Going there with Henry Rollins

Punk icon-turned-multimedia explorer travels the planet



Henry Lawrence Garfield never could have guessed his life would turn out this way. Born in Washington, D.C., on Feb. 13, 1961, Garfield battled an abusive father, bullying at school and a long stint on Ritalin meant to curb his subsequent acting out. Books and music helped Garfield cope with a lonely childhood. He began weightlifting and singing with punk bands, and changed his name to Henry Rollins as part of his self-reinvention. A friendship with the Los Angeles-based band Black Flag, begun in the pre-Internet style of exchanging letters, led him to move west and join them as their singer in 1981.

Until their 1986 breakup, Black Flag blazed a trail across North America, helping create an underground music network that hadn’t existed before — taking over VFW halls, warehouses, homes, Chinese restaurants and clubs that welcomed the scary, dirty punks no one else wanted. Though the band has influenced many since, they were ultimately less important musically than culturally, building a community that continues to thrive today — locally, from Mag Bar and the late Skull Alley to house shows in the city and suburbs.

In the pre-blog, pre-Twitter world, young punks angry about the president, global issues like terrorism or nuclear destruction, or the tyranny of their own mothers were more prone to expressing themselves through a type of music that still exists, though many — Rollins included — have since found new avenues through which to share their thoughts.

Even before the band split, Rollins had started performing as a spoken-word artist: part storyteller, part comedian, part lecturer. He also began releasing spoken-word albums and authoring books. After Black Flag disbanded, Rollins started his own Rollins Band. The path laid by his generation resulted in the Alternative Nation that made stars of Nirvana and others, and the Rollins Band’s video for “Liar” played often on MTV. He began branching out into more overtly commercial ventures, taking acting roles and voiceovers for ads and video games. His 1994 Black Flag memoir, “Get in the Van,” has become required reading for freshmen rockers.

As his musical career ran out of steam, spoken-word became Rollins’ primary endeavor, though he continues to pursue a wide range of other work. In recent years, he hosted the chat show “The Henry Rollins Show” on cable channel IFC and documentaries for National Geographic, acted in movies and on the series “Sons of Anarchy,” and now writes a column for the LA Weekly and presents a weekly show on the influential public radio station KCRW.

“I just reckon life is short, and I come from minimum-wage work, so I have no illusions about where I come from, or what I’m really suited to do,” he tells LEO. “I hit it with immigrant zeal. So-and-so says, ‘Hey, would you fly to New York for a single day and work on a TV show?’ — ‘Yeah, I’ll do that!’ I’ll fly for no money,” he laughs, “and basically do that thing just to ring the bell, you know?”

His latest book, “Occupants,” released last fall, is yet another new gig for Rollins. It’s a collection of vivid photographs he took over the past decade, in far-flung lands such as Afghanistan, Cambodia, Indonesia, Saudi Arabia and Israel. In true Rollins form, the photographs are paired with pissed-off commentary about what he has witnessed on his travels far off the tourist path. Though his younger self documented his own internal struggles, Rollins has matured to document others and their realities.

Last month, Rollins told the Washington City Paper in D.C., “Basically, human compassion inspires a lot of my ire. Just seeing people get the short end of the deal.” One needn’t look far into his personal story to see why he feels compelled to shine a light on injustice.

He tells LEO, “I find the human form to be very beautiful. People are interesting-looking creatures to me … At the risk of sounding like the xenophobic, Rudyard Kipling type — ‘All these people are very beautiful. I have five in a box in my backyard.’ — I’m not trying to say that,” he clarifies. “With this book, I’m just trying to close the gap between the viewer and these people … I shoot with a wide lens, primarily, which forces me to get a portrait where I’m, like, a foot away from the person. You’ve got to get really up close and personal and engage. Say ‘Hi, can I take your photo?’ You can’t be sneaky and just grab a shot,” says the never-married 51-year-old, who admits he handles big issues better than intimate relationships.

“You’ve got to walk over there and say, ‘I’d like to do this.’ … That’s what the book is basically about. The writing, which is the hard part of the book, it’s very angry, and it’s me trying to stick it to The Man as best I can.”

Today we get our information from a wide variety of sources, all the time, yet from a distance. Rollins has a quenchless thirst for knowledge and has made a career — a life — out of going to the places he’s curious about, touring often with the USO when not going solo. “It definitely gives you a new insight into America, America’s foreign policy, globalization, global climate change … it’s not like what you read in a book — it’s real. You’re walking through it, you’re smelling it, you’re dealing with it,” he says. “I really crave that kind of information, and that kind of reality, so I go to these places. You know, I read a lot of books, or I try. And no matter what book I read on a country, it’s never as vivid or as full of information as actually going to the place and getting my information that way.”

During our interview, Rollins discourses at length without losing focus, sharing his view of international travel like a cross between Anthony Bourdain and Al Gore, with a touch of Bill Maher — preaching a way of life that is out of reach for many, yet articulating his perspective in a way that is both educational and entertaining.

The need to travel …

Henry Rollins: I think all Americans, if they can, should get a passport and travel. I know that’s kind of like liquid cash. It’s not car payments and house payments; at this point, it’d be out of reach for some Americans to go travel, because they’ve got to pay for real-world stuff.

But if it’s at all possible, ideally, Americans should travel. They should get out and see stuff. They should go to India, a part of Africa, or go to southeast Asia to see what the Vietnam War looks like 40-some-years on … it may make you think differently about people, perhaps.

LEO: So, you’re not going to let people off the hook and say it’s an OK substitute to just buy your book or watch you on TV, right?

HR: Oh, no, I wouldn’t let them off the hook by just looking at my book! I just think there’s so much to be gained when you get out of the zone of familiarity. And me, too, that’s why I travel — to force myself out of that which I know. Like, I can go to the grocery store I go to a couple of nights a week, and I buy the same food every time. I can close my eyes, walk through that place and, if nothing’s in my way, I can walk through it like a lab rat and get the biscuit.

I like, personally, to be in situations where you get out of the hotel or wherever you’re at, like, “OK, this is all pretty confusing …” You just need to start using your mind. It makes me feel alive again! I realize how on autopilot I can get. Even in a different American city, just because it’s all so familiar. My eyes have brain-mapped the color of a Starbucks logo so I can see half of one of the letters two blocks away from the corner of my eye. And so can you. You might not even want to go in there, but you know what you’re looking at, even if you’re not looking at it.

From Darfur to Dasani …

HR: I think people are done a disservice when — you are living in a global ecological setting; if there’s a water shortage over there, at some point that water shortage — or that water “inconvenience” — will be reaching you. I got a letter today from an agency I work with that drills water wells, and they said, “OK, this part of, basically the Darfur area, they lost 500 kids to malaria last month because of bad water.” These people now walking several miles to get water, it’s muddy water, they’re getting sick from it, and the water situation is so bad now, monkeys are attacking women carrying buckets of water and taking the water. Anything like that, by the time it gets to the Western world, it just means your Dasani water is 7 cents more per bottle ... you’ll never notice. The end of the lash that cuts open, that’s western Sudan, where it kills 500 kids.

That happens every time with every resource, from oil to water, and I’m not saying you should lose sleep and feel guilty all the time because you’re a big fat American and you suck. I’m not trying to put that across at all. I’m just trying to say that if you get out in real life and see this, it perhaps might make you think differently about your meditational shower, your swimming pool, your 4 gallons of water to shave because you leave the water on because you’re too lazy to turn it off while you shaved your face, and you don’t need the water that’s going down the drain — things like that. That’s one of the reasons I travel.

LEO: Is it fair to say that you still feel optimistic about humanity?

HR: Yeah! Absolutely. More than ever! I mean, you see these people bearing up under circumstances that — you wonder how you would do. Because it’s so seemingly inhuman … yet the kids seem to be happy. The adults seem to be buoyant and resilient, and they don’t want your pity. They wonder, at least in my opinion, what you’re looking at. When you’re going, “Awww,” they’re going, “What are you saying ‘Awww’ for?” They blow by you, like, “Well, good luck with your pity, but we’re busy living.” So I look at these situations in all these different ways. It’s certainly mind-blowing for me.

Humans will persevere …

HR: One day, I was walking down the streets of Madagascar, in Antananarivo. The city center has a lot of flies, a lot of food that could probably make you real sick, and I thought, “Can I do this? Pretend I don’t have the Antananarivo Hilton to walk back to and eat in? Can I walk into any of these stalls and eat this food?” There’s flies covering everything, it’s kind of nightmarish. I’m, like, “Damn, man, I wonder, how many days can I hack it here?” And you see everyone else … you’re just kind of in the way. They’re just getting on with it. So, humans will persevere through anything. Even a nuclear holocaust, there’ll still be a few crawling around afterwards. Somehow they’ll get by, they’ll figure it out … It makes you realize how tough you’re not. These people who think they’re tough guys, they got a tattoo and an attitude and a big car or whatever — I think of parts of India I’ve seen, where the pollution and the filth is so monumental, you’ve really got to be careful what you walk in, walk on, and make contact with.

A city of garbage …

HR: I’ve been to India a few times. I was there early this year shooting a documentary with National Geographic and, to get to one point, we had to get through another, and the place we had to get through was literally a city of garbage. It’s where garbage companies go to dump their garbage, where it’s processed and burned and gone through. It’s these clouds of smoke, and just, literally, kilometers of mountains of trash. And it blows everywhere. So the streets are covered with trash, there’s trash floating in the water, these people are picking plastic out of it and burning parts of it — you see what deregulation looks like. So, let’s take Ron Paul over there and really see what this looks like. We can take all those great Southern Bloc senators who apparently love Ayn Rand and want to get rid of the EPA and go, “Here’s what it looks like … You want to put that in your backyard? Have all your kids come out with four eyes? OK! You go ahead with that.”

That’s what I learned from traveling, and that’s the anger that moves me when I see these photos.

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

The Bro is back in town

After traveling around for a while lost in those Midwestern woods, prodigal son and ex-Chemic leader Scott Kirkpatrick has returned with a new Bro. Stephen album of quiet folk music, Baptist Girls. Next week he’ll be traveling again, this time to Austin, Texas, for South by Southwest, where album guest vocalist and violinist Cheyenne Marie Mize might just sit in with him. Before he leaves, though, Kirkpatrick will perform at his day job.

LEO: Tell me about your early days in the Louisville music scene.

Scott Kirkpatrick: Well, the early days for me are definitely the times I spent playing at open mic nights at Molly Malone’s with guys like Warren Ray and Jamie Barnes. I definitely learned how to be a disciplined songwriter by doing that, and always having the push to present new and better songs every week. It was a great way to start things.

Eventually, I wanted to separate myself a bit from the open-mic scene; I recorded the Chemic record, and we played a million shows around and out of town, at places like The Rud, The Pour Haus, Skull Alley and The 930.

As a listener, the early days were a little different … I definitely miss going out to see The Merediths, The Pine Club, Reading, etc., and I will never forget buying my first Louisville Is for Lovers record and hearing Jamie Barnes’ “Red Prescription” for the first time. That definitely changed things for me.

There were definitely quite a few missteps along the way through all of that. I think one of the biggest missteps I made was being pretty shy and having a hard time feeling connected to the rest of the Louisville music scene. I definitely wish I would have been more involved with other cool local bands. I wouldn’t be surprised if I was perceived as a jerk or something, but I hope not.

The other main misstep that comes to mind is being a really poor communicator and letting down all of the guys who were in and out of Chemic by not expressing myself or knowing what I wanted. The dissolution of that band was pretty traumatic for me, actually. I was young and made a lot of mistakes, but I was always doing the best I could. I guess it’s just hard to see the big picture when you feel like everything is moving around you so quickly.

LEO: How did you get hooked up with the Crossroads of America label in Bloomington? What do they do to help you?

SK: I got hooked up with them when I set up a show at the Old Louisville Coffeehouse back in 2006 or so. After an abysmally attended show, they came back to my apartment for pizza, and we really connected over pizza. They really liked my band Chemic, and I loved their bands, so we wanted to work together somehow. I eventually decided to let them handle the digital sales of the Chemic record Fever on the Forest Floor. After Chemic called it quits, they were excited to have Bro. Stephen on board, and it worked out perfectly ...

First and foremost, they are the most supportive and encouraging group of folks, who are always there to love on me when I need it, or let me sleep in their spare room or play in my band when needed, or a number of similar things. They’ve fostered a creative community that I’m thrilled to be a part of. From a business end, they help with distro, licensing, manufacturing, booking, PR and all that good stuff. Also, Mike Adams recorded and produced Baptist Girls, so that’s obviously a big deal.

LEO: What else do you do for work and/or fun?

SK: I moved back to Louisville around Thanksgiving and have been working at Rye on Market since December, which has honestly been the best job I’ve ever had. I’m tending bar there, and it is really satisfying being in a place that is doing such incredible work while pushing me as a worker and simultaneously being infinitely supportive of who I am.

Bro. Stephen with Joan Shelley
Sunday, March 11
Rye on Market
900 E. Market St. • 749-6200
facebook.com/BrotherStephen
$15 (includes some apps); 7 p.m.

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

Old time and right now

The Pee Wee Valley-based quartet Whiskey Bent Valley is releasing its second album, also called Whiskey Bent Valley, with concerts Friday at the Shepherdsville Music Barn and Saturday at Kenna’s Korner. LEO talks to guitar/banjo/harmonica man Mason Dixon.

LEO: Tell me about your new album.

Mason Dixon: Our new album is a true sound of where this band has been and went over the last five or six years. It has our take on old-time mountain music, the stuff we have grown up around and love to share with new people each and every time we take the stage. It has over 10 tracks on it, most original, some from the early 1900s … very fiddle- and banjo-driven with a high-energy feel … I just wanted a hard-driving old-time record, full of blazing fiddle and foot-stompin’ good times.

LEO: Outside of Kentucky, do you encounter audience members who expect a certain hillbilly stereotype?

MD: When we go out of the state and play, we always get a great reaction from folks. Some people say, “Now, that’s really mountain music,” or “These boys are the real deal hillbillies (laughs).” It’s fun to play off of.

LEO: Your wardrobe — how do you match garments with music?

MD: We have always, for the most part, dressed how we do now — nothing has really changed that. We don’t just play old-time music, we live it every day. Some of us buy and sell junk on the side, going to auctions and estate sales. We just love finding the old-time stuff.

LEO: To beard or not to beard?

MD: To beard is the answer. We all have beards besides Leroy. We get a lot of comments on the music, the clothes and the beards. It makes for a true, honest feel for what we are doing.

WBV also play on April 5 with Ralph Stanley at Headliners. Check out whiskeybentvalley.tumblr.com.

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

The LEO interview: Rock ‘n’ Roll comedian Andrew Dice Clay

Andrew Dice Clay was a huge comedy star briefly in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s, playing to crowds of 10,000 at his peak. His fans turned away almost as quickly as they embraced him, though; while he was a shocking and unexpected comedian, at first, in tune with a harsh post-Reagan cultural spirit, the bullying style of much of his material and attitude did not endear him to a mainstream audience once they realized that he lacked a more dimensional, relatable side to his persona, especially as his first starring movie, The Adventures of Ford Fairlane, bombed and a kinder, gentler America took hold. His one booking as a guest host of “Saturday Night Live” met with protests from cast member Nora Dunn and guest musical act Sinead O’Connor, who objected to the misogyny in his act. Dice never went away, though, continuing to perform stand-up to smaller crowds, and last summer, acting in an arc of HBO’s “Entourage,” a job that could have helped his career more had the series not been limping through its final season, years past its commercial and critical acclaim.

Andrew Dice Clay performs at The Improv on Thursday, March 1st, at 7 and 9:30 p.m., with Jim Florentine and Don Jamieson, co-hosts of VH1 Classic’s “That Metal Show”.

LEO: “Entourage” was a high-profile return to a large audience for you. How have you capitalized on that? Has that brought more acting work, helped with your stand-up audience?
ADC: First of all, to have a recurring role on one of the best shows ever on television was unbelievable! Definitely picked up some new fans along the way and get the old ones happy. After “Entourage,” I did a guest shot on “Raising Hope,” once again playing myself — I guess everyone in Hollywood thinks that’s my range.

LEO: In an interview I read from 2009, you were happily banging lots of ladies and didn’t want to be tied down. Now, last I heard, you’re married to a wonderful woman. How did she change your perspective?
ADC: As you know there is a difference between sex and love. When I met Valerie, it was most definitely love at first sight. Plus, the sex is pretty amazing!

LEO: According to media hype, Sinead O’Connor has been making a comeback lately, too. How do you feel about her now, and the way her life and career has progressed?
ADC: I don’t think about that bald chick for a minute. I won’t even dignify her by saying her name. She tried to get some cheap publicity by using my name and still it wouldn’t help her career.

LEO: Your act is full of thoughts that many people have, yet are afraid to express — but comedy is supposed to be full of people saying those kind of things. Why is your act so unique, after all these years?
ADC: I could name countless comedians who tried to copy me, but they all come off as cheap imitations. Simply: I am the best fucking rock ‘n’ roll comedian. I don’t care about all this PC shit — I just know how to make people laugh better and louder than anyone else.

LEO: You are Jewish, by birth, though many think you’re Italian-American. Which would you rather be, or have people think you are?
ADC: Good question, never that heard one before. If people want to think that Andrew Dice Clay is Italian, that’s fine by me. But all they had to do is Google me, and you will know I was born Andrew Silverstein. So, to answer your question — beneath the leather jacket is a nice Jewish boy from Brooklyn.

LEO: Your son has begun a stand-up career, as well as a music career. How has he been inspired by your career?
ADC: I think show business is an exciting career, and it’s been in my son Max’s life since the day he was born. He does play the drums, which he learned from me, and is probably better than I am. As for stand-up, the only real advice I gave him was to be himself on stage — don’t try to do what I do on stage. And if you watch him, he’s coming into his own, he’s like an edgy Seinfeld.

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

Seeing sounds

Drummer Ben Sears’ first solo art show opens on March 3 at Ultra Pop! LEO asked him about his dual identities.

LEO: How did you learn to make art?

Ben Sears: I was always drawing and building things as a kid. My parents are both really creative and awesome people, so they noticed what I was up to and have supported me ever since.

LEO: Do you prefer museum art or street art?

BS: Is there much difference between museum and street art in the art world these days? If you are asking about old and new art, then I have an appreciation for both. I get just as much inspiration from Gustave Courbet as I do from David Choe. If something looks good or has a cool idea behind it, I’m into it.

LEO: What’s the connection, for you, between art and music?

BS: If I’m not making something, then I feel like I’m wasting my time, so playing music is a great way to make something when I can’t draw.

LEO: Do you hope to work more in art or music through the years?

BS: Art and music have always gone hand in hand with me. I don’t see any reason to not continue doing both as much and as long as I possibly can.

LEO: What band(s) are you playing with now?

BS: I play drums in Black God, and recently started another band called WHIPS/CHAINS. Both will have records out soon.

LEO: Who are some musicians, artists or other Louisvillians who inspire you?

BS: Honest, genuine, hardworking people always inspire me. My girlfriend and my ferret are the ones who look at my work the most and give me the best feedback. My friend Jake Snider is making waves in the creative writing community here, so big ups to him for making it work. I also need to give inspirational credit to Fork in Socket, because their music is fantastic and they are great people. There’s lots of people I probably forgot to mention, so sorry.

Learn more at ultra-pop.com.

C. 2012 LEO Weekly

album review: Whistle Peak

In the ’90s, Lollapalooza, “120 Minutes” and the nascent Internet helped make the world safe for genre-bending and various non-jazzy types of musical fusion (we’re still getting over rap-metal). One avenue that never fulfilled its potential was the intersection of ambient soundscapes, trip-hop and the fuzzed-out guitar bands of the Too Pure label scene — music that would have made pop and rock quieter, a narcotized haze of dreamy, fluffy, liquid beats and strums. Whistle Peak somehow accomplishes all this while retaining bouncy hooks and harmonies and keeping the noise to a sensible minimum. It’s the perfect soundtrack for floating off to nite-nite time or groggily reading the paper (or iPad) on a late Sunday morning, in the best possible way. There’s even a song called “Sleepy Pants,” if there was any doubt left. Make no mistake — this album comes highly recommended for lovers of sounds both familiar and surprising, and makes quiet sound confident and vibrant.

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

Pressure builds for The Head and the Heart

As Sub Pop Records was helping guide Fleet Foxes from obscurity to mainstream success in 2009, the label’s next big widescreen folk-rock band was first meeting each other in a Seattle bar at an open mic.

Songwriters Jonathan Russell and Josiah Johnson joined forces, adding violinist Charity Rose Thielen, keyboardist Kenny Henseley, bassist Chris Zasche and drummer Tyler Williams, and the new sextet began rehearsing in a borrowed music room in the local library.

They recorded their first self-titled album in 2010 and, as it quickly became popular locally, they began touring around the West Coast, adding fans and winning the support of Sub Pop, who re-released a slightly beefed-up version of the album last April. The band toured for the rest of the year, with new friends like My Morning Jacket.

When LEO spoke with Johnson in January, the band was enjoying their first break in a while. “I’m back to living, clearing my head and listening to new music, figuring out what’s most interesting to me right now, before I start writing songs again,” the singer-guitarist said.

For the daunting sophomore album, the self-aware Johnson acknowledges that The Head and the Heart defined their sound so well early on that they now feel wary of painting themselves into a corner. “I think we’re all kind of excited to do something that doesn’t start with slow, gentle, acoustic guitar strumming and all of that …”

But that’s your bread and butter!

“I know, I know, but we can’t keep writing the same song over and over again.”
Those seeing the band for the first time needn’t worry that they’ve abandoned their popular sound already. “We have some songs we wrote around the same time that kind of fit in the same vein of the folky-but-with-piano feel we’ve been playing. We have 13 or 14 songs that we play right now. There’s a couple that are on the iTunes Session (EP) and a couple that sound good when we play them live but, every time we go to record them, there’s something missing that we haven’t figured out yet … That’s the fun part about finally having time off.”

Brand new material will also be tried out on fans, as the members, all of whom contribute, remain unconcerned with overzealous uploaders. Johnson does feel the pressure of heightened expectations, however. “It’s huge! On the one hand, when you write a song that you love, and you’re confident that people are going to also hook up with it, too — until you’ve written that song, it’s like, ‘Oh, man, I’m not gonna write another song that was that good …’”

They remain less concerned with how well the next album sells, and more concerned with living up to their own standards. “I think we’re confident about our instincts, but there’s definitely — when there’s a dry spell, you’re just like, ‘Oh, man, is that magic ever gonna come back?’”

THE HEAD AND THE HEART
WITH DREW GROW AND THE PASTORS’ WIVES
Tuesday, March 6
Headliners Music Hall
1386 Lexington Road • 584-8088
subpop.com/artists/the_head_and_the_heart
$15 adv., $18 DOS; 9 p.m.

Photo by Shawn Brackbill

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

Del McCoury’s musical relations

Born in 1939, Del McCoury has more energy than a person half his age. Though he established himself in the bluegrass world by the age of 24, singing and playing guitar for Bill Monroe, the Nashville resident didn’t break out as a star in his own right until the early 1990s, when he was in his mid-50s.

McCoury attributes some of his staying power to his openness to trying out different sounds with unexpected collaborators. “It’s exciting, because I think it’s good for musicians; they get to hear different things, and hear the same thing in a different way, even. It’s variety — a variety of things that keep your interest up. I think that’s really important in music. I think a lot of people get tired of what they’re doing. I never did, but I can see where you would.”

McCoury likes to take requests and never performs the same show twice. “Sometimes people request songs that I haven’t done in a long time. It keeps me on my toes, and keeps my band on their toes — and they know this stuff better than I do, because I have to sing the words, and I might forget ’em,” he says with a laugh.

The band today includes his sons Ronnie McCoury on mandolin and Rob McCoury on banjo, bassist Alan Bartram and fiddler Jason Carter. In their free time, the four younger members have their own spin-off band, The Travelin’ McCourys.

Past collaborators have included Phish and Steve Earle, and the 2011 album American Legacies found the Del McCoury Band paired with the legendary Preservation Hall Jazz Band of New Orleans. McCoury had been asked to sing a few songs for a tribute album to benefit the musicians who were affected by Hurricane Katrina. “We got to know each other, and one thing led to another, and we thought, ‘Ooh, let’s start playing some dates together.’ And then we thought, ‘Well, why don’t we do a record?’”

The two bands’ touring schedules aligned in San Francisco, where they recorded in a studio that had previously been a mission. “We went in there for about two or three days, just singing any good song that anybody would come up with. We didn’t rehearse anything before the time when we were gonna record. We just ran through things that we thought might work, and that’s the way it came about. It didn’t take long.”

The musicians quickly found common musical ground, realizing that early jazz, Dixieland and bluegrass songs were more alike than many realize today. One of McCoury’s sons asked some Preservation Hall band members, “Did you know Bill Monroe used to come to New Orleans when he was young, and did this song ‘Muhlenberg Joys’?” relays father McCoury. “They said, ‘No, it’s ‘Mullensberg Joys’ … I always figured it was a mandolin tune that Bill recorded. Somebody told me that he was in the hospital from being in a wreck, in the ’50s, and he heard this particular tune on the radio. He recorded it from memory. And he didn’t record it in the ’50s, he waited until, gosh, I think the ’70s. But there’s a lot of that, a lot of them are standards that came from there, from those old jazz tunes.

“From playing with these guys, and hearing things that the early bluegrass musicians — they may not have played the same things, but they were playing some of the same riffs, and it came from horns. If you had told me that 30 years ago, I would’ve said, ‘You’re a liar,’” McCoury laughs.

Though his band’s latest album, Old Memories: The Songs of Bill Monroe, looks back to his tenure with the father of bluegrass, McCoury and sons have refused to be limited by their genre, working with jam bands like Donna the Buffalo and The String Cheese Incident, and the Sacred Steel group The Lee Boys.

“Music is all music. And it’s all related. I don’t care what kind it is. Now, if you’d have told me that when I was in my 20s, I’d have said, ‘You’re a crazy man. Bluegrass is its own thing.’”

The Del McCoury Band with The 23 String Band
Saturday, Feb. 25
Headliners Music Hall
1386 Lexington Road • 584-8088
delmccouryband.com
$20 adv., $25 DOS; 8 p.m.

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

Adventure's gonna tump!

The singing-guitarist Medley brothers of Adventure, Phil and Josef, didn’t mind telling LEO about their new record, which will be celebrated with a release show at Zanzabar Friday at 9 p.m.

LEO: Tell me about this new record coming out. What should America expect to hear?

Josef Medley: A guy who eats his own vomit, December-May romance on a horse farm in Italy, an unwelcoming corner bar, a persevering inspector, and impending divorcees — with guitars!

Phil Medley: And Canadians should probably expect the same.

LEO: How do you guys write? What inspires you?

JM: We take lyrics and subject matter pretty seriously. We’re constantly looking for situations, characters, bits of history that have a certain amount of resonance. Then you get out the tool kit and try to construct something! “Somebody throw me an A-minor! This B-flat doesn’t fit in the sub-chorus! The whole thing’s gonna tump!”

LEO: You’re known as a kick-ass live band. Why don’t more bands try harder?

JM: We’re too old to go out and see too many other bands — they tend to play awfully late. Maybe they should go to bed earlier.

PM: I always chalked it up to pre-show beverages. Is everyone else drinking White Castle coffee? You’d be surprised what that’ll do to a performance.

LEO: The band has 273 Facebook fans. What do you plan to do to become more popular than “Angry Birds”?

PM: “Angry Birds”? Haven’t heard them play. Where are they from? We could maybe do a show swap with them. Nonetheless, I guess we’ll stick with the 5 Rs and 1 P.

JM: Read, rite, record, rock, repeat. Wait a minute — that’s why we only have 273 fans! We always forget the P: Promote.

Decide if you “like” Adventure or not at facebook.com/adventuretheband.

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

Tanned, rested and ready

It’s easy for the Pixies to rehash old favorites for millions of dollars, but it’s more interesting when a lesser-known band regroups because they can’t not play together. Nixon has gotten back together to spread more heavy sounds, even as members remain with other bands, such as The Hookers and Trophy Wives. LEO caught up with guitarist Doug Walker.

LEO: How did the band get back together?

Doug Walker: I think for all of us, Nixon always felt like the girlfriend you never quite fully get over. When we stopped working together as a band four years ago, it was a situation where we weren’t really enjoying it anymore. I’m pretty sure it felt stagnant to all of us, and there were a lot of outside situations we were dealing with as individuals that just took away from the overall enjoyment of the band. Over the course of the time we were inactive, we often talked about the idea of doing “one more show” or “trying to get it going again,” but the time was just never right. We finally found ourselves in a situation where we were all in town and had the availability and desire to do it again. After one practice, we decided to give it another go … Working together is much smoother this time around. It’s been a very positive experience.

LEO: There are echoes of some great heavy, underground bands from the ’90s, and some recent ones as well, in these songs. How has your songwriting evolved through the years?

DW: Lyrically, Matt Haas is, in my opinion, an absolute genius at painting a picture of despair and dissatisfaction. Musically, Matt Jaha and myself do everything possible to take what we like to call a “creepy” approach to song writing. Eric McManus and Tony Ash are hands down the most solid rhythm section in this city. Just those two can create a crushing sound. Jaha and myself only need to layer our guitars on top of them, then Haas comes in and makes it all make sense by telling a story.

Nixon plays Friday night at Cahoots. More info is at facebook.com/nixonKY.

Photo by Bryan Volz

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

The Phantom Family Halo's future now

Phantom Family Halo founder Dominic Cipolla decided to move from Louisville to Brooklyn. “About a year before I moved, I set a date, told everyone in the band that I was going and that I would love for them all to join me. But not everyone has the same goals and interests. I just needed a jolt of energy in my life that I knew I needed to find elsewhere.”

When I Fall Out is the fourth full-length album for the band and the first since the tragic death of Cipolla’s close friend Tony Bailey, a drummer widely admired for his skill and prolificness. The album, out this week, is the first of two planned by the band for release this year.

“These songs were all written over the course of a year or so, after his passing. Within days of it happening, it was my therapy of sorts. I was doing the only thing I knew that would help me with all the confusion and anxiety of such a drastic turn in life, helping to make it the smallest bit easier to comprehend for myself,” says Cipolla. “It is certainly influenced by dealing with his loss, but it is also influenced by other people I have known who have gotten pretty lost along the way. It’s also, I guess, about an overall feeling that the fun at the party is over and has taken a very dark turn — people wanting to live in that synthetic place so badly that they never come back.

“‘When I Fall Out,’ the song, is about that moment when they have finally achieved that goal. It’s sort of a journey through the high and low points of someone’s quest for that high that they’re just not getting from the regular human experience. Even when they have so many around who just want to love them and enjoy them, they just end up leaving them behind.”

Moving away helped Cipolla move forward, both musically and in general. “I love New York so very much. I love all aspects of the city. Its history is so endlessly entertaining to me, the dirtiest subway rat to the prettiest flower in the park … The possibilities to explore are endless here. I am always finding something new and thinking how glad I am for leaving the house that day.”

The second album, Hard Apple Moon, “is full of all the positive energy and excitement that comes along with moving to such an interesting and wonderful place,” he says. The band wanted to keep the two sets of songs separate. “The second set is very uptempo and more about my surroundings and being re-energized for a future unknown. The title ‘Hard Apple Moon’ is really a loose term for something that I can only describe as being a life-saver. I started writing the second set the week I moved to New York City … The songs from each set just naturally didn’t seem right together.”

Though Cipolla also plays guitar, drums are his first love, leading him to often provide multiple parts on recordings. “When I get a general idea in my head, it is just easier for me to get it going … I always hear very specific beats and fills that I would rather do myself. Then, of course, with writing the songs, my guitar playing and vocals are in the process as well. So in the end, I just end up piecing the majority of the tune together. Then others may add to it, as well.”

Highly informed by ’60s and ’70s rock — glam, psych and heavy rock, especially — Cipolla defines himself as “way out of the loop” with music. “I’m pretty confused about what is going on in today’s world. I’m still finding music from 40 years ago that compels my ears and mind … I do think that certain ears seek music like that out and find it and benefit from it.”

Music has proven its healing powers to him. When he plays the songs from his new, dark album live, “I am able to step out of the original thought process and just hear it as a song with melodies and changes and dynamics. I enjoy playing them very much."

Photo by David S. Rubin

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

Whistle Peak’s homemade electro-folk sounds

Describing the unusual mixture of sounds making up the stew in Whistle Peak’s indie pop is difficult, but their music is tasty and intriguing, and even more so in their second album, Half Asleep Upon Echo Falls, out this week on local label Karate Body Records. LEO spoke with singer Billy Petot.

LEO: How did the new album come together? How do you all write?

Billy Petot: David Boston and I began working on the songs for this album as soon as we released our debut in 2008. We realized people liked what we were doing, so that motivated us to start writing with an audience in mind. I can’t say the same about the first album; we didn’t really imagine much of an audience when we wrote those songs. I like to say that this time around felt much more intentional, rather than the first, which sounds more aloof to me.

Usually, David or I will write a song, maybe lay down some groundwork, if we have any ideas, and then we bring in Jeremy Irvin, who contributes a great deal, and just see where each song takes us. Sometimes Mike Snowden will come record some bass lines, and a song will take a new direction. We never know what it is going to sound like until we start laying it down. It’s really about experimentation and improvisation.

LEO: Whistle Peak doesn’t sound like many other bands, indie or otherwise. What do you hear when you hear Whistle Peak?

BP: I hear some strange amalgamation of everything. Spaces bleeding across boundaries. The old made new … I refer to it as “electro-folk.” Kevin Ratterman, who mastered both albums, once called it “hi-fi-lo-fi.” Our buddy Tim Stratman calls it “future hits.”

LEO: Where do your songs come from? What inspires you?

BP: Our loved ones. Our love of nature. Relationships. David and I have been close friends and songwriting partners since high school, so he inspires me a great deal. I like to think he’d say the same. The music of others certainly inspires us. When I hear something I really like, I immediately want to sit down and write some that makes me feel that way again.

LEO: Where did you record it?

BP: David records it all at his home with some less-than-stellar equipment. We’ve been using the same Gateway computer to record on since 1999. Before that, we were recording on analog 4-tracks and stuff like that, so I think we prefer that sound of being homemade in a way, of just using the tools we have handy, whether that is a pot, a paintbrush or tea kettle. This time around, we wanted to do things the same way but try and make it sound professionally done — radio-friendly, I guess — or at least as though we spent a lot of money, which we did not.

Whistle Peak plays a record release show at Zanzabar on March 3.

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

Demetri Martin’s comic eye

Law school dropout Demetri Martin has thrived in comedy — landing TV specials, albums, a recurring spot on “The Daily Show”, his own series, starring in the movie “Taking Woodstock” and writing a best-selling book — and at 38, he’s just getting started. LEO spoke with him as he drove on his “Telling Jokes in Cold Places Tour”.

LEO: Usually a headliner does a weekend. Why do we only get you for one night?
Demetri Martin: I’m doing a TV taping on the 18th of February, a stand-up special. I haven’t done one of those since 2007, so I wanted to do a bunch of shows and get ready for that. We just found places that I felt would be fun to run the set, try out new material and lead up to it.

LEO: How’s the new material going over?
DM: Really well. I haven’t had a chance to focus exclusively on stand-up in quite a while. I wrote a book, I’m writing a pilot — an animated show for Fox — I’ve written a couple of screenplays, and had a couple acting jobs. It’s been cool to get other things, but now I get to go back to what I do most, which is stand-up.

LEO: Zach Galifianakis has, like you, been using sketch pads in his stand-up for years. Is there something about Greek-American comedians that makes you guys more visual?
DM: (laughs) Maybe! There’s Zach, me, Tina Fey’s Greek … there aren’t that many of us, especially in comedy. We have to reach. I have a lot of Jewish friends, and that list is amazing — they have Einstein (laughs). We have Telly Savalas, who a lot of people don’t know any more. John Stamos.

LEO: Comedy Central has given shows to a number of talented people who seem to walk away unhappy with their experience. Did you have problems with them, creatively?
DM: The creative side, they were pretty good to me. Marketing it was always a real struggle; how to promote the show and myself, as a human being. You get a sense that they’re not interested, like, “We know how to sell stuff, and we’re going to sell it, and that’s how it’s gonna be.” But, on the Comedy Central scale of dealing with people, they were pretty nice to me. When it comes to business, they’re pretty notorious, pretty tough. They’re not too amenable to compromising too much. But I can’t really complain; I got to do a lot of stuff. I got to do my series.

LEO: Is your goal to have a career like Woody Allen’s?
DM: If I could have one-tenth of his career, I’d be lucky. I always think of Woody and Albert Brooks. There’s two examples, and rare examples, of people who develop a specific sensibility and they’re able to tell stories — and in different media. On the page, in films, stand-up …

LEO: Were you able to learn from some of the directors you’ve worked for?
DM: Yeah, the few movie roles I’ve been able to get, those have been really educational. I got to be on a set with Ang Lee and Steven Soderberg, and those were really cool. There’s so much information to absorb while you’re there, even if you only work a couple of days. And doing my series, two seasons of that, was really helpful. That taught me a lot about getting through a production day, all the moving parts, and also budgets, which is really not my strong suit at all.

LEO: Is it true that you were up for the part Jonah Hill played in Moneyball?
DM: Yeah. I was attached to the part, when it was with a different director. I worked for a day with Soderbergh and Brad Pitt, it was really fun — and then the next day, the movie was shut down.

LEO: You picked the cities on this tour. Was there anything about Louisville that appealed to you?
DM: A couple things. Number one, I’ve never done stand-up in Louisville. I’m certainly interested to see who shows up, and how it goes. Number two, it worked well with routing. Number three, I dated a girl a long time ago from Louisville, and she was really cool. That’s not very relevant to stand-up, but it’s nice.

Demetri Martin
Feb. 9
The Improv
441 S. 4th St. • 581-1332
demetrimartin.com
$30; 8 p.m.

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

Heartless Bastards, all over the road

Heartless Bastards began in Cincinnati clubs and, less than a decade later, have established themselves as one of the most vital rock ’n’ roll bands left. Just in time for the so-appropriate Valentine’s Day, Heartless Bastards’ fourth album, Arrow, produced by Spoon’s Jim Eno, will be released. Bandleader Erika Wennerstrom, who spoke with LEO, moved to Eno’s Austin, Texas, four years ago.

“I moved to Austin because I was in a nine-year relationship, and we split up. I happened to have family here, and my management at the time was located here. So I had a support system to help me get started,” Wennerstrom says. “Although I think Austin’s a great music town, and I love living here, that’s not what drew me here. I think a lot of people assume that, but … it’s a nice perk to living here.”

Wennerstrom’s tendency to travel influenced her latest record in some unexpected ways. “I’m really proud of it,” she says of the new album, the band’s first for Partisan Records after three albums released by Fat Possum Records. “It took me probably three years to write. I’d had melodies over a two-year period popping in my head, but once we got done touring from (2009 album) The Mountain, I started sitting down and focusing on how to say what I wanted to say in the songs. I have some sort of A.D.D.-focus problems, so I ended up deciding to take some road trips.”

Wennerstrom got in her car and drove around for a month or so, from Austin back up to see friends and family in Ohio, then over to the Catskill Mountains.

“I met up with some friends who were playing at (the festival) All Tomorrow’s Parties in the Catskills in New York, fall 2010. That was inspiring. I stayed in a cabin up there after it was over on my own for several days, then I drove down to the Alleghenies in Pennsylvania and found a place there, a cabin on a lake, to stay. It was a campground, but, on weekdays, it was pretty vacant.”

From there, she continued on to Arkansas, where her father once lived near Hot Springs, before landing in a friend’s house on a ranch outside the famed artist colony of Marfa, Texas.

“I think, through that process, I didn’t get done nearly as much as I’d hoped, but I feel like it was a lot of the inspiration for what I did end up writing,” says the 33-year-old native of Dayton, Ohio. “There’s a lot of imagery from the trip, and certain lines would pop in my head when I was driving. They would guide me to finish the songs. I brought the songs in to the band, and we all started working on them. Jim Eno, who produced the album, made some suggestions; one of his suggestions I really liked was touring on the songs before we recorded them. So we opened up for the Drive-By Truckers on a month-long West Coast tour last spring, then we went right in the studio two days after we got back. I really feel like it created a real live sound to the album. A lot of the takes that we did, there’s not a lot of added instrumentation and filler.”

Wennerstrom is happy for the success her friends The Black Keys have had, and is realistic about the Bastards’ place in the universe.

“I’m really proud of what I’ve accomplished so far. I do what I do, and release songs to the public because I want people to hear them — so, sure, as many people as will like a song that I create, that feels good. If I were to only go as far as I already have, as far as people being aware of who the band is, I’m content. I love what I do, and I want to do it for as long as I’m capable of it. And I’m going to do it whether I have five fans or 5 million, or … something (laughs). There’s just something in me that needs to create, and this is my way of expressing myself. I’m going to do that, whether people hear it or not.”

Heartless Bastards
with Hacienda and Houndmouth
Monday, Feb. 13
Headliners Music Hall
1386 Lexington Road • 584-8088
theheartlessbastards.com
$15; 8 p.m.

Photo by Nathan Presley

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

No sleep, no college for Xerxes

Our Home Is a Deathbed, the first full-length album by the Louisville-based thrashy hardcore punk band Xerxes, will be released next month. Recorded with Kevin Ratterman (Wax Fang, My Morning Jacket) at his Funeral Home studio, the album is a big step forward for the precocious quintet, who will play a show at a secret location this weekend. LEO spoke with bassist Will Allard in December.

LEO: You guys are going to be pretty busy in 2012.
Will Allard: It’s getting really crazy. We did a bunch of touring earlier in the year (2011), then we took time to write the record; we did basically nothing but put all of our energy into that. We’ll be gone most of 2012.

LEO: On the first leg of the tour, coming back through here, you’re doing 40-some cities in about 40 days?
WA: Yeah, 41 shows in 41 days. Then we’re home for three weeks, then we go out again. It should be pretty wild.

LEO: Why did you want to work with Kevin Ratterman on this album?
WA: We went with him because of his past roster. He was awesome to work with, the vibe of the studio fit our needs, and it was an awesome experience. We didn’t want to go anywhere out of Louisville, we wanted to keep it all in the circle. Not to sound cheesy, but keeping it where home is, keeping it Louisville, I guess.

LEO: What does that mean to you?
WA: We grew up all loving the bands that were before us — like Mountain Asleep, who’s our brother band, and Coliseum, Young Widows, By the Grace of God, Breather Resist — all those maximum Louisville bands.

LEO: How long do you think it will take before younger kids start citing you as an influence?
WA: Oh, I don’t even know. I don’t even care (laughs), but if it happens, it’s cool. It’s not a goal.

LEO: What’s the age range of the band members now?
WA: Everyone is 19 except (guitarist) James (Moore). I think he’s 20.

LEO: That’s pretty young to have gotten as far as you guys have come already.
WA: Yeah, we’re all a bunch of youngsters. We’ve been doing this since we were, like, 16, and we’ve been touring since we were 17. We wanted to just do it, and take advantage of being young while we can abuse our bodies, you know? (laughs) When you’re 30, you can’t really go out for 41 days in a row and expect to function.

LEO: When you talk about abusing your bodies, are you talking about playing and jumping around?
WA: Yeah — sleeping on floors, loading in to dirty venues, playing a 15-minute-long set and abusing your body by letting it all pour out, just burn it all out in 15 minutes or so.

LEO: Can you look ahead to 30 and guess if you’ll still be playing music like this? Or will you turn into one of those ex-punker folk singers or rockabilly guys?
WA: (laughs) No, I’ll be doing this for forever, so … the only thing I know is this is all I want to do, and the same goes for everyone else in the band. We’re not really good at anything else (laughs).

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

Serious fun

JP Source isn’t just another DJ. He’s a sound artist who describes his sounds as “Deep balearic disco party house,” and, unlike most American DJs, he speaks with a British accent because he’s actually British. His new EP is titled Get Your Bearings.

LEO: How did this record release come together?

JPS: The tracks are very party-oriented, especially in contrast to a release I had this year on Audio Parallax, which was a much more cerebral, almost cathartic EP. The tracks (on Get Your Bearings) had been tested on the dance floor rigorously. The people behind the label liked the fun vibe of the tracks and said they wanted to put them out, which was lovely! I really like their attitude, which maintains a healthy work ethic without taking themselves too seriously.

LEO: How do you respond to people who diss DJs?

JPS: It depends how big they are. Essentially, when I’m DJing, all I’m trying to do is play you some music that I think you will like. If it’s not working out, then whoops, but let’s not fall out about it. I really haven’t heard about anyone “dissing” DJs too much recently, apart from Noel Gallagher — but I think he was referring to a lot of the chart dance stuff sounding the same.

LEO: Who are some locals doing stuff you find interesting?

JPS: I’ve spent a lot of time with OK Deejays. They have been really friendly and helpful to me since I got here. I DJ with them when I can, and it’s always fun. I really love WFPK. It’s really pretty unique, particularly in the later hours. That radio station is allegorical for a lot of things that I have found in the music and art scene here in Louisville, in that it isn’t just “good for Kentucky,” it’s really an outstanding thing as part of a much wider sense. The restaurants and many, many ales are good here, too.

JP Source spins at Zanzabar on Feb. 1 and presents “Balearic Sunset” at La Bodega Saturday nights. For more, go to soundcloud.com/jpsource.

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

Elephant Micah: In his own time

For some people, Joe O’Connell might be the best songwriter in the whole world, and they'll stand on Bob Dylan's coffee table in their cowboy boots and say that.

So why isn’t he more of a household name yet? His music as Elephant Micah — a name used both solo and with rotating accompanists — is a modern, DIY take on early 1970s folk mixed, at times, with bursts of electric guitar textures. It’s accessible, beautiful, and would likely find a larger audience, if given the conventional promotional push.

For O’Connell, who self-releases his music, one reason for Elephant Micah’s slow path to wider recognition has been a reluctance to play by the rules established by his industry. “New artists starting out now probably don’t have ambitions of having some decade-long career doing obscure self-releases,” he laughs. “Most people looking to get attention for their music are actually trying to be part of the bigger indie label system. I don’t see it as two separate options, though. I’m not really setting out to ennoble one and vilify the other. What I am into is the idea that you can mess with the model of what a recording artist does, and how they get their work to people.”

Another aspect is his desire to stay in control of the music itself, especially when other options are unappealing or inaccessible. “Most of the musicians that I know are in that position. The gatekeeping to participate in the more visible indie world is so pronounced and so impossible to navigate that the musicians — the people who are considered my peers — have all found it a waste of time, and are looking for ways to be a little more self-reliant.”

Finding social media to be more of a distraction than a facilitator, O’Connell sells his catalogue through his own site and through Bandcamp. His loyal audience receives emails alerting them to new recordings; he doesn’t want them to have to work as hard as he does. “More and more, I want everything I record to be available by donation. I’m actually surprised that more people don’t do that, especially those who are not in the position of being part of the industry status quo approach to releasing music. Otherwise, it’s like the artist is in more of the role of a gatekeeper, trying to control access to their music. I’m more interested in trying to increase that access and less interested in trying to control it. I think that’s good for everyone involved, the audience and independent artists who are relying on their audience in a more direct way for support.”

Elephant Micah’s new album, Louder Than Thou, was released this week, though its songs were written in 2008. “The experience of playing it back now, it’s a little bit disorienting — the way the finished thing refers back to each layer of work that you put into it,” O’Connell says.

“Because I’m mostly doing everything myself, really involved in each step, each of those steps producing a record is really intense. Or like an intense memory. Hearing the record is like this time-travel experience of all of the triumphs and all of the failures of trying to put it together,” he says with a self-deprecating laugh. “But I’m trying to be funny, I don’t mean that in any earnest way.”

O’Connell had help from longtime collaborators and brothers Justin and Nathan Vollmer on this album, made in his current home of Bloomington, Ind., and he says he’s trying to make recordings of newer songs more quickly now. A native of Pekin, Ind., the former Louisvillian hesitates to make comparisons between his musical experiences in each city.

“In some sense, the people that I know in Louisville have a shared interest in folk and country music, and acoustic music. My experience in Bloomington has a little more to do with … sort of rock,” he notes. “I’m really interested in playing loud music with electric guitar and drums, as well as I’m really into country and bluegrass and all that stuff.”

Photo by William Winchester Claytor.

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

Movin' On Up

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Learn more at cheyennemariemize.com.

Photo by Meagan Jordan.

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

John Cowan adapts to the modern world

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo by J. Michael Krouskop

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

Sean Cannon’s adventures After Dark

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

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

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

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

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

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

photo by David Modica

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

Syrupy treat

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

LEO: What is “hardcore flat grass”?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

The LEO interview: Langhorne Slim

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

Langhorne Slim on music, dating and Grandma

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Read an extended interview at bluecat.leoweekly.com

Photo by Liz Devine

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

Haunted Pop

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

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

Shane St. Clair: Haha, good one.

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

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

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

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

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

SS: Me!

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

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

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

album review: Rare Treats

Rare Treats
Wolf in People’s Clothing
GUBBEY



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

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

album review: Joe Hanna

Joe Hanna
Social Ritual
SELF-RELEASED



On his third solo record, Louisville singer/songwriter and guitarist Joe Hanna has brought together some of his — and our — favorite musicians, including Java Men vets Todd Hildreth (keys) and Ray Rizzo (drums), Picket Line bassist Danny Kiely and journeyman guitarist Mark “Lupe” Hamilton. Make no mistake, though, this is one man’s show, when it’s all said and done and the neon bar sign’s been turned off. Hanna’s Texas-via-Midwest soul/folk material, a well-balanced collection of jovial rockers and tender ballads, should appeal to fans of more famous acts such as John Hiatt, Lyle Lovett or Van Morrison; to be fair, they’ve all been at this longer, but Hanna is no mere pup and deserves his shot on public radio. The recording is crisp, and the band does an admirable job of providing subtle and supple support. Judge for yourself on Monday (Jan. 2), where they’ll perform a full-band set at Clifton’s Pizza at 7 p.m.

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

Affirmed but not forgotten

Nathan Salsburg’s first solo album, Affirmed, is a collection of mostly solo guitar compositions, performed by an archivist, radio presenter and LEO columnist who spends much of his time interacting with music old and unjustly forgotten.

LEO: Why make your first record now, at the advanced age of 30-something?

Nathan Salsburg: The short answer is that I’ve wanted to make this record for a long time, and it took this long to make. The long one is that some years ago, I got really burned out on playing music with the fairly paltry tools I then had at my disposal, and instead devoted myself to becoming a better listener. Over time, that devotion increased my attentiveness, adventurousness and sensitivity as a listener, which started expressing itself in my playing, and in the development of a style that felt like mine. The style started begetting tunes, and the tunes begat the record.

LEO: You work in the music industry, working with digital files all the time. So why do I have a CD in my hands?

NS: I wouldn’t say I work in the music “industry.” My livelihood doesn’t rely on how much music I can sell, but rather the efficacy with which I make music available. And as people, including me, interact with music in all forms of media, I’m glad that Affirmed is available in as many formats as the label saw fit to produce: CD, LP and MP3. I love cassettes, and if they had been a feasible medium to produce, I would have been happy with that, too.

LEO: What should people do while listening to your record?

NS: I would hope people would be satisfied just listening to the record. If they are, it’s a success.

Learn more at noquarter.net.

Photo by Tim Furnish.

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

Mixing it up for 20 years on ‘World Café’

Even after two decades of hosting public radio’s “World Café” (heard locally on 91.9 WFPK, weekdays from 6-8 p.m.), David Dye has trouble explaining his job to some people.

“The parents of the kids at my kids’ school — I don’t think they know what it’s about,” Dye laughs. “I try to explain it, and I go, ‘Well, it’s sort of semi-popular
music …”

The Philadelphia-based show features semi-popular Celtic folk, garage rock, hipster dance, ’60s pop, funk revivalism and any other sounds that interest Dye and his staff. Sometimes it actually reflects popular taste, from recent guests like Foster the People to early discoveries like Sheryl Crow.

“I remember seeing her at a convention,” Dye reflects. “Everybody was talking with everybody and having lunch, and nobody was paying attention to her, and I thought she was great. You look at Sheryl Crow now and you go, ‘How could you not have realized that?’”

The early years were defined by singer-songwriters, but Dye and his staff evolved with the times. “We went where the inventive music goes. We went with people who were doing more interesting things. It’s what we’re listening to, and it just made a lot of sense.”

Adapting has been a large part of why they have been able to continue — not just financially, but as music fans. Dye continues, “The original AAA artists are … I guess, in some ways, they’re not being as creative. We’ve lost a few stations who wanted a more folky thing, but that’s not really what we’re doing.”

Dye has interviewed almost 5,000 musicians. Occasionally, it doesn’t go as planned. Lou Reed behaved typically. “It wasn’t really a disaster — I think it was pre-planned. He just gave me one-word answers for a long time.” With pop singer Jewel, a misunderstanding interrupted what should have been a breezy chat. “Jewel and I didn’t click. I probably clumsily asked a question and she reacted; she thought I was insulting her, so she insulted me back. Like, ‘Whoa, all right!’

“Generally speaking, the staff here has found that my interviews are best with people I really like. If I don’t really love somebody, I can get myself into trouble,” laughs Dye.

More often, Dye has been able to spend time with artists and learn more about them. “I think one of the major things is not being afraid to ask the question that you’re nervous about. Or that you think might offend somebody. Because you have no idea … you can’t get inside their head.” Dye has the advantage of being in a studio with his subjects. “I try to be very conscious of reading people’s cues — either vocally or what they’re saying, just watching how comfortable or uncomfortable they are.”

Dye agrees with those who tell him he has “a dream job.” “We just started up this new ‘Sense of Place’ series, where we travel to various cities and talk to musicians. I mean, wow! It’s a fabulous, fabulous job.” A recent voyage to Dublin will soon be followed by trips to New Orleans and London. “People always say, ‘Why don’t you go out to see much music?’ Well, every day I’m seeing something coming in to me.”

One problem Dye has, which many share, is a lack of time to listen to all the new music that pours in constantly. He now commutes via train, and recently began a morning workout routine that adds an additional album’s worth of tunes to his day. Recommendations from staffers, colleagues and the web help him focus.

Even after what’s already been an amazingly long run, the world of “World Café” continues expanding. A 2007 book compiled some of Dye’s favorite interviews, and two live performance venues branded as “World Café Live” have opened in the Philadelphia area.

Dye’s biggest goal is to keep the sounds diverse. “People’s record collections are not one thing, and the more I remember that, the better. It’s great to have the Black Keys on, but it’s also great to have the Chain Gang of 1974, or something with Yo-Yo Ma. I like to mix it up.”

photo by Michael T. Regan

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

Mercy Me

You might recognize Tender Mercy’s Mark Kramer from his years behind the counter at ear X-tacy. The music Kramer himself makes could be described just as he can: tall, lean, quiet and powerful. The new Tender Mercy EP is The Road To Good Intention Is Paved With Hell.

LEO: How did the band come together?

Mark Kramer: Although in the past I’ve had help, it is just me that represents Tender Mercy. I thought about going under my own name, but I really liked the title, and coincidentally, it kept appearing in books I was reading. I took it as a sign. So to answer your question, the band came together at conception. Careful with that one — I know this is a family paper.

LEO: Your music is often quiet and slow yet, for this EP, you worked with some of Louisville’s most notable hardcore musicians. What did they offer the project?

MK: The operative word here is “musician.” They are wonderful, generous, multifaceted individuals whose use of their ears isn’t limited to hardcore or heavy music. What did they offer? Their respect and kindness, and a much different way of hearing what I do. Their impact was nothing but positive for this EP and a huge part of why I am so proud of it.

LEO: You worked for a long time at ear X-tacy. Is it extra bittersweet that you won’t be able to sell this EP there?

MK: Extra, extra bittersweet. One of my hopes was not only to have it sold at ear X-tacy, but, having seen so many inspiring performances there, to kick off its release with an in-store like so many amazing local bands have.

LEO: What is your favorite Robert Duvall movie?

MK: “Days of Thunder.”

Learn more at tendermercy.bandcamp.com.

photo by Sean Bailey

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

album review: Dane Waters

Dane Waters
Dark Waters
SELF-RELEASED



Music can have such an odd effect on memory. Though Julee Cruise is hardly a household name today, chances are many would instantly recognize her voice from the “Twin Peaks” soundtrack. The only song I remember from my wedding reception was hers. It’s a sound not heard often enough, and it’s the first thing one might hear upon entering these Dark Waters. The well-trained local vocal champ, who has collaborated with many of Louisville’s best artists across multiple genres, has finally released this, her first (almost entirely) solo effort, and the freedom afforded here suits her well. The album is a haunting, lush collection of minimal soundscapes that probably work as well in a spa as they do in a gallery or an intimate nightclub. Some of the mostly one-word song titles give a fair approximation of the mood here: “Winter,” “Blue” and “Dream Again” deliver on their promise — but just because she sounds mellow doesn’t mean she’s not fierce and mighty.

c. 2011 LEO Weekly

album review: Supertruck

Supertruck
Supertruck
SELF-RELEASED



I wasn’t really lucid in the ’70s (but then, who was?), but I am a student of music history. Such a time was fertile for what we now call classic rock and Southern rock; it was the best of times and the worst of times for each. Louisville’s Supertruck has clearly done some of the same homework, and knocks out a promising collection of boots-wearing, truck-driving rock that should help establish them as a band to watch. Though cuts such as “Whiskey Cut Tea” and “She’s a Drinker” might make them sound predictable, there’s more going on here than just drinkin’ anthems. While lyrically they fall short of Skynyrd’s best story songs, and singer Jordan Humbert’s everyman vocals can’t match the beauty of Dickey Betts or the grit of Gregg Allman, Supertruck’s guitarists, Sturdevant and Jordan Humbert, kick out jams more than worthy of the Outlaws or the Marshall Tucker Band. A fluid rhythm section and extra touches of piano and fiddle help flesh out some good ol’ listening.

c. 2011 LEO Weekly