SuperGiant - Pistol Star

Thunder:  noun: The explosive sound that accompanies a stroke of lightning.

SuperGiant: noun: see Thunder.

A sonic explosion.  A crack of electricity tearing through the desert sky.  A southwestern thunderstorm full of malevolence and fear.  A thunderhead gathering on the bleak horizon.  Violence to follow.

That's SuperGiant.

Rampaging out of the desert southwest state of New Mexico, SuperGiant breathe in the dirt and dust of their arid environment and spew out a thunderous assault of bottom-heavy, fuzzy-sludged, stoner rock that's as tough and rugged as the southwest's ancient mountains.  Riff-mad waves of sound blow the sand off the bleached and whitened bones of the desert's dead, exposing an ancient and beating soul.  The thunderhead approaches.  Scorpions scatter in fear of the approaching devastation.

I'm not talking hyperbole here.  Tons of stoner, sludge, southern, and doom rock makes its way through the Ripple doors each month, but I can't remember the last time I heard a band that brings it all together with the ferocity, balls, and skill that SuperGiant does.  Each riff is simple, pure and clean, but mean as a starving desert coyote tearing the flesh off an unsuspecting kill.  Drums and bass pummel with the unrelenting death knell of the desert sun.  And best of all, each song rocks with a groove as steady as the flow of the Rio Grande.  This IS desert rock.  This is what it's supposed to sound like.  Stark and heavy and mean.  Thunder.  It sounds like thunder.

"Tres de la Manana" is my introduction to the desert hostility.   The intro riff is simple and barren, a pulse of bass perfectly timed to add the menace.  Then the storm hits and all hell breaks loose.  Bass and drums kick into overdrive, pounding that riff into the rockhard desert ground.  Joel Rogers' voice is the perfect accompaniment for the barely contained mayhem ripping the planet apart.  Sweet and smooth when he wants, at other times, his vocal chords sound like they've been dessicated and leathered by the baking desert sun.  Like he does here, when he drops down into the chorus, his vocal chords offering up every epithelial cell as if a sacrifice to the Sun God.

As good as that opening track is, it was really the second cut, "Emotion" that spiked me down to the desert floor.   A simple drum beat.  A galloping bass.  So far, this could be anybody.  But lightning knows when to strike, and with that speed and precision, Jeremy's Mccollum's guitar slices in like electric fire and suddenly the whole desert has erupted into an inferno of fire and ash.   Raging like the best riff of Feurzeug or Monster Magnet, the boys let the sound settle while they sit back into a comfortable groove.  But it's only a false safety, for seconds later, the fire explodes again.  Joel screams to the heavens, the riff echoes against the walls of the craggy valleys, and the rhythm section of Gary Chavez and Kyle Erickson bring the earth to a cataclysmic shudder.  No other way to put it.  If you like your rock heavy and hard, and grooving like an earthquake, this song is perfect.  Just perfect.

There's not a down moment anywhere on this disc.  "Revolution"  plods and trounces like a soldier's death march.  "Rosey Posey" drops some AC/DC-esque attitude into the desert air, but in a way that's more threatening than anything the Aussies ever conjured.  "Aries," mixes a sci-fi-ish tone to the guitar before dropping into something as mean as a pissed off pack of Hell's Angels about to set pillage to a helpless desert town.  "Mexican Radio" brings a ZZ Top-ish southern boogie swagger into the mix, with the band's ode to the stations that pump it out from down south.  Think of this as their version of "Heard it on the X."  What's noteworthy here, is how well the guys can pull off the sunburned blues.  Finally, "Pistol Star," is a time-warped, epic of Sabbath-y terror and dread.  This song reminds me of an Apache indian warrior, alone on the mesa, fire raging, offering a final sacrifice to the Gods before he embarks upon his final suicide raid against the white man.  Dread.  Foreboding.  Violence will follow.

SuperGiant got it.  What ever it is that makes a band rise above the carnivorous hoards that shuffle and scurry for attention in the desert-world of stoner rock.  What ever it is that makes one band's riffs that much more intense.  Their groove that much groovier.  Their deslolate and bleak desert land that much scarier.  SuperGiant have it.  They have that extra something to create magic.

They have thunder. 

--Racer

Taddy Porter - S/T

“Hey man, we got the kegs.  Four of em.  You ready?”

Ready?  The words trickle through my brain.  I’m 18 years old, finishing high school.  Hanging with my friends Jeff, Paul, Ron, John, and Chris.  Dave is there.  So’s Bob.  Gary's somewhere.  The beer is cold.  An abandoned barn has been pre-scouted as the spot du jour.  My “man-machine” the 1974 Fiat is gassed and ready, intimidating the world with it's huge rubber bumpers.  The word has been spread around the school.  It’s time for a good old-fashioned beer blowout. 

And it’s up to me to bring the music.

Now, in reality, that scene may have taken place in the late ‘70’s or early ‘80’s, but the perfect music to complete this scene just dropped into my hands, fresh and dirty in 2011.

Taddy Porter bring on a southern-fried, greasy blitz of big riff, blues-infected rock that just begs to be cranked up and blown out of ’67 Camaro’s, ’73 Mach One’s, and just about any pick-up truck ever made.  These guys are simply a party in a bottle.  This is retro-rock, near-perfection and should blow the band huge.  Their blues riffs are meaty and beefy enough to get the guys gathered around the keg head-bobbing in rock-mania unison, while the backbeat grooves and undulates with enough sex to keep the girls swaying their hips on the dancefloor.  Or in this case, the dance barn.

I knew I was in good shape from the very first seconds of “Whatever Haunts You,” quite simply a monster of retro-fried Zeppelin blues frenzy.  From the very first moment, the boys show restraint, inherently knowing what it takes to bring dynamic to the song.  A simple, bluesy guitar stutter brings us on.  A drum beats somewhere in the background, steadily, like someone making love behind the barn door.  Slowly, languidly, the pace picks up until . . . all blues hell breaks loose.  Andy Brewer belts out the opening with a gruff-Plant energy as guitars, bass, and drums kick into full fury around him.  Dust bellows from the abandoned barn as air guitars break out from the guys and those young girls start swaying in ways far too seductive to write about in a family music site.  Oh fuck that.  They’re sexy as all get out.  Guys lining the walls watching those girls grind and shake, fantasies filling their heads.  And in each of those fantasies, “Whatever Haunts You,” is playing.  Dropping down to a mid-song respite, bellowing back up with a raging guitar solo courtesy of Joe Selby.  Kevin Jones on bass and Doug Jones on the kit keep those female hips taunting and teasing.  A great modern blues rock number through and through.

“Big Enough” keeps the sexual energy driving with a country-fried blues work-out.  This is what I always wanted the Black Crowes to sound like.  Big muscular guitars, stop-start riffing, snotty backing vocals, and Andy spewing out lyrics that seem to be about just what you might think with a title like “Big Enough.”  Not sure about that, but on my imaginary dancefloor that’s what they’d all be thinking anyways.  Toss in a truly bopping chorus and this song is another barn burner.

“Shake Me,” rocks in a Bad Company vein, maybe with a touch of BTO or many other 70’s rockers.  The opening riff reminds me of half of an ELO track before it takes off into dirty blues rock heaven.   For the life of me, I can’t imagine why this song wouldn’t be a hit.  In the 70’s it would’ve been and Taddy Porter would be filling stadiums with their southern Arena rock approach.  And the crowd would’ve eaten it up.   Whiskey soaks through each note like a home-bottled brew of 70’s moonshine.  Each riff is powered with enough grit and dust to make it truly authentic.  These aren’t guys going through the motions and they aren’t living in the past.  They’re living this rock, day to day, moment to moment.  Authenticity drips from each song like blood from an opened vein.  Toss some Stone Axe into the mix and we got a whole new breed of modern 70’s rock. 

As the party rages on and the keg starts to dry up, “Long Slow Drag” offers a brief respite from the frenzied rock.  A momentary slow dance before “I Gotta Love,” attacks in Blackfoot intensity.   The party rages back to full force.  With that charging guitar riff and killer vocal hook, hands fly into the air, the dance barn fills, beer flies and spills.  “Mean Bitch” sums up the wallflower guys’ thoughts at all the girls who rejected them that night with a guitar solo that can burn off enough of these guys’ pent up sexual frustrations.

The first fight of the night erupts to the rocking second half of “Fire in the Streets” which escalates from it’s subdued beginning in true Bad Company fashion to a full-on fist-throwing guitar epic mid-section.  A few lips get bloodied.  A few girls start crying in high school dramatics.  It’s all good.  It’s a Saturday night at a barn beer fest. 

Finally, as the keg runs dry, Taddy Porter cool the crowd down with the restrained, mid-tempo closers of “Railroad Queen” with it’s tasty slide licks and southern boogie, then the finale of “King Louie” a guitar screamer with a fierce backbeat a la The Rockets or 38 Special when they were good.  Andy’s voice really shines here revealing some tastefully roughed up soulful vocal chords, and the band ushers the crowd out with some stinging guitar leads.

The Camaros fire up.  The Mach One’s drive off.  Empty kegs get thrown into the back of the pick up trucks and I climb behind the wheel of my . . . Fiat.  Testosterone burned.  Sweat stained.  Sexual fantasy induced.  It’s been one helluva night.

And Taddy Porter is on tap for next weeks blast as well.


--Racer



Buy here: Taddy Porter
Buy here mp3: Taddy Porter (Amazon Exclusive Version)

A Sunday Conversation with Sweet Kiss Momma

Sitting on the Ripple couch with Jeff, from hard-ass Southern Rockers, Sweet Kiss Momma

When I was a kid, growing up in a house with Cat Stevens, Neil Diamond, and Simon and Garfunkel, the first time I ever heard Kiss's "Detroit Rock City," it was a moment of musical epiphany. It was just so vicious, aggressive and mean. It changed the way I listened to music. I've had a few minor epiphany's since then, when you come across a band that just brings something new and revolutionary to your ears.

What have been your musical epiphany moments?

 The first time I can really remember being awed was seeing the movie “Back to The Future” as a kid. I grew up with classic country in the house, and gospel and spirituals at church, so in the movie when Michael J. Fox’s character did that crazy solo during “Johnny B. Goode”, I had the same reaction that the folks in the dance scene did, it was so foreign to me. It’s funny how Chuck Berry was such an influence for the bands that I really love, and I got my “Chuck Berry moment” second hand.

Another big one came a few years later, when a drum set was set up in the sanctuary of our church. Now, keep in mind that up until then there was an organ, a piano, and a stand up bass, THAT’S IT. I remember the uproar, it was so outlandish to bring in one of  “the Devil’s instruments”. I just HAD to play those things, and eventually worked my way up to being the every-week drummer before moving on to guitar.

For what I’m sure is probably a pretty common story, my biggest musical “epiphany” came in my early teens when I heard “Smells Like Teen Spirit” on our local Top-40 station. It was so weird to me that this incredible band came from a place I knew, and sounded so different from anything else I had been exposed to. I am sure I still have a tape recording somewhere of a 101.5 fm “Hot 7 at 7” where “Smells Like Teen Spirit” is played along side MC Hammer, Crash Test Dummies, and TLC. My Mom actually confiscated my copy of Nevermind because she couldn’t understand what was being sung, and concluded that it “must be satanic”.


Talk to us about the song-writing process for you. What comes first, the idea? A riff? The lyrics? How does it all fall into place?


 I don’t know that there is an exact formula for us. A riff, a melody, or a set of lyrics have all been the springboard for SweetKiss Momma songs.

 The music side of SKM’s songs start with either Aaron or I. The real riff-heavy tracks that you hear from us, probably started with Aaron. He grew up a metal kid, and later supplemented that with a heavy dose of SRV love, and I think that you are getting a great mix of both through his ridiculously fast fingers. I only wish that my riffs and runs were as cool as his.

When it comes to handling the lyrical and melodic side, I really like having music first, but it’s not absolutely necessary. Like most writers, I have notebooks full of mostly crap, but I think it’s worth all of the wasted ink when something finally comes out that I really like.

For most styles of music, melody is what draws me. I can listen to Classical, or Qawwali, or Sigur Ros for that matter, and while I may not be enticed by the instrumentation, or understand the lyrical subject matter, I can still appreciate the story melodically. I think that of any part of a song, the melody is what most people take with them. You can’t hum rhythm, and you may not always remember lyrics, and when you talk about a song getting “stuck in your head”, it’s the melody that you’re referring to. I don’t want to say that there is a “most important part” to any song, but for me to consider our music a success, I want folks to have that connection.

Who has influenced you the most?

Probably my Grandfather (on my Father’s side), though he died while I was still fairly young, so my recollection is probably a bit skewed. He was a Big Band director (as well as a semi-professional wrestler, body builder, and race car driver in his younger years). I have memories of going to see his band play. There were people dancing, and laughing, and just generally having a good time. I look at what SweetKiss Momma is doing (or attempting to do…) and I think that for me, I am making a conscious effort to find those same reactions with my own music. Obviously, we are talking about different styles, but it is definitely a choice to write and perform with an overall tone that lends itself to having a good time.


Where do you look for continuing inspiration? New ideas, new motivation?

I love being around people, hearing their stories, and seeing how they act and react. For me, friends, family, acquaintances, ect. are an unending fountain of subject matter and inspiration. It’s funny, because for Aaron, it’s the exact opposite. He takes more of a Zen-like approach; sitting in absolute silence, clearing his mind, seeing what comes to him from the cosmos…


Genre's are so misleading and such a way to pigeonhole bands. Without resorting to labels, how would you describe your music?

We aim for; raw, honest, and organic. While those adjectives aren’t necessarily descriptive of a particular sound, they are certainly at the heart of what we aspire to be. We’ve been referred to as “good times” and “beer drinking, booty shaking, hell raising” music, either of which is fine with us.


What is you musical intention? What are you trying to express or get your audience to feel?

We hope our music motivates people, and by motivate I don’t mean in a Tony Robbins sense, but more of just reminder that it’s alright to let go of things for a bit, cut loose, and have a good time. The idea of just being background music is foreign to us (though we’ve heard it said that “Revival Rock” is a great album for road-trips). We grew up in an environment (the church) where the music was meant to cause you to react, whether that be physically or to inspire contemplation, and I think that the desire to cause, or provide a catalyst for, a reaction has just engrained itself in to our musical DNA

Come on, share with us a couple of your great, Spinal Tap, rock and roll moments?

 We went down to play SXSW earlier this year (the first time for any of us traveling to Texas), and ended up staying a little south of Austin, in a little touristy part of New Brunfels. We were walking around town one afternoon and noticed a really quaint little barn looking building that had a sign advertising cold beer and live music. So we go in for a beer, and while standing at the bar, I mention to the bartender why we’re in town, and that we would love to play for them if they had an opening. He looks at me, kind of takes a step back to size me up, and suggests that I walk over to the back wall and take a look at the pictures of the “regulars” who play there: Willy Nelson, Hank III,  Merle Haggard, Levon Helm, Lyle Lovett…. Unknown to me at the time, The Gruene Music Hall is a renowned music venue, on par with the likes of The Fillmore, Troubadour, and Apollo Theater, and is actually referred to as Texas’ version of The Grand Old Opry (so, are you saying that this group of clowns out of rural WA State won’t be sullying your stage any time soon???). Incredibly cool place though. A couple of days later The Drive-By Truckers had a sold out show there. We didn’t have tickets, so we just stood outside the building and listened to the show through the chicken wire windows at the side of the stage.

Fairly early on in our career as a band, we did a show that was billed as a benefit for the Jimmy Hendrix Foundation. As thanks to the promoter for our inclusion on the bill, we were encouraged by him to participate in the “opportunity” to sell special passes to our people, that would allow them to hang out in a private area with all of the “celebrities” that would be there. Now, this promoter we had worked with before, and should have known what we were getting in to. He is exactly what you would expect when requesting a “Music Industry Type” from central casting; a virtual cartoon, greasy ponytail, fat faced, uncanny ability to not have all of the money at the end of the night… you never knew if you were going to play a show, or buy a used car from him. Cue night of show: first of all, we have trouble finding the venue that this “event” is located at, mainly due to the fact that this suburb of Seattle is only found on maps handed out by Heroin dealers and parole officers. When we finally arrive, after having driven past the location a dozen times because the sign adorning the venue is not only rusted through, but also promotes it’s service as a combination Laundromat/pizza parlor, we are forced to wade our way through the congregation of derelicts waiting for the shelter next door to open. As we haul or gear up to the door, we see a small sign posted that informs us that “due to unforeseen circumstances” the Jimmi Hendrix Foundation would not be attending the event, and that “all related parties” would also not be in attendance. It may as well have read: “SweetKiss Momma, thanks for pre-selling all of those tickets for us at 4 times the regular asking price, at least you will have someone to play in front of…”. I still have the laminate from the show. I keep it to remind me to pay closer attention when a promoter wants to “do me a favor”.

What makes a great song?

I wish I knew the secret formula. For me, I want to say that it’s a combination of lyrics, melody, and musicianship, but I can think of examples where just one, or none of these are the reason I like a particular song. I think that it’s a great thing that musical preference is so subjective, and not just from person to person, but even based on our own moods. I am one of those people that digests music. When I find something I really like, I tend to listen to it almost exclusively until I’ve either driven my wife completely crazy or found something else.


Tell us about the first song you ever wrote?

You don’t really want to know that, do you??? Ugh.. I must have been about 7 or 8. It was called “Rock and Roll Baby”. I know, right??? Prepare yourself for the lyrical sophistication:

    Rock and Roll Baby
    Rock and Roll Babe
    Don’t you just love her
    Rock and Roll Babe.

Some would say that my songwriting has gone downhill from there.






What piece of your music are particularly proud of?

I think our song “Son of the Mountain” is a great example of who we all are as musicians and as a band. Heavy rhythm section, incredible guitar work, and lyrically, it’s a nod to where we come from (The “mountain” being Mt. Rainier). I also feel really good about how “To Help a Man” came out on the album. It was one of the first songs we wrote when we first started playing together, and the only one to carry over from our EP to the full-length, and the bridge is probably my favorite combination of 4 lines I’ve written.


Who today, writes great songs? Who just kicks your ass? Why?

Maybe I’m overly nostalgic, or maybe I just don’t look hard enough, but it seems to me that “things just ain’t what they used to be” with regard to great songwriting. If I’m having to pick current bands; I love the Black Keys, so the list starts there. There is a rawness to what they are doing that just speaks to me. Kings of Leon have the same effect, just not as pronounced. And, though I think he is at times incredibly portentous, Jack White seems to nail it in every band incarnation he comes up with. I love that bands in the recent past like Jet, The Darkness, and Wolfmother, who have really gone after that heavily 70’s influenced sound. Locally, we have a couple of guys that you are familiar with in Stone Axe and Astrovan, and a couple that folks should get to know in Big Wheel Stunt Show (great heavy-groove oriented power trio) and The Lonely H (who at times sound just like the Eagles).



Vinyl, CD, or digital? What's your format of choice?

We actually recorded and sequenced “Revival Rock” with the idea that we would hopefully be able to eventually release a vinyl copy. For me, there is just something great about vinyl. I love the whole process of opening the sleeve, pulling out the disc, dropping the needle, being ever so careful to not bump or scratch the disc… almost like completing a part of a liturgy. I’m not by any means anti-technology. I buy digital and CD copies of stuff as well. Though, I bought a record player a year or so ago that allows me to transfer my vinyl to CD, so I can then upload it into iTunes. I can’t be the only one that does that.


Whiskey or beer?  And defend your choice

Though it would be a tough decision, if given the choice between a high quality Bourbon and a great beer, I would probably get more enjoyment from the beer. I used to work for a beverage distributor a few years back, and at the time the NW was the unofficial microbrew capitol of the world. For those familiar with Pyramid, Redhook (pre Anheuser-Busch), Full Sail (pre Miller Brewing Co.), Pike Brewing Co, Thomas Kemper, Anchor Steam, or Sierra Nevada, I spent a lot of time with these and countless imports, and grew to love and appreciate quality beer. Consequently, I’m not much of a Budwiser fan.


We, at the Ripple Effect, are constantly looking for new music. What's your home town, and when we get there, what's the best record store to lose ourselves in?

Rocket Records in Tacoma. Steve has been around forever, and has deep roots in the NW music scene. If you are looking for what’s good, past or present, in NW music, he’s a walking encyclopedia.


Any final comments or thoughts you'd like to share with our readers, the waveriders?

Just that we are grateful for the opportunity that you, and they, collectively provide. We appreciate the fact that there are thousands of bands out there vying for your ears, hearts, and dollars, and if you spend any of your hard-earn

Jesse Brewster - Wrecking Ball at the Concert Hall

 

The cowboy is an iconic character in the West. He is instilled in the popular psyche and has given rise to that fictional independent, hard-riding, hard-drinking, dust on the shoes and drover, image venerated in books, movies, magazines and music.  From the early music of Jimmy Rogers to the modern rock era, the desperado image has found voice in rock lyrics and a jangly guitar wail.  Classic rock purveyors Bob Seger, Lynyrd Skynyrd, the Outlaws, and Tom Petty ploughed these grounds and became the foundation of sort of a country/folk classic rock musical tradition.  This combination of Western cowboy hard livin’ on the edge and dog has died sensitivity sells and the genre draws fans. Tons of them.

What makes it so good?  Women love it.  Songs about love, romance, God,  drinking, rebellion, repentance, redemption and renewal all delivered with a slight drawl with leather boots, tight blue jeans, western-style shirt and hat and an electric guitar slung over one shoulder like a bandolier is sexy.  Men also like it.  The rock guitar leads, twangy rhythms and bend licks soar into rock anthems with lyrics about love, sex and alcohol.  Men also like it because women like it.   Let’s face it, how many kids were conceived under the flickering Bics during a performance of “Freebird;” with “Night Moves;” as the guitars dueled it out on “Green Grass and High Tides;” or while “Free Fallin’?”

Singer, songwriter and guitarist Jesse Brewster has ninety-nine point nine percent of what it takes to be a rock star in the same fashion. His songs and songwriting are as good, if not better, and his guitar work and production values are impeccable.  His voice is evocative.  His new album. Wrecking Ball at the Concert Hall proves he is a force to be reckoned with. 

Brewster is a San Francisco Bay Area boy.  To record the album he grabbed a band of local residents - James DePrato (electric and slide guitar (and ebow)); Jeff Symonds (bass); Santa Rosa vocal coach Allyson Paige (background vocals) and Kyle Caprista (drums)  He also added keyboardist Eric Levy from Garaj Mahal.  The Waybacks guitarist, James Nash, plays and sings with Brewster on “God Fearin’ Man.” The Bittersweets keyboardist and percussionist, Jerry Becker, plays on “Consider This.”

This is one hell of an album. It begins with “All Those Things I Said,” a sonic experience of doubled and solo lead electric guitars, a great bass arpeggio, jangly acoustic rhythm guitars, a wonderful hook, and smooth background vocals in a song about regrets.  “Fuel for the Fire” is a romantic ballad about redemption and repentance that starts as an acoustic guitar ballad.  It has an intensely building slide guitar arrangement. “All She Deserves” is a romantic country/rock ballad.

“God Fearin’ Man” is a classic country rocker with a cajun beat, and distorted blues guitar. This “drinkin’” redemption song has an absolutely great electric guitar duel between Brewster and Nash. “Dive To Drown In” is a country blues bar ballad, again about love and regret.  Levy’s piano work holds this one together and Brewster’s voice and acoustic guitar move you through the vocalist’s down and out world. “My Great Escape,” which is presently featured on the Brewster’s  website, is another drinkin’, love and repentance song.  It is a dark number with an Outlaws’ worthy guitar interlude and a great hook. “Sometime” is a beautiful folk rock “parting is sweet sorrow” song about separation and friendship.

“I’m Not Broken” is about lost love (and drinking to get over it.)  Brewster tries to convince us and his ex that he is doing fine, although, he does sound rather bitter.  The song soars with electric Lynyrd Skynyrd-like guitar interludes.  “Consider This” is an acoustic guitar tour de force.  It is to Brewster as “Yesterday” is to Paul McCartney - a signature love song.  Soft and ethereal, it is the place where the Bics get flicked and the audience sways and sighs in intimate unison. “Sorry Ain’t Enough” completes the album.  This gin drinking song about an apology being insufficient to make amends for your actions oozes emotion as Brewster’s guitar wails over his vocals. The song (and CD) ends with a crying baby.  The entire album is the epitome of the fantasy of western cowboy hard livin’ on the edge and dog has died sensitivity.”

With his incredible songwriting talent, and world class recording and performance chops, it is hard to fathom why Brewster isn’t a household name up there with Seger and Petty,  Like I said, “Jesse Brewster has ninety-nine point nine percent of what it takes to be a rock star.”  I now think I know what the .1 percent is that has held him back from becoming a well-known country rock bandolero.  Every picture and video that I see him in lacks it.  He needs the cowboy hat, boots and bandolier.

- Old School

buy here: Wrecking Ball at the Concert Hall

Lost Classic - Blackfoot – Highway Song: Live

Attention young people: the next time you roll your eyes at the old guy at the end of the bar complaining about how rock was better in his day, chances are he saw Blackfoot at least once. If they’re from America maybe he saw Blackfoot give heavy duty headliners like Ted Nugent or The Who a run for their money. Maybe he even saw them when Def Leppard opened for them on one of their first US tours. If the dude is from England chances are he saw Blackfoot open for Iron Maiden on the Number Of The Beast tour. Europeans will rave about seeing them with the Scorpions. The verdict is in and it’s unanimous – old rock guys love to drink whiskey, crank their favorite Blackfoot albums and lecture young people. I should know. I am one of them. But I was never lucky enough to witness Blackfoot in their prime so I have to make due with their awesome live album from 1982.
At that time Blackfoot was a pretty big deal in the UK. They were acquiring an audience of rock fans but also had the support of the metal media and were probably the only band that could have played with either Motorhead or ZZ Top and win over both crowds. Blackfoot is usually labeled a Southern Rock band but I’m not convinced that’s an accurate description. There are some shared sensibilities with Lynyrd Skynyrd (Rickey Medlocke played drums in an early line up of Skynyrd and currently plays guitar for them), Molly Hatchet and Doc Holliday but what really sets Blackfoot apart is their Native American heritage. Drummer Jakson Spires (RIP) was Cherokee, bassist Greg T. Walker is a descendant of Eastern Creek Florida Indians and Medlocke is part Sioux. Guitarist Charlie Hargrett is from New York City. Can you really call these guys “Southern?” I’m not sure. And they certainly don’t sound like the Allman Brothers.

Blackfoot’s specialty is pure high energy rock n roll and they never did it better on wax than on Highway Song: Live. It doesn’t matter what you call it – Southern Rock, Hard Rock, Heavy Metal, whatever. The end result is that it flat out KICKS ASS and makes you wish you were at this gig. The playing is incredibly tight and they blast one song after another barely pausing for breath in between. The rhythm section of Spires and Walker is so deep in the pocket. Jakson hits his drums hard but plays with a lot of taste and is never flashy. He and Greg really lay down the groove and play exactly what the song calls for. The guitar team of Rickey and Charlie is one that every band should study. These guys play so well together it sounds like one huge instrument. Rickey does most of the solos but Charlie gets some good leads in, too. Their tone is also classic Les Paul (or Gibson Explorer) into cranked Marshalls. Loud as hell but not so distorted that you can’t hear the notes.

Barnstormers like “Gimme, Gimme, Gimme,” “Good Morning,” “Road Fever” and “Train Train” are pure audio adrenalin. These guys sound so excited to be playing in front of an appreciative audience and want to make sure everyone wakes up the next day hungover and with ringing ears. “Dry County” has great raunchy lyrics that mention “liquor in the front and poker in the rear” that excites the crowd. “Fly Away” was a hit single for them and the crowd loves singing along on it. I’m surprised that no one has ever used this song in a travel commercial. It’s a great tune that really makes you want to bust out of the normal daily grind.

There are a couple of blues tunes. The only slow song on the album is a faithful rendition of the standard “Trouble In Mind” and an uptempo arrangement of the boogie classic “Rollin and Tumblin.” Rickey introduces it as a John Lee Hooker tune but it’s usually associated with Muddy Waters or Elmore James, but John Lee did record it under the name “Rollin Blues.” The album concludes with their anthem “Highway Song.” It has a similar build up like “Freebird” but Blackfoot gets there in about half the time. They give you enough time to pull out your lighter to wave around during the slow part but once it starts to speed up I’m sure most concert goers found another use for the flame.


--Woody

Buy here: Highway Song: Live

Lost Classic - The Marshall Tucker Band - Together Forever

My dog died this weekend.  15 years old and as much of a trooper as you'd ever find.  Full of heart and soul.

Now this being a music site, not a dog site, I won't burden you with too many details of Kimo's passing, rather, we're going to talk about the album that found it's way onto my turntable the morning after Kimo's death.  An album that filled that perfect chasm of being musically uplifting, nearly transcendent in it's melodic reach, yet still deeply mournful and somber, capable of pulling from my deadened heart every last bit of raw emotion.  Music that became the eulogy of my dog's passing,  Music that became my teary catharsis.

I've always been a huge Marshall Tucker Band fan.  Skyrocketed to fame on the back of their tour supporting The Allman Brothers in 1973, very few bands ever sounded like them.  Southern through and through, the Marshall Tucker boys seemed to live the cowboy ethic, writing songs about cattle drives and long hard rides.  Yet don't go to Marshall Tucker expecting country music.  Sure there were traces of cowboy western deep within their mix, but The Marshall Tucker Band were so much more than that, effortlessly blending simply stellar musicianship, a true guitar hero, and their southern leanings with the heapin' textures of jazz and rock.  More southern sounding than The Atlanta Rhythm Section, not as fierce as Molly Hatchet, less rebellious than Lynard Skynard, more focused than the Allman Brothers, more "real" than 38 Special, but less pop oriented than Firefall,  they were a hard band to classify.  None of that hindered their success in the '70's though, as the band released a series of 6 gold and platinum albums and the radio hit, "Heard it in a Love Song."  Still, as the millennium has changed, it seems that the Marshall Tucker Band often gets left off that list of great southern bands, and that's a shame.

Besides a rock-steady rhythm section comprised of Tommy Caldwell and drummer Paul Riddle, MTB had three distinct secret weapons, all of which make their presence felt on Together Forever: the once-in-a-lifetime, deeply emotional and soulful voice of Doug Gray, the southern rock virtuosic guitar work of Toy Caldwell, and the jazzy flute and sax accompaniments of Jerry Eubanks.  Put it all together and you get a sound unlike any other in the southern rock cannon.  Country rock jazz.  All of which led me to chose this album to plunk onto the turntable that mournful morning.

Now, I'm not gonna say that Together Forever is MTB's best album.  It's not.  That honor would most likely go to Carolina Dreams, or The Marshall Tucker Band (although I've always been partial to Tenth, and the heartbreak of a song, "See You One More Time").  Still Together Forever was the first MTB I came across as I dug for the perfect music that morning after my dog's passing; something not to harsh or aggressive, yet not maudlin and passive.  I wanted something that still rocked, but felt reflective.  Something soulful.  And for that Together Forever, was like a gift from an angel.

Beginning with the chugging guitar of rhythm player George McCorkle, it only takes a few moments for MTB to arrive in all their glory.  Toy adds in a little acoustic, feathered with Jerry's gentle flute.  When Tommy's bass comes in, it runs in jazzy arpeggios, not galloping county tones.  By the time Doug's instantly recognizable voice jumps into the foray, I'm lost.  Sure the lyrics added an interesting sentiment to my harsh feelings of loss, "When the morning sun/melts the morning dew/I'll be loving you." But it wasn't sentimentality that clicked with me that day.  It wasn't the rawness of the emotion that made me realize that I loved MTB even more than I thought I did.  It was the music.

Doug Gray possesses a voice that embodies country soul.   Effortlessly, he wrings emotion out of each word.  It's nearly impossible to describe his singing.  Slightly nasal in tone, but still deep from the belly.  His phrasing is perfect, nearly jazz-like in it's approach.  It's a voice that even on the happiest songs belays an underlying sadness, a deeper sorrow, a weathered melancholy.  On that first song, "I'll Be Loving You," it was a voice that reached right out from the vinyl and caressed me, gently cajoling my own tears to join the band's.

While the band runs away with a chugging southern groove, Toy Caldwell shows us that he just may be the most under-appreciated southern guitar slinger of all time.  Carrying a tone that would melt the Allman Brother's hearts, his guitar is clean and crisp, deeply expressive.  Jazzy, rocking, soaring, Toy wrings the notes for every moment of emotion.  Whether playing slow and melodic or blinding at virtuoso speed, his guitar doesn't sound like southern rock, like the Outlaws, or jazzy, but comfortably somewhere in between.  And it's all done with his magical thumb, plucking away.

Doug and Toy reach perfection again with the mid-tempo "Love is a Mystery," both of them soaring into their performances.  The addition of some spellbinding jazzy sax by Jerry Eubanks completes the picture, filling out this 7 minute jam of a song.   Toy comes back after the sax, his tone elevating to some place that few guitars can ever go. Doug's voice, even here on a love song, is still as deeply affected as before.  It's just the way the guys sings, the tone of his voice that to me just speaks of heartbreak.  I've loved that voice since the first time I heard it, and coming to me that sad morning, it was like a sorrowful salve to my wounds.

If you've never taken the time to explore the Marshall Tucker Band's vast catalog, don't miss it.  If the thought of a blend of southern rock and jazz that's more concerned with soul and melody than simple blazing guitar solos appeals to you then Marshall Tucker is waiting.  They were there for me that morning, and now they've found a place even deeper in my heart.

And to Kimo, rest easy, my boy.  The angels are with you.

--Racer

Buy here:  Together Forever




Not from Together Forever, but classic MTB nonetheless