Agit Reader

Frightened Rabbit

2008-06-29T15:46:07Z

If misery loves company, then Frightened Rabbit is about to have a packed house
by Kevin J. Elliott

Most young Scottish bands making their first go-round through the States aren't too concerned with radio play or filming videos for pay cable. They're just worried about filling the club, collecting souvenirs and making a good first impression. But when your album is being universally praised and your live show touted as an uplifting experience, like scruffy trio Frightened Rabbit and their sophomore statement The Midnight Organ Fight (Fatcat), it's hard not to envision the spoils of success.

That overwhelming praise stems mostly from the record's blunt honesty and foul language, pieced together from the life experiences (no matter how miserable) of singer/guitarist Scott Hutchinson. Along with his brother Grant, who plays drums, and guitarist Billy Kennedy (bassist Andy Monaghan joined the band after the album's completion), Hutchinson crafted one of 2008's indelible pop treasures, no matter how bleak lyrics. Fusing folk elements with traditional indie blueprints, grand sonic arrangements with intimate and effortless melodies, songs like the skittered anthem "Heads Roll Off" and the hopeful suicide note of "Floating In the Forth" display a group far beyond their years and one on the precipice of hit singles (even if they swear to never stop swearing).

It's fitting that a band who seemed to suddenly come out of nowhere (at least to American unfamiliar with their debut, Sings the Greys) was finally tracked down driving through the middle of nowhere. Somewhere between the vast nothing of New Mexico and west Texas, I got a hold of Hutchinson to ask him some pressing questions about leg fetishes and if he's ever thought to hold his tongue in exchange for platinum.

I've been to Glasgow before and loved the mix of ugly and beautiful, old and new. Certainly the city had an influence on your songwriting and the sound of the band, but what specific elements of the city do you think inspire you the most?
Scott Hutchinson: I don't know. We've got the best and worst weather in Scotland as well. There is always two weeks where there is nothing but rain, followed by two weeks with nice crisp sunshine. I don't know if it's an influence, but we've always got the hope of that good weather right around the corner, where in other places like the UK, it's always grey and shit. I like that Scotland has that reputation—that there's light at the end of the tunnel.

Is there anything traditionally Scottish you try and include in the music? The first time we talked you brought up the influence of country.
SH: Not really on purpose, I guess, but my mom and dad used to play in folk bands in the north of Scotland. It's not that Scottish people have adopted country; we have our own form of country and it's got the same fast fiddle that kind of sounds like bluegrass, and we've got the fingerpicking. Most of our songs start with that folk basis, and then we try to combine it with pop or rock elements.

And how about within the Glasgow scene? Is it as close-knit and productive as we'd like to believe over here?
SH: It's close-knit because it's actually a pretty small city and there aren't that many bars that you'd actually want to be in. There's like two or three where most people in bands drink, and that's your social network and that's what works. You get to know everyone in all the bands without much effort.

I hear a ton of Arab Strap's influence in your music. Am I mistaken? Are they like untouchable hometown heroes or just guys you meet at the pub?
SH: Honestly I didn't really get into them until after this record was done. I guess I was more into Malcolm Middleton's last record and his previous work than Arab Strab. The thing with them is that they're entertainers, but they're also not to scene-y and that's definitely the reason I like them. As far as contact, I'm pretty sure Malcolm was at one of our recent shows, but he had to leave.

Into the record, is the whole idea of "The Modern Leper" a metaphor of how you place yourself in the world?
SH: Yeah. I mean, I feel a lot different now then I did at that time. But, absolutely, for sure. I guess maybe the thing we have in common with Arab Strap is that we've both had some bad times with girls. I'm pretty sure that Adrian Moffitt's been through some rough relationships.

Lots of the songs deal with abjectness, self-loathing and loneliness. Was there a central theme or concept to The Midnight Organ Fight or are these just a series of autobiographies?
SH: Entirely—that's the whole point of it. Most of it comes out of that one specific time. All of the themes and words in there, all of that shit was going on. Almost all of the songs are autobiographical of maybe half a year of my life.

If I'm to believe the lyrics as reality, it sounds like you've had a rough time with relationships. How's the love-life these days?
SH: Better. I'm in a different frame of mind these days, which helps. The songs were written some time ago, so a lot can change—and has—which is good.

Referring in particular to "Keep Yourself Warm," though there are plenty of naughty parts to the record, do you ever find yourself editing your words in an effort not to offend?
SH: I've never done that and I'd never want to do that. I'm trying to use language that I and the people around me use. I probably hear the word "fuck"—especially being in this band—maybe 30 to 50 times a day. So I'm not going to edit general language so that maybe we can get better airplay. Actually, our manager got a request from a radio station asking if we could do a clean version. But what are you going to change the word "fucking" to? It takes more than "snuggling" someone or "hugging" someone to keep yourself warm? So no, there's harsh language and we're going to use it.

I guess I'm asking a hypothetical question, but the closest "mainstream" band I link you guys to is Snow Patrol, and it appears that over the years they've dulled their edges for pop stardom. With such a tremendous accomplishment in Midnight Organ Fight, your profile on both shores is getting quite large in a short amount of time. What would you do if faced with a larger record label who would only sign you if you toned things down?
SH: I'd like to think not. I think I want to try and move away from the whole theme of that last record, but really not change the lyrical content because that's true to the way that I communicate. So I don't think so. Come back to me in a year. I think it would be a disappointment and disheartening to some people for whom this has helped in some way.

Or an opposing question: while you've now become inundated with some months of critical and commercial success and plenty of good times on tour, does that make it harder to tap into the despair that fuels your songwriting? Or is it just as easy for you to write a happy song?
SH: Well none of that has affected me to this point, but I think that that's a definite challenge and I look forward towards expressing any type of fame. We've totally veered towards the black side of life and its darker parts, and I'd love to try to avoid that next time. No one wants to hear another complete record of break-up songs, so that's definitely not what the next record is going to be.

There is more than one reference to "hiking up one's skirt" on the record. Do I sense a leg fetish? I mean, if we're going to get dirty here, you might as well spill it all.
SH: Funny you should mention that—and this is going to sound so weird—but you know under-skirts, like a petticoat, that are silky? My mom used to wear those when I was a toddler, and I used to constantly have my hand up my mom's skirt, feeling the silk. It's really weird, but it was totally asexual at the time. It got to the point where she just gave me one, and I would always be carrying an under-skirt around for most of my early years.

Do you have any plans after the tour? Do you have a new album mapped out already? Is there a certain direction you'd like to head?
SH: Well, first we have to go back to Europe and do a full European tour. We'll be touring for the rest of the year, coming back to the U.S. in autumn. When the time comes to write a record, I will. There are bits and pieces, but I really need to focus my effort rather than write on the road. The new record is far from done.

Two New Pink Reason Singles

2008-06-26T21:45:41Z

Two new Pink Reason Singles:
Winona and "Borrowed Time"
by Doug Elliott

The Pink Reason singles that have surfaced in these early days of summer provide two completely different windows into the bedroom angst of Kevin DeBroux and company. First up is Winona, a 33 rpm 7-inch on Woodsist that collects the very first recordings under the Pink Reason moniker. Here DeBroux, collaborating with Shaun Failure, concocts a sound as far away from the fast, short and skuzzy bands he'd become accustomed to in Wisconsin over the years, taking cues from acid rock and folk bands instead of crusty punk.

The title track is a long, acoustic ballad about a trip to Winona, Minnesota that found them camping in the middle of the Mississippi River. If it weren't so damn stark—and DeBroux's voice so baritone—it could be confused as an outtake from Neil's Harvest record. It is exactly the type of song that Kevin later perfected on tracks like "Goodbye" from last year's Cleaning the Mirror, but "Winona" is worthy of repeated listens beyond its historical perspective. "Give Yourself Away" is a little more interesting, a gnarly take on the early Stooges sound, complete with a fried guitar lead and one-note piano ala "I Wanna Be Your Dog." Keeping with the theme of jittery isolation, DeBroux caps off the EP with "Letting Go," where he sings, "It's all over now. Why is it so hard to sleep?" A fitting end to the very beginning.

Seeing as DeBroux has always been in control of his own career arc, it is no mistake that Winona (length: 6:48) coincides with the "Borrowed Time" single, his briefest and most hardcore-sounding song to date. You could call the A-side, clocking in at just over a minute, a waste of precious vinyl space, but I think it works at isolating the song's message. This blistering, trebly anthem may not be the prototypical Pink Reason song, but the theme could be Kevin condensed into a minute of your time: waking up on floors, empty pockets, (failed) attempts at joining society while it flies right by you, realizing that "society" is shit. If only Danzig was this concise.

On the flip is "Scared Shitless," a cut reminiscent of late-period V-3, back when paranoia was Jim Shepard's only friend. You get the feeling Shep and DeBroux would've gotten along just fine. Musically it also reminds one of Pink Reason's early live sound, back when it was Kevin, Shaun and a computer playing a sort of strobe-shocked My Bloody Valentine, feedback piercing eardrums and colliding with the double guitar attack.

Two more fine singles to continue a perfect streak. Go to Fashionable Idiots to beg for a "Borrowed Time" repress. Fuck it Tapes should have Winona in stock.

BlondieParallel Lines Deluxe Collector's Edition(Capitol)

2008-06-26T05:04:57Z

by Josie Rubio

With the 30th anniversary of Blondie's Parallel Lines, Capitol has released a deluxe collector's edition of the album that first debuted in 1978. The third release from vocalist Deborah Harry, guitarists Chris Stein and Frank Infante, bassist Nigel Harrison, drummer Clem Burke and keyboardist Jimmy Destri put them on the map with hits such as "One Way or Another" and "Heart of Glass." Upon listening to the iconic release, it's difficult to believe that it's been three decades since it was recorded. Maybe that's because the songs still can be heard, whether it's on dance floors or in commercials for dusters, phone services or snacks. And Blondie's music—and fashion sense—has been emulated by other musicans in the '80s, '90s and currently—respectively by Madonna, No Doubt and "new new wave" bands such as the Killers and indie popsters the Ting Tings. The tracks on Parallel Lines seem timeless, as does Blondie's appeal—whether it's to young hipsters at '80s dance and karaoke nights or to the more mature, dusting (but not dusty) market that Swiffer apparently hopes to capture.

The album starts with "Hanging on the Telephone," the band's cover of the Nerves' song originally recorded in 1976. (More recently, it also was recorded by Chan Marshall of Cat Power for a Cingular commercial.) The punk-infused song is followed by "One Way or Another" and showcases Harry's tougher vocal style. When she purr/growls, "I'm gonna getcha," it's very believable. (Or, sadly, you think about a dusting product that purports to get all dust.) Conversely, there's "Just Go Away" the hit's B-side, where an annoying lover is told, "Don't go away mad. Just go away," and in which a male chorus back-up chimes in "Get out, pack up, move out."

"Fade Away and Radiate" begins with a simple drum beat and Harry's crooning, before Blondie's signature keyboards and electric guitars and bass kick in. This is also where the band's reggae influence first rears its beat, as also evident in "Heart of Glass." By now, the "Ooo-oh" and the trademark keyboards, bass and guitars are some of the most easily recognizable sounds in music. "Picture This" is a sweet ballad, as is "Pretty Baby," with '50s harmonies and a playful speaking part. However, even when pleading for someone to notice her, Harry never comes off as a damsel in distress, part of which makes her one of the mothers of New Wave, and a strong frontwoman.

Oddly enough, the one song that really doesn't hold up is one of the more recently recorded remix bonus tracks, "Hanging on the Telephone (Nosebleed Handbag Remix)" engineered by Mick Shiner from 1995's Beautiful: The Remix Album. The thumping, repetitive track from the '90s seems kind of clunky and dated, and doesn't hold up as well as the 1978 version. "Fade Away and Radiate (108 BMP Remix)," also from 1995—remixed by Black Dog for Remixed Remade Remodeled—fares better. The beats mixed are noninvasive and work into the song's musical tapestry, and the haunting beauty of the original is kept intact.

The reissue also includes a DVD of four videos; starting with "Heart of Glass," filmed at Studio 54; while the intro and end of the video show vignettes of New York City circa 1979, including the Ed Sullivan Theater and the World Trade Center. And it's no secret that the camera loved the stunning Harry, whose image has become as iconic as the music. "Hanging On the Telephone" is a simple video with the band against a black and white striped background, like the cover of Parallel Lines. At one point, Destri goofs around with a red telephone prop's cord to signify the song literally, and reminds us of a time when people actually had to wait by the phone. There's also "Picture This," as well as a performance of "Sunday Girl" from the BBC's Top of the Pops. In the latter, Harry demurely sings wearing a variation of a sailor suit dress, but her red tights and sunglasses let you know she's a girl next door with a twist. That's always been part of her contradictory appeal: Harry can turn from sweet chanteuse to punk frontwoman all while maintaining cool elegance with a sassy streak. And Blondie has always walked the parallel lines of being innovative, accessibly pop and continually relevant enough to become a ubiquitous and beloved fiber woven through pop culture.

The Agit Report from Terrastock 7

2008-06-25T03:12:28Z

Louisville and the Melwood Arts Center was the site of Terrastock 7, a four-day event that boasted a packed line-up of the world's most intriguing psychedelic musicians. Your Agit-staffers on the ground felt like strangers in a strange land from the beginning, drifting Saturday and Sunday (June 21 and 22) amongst the drone weirdos, dancing townies, acid casualties and collector freaks—though we could perceivably fall into each category. The former industrial compound was the perfect backdrop for a weekend of out-sounds and the Derby City's southern bohemian charms were complementary surroundings for extracurricular exploring.

Highlights include a blistering set from Oneida, who in addition to playing one seemingly endless locked primal groove, rode through the peaks and valleys of their new album, a singular statement with enough twists and turns to confuse and delight. It was then time for the Wooden Shjips to crest beneath the sweltering midday sun. The lax security of the event made sure heads could be heads. Later both Kinski's and Bardo Pond's lysergia drenched sets were accompanied by Acid Mother Temple's Makoto Kawabata on guitar, who was the unspoken mayor of this year's Terrastock. He was seen taking in just about every performance, looking like a furry holy goblin and smelling like opium heaven. There was certainly a cloud of mysticism following him wherever he went.

Those of a more rockist bent were floored by Norway's Motorpsycho. With their elongated solos and generally hypnotic psych-thrash, they made up for rarely playing in the States. They dominated like the ultimate arena dinosaurs. Likewise a reformed Simply Saucer didn't let a rain delay hinder the resurrection of their Cyborgs Revisited space-wonk. Though skeptical that the band might not have the fire they once possessed, the abstract sonics were kept intact, as was the trashy '70s junkie shuffle of the tunes.

If volume wasn't your thing (you'd likely to have been advised to avoid Mono's pummeling quiet/loud monoliths as well) there was plenty of softer, gentler folk that was still saturated in color you could taste. MV & EE with the Golden Road put on a quaint late-afternoon hootenanny that showcased plenty of rambling jams, while Jack Rose traversed a wood more traditional, picking delicately through the Fahey modal like an astral surgeon.

And that's just the tip of a long weekend coasting and combusting, wet and dry, sobering up and drinking down. Much like the peaceful meditative prayer performed by Pelt on gongs and medicine bowls, I could go on and on.
Kevin J. Elliott

reviews 6.24.08

2008-06-24T04:02:25Z

Sigur Rós
Med Sud I Eyrum Vid Spilum Endalaust
(XL)

After four albums of heavenly din and otherworldly atmospherics, Icelandic troupe Sigur Rós has returned to Earth for its fifth and latest release, Med Sud I Eyrum Vid Spilum Endalaust (roughly translated as "with a buzz in our ears we play endlessly" in English). Not that the album is any less brilliant than the band's previous work, but they have taken a more "natural" approach for the new record. If this wasn't evident from the bare bums of the album's cover then it certainly is on opener "Gobbledigook," which begins with some acoustic strums and a chorus of "la-la's" before a stomping drumbeat comes in to take charge. The song, perhaps the highlight of Med Sud, is a near perfect melding of pastoral tones, honeyed vocals and primal rhythm that reveals that Sigur Rós can just as well make do with a minimum of implements.

"Inni Mer Syngur Vitleysingur," the subsequent cut, takes a similar tact, with a simple piano and big beat juxtaposing with singer Jon Thor Birgisson's relatively tempered vocals. But this time the band is unable to constrain itself, horns elevating the song for a skyrocketing crescendo. It becomes quickly apparent that despite the lack of bowed electric guitars and and other artificial sonics, Sigur Rós can't be tied down. "Festival," an epic nine-minute track, begins as an Icelandic aria, with Birgission showing the full majesty of his voice when paired with just some simple organ tones, before soaring to new heights when bass, drums and horns bring the song to a thunderous, requiem-like end. But even such grandiosity can't compare with "Ara Batur," for which the band enlisted 90 musicians and singers from the London Sinfonietta and London Oratory Boy's Choir to again take them heavenward.

Med Sud represents several firsts for the band. They recorded outside of Iceland (in Havana, New York and London) for the first time, and it contains their first song sung in English ("All Alright"). But while the organic approach may seem new too, it hasn't impaired the band from creating a record touched with the divine, albeit made of earthly delights.
Stephen Slaybaugh

Edwin McCain
Nobody's Fault But Mine
(Saguaro Road)

For artists who have a touch of "blue-eyed soul" it's perhaps inevitable that they'll release a cover album paying homage to their influences. This is the path Edwin McCain follows with the release of Nobody's Fault But Mine.

McCain is probably best known for the wedding staple "I'll Be." While no one would mistake it for an R&B song, the style of McCain's vocals definitely does lend to this type of endeavor. Everything about Nobody's Fault seems designed to make sure that McCain will win big. The house band is stacked with crack players including Ivan Neville and Booker T. & the MG's rhythm guitarist Steve Cropper. All the tracks were recorded live in one or two takes, which further showcases McCain strengths as a live performer. So why does the record fall kind of short?

Part of the problem lies in the song selection. McCain decided to tackle classic R&B and soul songs by a variety of legendary artists, among them Marvin Gaye, Wilson Picket and the Temptations. Naturally, when an artist covers a song, there's no way to avoid being compared to the original. Even though McCain throws himself into the songs with gusto, on the more recognizable cuts he doesn't do enough to make them his own. The performances work better on the relatively more obscure songs such as "T.C.B. or "T.Y.A." and the title track because the originals aren't so omnipresent. Another problem is that with such an amazing band, the tracks sound relatively bloodless. The songs are played well and every solo and transition is perfectly placed, but there aren't many wow moments. There are some, such as the guitar work on "Who's Making Love," which has a certain unhinged quality that the record should have had in larger amounts. And "(I Know) I'm Losing You" has an energy that matches McCain's delivery of tense desperation.

There are places where Nobody's Fault hits the mark. The duet of McCain and Joan Osborne on Otis Redding's "I've Got Dreams To Remember" has a quiet yearning in the interplay of their voices. And many of the tracks feature at least one moment where McCain tears into the songs with such energy and conviction it's almost shocking. Nobody's Fault isn't a bad record and will probably tear down the house when performed live, but it's not quite as great as it could have been.
Dorian S. Ham

Hercules and Love Affair
Hercules and Love Affair
(DFA)

Revisiting James Murphy and Pat Mahoney's Fabric mix from last year, it's safe to project that the future of their band and the DFA label is propelled by the obscuro post-disco and rare groove that oozed from the pulsating NYC streets of the late '70s and early '80s. Disco is dead (at least the mainstreamed, coke-crusted, champagne 'n' cum variety has been for decades), but those transient years between Studio 54 and the dawn of Detroit house contained a fertile blend, with an ear towards pop and minimalism, experimentation and extravagance. Though the luxury pushers had left the scene, the decadence remained in the music, from the loose, awkward sides of Arthur Russell to the earnest queer-core vamp of Bronski Beat. DJ Andrew Butler, the whiz behind Hercules and Love Affair's debut album, is aware of every lacquered inch, crafting a dancefloor-required set of high art that pulls from multiple scenes, kind of stitching it all together in order to push towards the new century.

He's also well aware of the importance of a grand diva. Without the voice of Antony Hegarty (of Johnsons fame) on "Blind," the urgency of the horn blasts and the drama in the bassline might be completely lost. Here (and on four other worthwhile tracks) Hegarty is Sylvester as possessed by Nina Simone; he's quite confident in his heartache and empowerment, even if he's out of his element. Elsewhere, Butler's choice in singers, the transsexual Nomi and Kim Ann Foxman, provide soothing relief to the tragedy in Hegarty's arias, particularly on the ethereal rattle and slither of "Iris" that's reminiscent of Yaz in the chill-out tent. The track is pickled with soft-glow tones shining to pattern a crisp melody along, while scattered house rhythms congeal to form the velvet "You Belong."

Despite Hegarty stealing the stage light, it's Butler behind the curtain who's constantly turning the disco on its head. Rarely sitting in the middle, his compositions tend to be either maximal or minimal. Building out of cowbell and conga, or lush and bountiful gardens of synth foliage, his love affair with the genre is the beating heart in the center. It may come to pass as fad, but this arresting record of homage serves a purpose.
Kevin J. Elliott

HeartsRevolution
Switchblade EP
(iHeartComix)

There was a time in the not so distant past when it was believed that Alex Empire and his digital hardcore universe was the new face of electronic music. Same thing was applied to "electroclash." But the ease of creation and plasticity of the songwriting (or lack thereof) carved a giant void—for every Atari Teenage Riot and Mu, there was a line of unwashed poking at said trend.

Here we go again. HeartsRevolution closely follows the mold of a recent guilty pleasure, Crystal Castles, in that they are a male/female duo getting glitchy with 8-bit beats, gasping gothic vocals and various shades of grating noise. For the time being, without a full-length in tow and only the Switchblade EP to their credit, HeartsRevolution appear the imitator. This duo does some things differently, namely ditching most of the Atari artifice for deeper, richer synth-pop and splicing guitars tracks and live beats into delectable sonic skree. The title track itself is a hyper-active example of this Justice-sized pulverization.

The Crystal Castles' advantage comes from songs, enough hummable choruses and creeds to maintain longevity (even if that just means the summer). Only on "Digital Suicide" does HeartsRevolution strive for pillow time, fluctuating between pristine Orbital oscillations and singer Lo cooing about Sonic Youth and Suicidal Tendencies. It's all amusing to a certain degree, but trying to find something more than that is futile. File under "ephemeral energy booster."
Kevin J. Elliott

Eat Skull

2008-06-23T00:49:58Z

An interview with Rob Enbom
by Doug Elliott

It's rare for a band less than two years young to surprise with their debut album, but that's just what Eat Skull have done with Sick to Death, released this month on Siltbreeze Records. After a pair of exuberant, limited-run singles and a slathering of praise (guilty!), the gang in Portland raised the bar for the lo-fi pop set with an album full of bizarre, touching and often hilarious anthems. Eat Skull pick at the corpse of '80s hardcore, the scruffier wing of the Flying Nun discography and British DIY, laughing all the way. Sick to Death is immediately jarring and a tough cookie to crack, but after a week it will be that friend you've needed in these tough times. I caught up with singer/guitarist Rob Enbom as he gears up for their first nationwide tour later this Summer.

Let's begin with the band pre‒Eat Skull. Which members were in bands previously, and what did they sound like?
Rob Enbom: Rod (Meyer) and I were in the Hospitals. He started the band with (Adam) Stonehouse and left broke and destroyed, later to rejoin for the four-person line-up and leave again broke and destroyed. I was in the band for awhile on second guitar with the excellent Ned Meiners (the third person to play guitar). I remember we played Columbus once in a basement with Sword Heaven. I was wearing flip-flops. I quit after that tour, and then Ned quit and I rejoined and we started recording Hairdryer Peace. Later Rod and Chris Gunn joined, and that's how I met Rod. Rod was in some '80s hardcore bands in the Dixon/Sacramento area like Necromancy and Puppet Show and also some '90s bands. Most of the numerous weird bands I played in don't have much to do with Eat Skull. But I spent years playing in different projects with a couple of dudes who always deserve mention: Randy Lee Sutherland in San Francisco and John Benson in Oakland. Both are completely wonderful and insane and very active and inspirational. For a while Beren was playing drums in practically every band in Portland, but eventually she settled down with us. Scott (bass player Scott Simmons) was a deejay at this place called Tube.

Eat Skull seemed to take form not long after you left Columbus. How quickly did it all happen?
RE: While in Europe with the Hospitals, Rod and Chris told me I should move to Portland because I was totally broke and didn't know where I wanted to go when we got back. We talked about playing music there, and Rod said he would let me stay at his house. So we got back and all that happened and was really cool, except that it was cold and rainy as shit and I had holes in my shoes. It can be a depressing atmosphere and that comes through in the music. It's bittersweet, I think. We started the week after we got back and the first batch of songs came very fast. The name Eat Skull came fast too. Once we got Beren and then Scott we practiced once or twice and recorded the first 7-inch and the song "Dead Families." Then we started playing shows in town.

Did you have a specific idea of what you wanted the band to sound like or was it a more of a progression?
RE: We wanted to start two bands and write tons of songs and record ourselves. One would be a sick California-style hardcore band and the other was going to be a sick California pop band. We knew the hardcore band was going to be called Eat Skull, but we couldn't figure out what the other was called so it turned into one band. More than anything we're trying to make a classic California band while exiled from California in a green hell.

Did what was going on in Columbus at the time affect your approach to songwriting or the band's sound? Was forming Eat Skull in any way reactionary to the scene in the Midwest?
RE: I do enjoy the Midwest's whiskey-and-wings vibe, but it doesn't specifically have much to do with what we're doing. A couple of songs we play were written when I lived there, but I think they were looking forward to this time here more than being of that time and place. What we do is more about the sun being missing from our lives right now. The songs and sound come about naturally and very quickly from drinking a lot of beer and walking around here in Portland. Rod and I grew up on punk and acid in California. That's where the roots are.

Was it the band's intention to introduce a more hardcore approach (or at least a hardcore influence) into the lo-fi pop sound?
RE: Hardcore factored in because it makes sense when you are going crazy. It's also probably my and Rod's first real musical love. A good hardcore song is just as infectious as anything else. A good hardcore song is an undeniable assault. That kind of energy makes sense to us.

After the first (self-released) single came out it didn't take long for the collective slobbering to happen. How quickly did Mr. Lax (Siltbreeze Records mastermind) lock Eat Skull into a long-term deal. Did he make any of his infamous threats, or was the signing with Siltbreeze amicable?
RE: He got in touch some time after the first 7-inch came and went and during the six-month wait for "Dead Families" to come out. He came out and barbecued some octopus and acted like a dick. He's not a first impression kind of dude. He drunkenly made fun of us all while eating food I can't pronounce. Pretty much a class act.

I hear the song "No Intelligence" has an interesting back-story to it, something about a disastrous trip up to Seattle. Care to discuss the relationship between Portland and Seattle, or your opinion of Seattle?
RE: Seattle is a stupid place full of idiots. Every time I've ever played there there has been some kind of psycho drama. It's a place full of rich brats who think they are activists and are obsessed with the WTO riots and nitpicking. Either that or drug addicts. We drove up there last summer to play a show and immediately the shit began to fly. It was absolutely ridiculous and all sorts of these Seattle people should be ashamed of themselves. "No Intelligence" is actually about Scott. We did recently decide to give Seattle one more chance and it was really fun, so maybe all that hatred is paying off. Scott is a real sweetheart, by the way, that's why I get to make fun of him so much.

With the new album, I think it was Scott who told me it was intended to have two distinct sides, the first half more "difficult" and the second more "pop." Was this just an easy way to break up the different types of songs you guys have? It seems like the singles are split up that way as well.
RE: The idea was to have a "sick" side and a "death" side, like the tape 94 Mobstas by C.I.N. (a gangster rap group from Richmond, California). I used to listen to them back in Cali around that time with my dumb friends. C.I.N. loved MGD, but I'm more of a High Life kind of guy. That's where the name of the album came from. But really it was more about making the songs flow in a way that made sense. We picked 14 out of about 25 songs and figured out where they went. We didn't really argue about it much, they just sort of popped into place. I think it's the sort of album where side one doesn't really hit you right until you flip it back after side two. I like records like that.

What do you plan on doing with all the other stuff you have recorded?
RE: We put a song on the Worlds Lousy with Ideas, Vol. 6 7-inch, which should be out any day now. There's a split 7-inch coming out this summer probably with the Ganglians, who are a bunch of delinquents from Sacramento. They rule, and we're going to be touring with them in July. Other than that, I think we're just holding off on stuff. Maybe we'll use some of those extra songs on something. I don't know. New material is piling up and we've recorded some of it, but we're getting better at recording and want to spend a little more time on the new stuff to achieve different results.

One of the greatest things about Sick To Death is the lyrical content. You seem to tap into a very youthful dialect: confusion, "Punk Trips," licking spiders. Where does it all come from? Do the lyrics come before or after the music?
RE: Thanks Doug. Usually the song title comes first. There is no separation between the lyrics and day-to-day life here in Portland. The lyrics describe or predict what is already happening. Sometimes they come before and sometimes they come after the music. They always eventually feel predetermined and make more sense than I think they do at first. My uncle told me that Willie Nelson said that when he needed a song he pulled one out of the air above his head. It's kind of like that, but less evolved probably.

Does Eat Skull as a band have a favorite food to eat on tour?
RE: Tacos Sinaloa on International Boulevard in Oakland.

Do you all agree on the music in the van? What are some albums and songs Eat Skull love that most wouldn't expect?
RE: Scott puts on shit like Sun City Girls or Blue Cheer. He's a record collector and has an iPod. I prefer Rupert Holmes' "Pina Colada Song" for roadtrips. I think we all fucking love Buckingham era Fleetwood Mac (except maybe Scott). I love all his solo albums too. None of that Peter Green shit though. The blues suck. The stereo is broken actually, so I guess we can agree on conversation. I don't know what music people wouldn't expect. I guess people might find it weird that for most of the winter, when we were writing the tunes that ended up being on the LP, all I really listened to in my room was DRI's first stuff and TSOL's Dance With Me. People might expect that another big one is GBV's Same Place The Fly Got Smashed. I have, however, never listened to the Axemen.

I am also a huge fan of Lindsay Buckingham. If Eat Skull were to cover a Fleetwood Mac or Buckingham song, which would it be?
RE: "That's How We Do It In L.A."—definitely.

So, a big tour coming up later in the summer. Any fun tourist spots the band plan on hitting or ir is this tour one hundred percent business?
RE: One hundred percent business. Except the beach down in San Diego. Probably Encinitas. Should be cool to hang out at Carabar (in Columbus), maybe have a drink before the show at Bourbon Street.

Two new LPs from NorCal

2008-06-19T17:01:14Z

Two new LPs from NorCal
by Doug Elliott

It is fitting, in a time when bands like Eat Skull, Psychedelic Horseshit, Sic Alps and Times New Viking are grabbing headlines with their lo-fi shenanigans, that Adam Stonehouse, a.k.a. The Hospitals, unveils his most chaotic statement to date. See, if you were to ask me where exactly the roots of the new shit-pop revolution began, the conversation may just begin with Stonehouse and the Hospitals records on In the Red and Load, from 2003 and 2005, respectively. As good as those albums were at reinventing the noise-as-pop sound, though, his new LP, Hairdryer Peace, blows them away.

If Eat Skull et al. use primitive recording techniques and off-the-cuff style to turn pop songwriting inside out, Hairdryer Peace turns that notion on its head, utilizing pop technique to sculpt a new kind of noise experiment. Song fragments—a vocal melody here, a catchy bass line there—tie together a series of violent sound icebergs. It is like somebody telling you a story while the vacuum is running. There is a peace to their voice being drowned in noise. That is the "hairdryer peace."

Stonehouse relies heavily on percussion for the backbone of most songs, with trebly symbol crashes and snare fills tackling each other for the lead. If not drums then scratched strings or warbled bass lead the way. There are, of course, times where nothing leads at all, taking an aimless route reminiscent of the Dead C's finest moments, only in much shortage passages. Whenever Stonehouse's vocal do manage to seep through, you're tricked into thinking a groove is forming—that is until the moment quickly dries up and shrivels into something sounding like Twin Infinitives played backwards.

Each note on Hairdryer Peace veers toward blown-out feedback, threatening to engulf every groove on the record. Like a tightrope walker carrying a batch of barbed wire, the Hospitals' newest record is as enthralling as it is dangerous. Some fans of shit-pop may find little to enjoy here, but those interested in the long-running history of way-out sound—from ESP Records to Sightings—will find plenty to be happy with.

After three excellent singles, Orland, California's Nothing People finally hammer out their much-anticipated full-length. A side-to-side comparison of the Nothings' debut single, the Problems 7-inch (also on S-S) from 2006, and Anonymous, the new record, shows a distinct difference in production and style, but not necessarily for better or worse. The trio began as a tinny, guitar-driven psych-garage unit with a heavy West-Coast leaning, modern disciples of the Twinkeyz and early Chrome. On Anonymous, the sound is more paranoid art-punk, as the band places an emphasis on synthesizers, heavy bass tracks and a fuller, thicker production. The early sound is still there, just dosed with some glam barbiturates and New York smack.

Opener "In the City" is a perfect example of the new look; buzzing synths recall Roxy Music's debut, with a guitar solo that should please even more devoted Laughner fans. It's proto-punk with a heavy sci-fi obsession. On the other hand, tracks like "Should've Known" jam extensively, leading me to believe that these cats are in full embrace of the popular records from the era as well. Toys in the Attic anyone? Nah, put on Killer.

The back half grinds things into a more interesting dust. The Crampsian beat of "Suspicious" gets my stuff moving every time, before the killer solo comes to an abrupt halt. "Omega Man" is the Bo Diddley shuffle by way of Mike Rep, while "Outsiders Are" proposes a world where the freaks are "in," and industrial runoff is good for you. You could play "name that influence" along with most of Anonymous, but that's not the point. At their best, Nothing People play by a new set of rules. That they're so impeccably well versed in all things cool should not go down as a detriment. Instead, enjoy Anonymous knowing that this genre of outsider rock has a new leader.

MogwaiYoung Team(Chemikal Underground)

2008-06-18T12:16:35Z

by Stephen Slaybaugh

It's been nearly 11 years since Mogwai's debut full-length was birthed upon the world (by Jetset in the U.S. and on Chemikal Underground, the issuers of the newly expanded deluxe version, in England), and it's important to remember the context into which it came. Britpop was still very much the rage, though Radiohead's OK Computer was certainly signaling a change in the weather. While Mogwai had begun to make a name for themselves with some singles and an EP, there wasn't much precedence for their debut. Sure, sources of inspiration (My Bloody Valentine, Sonic Youth, etc.) could be named, but in this time before Sigur Rós and Godspeed! You Black Emperor, this record of largely instrumental post-rock was truly unique.

The real testament to Young Team's quality, though, is how little it has diminished. While Mogwai has refined its sound, softening in the process, and hit highpoints coming from other directions, this was the band's first gremlin of a record. And the deluxe version's improved fidelity only helps prove it. Recorded amidst tension within the band and between Mogwai and producer Paul Savage, the album is a beast relentlessly struggling against its confines. Beginning with the slow-moving "Yes! I Am a Long Way from Home," which accurately claims, "Music is bigger than words and wider than pictures," the album unsuspectingly shifts to one of the band's finest moments, "Like Herod." Here the Scots' prowess is on full display, intricately crafting a song that needs no words for its emotional heft. From a lilting melody, the band throws down the gauntlet, or more accurately, a sledgehammer, suddenly bursting into a sonic firestorm of guitar rage. If ever a song deserved its near 12 minutes, this is it.

But if "Like Herod" was all there was worthy of mention, Young Team would just be an initial sketch of the Mogwai that was to come. Instead, the band already had a developed sense of self. The sampled conversations lurking below the maelstrom of "Katrien," are just another texture in the band's audio arsenal. Similarly, the band is able to squeeze motifs like that of "Like Herod" into the three and a half minutes of "Summer (Priority Version)." And when Mogwai does finally give a voice to its music, former Arab Strap mumbler Aidan Moffat on "R U Still in 2 It," it seems more like a break in the discourse the record has already been conducting with itself.

With the hindsight of the last decade, it seems reasonable to say that had Mogwai never gone onto greater success, Young Team would still be an album worth revering. This is more than simple, intellectualized rock noodling; this is the revelation of rock as more than three chords and a chorus. By avoiding words, the band was able to take their sound and make it a language—and something bigger.

Lollapalooza releases schedule

2008-06-18T04:33:42Z

Lollapalooza, the three-day music festival in Chicago August 1st to 3rd, released its schedule yesterday. Daily grids show set times and stages for the event. Festival goers can visit www.lollapalooza.com and decide whether to see Bloc Party or the Raconteurs, Wilco or Rage Against the Machine, and Flogging Molly or Blues Traveler (or better yet, finding something to eat). Users can also create a custom schedule on the website and forward it on to friends.

Three-day passes are still available while limited quantities of single-day passes went on sale for $80. Admission is free for kids ten and under accompanied by a ticketed adult.

Patti Smith film set for theatrical release

2008-06-18T04:26:44Z

This past week Palm Pictures announced the theatrical release of photographer Steven Sebring's directorial debut, Patti Smith: Dream of Life. The film, which won a Cinematography Award at Sundance, is set for release this September.

Sebring met Smith in 1996, when he photographed her for SPIN magazine, and began filming the movie soon after—for 11 years. Rizzoli will publish a companion book of the same name in August.

The Apples in Stereo announce tour dates

2008-06-18T04:17:11Z

The Apples in Stereo have announced new tour dates starting July 18 in Louisville, Kentucky. The band recently released a rarities and B-sides collection Electronic Projects For Musicians.

In other news, big Apple Robert Schneider recorded a version of "Foggy Mountain Breakdown" with Kentucky bluegrass band the McKendrees for motion picture The Love Guru and also makes a cameo appearance in the movie.

July 18, Louisville, Kentucky: Headliner's
July 19, St. Louis, Missouri: Blueberry Hill Duck Room
July 20, Chicago, Illinois: Pitchfork Music Festival
July 22, Minneapolis, Minnesota: Turf Club
July 23, Omaha, Nebraska: The Waiting Room
July 25, Tulsa, Oklahoma: Diversafest
July 26, Dallas, Texas: Sons of Hermann Hall
July 27, Little Rock, Arkansas: Revolution Music Room
July 28, Memphis, Tennessee: Hi-Tone
July 29, Nashville, Tennessee: Mercy Lounge
July 31, Brooklyn, New York: Masonic Temple
August 1, Ridgewood, New Jersey: Blend

Son, Ambulance hits the road

2008-06-18T04:05:14Z

Son, Ambulance has announced new tour dates in support of forthcoming full-length, Someone Else's Déjà Vu. The record is described as essentially a Joseph Knapp solo effort. Details as to who exactly then will be touring are still forthcoming.

July 11, Omaha, Nebraska: Slowdown
July 12, Omaha, Nebraska: Box Awesome
July 13, Kansas City, Missouri: Record Bar
July 14, Columbia, Missouri: Mojo's
July 15, Chicago, Illinois: Schuba's
July 18, Minneapolis, Minnesota: Uptown Bar
July 19, Fargo, North Dakota: Aquarium
July 20, Sioux Falls, South Dakota: Nutty's North

Tilly and the Wall, O

2008-06-16T19:56:55Z

Tilly and the Wall
O
(Team Love)

It might seem easy to dismiss Tilly and the Wall as a novelty act if you haven't been lucky enough to hear—or see—the Omaha-based group. The band is made up of vocalists Neely Jenkins and Kianna Alarid, guitarist/vocalist Derek Pressnall and keyboardist Nick White, as well as Jamie Pressnall, who provides the potential novelty of percussion by tapdancing. But Tilly and the Wall proves again, with its third release, O, that it's no gimmick. What they do works—and works well. The result is a cohesive, pop-infused collection of songs that each have their own distinctive sound, yet flow seamlessly from track to track.

The opening "Tall Tall Grass" features gentle acoustic strumming and the harmonies of Jenkins and Alarid. But the instant guitar feedback makes an entrance, it's evident that Tilly and Wall is full of surprises. One minute, the vocals are channeling Le Tigre in quirky songs like the toe-tapping "Too Excited," while the next there's a hint of ABBA among the space-age sounds of "Falling Without Knowing." With boy-girl, trade-off vocals, "Jumbler" seems like it could easily be part of a '50s musical, but the following "Chandelier Lake" is equal parts folk song and ethereal journey through a meadow of tambourines, accordions and chirping birds.

"Pot Kettle Black" reaches anthem-like proportions, with hand-clapping and stomping, and a few elongated "s" sounds to denote the cattiness with which Jenkins and Alarid sing about gossip: "Talk that, talk that smack. Watch your, watch your back." Appropriately enough, it was recorded in Jenkins' old high school gym, with Jamie in the bleachers and the rest of the band on the floor.

And while "Dust Me Off" discusses depression-induced lethargy, it has an optimistic tone: "Remember to fight off the darkness that creeps in sometimes." Who wouldn't have an air of brightness when accompanied by a tap dancer? It would be great to rent Tilly and the Wall for singing-telegram type snippets of bad news, beautiful harmonies and some tapdancing softening phrases such as "You're not getting a raise," or "I've been seeing someone else." But for Tilly and the Wall, the news is good: O is an ebullient record full of delightfully unexpected twists and unique soundscapes.
Josie Rubio

Simply Saucer

2008-06-16T04:00:01Z

Keep Dancing the Mutation into the 21st Century
by Kevin J. Elliott

The story of Simply Saucer is somewhat tragic. As with many bands bred in a local scene, plagued with line-up changes, unapologetic audiences and limited resources, their creative peak came in the wrong place at the wrong time. The place was Hamilton, Ontario, an industrial depot an hour's drive south of the metropolitan melting-pot of Toronto. The time was 1977, a year between the fading twilight of rock's golden era and the doorstep of punk. Simply Saucer was in the studio recording what would be their first and only release after already being a band for four tumultuous years. The "She's a Dog" 7-inch single has never been considered one of the highlights of their career arc. It was the last nail in the coffin, stripping their sound of all the hyperactive electronics and improvisational jams that set them apart from their peers in an effort to conform to the burgeoning Toronto punk/new wave movement.

Fast forward to 1989, and to most of the world Simply Saucer wasn't even a blip. But to a select few the band had, in its five-year existence, assembled the greatest Canadian album ever. That handful of lucky listeners were privy to the beautifully wonky demos the original group had recorded with the Lanois brothers, Bob and Dan (the latter would go on to be an Eno collaborator and super-producer; see The Joshua Tree) in 1974, and a sharply zonked live set taped at the top of a downtown Hamilton mall the next year. They had proof, albeit 15 years after the fact, that Simply Saucer had evolved from garage nuggets to acid ravaged freak-out, and on to complex post- and proto- and (eventually) decidedly punk. So was it punk that killed them or was it the Dionysian decade sputtering to an end?

Cyborgs Revisited, first released by Fistpuppet, then on LP by Mole Records, and most recently by Sonic Unyon in definitive form (including the 7-inch), is the ultimate mish-mash of heady '70s geek language. It's a deejay's catch-all. Forget having to spend the night and early morning cueing the Velvets with the Modern Lovers, then Beggar's Banquet with For Your Pleasure, "Interstellar Overdrive" with "Archangel Thunderbird." All the possible hypotheticals any voracious collector could conjure up get exhausted on songs like "Dance the Mutation" and "Nazi Apocolypse." The first spin of this record is the perfect and earnest foil to Reed and Richman, the punchy shuffle of Richards and Morrison, before riding off the rails and letting Irmin Schmidt and Keith Moon Jr. through the back entrance. The band's music unabashedly mimicked the trailblazers in quick succession, but also veered into territories that were widely considered adventurous for their time.

Despite critical acclaim and multiple reissues, Cyborgs still remains a mystery. Perhaps it is the quizzical bands that only last for the length of a cigarette that provide the most intriguing works? Light was recently shed when Edgar Breau, founding Saucer, got the urge to bring his nervous guitar and leftfield vision back to the masses, scheduling a reunion tour (which sadly only includes original bassist Kevin Christoff) and recording a new album, Half Human, Half Live. Going public began to reveal a baffling page in rock's strange history, one of the (almost) universally unknown.

Early reviews suggest that Breau's newly recruited Saucer is as potent as that of its '70s heyday, and that the band intends to start anew in the coming year. And the lengthy interview I recently conducted on the near-eve of their anticipated performance at this year's Terrastock 7, reveals Cyborgs was just the beginning, if frozen for 30 years.

I recently read that the band was together for four years before the first 7-inch was recorded. When you began, what kind of music where you playing? What were your first influences?
Edgar Breau: The band was formed in 1973 as a six-piece. The line-up was myself on electric guitar, theremin and vocals; Dave Byers on guitar, flute and (treated) sax; Paul Colilli on Farfisa organ and piano; Kevin Christoff on bass; Ping Romany on audio generators; and Neil DeMerchant on drums. Our influences were vast, including the Velvet Underground, Can, Stockhausen, Sun Ra, Kinks, Savage Rose, Terry Riley, Amon Duul, Wally Tax and the Outsiders, the Dolls, the Stooges, Lightning Hopkins, Hendrix...etc.

Did you have any aspirations of becoming successful at all?
EB: Yes, we were hopeful of success.

By 1977 you had progressed into the proto-punk, psychic-trance wave band for which you are famous. Was there a great evolution in those four years?
EB: We started out improvising a lot, playing long spacey jams. But when Dave and Paul left I began compressing everything, writing songs that left room for the kind of angular instrumental sections that we became known for and that ultimately became Cyborgs Revisited. By 1977, we had dropped the electronics and were part of the Toronto punk/new wave scene. It wasn't a perfect fit for us, but the only game in town, so to speak. We were still doing some of the older material, along with more pop-oriented tunes.

How were you so in tune with what was just becoming popular at the time (the Stooges, the Modern Lovers, Hawkwind), the influences that are apparent in your sound, but at the same time experimenting leaps and bounds beyond those bands? Especially living in Hamilton, Ontario?
EB: All of us were huge record collectors, turning each other on to all the new music happening in England and the U.S. We read reviews in the underground press and gave everything and anything a listen. We loved music period. The Hamilton thing was a blessing and a curse: it kept us from being a part of a scene that might have given us a more generic sound and it engendered a fierce iconoclastic drive. But the main problem was that gigs were hard to come by and so there were always financial pressures and line-up changes.

Did your out-sound ever get you chastised by the more traditional bands you played around with?
EB: In the early days we were thrown out of clubs after playing a couple of songs, emptied arenas and had our brake lines cut. We never really found a home and then later on went up against another kind of conformity when we rubbed up against the Toronto punk bands.

Back in 1974 we had already recorded music that was edgier and more outrageous than anything happening in Canada in the late '70s. But by then we were experimenting with quieter, quirky lyric-driven material somewhat like the third Velvets record. Trouble was our earlier songs had never made it onto vinyl, so the continuity and progression of our sound was misunderstood.

America does get a great deal of Canadian music these days, but the late '60s and '70s stuff is pretty much obscure besides Rush and Gordon Lightfoot. I've often heard that Hamilton had an amazing punk/underground scene at that time. Care to elaborate on some of the bands you were playing with, and some of your countrymen that you think have gone unnoticed?
EB: There were some great bands from Hamilton at the time. Teenage Head and the Forgotten Rebels come to mind. There were some great '60s Canadian bands like the Ugly Ducklings and Kensington Market, the Haunted, Christmas.

I've also heard Hamilton referred to as the armpit of Toronto. Is there a quality to the city that you think lends to the music scene?
EB: Hamilton is a gritty steel town, with real working class people, a good University, a beautiful natural setting and a thriving music scene full of talented people. I grew up in the east end, a stones throw from two of Canada's biggest steel mills. It was a rough, raw place full of colorful people, gangs and pride. I'm sure the industrial noises, fire and smoke had an influence on our music just as Detroit gave birth to great rock 'n' roll. The sounds of the factories get transformed by the musician.

Your history is kind of fuzzy. What was the reason for the band breaking up?
EB: The club scene was dying; there were addiction problems within the band, personal lives out of control.

And what encouraged you to get back together?
EB: I've played and continued to write since the band broke up, including performing Saucer material live. There came a point when I realized that my own repertoire was lying in a frozen state there for the taking and I began to wonder if I could play electric like I did back then. The critical acclaim just kept on rolling, and in 2005 Uncut made Cyborgs Revisited one of its top 20 re-issues worldwide. I went to a local show to see a psyche band called the Unintended and afterwards was itching to play electric guitar again. The band played a brief reunion set later that year to great reception. I found excellent members and the original bass player, who by the way, was the only constant musician in the '70s. We were booked suddenly in Hamilton, Toronto, Montreal, Ottawa and New York, and the shows were well attended and the audiences enthusiastic. Everything came back. We signed to Sonic Unyon Records, and recorded and then released Half Human, Half Live. The reviews have been excellent. We are intending to go back into the studio and record brand new songs with a very hopeful eye to the future.

Are you at all familiar with Terrascope? Can you say anything about how your performances have been lately and what the Terrastock crowd can expect?
EB: We will be performing classic Simply Saucer material from Cyborgs and Half Human, Half Live energetically. Terrascope I know only in the context of our first record and the fest upcoming. I have explored it online and I'm really impressed with the accomplishments and dedication to the music.

I guess I need clarification as to exactly what the Lanois brothers were responsible for recording by the group. Have you kept in any contact with them over the years? Do you think they are aware that you guys were the most interesting group they ever had the pleasure to record?
EB: The Lanois brothers, when they started out in the early '70s, were working out of the basement of their mom's home, having moved from Gatineau, Quebec to Ancaster, Ontario after their parents' marriage ended. We recorded the six studio songs on Cyborgs Revisited in that studio, which was called Master Sound Studios. Bob Lanois engineered most of it, with Dan helping out whenever he could. Dan was playing a country gig at the time with a local songwriter by the name of Ray Materick. I remember Dan at one point sitting cross-legged on the floor with his eyes closed tightly shut and his hands over his ears. God only knows what he was thinking!

I lost touch with Dan who went on to fame as a producer. (Anecdotally, when Eno first contacted Grant Ave studio about recording there, Bob covered the receiver and inquired, "Who the fuck is Eno?") Anyhow, Dan and Eno really hit it off once they began working together, and the rest is history. David Byrne of the Talking Heads attended school here for a year or so, and had mentioned it to Eno, so he was aware of the place. A New York radio station had a contest going: "Have Lunch with Eno." The winners were a band visiting New York from Toronto, who had recorded their record at Grant Ave., and they recommended the studio to Eno, who was looking to avoid expensive New York studios. Once the critical acclaim started happening, we found ourselves name-checked.

Bob Lanois tweaked the live side of Cyborgs for us using the same equipment the other side was recorded on. (That would be in '88.) Last year, I toured solo with Bob, and we see each other now and again. He's an interesting character, and we've talked about recording a new Simply Saucer record at the Shack, his studio in the dark, haunted woods on Snake Road.

Were you reluctant at first to get back on the stage and start playing again, considering your age and how long the band has been defunct? Are you ever embarrassed by the artists you used to try and emulate (Iggy Pop, Lou Reed, the Stones) and how they eek out questionable material in old age?
EB: Quite honestly, I had ambivalent feelings about it all. I wasn't sure I could get into that headspace again—sing those lyrics, play those licks. Increasingly, I became curious about my abilities as an electric guitar player, especially after the comments in the reviews of Cyborgs about my playing. I finally decided to take the plunge, and after about six months of rehearsals, I felt really comfortable again. After all, it was my own catalog I was playing, songs from my own psyche, words written by myself. There are writers who do readings from early works, early poems and early essays, and in a musical sense that's what a band does when it performs material written years ago. The saving grace with our material is that it lived on long after it was recorded. There was a kind of prophetic edge to it that was as modern as many contemporary bands.

I guess musicians can be like the over-the-hill prizefighter that wants that last moment of glory and instead gets humiliated in the ring. I hope that never happens to me. On the other hand you have great artists like Johnny Cash and Segovia who die with their boots on, making great art to the very end.

Where did the inspiration for your lyrics come from? There are Nazis, mutants, cyborgs, bandits—all sorts of leftfield themes that perfectly complement the chaos of the music.
EB: It came from a pretty big mix: comics like Dr. Strange and Silver Surfer; novels like A Voyage to Arcturus by David Lindsay and The Nightland by William Hope Hodgson; Andrew Lang's fairy stories; John Ruskin and William Morris; Cobbett's critiques of industrial England; growing up near Canada's two biggest steel mills and their eerie clanking muffled noises and smokestacks; Hamilton's gang culture; my own splintered post-teenage psyche; Kerouac; hitchhiking out west; and, of course, all the weird music I could lay my hands on.

You mentioned recording some new songs soon. In what direction do you think you'll take them? Do you have a vision for what Simply Saucer should sound like in the 21st century?
EB: I think Saucer will always be a band that is part traditional and part experimental, lyrically and musically. I've entertained the idea of doing a stripped down space/roots record called Nothing Is Ever Lost. The title comes from a line in Faulkner's The Reivers.

Lastly, though it may be a generic question, I'm always interested in what characteristics Canadian musicians think makes their music and art distinctly Canadian.
EB: I think the huge geographical spaces—the prairies, the mountains—the east coast Acadian culture, with Quebec in the middle, and a big breathtaking mix of influences are who we are.

Black Diamond Heavies, A Touch of Someone Else's Class

2008-06-15T23:20:12Z

Black Diamond Heavies
A Touch of Someone Else's Class
(Alive)

It's hard to tell whether Black Diamond Heavies keyboardist and singer John Wesley Myers was born with a greasy spoon stuck in his throat or if his gruff vocals are just the result of many years spent trying to sing along to Tom Waits records. Either way the result is impressive. With just Myers' own pounding on a Rhodes piano and that of his partner Van Campbell on a drum kit, the Black Diamond Heavies have taken Waits' tipsy blues cadence and injected it with the kind of r-n-r vitriol the old guy doesn't muster much.

For their second album, A Touch of Someone Else's Class, the East Nashville duo travelled to Ohio to record with the Black Keys' Dan Auerbach at his Akron Analog Studio. If anyone knows something about making a two-piece sound bigger than it is, it would be Auerbach, but the choice of engineer was fortuitous in other ways as well. Joining the Heavies for one cut, "Bidin' My Time," was Black Keys drummer Patrick Carney's uncle Ralph, longtime horn player for Waits, and his contribution gives the song a touch of late-night noir that can't be gotten from just anyone. Still Auerbach's work is one of the keys (no pun intended) to the record's success. Cuts like the leadoff "Nutbush City Limits" and "Loose Yourself" are imbued with a floor-shaking sound, just enough low-end rumble and in-the-red saturation to make the record come alive.

Myers studies of the Waits catalog, Booker T and Muscle Shoals soul, and no doubt Nina Simone (the Heavies do a very worthy cover of her seminal "Sinnerman") has paid off in spades. Touch is a gritty triumph, the kind of record that can't be made without more than a little blood and sweat.
Stephen Slaybaugh