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Outside Lands Music Festival
Day 1 Photos & Top 3

August 29th, 2009 | No Comments

Words by: Kayceman & Dennis Cook | Images by: Dave Vann

Outside Lands Music Festival :: Day 1 :: 08.28.09 :: Golden Gate Park :: San Francisco, CA

The second annual Outside Lands Music & Arts Festival brought unusually warm weather to San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park. Reveling under the clear hot sun without a fogbank to be seen, the crowds slowly trickled in swelling to an estimated 30,000-plus for Pearl Jam‘s two hour headlining show. From Autolux, Akron/Family and The Dodos early to Zap Mama, Built To Spill, Silversun Pickups and The National mid-day all the way to Tea Leaf Green, Tom Jones, Q-Tip and Thievery Corporation later, there was music of all variety and with such incredible weather and manageable crowds the vibe was overwhelming positive.

Kayceman’s Top 3 From Friday

1. Pearl Jam – Almost two hours of unrelenting rock from acoustic slow burns to mid-tempo tension to all-out ball-busters, Pearl Jam is still one of the best rock bands on the road. Featuring only two songs from the forthcoming new album Backspacer, both “Got Some” and “The Fixer” came off well, but it was classics like “Alive,” “Animal,” “Better Man,” “Evenflow” and particularly psychedelic versions of “Corduroy” and “Black” that made the show. Beginning at sunset and playing into a gorgeous, warm night, even Eddie Vedder‘s end-of-tour-beaten voice couldn’t slow the band as they closed a stellar performance with two Neil Young covers, “Throw Your Hatred Down” (off 1995′s Mirrorball which Young recorded with Pearl Jam) and “Keep On Rockin’ In The Free World.”

2. Built To Spill – Although it should have been louder, Built To Spill’s swarming guitar madness made up for any volume deficiencies. Playing a hit-heavy set that included “The Plan,” “You Were Right,” “Car,” “Unconventional Wisdom,” “Carry The Zero” as well as one new track, “Hindsight,” from their album due in October, the band moved from spacey free-rock jams to punked-up aggression to patient restraint. There’s a reason BTS received more shout-outs than any band all day with both Eddie Vedder giving respect and Silversun Pickups frontman Brian Aubert gushing, “Built To Spill is one of the greatest bands ever!”

3. Silversun Pickups – After this set, it should now be clear to all why this L.A. indie quartet is playing major time slots at festivals like Lollapalooza, Coachella and Outside Lands. They freakin’ rock! Any volume issues from Built To Spill’s set had clearly been regulated and SSPU was big – HUGE actually – and loud like it needs to be. Less Smashing Pumpkins than a year or two ago, this band has grown into their sound. Overdrive guitars, feedback storms and some of the best scream-vocals around made songs like “Swoon,” “There’s No Secrets This Year” and “Kissing Families” fierce and cathartic.

Special Reunion Slot: A Tribe Called Quest – At Q-Tip‘s funner-than-hell hip-hop set (which was sadly dedicated to DJ AM who passed away Friday night) featuring a live band, fans got something super-duper special when Q brought out Phife Dawg, his partner from Tribe, for “Award Tour.” Upon the song’s conclusion Q was visibly giddy, beaming as he remarked, “Don’t know if y’all will ever see that again.”

Dennis Cook’s Top 3 From Friday

1. Tom Jones – Oh my Lord, Tom was glorious! There’s something enduringly entertaining about old school showmen like Jones, who continues to sing like Zeus himself while exuding a manly aura that makes one want to paw him, regardless of one’s sexual orientation. Backed by a crazy tight, super talented band, including a swinging, forceful horn section and on-point back-up singers, Jones showed no signs of slowing down, ranging through his giant catalog and showing off the way-better-than-expected new tunes and setting off waves of pure joy with generation crossing hits like “She’s A Lady,” “It’s Not Unusual” and his saucy cover of Prince’s “Kiss.” It was pure Golden Gate Park magic to see grandmas cutting loose with tattooed love boys and hardened bikers, everyone belting out the words with massive grins.

2. The National – After close to a decade this Brooklyn band is proving one for the long run and a real cumulative powerhouse on a festival stage. Not a dud note in their hour set, which dropped one beautifully crafted, emotionally delivered number after another. The jangle is strong in this band but it’s often layered over music that vibes with the poppier end of Radiohead, though The National’s dark side tends to be more lyrical than sonic. “Fake Empire,” which was used extensively during Obama’s White House run, including accompanying the video that ran just prior to his election night speech, was enormously well received by the hyper blue state audience. At one point, Aaron Dessner said, “I just killed a bug on my nose,” and then dedicated the next song to the fallen insect. Class act in every way.

3. Midnite – While a good portion of the crowd seemed either bored or perplexed by the St. Croix-based reggae institution, they nonetheless delivered as deep and heady-spiritual a display as their genre offers. Built around sustained, insistent rhythms and inspired textural shifts, there’s not a lot of peaks and valleys, and Bob Marley’s influence is almost nil, which, shooting straight, is what much of the buttermilk colored audience seemed to be craving. Too bad, because Midnite played an elemental, intense set that exemplified why they’ve built a large and ever-increasing worldwide fanbase.




West Indian Girl – featuring Guest Vocalist Miranda Lee Richards
Akron/Family
The Dodos
Built To Spill
Vau de Vire & Madd Vibe Orchestra
Midnite
The National
Incubus
Tom Jones
Pearl Jam
Pearl Jam
Pearl Jam

Late Night at the Golden Gate Gramble at Mezzanine…

ALO

GramJam: Jeff Miller, Eric McFadden, Bradly Bifulco, Steve Adams

Check back for lots more from Outside Lands…

JamBase | In The Park

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Wu-Tang:
Chamber Music

August 10th, 2009 | No Comments

By: Dennis Cook

align=right src="http://images.jambase.com/bands/WuTangClan/Chamber.jpg">

Nah, this ain’t the 37th Chamber or anything like it but Chamber Music (released June 16 on Koch Records) is a slight return to form for the arguable mastermind of the Wu sound, RZA. Packed with chop-socky soundbites, spoken word musing and fairly on-point mic wrecking, Chamber Music is embedded in the live instrumentation of NYC’s The Revelations, who provide the raw material for RZA to rework. Like most good hip-hop, this is a skill exercise by all involved and the band keeps things fresh simply by avoiding the usual sampling pitfalls. We also get a straight up slow jam (“I Wish You Were Here”) and the return of some decent posse cuts, which were a major part of the Wu’s early appeal. The MC list includes Ghostface Killah, Raekwon, Inspektah Deck, U-God and special guests Masta Ace, Kool G Rap, Sadat X and M.O.P., and most drop at least a couple memorable/quotable word nuggets. It’s a quality assortment of talents and though a brief set it all flows and flips with renewed energy while still honoring the Wu-Tang’s rich history.

JamBase | Tiger Style
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Phish | 08.05 | Shoreline, CA

August 6th, 2009 | No Comments

Note: In our constant efforts to bring you the most compelling Phish coverage anywhere, we offer two points of view on Phish’s first California show in over six years. First we have general reflections from our Editor-in-Chief Kayceman, followed by a fresh perspective from our Associate Editor Dennis Cook. Enjoy.

Words by: Kayceman | Images by: Susan J. Weiand

Phish :: 08.05.09 :: Shoreline Amphitheatre :: View Mountain View, CA

Kayceman shares a few thoughts on Phish at Shoreline:

MIKE’S BAND

src="http://images.jambase.com/bands/phish/090805_weiand/12_1.jpg">Mike Gordon :: 08.05 :: Shoreline Amphitheatre

Since when is this Gordo‘s band? Don’t get me wrong, dude’s been dropping bombs forever, but I’ve heard lots of chatter about individual band members, how great Trey is playing now that he’s sober and focused (true), how strong Page sounds (no doubt), but after watching Mike control the entire show last evening I am compelled to champion his cause. Whether he was challenging Trey on “Chalk Dust,” crushing the funk on “Cities,” or pushing his fat bass notes into truly dark territory on “Down With Disease” and the hard-earned “Mike’s Song,” Gordo was the dominator at Shoreline.

NEW SONGS

Alright, no sugar here, let’s tell it like it is. We got a lot of new songs at Shoreline and we didn’t get the good ones. And I get it. A band always wants to play what’s new, and any healthy band has to be engaged in fresh material, but overall the selections from last night didn’t do it for me. Here are the new ones from Shoreline:

“Time Turns Elastic” – Time turns boring. Like many of their new ones, there’s a really strong jam at the end, but the set-up is too formulaic, almost like they are covering themselves in a way. Put it back in the oven, I bet it bakes into something nice, but it’s not ready yet.

“Stealing Time From The Faulty Plan” – I dig it, and definitely the best new one from Shoreline. A little like “Character O,” but I also like that track so we’re doing okay. The “got a blank space where my mind should be” chorus really works and Trey’s guitar is mean. More like this, please.

“Backwards Down The Number Line” – Not bad. I hated the placement as set two opener, but it’s a nice song that like “Time Turns Elastic” built up steam as it went. At the end of the day, I’m just not into the introspective songwriter thing with Phish; it’s not why we go to Phish.

“Let Me Lie” – No. No. Seriously, no! I don’t want to think of Trey riding his bike or taking off his shirt to feel it burn or using the brakes when he goes down hill. The metaphors are all wrong. At a rock & roll show we don’t use brakes, we want to fly off the rails because we’re going so fast.

KEEPING IT AFLOAT

src="http://images.jambase.com/bands/phish/090805_weiand/29_1.jpg">Phish :: 08.05 :: Shoreline Amphitheatre

For all my shit talking I actually really liked the show and think the band sounds really good right now. Song selection wasn’t my favorite but a few incredibly well played numbers kept the night afloat. The set one combos of “Chalk Dust”/”Divided Sky” (where Trey nailed the shit out of it) and “Suzy”/”David Bowie” were more than enough to satiate the packed house. Set two was carried by a spacey “Down With Disease” and then the “Maze,” “Mike’s” (a lil slow out of the gate but definitely worth the wait) > “Simple,” “Weekapaug.” The “Maze” was completely demented and likely the song of the night. If “Maze” wasn’t the highpoint, then “Mike’s” was, as shit got primordial in the back section. And just hearing “Bowie” and “Maze” on the same night is enough. Never in all my years have I seen both in the same show. Well played, lads.

SOLID B

For their efforts at Shoreline, I give Phish a solid B. And coming off Red Rocks and going into The Gorge, two mammoth sets of shows, a solid B on a Wednesday night with flashes of brilliance ain’t too bad.

Continue reading for Dennis Cook’s review of Shoreline…

Words by: Dennis Cook | Images by: Susan J. Weiand

Phish :: 08.05.09 :: Shoreline Amphitheatre :: Mountain View, CA

src="http://images.jambase.com/bands/phish/090805_weiand/16_1.jpg">Phish :: 08.05 :: Shoreline Amphitheatre

Enthusiasm is much harder to offer than respect. While passingly familiar with the broad strokes of Phish‘s 26-year career, this show was only my third time seeing them in the flesh. Always feeling an outsider to their very codified clubhouse, I just let them be, marveled at what they’d achieved against any “normal” industry standards and patted my many Phish lovin’ friends on the back as they celebrated this band. However, I walked into Shoreline with a real zeal to unlock their zeitgeist, preconceptions left in a jar at home, and discovered a world class quartet with a vibrant, peculiar, fiercely engaging identity. And they were a shitload of fun, too.

Immediately I was struck by how twisty they are, but in such a friendly way. It would be so easy for this music to veer into artiness and highbrow distance but it really never did. Yes, there were a few meandering stretches but Phish 3.0 seems like a band with a mission, and at least from my newbie’s POV, that mission appears to be to shore up every good thing that’s distinct about them. The wandering is to be expected when juggling such primal ooze but they never really dropped the ball and their idiosyncratic internal logic swept one up in a journey, where time was both elastic and stolen, that will take awhile for my brain to untangle. I’m not sure they were trying to craft a cohesive narrative a la Phil & Friends but there was a scale of storytelling and brave, balls out execution that felt, well, epic (and apologies for falling back on that hoary jam-scene cliche but it fits).

src="http://images.jambase.com/bands/phish/090805_weiand/22_1.jpg">Trey Anastasio :: 08.05 :: Shoreline Amphitheatre

By the time they hit the rawk-tastic “Chalk Dust Torture” in set one I was pretty sold by the curious mixture of elements they stir – Frampton-like classic rock moves mingling with African high life, brainy electric jazz, calypso, barbershop harmonizing, dub accents, bar band moxie and way more. It’s so freakin’ illogical that it transcends any simple descriptor, a language separate from rock’s Rosetta Stone that others can play at but only these four dudes can actually converse smoothly in, a lovely chatter that emerges when they drink up the moment and move off the guide rails. To wit, the jam in “Chalk Dust,” which wobbled on the song’s axis, bellowing sea bottom bass and jittery sprinter’s heart drums being clawed at by hungry guitar that teetered between madness and Joe Pass finesse, wound into a flurry of keys unleashed by Page that actually quickened my pulse. There’s SO much going on in their music that it’s a smorgasbord to choose from, each person free to sample bites or just take in the general yumminess.

And there’s the no small matter of the abundant love their incredibly dedicated throng project towards the stage. Looking around during this show all I saw were people lit up from within by what Phish was creating on stage, and it’s not hard to surrender to that affectionate, alive riptide and join them in celebrating life and wholly engaged music making. Regardless of my ignorance, I love hearing the oddball titles of their tunes murmured adoringly on folk’s lips – “Golgi,” “Weekapaug,” “Ya Mar.” It’s a foreign tongue to be sure, and while FAR from fluent I left this gig determined to do a lil’ Berlitz blitz to bring myself up to speed, a surprising commitment given the shortness of time and abundance of music already on my plate. My anxiousness to educate myself speaks volumes about the intensity of what they laid down.

src="http://images.jambase.com/bands/phish/090805_weiand/32_1.jpg">Phish :: 08.05 :: Shoreline Amphitheatre

I can’t rightly say if this was a “great show” or merely a very good one. I simply don’t have the frame of reference to speak with any authority. What I can say is that despite their massive individual talents it was the group dynamic, their collective noise, especially in the second set that floored me. It’s a sound that runs down jubilation and finds the sweet spot between simplistic fare (there’s a goodly amount of pure cock rock to Phish but also a fair bit of nursery rhyme thinking) and stratospheric, highly theoretical muso smarty pants-ed-ness. More simply, Phish is a fucking platypus, fuzzy but laying hard-shelled eggs, a thumb in the eye to those who stuff things into neat genres. And they did all this with such exposed emotion, raggedly baroque eloquence and gee-whiz bravado that my wig was rightfully flipped.

A few other scattershot highlights: The swerving blur of “David Bowie” that closed set one; Page’s Chucho Valdes-esque piano throughout the night and his strong Traffic-era Winwood lead vocal on their tremendous cover of The Velvet Underground’s “Oh Sweet Nothin’;” Trey‘s heartfelt reading of Los Lobos’ “When The Circus Comes,” even if it put the brakes on the momentum they were building at that point; the wacky juxtapositions of mood and tempo; the way Trey occasionally brought to bear a very Derek and the Dominoes blues guitar growl and vocal yearning; the disco-y take on the Talking Heads’ “Cities;” the wicked turns of “Maze;” their unbridled love for people with “a ticket stub in their hand;” Chris Kuroda‘s Dumbledore-ian lighting wizardry; and the vast distances they traveled, often within a single piece, which ranged from the consciously gigantic and involved down to music box delicacy.

Instead of feeling overwhelmed (which their music can EASILY make one feel) I experienced a tiny taste of what’s kept millions on the ride for decades, understanding that while they’re the focal point, the enzyme, Phish is a collaborative effort produced by a combination of these extraordinarily gifted players, a mind-boggling catalog AND the writhing, hands in the air masses that gather around them. The morning after I can honestly say I finally dig Phish. Go figure…

Phish :: 08.05.09 :: Shoreline Amphitheatre :: View Mountain View, CA

Set I: Golgi Apparatus, Halley’s Comet, Chalk Dust Torture, The Divided Sky, When the Circus Comes, Time Turns Elastic, Ya Mar, Stealing Time From The Faulty Plan, Suzy Greenberg, David Bowie

Set II: Backwards Down the Number Line, Down With Disease > Limb By Limb, Oh Sweet Nothin’, Cities > Maze, Mike’s Song > Simple, Weekapaug Groove

E: Let Me Lie, Bold As Love

For more pics of this show go here.

Phish perform again Friday and Saturday night at The Gorge in George, WA. Check back for live Tweets, setlists, pics and full reviews. Complete Phish tour dates available href="http://www.jambase.com/Artists/2698/Phish/Shows">here.

Just like Leg I of Phish’s Summer Tour, JamBase will be at every stop with more coverage than you’ll find anywhere! Keep up to speed with all things Phish at jambase.com/phish.

JamBase | Awash
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Powder Mill:Do Not Go Gently

July 29th, 2009 | No Comments

By: Dennis Cook

We may be looking at the next great Southern rock outfit. And like their forebears who aren’t just dime store, rebel flag decal wearing copyists, Powder Mill digs their nails into the earthy substance of the American South, capturing the heat and home cooking, the roughhewn history and intrinsically defiant spirit, the plainspoken directness and the gnarled, deep rooted complexitiesÂ…and then serve it up with befuzzed guitars, growling vocals, undisguised country accents and a crushing backbeat.

“It doesn’t matter how you sleep at night just as long as you can get through your day,” snarls bandleader-singer-guitarist Jesse Charles Hammock II on opener “Runnin’ People Down,” which vibrates with the rare, don’t-give-a-damn-’bout-modern radio toughness that’d bring a shit eating grin to Mike Cooley, Patterson Hood and the rest of the Truckers, especially because it’s not just a facsimile of what Drive-By is doing. Powder Mill is dirt-poor real in their own way, pulling teeth with fishing pliers, cookin’ corn in the hills and looking for truth in the wind. This is a band (and music) that’ll fight till the last note fades, a sort of “you can have my electric guitar when you pry it from my cold dead fingers” kinda thing. Combine that tenacity and pleasant cantankerousness with a sonic variety and knack for cool spot instrumentation and shifting moods that compares favorably with under-sung fellow Missouri greats the Ozark Mountain Daredevils. Like that semi-forgotten Southern classic, Powder Mill can take it down, nuzzle in close and whisper about love and desperation in a way that cracks your heart but just as credibly turn it up to ’11′ and bark, “You can bet your suit and tie I’m gonna get some fuckin’ closure!”

Do Not Go Gently (released June 2) jumps into your lap with a cold beer and a wicked grin and just keeps getting better as it wiggles the blue off your jeans. Different sections will hit you harder on different days, where the tough-minded opening section hits your sweet spot on pissed off, hating the boss days but the thoughtful, fiddle dappled simmer of “Wet Moons” or “Lonesome Mama” feed your wistful workingman’s soul in the wee-wee hours. Regardless of personal mood, the sheer togetherness and raw talent of this band is just a pure fuckin’ pleasure. Lead guitarist Jeff Chapman is, to borrow a line from Almost Famous, incendiary. Some dudes roll by their chops (and Chapman’s got those) but six-stringers that strut by feel are often soooo much more satisfying, and Chapman has the touch of an old blind man feeling up college coeds. Plant the whole rockin’ mess atop the equally hip-shakin’ rhythm section of Pat McSpadden (bass) and Andrew Bedell (drums) and you fast begin to get this review’s opening salvo.

Powder Mill is already terrific. Only two albums in and they’ve begun to carve out an identity for themselves that honors but never apes the legacies of Widespread Panic, Mofro, the Allmans, Marshall Tucker Band and other below-the-Mason-Dixon groups that rose above the cliches while savoring their culture. Do Not Go Gently shows a band deadly serious about blasting some big holes in rock’s plump hindquarters, and trust me, their powder is dry and their aim is true.

JamBase | Trailer Park
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Megafaun:Gather, Form & Fly

July 26th, 2009 | No Comments

By: Dennis Cook

This is magic, pure and not-so-simple. Megafaun creates exuberant, never-predictable music that makes one’s brain expand and crackle like Jiffy Pop on a fire hot stovetop. That they accomplish this feat largely without the sturm und drang of punk or machine clatter (think TV on the Radio or The Mars Volta) is doubly impressive. While Megafaun can bring da’ noize (as the kids say) it’s their aptitude and finesse with quieter sonics and gentler emotions that generates much of the wallop on their freakin’ fabulous sophomore album, Gather, Form & Fly (released July 21 on Hometapes), which draws sinewy lines of connection between African strains and barbershop harmonies, vintage British folk rock (a la John Martyn, particularly) and modal jazz, Kinks-ian pop and musique concrete.

The vast array of musical colors on Gather could be kinda dizzying except for the firm grip the trio – Joe Westerlund (percussion) and brothers Brad (guitar) and Phil Cook (banjo, keys, various), aided here by members of The Rosebuds, Mount Vernon, Tender Fruit and others – possesses. While seemingly all over the place listed in print, the shape they build here is all Megafaun. What bubbled up in a germinal form on their terrific debut, Bury The Square, has metastasized marvelously. They fearlessly play with space and sharply jabbed statements on the title cut but prove equally skilled at unadulterated sunshine pop on “The Fade” and spirited, right in the moment white country blues on “Solid Ground,” which delightfully recalls Johnny Winter’s yelping, string brutalizing giddiness on the Muddy Waters albums he produced in the late ’70s. Past experiences collaborating with Dreyblatt and Akron/Family have sharpened their high brow, mighty conceptualizing chops, which hover in the background, but Megafaun boldly chooses to extend a friendly paw on Gather, eager to wag their tail and gobble up Scooby snacks with any kind human that reaches back towards them.

It’s a path perhaps less angled at general critical tastes, which tend to reward darkness and edginess with gold stars far more readily than they do empathetic, positivity arched chameleons like Megafaun. Their loss because Gather, Form & Fly is the kind of record that will pull you from the dumps, change your thinking (on a number of subjects) and remind you of music’s endlessly mutable charms.

Megafaun is currently on a co-headlining tour with Bowerbirds. Click here for tour dates.

JamBase | Well Formed
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Son Volt/Cowboy Junkies | 07.17 | Saratoga

July 24th, 2009 | No Comments

Words by: Dennis Cook | Images by: Susan J. Weiand

Son Volt/Cowboy Junkies :: 07.17.09 :: Villa Montalvo Garden Theatre :: Saratoga, CA

Son Volt :: 07.17.09 :: Saratoga, CA

There’s something so undeniably real about Son Volt. Dressed like workingmen and plying their trade with seriousness and purpose, speaking truth to power and calling out for love in songs that resonate on a foundational level with Woody Guthrie and Gram Parsons. With so many tunes situated somewhere on the intertwined highways of America, a Son Volt show takes one on a journey tinged with strong melancholy and a rugged refusal to be completely ground down by even the worst of circumstances. Surrounded by wine sippin’, well-heeled folks dressed in Men’s Warehouse casual and pretty, probably pricey summer dresses, I felt an outsider in denim and a red tee sporting an Old West gunslinger with the inscription, “If I were to shoot you, it would just be in the leg.” There’s a good deal of blood and suffering in Son Volt’s tales, and even more in co-headliners Cowboy Junkies, and I’d chosen the shirt with care, a small nod to the bands that some of us in the stalls have been paying attention as they’ve built up two of the sturdiest, more timeless catalogs in the past few decades.

With the sun still looming overhead but losing steam, Son Volt played first, setting us off on a trip towards a place that bandleader-songwriter-guitarist Jay Farrar said, “I know when we get there we’ll find mercy.” One of the joys of their music is how it never flinches at our scars or stupid decisions, offering rare blunt empathy for just being human. Farrar rode a thick organ wash, tossing in neck rack harmonica blasts as the band pumped out a sound perfect for rising, dancing and shaking off what cares we’d brought in with us. But, assess stayed planted or wandered the side areas full of sculpted vegetation and statuary. In many ways Montalvo Arts Center wasn’t really their venue, and the conscious foot on the brake that kept almost all overt “rockin’” for the very end of their set told one Son Volt was aware they were a touch out of their element. Unlike the Junkies they don’t have a string of FM radio hits behind them, little nostalgia to draw upon, and thus the material has to sink or swim on its own merits. It’s not hard to like but can blur together a bit, especially the mid-tempo stuff, if you’re unfamiliar with the album counterparts. Still, anyone with affinity for Woody or ’50s/’60s country or even the “Wild Horses” side of the Stones should find plenty to latch onto, even in their raw form.

Son Volt :: 07.17.09 :: Saratoga, CA

One element that caught my ear throughout the show – and across their very strong new album, American Central Dust (released July 7 on Rounder), which formed the spine of their setlist – was keyboardist/pedal steel player Mark Spencer who excels at adding texture and emotional weight to these tunes. His steel work recalls the great Mike Nesmith sideman Red Rhodes, and there’s no greater compliment I can give someone brave enough to tackle this most challenging of instruments. The rest of this band – Dave Bryson (drums), Chris Masterson (guitar, lap steel) and Andrew Duplantis (bass) – is no slouch either, making for easily the strongest lineup Son Volt has seen in many years. There’s the palpable sense of shared heavy-lifting, each guy doing what he can to really make each number breath. While everything was played like pros they really caught some air on the Keith Richards inspired “Cocaine And Ashes,” undying fan fave “Windfall” and some of the rowdier numbers near the end, where they slashed and howled like Nick Cave and his Bad Seeds in best form.

“Thank you for coming out and braving the bugs. Have some beers,” quipped Farrar. As brainy and worldly wise as his songs can often be there’s an unshakeable bar band vibe to much of his work, and this lineup plays ‘em with the kinda of gusto that keeps folks from throwing glass mugs at the chicken wire around the stage. Closing my eyes several times I had no problem imagining folks mistaking some numbers for primo Waylon Jennings or Merle Haggard, and, as if to add confirmation of this outlaw country connection Son Volt finished the set with a galloping, too-fucking-right-for-words cover of Waylon’s “Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way.” Torchbearers for rib-sticking, real people music, Son Volt delivered a lovely example of what they do best, whiskey sluggers amongst vineyard tasters but right gentlemen just the same.

Michael & Margo Timmins – Cowboy Junkies :: 07.17.09

I tend to like the Cowboy Junkies best when they misbehave a bit, play against the grain of the pleasant boutique gig existence they’ve carved out in the States. As a fan since day one, I know what terrible things and dismembered terrors lie within their music. While many only regard them as that band that played “Misguided Angel” and covered “Sweet Jane” so good Lou Reed liked it better than his own version, there’s a cantankerous, Flannery O’Connor side to them that’s always appealed to me way more than their more polite offerings. Thankfully, I got my silent wish when they opened with a raw, noisy version of Neil Young’s “Don’t Let It Bring You Down” followed by the run-for-your-life manic blues of “Hunted.” While it’s almost impossible not to stare at lead singer Margo Timmins, proving herself more and more like one of the few strong, self-possessed, classy ladies to front a band with every year, you miss a lot if you take your eye/ear off guitarist-primary songwriter Michael Timmins, who came out of the gate playing like a dirtier, more impolite Kimock – all the seated mastery with more rough edges and dark inking. Besides being responsible for the general thematic range of the band, Michael’s mood frequently dictates the tone of a given night, and he was intense, focused and seemed anxious to explore their catalog with real energy, and the others all followed suit.

A leaner configuration these days, the Junkies had only the core band – Margo, Michael, brother Peter Timmins (drums) and childhood friend Alan Anton (bass) – and longtime “fifth Cowboy” Jeff Bird on mandolin, percussion and whatnot. Together, the quintet generated a rising heat to meet the warm but cooling summer evening, weaving together murderous tales (“Lay It Down,” “Black Eyed Man”), emotional train wrecks (“Something More Besides You”) and a few clunkers (a cover of U2′s “One” just didn’t work on any level). Part of the fun of seeing them in such settings is how incongruous their subject matter is with the bucolic, privileged surroundings. It’s a community that’s strongly embraced them but doesn’t always seem particularly aware of what they’re bobbing their heads to. That’s no dig – music is meant to be enjoyed/consumed on many levels – but I sometimes wonder, as I did this night, what the Junkies themselves think of all the pastel button downs and Dockers looking back at them as they sharpen their dragging hooks and reload their revolvers.

Cowboy Junkies :: 07.17.09 :: Saratoga, CA

Regardless of venue or crowd mix, I’ve never seen the Cowboy Junkies put on a poor show, and they were especially pleasant at the Garden Theatre. They abandoned the rough play about midway and went into a few acoustic numbers, first with Margo, Michael and Bird, and then just Michael and Margo, where the highlight was a yet-untitled new one with the chorus that begins, “Hey little princess, hey little pea, come down from your tower and dance with me.” Between lines like that and Margo’s between-song chatter, there’s a growing feeling of domesticity to the band and their work, the presence of kids and settled homes creeping into the infrastructure that’s often been built of bone and blood and hard feelings. It’s where the hope that’s emerged slowly in their work over many recent albums may spring from, and like them, Son Volt, too, seems to have snapped up some reasons to believe in recent times. Taken together, one felt like they’d been given something real, something well worth stuffing in the tight confines of their bindle, as they headed towards the shuttle buses and back down the hill to the parking lot.

What made this bill especially apropos was these are two groups operating only by their own internal logic. Nothing about either Son Volt or Cowboy Junkies plays to the fleeting whims of what’s hot and what’s not. Each band has built indestructible bodies of work and continued to refine what they do live. Sometimes this approach lacks flash and can be lost in all the bright lights and fireworks of newer, louder music, but this is how real deal artists do it. This is how one makes a life in music that’s not unlike the jobs many of us work except they give us the tunes we need to make it through our working days. This is how Hank done it and they should be proud.

Continue reading for more pics…


Masterson & Farrar – Son Volt
Andrew Duplantis – Son Volt
Chris Masterson – Son Volt
Mark Spencer – Son Volt
Margo Timmins – Cowboy Junkies
Margo Timmins – Cowboy Junkies
Michael Timmins – Cowboy Junkies
Margot Timmins – Cowboy Junkies

Son Volt tour dates available here, Cowboy Junkies dates here.

JamBase | Bay Area
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Assembly of Dust:Some Assembly Required

July 23rd, 2009 | No Comments

By: Dennis Cook

In terms of classic songcraft and upper tier musicianship, it’s tough to beat Assembly of Dust. Ably lead by singer-guitarist-composer Reid Genauer, the group’s third studio effort, Some Assembly Required (released July 21 on Rock Ridge Music) stands the greatest shot yet of busting this jam-adored cult act into the mainstream spotlight. The production is modern radio thick, the contemporary notion of what “rock” sounds like filtering into the band’s more natural old school leanings, and each cut features a guest turn from a gifted fellow traveler or two.

While this latter move can feel like a stunt in lesser hands, it pretty much works from stem to stern here, where the skyward ache of Genauer’s pipes swoops and turns with the ageless, authoritative glide of Richie Havens on typically philosophizing opener “All That I Am Now,” or the irresistible shuffle of “Cold Coffee,” a cool morning twanger where Genauer sings with smoky depth and David Grisman‘s mandolin provides golden sunlight busting through the gray. While guest star packed affairs often feel random, Assembly takes a considered approach to integrating others into their thing, choosing each for their specific talents, like say the oceanic low end oomph Mike Gordon brings to the shimmering flow of “Arc of the sun” or the dobro sparks Jerry Douglas throws out on the country float of “Leadbelly.”

As said, where past releases have pitched their tent closer to the Woodstock days of The Band or the ’70s Cali country rock heyday, Assembly resonates on a wavelength closer to Cracker, Barenaked Ladies and glossy mainstays like Sheryl Crow or even Bon Jovi (“High Brow” has all the earmarks of a Jovi hit), none of which should imply that the songs have anything to do with these folks. Genauer’s pen remains a steady, shining beacon in a frothy sea but he’s managed to encase his tunes in settings that stand a fighting chance of moving beyond the jam clubhouse and onto mainstream airwaves, where they can only do the industry some solid good. It’s not hard to imagine the same millions who shell out bucks for Jack Johnson or Jason Mraz spilling coin for the Keller collaboration “Second Song” or the acoustic-tinged skip of “Light Blue Lover,” where Grace Potter and Tony Rice help AOD create the greatest James Taylor tune not by Sweet Baby James.

In more than one way, Assembly offers cred in a variety of communities, with nods to serious jazz heads with John Scofield, the folk stratosphere with Grisman, Rice, Douglas and Bela Fleck, and the jam world with Potter, Williams, moe’s Al Schnier and David Crosby/Phil Lesh foil Jeff Pevar. But it’s the booklet inscription from Black Flag guitarist and highly copacetic jamband enthusiast Greg Ginn that perhaps adds the most new critical heft: “You may as well just glue this CD into the player for the next year or soÂ…” Assembly of Dust makes music of vastly wide appeal and the lofty, giant size production and dreamy assortment of collaborators on Some Assembly Required places them in their best position yet for wider discovery. Outside of the palpable absence of former keyboardist Nate Wilson, Assembly is a pretty perfect piece of beautifully turned rock ‘n’ roll. The smarter programmers at classic rock stations, CMT, VH1 and late night talk shows would be well advised to jump on this one so they can brag when the dumber followers figure it out down the line. Well done, again, sirs.

JamBase | Well Put Together
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Larry Jon Wilson:Larry Jon Wilson

July 23rd, 2009 | No Comments

By: Dennis Cook

Forget the compelling backstory, the old school shoulda-been-famous tale and disillusionment with the nuts ‘n’ bolts of the music industry that made him withdraw in 1980, and just listen to Larry Jon Wilson‘s self-titled return to recording after a nearly 30 year absence (released June 30 on Drag City). There’s a purity of form, the intimate-as-can-be mingling of a fantastically lived-in voice and the practiced, natural movement of hands on an acoustic guitar, that’s undeniable. “I’m still drinking gin/ sure bought a lot of gin today,” is a simple enough sentiment but delivered with Wilson’s shit-this-feels-real burr it hits your gut like that one shot too many that makes you aware of all the sickness you carry around inside.

While Steve Earle and countless others salute Townes Van Zandt, here’s a living singer-songwriter who pitches a tent not far from Townes’ lonely, sadly true country. And like Townes, Wilson slips in sharp flashes of hope or just catalogs of the small things that get us through. A romantic fiddle floats in and out here, sticking to the edges of Wilson’s singing and picking, and rightly so, but adding a lovely dance hall of the damaged vibe. This whole set lays bare our tattered collective spirit, picking through what’s been left behind by all the wildfires and stupid decisions and holding up what endures, the pleasures and pains that live through the blaze and stumble, the stuff we just can’t shake, for good reasons and bad.

The only folksy release in recent times that even remotely compares is last year’s similar return-to-recording marvel Misfit Scarecrow by Sammy Walker (JamBase review). Like Walker, Larry Jon Wilson drives down to a resounding, unshakable essence – a real, adult, all-too-human understanding given nigh perfect form. This is an instant classic for God’s lost children and you cheat yourself of something special if you miss it.

JamBase | Real Life
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Tortoise:Beacons of Ancestorship

July 21st, 2009 | No Comments

By: Dennis Cook

Listen to this loud.

From the siren whine and skydiving dub drop of the opening notes of “High Class Slim Came Floatin’ In” on through the delightful analog stroke and circular spin of closer “Charteroak Foundation,” there’s a strong sense of funky mischievousness to Tortoise‘s sixth album, and it’s best heard at skeleton vibrating volumes for maximum efficiency. A true original’s original, the band moves with the tight, limber motion of healthy muscle under smooth skin on Beacons of Ancestorship (released June 23 on Thrill Jockey). Like their increasingly heady live shows in recent years, Tortoise operates freely in a world almost totally of their own making here, and what distant ancestral voices remain – the ferocious inquisitiveness of Can, the fried circuit aural appeal of early Eno, the brainy architecture of Phillip Glass – are akin to the ruins of Egypt or Old Europe, a presence admired and acknowledged whilst life thrives and morphs around the foundations.

There’s an athletic, groovy undercurrent to Beacons that resonates favorably with the manic energy of Mahavishnu Orchestra (or leftwards in time to the speedier, grimier corners of early Aphex Twin). You will shake your behind to this if you crank, say, “Northern Something” and bust out your Target Dollar Bin strobe lights, white hot pants and get into some lubricated grappling. To follow that romp with a breakbeat splattered bit o’ Middle Eastern scented gorgeousness like “Gigantes” is Tortoise’s singular genius. The album stretches to include the Ventures-esque dream dirge of “The Fall of Seven Diamonds Plus One,” the robots waltz of “Minors,” the late night, big city freeway swoon of “Monument Six One Thousand” (close your eyes and you can easily imagine this being the soundtrack running in Prince’s head while he tools around pre-dawn Minneapolis in his BatmobileÂ…) and the ‘lectric Miles-meets-ELP jazz pulse of “Prepare Your Coffin.” And as diverse as it is (and feels), the whole shebang just hangs together SO beautifully. Over time they’ve discovered an underlying rhythm inside their music, a heartbeat or steady breath that unifies all the wide reaching beams they fire off. One piece to another, these wordless-but-quite-chatty instrumentals form a current that carries one perhaps more strongly than any other single Tortoise release to date.

It also doesn’t hurt that the guitars bite down a touch harder this time or that the drums have a bit more glide to their stride. Turns out that waiting five years between 2004′s It’s All Around You and this one paid off in big dividends. It’s not like this group ever slouched but Beacons comes on with the tongue-in-ear candor of a new fling rather than guys who’ve been at their own unique, hard to categorize or shill thing for nearly two decades. From the miniature bedroom electronica perfection of “Penumbra” to the distortion addled hardcore choogler “Yinxianghechengqi” and everything on either side, Tortoise sound fully engaged, announcing in fantastically divergent yet holistically wholesome ways that there’s life aplenty in this band. More specifically, Beacons of Ancestorship is their most exciting, potentially influential album since 1996′s uber-inspiring Millions Now Living Will Never Die.

JamBase | Balancing The World On Their Shell
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The New Up: Summer Tour

July 20th, 2009 | No Comments

REST OF COUNTRY GETS CHANCE TO ENJOY SAN FRAN TREAT

The New Up by Josh Miller

Wrapped in effusive female fronted melodies, darkened by whirling guitars while juxtaposing hard-hitting 00s alternative with psychedelic overtones, The New Up announces summer tour dates in August and September, including Austin, Houston, Cleveland and Portland, in support of the August 18th release of the Better Off EP.

Having played with such artists as The Burning Brides, Jon Langford and Mike Watt, the first EP of the series, Broken Machine, received national recognition where it charted on the CMJ Top 200. Music critic Dennis Cook (Pitchfork, Signal to Noise, JamBase) deemed them “a post-Radiohead group, full of mutated pop hooks, absinthe guitars, smartly wrangled chaos and undisguised beauty and feeling. But, there’s little in the way of influences, even Radiohead’s, that you can pin down exactly… What they’ve made is their own.”

Backed by sincere musicianship inspired by Chicago roots and San Francisco surroundings, The New Up’s influential evasiveness illustrates a dichotomy of urban darkness and Midwestern sincerity, highlighting their equal fascination with nature and urban chaos. Headquartered at their San Francisco home, endearingly named The Pleasure Pad (where the band rehearses and records), members ES Pitcher (vocals, guitar), Noah Reid (guitar, vocals), Hawk West (flute and automation), Dain Dizazzo (bass) and Drew Bertrand (drums) began recording a series of three EPs in the spring of 2008. After lying down the basic tracks at Hyde Street Studios with Jaimeson Durr (Franz Ferdinand, The Killers, Handsome Boy Modeling School), they began layering additional tracks at The Pleasure Pad, where they could explore by recording flute lines in bathrooms and trying odd mic placements in closets – without the pressure and financial constraints of a traditional studio.

For more on The New Up check out this recent show review.

Tour Dates

8/21/2009-Bottom of the Hill, San Francisco
8/22/2009-Cellar Door, Visalia, CA
8/23/2009-Viper Room, Los Angeles
8/24/2009-Soda Bar, San Diego, CA
8/26/2009-Red Eyed Fly, Austin, TX
8/27/2009-Rudyard’s, Houston, TX
8/28/2009-Vinos, Little Rock
8/29/2009-Preservation Pub, Knoxville, TN
8/31/2009-Caledonia Lounge, Athens, GA
9/1/2009-Somewhere Else Tavern, Greensboro, NC
9/2/2009-Alley Katz, Richmond, VA
9/3/2009-Outback Lodge, Charlottesville, VA
9/4/2009-The Red and the Black, Washington DC
9/5/2009-Trash Bar, Brooklyn
9/6/2009-Cedar’s Lounge, Youngstown, OH
9/7/2009-Now That’s Class, Cleveland, OH
9/8/2009-The Robin Hood, Kent, OH
9/9/2009-Carabar, Columbus, OH
9/11/2009-The Dark Room, Chicago
9/12/2009-Cactus Club, Milwaukee
9/17/2009-Zebra Lounge, Bozeman, MT
9/19/2009-Tonic Lounge, Portland OR

Regina Spektor:Far

July 17th, 2009 | No Comments

By: Dennis Cook

Regina Spektor‘s fifth album cements the notion that she isn’t just another comely chica at a piano. With a steady hand, curiously angled wit and on-point melodic sense, Far (released June 23 on Sire/Warner) makes a good argument that she’s Randy Newman‘s curly-topped little sister.

“You went into the kitchen cupboard/ got yourself another hour/ and you gave half of it to me/ We sat there looking at the faces of the strangers in the pages/ till we knew them mathematically/ They were in our minds until forever/ but we didn’t mind/ we didn’t know better.”

The above verse opens the album as Spektor’s confident, quasi-classical piano and Matt Chamberlain‘s drums skip with child-like glee before we’re soon in that kitchen making computers out of macaroni pieces and counting up our feelings. She simultaneously tickles the places in our brains that adore Paul McCartney and e.e. cummings, poetry in populist motion. Far goes down so smoothly that it’s only on repeat that one realizes how many big thoughts Spektor has stuffed into her ditties – views from space, astute observations on faith and how one laughs in the face of, well, all the horrors outside our windows. She’s especially succinct and adroit at handling God on “Laughing With,” which neatly foils notions of flat atheism by citing all the situations no one is laughing at God (and noting that “God can be funny,” something fundamentalists of all stripes frequently forget). But even when she’s not so sky-high-minded, Spektor ladles up music that’s bright and danceable and oh-so-smart without ever breaking a sweat (and she’d catch that perspiration with her eyelashes anywayÂ…).

Moods shift flexibly, where the big blue planet, humanizing reverie of “Blue Lips” is sandwiched between the bouncing inducement to just move “Eet” and “Folding Chair,” the niftiest summer number this season. There’s little she seems incapable of handling with style and a personal character that’s rarely less than seductive and almost never grating in the way that kindred iconoclastic ancestors like Jane Siberry, Nina Hagen and Kate Bush can often be. And like honey to a bee, she’s attracted some clever collaborators. Besides Chamberlain (your go-to skin thumper for girly singer-songwriters when he’s not a Critter Buggin), there’s ELO’s Jeff Lynne, Reggie Watts (Maktub), veteran producer David Kahne (Tony Bennett, Stevie Nicks, Sublime) and engineering comer Jacknife Lee (U2, Snow Patrol, Bloc Party). Often multiple studios and many hands projects like this come across as scattered and overly manipulated but Far‘s vision is all Spektor, who sings with characteristic carelessness, a strong voice utilized like a flaming baton – wild and beautiful despite all the practiced sureness underlying each move.

Far feels timely, a song cycle that’s absorbed the general feeling of being overwhelmed and frightened that marks the early 21st century but refuses to be cowered despite the acknowledged weight of it all. Where it would be easy for Spektor to capitalize on her nook on VH1 and their ilk, she’s sidestepped the spotlight being proffered for a richer and, I dare say, nobler path. Far drives down to the deep strata of us with laughter and sincerity, a giggling hallelujah just when we need one.

JamBase | Tickled Blue
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Vinny Peculiar:Sometimes I Feel Like A King

July 15th, 2009 | No Comments

By: Dennis Cook

So easy to warm to and full of steaming depths once you snuggle in, Vinny Peculiar & The Blue Poppies of Ambrosia‘s new long-player finds the U.K. pop craftsman in his best form yet, a gently swaying encapsulation of slightly left of Beatles songwriting realized with tight, snappy musicianship and good, clean production. If you sport a lil’ sonic chub for Robyn Hitchcock, The dB’s, Sensations, Billy Bragg, The Feelies or other high quality, post-Byrds fare then King is likely to sweep you up with a sure hand.

The quirkier aspects of Vinny’s earlier output are beveled appealingly here, so what shines through is the quality of his singing, playing and tunes. It’s almost as if Peculiar relaxed a bit and decided to stop waving his arms with consciously provocative imagery and little tics that draw attention but perhaps don’t last in the same way plain old good music presented well can. Sometimes I Feel Like A King is just a pleasure to listen to – no more or less complex than that. That he tips his hat at one of the most under-appreciated songwriting outfits in rock with a sincere cover of the Cowboy Junkies‘ “Sun Comes Up Its Tuesday Morning” only shows the company he wants to keep. From the jumpy crackly of “Uniform” and “Success” to the thoughtful meander of “Success” to the curled-lip snarl of “To Hell With Fashion,” Vinny Peculiar has fully matured into an artist anyone smitten with great pop will adore.

JamBase | Full Bloom
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Otis Taylor:Pentatonic Wars and Love Songs

July 14th, 2009 | No Comments

By: Dennis Cook

The most exciting, creative new voice to emerge from the blues world in the past decade continues to confound expectations on his tenth album, Pentatonic Wars and Love Songs (released June 23 on Telarc). As the title implies, the theme of love swirls in this latest baker’s dozen, but the ribbons, bows and romance novel cliches are ditched for a harder, sturdier kind of love full of heat and calloused endurance.

For a musician known for sussing out the wonder of simplicity, often kicking around a single chord for a good spell just to see what might be seen, Taylor drives outwards from his African-rooted incisiveness to create a song cycle that’s amorous without being drippy, an adult conception of universally held feelings that’s commensurately weighted. New to the Taylor mix are succulent piano (courtesy of jazz riser Jason Moran) and flamenco and electric accents from U.K. guitar hero (and Taylor pal) Gary Moore. Daughter Cassie Taylor continues her upward climb as both a singing siren and fine, feel-oriented bassist, and there’s African accented percussion, cello, glinting cornet and Otis’ own sublime, frequently understated guitar and banjo. There’s no one else putting together these components in quite the same way, and with each passing year and each new release Taylor proves himself one of the preeminent musicians of our time. Pentatonic Wars once again finds him commingling deep traditions in ways that give them fresh voice and renewed life. While the label “trance blues” is the most frequent tag for his sound, this new set goes some ways towards stealing ANY shorthand for his work. As with all true originals, Otis Taylor’s music stand alone.

The songs here examine love from many angles, from a lost guitar to the respite of a Sunday morning bed to something perhaps higher and more elusive to human beings. While his gift for finely chosen expressions repeated mantra-like for maximum impact remains as a thread, there’s a whole boatload of new wrinkles here, perhaps most poignantly a delicacy and pronounced sensuality (often expressed in vibe more than actual words) that some of his more hard-nosed, unsentimental tales have sometimes lacked. He’s a truth-teller, utterly unafraid to go where his muse takes him, and while some that walk this oft-dark path can feel morose, Taylor just feels resoundingly honest, telling it like it is, without moralizing or hand holding, and leaving it for us to sort out. To hear him tackle love is a real treat and assures him another spot on Best Albums of the Year lists far and wide.

JamBase | Heart of It
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Dave Douglas & Brass Ecstasy:Spirit Moves

July 13th, 2009 | No Comments

By: Dennis Cook

Tipsy, trippy and toodle-loo-y, veteran trumpeter Dave Douglas‘ latest dips New Orleans moves in something funky – no, not another groove band but so pleasantly off-kilter that one feels a lil’ woozy after spending time in their company. Underpinned by drummer Nasheet Waits, Douglas brass sheen is joined by Luis Bonilla (trombone), Marcus Rojas (tuba) and Vincent Chancey (French horn). The ensemble swings but not too tightly, enjoying the rounded edges of their instruments and fat, overlapping tones. And Douglas’ compositions give them lots to work with but also enough room that individual personalities emerge over the 11 cuts, which culminate in a sweet cover of Hank Williams’ “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry.” Along the way there’s a superb tribute to Lester Bowie that really captures his wild essence, the elegant glide of “Nava” and the appropriately tubby wobble of “Fats.” Spirit Moves (released June 16 on Greenleaf) is a pleasant reminder that jazz is a broad American spectrum, not just bebop, fusion or any other cul de sac.

JamBase | Blowin’ Sweet
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Bowerbirds:
Upper Air

July 10th, 2009 | No Comments

By: Dennis Cook

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One morning you wake to find you are shackled to your bed and bound and gagged. Oh my, what a predicament.

With this Bowerbirds fabulous sophomore album, Upper Air (released July 7 on Dead Oceans), is off and running towards a freedom we already possess but frequently forget or deny ourselves. As sparkling and pastoral as their debut was (JamBase review), this leaps into the world, climbing as high as the title implies with strong wings – no melting wax contraptions here.

Their foundation of friendly, left-of-center sing-a-longs remains, all the winning traits associated with folk distilled by one band, but they greatly expand on their palette this time, infusing their darkly observant tunes with a moan and reach full of arching electricity, graceful chamber music-esque turns and a vocal blend that’s positively swoony. There’s not a dud amongst these 10 cuts, which build in density and enjoyment as the record spins to its trembling, sunset conclusion. From the delicacy of “Silver Clouds” to the songcraft perfection of “Northern Lights” to the guarded hope of “Bright Future,” every song hits its mark, piercing us with truths snared with thoughtful poetic language and music to match.

In some ways, Upper Air plays in the same fields as recent (and quite excellent) releases from Grizzly Bear and Antony & The Johnsons but with more exposed skin and color in its cheeks. This grapples with fate and the world, as it is, never forgetting the flesh and bone beneath it all. Just wonderful stuff.

Bowerbirds are currently on a joint tour with the equally swell, outside the box Megafaun. Find dates here.

JamBase | Stratosphere
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Sometymes Why:Your Heart Is A Glorious Machine

April 19th, 2009 | No Comments

By: Dennis Cook

“I’m gonna take you home and have my way with you/ This will be a memory that’s gonna stay with you.”

Seduction can rarely be consciously manufactured. The real deal fills our senses and inspires unreasonable, perhaps even unwise reactions, but lordy it feels good. Sometymes Why‘s new album, Your Heart Is A Glorious Machine (released March 10 on Signature Sounds), opens with the above line and then seeps, pheromone-like, into the listener – unrushed, warm to the touch, prickly in captivating ways, expertly executed throughout. Trust me, you’re pretty much done for when this trio – Kristin Andreassen (Uncle Earl), Aoife O’Donovan (Crooked Still) and Ruth Ungar Merenda (The Mammals) – starts working their wiles on you.

There’s a gorgeous, subtle overlap to this collaboration that suggests nothing less than an estrogen rich answer to early Crosby, Stills & Nash, where each primary is so strong they’d handily hold the spotlight alone but taken together they’re harmoniously lethal, serving consistently excellent material and keeping the arrangements and production airy, their fantastic, character rich voices never overshadowed by any other element. That said, their instrument switching instincts are spot-on, knowing just when to add a shimmer of tambourine, bell toned glockenspiel or heartbeat drum to the largely acoustic settings. Early Joni Mitchell is the easy reference point, but Sometymes Why is tougher, less man-handled, more aware of their power and more willing to use it than that legendary waif of the canyon.

I’d hate to oversell Your Heart Is A Glorious Machine but if you vibe with any of the listed touchstones then you’re going to find lots to love here. Each pass reveals a new silken thread to pull, a great turn-of-phrase that wanders off with you into the night or a melody you can’t shake and don’t really want to. The sheer ‘why’ of this group is well worth pondering, and like the best lovers, they don’t spread out their secrets all at once, drawing us near for pillow talk and low dawn conversations that get at real things with a few tears and gentle kisses.

JamBase | Harmonized
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New Monsoon | 04.11.09 | S.F.

April 18th, 2009 | No Comments

Words by: Dennis Cook| Images by: Susan J. Weiand

New Monsoon :: 04.11.09 :: The Independent :: San Francisco, CA

New Monsoon :: 04.11 :: San Francisco

There’s the saying, “They broke the mold when they made so-and-so,” but there are bands that never fit in a mold in the first place. What they do is their own thing from the start and conformity, even the shattered variety, isn’t part of them. There tends to be a great surge of life, an organic immediacy, in such bands. One picks up on this in The Band, Traffic, Weather Report, Allman Brothers and the Grateful Dead, all of whom I’ve referenced in the past as ways into the singular sound of New Monsoon, an ever-evolutionary S.F. ensemble that fits no standardized shape. From the first time I caught them at the Boom Boom Room in 2003 (see review) right up to this warming, elevating night at The Independent, the feeling of a unique trajectory has permeated their work. What happily amazes is how they’ve moved from strength to strength through lineup shifts, fiscal travails, etc. and emerged even more dedicated to their uniqueness, feeding THEIR music and in the process developing a more focused picture of what it is New Monsoon is about.

I entered the cozy San Fran clubhouse with opener AllofaSudden in silken flight. Unafraid to play big, there’s something of ’70s Santana to them but also the bump of New Orleans soul-rock and no small part of pure jam culture exploration. New bands often get timid when climbing musical mountains but such grand scale grappling seems their natural pocket. Fueled by two percussionists, their solos invited us in by degrees, teasing out the fireworks to come, while avoiding the frequent pitfall of meandering common to many jam-minded groups. There’s elongation but in service of actual songs. In this way, AllofaSudden remind me a lot of Outformation, down to similarly spiky guitar solos and trundling footsteps, which blossomed into a full blown Widespread Panic roar during their closing number. These boys put their backs into it and it’ll be interesting to see where they take this large beast they’re constructing.

First off with New Monsoon, it’s worth noting that few bands throw together their core elements quite so seamlessly – complex, lively instrumentals AND focused vocal songs, electric AND acoustic lead instruments, rock rhythm section AND folk/jazz inflected melodic elements. At times the juxtapositions have even been jarring and less successful but by their third tune this night, the bubbling jump of “Song For Marie,” the mix in their cocktail was fizzing beautifully. The five-piece configuration of Bo Carper (acoustic guitar, banjo, vocals), Jeff Miller (electric guitar, vocals), Phil Ferlino (keys, vocals), Marshall Harrell (bass) and Sean Hutchinson (drums) has some miles under their belts now, and witnessing the space and air of their music together was really compelling. They listen to one another well but also feel a confidence in their compatriots that allows each guy to dig in hard, where every person onstage is offering something special to the end result, a collective swell produced by individual character and joint creation. Put differently, it’s fun to watch such engaged, talented folks work and what they slap on ya feels real good.

Bo Carper – New Monsoon :: 04.11 :: San Francisco

Their woodshedding away from stages was heard perhaps most clearly in their improved vocals, both individually and in harmony. Dedication to craft is central to New Monsoon, and if they catch whiff that there’s an area they might improve it’s a fair bet they’re chiseling away at it when away from the spotlight. Bo Carper is developing into a confident singer capable of infusing real personality into his vocals, and the pairing of Miller and Ferlino is showing increasing nuance and depth. Face it, most bands that got their start in jam circles have shit vocals, almost an afterthought in many cases, and I admire that New Monsoon simply won’t allow this aspect of what they do to go untended. And this dedication surfaced in many other little ways – new guitar tones, snazzy new fretboard tricks, interesting piano runs and organ swell from out of nowhere, expanded bass bounce, deepening percussion reverberation. It wasn’t one thing, one guy that stood out so much as the harnessed craftsmanship in all respects.

However, individual accomplishments count. Noteworthy was the general tastiness and colorful tonality of Jeff Miller’s guitar work, the English pop chirp emerging in Ferlino’s lead vocals, the heady technique and artful restraint of Bo Carper’s playing and the increased intimacy of Hutchinson and Harrell. The best musicians, and these boys rate, make all the finger-knotting practice hours and frustrating missteps invisible. What we hear is the end road, the place of arrival, but I closed my eyes a few times and images of blacksmiths’ hammers and mule drawn plows lead by dustbowl farmers leapt into my head, subconscious resonances flitting inside their notes.

Jeff Miller – New Monsoon :: 04.11 :: San Francisco

A few highlights: the sauciest fucking “Greenhouse” with slithering Ferlino organ, humming, blues-heavy lines from Miller and a downright sexy vocal turn by Carper; the stunning and unexpected encore of David Gilmour’s “There’s No Way Out Of Here,” which honored the studio original off his 1978 solo debut by not defusing the inherent darkness and clinging dismay as well as offering a great platform for these players; new compositions “Next Best Thing” and “Black Wing,” which show there’s no dust on them, with the latter shaping up to be one of the finest pieces yet in their canon; a positively psychedelic “If 6 Was 9″ that unleashed Carper’s inner lover man and showed what smart, judicious instincts the rhythm team possess; a take on “Downstream” that left most long-time fans pleasantly shaken; and the general arc of both sets, which took one on a real journey if they just ditched their bindle and hopped aboard their vessel.

One of the primary appeals of New Monsoon is their sense of scope and wide context, and their ability to intermingle light and darkness, understanding that life is full of contradictions – highs AND lows, pleasures AND sour swallowings. I’ve often likened their shows to lowering one’s self into water. Sometimes the chill snap of it sinks icy teeth into you but more often than not there is heat and carbonation greeting us, inviting us to wade in with them. As their own collectivity has risen, so too has the potential for a quality group experience on our side of the stage – a sensation that was wonderfully palpable at The Independent and made one feel hopeful for the music to come from this vibrant outfit.

04.11.09 :: The Independent :: San Francisco, CA
Set I: Next Best Thing, Naked Truth, Song For Marie, Cross, For One Night, Downstream, Greenhouse, Bridge Of The Gods

Set II: The Other Side, Black Wing > Jam > If 6 Was 9, Deep Inside The Corridor >Alaska, Southern Dew, Trust In Me > Jam, Daddy Longlegs
Encore: There’s No Way Out Of Here

Listen to or download a soundboard recording of this gig here. And this show was in celebration of the release of a fab new double live CD featuring the quintet in fighting form. It is available now here, and you can stream it once for free below!

New Monsoon tour dates available here.

Continue reading for a few more pics of New Monsoon in San Francisco…