Will Garrison interview

Singer-songwriter Will Garrison makes a sort-of hometown return
appearance this weekend. Never heard of him? Let's hear what some of
our best singer-songwriters say about him:

"Absolutely the best songwriter who ever lived in the Deer Park
neighborhood and high, high in the running for best from this city
ever. Seriously." - Joe Manning.
"His music strikes me as independent among independents - at once
removed from fashion, and plugged in to a vast, peculiarly American
cultural landscape." - Joe O'Connell of Elephant Micah.

I asked the man himself to address some important issues:

Q: Do you consider yourself to be a Louisvillian?
A: Well, I moved around a lot growing up. So I guess I've never really
associated myself with any one place geographically. There is
something special for me about Louisville, though. It's where I spent
my earliest and arguably most formidable years artistically.

Q: What are some things you like about Louisville?
A: It's a humble place. It has a sharp wit and uses that to keep
itself as unpretentious as possible. People in Louisville know they
have something special but they'd never make a person feel small for
it. Oh, and I like that everyone enjoys drinking.

Q: You're touring with The Absent Arch, also from Minneapolis. What do
you like about them?
A They're willing to throw everything they've got into this. I've
found that to be something that's really hard to find. To me, their
sound is sort of how it would sound if John Prine was fronting
Calexico and they had a really solid jazz drummer. But they aren't
defined by their sound. They want to go all over the place, always
trying to go farther and reinvent themselves.

Q: We're having a huge heat wave. Do you wish that you were in
Minneapolis this month?
A: All of us are just happy about being on the road. No matter the
weather, we're really excited about Louisville. I'll be able to see
some family and friends that I haven't seen in too long, show the guys
some great guitars, and get a chance to play with The Commonwealth.
The Commonwealth is one of my favorite bands. (Bandleader) Daniel
(Duncan) has been a friend of mine for, I guess, seven or eight years
now. His style of writing has always inspired me and stuck melodies in
my head.

Q: How would you describe your music to, say, a friend's mother?
A: We're trying our best on an acoustic guitar and a cello.

Q: Will you have the cello guy with you?
A: Yes, absolutely. His name is James Waldo. He and I come from such
different directions. His classical background has left him unfamiliar
with music that has been highly influential to me, and allows him to
bring a variety of musical ideas separate from my own self-imposed
limitations. James doesn't think in verse-chorus-verse or in
traditional song structures. So we have a lot to learn from each other
and we're both so excited to learn.

Will Garrison and friends will play an all-ages show at the 930
Listening Room (www.the930.org), at 930 Mary St. in Germantown, on
Friday August 31st, at 8 pm. Tickets are $5.



c. 2007 LEO Weekly

"A Tribute to Joni Mitchell"

A Tribute to Joni Mitchell
(Nonesuch)

A well-compiled tribute to the music of Joni Mitchell is a welcome and necessary thing. To discuss her in full takes a book, or at least a well-lubed long night at a bar - issues of gender, race, nationality and psychology all become intertwined. This record merely hints at such themes, but helps spotlight her influence on some surprising artists.

Bjork - a fellow icy Northern country oddball who also paints her songs outside of the lines of pop music - makes "The Boho Dance" her own. Cassandra Wilson, Emmylou Harris and Elvis Costello demonstrate how much she freed them to also travel outside of their genre borders.
Brad Mehldau beautifully reminds the listener of her years spent playing with jazzbos. Caetano Veloso makes sense of the Afro-tribal drums that outpaced her in "Dreamland". Prince takes "A Case of You" and proceeds to melt panties and makes gay hearts flutter simultaneously. Sufjan Stevens misses his mark, but should at least give young hipsters a reason to examine her catalog.

C. 2007 LEO Weekly

Mark Olson

“Can you hold on a minute? Victoria is on the other line.”
It’s unclear which is more surprising — the fact that the musician on the phone assumes that I know about his personal life, or the fact that the musician is still friendly with the woman whom I, in fact, know to be his now ex-wife.

The musician, Mark Olson, is hardly a household name, though he has spent the last two decades accumulating fans around the world with a mature, heartfelt blend of folk, pop and rock music.
From 1986 through 1996, he led the Minneapolis-based band The Jayhawks with partner Gary Louris. On the way to gaining some minor radio play with the single “Blue,” The Jayhawks had become an unfortunate embodiment of the excesses of the major record companies. Expenses for recording albums and filming videos had put the band in debt for more than $1 million. Though Olson had been the main songwriter in the early days, Louris had become an equally strong leader, pushing the band in a poppier direction than Olson had envisioned.

Olson married singer-songwriter Victoria Williams, and the couple moved to the California town of Joshua Tree. “It’s gotten more commercialized, more strip malls, but in general, it’s still a very beautiful, more relaxed, small-town kind of place,” he says.

Williams had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. As they dealt with her health, Olson continued writing songs that were more folk-based than the increasingly Beach Boys-inspired, polished songs of The Jayhawks. While the Louris-led band continued on for three more albums, Olson and Williams formed a new band.

The Original Harmony Ridge Creekdippers found the Olsons joining collaborator Razz Russell. Cassettes appeared through mail order, and then CD issues signaled Olson’s return to the music business.
“I’ve had a bunch of other jobs — teaching, working with students with special needs — but, yes, I’m able to do this full-time, and I’m glad. I enjoy the technical aspects of playing with the instruments, tuning and finessing the strings.”

With more than seven releases, the collective formed a hub for the Palm Desert roots music scene. After he divorced Williams, Olson became unsure of what to do next. He found shelter from friends while traveling in Europe, like Jason Bourne with a guitar.

“My band now has friends of mine from all over. There are a lot of great people to work with over there.”
The album he came back with, The Salvation Blues, is his first true official album. Rather than give in to the unhappiness he had experienced, he wrote songs celebrating the struggle. Some people come here to die/We came here to live, he sings in “Clifton Bridge.” The formerly reclusive, 44-year-old Olson is back in sight, even filming a video that can be seen on his MySpace page. He has co-written with both Williams and Louris, and the former Jayhawks plan to spend 2008 writing and recording together.

Olson was here last month for WFPK’s Waterfront Wednesday. He returns for a show at the 930 Listening Room, at 930 Mary St. in Germantown, Saturday at 8 p.m., and earlier that day at ear X-tacy (1534 Bardstown Road, 452-1799) for a free in-store appearance and signing at 2 p.m.

c. 2007 LEO Weekly

Kentucky Prophet interview

Where do you live?
I live in Fordsville, Kentucky. A small town about a half hour south of Owensboro, which is the closest "big" city in Kentucky. I live in a trailer with a family member like all good white rappers.

What is the Hip Hop scene like there?
Fordsville is more of a bluegrass/country town. Every Friday night, they have music at the local community center. I'm the only rapper in town, so I have to travel to perform.

What do you think about the East Coast / West Coast wars? Do you think Biggie & Pac will ever stop fighting with each other?
I hate it when talented people die over something stupid as a turf war or something equally insignificant. Biggie & Pac are not fighting anymore. Rather, they are chillin' in Rap Heaven, where all beefs go to die with the rappers who carried them.

Whom inspired you to become a Hip Hop artist?
I would say Public Enemy, because their albums inspired me to create, but the real answer is rock music, because it got so awful that I wanted to listen to something else. At least, mainstream rock which was all I knew at the time. "They got no balls, they got no roots." - Frank Zappa, 1965.

Do you get a lot of groupies?
I have a few girls who really like me and the music, but no backstage sluts.

What do you like to do with women?
Beyond the typical clinical/glandular stuff any boy likes to do with a girl, I like simple stuff. Spending quality time with someone special, whether that's going out or staying in and listening to music.

You emphasize your physicality in live performances. Can you describe your body to our readers?
Well, for starters, I have what some Britishers might refer to as a "stylish pot", or a pot belly. Some people have six-packs, I got the full keg. I'm about 6'2" with medium-length brown hair and hazel eyes. I have legs like tree trunks and arms like cannons. My belly is as pronounced as that of the average 9-months-pregnant woman.

Do you think that you exploit yourself?
The subject of my weight is the elephant in the room, so I think it's best if I exploit it for laughs rather than some heckler.

Do you think you'd have the level of popularity that you've achieved if you weighed 300 pounds less?
I'd like to think so. There's a certain amount of entertainment in watching me make a spectacle out of myself, but deep down I think people enjoy the musical and comedic aspects of what I do.

Do you have a favorite Kool Keith line or verse?
The most obvious one is "keep it real, represent what? My nuts", but I also like "You drive a Dodge truck - I don't believe you."



c. 2007 Bejeezus Magazine

Dmonstrations

"Night Trrors, Schock!"

(GSL)

The truth about reviewing handfuls of CDs in a brief period of time is that after 1 or 2, said reviewer starts to realize how short life is. CDs begin to fall into 1 of 2 categories: 1) discs that immediately grab attention and never let up, and 2) Rhett Miller.

The incorrectly spelled Dmonstrations is the kind of band that makes you dance in your seat before you even realize that you are moving your cheese-filled American ass. And by dance, I'm referring to the Captain Beefheart, Pere Ubu, Boredoms type.

C. 2007 Bejeezus

John Denver

The Essential
(RCA/Legacy)

There’s absolutely no good reason for this collection to be released now. No, and especially not as a two-CD set. There’s nothing “freak” in his “folk” — for Devendra Banhart or Joanna Newsom to cover one of his songs wouldn’t be fun or kitschy, and besides, it just won’t happen.
I’m sure of only a few things in life — like, Barack Obama will not be elected president in ’08, but my love of fish tacos will continue to increase — and none of today’s fashionable musicians will pay any sort of tribute to John Denver anytime soon.

In fact, they already did seven years ago, when a tribute album was released featuring Louisville’s own Bonnie “Prince” Billy, among other independent spirits. Hey, I like John Denver pretty good (and this isn’t the first time I’ve been paid to mention that in print in the 21st century), but just like his fellow sweater-wearers Jimmy Carter and Mr. Rogers, you already have your opinion.

c. 2007 LEO Weekly

Ted Leo / Pharmacists

Living with the Living
(Touch & Go)

It pains me to have to report that this album, the fifth by the politically inspired, melodically punky Ted Leo, is not his best. By continuing to focus on war being bad and corrupt leaders being corrupt and all that, Leo seems to be going through the motions, lyrically, this go-round.
Musically, his usual reference points are there — from Springsteen to the Jam — but an attempt at reggae, “The Unwanted Things,” only brings to mind The Clash’s cover of Junior Murvin’s “Police and Thieves.” Another unwise use of falsetto propels the big ballad “The Toro and the Toreador,” which will sound eerily familiar to anyone who’s ever heard Jeff Buckley sing — and then rips off Big Star in the same song.

“Bomb.Repeat.Bomb” here doesn’t just sound like something Rage Against the Machine would do, it sounds like them, too.
Worst of all, the disc is broken up into 90 45-second bits.
So, if you’re making a mix for a girl named “Colleen,” good luck adding this song, Romeo.

C. 2007 LEO Weekly

Oldham's County

Cover Story

He's an acclaimed actor. He's Bonnie 'Prince' Billy. He's the best songwriter Louisville has ever produced. But who is Will Oldham, really?

You would not have to look far to find someone who believes Will Oldham is the most profound songwriter of his generation. Björk asked Oldham to open for her at the Hollywood Bowl. Johnny Cash asked him to join him for a cover of Oldham's song "I See a Darkness" on Cash's death-rattle of a final album. P.J. Harvey, Nick Cave and Charlie Louvin are admirers. His influence is everywhere and unmistakable: on alt-country bands steeped in the South, on the urban freak-folk scene that's all the rage and on lo-fi indie-rockers who find themselves pushed to poetry. There are even those who think he should have been nominated for an Oscar for his role in last year's acclaimed film Old Joy. This Sunday, the Louisville singer-songwriter will play the album "I See A Darkness," the instant classic he recorded as Bonnie "Prince" Billy, at Wild and Woolly Video's 10th anniversary party at Headliners.

It's a rare local appearance for a wayward genius who hides among us in plain sight, whose bald head and dirty blonde beard make him look like either a cherubic teen or a country grandfather, depending on the lighting. At times in concert, he augments his rural appearance with too much eye shadow. Once, I passed by him bicycling past Mid-City Mall wearing a pink, short-sleeved button-down shirt with short-shorts and flip-flops. He is very supportive of other musicians. He has contributed songs to locally released compilations. He sings songs by obscure English folkies and AC/DC. He is a fan of R. Kelly, and he is a fan of Merle Haggard. One thing he is not a fan of is explaining himself or his songs. Most interviews he has granted are painful to read; when the British newspaper the Guardian sent an award-winning music journalist to talk to him, Oldham did the interview while running errands in the Highlands. "I'm kinda busy," he told the writer as he checked his post office box.

So I was almost relieved when Oldham declined my interview request. (In its review of Old Joy, the Village Voice called Oldham "brilliantly annoying." Perhaps there's never been a truer two-word review.) I don't want to be the guy asking irritating questions about why he does what he does. And his obfuscation would take some of the fun out of wondering about how he makes his beautiful music. "He does represent the starting point for a whole generation of songwriters; he's the most popular and influential folk song writer of the '90s indie wave," said New York anti-folk musician Jeffrey Lewis, who was even moved to write a song about his idol, "Williamsburg Will Oldham Horror." "Even the recent 'freak folk' scene of Devendra Banhart, Joanna Newsom and Coco Rosie, etc., the idea of a weird-voiced folk singer who seemingly has 'outsider art' status while in actuality being a hip insider, all of this seems to have grown out of Will Oldham's influence."

A (reluctant) star is born

Will Oldham was born in Louisville on Dec. 24, 1970. As a youth, he trained as an actor, first at Walden Theatre, then at Actors Theatre of Louisville. At Actors, he auditioned for writer-director John Sayles, who put him in his movie Matewan. The script called for a Southern-fried teenaged Appalachian preacher - more country than any true Louisville boy, and a great opportunity for an actor. While his Brown School classmates were smoking their first joints, Oldham was co-starring with James Earl Jones. "He was a cute little crazy kid and obviously very talented," said James Roemer, the former general manager at Actors, now the administrative director of the Shakespeare Theatre in Washington, D.C. All that early success, however, didn't sell him on the craft. In an early indication of Oldham's discomfort with the machinery of celebrity, he grew frustrated with things like posing for headshots.

At 20, he dropped out of Brown University, bought a cheap guitar and landed in New York. On an album by a forgotten group called Box of Chocolates, his distinctive, surprisingly pretty voice can be heard in its early stages, though no one noticed at the time. So Oldham returned to Louisville, where the guys he had gone to school with were building one of the 1990s' most exciting indie-rock scenes. It was Oldham who shot the photo of Slint swimming that appears on the band's classic 1991 album Spiderland, an image that would be recreated years later for the "New Slang" video by seemingly everyone's favorite new band, the Shins. The born performer almost fell into the indie rock world, where he made an impression even before he started recording. "I have a real strong memory of seeing Matewan, and I thought Will was great," said director Phil Morrison, who lured Oldham back to the movies with a bit part in the 2005 indie sleeper Junebug. "Back then, movies were this other province. Even an indie movie like Matewan was from a bigger, more glamorous place. So to go to CBGB to see Rapeman, or whatever Steve Albini was doing at that moment, and see the kid from Matewan get on stage and, in my recollection, fart into a microphone, well, that was bananas."



Spontaneous greatness

Still in his early 20s, at that delicate point where those prone to breakdowns begin to fall apart, Oldham lost the plot. He retreated to his brother Paul's home in Virginia. There he began writing the songs that would make up his first album. One could've assumed at the time that Oldham might have attempted an adventurous rock record like his friends in Slint or his heroes like Albini, the studio guru behind some of the most admired albums of the last decade. But that would mean underestimating the general oddness of Louisville. Like Ethan Buckler, who left Slint for the absurdist faux-blues of King Kong, Oldham went away from rock. With his first record, There Is No-One What Will Take Care of You, he made a very rural declaration. Teamed with Slint bassist Todd Brashear (now the owner of Wild and Woolly), a yelping Oldham used banjoes to fill in spaces where electric guitars and synthesizers might go. He sang about family, about good and evil, about drink and the Devil. He also began challenging audiences. He claimed Washington Phillips' '20s blues song "I Had a Good Mother and Father" as his own, as he had with his first single, "Ohio River Boat Song," a localized re-write of the Scottish folk song "Loch Tay Boat Song" with new lyrics referring to his home (Floyds Knobs, Smoketown, Oldham County).

He also challenges basic notions of family, as his band name - the Palace Brothers - referred not to actual brothers, but rather to whomever was playing in his band at the moment, which changed almost constantly. "(He) chooses the people he's going to play with shortly before the session, so everyone is playing by the seat of their pants, and the music is at constant risk, subject to the weaknesses of whoever's in the room," said Albini, who recorded many of Oldham's best albums, including Palace's Viva Last Blues and Arise Therefore. "But he gets absolutely spontaneous moments of greatness you couldn't rehearse."

A constant chameleon

Like Bob Dylan, Oldham continues to re-interpret not only folk songs but also his own songs. In recent years, he released his first live album, Summer in the Southeast, which featured surprising versions of his songs, as well as Bonnie 'Prince' Billy Sings Greatest Palace Music, on which he re-recorded lo-fi '90s Palace Brothers songs backed by slick Nashville studio veterans. "Playing with him has always been an extraordinarily loose and fun experience," said Louisville guitarist Dave Bird, who has played with Oldham off and on. "Will puts a lot of trust in the folks he's playing with, and that's generally the way I like to roll as well."

Oldham continues to surprise. Critics who pigeonholed him as a bluegrass-infused type after his first album were forced to come up with a new explanation when he followed up with a solo acoustic record. Later records were filled with pianos, then (relatively) harder rock. His breakthrough album came in 1999. Released under yet another moniker - Bonnie "Prince" Billy - I See A Darkness caught the attention of famed producer Rick Rubin, who included the title song on a tape he sent to Johnny Cash. Cash invited Oldham to sing it with him on what would end up being one of Cash's last studio albums. "He has a great voice - very identifiable," said country legend Charlie Louvin, who invited Oldham to sing "Knoxville Girl" with him on his new album of duets. "If you ever heard him one time, you would pick him out of anything he'd done. That's a great asset for anybody to have - don't just sound like everybody else that they've heard."

Still keeping his distance

In 2002, Oldham told England's Guardian Unlimited that he does not want "a personal relationship with my fans. Or to do anything that encourages them to think they have one with me. They can have a personal relationship with my songs. That's fine, but they don't know me." And at one point in Old Joy, Oldham tells a friend, "I'm at a whole new place now, really." It looks like he's actually been in the same place for a long time. By shifting personas and styles so effectively, he's turned reinvention into an art form on darkly revealing albums that nevertheless reveal little about the man behind them. And the more you talk to his friends and those who have worked with him, the more the mystery remains. Even people who have gotten to know Oldham can't really explain him. But then again, we all have friends like that. Morrison, the movie director, struggles to reconcile the Oldham he calls "surprisingly regular" with the inscrutable performer who is constantly changing his stage name and sometimes sings covers of Mariah Carey songs. "It's classic Will - everything I say about him, I have to throw in some contradictory caveat," Morrison said. "That's entertaining and interesting. What's funny is how balled up we all can get over it. What do you mean? What's the truth about you? It makes people mad."

c. 2007 Velocity Weekly

Boz Scaggs

"Silk Degrees"
(Columbia)

Somewhere in the sweaty chest hair of the nadir of the ’70s, there was a most moist and sleazy sound where pop, disco and jazz met. My friend Savoir Faire used to call it "Jacuzzi Jazz." I believe the kids today refer to it as "Yacht Rock." This movement provided a soundtrack for men and women who got together in hot tubs to drink wine coolers, inhale cocaine and have orgies.



Boz Scaggs hit his artistic peak — at which point, it must be noted, he still sucked — around 1976’s Silk Degrees, a flaccid mixture of Philly disco and Southern roadhouse rock. A former member of the Steve Miller Band who’s presumably trying to sound like Otis Redding via Eddie Hinton, one can assume that this is a comedy record and not necessarily be wrong. It could’ve
been worse — his name could’ve been Scoz Baggs.

c. 2007 LEO Weekly

!!!

Myth Takes
(Warp)

opening - cinematic - Massive Attack meets Morricone.

"All My Heroes Are Weirdos" -
very largely indebted to '80's Clash and Gang of Four, ESG and
Blondie; they try to fix the Clash (capturing the best elements of the
beating-on-trash-can rhythms, the thickly plucked peak funk and
post-punk guitars and bass; stylized and stylish if too
fashion-conscious vocals which betray deeply middle-class Western
roots) while not repeating the mistakes (i..e., sides of "Sandanista")

"Must Be the Moon" –
phone call and response, implied cowbell.
sense of urgency - tightened, if not focused.

"A New Name" and "Heart of Hearts" –
Miami sweaty disco diva.



"Sweet Life" - Meters in Nigeria chicken scratch riffs 'n' grooves,
lots of letters (musical notes?)
post-Beck falsetto.

"Yadnus" -
implied industrial sounds / subway car.
T. Rex crashes car into John Barry James Bond theme.

"Bend Over Beethoven" –
Is this a different song? For realz?

"Break in Case of Anything" –
Breakin' 3: Electric Dub Vegas.

"Infinifold" -
end credits. Grab yr jacket and toss your popcorn bag.

C. 2007 LEO Weekly

Entrance

Prayer of Death
(Tee Pee)

Young, middle-class whites have been taking the music of their darker-skinned favorites and selling it back to other young, middle-class whites for many years. From Led Zeppelin to the White Stripes, we keep falling for it. This week, they call themselves Entrance.
"Prayer of Death" tries too hard to utilize the heavy sounds of Led Zeppelin without repeating the cliches that have ruined many metal bands. From Zeppelin, Entrance (primarily singer-songwriter Guy Blakeslee) also derive third-hand inspiration from authentic, exotic music such as Indian ragas. Indeed, songs like "Requiem for Sandy Bull (R.I.P.)" seem to exist primarily to prove how awesome his obscure record collection is.

Blakeslee's reluctance to just sing - without cracking his voice to prove how "real" he is - is unfortunate. The most captivating song on this record, the title song, works exceedingly well when he's singing but less so when he's wavering. Someone should tell dude that we're not going to believe that you're an 82-year-old sharecropper, so maybe just relax and play it right.

Karling Abbeygate

Karling Abbeygate
(Dionysus Records)

When someone tells a joke at a party and it falls flat, it's a painful experience for the joker and for their audience. When someone makes a joke of an album but gets to avoid seeing the discomfort and annoyance on the face of the audience, it's even sadder.
English lass Karling Abbeygate fancies herself to be a honkey tonk singer tucked conveniently between the saucy sass of Wanda Jackson and the silky sadness of Patsy Cline. A former model who isn't much to look at, but poses in her album photos as undressed as Tara Reid in Ibiza, Abbeygate might fool the casual listener but wouldn't last very long at Robert's Western Wear in Nashville. Her singing reminds one of Tammy Faye Messner's speaking voice.



Most disappointing is that her L.A.-based band, led by veteran lounge bandleader Joey Altruda, is crisp and adept. While laying down the foundation for a torch singer in a Best Western in Boise isn't the worst gig a band could get, they deserve a singer who doesn't sound like Betty Boop at karaoke, too tired from her office job to offer a performance worth paying attention to for more than ten seconds.

The Pennies

10,000 Things
(ear X-tacy Records)

For a band that broke up 4 years ago, The Pennies are releasing one of the freshest, most vibrant records in recent memory.
The purposefully, dreamily, zanily off-kilter pop/rock band flaunted plenty of wicked riffs and killer hooks on their first album, 1999's Come, We Go. Fans of the Flaming Lips, who marveled at their growth, will find themselves in similar territory here.



They could still kick out a Pixies-style rave-up like "Where Crows Attack" (smartly aided by Liberation Prophecy's Jacob Duncan praying at the church of Albert Ayler) and sci-fi Krautrock, but score even more impressively with some percussive ballads structured and textured in the later style of a Grandaddy or Mercury Rev. Strings, horns and keyboards expand the songs out of the nightclub and onto the stage, revealing a composer equally familiar with Sondheim and Sonic Youth. Bandleader Jeremy Podgursky and his then-colleagues did what few
accomplish - his compositions and performances go beyond rock 'n' roll and leap out of the speakers, flying away with wonder and excitement and the question of what is and what could have been...

c. 2006 LEO Weekly

Jamie Barnes

The Recalibrated Heart
(Pink Bullet Recordings)

In this city of hundreds of thousands of people, there are only a handful of troubadours. Like most cities, many of our few are loud, brutish and lacking in skill. Jamie Barnes sticks out for the grace and beauty he is able to draw on to seduce an audience.
In his third album, Barnes sticks to his established practice of recording himself at home, performing most of the instruments himself. Though he shares this practice with Stevie Wonder, the similarity ends there. Musically, he has more in common with Sufjan Stevens, another indie folk singer-songwriter whose angelic voice owes its inspiration to a kind, loving religious grounding.



Barnes performs with confidence, seamlessly melding etheral harmonies and folk guitars with more offbeat percussion instruments. Barnes address religious stories and characters more directly than ever before, a move that should further help set him apart from his peers, hopefully without alienating any of his early fans. His songs of angels and devils, Heaven and Hell, have more in common with Johnny Cash than Jimmy Swaggart. And if you forget where else he came from, there's even a song about R.E.M. (which, itself, is more about love, family and the value of life).

c. 2006 LEO Weekly

reviews

The A-Sides
"Hello, Hello" (Prison Jazz)
60's psychedelia pop for fans of The Shins (or, originally, The Beach
Boys, The Kinks and The Who). The harmonies are rich, the riffs solid
- the songs are there. Recommended.

Barbez
"Insignificance" (Important)
Eastern European Gypsy folk rock. For those of us who are fans of the
Pogues and Faun Fables but who aren't annoying, gross hippies.

Goblin Cock
"Bagged and Boarded" (Absolutely Kosher)
Exactly what you'd expect from a dude from Pinback making a Black
Sabbath record.

Gogol Bordello
"Gyspy Punks: Undetrdog World Strike" (SideOneDummy)
They have a song called "Think Locally, Fuck Globally". They are to
gypsy punks what Sublime was to '60's Jamaican ska. One word:
Chumbawumba. I bet they wear "funny" costumes onstage. Hey dudes,
y'know, it IS possible to go down the pub, raise a pitcher and put
your arm around your best mate without having to make lousy music
about the experience.

Linda Draper
"One Two Three Four" (Planting Seeds)
A very tasteful, pretty record of lovely songs. Draper is more upbeat
than Hope Sandoval but more restrained than Neko Case, more poppy than
Julie Doiron but calmer than Mirah. Produced by, surprisingly, Kramer
(ex-Bongwater, Butthole Surfers). A nice surprise. Highly recommended.

Longwave
"There's a Fire" (RCA)
This music is so earnest, sensitive and joyless, it can, literally,
only be heard by teens writing in their Live Journals. Literally.

The Makers
"Everybody Rise!" (Kill Rock Stars)
With production by Jack Endino, an architect of grunge, I expected
something in the AC/DC-garage rock mode. I didn't expect Sunset Strip
hair metal 1986, especially on the once-unimpeachable Kill Rock Stars.
That's it, I'm retiring.

Moggs
"The White Belt Is Not Enough" (Absolutely Kosher)
The title - and the photo of this duo, dressed mostly in white - would
suggest a too-cool hipster dance party. For better or worse, the music
is actually closer to the post-punk of Joy Division or early Sonic
Youth, an icier Quasi. Recommended.

M.O.T.O.
"Raw Power" (Criminal IQ)
Yes, I know that this is supposed to be a joke - a dumber Ramones -
but it's just not that funny. Songs like "Gonna Get Drunk Tonight" and
"Spend the Night on Me" were done better by Poison or Whitesnake, who
at least were trying to get girls with their bad music.

Sybris
"Sybris" (Flameshovel)
Now this, this one here, this is a headscratcher. This group sounds
100% like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, only with less energy and a lesser
grasp of song structure. I just don't understand why this exists.

Voltage
"Building the Bass Castle, Vol. 1" (Flameshovel)
Decently pleasant instrumental duo - guitar and drums - from Chicago.
Good background music, poorly recorded. I'd bet that they've listened
to some Slint or the Minutemen, and that they missed the points each
time.

c. 2006 Bejeezus

Spin 101 June '06

Thursdays
DJ Sam Sneed
North End Cafe
502-896-8770
Free; www.northendcafe.com
Louisville scenesters put on their dancing shoes for this decadent party, with Sneed playing Britpop, dance punk, and much more. Get your hair did!
***



Mondays
Acoustic Love Series
Red Lounge
502-896-6116
$3; www.theredlounge.com
An intimate night of series (like Tara Jane O'Neil or Freakwater's Catherine Irwin) playing on a couch in this converted gas station.
***

c. 2006 Spin

Spin 101 May '06

May 26
Global Grease with Kim Sorise
North End Cafe
Free; www.northendcafe.com
Expect sexy '60's and '70's French seduction pop, Italian soundtrack sleaze, Brazilian baby-makin', and mas y mas.
****

May 27
Last Saturday
Keswick Democratic Club
$6; www.lastsaturday.net
Auxiliary Records hosts a monthly, all-ages series of hardcore shows with bands such as Young Widows, Paint It Black and Pissed Jeans.
***

c. 2006 Spin

Tortoise & Bonnie "Prince" Billy

Tortoise & Bonnie 'Prince' Billy
"The Brave and the Bold"
(Overcoat)

Why people think that a duet between 2 idiosyncratic musical talents will be great, maybe twice as good as each artist alone, continues to stump me. I wish that I could forget about Paul McCartney & Stevie Wonder's "Ebony & Ivory".
The main problem with this collaboration – and most - is that both artists have to mute their finest qualities in order to meet halfway. Tortoise, best when challenging each other to stretch as far as possible while still holding together, here is reduced to a pop studio backing band. Oldham is at his best at his most alone. He is beloved for his most quiet singing, framing lyrics that can be poetic,
perverse, purposefully misleading. His bands twist and turn when they do, when they can, not when they're supposed to.



Oldham can be an interesting interpreter, but some of the songs here (Don Williams' painfully goofy "Pancho", Devo's "That's Pep!") don't deserve serious revitalizing. The post-punk bands that have informed both artists prove that Oldham was never meant to be a loud rock singer, and that Tortoise was never meant to play straightahead. Both are best when they make the music serve them; here, the opposite is forced upon them.

c. 2006 LEO Weekly

Top Five in '05

1. "Twin Cinema," the New Pornographers — The best pop/rock album of the year. Fun, sexy and bold. Adults — Canadians, even — act as playful as 2-year-olds, with melodies worthy of the best Broadway shows, Nashville dives and high school mixers.


2. "Lookaftering," Vashti Bunyan — The fun part of these end-of-the year lists is in realizing trends and patterns. Of my five favorites this year, three are by women at different ages. Bunyan returned to music after 35 years away, with this timeless collection of folk songs.


3. "Ex Hex," Mary Timony — Timony picked up her guitar again, rocking out harder than any other 30-something, despite realizing that she'll probably never sell a million, or even 50,000 records. This is music made by someone, for herself, because she loves it and has to.


4. "Vertically Challenged," Lady Sovereign — Miss Lady is hard to discuss without the obligatory mentions of her being a white, British, 19-year-old girl. She's also Jay-Z's new favorite and the toughest, funniest rapper today, reminiscent at times of Eminem and Missy Elliott but with more futuristic beats.


5. "Buena Vista Social Club Presents," Manuel "El Guajiro" Mirabal — Another old Cuban master, trumpeter Guajiro has so much energy left that you'll have no choice but to shake that healthy butt.

2005 didn't suck as bad as we thought!

When people ask why I’ve moved to Louisville — twice — from bigger cities, I explain that, partly, it’s because of the local music universe. I say “universe” because “scene” is such a small, juvenile word for something so beautiful and weird.

Slint and My Morning Jacket were the highlights for me this year. Even in a town that loves to shout jokes and insults at anyone whose head might get too big, the skill and passion in each — especially Slint drummer Britt Walford and Jacket singer Jim James — was undeniable and thrilling.

In the clubs, Lucky Pineapple delighted with their inventive, exciting blend of styles and rhythms. Joe Manning stunned with his amazing voice and lyrics that are already being taught in universities and bars.

Others that always delivered include a.m. Sunday, Ayin, Elephant Micah, Jamie Barnes, The Photographic, Rachel's, Ronnie Mack and the I'll Beat Your Back Out Band, Scott Carney, Sean Garrison & the Five Finger Discount, Shipping News, Verktum and Your Black Star.
Freakwater finally returned. The Children are missed. Dick Sisto, Harry Pickens and Todd Hildreth fed my love of jazz piano. Tanita Gaines gave me the blues, and I thank her.

2006 promises new records by Follow the Train, Johnny Berry and the Outliers, Liberation Prophecy, The Merediths, Sapat and Second Story Man, plus the lost Pennies album!

There’s not enough space to write about each, or about two dozen other excellent groups. Go see and hear them all, as often as possible. There’s a universe happening here.

c. 2005 LEO Weekly

Which Christmas records suck this year?

This is the season that never ends (it goes on and on, my friend)

Christmas never ends, even for those for whom it never begins. Although the monsoon of pointless gift offerings only saturates every inch of the Western world for two long, dreary months, in this essay I will focus my adorable rage on a handful of compact discs that you really shouldn’t buy, consider buying or … actually, don’t even read this. I get paid either way.

So much is asked of your attention these days, I ask — nay, beg — as a citizen of this great nation, as a seeker of truth and justice who loves our freedoms and salutes all those who have given of themselves so that you may fight over Beanie Babies or whatever else your kid will have forgotten about two months from now, I beg of you, please stop reading this now and go spread peace and love to your family, friends and pizza delivery guy. (The latter only applies if you’re a stoner, porn actor or both.)

The history of Christmas music is very long, and even longer if one focuses on all the misguided attempts to cash in on the American public’s shockingly consistent habit of buying annoying, phoned-in records that sound no better than the others already bought over the years.

Out of all of the embarrassments brought on by Christmas music, there are at least two types that are at the top of the bottom of the barrel: Jewish entertainers (Neil, Barbra, Barry, et al.) chasing after the same holiday dollars while celebrating a different holiday, all the while downplaying their own culture and beliefs and doing nothing (worse than nothing, actually) to educate and entertain people with their own catchy-but-tired anthems.

Then there’s the good, the talented, the inspired music makers who can do better — who only do better — slumming, either for what they perceive as a quick buck, or to announce that they are so established that they pretty much have to make a lame, pointless Christmas record that adds absolutely nothing new to the genre. What’s your favorite James Brown record? Ernest Tubb? Low? I didn’t think so.
Let’s get to some of what makes each of this year’s crop suck, individually:


The Brian Setzer Orchestra: Dig That Crazy Christmas CD/“Christmas Extravaganza” DVD (Surfdog)
If there’s one musician who makes me earn my pay, it’s Brian Setzer. Though I might say you couldn’t pay me to listen to his so very incredibly annoying shtick, I like getting a chance to remind potentially thousands of readers about just how unenjoyable his existence on this planet is. What Jim Belushi has contributed to comedy, Setzer has given to music. As a guitarist, he has a distinctive tone and his playing has improved over the years (how could it not?), but his Johnny Rockets/“Happy Days” retro show apologizes for every lazy, mediocre, safe aspect of modern life. Only Rupert Murdoch might be able to enjoy something so soulless.


Diana Krall: Christmas Songs (Verve)
Goodness, some targets are just so easy to hit it’s hardly worth it. Diana Krall’s main albums are already, basically, the literal embodiment of what’s wrong with Christmas records: tasteful, predictable, soothing to the point of numbness. Even the name of her Christmas songs album is uninspired. She’s been blessed with a deep, smoky voice (the voice that Joni Mitchell had to smoke for 40 years to earn), and has solid taste in collaborators (here she’s backed by the ever-solid Clayton-Hamilton Jazz Orchestra). While there isn’t much bad about Krall’s music, there isn’t anything great about it, and that’s terrible.


Marah: A Christmas Kind of Town (Yep Rock)
This generic bar band is best known for sounding so much like a band that sounds like a mid-1990s Bruce Springsteen record performed with late-’80s Springsteen energy, or alternately as a favorite of middle-aged pop critics who lost touch many years ago. This falls into the category of bands announcing their arrival, but it’s a premature announcement. Smartly, the band has made one of the shorter Christmas records around. I was even starting to get used to how much time I was wasting listening to it when it ended. While a handful of songs benefit from a melding of Polka beats and Celtic-punk rhythms — and isn’t that what you’re looking for this holiday season? — the rest is about as interesting as watching golf on TV on a pretty day.


New Grange: A Christmas Heritage (Compass)
Joining Diana Krall in the Starbucks-ready pile is this collection of talents for whom traditional bluegrass is too intense, but who lack enough imagination to improve upon it (including Darol Anger, Alison Brown, Tim O’Brien and more). It’s all very polite and competent, but fades into the background within seconds.


Umixit: U-Sing-It Christmas (Webster Hall NYC)
Finally, one disc that offers something: Load this into your computer, and use it as a karaoke disc! Now that’s fun for your whole talentless family!


Various: Taste of Christmas (War Content)
You know how teens can be really grating? Dumb, loud, completely self-absorbed? Not the cool ones, the ones with brains and potential — no, I just mean most of them. Imagine the most moronic of the lot trying out Christmas songs — Funeral for a Friend, Skindred, The Used, etc. This is just inexcusable.

Finally, I’m here to remind you that there’s only one Christmas record worth buying and worth listening to. Bing Crosby? If you must. Nat King Cole? Possibly. No, I’m talking about Vince Guaraldi’s "A Charlie Brown Christmas". If you know someone who doesn’t have one yet (deaf? foreigner? deaf foreigner?), be a friend, indeed. Spread peace and joy this holiday by giving them the only CD they’ll need to get through this, the most obnoxious time of year.


c. 2005 LEO Weekly

Bear Vs. Shark

Terrorhawk
(Equal Vision)

In the painful movie New York Minute, one of the Olsen Twins (the one who’s now sniffing away her fortune, not the one who’s dating a different greasy older guy every week) winds up at one of those MTV-coordinated concerts featuring some loser “punk” band (if not the one whose singer is dating Hillary Duff, then one whose singer should be).

That’s what came to mind as I forced myself to listen to this pablum.

In the wake of Nirvana’s success, I realized that their success was not breeding 15 more bands as good as them. No, instead it was breeding 15 terrible bands who tried to summon their spirit without understanding where the inspiration came from. Stone Temple Pilots, they’re elegant bachelors. Bush… Silverchair…



The pointless, pubescent whining of Bear Vs. Shark probably sounds fresh to a 15-year-old. This is the kind of music made by bored suburban boys. Not the ones who are anguished over the cruel nature of life, just the ones who feel like they don’t get enough attention from their parents.

Song titles include “I Fucked Your Dad” and “Rich People Say Fuck Yeah Hey Hey”.

c. 2005 LEO Weekly

Woody's Tavern

Address: 208 E. Burnett Ave. (at Brook), Old Louisville.

Small print: Open daily, 4 p.m. to 4 a.m.

Why you should go: If you've been driving through Old Louisville, seen the Woody Woodpecker cartoon sign outside and wondered what product was being sold, come on in. You might think it's a comic-book shop, or perhaps some other fun place.

It is, but it's fun for those 21 and over. Woody's Tavern is a place for like-minded adults to meet and get to know one another better over a few cold ones.

The bar was previously known as a rowdy offshoot of the neighboring Mag Bar, but it has been reborn. Too much rock ‘n‘ roll attitude has been replaced by a cleaner, more sedate and fabulous bar for men who would rather kiss other men than fight them.



PHOTOS BY DAVID P. HARPE

The live music has been replaced by extra pool tables, a fine opportunity to observe a new partner in motion. The carpet looks brand new, a bit of a shock initially but a welcome improvement.

"I would feel safer passing out here now than I would have before," slurred my drunken companion Hazel.

(I didn't go to Woody's with Hazel and Sally just to assert my own orientation, but it was nice to be able to socialize with female friends who weren't being ogled by anyone besides me.)

The drinks are reasonably priced and well-made. The service is prompt and friendly, and occasionally lacking in clothing.

The jukebox has been predictably overhauled; gone is the raucous underground rock music, replaced by Mariah and Cher and, well, you get the idea.

Bottom line: The best feature is the back patio area, retained from the previous incarnation and spiffed up with some very Miami-lookin' plant life. This fall, it should be a comfortable place to drink, talk and hear songs such as "You Sexy Thing" and "One Night in Bangkok."

Bejeezus 7 micro reviews

Alexander Hacke
“Sanctuary” (Kool Arrow)
Middle-aged German men shouldn’t try to make sound collages or industrial music, it’s way too expected of them. I bet he wears leather chaps when he goes to the ATM or when he pick up a pizza.

Boyracer
“Happenstance” (Happy Happy Birthday to Me)
More fast, short, sweet English indie punk pop from Boyracer. More Heavenly than The Fall. More Blur than Suede. Very Very English.

The Channel
“Personalized” (C-Side)
These guys are named Brent Pennington and Colby Pennington. That’s gotta be the preppiest thing I’ve ever heard. Wait, they cover Will Oldham’s “Black”? Maybe I should listen to this.
Well, here we are again. I’m reminded of a scene on BEAVIS AND BUTT-HEAD when the boys are stunned by the completely average competency of the video they’re watching. Unable to come up with anything especially harsh or praiseworthy to say, they mumble a bit before getting up to do something else.
Oh, and then their version of “Black” suggests that they lack any depth or understanding of life whatsoever.

Crystal Skulls
“Blocked Numbers” (Suicide Squeeze)
Crystal Skulls is all about immediately catchy, mid-tempo indie rock a la The Shins, and also some of the best early ‘80’s pop, like Men at Work. I’ve listened to this over and over again. They are so much more impressive than many other current baby bands simply because they’re not trying too hard to impress. Highly recommended if you enjoy music.

Del Cielo
“Us Vs. Them” (Lovitt)
Oh boy. They’re a bit slick. Corporate rock still sucks. The singer can’t sing very well. This would’ve been on a major label in 1993. Uh, did I mention that they have a song called “Joe Goth”?

DMBQ
“The Essential Sounds from the Far East” (Estrus)
Not NRBQ, and thankfully not anything to do with Dave Matthews. This, the Dynamite Masters Blues Quartet, is classic ‘70’s rock played by 2004 Japanese guys. It’s pretty good. Not too noisy, not too generic, but ultimately not too interesting. This would sound pretty good in the background at a mildly enjoyable party.

French Toast
“In a Cave” (Dischord)
Jimmy Canty of The Make-Up and Jerry Busher of Fugazi. Together they are French Toast. Together they are obviously still deeply in love with early ‘80’s post-punk: The Wipers, Devo, Joy Division, Mission of Burma… It gets softer and more modern indie along the way – light, airy keyboards, warm emotive vocals. Hopefully they’ll perfect the balance next time out. Oh, and there’s a D.C. dub groove thrown in, just in case you forgot about their Fugazi associations. Recommended.

Goon Moon
“I Got a Brand New Egg Layin’ Machine” (Suicide Squeeze)
Get yr head around this one: Twiggy Ramirez of Marilyn Mason, Zach Hill of Hella, and QOTSA producer and Masters of Reality leader Chris Goss… The good news is that Hella’s kookily inventive instrumental assault wins out over the bloated cock rock of Mr. Ramirez and the subtler cock rock of Mr. Goss. It was good at first until the Kraftwerk-ish piece with the vocoder voices chanting, “Rock weird, weird rock.” Yeah, thanks, dudes, I didn’t get it until you pointed it out to me. And then the next one is about mashed potatoes and cream. The best thing Frank Zappa ever did wasn’t music, it was dying.

Guapo
“Black Oni” (Ipecac)
The ‘70’s ponytail prog sounds of King Crimson, Yes, etc. played with modern aggression. Also a very good soundtrack for a psychological thriller movie. Good to drive to.



Hanin Elias
“Future Noir” (Fatal)
A Marianne Faithfull for the Digital Hardcore generation, Hanin Elias has grown beyond her early association with Atari Teenage Riot and is beginning to emerge as a promising singer/songwriter, part PJ Harvey but still part dated trip-hop singer. This is what Jennifer Connelly’s character is DARK CITY should’ve sounded like. Still, I can’t really recommend this one.

The Jessica Fletchers
“Less Sophistication” (Rainbow Quartz)
Good but derivative. Midwestern power pop (Cheap Trick with only 1 testicle) / late 60’s British Invasion pop; oft-bouncy, perfectly enjoyable sunny summer fun time music. Probably wouldn’t be so easy to typecast if the singer wasn’t a nasally, trying-to-be-John-Lennon type. I guess I’d recommend it if there weren’t dozens of better versions of this stuff already available.
Oh, and thanks for lowering the bar on band names, guys. That’s gotta be the lamest ‘80’s reference yet.

Lydia Lunch
“Smoke in the Shadows” (Atavistic)
It’s shocking, just how terrible this is. This might be the worst record ever made. Imagine if your grandmother thought she was Raymond Chandler and Miles Davis at the same time. Then imagine her rapping.

Mixel Pixel
“Contact Kid” (Kanine)
This is some pretty nice bedroom indie pop/rock. Not much more to say about it – fuzzy guitars, dashes of keyboards, dude sounds like he’s around 22. I like Pavement, too.

The Paper Chase
“God Bless Your Black Heart” (Kill Rock Stars)
Shit sandwich.

Pit Er Pat
“Shakey” (Thrill Jockey)
This keyboard-driven pop band, which only owes every moment of their existence to Blonde Redhead, had the good sense to name their record properly. Due to the prominence of the keyboards and the lack of a guitar, this made me feel like I was on a ship, and I needed to drink something pink to make my tummy feel better.

The Sharp Ease
“Going Modern” (olfactory / Soft Spot)
Only the debut record by the best band in L.A. (Not that there’s a lot of competition). They’re young and female, they’re smart and bratty and know what they’re doing. The record doesn’t capture the crazy chaos of their frenetic live shows, but instead highlights their surprisingly poppy songwriting skills and tight-knit rock telepathy. It’s not the huge leap that the Germs accomplished with “G.I.”, but I hope 25 years from now people will still be listening to The Sharp Ease.

Some Girls
“The DNA Will Have Its Say” (Three.One.G)
San Diego spazz noise rock. 7 songs in 7 minutes. The vocals are shouty like hardcore but I bet they all have stylish haircuts.

Z’s
“Karate Bump” EP (Planaria)
Free Jazz.
Either you live for it or it’ll bug you.

Bulldog Cafe

Address: Bulldog Cafe, 10619 W. Manslick Road, Fairdale.

Small print: Generally open Mondays through Thursdays from 5 until 11 p.m. or so, with bluegrass jam sessions on Mondays and Thursdays and country music on Wednesdays.

Why you should go: Fans of Christopher Guest's movies need to be targeted by the organizers of the Bulldog Cafe's bluegrass nights. Authentic folk music, as depicted in Guest's movie "A Mighty Wind," is intertwined here with unique characters.

On a recent Monday night I had the pleasure of meeting a man cradling his tiny white dog, a la Paris Hilton.

My fellow music lover and drinker, Sally, complimented the tiny white dog. This led to a lengthy monologue on the subject of dog shows (as seen in Guest's movie "Best in Show").


PHOTO BY CHRIS HALL



The musicians were indeed friendly and welcoming, and shifted from old mountain songs to baby boomer favorites like the Beatles and Queen ("Fat Bottomed Girls" is even better played by men with white hair on acoustic instruments, if you didn't already know).

I have good reason to suspect that they began performing pop songs to please Sally, a younger woman.

Occasionally, the venue is host to loud rock concerts. A weekly goth night ended after a very brief run; it's not really that sort of neighborhood, you see.

The room is big and smells of many nights of drinkin', smokin' and rockin' (though smokin' is no longer permitted inside).

The video games haven't been updated in 20-some years, and if you're looking for a drink that isn't a beer -- well, I already told you it's not that sort of neighborhood. Did you forget already?

Bottom line: Beer, music, friends … what are you waiting for? A written invitation? Well, here it is. Fairdale's just around the corner. You tell me a better way to spend a Monday night.

South San Gabriel

"The Carlton Chronicles: Not Until the Operation's Through"
(Misra)

I thought I liked this record, but now that I've had to think about what I want to tell you righteous people about "The Carlton Chronicles: Not Until the Operation's Through," I think that I don't. How sad.

"The Carlton Chronicles" is a concept record. About a sick cat. I like cats. Concept records ... not too often. At least the cat doesn't play pinball.

South San Gabriel, the more-popular-in-Europe spinoff group from shambling Texas indie rockers Centro-matic, fuses aspects of quiet folk/Americana strumming with the even slower atmospheric textures of bands like Low and Codeine, bands whose names at least tell you what you're getting into.



Though South San Gabriel is still playing in the indie leagues, one of the songs ("The Dark of Garage") suddenly breaks out into an electro-pop beat reminiscent of the Postal Service. The whole thing smacks of a bossman begging them to come up with "a hit, just gimme a single I can work at radio!"

Then there's "Stupid Is As Stupid Does," the title of which will be familiar to anyone who's seen "Forrest Gump." This whole record is such a tragically bad idea that it might sound like a classic 30 years from now. If that happens, we'll enjoy it then.

South San Gabriel made a record a couple of years ago called "Welcome, Convalescence." It's real pretty. Skip this one; this cat doesn't need you.

Twista / Nappy Roots

The possibilities and the realities of mainstream America were on display Friday night at the state fair.

While Wonder Bread poster teen Hilary Duff was at Freedom Hall, proving that cartoons can sometimes come to life, Twista and Nappy Roots came to Cardinal Stadium to show what can happen when hard work is applied to basic, occasionally inspired talent.

Nappy Roots, the pride of Bowling Green's hip-hop community, hit the stage after a stirring introduction -- which had to be repeated after they comically missed their cue.

They almost didn't need music. Between consistent shout-outs to Kentucky and especially Louisville, one might think that they were natives of Louisville instead of Bowling Green.Nappy Roots worked hard at being the most popular guys at the block party. While Twista sold himself as a benevolent "classic pimp," Nappy Roots were confident enough to just be real.

When you've got a handsome R. Prophet in a cowboy hat, taking off his shirt to reveal a muscular chest, dripping with sweat in near 100-degree temperatures, the ladies don't care what song you're playing.

If, at the same time, you've got the heaviest member of the group, Big V, taking off one of his dripping shirts, assuring the male portion of the audience that they're not in such bad shape after all… well, we can all relax.

Their stage show was well-paced, though occasionally contradictory. Some tunes seemed to require the type of choreography usually seen performed by pop boy bands, while others required random wandering.

A freestyle portion of the show, seemingly well-scripted, served mostly to highlight the abilities of the preppily attired Skinny DeVille, the most likely candidate for solo stardom.

The rousing song "Roun' the Globe" had the majority of the large crowd on their feet, bouncing and shouting along to the sort-of locals done good.

All that, and they even risked losing the momentum of their non-stop to set to stop for a few minutes and promote literacy.

And proud we are of all of them.




Twista, crowned the world's fastest rapper by the Guinness Book of World Records, is enjoying the late-blooming success he's found in recent years. The 15-year Chi-town veteran commanded the stage and continued to receive the love that the crowd had shown his openers, despite being in the second hour of a very hot -- in more than one meaning of the term -- concert.

Twista rapped extremely fast. He rapped moderately fast. He performed "Slow Jamz", his hit tribute to the subgenre known to get you in the mood. The crowd, both young and old, responded with dance moves appropriate (and, in some cases, not so appropriate) for their age groups.

He also paid tribute to fallen hip-hoppers. He sampled Ozzy Osbourne and Luther Vandross. He pulled out some old school material. Then he pulled out another jam "for the ladies," "So Sexy."

Despite using an unimpressive bullet sound effect between songs, Twista kept it mostly family-friendly. In fact, the whole show was an impressive display of how to give a large range of people a fun night of dancing and singing without having to rely on shock value – or on a manufactured TV star better known for her smile than for her musical talent.

Kern's Korner

An ol' charmer
Kern's Korner is a home away from home

Address: Kern's Korner, 2600 Bardstown Road, across from the amazing Homemade Ice Cream & Pie Kitchen.

Small print: Open daily from 9 a.m. to around midnight, later if the crowd is good. Forget the Bambi Walk -- if you really want to impress and/or scare me, spend all 15 hours here one day!

Why you should go: Do I have to tell you why you should go home? No, you go because you love your family and they love you, even though you're a no-good screw-up who hasn't given them grandkids to dote on yet.

Just like at home, they'll feed you at Kern's; it ain't gourmet cookin' here, no no no, but it sure does taste good, like when you were 10 and all you cared about was playing basketball in the driveway with Nick and Charlie and Momma called you in for supper.

The sign outside reads, "Kern's Korner Sandwiches," but I pity the salesman traveling through who misses out on the burgers or the chili. Now isn't that Louisvillian of them, to throw you off track and be humble about their claim to fame? Your meal just might come back on you 20 minutes later, but that's part of the fun … right?


PHOTO BY CHRIS HALL

Being locally owned for decades, they love the horses, as we all do. The proud display of old photos led my dining companion, Jefrey, to announce, "The picture of the horse being washed is kinda sexy. …" Seeing the reaction upon my face, he added, "Not to me, though," with a nervous weasel laugh.

The clock behind the bar tells you one thing about the regulars: I'm not sure why Viagra made a bunch of clocks and distributed them, but it gave me something to ponder.

At Kern's, I feel like a child again, not just because of the home-cooked charm of the food, but because most of the lunch crowd is old enough to be my father. I don't think Ed Asner and Norman Mailer were in town recently, but their doppelgangers were.

At night the crowd gets younger … but not by much. Friendly thirtysomethings not quite ready to try their pick-up lines at Jim Porter's practice them here on the weekends. If your hair's not too big, don't worry, they'll let you be.

Bottom line: Kern's Korner is an ol' charmer, a li'l slice of Germantown for those closer to the southern end of Bardstown Road. If anything I said about it sounds like anything less than high praise, well, that's your fault. I'm just glad they didn't name it "Kern's Korner Kafe."

Todd Hildreth with Craig Wagner & Chris Fitzgerald

Todd Hildreth Accordion Trio
(Groovy Todd)

Yeah, that's right, accordion.

Todd Hildreth, the pianist renowned for his jazz performances, has two new recordings. One’s a piano jazz trio, but this one is what it says it is.

This is lady and the tramp sharing spaghetti music. This is cotton candy at the State Fair music. Post-modern cartoon music. Comparisons are unavoidable, albeit unfortunate. This is serious music, played with whimsy and a lack of inhibition.



Bassist Fitzgerald provides nimble, consistent support, especially on Blue Monk". Wagner stands out on guitar: almost as good as Django, if not quite AS beautiful.

The trio speeds through "You and the Night and the Music", landing somewhere between polka and bluegrass. Hildreth's accordion playing on "The Days of Wine and Roses" suggests a saxophone, Dexter Gordon alone in Paris. All three shine equally on a contemplative “Stella by Starlight”. Crowded House's “Don’t Dream It's Over” is a nice try, but suffers without vocals. "Body and Soul" might have been better served by a piano but is still romantic.

c. 2005 LEO Weekly

Boozseller at the Executive West

Living up to its name
Hotel's Boozseller is a charming throwback

Address: The Boozseller at the Executive West, 830 Phillips Lane

Small print: Open daily from around 2 p.m. until midnight or 1 a.m., depending on the crowd.

Why you should go: It's like going back to the womb … the sexy, sleazy, drunken womb.

The Boozseller has been inside the Executive West for 30-odd years. Apparently it's retained the original furnishings, making it equally thrilling for lovers of architecture and design and lovers of vintage kitsch. It's like a ski lodge, but if you go outside you'll see our airport instead of the mountains of Ketchum, Idaho.

The chairs are old, thick, plush and red. There's a fireplace -- it's fake, but when the Boozseller was considering removing it, the regulars complained.

That's right, the bar in the hotel next to the airport has regulars. I think I'm becoming one of them.


PHOTO BY JAMIE RHODES

I haven't even seen Randy Meyers yet. Apparently he's a one-man band who plays on a stage behind the bar. The setting brings to mind the Country Bear Jamboree, only this is Charles Bukowski's Disneyland.

The room is large -- big enough for a wedding, bar mitzvah or Lebowski Fest.

If you want to get romantic, there are some booths tucked away in the back that are very good for getting to know someone better, or planning a coup (or, if you're extremely romantic, both).

The service is excellent. As I sat down, the bartender offered me the TV remote, something that that sullen character at Freddie's would never consider. When his replacement came on, she immediately announced that she was having a bad day: "I was about to kill my man."

Regardless, it did not affect her performance.

Bottom line: The Executive West is a family-owned business surrounded by chains. The hotel's Web site brags of visits from everyone from Foghat to Patrick Swayze to President Nixon. The Boozseller is as weirdly enjoyable as the name suggests. It's an awesomely American institution that deserves another visit.

Jamie Barnes

"Honey from the Ribcage"
(Silber Records)

When Jamie Barnes appeared on this year's "Louisville Is for Lovers" compilation, some local music fans were surprised. The disc featured Valentine's Day-themed songs by many familiar local acts, but Barnes wasn't one of the better known. Many feel that he stole the show.

Turns out he already had one disc out, "The Fallen Acrobat." There's nothing new about his approach — the whispered, intimate, confessional sounds of Iron and Wine and Simon & Garfunkel, Elliott Smith and Nick Drake; it's the sound of a teenager placing a midnight phone call to the girl he likes, hoping not to get caught by a strict parent.



At times, Barnes purposely toughens up his sound by layering junkyard percussion, toy keyboards and Muppet banjo. The effect answers the previously unasked question, "What would John Denver have sounded like if he had followed Tom Waits' career path?" (I should probably clarify that, unlike some music critics, I like John Denver, though not as much as I like Tom Waits.)

Barnes is still finding his way; his experimental urges might be an attempt to cover self-consciousness about how pretty and dreamy his songs actually are. While such tendencies are to be commended, he might benefit from letting some songs go naked. Lyrically, he goes the easy way too often. An original lyric like "Pearly Gate & Son Pest Control" stands out in contrast to the pained metaphors found in "Snow Angel" and "Oil Rig."

Barnes is maintaining a prolific performance schedule locally while he works on his next record. Further experience and maturity can only deepen and expand on his lovely, necessary music.

The Flaming Lips

The Fearless Freaks
(Shout! Factory)

This is the last new pop/rock story left to tell on film: 1) band works hard, 2) band members get weirder, better and more beloved 20 years after their humble beginnings, and 3) everyone in the band lives happily ever after.

The Flaming Lips' story is not completely free of clichés, but you won't see them on "Behind the Music" or "Hit Me Baby One More Time."

The Fearless Freaks, a movie assembled over 15 years by friend and collaborator Bradley Beesley, is closer in spirit to Crumb, the documentary about artist R. Crumb and his tortured brothers.

Charismatic leader Wayne Coyne and charisma-free bassist Michael Ivins started the band with a rotating cast in Oklahoma in 1983.

Initially too-inspired by the Southwestern acid-fried country punk of the Meat Puppets and the Butthole Surfers, by 1991 the Flaming Lips' art project turned into something bigger and better.

While Nirvana and Lollapalooza were redefining the potential of goofy, freaky pop music, Coyne and Ivins recruited percussionist Steven Drozd, a multitalented multi-instrumentalist.

Butthole Surfer Gibby Haynes, who shows up mostly to accuse Coyne of stealing his act, is asked what Coyne's greatest asset is. He laughs and replies, "Steven."



Despite the common perception of the band members as druggies, Coyne is revealed to be a sober workaholic, able to live up to the Butthole Surfers' early potential in part by not succumbing to the drugs that hobbled the latter band.

While Coyne is the voice, persona and ringmaster, Drozd is shown as the truly inspired music maker.

For several years, however, Drozd was addicted to drugs. Filmmaker Beesley's intimate relationship with the band allowed him a trust no one else could've achieved, culminating in a frank discussion with Drozd about his sickness as he prepares to inject heroin.

In addition, we meet the families of Coyne and Drozd. Both were raised in poor families in which drugs were prevalent, a setting that led brothers of both men to addiction and jail time.

Despite the sometimes bleak problems, the band continues to revitalize itself and evolve into the happiest show on Earth.

Ninety minutes goes by without even mentioning their appearance on Beverly Hills, 90210, but there's enough gripping material even without it.

Frankfort Avenue Beer Depot

Address: Frankfort Ave. Beer Depot, 3204 Frankfort Ave.

Small print: Open 10 a.m. until 1, 2, 4 a.m. … depends on the night and how busy it is.

Why you should go: Beerhalla!

I'm not sure if this is a legally binding term, but this is what anyone who knows anything will say if you mention this place.

How does one review a bar when the subject in question is hardly a bar? The question isn't posed as an insult; I'd recommend the Beer Depot to pretty much everybody, but I often forget that it's a bar.

They have beer, yes, fear not. Situated as they are in a moderately well-off residential neighborhood that's more St. Matthews than Crescent Hill, the owners of the Frankfort Avenue Beer Depot made their best decision when they installed a nine-hole miniature golf course and pingpong table in the back. Where else can you go for such activities late at night?




PHOTOS BY DURELL HALL JR.

The pingpong table dominates the back, where it becomes a focal point for all who wish to play or observe. Unlike some bars, where one pool table can turn a big room into a claustrophobic traffic jam, here the pingpong table is a benevolent king. It allows for enough room to sit and enjoy, but that is all.

You can play miniature golf, but prepare to feel like a red-headed stepchild. No one cares about your silly little game, even if there's no table tennis to watch.

Why you should think twice: Walking into the front room, the bar room, always reminds me of walking into a South Florida tourist trap, especially during the summer. Men older than you and I (and even less in touch with current fashion developments) hold court, loudly discussing those topics that are discussed only by men of a certain age, including but not limited to politics, football and "gitting-R-done".

As much as I enjoy a cold beer, sometimes I want something else. Sometimes I need something that will dull the pain of everyday life in a Red State just a little bit. The Beer Depot offers only beer. This, to me, is an offense similar to listening only to the Beatles' early records. Sure, they're pretty good, but there's even greater greatness out there.

Bottom line: You like to play sports, but you're hanging out at a bar in Louisville so you're probably not quite as good as Babe Ruth or Magic Johnson. At least you can play some pingpong while you suck down that reasonably priced beer.

David Mead

Wherever You Are
(Eleven Thirty)

There’s a difference between passion and self-absorption. Both involve shouting, but, usually, only one deserves it. David Mead is self-absorbed.

His most recent record, Indiana, showed that he can improve with age. On this EP, recorded in 2002 and delayed due to a corporate merger, he continues to pump out more middle-of-the-road corporate pop; he’s one of the better contributors to this genre, but the operative word here would be "middle". While more notable than college freshmen favorites like Dave Matthews or Jack Johnson, Mead lacks the more inventive, literary qualities of Death Cab for Cutie and the emotional overflow of early U2.



It's hard to get too upset by Mead's music. He could, technically, be duller. He tries, and deserves a little bit of goodwill for that. He probably feels pretty good about how earnestly – and often – he shares and shares his internal rollercoaster with whoever wishes to listen. He probably has something to share with someone, though he doesn’t have anything new to say. I haven’t seen that Kirsten Dunst tennis movie, but I’d bet that some of these songs would be not too obtrusive in a romantic montage in a Kirsten Dunst tennis movie. However, I need more.

c. 2005 LEO Weekly

Bentley's

Address: Bentley's Restaurant & Lounge at the Holiday Inn, 120 W. Broadway.

Small print: Open 11-1 a.m. daily. Happy hour is Monday through Friday, 5 to 7 p.m.

Why you should go: In a town where some people frequent the same bars every night, Bentley's is a cozy hideaway where you're guaranteed not to run into your ex or that guy you just kicked out of the band.

Plus, if you're looking to meet someone new -- having already dated every ear X-tacy clerk and Lynn's server -- you just might meet a sexy, bored young sales rep from Tacoma, Wash., who's here for only two days.

Why you should think twice: It's a fairly basic room. No billiards or jukebox or lizards under glass here, just cable TV. If you just want to drink and watch Comedy Central, maybe you should buy a six-pack and stay home.

Why you should still go: It's an oddly attractive room; one can imagine that the production designer of "The Brady Bunch" drew up the plans. With a little imagination you might be able to trick yourself into believing that you're on vacation.


PHOTO BY DAVID HARPE

It might seem like a safe, predictable environment, but on my second visit I found myself being counseled by a Vietnam War veteran on -- how do you say this? -- what I needed to learn if I wanted to keep my woman happy. He also told my companion, Sally, that she reminded him of his late wife, except that Sally wasn't "wearing Daisy Dukes and a tube top."

When our new friend became too much fun, the friendly bartender, Mike, was quick to usher him out of the establishment without causing a scene.

Bottom line: If you're looking for something a bit off the beaten path, but right in front of your nose, or if you're looking for something obvious that might contain hidden treasures for those willing to look, Bentley's is an above-average hotel bar.

I hear they serve some food, too, but that's beside the point. Why anyone would go to the Holiday Inn for a steak is beyond me, but I suspect that some people wouldn't think to go there for a Bourbon & Ginger, either, and they'd be missing out.

Joe Manning

The Chapel of the Bear
(Roller Rink Rampage Records)

You probably lost faith in music long ago. Yes, it's become harder than ever to find something that'll make your hairs stand up. If you'd been in Tyler Park one night last summer, though, you could've found religion in the music of one man, Joe Manning.

As he sang songs in the park's tunnel, Manning assumed several archetypes: preacher, prophet, gambler, seducer, lover and mourner. His music seems to have been born at the weird American crossroads where the blues, folk and bluegrass meet and merge after a few drinks. Recording outdoors for the resulting album, The Chapel of the Bear, was a great idea; the creatures constantly chirping in the background will appeal to some but might prove too distracting to others.



Manning is in his late 20s but aware of what has come before him. An a cappella version of a folk song, "A-Roving on a Winter's Night," compares well to earlier versions although it takes a confident singer to go where the likes of Doc Watson have gone before. His deep voice is rugged and weary, an uncommon beauty unafraid of exposure and judgment. Bruce Springsteen's "Nebraska" album is a clear inspiration, sharing an inventive storytelling style as well as a hushed, sepia-toned sound.

"Fall Easy," a Sunday song, falls short of the Velvet Underground's "Sunday Morning," but not by much. Second Story Man's Carrie Neumayer duets on the opener, "The Storm King & the Queen of Burning Little Hearts," providing the perfect partner for Manning. The sparks generated by the heat between the pair is enough to maintain a campfire all night long.

Louisville owes a debt to whichever time traveler went back to the Gold Rush era and found this guy.

The Photographic

The Photographic
(self-released)

The first recording by The Photographic is something to behold. The duo, Louisville's newest in an increasingly long line of thrilling instrumental wanderers, may be the most promising new local band to emerge this year.

The college-age pair play simple-seeming riffs which they build and then build some more, creating a warm swirl of sound that envelopes the listener in a violently happy hug. This is the kind of music that encourages you to do some of the work, a soundtrack to a movie that hasn’t been filmed yet. I like to imagine corpulent politicians chasing frightened unicorns, but you might see a loving couple sailing to Barbados. Either way works.



 

Two songs are based around guitars/bass/drums, but a third, "An Oceanographer's Lament", utilizes an offbeat keyboard instead of a guitar, suggesting a baroque classical music inspiration in addition to the expected post-rock influences. Drummer Chad Blevins's rock style, powerful when necessary, complements partner Jamey See Tai's more cerebral approach to his various instruments.

Local fans of Parlour and The Children are advised to seek out The Photographic. Best, try to see them live around town.

c. 2005 LEO Weekly

Instant Camera

Alive on Departure
(Wall to Wall Records)

Instant Camera is a Louisville band with plenty of potential. Like fellow locals VHS or Beta, they sound like they might have emerged in New York or in a large, stylish European city. The band's sound has much in common with New York fashion rockers Interpol and The Strokes, as well as British dance rockers Franz Ferdinand and Bloc Party.

Instant Camera is a rock band without any obvious debt to blues music, but there are echoes of 1980s music. Bouncy American New Wavers like Devo and Oingo Boingo pop up at times, as well as gloomy English buzzkillers such as Peter Murphy or Killing Joke.



What gives Instant Camera an edge on similar groups is its ability to draw inspiration from yet another source: hints of the theatrical German cabaret style emerge in the last songs, "Terrorvision" and "Hearing Is Disbelieving."

As the fashion and dance-rock scenes fall into the dustbin of our recent history, let's hope this band continues to evolve and surprise.