding, I would later find out, an even more magnificently embroidered denim shirt baring the likeness of his right-hand fiddleman, Josh Hedley. If his guitar didn't have "Jonny Corndawg" written in pearl down the fretboard, I'd think he stole it. His father actually made it.

But that's Jonny. Rough n' tumble, every-tattoo-tells-a-story-and-I-got-some-good-stories kinda country. These aren't tall tales, though. They weren't bought. Dad Country deals with some shit. Real shit. Stinky shit. The songs are frank. They're a glimpse into Fritz's life, both on the road and at home. Women come and go and some are missed more than others. God and hope are found and lost.

The album is great, don't get me wrong. I have the glow-in-the-dark vinyl on my turntable to prove my love. But when you strip away the production, layered harmonies, drums, bass and pedal steel, you get to see uniquely crafted duo bang out some one of a kind performances. The lit snob in me wants to call it poetry. And it's not just the lyrics. The words are powerful, but the delivery is the followthrough. It can knock you out if you let it.

Offstage, Fritz is probably one of the nicest dudes you'll ever care to meet. My girlfriend...let's call her "Holly"...tried to buy one of his guitar straps for my last birthday. He had just signed to ATO and was a bout to start the tour. He couldn't do it then, but he wrote her a friendly email apologetically declining. He remembered her when we approached him after his set. I was drunk and wanted to tell him how much I appreciated him carrying the torch of Waylon, Merle and Billy Joe. I ended up telling him how much I liked his sweater. He showed us the stitching of Josh's face on his back.

"Idn't that cool?"

He bought us a drink. We talked for a good minute. I bought a copy of the vinyl.

"Make sure they get the gift bag," he said to the lady behind the merch table. Turning to Holly, "We got these great gift bags made up for the tour.

"And make sure they get the glow-in-the dark one. And the oatmeal pie. Do you guys want a poster?"

Of course we do.

No, no, Jonny. Thank You a lot.

Set me Free, Cass McCombs

Easily one of the best songwriters in this era of music, singer/poet/public man, Cass McCombs has really struck gold with Big Wheel and Others. 

Earlier this evening, my friend...let's call him "Clint"...texted me.

Clint: "What do you think about the new Cass McCombs album?"

I, in the midst of editing a paper for my girlfriend...let's call her "Holly"...was entrenched in the bowels of MLA formats, rhetorical fallacies, and academic vocabulary (the kind of tunnel vision induced flowery language that walks the fine line between relative brilliance and positive bullshit), responded.

Stephen: "It's really just extras from his last album from what I see/hear. Cass has really hit a point where he can do little wrong in my eyes. It's like Jeff Tweedy. He could poop on some wax and I would find something artistic about the shape of the turd. Maybe I'm a little biased in that respect. But I think it's fun and has some really solid tracks. I really like the direction he's going and I f*cking love the production on these sessions. It's f*cking interesting, too. Mike Gordon from Phish is on some of these takes."


Surprisingly, 'Clint' didn't respond with "Why would anyone type that much in a text or speak in such disgusting idioms?"

And we ended up making plans to see Cass up in Nashville later this year.

My response was longwinded, but I stand by most of those comments. At that point, I'd only really listened to a couple of tracks on the way to work today. Needless to say I was impressed. Cass has never let me down thus far. It is fun. It's experimental and lively. It's inspired, different. Karen Black kills...again. Also, Bringing Mike Gordon in was a brilliant move, and the Phish bass man, as well as Joe Russo, one of my favorite drummers from way back, really rubbed off on Cass's songs (see "It Means a Lot to Know You Care", that could be a Hampton Jam next year, man.) PR-wise, I think it opens Cass up o a whole new audience. And I do still love this production. It's natural, as natural as two Cass McCombses singing in either ear can be. It's clean. Quiet and clean.

But calling them "just extras" from Humor Risk was doing the album a disservice. After a much needed (for every album) headphone session, I knew they were much more. "Risk" is a theme that runs through McCombs' songwriting. Betting it all on red. All the marbles. It seems like he is at risk of losing his at any time. He puts it all on the line with these songs, swinging with conviction from jazz to post-rock to pre-rock, R&B and everything in between. Destroying whatever's left of the walls of conventional songwriting at this point. As a songwriter, I'm jealous. As a fan, it's a real thrill ride.

Now, I have to admit, while I was hooked up to my laptop, I started to read Pitchf***k's review of this album. The writer talked about this influence and that. Dropping obscure 90's avant-garde references left and right. But after a while, I closed the window. You can't just reduce it to that. Songs like this have an air about them that deserves to be experienced.

So do.

https://soundcloud.com/dominorecordco/cass-mccombs-brighter

https://soundcloud.com/dominorecordco/cass-mccombs-there-can-be

          Good to know Cass and I have the same taste in NetFlix documentaries. 

Falling in Love Too Late

All the wasted moments, the lonely days, the silent hours. Lost. All the time, my whole life of almost two decades that I could have been listening to Gram Parsons, and I hadn't been. And yet, up until a few long years ago, I walked around, fancying myself some sort of musical expert, an alt-country connoisseur. I gobbled up everything I could get my hands on from the Bottle Rockets to Uncle Tupelo. I'd gotten close to Parsons with Sweetheart of the Rodeo. Sure, I'd read his name on some track credits. But there was a time, not too long ago, when I didn't know the difference between Gram and Gene. I thought Roger McGuinn or David Crosby had fathered the sound that I so blindly sought in my own songwriting. Now, a life where the Flying Burrito Brothers is just a mexican restaurant in New Zealand seems to me a sad existence.

The band I played with in college was often pegged as "alt-country", which was triumph for my songwriting aspirations. I was, and still am, a huge fan of Wilco, so to even be lumped into the same genre as my heroes was great for me. But I didn't understand where it all came from. I knew the Bakersfield sound. I'd heard Merle Haggard. But I couldn't see where the leap was made. What made the genre new? How did the "alt" come to be? The answer, of course, is Gram Parsons.

Arguably, it came about from the first time ol' Sneaky Pete plugged his pedal steel into a fuzz box. Kleinow has been hailed as the Hendrix of pedal steel for more reasons than that. He really brought an edge to the Burrito Brothers that was missing in contemporary acts like the Byrds. McGuinn and Co. were too pop oriented. Certainly, what they did could be considered country/rock*, but alternative they were not. Country music has always had a love affair with the Bad Boy, the Outlaw, the Drifter. They drink and fight and leave their women (though they often regret that decision). But all those characters have charm, charisma. They didn't have songs about the lonely kid in the corner, lost in a dark thought, or crying with a woman they love. They didn't talk about succumbing to a world of narcotics or issues of the day. Parsons brought this voice to life. He blended heavy elements of country twang and R&B soul with the free thought of a new generation and the tortured dichotomy of a cynical gospel.

Parsons became the grievous angel, a label that only really makes sense after you've immersed yourself in his music. A love song has never been as true to the heart as "A Song For You", and "Juanita"; Don't even get me started on that song. The arrangement, the lyrics, and that classic but compelling chord progression that provide a full, dusty canvas for Pete's rhythmic rolls and perfect sweeping bends. Parsons and Chris Hillman are really on point in this track, too. Each soulfully wandering around those harmonies, occupying their own side of the stereo. It's perfection. That whole album (Guilded Palace of Sin) is close to perfect.

But perfect wouldn't be the Burrito Brothers. It wouldn't be Gram Parsons. His songs *may* have been perfect. I say this only because I stumbled upon this fantastic compilation several months back. I really enjoy Beck and Emmylou on "Sin City", really I do. It just doesn't even compare to this. And I thoroughly appreciate Whiskeytown's version of "Song for You", but c'mon (skip to about 1:19 if you don't enjoy vintage crowd fodder). There isn't that melancholy, that soul of that original voice (a voice that even came through in his covers.  It's all too polished, too sterile. Gram and Emmylou had a special connection that is so rare to witness. I wish I could have been at one of The Fallen Angels shows. It must have such an inspiring performance. Sometimes I think about what it would have been like to live in that era. Then I realize that if, on the off chance, I happened to have heard of Gram Parsons when he was still kickin' around in 1973, I would have had to travel long distances to see him. 2013 offers me the opportunity to discover music like Gram. Music that has a real, profound effect and resonance. I guess it's never too late to fall in love. Some might say I lack any imagination in my time-traveling fantasy. Maybe. Maybe I just don't know how to end this post.

*Not like the Eagles. Gram greatly disliked the Eagles.

Television

No. This is not my long awaited op-ed about the evils and perils of TV. This is to announce (or need I say brag about my acquisition of tickets, seeing as there are only a few left) the seemingly out-of-the-blue Television show at the Georgia Theatre. Word is that they are only playing three shows in North America, and they will all consist of playing their pinnacle album, Marquee Moon in its entirety. This is a once in a lifetime show, and one that I never thought I would be able to see.

People tend to lump Television in with the Patti Smith/ Ramones/CBGB crowd. They did grow out of that scene, but geography was about the only thing they had in common with those other bands. The sound is timeless. When I first listened to their '78 debut, I thought it sounded more modern than anything new stuff I was listening to at the time. The groove was so complicated and yet so soulful. The guitars had a distinct but familiar interplay. I was smitten. It's a shame that Richard Lloyd won't be playing with the group, but Verlaine is the main component of the group. It would be a bit like seeing Hendrix at the final show in Berkeley with Billy Cox on bass. Yeah, it wasn't the Experience, but it was fuckin' Hendrix. Verlaine and Jimi are kindred souls of the musical world. It's hard to say what would have happened had Hendrix carried on into the 70's and 80's, but odds are, by 2013, he would be working the nostalgia circuit coming to an outdoor amphitheater near you.

This isn't trying to be disrespectful of Hendrix. He is and always will be the greatest and most groundbreaking guitar player to ever grace this planet. He singlehandedly changed music forever and continues to this day. But he existed in an intersection of both time and space where guitar technology, culture, drugs, his songwriting and popular music taste all aligned in a glorious three or four year harmonium. Had Hendrix lived any longer into the 1970's, the world would have combusted. Or, more likely, he would have innovated himself into obscurity. He would have gone the way of Clapton in the 80's and 90's. Maybe even the wretched path of Steve Winwood. He would have been on the forefront of synths and drum machines just because that was how his brain worked. Once technology had let him off of his leash, he would be free to delve into projects and ideas that the world wouldn't have been ready for. He moved quicker than most musical minds, there was just a brief period in the beginning where we could catch up to it. Hendrix's music, though, has the benefit of being frozen in time.

Verlaine does not have that luxury. And his time of alignment was shorter. But where Hendrix took the blues, soul, fuzzed out guitar and LSD, and morphed them into the Experience, Verlaine took punk, avant-garde, minimalistic production and literature and turned them into Television. Critics at the time were hip to the importance of their sound, but they only really rose to attracting a cult-following for a brief period. Television broke up and got back together a few times over the years, but none of the members garnered much more attention. Verlaine went on to create several albums that stumbled into the 80's, but they got bogged down in the production standards of the decade.

On some level, it's sad to see an act rehashing an old album on tour, but at this point in Television's career it's a healthy way to look back at the unrivaled piece of art that came together in 1978. Creating an album at the caliber of Marquee Moon is worth a lifetime of achievement. It was and still is something larger than the band. If you can catch one of the shows in this country, please do. It will certainly be a high point in your concert-going career.

Shame, Shame Jack White

The exploitation of celebrities and stars by the paparazzi and sympathizers like TMZ or the like is disturbing to me on the deepest of levels. I certainly don't buy into their formulated and manipulative opinions of people whom they choose to raise up or demonize. Mostly because I don't really care about the people that frequent the tabloids. But I must admit that when my friend Connor sent me a text message all the way from Brooklyn concerning Jack White's latest divorce craziness, it sent me into a bit of a frenzy. White was calling Dan Auerbach, 1/2 of the Black Keys (official) lineup, an a*shole "ripoff" for "copy[ing] me and push[ing] himself into my world" (exact quotes). I don't mind admitting that I lost a sizable amount of respect for the president of Third Man Records, whose logos were all over those damn emails, upon reading that quote.

Now, I'm having a difficult time seeing why White was bringing up Auerbach in the first place. The email is about a mediation concerning their separation gone awry, so maybe I'll give Jack the benefit of the doubt and assume it's Stan Auerbach, Dan's brother, who stole his wife and all of his peppermint-candy-themed undies. Those are the only circumstances under which I would grant White the right to talk about a man named Auerbach and get away with it.



Otherwise, it would seem somewhat hypocritical for a man who has openly professed his reliance on classic blues. If anything, early Auerbach and Carney sound more like Junior Kimbrough (they even recorded Chulahoma: The Songs of Junior Kimbrough). Regardless, they've gone in a whole new sonic direction. From Danger Mouse's experimental production of Attack and Release onward, the Keys had developed something all their own, and something radically different. Even rap. It eventually turned into an over-produced, fluffed up outfit that indulged in elements that the duo had only flirted with before (Brothers represents the threshold there). I'm not personally a fan of them now (I only have enough love for two band members), but I felt Auerbach needed some defense in this case: The Black Keys sounds nothing like the White Stripes, whose definition of "over-produced" is adding a piano or letting Meg sing.

Even the Keys' covers of old blues standards hold a much more raw tone. More cutting and muff'd guitars. Dirtier, more technical drums. Certainly more distorted, compressed vocals.

Auerbach was a bluesman. White was songwriter well-versed in the blues. Today, Auerbach is a pop songwriter with a blues background and White is a songwriter who has made the full transition into the logical next step of Rock-n-Roll. He's even dumped his Airline for a Gretsch and his Silvertone for boutique amps.

White went on to Dead Weather and Raconteurs because the Stripes' sound had run its course. They had taken the vintage fuzzed-out 60's cheapo guitar, caveman drummer formula as far as it would go. The man is not only a fantastic musician, but also a smart business man. He treads a fine line there, and somehow still stays cool. I just hope that he has not been carrying around these sentiments since the Black Keys came on the scene. That would be incredibly disheartening. I hate losing respect for people. Especially those whose music I enjoy so much.

But I'm not fit to judge the man's character. So, I'll let you all decide whether or not White is justified in his comments, just having an off-day and blowing off steam 'cuz he inherited Jay-Z's only non-problem, or if he is just mad that the Dead Weather is just not that amazing of a band. Feel free to comment.

The Futurebirds are like a(n even more) stoned Neil Young and Co.

plus a bit more reverb...especially in this Hear YA session.

Just check out those caterwauling harmonies in Serial Bowls, and Neil Young's For the Turnstiles.

And tasteful Lap Steel parts are always key to the best songs. Kudos to Ben Keith and Dennis Love. Examples include: really most of the Birds' tunes, and Neil's classics, but hell I love this song: Harvest

Let's be honest, Futurebirds has fantastic production on their albums, but anyone who has seen them play will agree: they are best live. Ex: American Cowboy. Those raw vocals, Thomas. Hot damn. They sound worn out, road tested, smoked and barbequed. Much like my main men Neil and Co. Tonight's the Night's Come on Baby Let's go Downtown (They also had multiple vocalists in the band, in this case it's Danny Whitten).

What Brannon Miles and Billy Talbot (and even Rick Danko behind Neil) have in common: Understated bass lines that f***ing deliver- Death Awaits, Roll Another Number (for the road).

They switch it up live, or slow things down, but they still keep it Toit like a Toiger. See: Tan Lines, Everybody Knows this is Nowhere.


Futurebirds takes some of the key elements of Neil Young's classic (some Stray Gators, some Crazy Horsi) band and sound and puts them in a more euphoric light. This isn't to say that the lyrics of the Birds can't get dark. They can. Especially in their latest release. Somehow, even songs like "Death Awaits" and "Heavy Weights" (probably one of my favorites from Baba Yaga) have an uplifting quality to them (even those both songs literally sound heavy---weights, awaits. Ha ha). There is a lot more that the 'Birds have in common with StrazyHorse. Including sounding great on vinyl. This HearYa Session is free, but bands need and deserve support.

And if you haven't checked out Hearya.com. Please do. They have other fantastic sessions like
This one. This one. And this one. (even this one).

The Genius of Burt Bacharach and Reforming Top 40

I know Elvis Costello has been bringing Burt and lyricist Hal David's music back into the forefront with his revival of their tunes and even a collaboration with Bacharach in the late 90's, but I think it's time a new generation of musicians learned the calculated beauty of the duo's songwriting.

These tunes embody the music theory behind writing a pop song. The chord changes are familiar without being repetitive, exciting without being jarring, and catchy without being annoying. These are the melodies that get stuck in your head even when you hear them in passing. You find yourself humming them all day and you may not even know why, but that is the beauty of wonderfully applied music theory. Those progressions and melodies are formulated to appeal to everyone's ear. So, whether they are being performed by Jackie DeShannon, Dusty Springfield, The Carpenters, Costello or even the White Stripes the structure of the songs is what shines through. It transcends the artist or production.

I would defy any guitarist/keyboardist to learn a Bacharach/David tune and not be able to put your own spin on it and make it appealing to your audience, be they metalheads or Bieber-ites. The state of pop radio today is sad and weak at best. Repetition has replaced structure. The thinking today seems to be, "if we repeat a chorus enough, it'll stick." This isn't an indie-kid/old rocker rant. I don't want to put experimental or potentially off-putting songs on the radio just because my weird music brain likes them from time to time. I just yearn for pop songs that everyone enjoys, even as a guilty pleasure. I'll be the first to admit that I am a sucker for a good pop song, but I haven't heard a solidly written tune on top 40 for a long while. To quote Zeppelin, "Where's that confounded bridge?". Adele needs to find it!

I firmly believe if we begin to revive the music of Bacharach/David, Manilow, Holland/Dozier/Holland, we can bring about another generation of songwriters that write with their pop sensibility. Another Paul Simon, Lennon or McCartney, Neil Young or Elvis Costello. Something has been diluted and lost since them, and we need to return to those roots. We don't need to revive, but reaffirm a foundation for new growth in pop music.

A nod to my buddy...

...Glenn Brigman (of Ty Segall anecdote fame- see first post), who just released a new single with his band Triptides on Stroll on Records.

Congrats, man! Sounds great.

Triptides- Set You Free

Admitting Defeat...

This past Monday, the new group of very talented musicians with whom I'm currently playing under the moniker of Tres Tigres Tristes, played a really fanastic songwriting showcase at the famous Eddie's Attic in Decatur, GA. We did not win, or even advance to the top 5; regardless, it was an exciting night, and we gladly bowed to those who made the cut. The talent in the room was palpable. We met some amazing musicians that night, we picked up a couple of gigs, and were invited back by the emcee to play next month.

The winner that night, Catherine Feeny, truly stole the whole show. The first song she played quieted the whole venue. I looked at our bass player, Will, and mouthed Holy sh*t. She's gonna win. Anyone in the room could have seen it coming. We were all fortunate enough to watch her play another song in the finals, and the emcee coaxed her group into playing four additional songs after most of the audience had gone home. Feeny was there with her friends, Sama Dams, who also played an incredibly electric guest slot at the showcase and backed her up on the last few tunes. Katie, Will and I were able to enjoy an intimate little set with the ten folks that were lucky enough to stay behind. Still, it was that first song that really caught my ear. I went home and downloaded it (along with the rest of her album, America). It's called "Spill it All Over the Ground". It's phenomenal, and, not that she needs it, but good luck, Catherine. [Even] Great[er] things are in your future (she's already opened for Wilco...super jelly).

                                     Catherine Feeny- Spill it All Over the Ground

Top 10 Guitarists of the 2000's

For my first entry on the Dark Prince Jeffrey music blog I wanted to make a list. Lists seem to be popular (or controversially unpopular and therefore popular) on the interweb these days. This list, though, has a place close to my heart. I've been playing and writing guitar parts for almost ten years now, and I feel that through this I have developed a deep relationship with the instrument and established a brotherly empathy with those trying to "make it" in this crazy world of modern music. 

All of these artists began releasing music after 2000. All of the other lists I could find under this title included artists that have been established since the 90's (Jack White, Tom Morello, John Fruciante) So perhaps I should have titled this, "Top 10 Relatively Unknown Guitarists of the Past Decade". And most likely the few people who read/care about this list will scratch their heads at some of the names on here, but I fully intend to justify each and every choice I've made. All of these artists are unique, but what they have in common is ability to compose tasteful melodies, guitar parts that compliment the song and are not shredding or wanking, and undeniable skill that constantly inspires and makes me excited to play the instrument.

It should be noted that this is not a ranking, and I'm sorry if I missed anyone.

1. Kevin Parker- Tame Impala

One listen to the powerhouse riff of "Half Full Glass of Wine"will have anyone bobbing their head in a hypnotic groove. The thing that really puts Parker on this list is the fact that he always leaves you wanting more (i.e. the solo at the end of the aforementioned track). His guitar playing isn't precise or virtuosic, but it is so damn tasteful. It builds the song in the best ways possible. Note the solo that transitions into the backbone of the chaos at the end of "Keep on Lying". Tame Impala is really starting to catch on these days, and Parker's playing and writing have everything to do with that.

2. Daniel Rossen- Grizzly Bear, Department of Eagles

You'll rarely hear Rossen play a solo in the traditional sense, but his chord compositions and counter-melody lines are so texturally and tastefully complex that they are impossible to ignore. They can't help but become the focal point of the tracks. Not to mention the signature guitar tone that he has honed over Grizzly Bear's four album, two EP career that comes from a beautiful vintage Guild T-50 into a Fender amp with the reverb cranked. His acoustic playing is also incredibly non-traditional. It really shines in "Southern Point", which could be one of my favorite tracks of all time.

3. Hank Sullivant- Kuroma, 1000 AD

Sullivant is one of the greatest unsung guitar heros of this age of music. On Kuroma's first album, Paris Sullivant builds a really classic sound. He is the first on the list that really caters to the "guitar solo" in the most traditional sense. Don't mistake this for him being a showboat, though. His solos really evolve the tracks. And his rhythm playing ain't nothin' to scoff at, either. Sullivant has a great pop sensibility, and his songwriting has only gotten stronger in recent years. Kuroma's second album Psychopomp is the best album you've never heard, and if you like great experimental pop you will be kicking yourself for not picking it up sooner. For newer stuff, check out this side project 1000 A.D.. Rumor has it that Kuroma has a new album in the works. Be on the look out.

4. Ty Segall- solo, Reverse Shark Attack, Fuzz

One of the youngest on the list, Segall has really made a name for himself in the last few years. The dude has one of the most raw, cut-your-head-off styles out there today. Your ears will be ringing for days after seeing him play live. Segall's guitar playing is no-nonsense f*ckin rawk, but he isn't sloppy. In fact, despite his garage-y sound, he is very pretty true to his playing on the records. He's a showman for sure with a ton of talent and limitless potential. An anecdote for the road: My buddy Glenn and I saw him at the Earl in Atlanta a couple years back. After the show we had a great conversation with him about the Kinks, among other topics. He signed Glenn's copy of Melted with the note, "Ray Davies is God. Let us go to church." A reverence for the classics. Just another reason this kid will go far. That and his ability to tastefully twist knobs on delay pedals.

5. Oliver Wood- Wood Brothers

Wood is definitely the rootsiest player on the list, but he does not constrain himself to traditional playing in the least. His compositions are deceptively simple. His voice is sweet and his playing is 100% soul. Tracks like "Glad" off Ways Not to Lose are prime examples of this. Being the only guitar player in the bass/guitar duo with his brother, Chris (who also plays with Medeski, Martin and Wood), Oliver has to fill out the composition. This takes an amount of skill that is easy to overlook, but is something that everybody should appreciate. He is incredible at slide, as well. The solo on this track gives me goosebumps every time.

6. Patrick Flegel/Christopher Reimer- Women

Experimental does not even begin to describe the guitar playing on Women's two full length LP's. Their second album, Public Strain is a triumph of haunting noise-rock. The compositions are like journeys through dissonant shadows that, at the very moment that you think they have reached their darkest, pull you up into the light of resolution. The interplay between Flegel and Reimer's guitars is incredibly complex, and at times harkens back to the Verlaine/Lloyd guitar dynamic of Television. Listening to either of Women's albums, I constantly catch myself thinking, How the Hell are they doing that? The chord structures and suspensions that they employ are nothing short of extraordinary, and the precision with which the two guitarists must play together is really something to be admired. Unfortunately, Reimer passed away last year, and the shaky construction of the band may have crumbled for good. Remember him through amazing tracks like this:

7. Kurt Vile

Vile is just one of those players that comes along every once in a while that takes a whole new approach to the instrument. The alternate tunings, the non-traditional fingerpicking styles, and use of effects on acoustic guitars all amount to a fantastic, original sound. Vile also has one of the most unique sense of melodies that I've ever had the pleasure to hear. His production has recently become a little more radio-friendly, but he isn't rolling over or selling out. He is using the bigger budget and more open tape to create an even more complex sound. Still, sometimes I miss the drum machines.

8. John Dwyer- Thee Oh Sees

I've been on a huge Oh Sees kick ever since I got their new album, Floating Coffin. Dwyer is another fuzzfiend. Recently, he developed a new fuzz pedal with Death By Audio called the Fuzz War Overload, and it is all over the new album (DBA also provides pedals for #4, Ty Segall). Dwyer also has a really unique gear set-up that accounts for somewhat of a signature sound. He often plays a Burns 12-string with their Trisonic pickups into some fuzz and often uses a Whammy pedal to throw in octave sweeps, which can be heard in songs like "The Dream". His experimental and at times almost avant-garde playing really distinguishes Thee Oh Sees from any other garage-y rock band out there, and they've really hit their groove with this lastest output. This is my favorite track off Floating Coffin.

9. Ruban Nielsen- Unknown Mortal Orchestra

Getting toward the end of the list, I had a lot of trouble deciding between these last few names (hence the Runner-up section), but Nielsen made the list for one reason: the solo on "Ffunny Ffriends". This was the first track the world ever heard from UMO, and Nielsen released it on a nameless, information-less Bandcamp account. I love the combination of R&B grooves, psychedelic tones and lo-fi production, but the solo is really something special. Nielsen serves as an experimental filter for all these genres. He employs a great combination of funky chords, thumbpicking and hammer-ons, not to mention his love of funky old effects like the Roland Funny Cat. This is also the only live video on the list. This is because a) youtube live videos are usually crap-tastic cellphone quality and b) he shreds even harder on this version than on the studio track (plus that Copperphone mic looks and sounds so great.) 

10. Mac Demarco

Any guitar player that describes his gear as stuff that "no serious musician would ever use", or his genre as "jizz jazz" is A.O.K (almost obtusely kick-ass) in my book. (Plus, I have to have at least two Canadian artists on any list that I make, according to secret Canadian--I've said too much...) But not about Demarco, who is quickly becoming one of my favorite songwriters/guitarists out there. There is something just magnetic about the funky riffs and lo-fi sound of his guitar tones. He comps some really fantastic chords and is a hell of a rhythm player. His lead lines serve as fantastic counter melodies that are anything but traditional, and create a great dichotomy from the funky chords he employs. He is going to be another one to watch in years to come. 

Runner-ups:

John McCauley- Deer Tick
Tim Presley- White Fence
Cass McCombs
Matt Mondanile- Ducktails, Real Estate