Chuck Prophet – The Hurting Business

 

Even back then, I could tell.

There may not be many people around who remember Peter Accident and the Duck Revolution, but I do.  Most importantly, I remember the spiky-haired, freakazoid guitarist, sliding across the stage on his knees at the High School Talent Show, shredding away on his Telecaster to some homemade punk song far in excess of the limited talents of the band around him. 

That was Chuck Prophet.  And even then, I could tell.

Walking through the halls of high school, it was apparent that Chuck wouldn’t be long for our small town.  I don’t know if it was the Los Angeles vibe of his birthplace that just didn’t fit in with the small, semi-rural town in Northern California, or if it was something else.  Some unexplained longing that seemed to permeate through his skin.  His way of walking one step to the side of everybody else.

I wouldn’t say that Chuck and I hung in High School, but we were always right with each other.  We shared that common acknowledgement of being outsiders in a place that didn’t really like outsiders.  And we were-- two misfit, semi-loners who found their refuge, their escape. . . nay . . .their reason for existence, in music.  For Chuck it was the burgeoning punk scenes of LA and San Francisco that fueled his passion.  For me, it was the NWOBHM.  But the specifics of the music didn’t matter.  Punk or metal. When we passed each other in the hallways, we gave that knowing nod of outsider acknowledgment.  We were always right with each other.

Peter Accident and Duck Revolution wasn’t destined to be long for this world, but it was just the first stop on Chuck’s lifelong musical journey.  In 1982, I went to see REM at the Keystone in Berkeley on the Murmur tour, and there was my old classmate, Chuck, opening the show.  Don’t remember what he played, or even if he was any good, I was just psyched to see my friend on stage, still tearing it up with the knee-sliding abandon as he did with the Ducks.  Chuck saw me and invited me backstage where we hung and talked and I had the opportunity to be completely ignored by Michael Stipe (not in an offensive kind a way.  He was in his hide-behind-my-long-bangs shy days). 

And even then, I could tell.

Living in Los Angeles after High School, I gained some miniscule measure of notoriety as a DJ at the local punk station KSPC FM, where Chuck and I crossed paths again.  Not in person, but in the grooves of the records I was spinning. Chuck had taken up residence with the rootsy/Paisley Underground heroes, Green On Red, just in time for their classic, Gas Food Lodging, lending them that killer guitar work that brought the band world-wide acclaim.  I was a big Green on Red fan even before Chuck joined, spinning them weekly on my radio show.  Green on Red made it big in Europe, even as the band wilted down, ending up simply as a duo with Chuck and founder Dan Stuart.  (If you’ve missed any of the Green on Red albums --even the first one before Chuck joined-- go check em.  Great stuff.)

And even then, I could tell.  More waited ahead.

The end of Green on Red, didn’t spell the end of Chuck’s music.  From his solo debut, Brother Aldo in 1990 through to his current release, the San Francisco-themed album, Temple Beautiful, Chuck has crafted a solo career that has made him a hugely respected purveyor of fine Americana. Blending his off-country roots with some raw, distorto-blues, and a Tom Petty-ish talk/speak/singing voice, overseas Chuck is seen as an American treasure.  A roots icon on the order of John Hiatt, Ry Cooder, Tom Waits, or Ryan Adams.  I’ve always thought it was strange that Europeans appreciate Americana roots music more than Americans do, but there it is.  In Europe, Chuck is definitely appreciated.

Now, so far, this hasn’t been much of a record review, and in truth, at this point I could plug in any one of the titles of Chuck’s 12 albums.  They’re all consistently good, and pretty much universally praised.  But for now, The Hurting Business, released in 2000 is the one moving my mojo.  Perhaps it’s the blending of dirty, raunchy blues, like the gritty “Shore Patrol,” that doesn’t shy away from a little turntable scratching, or the downtempo, near-trip hop beats-under-the-roots-vibe of the ironically melancholic “I Couldn’t Be Happier.” “Rise,” is a masterpiece of bluesy mood, distant menacing western atmosphere, with some effect-laden guitar.  The combination of the downtrodden, but steady beat, and Chuck’s near-whispered vocal is so sultry it’s like sex captured on vinyl.  Title track, “The Hurting Business,” crashes into the garage with a swirling farfisa organ and some crunchy guitar chords, as the whole things swings and sways with a mutated-blues-drawn surf-vibe. 

“Apology” is a straight up roots ballad that speaks to the universal truth-- that of being wronged and wronging others.  Consider this Chuck’s “Everybody Hurts,” that blends right into the turntablistic-punky blues of “Diamond Jim,” complete with Tom Waits-esque coffee can percussion.  And don’t forget “It Won’t be Long,” a tenderly-aching ballad of the highest Tom Petty order.

And in the end, that’s the key.  Chuck has such a deep wealth of songwriting talent that he can dig down and twist his soul to bring out whatever moves him. With The Hurting Business, it’s Chuck’s willingness to experiment with the form of the roots, bringing in that eccentric blend of hip hop/trip hop beats, blues, and grind that makes the album work.  It’s never boring, always unpredictable, and a listen that never fails to satisfy.

Having collaborated with Warren Zevon, Lucinda Williams, Soloman Burke, Cake, The Silos, Alejandro Escovedo, Jackpot, and having had his songs covered by the likes of Boz Scaggs, Gordon Lightfoot and Kelly Willis amongst others, the world is starting to see that which those of us who'd witnessed the chaos of Peter Accident and the Duck Revolution always knew.  And Europe touts.

Chuck Prophet is an American Treasure.

And there’s more to come.

I can tell.

--Racer

Revenge of the Quick Ripple Bursts - Vinyl Punk Edition; Featuring Fonzarelli, Luther, Restorations, Tin Armor, and Sharks Come Cruising

Fonzarelli – Last Chance Summer Dance

Tsurumi Records keeps on expanding and keeps on releasing one quality punk release after the next.  Spinning on the turntable today, in beautiful royal blue wax, is their latest Jack Endino produced platter, Fonzarelli, and their debut Last Chance Summer Dance.  And let me say, this definitely won’t be Fonzarelli’s last chance.  Packing in more hooks than you could find at a bass fishing tournament, and marrying those hooks to Endino’s punchy production, Last Chance Summer Dance is a glorious celebration of pop punk in all it’s snotty glory.  “Halfway Dead” is simply a gem of the genre while “Defenseless” is a boppy punk party.  But before you think you can pigeonhole these guys as post-Green Day popsters, they unleash a manic frenzy of “Japanese Rock” on you and you quickly realize that their punk muse ain’t afraid to experiment and play. 

Vocals are a touch on the whiny side for me, but that’s my only minor complaint, and in truth, when they marry their touch of snot to a song with the skill and chops like “Baby Me Too,” I realize that things really are just perfect.  Pop punk perfect.  Like all Tsurumi releases, a full CD of the album is included inside, and the package is first-class all the way.  Can’t wait to see what they comes out with next.

 Tsurumi Fonzarelli page

Luther – Siblings & Sevens

Black Numbers is another upstart punk label, --like Tsurumi—that has captured my attention with quality alt-punk releases like the sensational PJ Bond release last year.  Luther is their latest find, a quartet from Philadelphia, and let’s cut to chase; Black Numbers keeps their winning streak alive.   Back in my old radio days, The Replacements burst from out of nowhere, ramrodding the intensity of punk rock with the sincerity of mid-American roots music, and now Luther picks up the mantle and runs with it.  Starting with a delicate passage of acoustic guitar and vocals, Luther explode into the intensity of their post-hardcore pop fury with chopping guitars and pulverizing rhythm work.  And from there there’s no stopping them.

Replacements earnestness is here in spades, forming the core for a musculature of emo-hardcore and skin of pop hooks.  Never does this sound forced, but purely natural.  Aggression is there but tempered by true songcraft.   Nicely done.

Each song on this 7-song EP satisfies in its own way, without ever sounding repetitive or redundant, but I’ll give a special nod to “There’s Always Money . . . “ with its chugging bass and buzzsaw guitar blitz.  I particularly dig the little hiccups of harmony vocals.  All this and sparkling marbled yellow vinyl to boot.  Worth checking out.

 http://blacknumbers.limitedpressing.com/products/11777

Restorations – S/T

Seems like I’m giving as much love to labels today as I am the bands, and that’s good. Without quality labels, much of this music would never see the light of day.  One thing I love is when a label has shown such a keen eye for talent that I can pick up almost any release and know what to expect.  That’s not to say they all sound the same, but genre’s seem to be understood and quality is expected.  That’s what I get from Tsurumi, Black Numbers, and another punk upstart label, Tiny Engines. 

Last year, I had the pleasure of being introduced to Restorations by way of their debut EP and was immediately drawn to their sound which occupied a niche firmly planted between the aggression of hard core, the earnestness of mid-western roots rock, and the jangly, shoegazing, intelligentsia of indy rock, Restorations sounded unlike any other band I’d heard in quite some time.  With a rough-hewn, leather-bent to the vocals, delicate acoustic guitars, and an impending sense of danger, as if any song could explode at any second.  Now on their debut full-length, Restorations have built upon that base and added a quantum leap in maturity and songwriting to create a rootsy-cum punk- cum shoegazing masterpiece.  Each song plays out like a mini roots punk-gothic epic, unfolding at its own leisurely pace, led in by a gentle strum or languishing pick.  But the danger is always there, hiding, waiting.   Whether or not each song explodes or not isn’t as important as the drama they create, the dark clouds that gather over the wind-swept fields of grain.  The demon about to possess the scarecrow.  Moving, effective stuff.

http://restorations.bandcamp.com/

Tin Armor – Life of Abundance

Toning down the punk side of mid-western aggro pop, Tin Armor instead turn up the alt-country vibe to unleash a panorama of earnest-alt country power pop.  Talk about a step in maturity!  Compared to their last release this is a band that has grown by leaps and bounds, fortunately never leaving their passion behind.Beginning with the piano-led title ballad, Tin Armor waste no time digging into their country roots with the plain-rockin’ “Plain Limbs” and the piano rocker “Inside Days.”  In fact, it’s their liberal use of piano to lead the tracks that makes them stand out from other mid-western post-punk country rockers out there.    None of that is to say that the guitars are missing and don’t contribute to the whole, as they do, like the whole guitar outro to “Inside Days,” but it was the play off the early piano verses that really make that guitar burst stand out.   Dig that jazzy bass-led intro to “Just So I Know It.”  Imagine a fusion of Wilco and Death Cab for Cutie, and you won’t be wrong.  By far my favorite cut on the album.  If that interests you, jump on board.

Seems like there’s an abundance of sincere-roots rockers out there these days, keeping punk ethos alive in new and different ways.  Add Tin Armor to that list, but add them to the top.

Album available for "name your price" at http://tinarmor.bandcamp.com/

Sharks Come Cruising – A Past We Forget That We Need to Know

Now, let’s talk about roots!  Recently, Pope and I have been enamored by the Dropkick Murphys side projects like Everybody Out! and Rick Barton and the Shadowblasters, where traditional folk roots get married to the passion of punk with explosive results.  Listening to those albums over and over could never have prepared me for the furious folk-punk eruption of Sharks Come Cruising.

Coming from Newport RI, an old fishing, sailing, and pirating port, SCC take folk punk one step beyond.  Imagine a pirate ship (or merchant ship for that matter) full of sweaty, unbathed, homesick sailors making port, rampaging into the closest local pub, swilling back pints of ale by the barrelfull and erupting into furious song, and you’ll get an idea of SCC’s roots.  This is drinking, run-soaked, lost sailor ditties, revved up and ready to be consumed by a new generation.  Vocals are salt-soaked, whiskey brogued spittles of original ale-swinging classics and old-time, traditional shanties.  Water-soaked floor boards creak and squeak under foot as the sailors proceed to pluck on acoustics, violins, percussion and the occasional squeezebox, singing in gang-unison to their hearts lament. 

And it’s fantastic!  I can only imagine being in a Newport bar while these cats lay the homesick blues down.  You can’t not get drunk to this music.  Even if you’re not drinking, the fumes of ale coming off the lyrics will wrap you up in an intoxicating blend of trad New England sailors folk and immediate punk energy.   I saw that these cats play a few shows with Restorations.  Yep, that’d be a winner.

As for the songs here, no need to point out highlights.  It’s all good.  Just open a bottle of your favorite whatever, grab your best mates, and imagine that glorious return to soil after months out to sea.  Spill your beer, kiss your best girl or the one you’re with, dream of home, and prepare for the months out at sea still to come.

It really is that good. 

--Racer

http://www.sharkscomecruisin.com/fr_welcomeaboard.cfm

Rick Barton and the Shadow Blasters – An American Rock Song

There’s an iconic scene in the movie “American Beauty” where the characters and the audience are mesmerized by an image of a plastic grocery bag blowing in the wind.  Caught in an updraft, it circles, flips, dips, and twists in an almost surreal ballet.  The bag itself is ugly.  The dirty sidewalk it drifts above is filthy.  But the juxtaposition of these two images with that weightless floating creates a scene of magical beauty.

Welcome to Rick Barton and the Shadow Blasters debut album An American Rock Song, except take that image of the plastic bag and substitute a floating, circling strip of leather, faded and tattered.  Edges worn from years of hard living and abuse.  Color faded and cracked.  Imagine that tattered piece of leather floating through the air like that magical plastic bag, rising and falling, climbing above the gutter and the garbage on the street, leaving behind the similar rubbish.  It's ugly, but it's seeking to soar.

That’s Rick Barton and the Shadow Blasters.

Mixing punk, folk, and rock and roll into an incendiary cauldron of down-trodden emotion, battered dreams, and never-ending hopes, Rick Barton has crafted an album that has already shot to the top of my Top 10 list for 2011.  Recently Pope and I espoused the amazing punk/folk hybrid of Everybody Out! An offshoot from the famed Dropkick Murphys.  Yep, that was a Rick Barton project.  Well, it seems there’s just no end to the DM offshoots, nor the talent of Rick Barton.  Rick Barton got his start with the Murphys.  Co-founder and guitarist in fact.  Add to that a band with former members of Amazing Royal Crowns, the Del Fuegos, and the Swinging Steaks and we off and running down a road to punk folk heaven.

I knew I was in good hands from the first few seconds of opening track “No Place Like Home.”  Above the resounding strum of an acoustic guitar, Rick Barton’s weathered and tatty voice sings out “I will be your worn out shoe, that’s covered far too many miles.”  The band kicks in behind him with chiming guitars reminiscent of a folkier U2 with a rootsy edge.  And right away you can tell this is no ordinary love song.   This is a song of blunt honesty and human frailty.  Of human survival.  And as the female backing singers join in as Barton belts out the chorus, “We’ll fall right into each others arms/and pretend everything's ok,” I can feel the passion, the authenticity.  Barton really is that worn shoe that’s covered far too many miles.  His voice is a thing of brutal beauty, passion burning through those shredded and tired vocal chords.  This is a true American roots classic, brimming with punk vitality.  This modern day Johnny Cash, a little worse for the wear, but just as passionate, telling a tale of making it through each day. 

“All Over,” fills the sound out even more, guitars jangling through the mix creating a moving wall of sound, cymbals crashing, bass pounding.  The band jumps into a faster vibe, particularly as the song whips itself into a fury for the closing.  That’s when it hits me; this is the closest I’ve ever heard to an American version of The Waterboys.  Those of you who remember Mike Scott’s band know what I’m talking about.   Folk and punk brought together in perfect symmetry, and the musicianship to carry it all off.  Loud and full, but real and honest.  “These Kids,” takes that energy and pushes it one step further.  Like Bruce Springsteen mixed with the Sex Pistols, chugging along at full speed, telling another tale of the streets and the fight for survival and trying to find something better.  Some life better.

Then comes “American Folk Song,” and boy, is it ever.  The first time I heard this song my jaw literally dropped.  I pulled the car over to the side of the road and just let it flow over me.  This song is a classic, a true American Gothic tale with a sinisterly mournful fiddle playing behind Barton’s acoustic and that plodding, woeful bass.  “We search for the truth but we only find questions which led us right back to our own point of view,” Barton sings as he reaches for his gun.  “The story was written on the day I was born,” he continues over the maudlin pace.  Until the chorus and all sorts of emotional hell breaks out.  Guitars rain down like thunder as Barton finds some level of passion in his voice that I couldn’t believe existed.   I had no choice, I simply had to let this song wash over me, sweep me up in its flow and carry me away.

“Lookin’ Out,” ups the Clash quotient and drops it right down onto the dirty streets of America.  “A Dime,” is a lost gothic treasure, as if Springsteen’s Nebraska album was reborn for round two.  Or better, as Barton sings, “Don’t fool around with my heart.  It may not be broken, but it sure isn’t sound.”  Yet through all the pain and weather-worn crags and cracks, I can’t help but believe that Barton has found a place where he clings to the brightness of hope.

And to me, that’s what this album is about.  Survival.  The strength to pick yourself back out of the gutter and let your past fall away.  Realizing that who we are is not the sum of our past decisions and mistakes, but who we choose to be in the moment. As painful as the past has been, the future hasn’t yet been written.  And its up to us to decide what that future will be. 

Sure, I may be reading (listening) too much into this album.  But I don’t think so.  Barton is a true American storyteller, and his story holds true for me.


--Racer

Buy here: One Way Productions

hear samples at:

http://www.onewayproductions.com/rickbarton/index1.html

The Return of Earnest Rock - Featuring Tin Horn Prayer, Only Thieves, The White Soots, and Thee Nosebleeds

It's there.  Can you feel it?

Bubbling up from the underground.  Pulsating from the heartbeat of the punk clubs and rock stages.  Surging from the heart of middle America.  A return to true, earnest rock and roll.  Maybe it's a reaction against the overly-produced drivel that fills the airwaves. Maybe it's a statement about getting back to our roots, to what's core and meaningful.  Shit, maybe it's all in my mind.  All I know is that the Ripple Office has been inundated recently with a barrage of quality, back-to-the-roots of rock and roll albums from a diverse cross-section of bands.  And I for one, couldn't be happier.  They all do it in their own unique way, and they all kick my ass.

So let's get to them.

Tin Horn Prayer - Get Busy Dying

Featuring ex-members of such punky bands as The Blackout Pact, Only Thunder, Ghost Buffalo, Love Me Destroyer, and Pinhead Circus, Tin Horn Prayer come out of the speakers like a methamphetamine-fueled Tom Waits with a major chip on his shoulder and a suicide complex.   Man, does this one kick me upside down of Tuesday!  Major roots Americana here, including banjo, mandolin, and accordion thrown into the mix with the (mostly acoustic) guitars, bass, and drums.  These guys go way outta their way to prove that punk is a state of mind, not a function of electricity.  "Better Living," just may be one of my favorite lead-off tracks I've heard all year.  Yeah, we got that mandolin kicking us off in all it's spartan beauty, bass and drums bubble underneath before the whole band launches into just a monster of an acousti-folk punk song.  One helluva verse melody and just a choral hook that can't help but capture you like a hangman's noose.   I mean one for the ages.  Toss in some ridden-hard-and-hung-up-wet vocals and I'm in roots-punk heaven.  When I say weathered, I don't mean these vocals are whiskey-aged, I mean they're perfectly leather-cracked, barely escaping from the vocal chords. This song saunters and rocks and funks and grooves, and it's all punk, baby.

"Crime Scene Cleanup Team," may be just about the most clever suicide note ever placed to music.  Rather than scrawling a note to those who've wronged him, the author composes his final lament as an apology to the crime scene cleanup team who're gonna have to clean up his house after he blows his brains into a "red Picasso painting on the walls."  Take lyrics like that and drop them over a seriously rockin' uptempo, guitar and banjo raver and you'll get a good feeling where these guys come from.   Earnest?  Hell, yes.  They're like an unplugged Dropkick Murphys,  or a head-on collision between Son Volt and the Street Dogs.  Either way, I can't stop listening.

Only Thieves - Heartless Romantics

Another beer-soaked belch of churning earnest rock and roll, this time layered with a slacker sensibility and a hint of full-on Replacements instability.  Cracking guitar work, layered upon layers bring an old school post-punk indy vibe to this cascading wall of sound.  This is pure rawk and roll, layered with years of grit and road dust.  Hearts are bared fully on their sleeves, and those sleeves dripping with sweat, whiskey, and a touch of exasperated blood.

Back in the day, we had a band called The Call.  Oh yeah.  Talk about earnest rock, with Michael Been belting it out as if his soul's salvation depended on it.  Only Thieves mine a similar roots-angst vibe, with their chiming guitar assault, spraying punk spit, and pleadingly honest lyrics and vocals.  Take a song like "Flood Lights" and I can almost hear Micheal Been's spirit being channeled in righteous indignation (RIP Michael.  You left us too soon).  That's not to say Only Thieves are revisionist, they certainly aren't.  Just take that Call template, inject it full of Replacements rawness, some Superdrag and Lucero punk and indy savvy, and coat that whole thing with the leftover dust from an Uncle Tupelo concert and you'll get the feeling.   "All Sad Young Men," masterfully mixes big indy guitars with exploding percussion, pop smarts and punk energy.  "Discoveries" does the same with massive tsunami walls of churning guitars and zealot vocals.  Springsteen gone punk.  I like it.

The White Soots - S/T

A do-it-yourself effort that literally reached out through the speakers with gripping hands of fuzzed guitars, grabbed my ears in their icy death-grip and pulled me right back through the circuitry into their insanely hip world of retro-fuzz. stoner-fied, acid-garage mania.  A three-piece of brothers Kyle Byrum on guitars and vocals, Kraig Byrum on drums, along with Karl Benge on bass, The White Soots first came to my attention from all the love the fine gents at The Soda Shop have showered on them over the months.  And let me tell you, the Soda Shop boys were right.  The lava lamp has gone and completed exploded all over these guys.

'60's speed-cranked, retro garage fuzz dominates this blissfully deranged psychedelic haze of pop concoctions.   Kyle lets loose hallucination-inducing rivers of guitar solos (as on "If I Go") that are enough to cause cosmic waves to collide in time warped tunnels of psych madness.  The Black Keys are here.  The White Stripes wish they could be.   But don't let all this talk of garage-psych madness put you off, the boys channel enough retro-R&B into their songwriting menagerie to bust out numbers like "Don't Shoot" and "You're Evil," or the pure groovy, gotta-bust-out-my-bell-bottoms hipster-vibe of "Watch the Horizon."   Monster-extended, JPT Scare Band-worthy jams like the 11 minute "Give Me Back My Land," and it's fuzz, senses-shattering guitar assault sit comfortably right next to 2 minute plus primal-garage pop stompers like "Where Did You Go."  No matter how you slice it, you can't lose.

Thee Nosebleeds - S/T

Now that The White Soots dropped us off in the garage, we may as well stay there, crawling way to the back underneath the rusting piles of moth-holed radiators, oil-stained rags, and sludge-crusted carburetors.  Somewhere back there, behind the moldy stack of semen-stained porn magazines you'll find Thee Nosebleeds, doing their damndest to not impress anyone.

Guitars whiz by like drive-by shootings.  Drums dissolve into the mix like acid melting through '70's worn vinyl.  There's a bass there . . . somewhere, or so I'm told.   Probably hiding behind the draino-ate-my-trachea vocals.  And amongst all this chaos, you'll find a freaking gem of cocaine-garage punk like "South Street Shooting Spree," or the bathtub-brewed meth speed punk fest of "As Fast as You Can."   These guys are so grizzled they eat razor blades for breakfast and spit out metal links that they somehow chain together into remarkably catchy songs like the chemical-freak meets The Ramones blitz of "Kill Kill Rock N Roll/Miss West Philly USA."  "Pigfoot's Revenge," works a belligerent blues riff into the mix, while "Motormouth" is simply 440 horse power garage gun metal punk at it's finest.

I couldn't be happier that this album didn't come as a "scratch and sniff" cause there just ain't no part of me that want's to know what these guys smell like.  But listening's just fine.

--Racer

Modern Day Moonshine - Refuge

A friend of mine has an original drawing by Bruce Burton of “The Family Tree Of American Rock.”  Here are a couple of photos of a poster made from the original drawing posted by Violator @ MuzicForums.com:

The tree is made up entirely of the names of American rockers and rock bands.  Trailblazers, such as Chuck Berry and Elvis Presley, are deeply embedded in the tree’s trunk. Wilson Pickett, Otis Redding, ZZ Top, Beach Boys, James Gang and their ilk are relegated to branches and leaves.  It is a heady drawing - a wonderful artistic tribute to the breadth, scope, and growth of rock music.  

As I listened to Modern Day Moonshine’s release “Refuge” The Family Tree Of American Rock came to mind. The content of “Refuge” is as if Modern Day Moonshine (“MDM”) guitarist, vocalist and songwriter Todd Goodnough came upon the Family Tree and shook it as hard as he could. Leaves and twigs fell to the ground. Goodnough and his bandmates, bassplayer Brendan McCaskey and drummer David Burrows, then assembled a collage of twelve original tracks from the scattered debris. You have a branch of Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young; a bit of Bob Dylan bark; a slice of Dave Mason heartwood; a cone or two of the Doobie Brothers; a few stray needles of Allman Brothers; and some Atlanta Rhythm Section sapwood covered with “Champagne Jam.”  There is even a leaf of Brahms from the nearby Family Tree Of Classical Music Composers.

MDM generally mine the Folk/Country/Alternative Rock genre. Yet, there is also a nice soul blues ethos.  CSN&Y had a particular acoustic and electric guitar sound that was led by Neil Young and Steve Stills.  Goodnough has much of the same approach in his guitar work.  McCaskey thumps and bumps with precision and Burrows pounds out impeccable time with nicely played rolls and fills.  The notes sound like the buds of spring.  Each bursts into being and turns into a musical food factory.  Tasty stuff!

Yes, MDM’s latest endeavor is under the Ripple label.  True, The Ripple Effect is a Ripple enterprise.  Also true, I don’t get paid to do this by Ripple or anyone else.  If I didn’t like it you wouldn’t be hearing about it.  

MDM’s music on “Refuge”  definitely soars in the canopy of the The Family Tree Of American Rock. It won’t leave you out on a limb.  I guarantee it!

- Old School

Buy here: Ripple Music 

Massy Ferguson - Hard Water

Warren Zevon held the banner high until his death.  From 1978’s “Excitable Boy” through his 2003 swan song “Keep Me In Your Heart” Zevon epitomized the country folk rock synthesis with reflective, humorous, political and historical lyrics and a touch of vocals reminiscent of the some of the best and most successful folk rock balladeers or all time - Jackson Browne, the Eagles, Neil Young, the Jayhawks and Linda Ronstadt.   

When Zevon died the banner slowly fell to the ground.  By 2004 not even Browne, the Eagles, Young, the Jayhawks  or Ronstadt were producing new country folk rock music.  Browne was Running On Empty re-recording his past successes.  The Eagles were releasing a Greatest Hits album and vowing never to play live again unless Hell froze over. Young was performing his rock opera Greendale.  The Jayhawks had disbanded and Ronstadt was singing traditional jazz with the Nelson Riddle Orchestra.

No one picked up the banner for almost four years.  Some came to look at it.  A few kicked at it and several even tried to wave it a few times. But, it wasn’t until a group from the Pacific Northwest decided to clean it off and mend it that the country folk electric rock genre truly returned.  The band, Massy Ferguson, played with it on their first album Cold Equations. But they proudly hold Zevon’s banner high with the release of their second album Hard Water and  the legions of fans should be ready to follow.

Massy Ferguson, named after a tractor company, is comprised of Ethan Anderson, vocals/bass, Adam Monda, guitar/vocals, Tony Mann, keyboards and Dave Goedde, drums.  Anderson’s voice has a wonderful folk rock lilt -  a cross between the clarity of tone of Zevon and the snarl of John Hiatt.  Monda’s background vocals are spot on and his guitar work is melodic and inspired.  Mann knows when the keyboards should shine in, and when they should accent, the music.  Goedde’s drums are rock steady. 

Hard Water was completed in tragedy. Two days after the band heard the first mix for the album Mann’s 14-year-old son lost his life to a sudden and deadly form of meningitis.  The pain and devastation felt by the band carries through in the production values and adds a tragic, emotional and hopeful feel to the final edits. 

The album features rockers, ballads, observations and cautionary tales. Just like in Zevon’s best work, the band’s lyrics contain large scale visual dreams - Cold War imagery ("Sparks and Shrapnel"), true stories of a misguided Northwest militia ("Freedom County") tragic love songs ("Idle Threats and Cigarettes") and tales of regret (“Good Enough”.) This is a thinking man’s country folk rock, exactly the type lost in 2004.  Massy Ferguson brings it back, adds to it, and makes it even better. Where The Jayhawks left off Massy Ferguson begins.

Put this Seattle-based band on your “Must Watch” list.  Massy Ferguson plows fertile ground and produces a stellar harvest with Hard Water. To paraphrase the late Warren Zevon, this is a band to “keep in your heart.”


- Old School

 

A Sunday Conversation with Award-Winning Songwriter, Kevin Beadles

Sometimes you hear a song that just hits that right note in your soul.  Moves you to a place that you've been afraid to go to, or reluctant to remember.  That's the power of a songwriter.  The ability to make you feel, remember, experience something from deep inside.  Little wonder then that when we learned that award-winning songwriter, Kevin Beadles was releasing a new album of beautiful, affecting rootsy americana, we jumped at the chance to have him come join us on the red leather interview couch and lend his thoughts on to what makes a song tick.


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 epiphanies 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?

About ten years ago, a recording engineer loaned me a copy of Lucinda Williams' Car Wheels on a Gravel Road.  He had noticed that I sang and wrote in an affected style (much in keeping with the artists I grew up listening to such as David Bowie, Peter Gabriel, David Byrne).  He thought Lucinda might shake me out of it and she did.  What a marvel of singing and songwriting.  Poetically stark, unflinching lyrics sung with a defiant vulnerability. There was a deceptive brilliance in the simplicity of the writing.  She could twist a vowel in her mouth and run through two or three shades of emotion before the word was finished.  Hearing her inspired me to seek greater honesty in my singing and songwriting.

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?

All the above.  Starting a song is usually the easy part, it's finishing where the work comes in.  Sometimes I sit down to write a letter (full song) and find that all I have is just a postcard (maybe a verse or chorus).  For me, writer's block isn't a lack of ideas, it's not knowing what to do with an idea.  So if I'm stuck on one song, I just pick up another and see where it wants to go.  And I keep doing that until it all falls in place.  Sometimes it happens in one sitting and sometimes it takes years.

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

Songwriting is just something I do. I don't worry about finding ideas; they seem to find me.  In fact, I'm often distracted by whatever embryonic song is tumbling around in my head.  Perhaps that's my way of processing life.  But re-writing is where the real craft of songwriting comes in and that's where I need motivation to keep plugging away at a song, trying to realize its full potential, especially when it's stopped being fun.  Here, my greatest resources are the West Coast Songwriters and my songwriting circle called Club Shred.  Both are chock full of terrific tunesmiths who take vicious delight in tearing apart each other's babies.  Their feedback is invaluable to me and hearing their new songs is a constant source of inspiration.




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

My music unites classic rock with the back porch drawl of gospel, blues and alt. country.  It's roots music with plenty of branches.  Picture Elvis Costello and Lucinda Williams getting in a faded blue '65 Ford pickup and driving across America writing songs about the strange thoughts and characters they meet along the way.



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

I'm drawn to moments of transformation--that interval when a decision is made, an emotion discovered, or a life upended.  There might be only a dozen decisions or events which make any significant difference to the overall arc of a person's experience.  The rest is filler (the subject of "slice of life" songs) and the opportunity to reflect on decisions made or to be made.

In songwriting, how do you bring the song together? What do you look for in terms of complexity? Simplicity? Time changes?

I strive for simplicity but my default writing mode tends to be a little complex.  My band consists of terrific jazz players who were looking for a rock project so that tells me I'm still relying on way too many chords, extensions, and key changes.  If you listen to a song like "A Love Sublime," it just sounds like zany fun but it goes through three key changes, several shifts in feel, and a couple of chords I've never used before.  Someday I hope to master 3-chord rock, which is by no means a pejorative term to my mind.


The business of music is a brutal place. Changes in technology have made it easier than ever for bands to get their music out, but harder than ever to make a living.  What are your plans to move the band forward? How do you stay motivated in this brutal business?

Woody Allen was famously quoted as saying that 90% of success is showing up and I find that's absolutely true.  You never know when or where you're going to make a fan or get a break.  I entered a couple of rough mixes in two big songwriting competitions last year and ended up coming in second place in the rock category with each song.  I get invited to play on a local NPR radio program and the next thing I know, Ripple Music is asking if I'd like to release a CD with them.  I don't have a great overarching plan to conquer the world but I'm trying to write the perfect song and willing to share it with anyone who'll listen, and I'm finding there's an audience for my music.  Any time I'm playing music, I'm doing something I love.  To me, that's success on my own terms and I don't worry about the rest.

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

In the late 80's/early 90's, I was singer-frontman for a band called mr. id.  We got booked to play a Harvest Festival or something of the ilk that was broadcast on cable access TV in Antioch, CA.  The stage was the flatbed trailer of a semi truck, for unfathomable reasons, I'm wearing bicycle shorts, and in the middle of our set, some guy pulls up in a little service vehicle and starts loading bales of hay on to the stage as we're playing.  That was a painful video to watch.

Later, that same band got asked to open for Chris Isaak and we had to pass on the gig because our lead guitarist wasn't willing to cancel the fishing trip he had planned.  That's when you know your band has just about reached its full potential.



What makes a great song?

COURAGE--no wait... that's what makes the muskrat guard his musk.  A great song is one you can listen to a hundred times and still want to hear again.  It's got to be unique (otherwise why listen to that particular song) but can't be gimmicky (even clever BS gets tiresome after a while).  More importantly, it has to tap into an emotion you want to experience over and over.  It speaks and you involuntarily answer "YES!"


Tell us about the first song you ever wrote?

Way too embarrassing...suffice to say, I was about eight years old, the title was "I'm a Fighter Pilot" and the melody bore a suspicious resemblance to "Jeremiah was a Bullfrog..."


What piece of your music are particularly proud of?

I entered five songs from the new CD in international songwriting competitions this past year and four of them won prizes.  So, naturally, it's the one I like best that came up short. "You Can't Argue with Water" absolutely nails something I've wanted to express for a long time... the ephemeral nature of love.  And I think that message is what makes the song problematic for some people.  They want to hear that love is eternal and undeniable, which it certainly can be.  But all too often, love is something beyond our control, it comes and goes, and no amount of whining will change that fact.  Plus the song has one of my favorite lyric couplets, "She blew in out of nowhere and left without a trace/How could a summer thunderstorm leave lipstick on my face?"



Who today, writes great songs? Why?

Ryan Adams, Lucinda Williams, Lynn Smith, Steve Seskin, Bonnie Hayes and a thousand others.  They each have a unique style and ability to get to the heart of an emotion.  There are so many talented songwriters and most of them never get widely heard.


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

Ever since I bought an iPhone, I've been surprised how digital has taken over my listening.  It's always with me... at the gym, on a bike, odd moments in the day.  And it's great to have my entire catalog of unfinished musical bits and riffs on hand anytime I get inspired to work on something.



We, at the Ripple Effect, are constantly looking for new music.  When we come to your town, what's the best record store to lose ourselves in?

I live in a college town (Berkeley) so there are a ton of used record stores nearby.  Just walk a few blocks on Telegraph Ave and you're bound to find one you like.



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

I used to think that being in Liverpool put the Beatles at a major disadvantage compared to bands in London.  Then I read how Liverpool was the major shipping port for the entire U.K. which meant that every kid in town, including the Beatles, knew someone who worked on a freighter and had cheap access to the latest records coming out of the U.S.  At a time when rock music was only played a few hours a week on the BBC, this was quite an advantage.

I think it's great that music is so readily available today.  In fact, it's so readily available that fantastic music can easily be overlooked or forgotten--that's why I love the concept behind Ripple and the waveriders.  So thanks for sharing part of your Sunday with me, I hope you check out my music as well, and please feel free to contact me if anything moves you.