Movin' On Up

Singer/multi-instrumentalist Cheyenne Marie Mize celebrates the release of her new EP, We Don’t Need, Saturday at Headliners Music Hall, with Silver Tongues opening. She told us about signing with an established indie label and looking toward her next full-length album.

LEO: The EP’s release was delayed from last fall once you signed to Yep Roc.

Cheyenne Marie Mize: Yeah, originally Roaring Colonel Records was going to help us out. We had been talking a little bit to Yep Roc and it made sense, if they were going to come on board, to hold off on the EP and get a bigger team amassed. It was really great. In September, I was in Raleigh for the Hopscotch Festival and got to meet the whole Yep Roc team. They came down and saw our show, and it was great to meet everybody in person.

LEO: Do you feel any more pressure because there’s a potential for a larger audience now?

CMM: No, not more pressure, it’s more excitement. This EP is kind of strange in that it’s a little taste of a lot of different things. In that way, I think there’s probably something for everyone on it (laughs), you know? Everywhere from the really dark, more digital drums and that kind of sound to a little more organic, with percussion and piano going on underneath, and everything else in between, as well.

LEO: When you were putting it together, was it a conscious choice to do it that way?

CMM: Yeah, in a way. I had a group of songs I was ready to record, and each of them were kind of oddballs in their own way, so I figured it would make sense in some weird way (laughs) to put them all together, and just get them out there. I knew it was going to be a while before I could really put out a full-length record on my own; I thought I was going to be doing it on my own, so I really wanted to get some new music out there, considering it had already been two years since I’d recorded Before Lately. I was just ready to get some new stuff out there. Those songs were the first ones that made sense.

Learn more at cheyennemariemize.com.

Photo by Meagan Jordan.

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

John Cowan adapts to the modern world

“To be honest, if the Doobie Brothers hadn’t come along, I don’t know if I could’ve held on to my house.”

So says John Cowan, a pioneer of the genre known as “Newgrass.”

“The economic crush was just terrible,” the friendly and surprisingly frank Cowan tells LEO. The Evansville native, the only member of New Grass Revival who hadn’t come from a bluegrass background, had toured with the Doobies briefly in the mid-’90s and returned last year as bassist for the classic rock group, partially out of necessity.

Now, with his own trio, the 58-year-old returns to a city he long ago called home. Louisville, what Cowan calls “my favorite town in the world,” is where he began his musical career after graduating from Eastern High School.

“I consider myself a native. I don’t know if Louisville considers me a native, but I do.” He played in bands like Everyday People and Louisville Sound Department before joining Sam Bush in New Grass Revival at the age of 20. That band, which fused traditional bluegrass with a ’70s rock ’n’ roll energy, also helped launch Bela Fleck to prominence.

Cowan moved to Nashville in 1980. “It’s a great place. I love Nashville, I really do. Other than serious conservative Christian churches every two blocks, and the attitude that goes along with that, it’s actually a great town to be an artist in — believe it or not.”

Having worked with everyone from obscure bluegrass pickers to Garth Brooks and Wynonna to the aforementioned Doobies, Cowan acknowledges, “I’ve had a kind of curious life. By choice or by the artists’ path, it’s been a nice mix of both art and commerce for me … My time in New Grass Revival branded me every way possible that is good.”

The band may not have sold millions of albums, but many musicians were fans. “That’s a great calling card to have in your pocket. It’s definitely afforded me a lot of respect … To this day, it’s how people — even though I’ve done so many other things — it is, to this day, 20 years after we broke up, still how I’m introduced: ‘Oh, you know, John Cowan from New Grass Revival.’ It’s funny, for a band that never had a hit, to have some relative renown.”

Cowan needed to cash in that relative renown even more after he married a woman with six kids. That midlife transition also meant that the musician had to adapt to two different schedules — long drives on the road and “a fairly normal life” at home.

“It’s a little hard, biologically speaking,” Cowan says. “When I’m on the road, I go to bed at 3 in the morning; but when I’m home, I have to get up at 6 to take them to school. That’s because I want to; I want to spend as much time with them as possible.”

Though Cowan’s family life has been fulfilling, the recent economic downturn hit hard professionally. “It was really tough. Before I got this opportunity to go back to work for the Doobie Brothers, we had a five-piece and then we had to break down to a three-piece. My wife lost her job that year at Christmastime.”

He was dismayed at the closure of ear X-tacy, noting, “One of the downsides to living in the information age is there’s no retail … everything is file sharing and MP3s now. I’ll tell you one thing I’ve witnessed, that most people in my genre — whatever that is,” he says with a hearty laugh, “country bands or whatever — sell CDs at shows, and that’s a big part of their excess income. It certainly is for us.”

Despite all the conflicts, he is still as in love with music as ever. “I think music’s in good shape. The kids are all right, as The Who said once.” Some of Cowan’s recent favorites include the Black Keys, Dawes and Fleet Foxes.

“I’m not one of these guys — I’m 58 — who goes, ‘Everything sucks today.’ I don’t agree with that. Probably the fact that I have kids around me all the time is one reason I’m able to be exposed to modern music. They’re always like, ‘Hey, check this out on YouTube.’”

THE JOHN COWAN BAND
Saturday, Jan. 21
Uncle Slayton’s
1017 E. Broadway • 657-9555
johncowan.com
$15; 8:30 p.m.

Photo by J. Michael Krouskop

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

Sean Cannon’s adventures After Dark

Through the years, Louisville’s AAA public radio station, WFPK, has attracted a large audience with their blend of thoughtful, semi-commercial singer-songwriters, alt-rockers, jazzbos and folkies. One target demo they had struggled with was the 16-34-year-olds group, but some recent, younger additions — music director and morning host Kyle Meredith, late night mixers OK Deejays and evening DJ Sean Cannon — have helped make the station more appealing to that generation.

For Cannon, whose experience has also included work in print news and music blogs, it’s obvious that he would utilize social media to help make the most of his program (heard Monday-Thursday nights on 91.9 FM and wfpk.org). “WFPK After Dark” not only plays some of the most interesting current music — a recent night featured songs by Dum Dum Girls, Kurt Vile, Deerhunter and Russian Circles, alongside usual suspects like Joan Osborne, Coldplay and the Dave Matthews Band — but recently expanded to add interview segments featuring hip folks like comedian Marc Maron, cast members of FX’s “The League,” the founder of taste-making music site Pitchfork, a co-owner of local eatery Please & Thank You, and bands like 400 Blows and Cave In.

“It’s been an interesting experience,” Cannon says. “The weirdest part, I think, is that a lot of those have just been set up through Twitter. Kyle and I were talking, and just sort of flippantly sent out a couple of tweets to (“League” co-stars) Paul Scheer and Mark Duplass, and they were both, automatically, ‘Yeah, I’ll do it tomorrow. Give me a number.’

“It started out in a very different form. When I initially got the job, I talked to (program director) Stacy (Owen) specifically about what I wanted to do … it morphed into an idea of doing an interview with someone every night, having them pick songs and doing DJ sets, every single night. So, from there, well, I’ve got to find people to interview. And it’s like, once this starts, I can’t just go, ‘OK, I’m not going to do it!’ six months in. I did the math, and it’s something like 160 people, because what we’re going to do is two months on, two weeks off. Two months of new stuff, two weeks of ‘best of,’ so it would be like a season or a series.”

Cannon was raised as a pop culture lover in Mayesville, Ky., which he immediately identifies as “the home of George Clooney,” as well as basketball stars. Two years at the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary didn’t agree with him, as he found it to be “a little too Southern, a little bit too Baptist.” Downtime at a job and friends met online led to work for the blog Buzzgrinder, which led to appearances on WFPK, which led to “After Dark.”

“I was working at Q-doba at the time, 30 hours a week … I was so uncomfortable on the air because I was so green, so I’d work 45 hours a week here to get up to speed … I would get maybe four hours of sleep a day. But I guess it worked out all right.”

photo by David Modica

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

Syrupy treat

Bosco released two EPs in 2011, setting the stage for what can only be world domination this year. Or, maybe just some more great music. LEO asked Sam Craig to help the world understand what we’re in for.

LEO: What is “hardcore flat grass”?

Sam Craig: In so many words, country punk. Also known as roots punk. We are punk rockers playing the three-chord songs we are used to playing, but on traditional country instruments to a bluegrass tempo.

LEO: While some of your music is kind of raucous, some of it is very pretty and might not seem suited for rowdy bars. How do you manage to balance the two sides?

SC: You would be surprised — this sound is quite popular in the underground and is only getting bigger. It is, indeed, a punk act. We play louder and talk rougher at gigs.

LEO: Your cover of Richard Hell’s “Blank Generation” is a good example of how you’re influenced by punk and country. What’s the common thread?

SC: Bluegrass shares certain characteristics with punk music — similar topics of pain, sorrow, wanting something better and, on the other side of the coin, consuming alcohol and laughing with friends is already in place within both genres. The common thread was already there, we just chose to walk it accordingly.

LEO: You have made some of your music available on cassettes. Why do you like this format?

SC: CDs don’t really sell. Every band has a CD to push at their shows and on their websites; cassettes certainly stand out. The main attraction is the physical product, but the economically viable aspect is the mp3 download included with the tape. That is the best selling format these days.

Bosco plays Jan. 13 at the Mag Bar and Jan. 16 at Baxter’s 942. Check out mosbosco.bandcamp.com.

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

The LEO interview: Langhorne Slim

You can read LEO's profile of Langhorne Slim in this week's print edition. For fans, here's more of our discussion:

LEO: First of all, tell me about your grandma.
Sean Scolnick: My grandma is a wonderful woman. All my grandparents were very wonderful people. I’m in Florida now with her because my grandpops did pass away about 5,6 months ago. I’m from Philly, from a town called Langhorne, and she’s been living with my mom. Now that the weather’s getting shitty, she’s coming back to Florida, so I came back to help the transition a little bit. It’s been cool, man. We had time off, since we just recorded a new record, so I was in Argentina and now I’m in Florida — I’m doing everything I can to follow the sun.

LEO: Where in Florida are you?
SS: Delray Beach. It’s where the old East Coast Jews go to retire.

LEO: Right…
SS: I saw your last name, I thought you might be also part of the tribe.

LEO: I would not have known that you were, from your music, or a casual glance. But I see it now.
SS: Right (laughs). There’s not too many Jewish themes in my music, but I’m not trying to keep it a secret. I’m proud.

LEO: Has there been any influence, culturally if not sonically, on your songwriting or performance?
SS: I don’t know. Certainly there’s an impact, just being raise that way. I sort of gave it up religiously; people say, “You’re more like a Jew through the tradition or the culture, family stuff,” that’s stuff I feel is a part of my world and my life. But I’m not exactly practicing.

LEO: If your band played some Klezmer tunes, it wouldn’t not make sense.
SS: No, in fact, I consider Klezmer to be dance music. I love me some Klezmer. I listen to it and I dance around to it, but I never play it myself.

LEO: What does your grandma think about your music?
SS: My grandparents have been extremely, extremely supportive. We just recorded this record — usually when we’re done recording records in the past, I would have a CD of rough mixes and play it for my family. This time, I just had it on my iPhone, and I don’t have an adaptor — so we thinks I’m holding out on her. She’s like, “Don’t you just have a CD?” One of these days, I’m gonna go to a store out here and find an adaptor so I can play it for her. She’s come out to shows and has always been — my whole family, but my grandparents had a major impact on my brother and me, growing up, and they’ve always been one hundred percent supportive and really into it. Which is pretty awesome.

LEO: It’s great that they never tried to push you to be a doctor or a lawyer.
SS: You know what I think it was, man? I think they might have thought about it, but I think it was so clear, growing up, that that was not a path that I was going to be able to take, even if I wanted to, and that if anything was going to keep me out of trouble, that would be art or performing or music. I think they saw how happy it made me and, as soon as I started gaining certain accomplishments or making a living at it, it would almost have been crazy to talk me out of doing something that made me happy, that I was also starting to make a living at.

LEO: How do they feel about your itinerant lifestyle, being on the road and moving around all the time?
SS: I think, in the beginning, my mom, too, they would worry about me, just traveling so much, and I think that they’d didn’t even understand, like the first time we went to Italy: “There’s somebody in Italy that you’ve never met, who contacted you and now you’re gonna go there for a month and travel around Europe …?” I’m like, “Yeah! (laughs) This is what I’ve always wanted, this is the way this life goes.” So now they get it. They’re still my Jewish mother and grandmother, but I think now they realize they’re still going to worry a little bit, but I’m not going and getting kidnapped; I’m actually going because people have booked shows, and we’re gonna go play them.

LEO: They thought it was like internet dating at first, but now they see you on “Letterman”.
SS: That’s what shows are, essentially. They book the show and then you show up and meet a bunch of strangers (laughs). That’s the beauty of this life, man, it’s what I love. I do, I do.

LEO: Do you find the concert experience to be like a blind date?
SS: Well, I went on one blind date when I was a lot younger, and it was fucking terrible. There are similarities, but I wouldn’t equate it. I mean, I play shows that are terrible, too, but the vast majority would be like a really, really great blind date.

LEO: When you have a bad show, do you blame it on the audience?
SS: Never. I’m hard on myself, to a fault. We play a ton of shows, so not every night is going to be magic — I understand that intellectually, but in my heart and soul, that’s what I want. I’m upset with myself any time it really isn’t that way. There certainly is a major component where the energy of the band and the energy of the audience, when it does synch up in that magical, beautiful way, it certainly helps the show to be great. If an audience is super low energy and the big is really high energy, it can be a crappier version of the blind date. I always think that it’s up to the performer to connect and to try to get those magical results.

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

Langhorne Slim on music, dating and Grandma

It says something about the current state of rock ‘n’ roll that one of its most passionate and urgent performers needs to call LEO back after he finishes running errands with his grandmother in Delray Beach, Fla. It says something, too, about the character of Langhorne Slim — known to his family as Sean Scolnick — and how he was raised.

“My grandparents had a major impact on my brother and me, growing up, and they’ve always been one hundred percent supportive and really into it. Which is pretty awesome,” says the 31-year-old folk and punk-inspired singer/songwriter/guitarist.

A native of Langhorne, Penn., Scolnick’s family has always been supportive, if a bit cautiously at first. “I think it was so clear, growing up, that (having a typical career) was not a path that I was going to be able to take, even if I wanted to — and that if anything was going to keep me out of trouble, that would be art or performing or music.”

“They saw how happy it made me and, as soon as I started gaining certain accomplishments or making a living at it, it would almost have been crazy to talk me out of doing something that made me happy, that I was also starting to make a living at.”

Tours with the Avett Brothers, Lucero, Josh Ritter and many others, plus appearances at Bonnaroo, Lollapalooza and on David Letterman’s show have helped them understand the life of the troubadour.

“I think that they didn’t understand, like the first time we went to Italy: ‘There’s somebody in Italy that you’ve never met, who contacted you and now you’re gonna go there for a month and travel around Europe?’ Scolnick laughs. “I’m like, ‘This is what I’ve always wanted, this is the way this life goes.’ So now they get it. They’re still my Jewish mother and grandmother, but I think now they realize they’re still going to worry a little bit, but I’m not going and getting kidnapped; I’m actually going because people have booked shows, and we’re gonna go play them.”

His family is among the first to hear his new records, though Grandma’s sneak preview of the upcoming Langhorne Slim album, The Way We Move, due in May, has been delayed.

“Usually when we’re done recording in the past, I would have a CD of rough mixes and play it for my family. This time, I just had it on my iPhone, and I don’t have an adaptor — so she thinks I’m holding out on her.”

The live shows are where the band truly excels — usually. Scolnick discusses the relationship between concerts and blind dates. “That’s what shows are, essentially. They book the show and then you show up and meet a bunch of strangers,” he laughs. “That’s the beauty of this life, man, it’s what I love … I went on one blind date when I was a lot younger, and it was fucking terrible. There are similarities, but I wouldn’t equate it. I mean, I play shows that are terrible, too, but the vast majority would be like a really, really great blind date.”

Read an extended interview at bluecat.leoweekly.com

Photo by Liz Devine

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

Haunted Pop

The public release party for the indie pop-rock band House Ghost’s debut full-length album, The Adventures of House Ghost, doubles as an art event for Craig Hawkins at the 930 Art Center in Germantown (doors at 7 p.m. for art, with music beginning at 8 p.m.). House Ghost guitarist Shane St. Clair’s other band, Interstates, had also been scheduled to play this event but recently canceled. The busy man also manages the new gastropub Four Pegs Beer Lounge and Social Eatery. He took a few moments out of his hectic schedule to tell LEO Weekly what his newest band is all about.

LEO: Why did you name your band “Holy Ghost”?

Shane St. Clair: Haha, good one.

LEO: How did the members meet? What was the initial inspiration for this band?

SS: (Vocalist/bassist) Keith (Miller) and (guitarist) Derek (Keijner) and I have been in project bands and making records for six years, so the three of us have been friends for a while and always made music together. The inspiration for House Ghost was to take Keith’s songs and put them against a surf-y, dream-pop landscape.

LEO: How was recording the album? Did anything funny and/or notable happen during the process?

SS: Recording was/is fun. The record was made in living rooms and basements across Louisville. We’re probably most passionate about the recording and making-records aspect of being a band, so we put a lot of work into it and deliberated a lot.

LEO: Who is the least talented member of this band?

SS: Me!

Facebook influences cited: The Beach Boys, Starflyer 59, Polaris, The Magnetic Fields, The B-52s, The Pixies, Fountains of Wayne, Best Coast, Otis Redding

Sample the sounds of The Adventures of House Ghost at your leisure at houseghostmusic.bandcamp.com.

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

album review: Rare Treats

Rare Treats
Wolf in People’s Clothing
GUBBEY



As far as Christmas presents go, receiving Louisville folk artist Patrick Thompson’s lo-fi recordings as Rare Treats was a nice surprise under the ol’ LEO tree. His bio states that Thompson “wanted to make a record that didn’t sound entirely like it came from Louisville, Kentucky,” and by that standard, it mostly succeeds. Though traces of ’90s forerunners can be detected, the Rare Treats blend of DIY punk, metal, art and underground riffage reduced to the most basic elements is more reminiscent of the underappreciated Wipers or very early Sebadoh than Slint or Rodan. Though distortion is employed, melodies remain clear and purposeful, and Thompson’s relaxed approach is a welcome change of pace from the many careerist bands who put too much effort into sounds unworthy of big, expensive productions. This Wolf manages to simultaneously sound as fresh as tomorrow and as authentic as a lost 1991 recording, demonstrating that whatever you think the Louisville sound is, those sounds can always surprise you.

c. 2012 LEO Weekly