Sound & Shape get inspired

Sound & Shape is a passionate rock band from Nashville with a lot of soul. They're road warriors who have earned their spots. Their new ep, Now Comes the Mystery, was released on May 10. LEO spoke with singer/guitarist Ryan Caudle.

LEO: How would you describe your music to someone who hasn't heard you yet?
RC: Without knowing what their exact frame of reference is, I'd normally just say rock 'n roll. I think when you start breaking things down into sub-genres and sub-sub-genres, the magic of the self discovery aspect of music can get taken away. It's a super hard thing to be objective about one's music and not immediately say, "It sounds like the greatest thing you've ever heard in your life!"

LEO: Do you write on a schedule, or whenever inspiration strikes?
RC: I have certain open times in my schedule where I know I'll be able to sit down with my guitar and notebook, but usually, throughout the week, I'll be collecting little ideas as the inspiration hits me: lyric fragments, overall song ideas, a riff or a chord progression and then, when I have the free time, I'll sit down and assemble all the pieces. Sometimes the whole thing just comes at once though, and I'll just kind of stop what I'm doing and push through it.

LEO: Where do you find ideas for your songs?
RC: A song idea can literally come from anywhere. Sometimes, when I'm in a public place, I'll hear snippets of conversation and, after those people move out of earshot, my brain will just automatically pick up the storyline of their conversation and continue it internally, which will then sometimes turn into an idea or into an actual lyric. Other times, movies, books, television shows, etc. can kind of give a spark of inspiration as well. Not in a directly literal way, but more of a "that's cool... but what if THIS happened instead?" kind of way.

LEO: How do your surroundings inspire your music?
RC: I think your surroundings have a major subconscious impact on your writing. If you're comfortable in the place where a song is written, I think that comes through; just like if you're in an unfamiliar place or somewhere where you might not feel so secure, artistically or otherwise, that, too, will be evident in the finished product.

LEO: What is your favorite song to perform? What do you think is your worst song?
RC: Right now there are two, and they are actually both brand new. One is called "Wheels To Babylon" and the other is called "Everybody Leaves." They are both kind of on opposite ends of the spectrum, musically, but I think I managed to say what I wanted to say with each pretty completely.
As far as worst song goes, there are actually a few clunkers I'll take responsibility for, ha ha. Luckily, most of those are and will remain unreleased. Of all the released stuff, I'd have to say probably a song called "Feed Me to the Spiders" from our first record. It just doesn't go anywhere interesting or say anything.

LEO: What is the most rewarding part and the most difficult part about your work?
RC: The most rewarding part is definitely all the handshakes and hugs and the "you're my new favorite band"s. More than anything, I want to be great at what we do, so when people are into it, it's pretty much the best feeling you can imagine.
The most difficult by far is being away from home. Even if we're just gone for a few days, the second I get in the van I miss my girlfriend and our two cats and our apartment. Having someone at home makes being away kind of bittersweet sometimes.

LEO: Have you spent much time in Louisville? Any impressions of us?
HC: We've played Louisville off and on for a few years now and, with the exception of one time, we've always had great shows and a great time. Louisville is a lot like Nashville to me. It's a pretty forward thinking and "hip" town, in a state kind of known for being neither of those things.

Sound & Shape with BEHM
Thursday, June 23
10:30 p.m., $5
Hideaway Saloon
1607 Bardstown Road
http://www.facebook.com/soundandshape

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

Sallie Ford gets a-rockin'

Portland, OR's Sallie Ford and the Sound Outside recently made a splash at the 2011 Bonnaroo festival, and are now headed up to Louisville. Their album, Dirty Radio, a modern mix of rock, boogie and honky tonky blues, was released last month to acclaim, alerting music fans to a favorite of the Avett Brothers and Jolie Holland.



LEO: How challenging is it for you to channel older sounds, from rockabilly to jazz and blues, and make it sound modern and relevant?
SF: I usually only let that type of music inspire me and try not to copy anything to much. I just see what comes out, and it's usually something vintage sounding mixed with modern.

LEO: What modern music gets you excited? How do you feel about rock music these days?
SF: I really like a lot of modern music. Sharon Van Etten and Deer Tick are some of my favorites right now. I think there could be more rockin' music out there, but then again, we wouldn't want too much competition. Haha, just kiddin'. Deer Tick can be pretty rock 'n roll and seem like bad asses.

LEO: Just how cute is your band? Do you get a lot of groupies?
SF: I think of them more as nerds, but I'm sure the day will come when there are groupies. As for now, we got our minds set out for doin' a heck of a job being a busy touring band.

LEO: You're father is a puppeteer, which, of course, is awesome. Coming from that family, was doing anything other than music or performing ever a consideration?
SF: I did think about being a film maker for a while. I liked the idea of creating something behind the scenes and making an art that is group based. Being in a band is a lot like that. I just let my alter ego take over and don't overthink the whole "performing" thing.

LEO: You worked in a Vietnamese restaurant before achieving musical success. Can you eat Vietnamese food now, or does it bring up too many memories?
SF: Haha, I never was much of a fan of "Pho", but I still do enjoy a good "Bun" noodle bowl, or a yummy Vietnamese crepe. I'm just happy to not have those waitress nightmares anymore, where I screw up everyones order.

LEO: You've lived in Asheville and now Portland, OR, and you've played Bonnaroo. How many hip hippies can one person be surrounded by?
SF: Just glad to be in Portland, as I have yet to witness a drum circle.

LEO: Have you been to Louisville before? Any impressions of us?
SF: I have not been there, but I have a good friend that just moved there and has great things to say! Also, we briefly drove through Kentucky last week, and they had the nicest rest stop/welcome center we have ever seen. Go Kentucky!

Sallie Ford & the Sound Outside with Tamara Dearing
Thursday, June 23
8 p.m., $10
Uncle Slayton's
1017 E. Broadway
http://www.sallieford.com/

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

Junior Boys get smart

Junior Boys are a duo from Ontario, Canada, who have impressed both dance and indie music fans over the past decade. Their fourth and latest album, It's All True, was released this week by Domino Records. LEO spoke with Jeremy Greenspan, who was on a bus "somewhere between New York and D.C."

LEO: Do you enjoy traveling around the States?
JG: I do, yeah. I wouldn't say I enjoy this particular stretch of highway... (laughs). I wouldn't say that the Roy Rogers we went to was my favorite place in America (laughs), but yeah.

LEO: Do you prefer Tim Hortons?
JG: (laughs) No, I think that particular guy has worn out his welcome with me, actually.

LEO: I'd say your music has more of a European sound than a North American sound. Do you agree?
JG: Maybe... I don't know. To be perfectly honest, we probably have more success in North America than in Europe. In terms of the amount of people who come out to shows and all that kind of stuff. The Midwest, it's always kind of a crapshoot. We have lots of fans in Atlanta and on the East Coast.

LEO: Do you read your reviews?
JG: Oh, yeah, sure.

LEO: Do you find that helpful?
JG: If they're good (laughs). Yeah, if they're good, we feel real good about 'em. I have a friend who always says it takes 10 good reviews to get over one bad one. Our reviews on this record so far have been quite good, so we're feeling pretty good about it.

LEO: How has Domino Records been helpful to getting your music out? Have you ever thought about putting out your own records?
JG: They do a lot. Only recently have we taken much of a role in getting our music out by ourselves – running our Facebook, starting a Twitter page, all that stuff. That's pretty new for us. Most of the time, we've relied on our label to get our stuff out there.

LEO: Do you think social media has helped you?
JG: I think it does. It's hard to tell. I think so.

LEO: Do you consider your group more of a pop dance band or experimental electronic project?
JG: I think of us more as a pop group, but our roots are in dance music, electronic music, stuff like that. We don't necessarily make pop songs, but we don't want to alienate anyone. We make pop music that makes you think.

Junior Boys with Miracle Fortress and OK Deejays
Wednesday, June 22
9 p.m., $12 adv., $15 DOS
Headliners Music Hall
1386 Lexington Rd.
http://juniorboys.net/

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

JEFF the Brotherhood look for art

JEFF the Brotherhood is two brothers, rockin' Nashville natives who also spent time in Be Your Own Pet before heading off on their own adventure. Their new album, We Are the Champions, will be released on June 21. LEO caught up with drummer Jamin Orrall.



LEO: How much of your life have you spent on the road during the past decade? What do you do to keep it interesting?
JO: I've been on the road over half of the last ten years. It doesn't get boring, you are in a different place everyday, you meet people and good and bad stuff happens all the time.

LEO: You have a blog with lots of great photography of your travels. Who's the photographer? Is that another artistic outlet, or just a way to connect with fans?
JO: I take the pictures on our weblog. I just do it for fun and to keep people updated. It's a good way to remember where we were, too. I like to take pictures of snacks and dreadlocks.

LEO: How do you explain your music to people who haven't heard you? Do you say different things for older people?
JO: I just say that we are a rock band, to everyone. Party rock.

LEO: How much popularity and fame do you want to achieve? Is there a level where it could get to be too much?
JO: We just want to keep playing and touring and not have to work normal jobs. It's nice when lots of people like our music, but being really famous would probably be horrible.

LEO: What do fans do for you in different cities? Do they bring you gifts, make things for you, or just want to hang out?
JO: Sometimes they bring us snacks; normally they just want to hang. I wish they would make us drawings.

LEO: What do you hate about the music business? Like most?
JO: Hate rules, like playing music.

LEO: Brothers often fight, especially brothers in long-running rock bands. How do you guys do together?
JO: We fight every 5 minutes about everything, but we get over it really quick. We are just brutally honest with each other. We have to take someone on tour with us or we go crazy. We have never had a fist fight.

LEO: Louisville's not far from Nashville. Have you spent any time here? Do you have any observations or stories about being here?
JO: I haven't spent a lot of time there, but I like Kentucky, it's pretty.

JEFF the Brotherhood
with Cy Barkley, K Tranza, State Champion
Magnolia Bar & Grill
1398 S. 2nd St.
Sunday,June 19
8 p.m., $7 adv. / $10 DOS
www.facebook.com/JEFFtheBrotherhood

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

album review: Danny Flanigan

Hope Is a Word...
Danny Flanigan
SELF-RELEASED



Nick Hornby wrote once about how he never understood Jackson Browne’s music before he turned 40. Even at a much younger age, I understood the sentiment: Rock is for the young, it’s supposed to be edgy, blah blah blah ... However, most popular music today doesn’t express what life is like for 40-something-and-up parents, and most songwriters aren’t Bob Dylan. Louisville vet Danny Flanigan’s new album is a solid entry into the middle-aged domestic music genre: part Lyle Lovett (clever), part James Taylor (sentimental) and part John Hiatt (both). He’s a skilled lyricist, a natural storyteller backed by solid musicians like Steve Cooley and Todd Hildreth, and the album benefits from crystal clear production by Danny Kiely. Some songs are full of life, though others are a bit too ready for public radio picnics. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry ... but if you’re under 40, this might not be your thing. Yet.

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

White Denim hang on to rock 'n roll

Texas-based rockers White Denim are a modern throwback, a classic rock band who have achieved success through both hard work and Internet-based buzz. Their new album, D, was given four stars by Rolling Stone, which said their “sublime attack often recalls late-Sixties Grateful Dead, when their songs still had garage-rock drive but were exploding every which way.” LEO spoke with singer/guitarist James Petralli.



LEO: You seem to have had an easier time in England than here. From Hendrix to Kings of Leon, why do you think they respond more quickly to American rock ’n’ roll than some Americans do?
James Petralli: I think the main reason is that the U.K. is a much smaller and more densely populated country than America is. We were fortunate enough to work with an amazing group of people that understood our music and where we wanted to take the band on the first two records. The right combination of industry support and social climate made it easy for us to reach the entire country. Also, it could be the school systems. Generally, the people residing in Europe have a deeper inherent appreciation for artistic gestures across the board.

LEO: In the studio, how much do you try to capture your live sound? How free do you feel to experiment with sounds you might not be able to recreate live?
JP: This is a song-by-song situation. On the first two records, our studio space prevented us from capturing the full band live. We spent time trying to capture live individual takes, but were never able to track the trio together. Now that we are in a larger space, we are consistently going to the live band approach to recording basic tracks. Both ways have yielded successful results. We view the studio and stage as two completely independent mediums that may or may not inform one another from song to song. We try not to limit ourselves in either realm.

LEO: How much affect have blogs had on people knowing who you are? Do people tell you how they first heard your music?
JP: Most people that read music blogs have at least heard of us, though many have probably forgotten about us on account of the height of our “blog buzz” occurring in 2008. I really appreciate the support we have received from a few music sites. I do, however, feel that music blogs have had a tremendous impact on the way certain groups of people process music. I am not by any means saying that it is the fault of music blogs, but I think there is something disturbing about how disposable music can feel when you acquire it digitally and how that affects our culture. People generally do not tell me how they first heard our music, though I am interested in that. Maybe they will begin to when they read this.

LEO: Do cool dudes in rock bands still get as much action as they did in the ’70s and ’80s? Or is it more of a business-like atmosphere that you encounter today?
JP: I am not sure, really. I think as long as there are bros and babes in the world, there will always be action. We are a pretty serious bunch, though. Hanging on is much more important to us than hanging out.

White Denim
Sunday, June 19
Uncle Slayton’s
1017 E. Broadway
$10; 8 p.m.

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

Ben Sollee strolls all over the map

Ben Sollee is one of the most popular, acclaimed and surprising acts to emerge from Kentucky onto the national stage in recent years. The singer/cellist from Lexington recently released his second solo album, Inclusions, which Paste magazine said “... is as eclectic as Sollee, exploring post-modern jazz one minute and simple folk the next, with gospel themes running up the spine.” Sollee celebrates with a concert in the park this Saturday, which is preceded by a 5K walk and bicycle ride.



LEO: You’re making a video for each song on this album. What is the value of that medium for you?
Ben Sollee: Well, we’re trying. It’s a rich opportunity these days to explore all the other creative reflections of music through other mediums, like dance and visual art in video. Plus, it’s another chance to include pieces and parts of community in this project. Hopefully, we’ll be able to get all the videos done.

LEO: The intro piece on the album was inspired by the Basque country music of Spain. How did you encounter that, and how did it affect you?
BS: I came across a collection of Spanish folk music at a record shop in Ann Arbor, Mich., that Alan Lomax collected. The recordings from the Basque country were captivating. Many of the dances had elaborate, brash, cadenza-like openings that embodied a certain spirit. So (Louisville saxophonist) Jacob Duncan and I teamed up to create something unique from the idea of those recordings. On the album, it serves as a grand, stumbling entrance that adds to the drama of the heavy groove in “Close to You.”

LEO: You’ve worked recently with an Atlanta DJ and a North Carolina dance troupe. How do you choose your collaborators? How did these and other collaborations work out?
BS: Oh, I just try to work with good folks doing good things these days. Time is too short to do otherwise. I love collaborations because they always test my ideas, keep me honest and on my toes. My work with DJ 2nd Nature and Detroit-based DL Jones was seminal for this record, and I hope we can put out those tracks in the future as well.

LEO: NPR and USA Today have been full of praise for you. How famous can a cellist become in the pop world?
BS: Ha, a fun question ... as famous as any other musician, I suppose. In the pop world, there’s certainly a stigma attached to the idea of a “star,” but, at the same time, the mold is broken often enough. Just trying to play some good music for the time being, though.

LEO: What do you do on the road when something happens to your cello?
BS: You mean other than me? ... Well, we have an official shaman that can heal it from afar. Usually takes two to three days. In all honesty, though, we have had great fortune with people helping out from Twitter and Facebook when we’ve had serious breakdowns in the instrument department.

LEO: Who are some of your favorite Louisville musicians today?
BS: I think violinist Scott Moore is quietly making some really neat things happen with the 23 String Band and some of his own solo stuff. Obviously, I’m a fan of Cheyenne Marie Mize’s work, and I think Justin Lewis is building a nice story. I wish I could be there in the scene more ... busy times these are, friends.

LEO: Anything else you’d like to mention?
BS: I just want to make sure to express my gratitude to Louisville for all of its support. This is a fun ride that would never have taken off without the warm support of the arts community and great audiences.

Ben Sollee with David Mead
Saturday, June 18
Iroquois Amphitheater
1080 Amphitheater Road
www.bensollee.com
$20 (concert), $25 (concert and 5K); 8 p.m. (5 p.m. for 5K)

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

Horse Feathers works for young and old listeners

Justin Ringle started the Portland, Ore.-based band Horse Feathers in 2004. Their three records have helped establish Ringle and his rotating cast as a new favorite to both young rockers and older folkies. Their most recent album, Thistled Spring, was released last year by the Kill Rock Stars label.



LEO: Do you enjoy being out on the road?
Justin Ringle: Yes and no. I’m just starting to work on a new record now, so it’s always bittersweet. I tour because it’s a part of my job, but sometimes it becomes a time-management issue. I’d like to be able to work on new stuff as well. It’s very difficult — there’s certain things I can do, but it’s really hard to write on the road. I need planned home-stays to act like a normal human for periods of time.

LEO: How far do you hope to go with your music?
JR: Well, that’s funny, ’cause I think about that every single time I make a record. On the one hand, I’ve already exceeded every single goal I ever had with music — I’ve got a much bigger career, in one way, than I ever thought I would have. At the same time, it’s contrasted by the fact that I still have to pay my bills and be an adult. As soon as that switches over from something purely about ambition and inspiration into dealing with the business, I’ve got to say that that changes the perspective. I’m pretty comfortable with where things are; if it got bigger, that’s great, but I just want it to happen in an organic way. That’s a complicated question.

LEO: Your music has a wintery vibe. Do you find that it plays differently in different seasons?
JR: Yeah, it does have a couple different paces, I suppose. The conception of the records is always different than how it comes off live. I started playing completely geared for listening rooms — very spare and quiet — but we’ve played from super-small, intimate rooms to thousands-plus festivals, and the music changes a lot depending on the situation. For me, the writing and recording has always responded to seasonal changes, but for the live show, it’s kind of a different experience than the records.

LEO: Do you do better in towns with lots of beards?
JR: You know what? I don’t think so! The beard crowd — that’s the Pitchfork crowd. And that’s cool, and I’ve lived in that galaxy a little bit, but honestly, the people who appreciate the music the most — maybe not surprisingly — we have a lot of 35-year-olds on up who’ve definitely gotten more into the music. We play some shows where it’s a very NPR-type crowd who really enjoy it; we play some other shows where it’s mostly 20-somethings. We’re maybe somewhat of an anomaly in that sense.

LEO: You’ve been through Louisville before. Do you have any impressions of our city?
JR: Yeah, I really liked it! Louisville is nice. We had a really great show — I think it was at, like, Skulley’s or Skull Kitchen? Skull Alley, right. You never know, when you play a market you’ve never played before, who is going to show up. We had an awesome show there — we had low expectations, ’cause we’d never been to Louisville before, and it was actually rad. Maybe you guys set your own bar.

Horse Feathers with Hello Mtn
Thursday, June 9
Uncle Slayton’s
1017 E. Broadway
horsefeatherstheband.com
$10; 8:30 p.m.

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

New music composers join forces for special night

by Peter Berkowitz & Ryan Burleson



Call it a function of our country’s collective obsession with immediate gratification, but the United States has never appreciated its contemporary composers like they do across the Atlantic. Nonetheless, a Louisville composer, Rachel Grimes, formerly of the Rachel’s band, has helped pave the way for new music poster children like Jóhann Jóhannsson, Zoe Keating and Nico Muhly.
Another name to add to that list is the California-born composer Dustin O’Halloran, who proudly declared that the Rachel’s album Music for Egon Schiele “is still one of (his) favorite records” and that it’s an “honor” to tour with Grimes.
“I spent several weeks in Europe last fall and had a wonderful experience,” Grimes says. “I met Dustin O’Halloran in Berlin, where he is now living. We had so much in common to compare notes on. There is increasing interest there in composer/performer instrumental music that is not strictly academic.”
Pianist Grimes worked with the Rachel’s between 1991 and 2005, and now works both as a soloist and with the Louisville-based rock band King’s Daughters & Sons. Her first solo album, Book of Leaves, was conceived in a holy setting.

LEO: What is the connection between your music and the spiritual/religious world? You recorded in an abbey, and you’re playing here in a church.
Rachel Grimes: Churches typically have wonderful acoustics and often really nice instruments — the case with both St. Francis of Assisi and Loretto Motherhouse. Both places welcome musicians and have frequent concerts. I am optimistic that there are others who really want to experience music in an intimate and personal environment.

LEO: What is it like playing solo, classical-type piano and more rock-type keyboards in KD&S?
RG: Well, I have always played a lot of different styles of music, because it is what I enjoy. I really enjoy playing with (KD&S members) Kyle, Todd, Michael and Joe — we seem to have this ongoing, unhurried conversation over the years that is really satisfying. I have a new piece for a piano and string trio and a few new pieces for solo piano that will be on this concert. I am working on recording those along with two new chamber pieces.

It was in film that Dustin O’Halloran began his ascent. Songs pruned from his first two albums, Piano Solos Vol. 1 and 2, effortlessly matched Sofia Coppola’s impressionistic rendering of “Marie Antoinette” in 2006. Three years later, O’Halloran was commissioned to compose his first original score, for William Olsen’s “An American Affair.” The experience of working with other players would inform the much more textured and ensemble-heavy Lumiere, his most recent studio album and first for 130701, FatCat’s orchestral imprint.
“I had always wanted to explore writing for other instruments, and in some ways I was always hearing them in my head,” O’Halloran says. “After doing a couple film scores, where I got to explore this, I really wanted to bring it back into my own work.”
Backed by the ACME Quartet, composer/violinist Peter Broderick and Stars of the Lid’s Adam Wiltzie on guitar, O’Halloran makes the transition from solo pianist tinkering away in an Italian farmhouse to full-fledged studio impresario look easy. Here, ambient and electronic music embellishments hover above plaintive string arrangements that support rather than overwhelm O’Halloran’s elegant expressions on keys.
Grimes and O’Halloran’s joint tour will hit other important U.S. cities in addition to Louisville, including Chicago and Hollywood. Grimes adds on her website, “If you know of any nice venues with a grand piano, please drop me a note.”

Rachel Grimes with Dustin O’Halloran
Friday, June 10
St. Francis of Assisi
1960 Bardstown Road
www.rachelgrimespiano.com
$12; 8 p.m.

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

Column: Old music in a new age

On Tuesday, May 31, I joined several thousand other music lovers in the Louisville Palace to enjoy local-rockers-turned-international stars My Morning Jacket performing a concert that was being filmed for YouTube, in an event sponsored by American Express. As the contrasting smells of weed and deep corporate investment wafted through the under-air-conditioned Palace, the management of another essential local group — The Louisville Orchestra — withdrew employment offers to orchestra members, leaving the 17th-largest metro area in the United States without an orchestra. (The night was less dramatic for those who stayed in and watched “NCIS” reruns.)

Much of the blame clearly lays with those managers who made an offer that would drastically slash the musicians’ pay, eliminate health insurance benefits, and make many of them part-time. However, blame should also be shared by people like me and others under, let’s say, 60, who really should be spending more time and money on things like the orchestra, the ballet and the museum. I mean, I love music, I love dance, I love art, and I earn a paycheck, so this should be easy, yes?

Yes, but ... something has misfired in our culture, where we feel we should be doing those things just like we should be flossing more often and eating fewer doughnuts. People mostly do what they want to do, not what they’re supposed to do. So, like the mother who hides vegetables to trick her child into eating better, the first place to look is at the orchestra, which maybe has not been doing enough to get my money.

Public radio station WFPK, 91.9, goes to the people with their free summer concert series Waterfront Wednesday, which attracts thousands of attendees, some of whom are as drawn to being outside for free picnicking and people watching as they are to taking in the sounds of music acts of sometimes varying quality. I bet a lot of people would be interested in hearing the orchestra for free in such a lively setting, as opposed to what some perceive as a stuffy old hall. I don’t want to have to wear a suit to go hear music; I’d like to wear something comfortable, maybe have a drink, and be able to relate to orchestra music as a modern, vibrant form without having to look like I’m an English butler. Surely some sponsors can put their corporate cash behind that?

Then there’s the problem of orchestras trying to appeal to “pop” audiences by playing the music of “Star Wars” or Motown. They can’t be all classy and dignified, pouring their hearts into beautiful works that have lasted for centuries one night, then putting a cheeky spin on “The Tears of a Clown” the next — it’s just unnatural. The orchestra should be an enjoyable night out, but with some dignity left over afterward.

I’ve been to the Speed Museum three times in the past year — for their Art After Dark series, which reaches out to a younger audience who wants something more relatable, like booze, films and rock bands — something, anything, different and fresh — to make the institution fun again. Children have Art Sparks, and we need something special, too.

Maybe this recent turmoil will prove to be a blessing disguised as a curse. The orchestra members have recently begun performing under the name Keep Louisville Symphonic. They are planning to play again in July, and it will surely be a great opportunity to see some passionate artists at their most fired-up. They’re not asking for straight-up donations, they’re merely asking to not be screwed over by a manager who receives an annual salary of $115,000 while leading a drive to drastically reduce the pay of musicians who would have to split their time between being world-class players and taking your order at Wendy’s.

Life is all about marketing. Pop singers become famous because a lot of money has been spent promoting them; politicians who spend the most often end up winning elections. Our orchestra probably needs to learn how to market themselves better to people who would value them more if it seemed fun. But first, someone needs to stand up, check in hand, willing to say that investing in the culture of our community is more important than spending millions advertising on “NCIS.”

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

Dawes make plans for the future

Dawes have emerged recently as one of the strongest roots-inspired rock bands in years, reminiscent of predecessors like My Morning Jacket and the Band. Their new album, Nothing Is Wrong, hits the streets on Tuesday, June 7th. Louisville Metro fans can celebrate with them at Iroquois Amphitheater, where they will perform with Bright Eyes. LEO recently caught up with Taylor Goldsmith:

LEO: I’ve gone to thousands of shows over the past 20 years, but you guys have set a new record for me by opening for not just one, but two, other non-local bands in the same week. Tonight (June 1st) you’re playing with Brett Dennen, and on Tuesday you’re playing with Bright Eyes. How did this happen?
Taylor Goldsmith: We were offered both tours without realizing that both Louisville dates were so close together. The Bright Eyes tour is only going for a week and the Brett Dennen dates bookend that, lasting for about 2 months. It just so happens that their routing ended up taking them both through Louisville within a week. So, it’s mainly just a happy accident.

LEO: Your new album, “Nothing Is Wrong,” sounds, to me, to be more of an early ’70s Laurel Canyon album, where your first, “North Hills,” had more of a ’60s Woodstock vibe. Am I right, or wrong, in your mind?
TG: We have a lot of influences and inspirations and make our records in whatever way seems most natural and fitting for the song. We weren’t particularly going for a 60’s Woodstock sound with our first record or a 70’s Laurel Canyon sound with our second, but we were definitely inspired by both of those genres during the making of both records, so that’s just how each came out, I guess. We’re happy that people draw connections to other music they like or are familiar with, but none of it is ever intentional on our part.

LEO: Is the success you’ve had, so far, been what you were expecting?
TG: We still live very normal lives and, despite whatever success might come our way (which we would be just fine with), we have every intention to continue to. I feel like in this style of music, the concept of celebrity isn’t very relevant. It seems to me like all these independent artists appeal on the basis that they’re regular people, and don’t inspire their fans to treat them as if they were larger than life, necessarily. We’re not a big band, so I’m just assuming right now, but that’s the impression I get.

LEO: You‘ve worked recently backing up Robbie Robertson, formerly of The Band. Do you see yourselves changing through the years as he has, from scruffy rockers to slick hair guys in fancy suits?
TG: Haha. We have no plans on how we’re gonna dress in the future. Whatever it is, I assume it’ll be organic. If our hair turns grey and falls out, or if our faces get all wrinkly, I bet we’ll go with it.

LEO: Do you have any associations with Louisville, or memories, or impressions?
TG: Our ‘Waterfront Wednesday’ show was a great Louisville experience. And each time we’ve visited your radio station there (91.9 FM, WFPK), we’ve been made to feel like Louisville likes us coming through, so I’m sure we’ll be back as often as we can be. Even twice within one week, I guess.

Dawes with Bright Eyes
Tuesday, June 7
Iroquois Amphitheater
1080 Amphitheater Road
8 p.m.
$28-$33

The Low Anthem aim for the fences

“Have you ever interviewed Jim James? I’m a fan.”

Questions like “Have you ever gone to the Kentucky Derby with Colonel Sanders and My Morning Jacket?” are expected from non-locals, but this time I’m being asked by Jeff Prystowsky, leader of a highly acclaimed, increasingly popular band, The Low Anthem.

Prystowsky spoke with LEO from the band’s van, in “Nowheresville,” near the border of New Mexico and Arizona. The up-and-coming folk-rock band has spent most of this year on the road, promoting their richly textured third album, Smart Flesh. The Providence, R.I., natives went from self-releasing their early albums to signing with Nonesuch Records, the NPR-favorite label of Jessica Lea Mayfield, The Magnetic Fields and the Carolina Chocolate Drops, among others. Their headlining tour brings them to Louisville Saturday, if for no other reason, says Prystowsky, than because “we’re bourbon drinkers, and that’s the mecca.”

“We’ve been out constantly since February. We did a month in Europe, then the East Coast as a headliner, we opened for Iron & Wine for 12 shows, then Jazz Fest, then back to the Northwest,” he says.

Do they enjoy their journeys? “Yeah, very much so. Like right now, I just love the empty landscape with the giant mountains looming in the distance. I find that very beautiful and peaceful and calming.”

Prystowsky doesn’t seem like the cliché of the road-warrior rocker. His interests also include history and baseball. The Orioles fan compares their shows to his favorite sport, almost effortlessly. “It’s kind of holy practice for me. Those are my favorite concerts, when the artist reaches the level a preacher achieves — that intensity. We can feel it on stage when it happens, and it doesn’t happen often. It’s like a batting average — if you can get probably one out of 10, it’s pretty good. (Bandmate) Ben just commented, six out of 10 is his goal.”

The inquisitive bandleader asks my thoughts on their Louisville venue. It’s their last headlining show before they go back out with Mumford & Sons. Many of their spring shows sold out, so I ask if people back home recognize them now on the street. He says sometimes, but “it’s kind of in a friendly way, not in a paparazzi way. It’s also good for discounts.”

The Low Anthem with Daniel Lefkowitz and the County Line
Saturday, June 4
Headliners Music Hall
1386 Lexington Road • 584-8088
$10; 9 p.m.

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

Kentucky super magnet Dawn Landes brings another one home

Dawn Landes is a smart, playful singer-songwriter who has earned critical praise and the modern version of hit singles — her songs have popped up often on TV. She performed with the band Hem before her solo work resulted in a following of her own. Her folky, accessible songs might be the easiest clue that this Brooklyn resident actually hails from a city more relaxed and Southern.

LEO: You’re from Louisville. So, where did you go to high school?
Dawn Landes: I went to Ballard. Go Bruins!

Landes, 30, once worked as an audio engineer in New York recording studios and has high standards for live sound quality. “It’s always a little unnerving to put your music into the hands of a total stranger each night, so that took some getting used to, but we’ve started to control more of our sound from the stage,” she says. “Sometimes I miss the smaller rooms with the Mackie mixer right there onstage.”
Her band has included other Louisvillians. When asked about her drummer, a veteran of the Java Men and King Kong, Landes says, “Ray Rizzo is the maaann! Hands down, a true magic man. Ray and I have been playing music together for over 10 years now; we met when I was still in high school and couldn’t even sneak myself in to a Java Men show. I love the fact that we both have roots in Louisville. For a while there, I was touring as a trio with an all-Louisville band — me, Ray and Eric Stephenson on cello. There’s some kind of Kentucky super magnet that pulls people together — just ask any NYC transplant.”

Are there other locals who intrigue her? “I’d love to work with Jim James someday. I’m always excited to hear what he’s working on. And Will Oldham scares me, in a good way.”

The band has been working recently in upstate New York on a new album, “at a big old haunted house, recording ideas and trying to spook each other. I took a few songs down to Mississippi last week and had some high school marching band kids play on a few tracks — that was fun. I’m hoping to finish up the songs in the next few months.”

LEO: Tell us about the Bandana Splits.
DL: Of course! The Bandana Splits is a girl group I formed with two friends last year. We all play in other bands but just kept getting together to hang out and couldn’t help but write a bunch of songs together. I love singing with those ladies. We’re all pretty inspired by the Andrews Sisters’ kooky harmonies and the Phil Spector wall-of-sound. Check it out! Our record is coming out this summer, late July.

Landes is happy to have gained an audience, though she says, “I do notice that people tend to sing along to my songs that have been in TV shows and commercials. Other than that, the music industry is a complete mystery to me.”

LEO: You’re playing at Churchill Downs. What do you think about Derby and that aspect of our local culture?
DL: I’m really excited to play at the Downs. That’s where I went to prom for the first time, and I love the Derby. I was just at Jazz Fest in New Orleans for the past Derby and found myself crowded around a tiny TV with a handful of Kentuckians, shouting “Go Pants on Fire!” As for that aspect of the culture, I love the pageantry and tradition as much as the Chow Wagon.

Dawn Landes & the Hounds
Friday, May 27
Churchill Downs
www.churchilldowns.com
$10; 8:15 p.m.

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

Another funky night, another jazzy city

The New Mastersounds emerged from Leeds, England, in the late ’90s as a group completely uninterested in the then-popular Britpop sounds of Oasis and Blur. Their update of swingin’ ’60s jazz-funk quickly endeared them to music aficionados who yearned for both old sounds and young energy. Their collaborators have ranged from members of the Meters and the Headhunters to younger talents such as Grace Potter, Karl Denson and Mr. Scruff. LEO caught up recently with guitarist Eddie Roberts.



LEO: How do you describe your music to someone who’s never heard you before? Do you describe it differently to older and younger people?
Eddie Roberts: I find that describing our music does depend on the person you are describing it to, as the term “funk” can mean so many different things to different people — from James Brown to George Clinton to Funky House. You have to do a little digging to find out how much music history the person has — “Have you heard of the Meters? James Brown?” If the answer is no, then I would tell them that we play funky music to make people dance. If the answer is yes, then I would say that we came from a scene in the UK of DJs playing old funk and soul, and we learned by imitating those old records, and that we treat our show like a DJ would by keeping the dance floor going and taking the audience on a journey.

LEO: What is your process like for creating new music?
ER: We pretty much work the same way on every album. We like to work quickly, five days at the most. We leave a lot of the creative process for the studio, but enter into it with a lot of sketched ideas. I feel that, this way, you capture a spontaneity and energy in the music.

LEO: How do you get introduced to collaborators?
ER: Generally, we either knew them before or we’ve met each other at festivals or just on the road. The collaboration starts with us all feeling that we would simply love to make some music together.

LEO: Do you think you would be happier living in an earlier time?
ER: Not really. I think it’s a very romantic idea, but the reality is, life has so many more opportunities for more people these days — and who knows, I might not have been in the right place at the right time in 1967!

LEO: Your website notes that My Morning Jacket is playing (a sold-out show) on the same night as you. How do you feel about situations like this?
ER: Every night in every city, there is always “another” show going on, and more often than that, by a more popular band. People simply make their choice on any given night with what they feel like, and a number of other factors.

The New Mastersounds with Deep Fried 5
Tuesday, May 31
Headliners Music Hall
1386 Lexington Road • 584-8088
www.newmastersounds.com
$15; 9 p.m.

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

Still Krazy after all these years

Louisville's loudest music fest returns

Andy Rich was a busy man in Louisville a decade ago, running the influential Initial Records label and Krazy Fest, a weekend of up-and-coming, loud and proud bands on the label or otherwise part of the scene. Rich led the festival annually from 1998 through 2003, and soon after left the Louisville music scene for a much different life.

Though his involvement with this year’s revived fest at Expo Five is more as a figurehead, LEO wanted to catch up with Rich, look back, and see how much has changed — and how little has changed — since.



LEO: This is the rebirth of Krazy Fest, after a successful run between 1998 and 2003. Why now?
Andy Rich: I believe everybody was feeling a bit nostalgic after the Endpoint reunion show back in April of 2010. Soon thereafter, Andy Tinsley called me and asked about bringing Krazy Fest back. The idea had been bandied about in the past, but I thought Andy was a good person to take up the gauntlet, as he has many great connections and a history of success when it comes to producing concerts.

LEO: What have you been doing since ’03? Do you miss running Initial Records?
AR: Initial wound down around the end of 2004, and I moved to Las Vegas. I was really into poker, and poker was starting to really take off after ESPN began airing it more frequently. I ended up getting a job with Caesars Entertainment working in the Harrah’s Las Vegas poker room. I gradually moved into management over the next few years and started running a few of the Caesars Entertainment poker rooms in Las Vegas. I eventually became operations director for the World Series of Poker. I currently run the Caesars Palace poker room, the Rio poker room and the World Series of Poker.

Running the WSOP has some parallels to what it took to pull off Krazy Fest. WSOP is all about people who love playing poker, just as Krazy Fest is all about people who love music. Both groups are quite passionate. I consider myself lucky that I’ve never had to endure a job I didn’t love. I love what I do now, just as I loved my time running Initial.

I certainly miss some aspects of running Initial. I don’t think I realized at the time how creative and brilliant some of the people I was fortunate enough to work with truly were. I miss that every day was an absolute adventure, and our potential was only limited by our imagination. On any given day, we could get our records into a new store, get an elusive chain store account, find out about one of our bands landing a great tour or getting great press — or even uncover the next great band listening to an unsolicited demo. Running Initial was certainly a fun time in my life.

LEO: Much has changed in the music business, in Louisville and in general since 1998, or even since 2003. Does Krazy Fest still mean the same thing today — to you and to attendees?
AR: I don’t think Krazy Fest means the same thing to two people. For me, it was a great personal accomplishment just to put the event together and watch it unfold. I went to my first music festival in Dayton, Ohio, and thought, “This is amazing. I can do this in Louisville.” I loved that I could help introduce thousands of people to some of the great bands I enjoyed so much. Music can play such a huge and influential role in a young person’s life.

Things were so different 15 years ago, so it was incredible to be able to see so much of what you love all at once during Krazy Fest weekend. I think it’s very different now. If you love Mastodon in 2011, you can watch 100 different videos on YouTube and buy every piece of Mastodon memorabilia in existence on the Internet. If you loved Mastodon in 2001, you had to hope they came and played in your town to see them live, or buy a T-shirt. Or you had to hope somebody had a decent VCR tape! It’s amazing how quickly things can change in 10 years.

LEO: Are events like this more important to you because of the musical acts performing, or the community aspect?
AR: It was a big deal for the community; however, without the bands, it wouldn’t have been anything, so it really was a convergence of both. We never once booked a band unless we cared about them in one capacity or another. We even turned down major label sponsorship deals, because Krazy Fest was a labor of love, and watching shitty major label bands was exactly what Krazy Fest was not about. Initial was ingrained in the Louisville scene, and we did everything we could to help promote the bands from Louisville and the city of Louisville itself. We bought ads in the local fanzines, gave booth space to local businesses and even distributed a free map of the city with all of our favorite restaurants, record stores, tattoo shops, etc., highlighted in the hopes that the out-of-town visitors would take the opportunity to see the awesomeness of ear X-tacy or the Louisville Slugger Museum. Krazy Fest was its own little economy of scale, filling up local hotel rooms and restaurants. I even heard one year that ear X-tacy had their highest sales volume of the year during Krazy Fest weekend.

LEO: How do you get the mix of emo, metal, punk, etc. to flow smoothly? How much crossover do you think there is between fans of each band or genre?
AR: Our formula for picking the bands was a combination of many factors. First, it started with the bands on the label. Next, it was bands we loved, regardless of their popularity — bands myself and the other people involved with Initial and the fest wanted to see. After that, we made sure the local bands were represented as well. It was a given that the nationally known Louisville bands would be playing, but we also made it a point to include a couple of up-and-coming bands. And finally, we had to answer the question: Who do we love that could be the headliners, our anchors? That is where you get great bands like AFI, Jimmy Eat World, Avail, Thursday, Dillinger Escape Plan and the likes. Those bands are beloved for a reason.

After that, it was filling in a few blanks. We were fortunate that, however eclectic the line-up turned out, the festival always coalesced in the end. It’s pretty incredible to look back at older flyers and see Jimmy Eat World didn’t even headline, or that Dashboard Confessional was in the middle of the day. I guess you could say that, in the end, the whole was greater than the sum of its parts.

LEO: How important was including local bands, bands that don’t have records out nationwide yet?
AR: We made it a point to include at least one band every year that was from Louisville that was not yet nationally known. I remember sets from Red Sun, Out, Skam Impaired, Pflanz and the Glasspack. It was also the coming-out party for local bands that would go on to prominence, such as National Acrobat and Christiansen. I know there were a lot more local bands that would have liked the opportunity to play, but we had limited resources to work with. The last few years, there were always pre-Krazy Fest shows and parties featuring a lot of great local bands, and we did everything we could to support their efforts. Someday, one of those bands will emerge to be the next Endpoint, Elliott or Enkindels. As long as their name started with an “E.”

c. 2011 LEO Weekly
illustration by Ron Jasin

Running out of luck

Lucky Pineapple plays its final show on Friday after a seven-year run making an unexpected mix of punk, lounge, jazz, gypsy and many other conflicting sounds for delighted locals — and a confused MTV audience. The driving forces look back:



MATT DODDS
— guitars, vocals, percussion:
It began with me and Joey Kelly, who I had been in bands with on and off for several years. Early on, we talked about writing “tropical” songs. We also wanted to make an effort to find people to play with that would bring a little more than the usual guitar/bass/drums instrumentation we’d used in earlier bands.

WILLIAM BENTON
— guitars, vocals, percussion:
I certainly didn’t expect the band to get very far or last long. It wasn’t until (trumpeter) Su (Crocker) came in and we wrote “High Heels in the Sand” that I knew that was exactly what I wanted to do at the time. I recall thinking about weirder Mystic Knights of the Oingo Boingo arrangements as well as various types of folk music from around the world, and how we could fuse that with the more rockin’ bands that a few of us had come from.

DODDS
We sought out people who played instruments we’d never worked with, or people who played in a different style than we were used to, or in general tried to do things we only halfway understood. I really do think the process of people who kind of know what they’re doing introducing something and then having people who don’t really know what they’re doing adapt to it — and the other way around, more often than not — has been a big part of how we sound.

BENTON
As soon as I met Matt, I wanted to play music with him. He was the right kind of weird, and I was a big fan of a band he was in called Kelly, Darling and Dodds. So it was an honor to play with him in a band for so long. Of course, nobody needs to comment any further on how great of a drummer J.C. (Denison) is, or the really interesting and original “scenery” that (keyboardist) Brian (Sweeney) brought to so many of the songs. If I was to think about the one thing I miss the most about playing in Lucky Pineapple, I think it is probably just looking over and seeing Brian so into it.

DODDS
We just wanted to write songs that we all liked and then play those songs in front of people, hopefully making enough money to be able to afford to record and then press those recordings on CDs or records or whatever. We started doing those things, and more opportunities started to present themselves, so we took the ones that seemed like a good idea, sometimes with ruinous results, sometimes with completely cool results, usually with somewhat confusing results.

Scheduling anything became an absolute train wreck, but we hung in there for a while. I’ve never been real into being in bands where one person writes the songs and then tells everyone else what to play ... but trying to write with eight to nine people with that many different personalities and tastes also became a bit more than I think we could deal with. I think the last song we finished took close to a year on and off to write ... hopefully we can play it for the first time at our last show.

BENTON
Sometimes I think back on how a particular Lucky Pineapple song would come together, and it still fascinates me. I could never forecast how a song would end up. Most of the time that was a great thing. It’s a much easier thing to find some other “rock ’n’ roll dudes” that all want to do the same thing and make it work. It’s a bit more of a challenge to get a gang of weirdos like Lucky Pineapple together and make some music, especially for that long.

DODDS
Having “Moment in an Empty Street” used repeatedly on “Jersey Shore” is both a highlight and a lowlight for me. It’s really the first time I’ve ever made any amount of money I’ve kept from making music, and I definitely needed it, but also, you know, it’s “Jersey Shore.” The song is actually a very personal one about my eventual death and leaving my wife alone and my lack of belief in any afterlife, so it kind of bummed me out to see it used as background music for monster-people fornicating in a hot tub. But whatever. To quote the scholars: You’ll have that.

BENTON
It’s a band that will never easily be classified or described, and there should be more music like that.

DODDS
I’ve loved being in this band. I love almost all the songs we wrote together and like the ones I don’t love.

Lucky Pineapple with Ultra Pulverize
Friday, May 20
Headliners Music Hall
1386 Lexington Road • 584-8088
www.luckypineapple.com
$8 adv., $10 door; 9 p.m.

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

Neko Case shares her skill

Neko Case has emerged as one of the most compelling, individualistic voices in music today, earning praise for her noir-soaked solo albums and for her work with power-pop collective The New Pornographers. The Washington state native returns to Louisville on Monday.



LEO: Your most recent release came out two years ago. What brings you out on the road again?
Neko Case: Working on new songs and making up some dates that were cancelled earlier last year.

LEO: Where are you happiest — on the road or at home?
NC: Both, as long as I’m feeling productive.

LEO: You’re a big animal advocate. What are some of your favorite animals, or favorite animal/music crossovers?
NC: There aren’t any animals I don’t feel something for. They all have something unique. I don’t think it’s animal music per se, but the Talking Heads always make me feel part of the Animal Kingdom rather than separate.

LEO: You’re a popular Twitterer, or whatever that word is. What do you enjoy about that site that you can’t get from songwriting?
NC: I just like to be myself, which doesn’t come through often when you don’t communicate with your fans directly much. This is a great way to meet like-minded folks who can talk about anything, and also to be a fan. Everyone is on equal footing.

LEO: Your label, Anti, has worked with some great older talents, mostly men. Do you see yourself still going strong in your golden years, like them or Wanda Jackson?
NC: Yes, I have no other marketable skills.

LEO: Can you turn me on to some new music that I might not know about?
NC: Well, we are bringing a band from Portland, Ore., called Y La Bamba with us on the road. I became a fan by hearing the record by accident in a store in Portland. I love them!

LEO: You’ve been through Louisville several times. Have you had any chances to see the city?
NC: I have never gotten to tour around Louisville, but I have had some great food. I hope I get to see a bit more, but it’s hard when you leave at 3 a.m. for another town. Wah!

Neko Case with Y La Bamba
Monday, May 16
Headliners Music Hall
1386 Lexington Road • 584-8088
www.nekocase.com
$25; 8 p.m.

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

Junip turns it down

The Swedish indie rock band Junip is relatively new to American audiences, but the voice of their lead singer and guitarist, José González, is familiar to many. His solo music, a minimalist, modern take on Cat Stevens’ brand of personal folk music, has been popular with discriminating listeners for several years, especially after his recording of the Knife’s “Heartbeat” became known from its use in a TV commercial.



LEO: Junip’s album, Fields, came out almost a year ago. How have your touring experiences been?
José González: This is the third tour we will do on this album. We’re doing a lot of smaller cities that we normally don’t get to now. People in smaller cities tend to be more excited, which is nice. In bigger cities, people see bigger shows every day; they’re more jaded.

LEO: Are you finding that fans of your solo work are coming to see Junip expecting to hear your songs, or some of both?
JG: It’s been half and half. A lot of people who come to the show, many by now have listened to our album. There’s a little bit of yelling sometimes — “Play ‘Heartbeat’!” — I was sort of expecting that. Hopefully as time goes on, that will fade away.

LEO: Do you feel a kinship with someone like Neil Young, alternating between quieter solo work and bigger band music?
JG: Yeah! I don’t know how he does it, but I’m trying to make it work. I tour a lot solo, so it’s a lot of fun to be able to switch it up. It makes solo shows more fun, too.

LEO: Your early musical background was in hardcore punk. Did the other guys come up with the same influences?
JG: Yeah, me and the drummer played in a band in the ’90s. Our keyboard player played in another hardcore band.

LEO: Do you still listen to that style much today?
JG: I don’t listen much anymore, no. Sometimes — I think it depends on what kind of mood you’re in. I don’t really need that high energy anymore. Now that I think about it, I toured with Elliott, from Louisville, for a few weeks, in the late ’90s. I was playing guitar with an indie rock band called Only If You Call Me Jonathan. They were nice guys.

Junip with Acrylics
Saturday, May 14
Headliners Music Hall
1386 Lexington Road • 584-8088
www.junip.net
$12 adv., $15 door; 9 p.m.

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

album review: Hal Dolls

Being easily confused by science, I’ve always been fascinated by special effects. How do they do it? As an obsessive music nerd, I hear a lot of new releases, and I’m always impressed when I hear someone today making a record that sounds like it was recorded a long time ago. I know it has something to do with science stuff like amplifiers and tubes and getting “warm” sounds.



Point being: Hal Dolls is a band of veteran Louisville punks, and their new release sounds like the best record to skate to in 1982. Fans of early-’80s melodic and snotty punks like the Circle Jerks will thrill to the throwback sounds of Bipolaroid. Song titles like “Drunk Phone Blues,” “Asshole” and “What If Barbie Got Fat” should give you an idea of the biting social satire employed here; it’s an entertaining form of expression that never should have faded away. Welcome back to the future, Dolls.

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

album review: Fleet Foxes

Ah, the dreaded curse of the sophomore album. When Fleet Foxes emerged, seemingly out of nowhere, in 2008 with a stunning EP and an instant-classic full-length album, they set a high bar for themselves and for their fans’ expectations. After a wait, they have returned with a follow-up that’s basically more of the same, which is both reassuring and disappointing. Part of what made their first, self-titled album so beloved was the element of surprise they were able to enjoy with their gorgeous, multi-tiered vocal harmonies and inventive song structures.



Helplessness Blues suffers from a lack of inventiveness, a complacent reliance on the basics of their formula. There are few surprises. The only notable experimentation comes in “The Shrine/An Argument,” an eight-minute song whose last two minutes are tarnished by a free-jazz burst that sounds like a duck-bludgeoning. This is a perfect example of a band that might paint their masterpiece on their third album, having learned what works and what fails.

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

Vandervelde and friends’ raw vibe

David Vandervelde has been playing music since he was 14 and gained notice for collaborations with the late Jay Bennett of Wilco. Today, the Michigan native is winning over listeners with his classic-rock attitude, delivered on an indie budget. LEO caught up with him as he neared town for a not-so-traditional Derby weekend bill with fellow rock traditionalists Buffalo Killers.



LEO: You can be a hard act to pin down. You’re on an artsy indie label, collaborate with Nashville’s Bobby Bare Jr., get compared to T. Rex and arena rock... what’s it sound like to you?
Vandervelde: I guess I do get compared to a lot of classic rock bands — Big Star, Tom Petty, Neil Young, even ELO and Fleetwood Mac on occasion. I think these are all good comparisons. I like good songs. I’m influenced mainly by ’70s rock ’n’ roll and pop music, but don’t really sound like just one specific thing. I always feel honored, in a way, to be compared to good music I’m into.

LEO: You’re a one-man band when it comes to instruments you can play. Do you find it hard to employ others to recreate your sounds for you?
V: My last full-length, Waiting for the Sunrise, was largely recorded as a band, either completely or mostly live in the studio playing in the same room. I wanted to capture more of a live kinda vibe on that record, to do something new for me. My first record, The Moonstation House Band, was recorded almost completely alone.
On my full-length work in progress, to be called Vandervelde, it’s mostly live, with the band in my basement, recorded in the analog world — no computers. I find it most enjoyable, right now, to be recording with my best friends (my band) rather than alone. Their involvement in the recording process makes everything feel more raw and real, and of course, easier to make work well live.

LEO: Downloading — good or evil?
V: No way around it, so it doesn’t really matter to me. I like buying records and tapes personally, they sound cooler and are better to look at. I have a single called “More Than You Can Feel” available for free download at www.rcrdlbl.com. It’s actually a rough mix of a song that will end up on the record this fall. I guess downloading is not evil? ... But maybe I’m an evil kinda dude sometimes.

LEO: You moved to Nashville a few years ago after living in Brooklyn. How do the music scenes there compare, for you?
V: I love Nashville. More my style, I suppose. I was only in Brooklyn nine months to live with my lady friend (now my wife). It kinda bugs me when magazines like Rolling Stone and particular music blog sites refer to Nashville as having this new hip local music scene — “best in the country ’cuz we got the Black Keys and Jack White.” Truth is, they never play here. If they do, it’s maybe one or two times a year, so they’re not a part of any real local music scene at all in my mind. I like their music, but not how people make it seem like Nashville is this cool music town now that they live here. I moved here first, damn it! (laughs) I like how Nashville can seem nice and small if I want it to be.

LEO: Have you spent any quality time in Louisville? Do you have any observations about our city?
V: I’ve had really great times in Louisville — got a couple close friends there. Last time I was in town, we went to a giant thrift store that was mind-blowing! Also, your bars are open late. I would like to stay there longer than a day sometime to get more of a true feel for it. Much love for your city!

Vandervelde
with Buffalo Killers
and The Bad Reeds
Thursday, May 5
Zazoo’s Bar & Grill
102 Bauer Ave. • 894-8030
www.myspace.com/davidvandervelde
$12; 9 p.m.

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

Songs and opinions are aplenty at T. Eddie’s

“Your parking sucks, dude,” drawls the 50-something smoking outside T. Eddie’s Bar & Grill.

It’s late, but I have not yet begun to drink; my critic, however, appears to be midway through yet another Friday night at the tavern.

Germantown can be a great place if you’re looking for an unvarnished opinion from a local. The home of approximately one bar for every three households, the area is full of stiff drinks and impolite evenings out with interesting characters; one tends to lose excessive sensitivity pretty soon.

As we enter T. Eddie’s, we’re greeted by the owner, Tom Combs (the name being derived from his full name, Thomas Edward). I soon learn Combs has owned the bar for four years after working 30 years with the U.S. Postal Service. I learn this because, unlike most bars I’ve ever been to, the owner is actually standing there, drink in hand, greeting people. This is a guy who looks like he’s discovered the secret to a happy life.

He introduces me to his daughter, Angie, an equally happy woman who apparently acts as queen and CEO of the bar every Friday and Saturday night, after a week of working as a manager at UPS.

“Our drinks are the cheapest in the whole neighborhood,” brags Tom. “And the coldest, too!” blurts out Angie. She shares that she goes to a rival bar once a week for their “Thursgays” night, “With my gay boyfriend, Ray, and they always put it on ice for me. They know I’m coming!”

I recognize Ray from the local Kroger, where he works, making me feel even more at home.

Tom excuses himself to sing karaoke. His song, “Play That Funky Music, White Boy,” kicks in and Angie explains, “He sings that song all the time. He sang it at my fucking brother’s wedding with V-Groove!”

“We also have the best karaoke in town,” Angie says. “Mike has over 250,000 songs on there. He’s even got the Dead Kennedys, you name it.”

“‘Too Drunk to Fuck’?”

“Huh?” Angie replies.

“The Dead Kennedys song, ‘Too Drunk to Fuck’ — does he have that?” I can’t think of a better song to karaoke at this time.

“I don’t know, maybe,” she says as Ray grabs her. “C’mon, girl, we gotta go sing.” Her karaoke song, perhaps unsurprisingly, is the Rolling Stones’ “Angie.”

Later, as I stumble through my song, Ray is overheard saying, “I’ve been there, man!”

As Ray runs around behind the bar, lifting patient bartender Deena up by her buttocks for MySpace-style photos, I notice there are dozens of $1 bills hanging from the ceiling. The place is mostly decorated in classic dive-bar style — giant Corona parrot, inflatable NASCAR sign — but Tom points with pride to tiles in the floor spelling out the name of the bar. “I got a buddy who works at Louisville Stoneware, did that for me.”

“We’re the best-kept secret in town,” he says, a bit wistfully. Around 1 a.m., he tells me he’s going home for the night. As if on cue, a young woman filling out a white dress in all the right places walks past. He looks at me, winks and says, “I might stay for a minute.”

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

album review: Another 7 Astronauts

Technology has made it much simpler lately to create a brave new world in one’s cramped, debris-strewn studio apartment. Another 7 Astronauts, the vision of world-class drummer J.C. Denison (Lucky Pineapple, Invaders, Cheyenne Marie Mize), is such a world. Granted, it’s not an entirely new world. If you are familiar with modern composers like Brian Eno or Philip Glass, Vangelis’ “Blade Runner” soundtrack or nature films narrated by Morgan Freeman, you already have an idea of what this world sounds like. That doesn’t take anything away from the overall experience of being swept away by Move, however. If anything, it helps prepare listeners for the driving, purposeful sounds of a composer sure of his vision. From urban jungle textures to minimalized hip-hop beats to blissed-out spa treatments, this 20-song collection has plenty of choices for fueling your sonic adventures.

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

album review: Vibrolas

Hard rock and heavy metal fans can be well-informed and quick to champion new favorites. Just as often, however, they can tend to want the same thing over and over — Sabbath riffs and lyrics about hot rods being tireless favorites — with no sudden upgrades to a format that has held up remarkably well for most of the past 40 years. (We’ll pretend like the ’90s weren’t rough.) It can also be a very Louisville tendency, which helps explain the continued popularity of the scene here.



The Vibrolas aren’t breaking any new ground, but their contribution to the form is muscular, nicely groove-based and tuneful. Backing vocals from bassist Leila A. Coppala help distinguish the band from many others in what is often a “boys only” club. In fact, the lone instrumental, “Ass Ventriloquist,” suffers from the absence of Coppala and lead singer Chris Hosner’s vocals. But it’s called “Ass Ventriloquist,” so you get that.

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

Column #30: Elton doesn't excite me much anymore

Elton John is coming to the Kentucky Fried Center. Well, that’s nice, I suppose. Better than the Eagles, at least.

That’s my reaction today, but if this was still 1973, I’d be all, “OMG, you guys! Elton John is coming!!!”

I’m passionate about music, clearly, and I’m the opposite of the person who says, “My favorite type of music? I don’t know, I like all types.” While I do, too, that’s because I spend a lot of time listening to music, thinking about it, researching it.

My favorite periods have included the doo wop of the late ‘50’s urban streets, the free jazz movement in the ‘60s, the outlaw country of the mid-70’s, the punk scene of the late ‘70’s and the indie rock of the recent era.

Pop and hip hop have made great sonic strides in the past decade, thanks to producers like Timbaland and Danger Mouse, but I’m still grateful that the pop of my childhood included Prince, Michael Jackson, Madonna and Cyndi Lauper. Sorry, Katy Perry and the Black Eyed Peas, I just don’t feel you.

If I had to pick one period in music that is my favorite, today, I would say the singer-songwriters of the early ‘70s. A recent edition of PBS’ “American Masters” series focused on L.A.’s Troubadour Club in that era. Some of my favorites – Joni Mitchell, Neil Young, Randy Newman, Jackson Browne, Van Morrison – dominated the club in that era.

While I love that era, the thought of having to endure some of those people in concert today – Elton, Crosby Stills & Nash, James Taylor, Bonnie Raitt, et al. – gives me the shivers.

My parents recently saw folk singers Peter & Paul (Mary died in 2009) and reported back that no one in the audience was younger than 55. How does a room full of affluent AARP members singing “We Shall Overcome” together, during Obama’s presidency, still make sense?

The best art is inspired by the times in which the artist lives. Picasso’s “Guernica” could only have happened at that time, though surely someone is developing an iPhone app that will truly capture the rebel spirit of today’s Jasmine Revolution.

This month, I cut short a trip to Florida so that I could witness the thrill of Lady Gaga’s debut performance at the Bucket. She did not disappoint; it was one of the greatest spectacles I’ve ever experienced.

Her show is a combination of the best elements of tent revival, circus, Broadway and drag show all in one. Seeing her today, at the probable peak of her powers and freshness, is made even more exciting by feeling swept up in her mission of acceptance. It’s a message thankfully becoming increasingly mainstream with forward momentum being seen in marriage equality, military service equality and the popularity of those “Glee” twinks.

The best artists don’t have to be 24 to make an impact. The best have a hunger that is palpable, a need to express themselves that can overcome most obstacles. There’s a guy called Seasick Steve who is putting out a record on Jack White’s Third Man Records soon. He was discovered in 2006 by the British music press – at the age of 65.

His style of drunken uncle blues music made a splash at the South by Southwest festival in Austin last week, like when his fellow bluesmen R.L. Burnside and Junior Kimbrough were discovered in the 1990s, by folks half their age.

There’s no age that’s right or wrong for creativity. Stevie Wonder was known as “Little Stevie” when he emerged at 12 years old. The only problem is, that creativity left him somewhere in the early 1980’s. He was my first concert, but you couldn’t pay me to see him today.

As for ol’ Elton, I still listen to his best music. I appreciate that he, too, helped pave the way for greater tolerance in our society. But he can no longer change my life, or even my plans.

c. 2011 Velocity Weekly

music issue 2011 - Bunny Day and the Mercy Buckets

Bunny Day and the Mercy Buckets, as a name, tells potential listeners a couple of things. First, that they’re not your average rock band – indeed, there’s little that is rockist about them.

You might guess that they’re goofy, quirky, weird. They are, if you think that “normal” music means Jamie Foxx or Nickelback.

Also, if your skills include knowing some freshman-level French and/or enjoying puns, you might assume that this group is not only whimsical but also French-inspired. Their influences include diverse sources like polka, indie rock and, yes, French cabaret and chanson music.

“We've been really good friends for a long time, but we’d never lived in the same city before,” begins Lacey Guthrie, who plays accordion. “We had been courting each other musically. I would go to Lexington and do cover songs with her. Amy moved here, and we decided that it was just gonna happen.”

Now they write their own songs. Banjoist Amy Lee said, “We're good at writing when we're hungover. Sometimes it's together, sometimes it's not. It's hard to write without each other.”

Lee was inspired to begin playing her banjo after an Avett Brothers concert. Scott Avett let her play his instrument briefly, and “I decided that, ‘This is awesome, I want this for Christmas.’”

Guthrie began playing her instrument on “kind of a whim. I already played piano, and I thought they sound really sweet, so I went accordion hunting.” Recently, she bought a saw at Home Depot after hearing one played in an Ugly Casanova song. “I went online and found clips of old men playing them. They were really adorable, so I just learned from that.”

They recorded material for an EP last fall at the now-closed club Skull Alley. Guthrie said, “It was surprisingly difficult. We had some Bulleit bourbon, which we used for percussion.”

Now that the duo are neighbors, it will prove hard to keep them apart.

Lee said, ”If we had a falling out, I would never do music again. I would kill my banjo. I would light her accordion on fire. That's how I feel.”

music issue 2011 - Barefoot Best Friends

From the Chieftains to the Pogues, Celtic folk music has often been seen as a rugged, manly musical genre. Songs about the potato famine and The Troubles depict a rough life in a beautiful land.

Though La Grange is a lovely town in Oldham County, there’s little that is rough, rugged or manly about the Barefoot Best Friends. Louisville’s youngest group plays a lively, mostly instrumental strain of the music which reveals its role as a progenitor of Bluegrass music. The all-female members – Christina, Isabelle, Emmaly, Ellie, Lily and Jessie - range in age from 10 to 17.

The BBF girls, hailing from four families, have been BFFs for several years. They began playing together while working on a project for disability awareness in school, said Patti Beth Miller, mother of Ellie and Jessie.

“Three summers ago,” Miller said, “I was selling flowers at the La Grange Farmers Market. I suggested that if they played there next to me, they might get tips. So they started looking for music that they would all enjoy playing together.”

The girls share an appreciation for Celtic and mountain music, and are generally uninterested in pop music. “Barefoot Best Friends is fiddle music, more like dance music,” relates 13-year-old Emmaly, a violinist. During the nice months, they continue to perform at the Farmers Market, in addition to other performances around the region.

Several of the parents are musicians, and often played public radio while driving the girls around. “I heard banjo on the radio, and I asked my dad what it was,” said her 10-year-old sister Christina. What she heard was “Snowden’s Jig,” a old-timey string song by the Carolina Chocolate Drops.

“I decided I was going to learn, so I got lessons. “ Initially trained on piano, she also plays accordion, washboard and now, “banjo is pretty easy,” she said. “I have the hang of it. I try to practice every day, but it doesn't always work out that way.”

As to what the future might bring, the younger girls have voted to bring in a new member. The 16-year-old family friend, who also plays violin, is a boy.

Ten-year-old Christina mused, “I don't know if I'll make a career out of it, but I'll keep on playing as long as I can.”

c. 2011 Velocity Weekly

music issue 2011 - Sandpaper Dolls

When "Don't Worry, Be Happy" hit the pop charts in 1988, many Americans were introduced to A cappella singing – and quickly dismissed it as a goofy trick. Bobby McFerrin's overly optimistic song nonetheless exposed an approach to pop music that continues today in unexpected places - like Louisville.

In an era when even the most obviously sexy pop group has little chance of succeeding in the music business, three women have joined to sing together, unencumbered by instruments that need to be played outside of one's own body, and unconcerned about the business of the music business.

The Sandpaper Dolls were all veterans of the local music scene when they met each other at downtown's late Jazz Factory. Suki Anderson worked there and had sung with the soul group a.m. Sunday. Amber Estes sang with the jazz groups Liberation Prophecy and the Todd Hildreth Trio. Rebecca Dennison sang with folk singer Jamie Barnes.

Anderson approached Estes about working together. Estes said, “We slowly peeled members and instruments away until we were left with just the voice. We decided on an A cappella trio and had a couple of people in mind, but then realized, who has a better voice than Rebecca? So we got together and sang in Suki's dining room and made animal noises until we had a band.”

In addition to more obvious vocal inspirations - The Staple Singers, The Pointer Singers, The Bulgarian Woman's Choir - the women have also been encouraged by composer Philip Glass, deep soul from Donny Hathaway to the Budos Band, and the experimentation of off-center pop artists like Bjork and Tom Waits.

They self-released a full-length live album, “Live at 21C,” recorded in the downtown hotel’s atrium, in 2009. Future goals include not only a studio album and touring, but also, according to Estes, “creating a silent movie soundtrack and forming a creepy choir.”

c. 2011 Velocity Weekly

Column #29: The Bonnaroo banner should help Forecastle

Previously on “Mid-Sized Middle-American City”: A young man with a dream throws a
music party in a park. More like a barbecue than Lollapalooza, it would grow into a major festival.

Last month, that young man saw his decade of hard work pay off, selling into the bigger and more successful Bonnaroo Festival of Tennessee.

Next year, the Forecastle Festival — the little festival that would — will be reborn as a Bonnaroo farm team. I, for one, am very happy about this development.

It's no secret to devoted readers that I have written about Captain J.K. McKnight and his Forecastle Festival before, and have committed the crime of suggesting that
some aspects of the fest were less than perfect. There is a difference between a
publicist and a critic, and my job was the latter.

There is also a difference between acting as though everything that is made here is
wonderful — like a parent with a 4-year-old who has learned to tie her own shoes —
and allowing for the possibility that you, me or the other guy might have room for
growth.

Forecastle, which I believe comes from the Native American word for “glowstick,” has
been very enjoyable at times. I have attended three of the festivals, bought art and enjoyed performances by many local bands as well as out-of-towners such as
Sleater-Kinney, Mucca Pazza and Girl Talk.

I haven't been since 2008. That summer, as the lineup became more diverse and a
mbitious, it also became (in my opinion) more schizophrenic and unfocused.

In this magazine, I wrote about that. What I said, for the record, was that I was looking forward to two-thirds of the bands, and less enthused about the remaining third.

Some folks, like the understandably frustrated Captain McKnight, were not
amused. Others were.

I haven't been back mostly because I'm less inclined today to spend a lot of money
to see bands that I like at 1, 4 and 10 p.m. while younger people all around me are
tweaking and tweeting, and having to leave and come back to ignore bands I don't
care about.

I want Forecastle to succeed, not merely try and fail. I want everybody in Louisville to succeed, and I want to like everything — don't you? It would certainly make my life more exciting. But as much as I would like to have the best of everything right outside my door, I don't always.

I am fortunate — in my neighborhood there's a great bakery, a great coffee shop,
some wonderful restaurants and about 109 bars. But when it comes to music festivals,
Forecastle is not yet up there with Lollapalooza, Pitchfork, Coachella or
Bonnaroo.

This new deal with the Bonnaroo folks should give the Captain and his merry crew
the resources to book bigger, better bands. Instead of a stale headliner like De
La Soul or what's left of Smashing Pumpkins, maybe now Louisville will now
be able to land a festival headliner like Radiohead or Eminem.

Will it stay in the concrete fields of downtown, or move to a farm so the
tourists can visit downtown museums without hearing DJs dropping banging club
beats nearby?

Who's going to come here that's never been? Will devoted music fans fly in from
overseas and discover a new love for bourbon? (I hope so — my wedding
reception alone converted a handful of people into bourbon lovers.)

I'm excited to wake up one day next year and hear all about the new model Forecastle. I think that it will be a good thing — a better thing — both for music
and for further proving that Louisville is a great place to live.

c. 2011 Velocity Weekly

Column #28: It's getting harder to find me on TV

A recent story in Entertainment Weekly detailed the history of gay teens on TV, and proclaimed "Glee" as a bold new step forward in their representation. Every year, various minority groups issue reports about their representation on TV, usually to lament how few of them are depicted as successful, mainstream Americans.

So, of course, this got me thinking: How well am I represented on TV?

Who, or what, am I? Do I fit neatly into a multi-racial, or gender-specific, or handicapable box?

Well, I was raised in a Jewish family, though I am not personally religious today. I grew up in Florida, though I have since claimed Louisville as my adoptive home.

I am male, heterosexual, and married to a woman. I am co-parenting three cats, who range from adorable to sassy. I am pursuing higher education, and a part-time journalist, and sometimes I book art shows and music concerts around town.

My interests include the various arts, and good food and drink. Uhh, that's about it, actually. Despite my orientation, sports haven't done much for me since I was in grade school.

So where are there people like me on TV? The most obvious example would be IFC's "Portlandia," the wickedly astute satire of all things hip, organic and counter cultural. Though I can laugh at parts of myself, I think it's safe to say that I am not one of the dumpster divers or lesbian bookstore denizens that they focus on.

MTV's "My Life As Liz" offers much needed respite from the pregnant moms and juiced up self-tanners who otherwise dominate that channel. In season one of this faux reality show, we met Liz, a smart, sarcastic teen in a small town who does battle with the mean girls. In season two, she's made the leap to the big city, where there are more like her, though her problems remain much the same.

I can see Liz as an 18-year-old girl version of a younger me, and though she may be a more idealized version of younger me than "Beavis and Butt-head", it's still nice to see that she has a place on the small screen.

NBC's "Parenthood" has a similarly sarcastic and misunderstood teen girl in Amber, who, as in real life, is frequently shuffled to the background by her family, under the assumption that she can take care of herself as they fight about the other children or their jobs.

HBO's "Treme" offers lots of music, and music lovers, and chefs and food lovers, though Steve Zahn's grating performance as a self-centered DJ is irksome. Lance Robertson as DJ Lance Rock, is much more enjoyable on Nick Jr.'s "Yo Gabba Gabba!," though, again, less like me than I'd like. The goofy rapper Biz Markie also makes appearances, as does nerdy music legend Mark Mothersbaugh of Devo. Sadly, I am probably more like Brobee, the program's confused little green weirdo monster, or whatever he is.

After that, it gets harder to find me on TV. Higher education is represented by a pair of law school students on ABC Family's "Greek," though law is far from my field of studies, and the rest of the cast consists of fraternity and sorority members. AMC's "Mad Men" had a bearded beatnik character who was, predictably, a bit obnoxious and eventually written out.

Fox's "House, M.D." has two Jewish characters who actually look like many people in my family, but otherwise the show avoids cliches in their depiction. Jennifer Carpenter of Showtime's "Dexter" is a native Louisvillian pretending to be a native Floridian, which is at least relatable.

Also, I have been told that I look like one of the "Big Bang Theory" nerds, which is great for my self-esteem.

So, the 2010-11 season has been a so-so time in the history of me on primetime TV. Let's hope that next year we'll see fewer middle-class white guys, and more people like me.

c. 2011 Velocity Weekly

Gen Next: Timothy Tucker

After graduating from the Sullivan University culinary program in 1998, Timothy Tucker worked at upscale restaurants across the country. He was on a quick path to "Top Chef" status.

But in 2005, he veered off onto a different path when he took a job at the Salvation Army's Center of Hope. He would spend the next five years serving meals to the homeless and training at-risk students how to run a kitchen. During his tenure, the program drew positive press from ABC News, CNN and USA Today.

Last year, Tucker, 35, was selected last year by Slow Food USA to attend their conference in Torino, Italy. Tucker and his colleagues exchanged ideas about sustainability, green practices, school system nutrition, rooftop gardens – or, as Tucker sums it up, “all that good stuff.”

Tucker had planned to be gone for a month, but when the Salvation Army couldn’t give him the time off, he left the Center of Hope and ended up spending months traveling throughout Italy, Spain and the Netherlands.

“I became a couch surfer, cooking for parties in exchange for a place to sleep each night,” he said.

In Viterbo, an hour north of Rome, he harvested olive oil and apprenticed with a local chef who made everything from scratch, from bread to liquor. “It was great,” Tucker said, “I didn’t get paid but I got to stay in paradise for free.”

After trying to learn the cuisine as much as he could in Italy and Spain, Tucker found himself in Amsterdam. There, he found many connections between the Dutch and ours, and marveled at their love for fast food – “French fries, waffles, big burgers, they love it all. It’s the opposite of the food pride people have in Italy, where everyone has a super love for making it themselves, and take serious pride in their food.”

Back home in Louisville, Tucker is working on a book about the way food can change lives and is working with an agent to find a publisher. “It’s about inspiration," he said, "why it’s important to get good food, getting good food in institutions and to stop saying that we can’t do it."

While at the Center of Hope, Tucker said he helped dozens of people land jobs or scholarships in the culinary field. One of them, he said, landed a full ride to study at Sullivan.

He's now looking for the next project that blends his skills.

“I’ve been having a renewal of my love for food. It is my passion, and I want to continue to work in food activism.”

c. 2011 Velocity Weekly

Column #27: An old-school road trip, one tune at a time

When I was younger, I was not always happy. I found some solace for my suburban frustrations in loud, aggressive music – punk, avant-garde noise and, mostly, heavy metal. I was an angry teen boy in central Florida at a, well, happy time for fans of heavy music. Napalm Death bleated, “You suffer!” and I nodded in agreement as I set the dinner table, miserable in the knowledge that I still needed to finish my homework.

In hindsight, I probably would have spent my time more wisely becoming a Goth. As some of my suffering came from a lackluster social life, posing as a Goth would have put me in closer proximity to girls. Sure, most lacked the looks and charm of the late ‘80’s Winona Ryder model, but it would have been good practice.

As I matured, I began to realize that most civilized young ladies don’t necessarily respond well to Slayer, Overkill or Carcass. (Their loss). I learned that while most well-bred gals don’t always need to be wooed with Nat ‘King’ Cole, the latter was always better than a romantic setting of dinner, candles, flowers and Pantera.

If the woman I married had had a similar interest in such music, it wouldn’t be a problem. We could share a delightful bubble bath while enjoying the sounds of Morbid Angel together. However, she is a grown woman, not an angry boy, and therefore is more interested in, say, The Shins or the Arcade Fire when it comes to listening to music for pleasure.

It’s not a problem, really, because I, too, am an adult, now, and notably less aggressive these days. If I need a fix of “Reign in Blood,” it’s easily accessed online; I don’t need to spend much time anymore with such expression. Plus, I’ve always been a music fan first; even when I subscribed to “Metal Maniacs,” I also listened to R.E.M., Willie Nelson, Ice Cube and lots of other different music.

In too many years of bad dating, I eventually learned this as well as other lessons, I guess, because someone married this, after all. While this distinction between the genders is, of course, not always so simple – I have 30-something female friends, who, unlike me, would still rather listen to Bad Brains than Joni Mitchell – I’ve found it to be fairly consistent.

In recent years, I’ve had another love – the “shuffle” button. Like many human Americans, my attention span has decreased over the past decade, thanks to evil, wonderful technology. I keep my music moving, sometimes unable to stay on a single song for too long. I’ve never wanted to be That Guy, the one who insists that “You have to hear this!,” plays a record for 20 seconds, then gets impatient and says, “No, wait! You need to hear this instead,” jumping from one to another like Jennifer Aniston picking a boyfriend.

So on a recent road trip to Chicago, I decided to try going back in time and selecting music the way the creator intended – one album at a time. The notion began simply enough; I thought 35 minutes of prime Beatles would get us moving in good spirits. Well, “Rubber Soul” led to the Rolling Stones’ “Exile on Main Street,” which, though a bit thick of a work for such a drive, still helped us push past the 2-hour mark.

I felt a need to keep it lighter, and skipped over Dylan for early Elton John. Fleetwood Mac would’ve been next but the lady at the lunch spot had the same idea, so the Zombies got moved up, which inspired Elliott Smith, a shared favorite.

The White Stripes proved to be “too garage-y,” or noisy, for delicate ears, and Radiohead proved too subtle for the highway, but mostly, it proved to be a successful attempt to keep two people content at the same time. Glenn Danzig may not be any happier now, but I am, and that’s all I ever wanted.

c. 2011 Velocity Weekly

Column #26: Don't know much about astronomy - and that's OK

As I left class for the final time last month, I was filled with mixed emotions. At 36 years old, I probably should have been leaving the class that I had been teaching. Instead, some “interesting” life choices along the way had left me playing catch up on the road to conventional adulthood.

My iPod shuffle landed on “A New Life” by the Marshall Tucker Band, and it fed my confusion. My new life – marriage, domesticity, etc. – had led me back to college to complete a degree, as I now had a future that I could believe in. As such, graduating didn’t mean that I would be moving away, or leaving anyone behind.

Though I had spent the past two years with a regular crew of fellow students all pursuing the same courses, it certainly wasn’t the college experience as seen in “Animal House”. Occasionally, I would even need to turn down invitations to “study” with my colleagues at the New Albanian Brewing Company because, at the moment, I had other responsibilities that my 22-year-old peers did not share. (At other times, however, such “studying” was unavoidable).

I had tasted the classic college life the first time around, and it didn’t agree with me then. At 18, I had no interest in alcohol, and I was more likely to make a friend in a bookstore than in a frat. A suburban upbringing made me hungry to explore a big city, which left less time for classes. I had little interest in subjects that I didn’t enjoy – math and science – and indulged in elective classes such as Italian cinema.

While I continue to argue that my work since – game show winner, pop culture journalist – has benefited from studying the works of Fellini, Rossellini and De Sica, it didn’t help me get closer to an undergrad degree. Part of returning to school at 34 meant accepting the harsh reality that I still had plenty of non-fun classes left to fulfill.

Our mayor’s office wants to get 55,000 more Louisvillians to earn their degree in the next decade. As I have now done so, you’re welcome, folks – only 54,999 left. No one asked me to write about this; in fact, part of why I am writing is to complain about how I would like to see our higher education system overhauled.

I have 30-something friends who have told me that they won’t go back just because they don’t want to make up requirements in subjects that don’t interest them or benefit them. I don’t disagree with them. To my understanding, the point of receiving a general college education about many unconnected subjects is that most 18-year-olds don’t yet know what they’re good at, or what they enjoy doing.

For those “non-traditional” students who return to college past, let’s say, 25, who know that we want to be a nurse or an IT expert, can someone please start a college that doesn’t require us to learn a foreign language? Does a 43-year-old who wants to teach history need to go back to learn more about science?

Are there adults who can’t buy groceries or pay their bills just because they didn’t learn enough math by the time they left high school? (The answer: no). If your job requires a working knowledge of higher math, then let’s hope you already had such knowledge before your boss hired you.

I realize that this is all about money. However, many more people might give lots more money to whomever can give them a degree that doesn’t require spending three years on miscellaneous banalities.

The person who cuts my hair went to hair cutting school at 18, and has enjoyed a fruitful career of cutting hair since graduation from that school. She knows little about Astronomy, and is doing fine.

My college Spanish professor learned more about speaking Spanish by summering in Argentina than she did from a textbook. She probably also couldn’t tell you much about Astronomy.

c. 2011 Velocity Weekly