Milo Greene’s road movies

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Robbie Arnett is one of the five members of Milo Greene, none of whom are named Milo or Greene. If you’re an NPR-listening, blog-reading music fan, you’ve probably heard the oft-told story of how they got their name (it was the name of a fictitious manager, used by band members trying to book shows while in previous bands, attempting to give the impression that they were more successful).

Milo Greene is a pop-rock band from Los Angeles that has shared not just booking duties but also songwriting and singing, and trades instruments throughout their sets. “I learned guitar first. Everything else, I try to make it up as I go,” Arnett says. “We take as many instruments as we can, learn really simple lines, little melodies, and then figure out how to play it live.”

Unlike some L.A. collectives, Milo Greene doesn’t exude a Manson family cult vibe — they come from the sunny part of town, near the beach, where folks are still young enough to try to succeed, where their dreams haven’t been totally dashed yet.

Living in what the band calls “Americalifornia” has also made it easier to perform on every TV talk show in town, though they have spent much of the past few years touring up and down the highways of the real America. It’s a life that appeals to him, says Arnett, much more than battling the legendary SoCal traffic snarls.

“It’s the way I’ve always lived. My family moved a lot when I was growing up, so it turned into something that feels natural to me — moving around hotels, a different city each night.”

Their travels will take them to Bonnaroo this June, offering a chance to check out both their youthful peers and older legends like Paul McCartney and Tom Petty. It might be the best way for an up-and-coming musician to make Dad proud.

“I was home recently with my dad, and we watched one of those behind-the-album documentaries on Netflix about Tom Petty … I’ve done some harsh music projects before, and this is the one that my dad is like, ‘Oh, I could get into this.’ That’s really cool to think that you can be up there with, like, (laughs) The Doobie Brothers.”

Have you considered that in 10 or 20 years, you might be somebody’s parents’ favorite band? “I hope,” laughs Arnett. “Yeah, that would be cool. It would be, like, the Eagles or us.”

Milo Greene has done well enough that their Louisville show was originally scheduled for Zanzabar but had to move to the larger Headliners to meet demand.

The real test might be the nerve-racking sophomore album, the expectations-raised sequel to the album they spent years preparing.

“We have time off in April, so we’re just starting to think about making new music, which is exciting for me. I’ve been living with these songs for almost four years now at this point.”

“It’ll be nice to get some new blood in there,” he says. “We love working with sounds, recording stuff, and we do it all ourselves. Being in a band with four songwriters is a challenge, but I think that’s a gift,” Arnett continues, describing their commonality as a shared love of lyrics and melody.

Still, Arnett’s not completely sick of their set just yet. “No, no, like I said, we learn instruments on the go, so I’m always challenged.”

You’re still learning how to play your own songs? “Exactly! ‘You want me to jump on this keyboard? Jump on this bass? It’s gonna take some time, but OK …’”

The band’s interest in movies — and marketing savvy — has led them to label their music “cinematic pop.” While the group’s future potential as film composers is still unknown, they have assembled a 40-minute film called “Moddison,” meant to coincide with their self-titled album, which was released last July. “I’m interested in (film scoring) … people have asked, we just haven’t had time to think about things. When you’re on the road, you kind of forget things like what time it is. You can’t focus on real things.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Arnett concludes. “You’re just focused on things like traveling, and you get an hour each day to really be alive.”

Milo Greene with the Kopecky Family Band
Saturday, March 16
Headliners Music Hall
1386 Lexington Road
headlinerslouisville.com
$12; 9 p.m.

Photo by Liza Boone

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

Rise of the DJs

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How dance music moved in on the Louisville music scene

To be at the Germantown nightclub Zanzabar at 1 a.m. on a Saturday night that has become a Sunday morning is to be several things. Most likely, you are young, between 21 and 29. You are probably pretty drunk, though not too drunk yet, if you’re at all civilized (give it another hour).

If you’re a woman, you probably came to hang out with your girlfriends; you might be looking to hook up with someone, or you might just be looking to dance the night away. If you’re a man, you might not even realize there are DJs on the small stage in the back of the room. You are probably there with a handful of your bros, but you are hoping to leave with just one other person. You might get into a fight, tonight or some other night; if you’re that type, maybe on multiple nights.

Throughout the dry-ice-scented, laser-light-filled club, girls tote crossbody bags, decked out in a hipster style that works for the fedora and trucker hat-wearing guys. A swarm of the latter flash gang signs as GlitterTitzDJz knowingly segue from a remix of Icona Pop’s theme from MTV’s “Snooki and JWoww” show into DJ Assault’s classic ode to “Ass-N-Titties.”

Zanzabar opened in 2009 as a combination bar/restaurant/music venue, with the added distinction of boasting an impressive collection of playable pinball machines and old-school video games. But if anything has made it a place to see and be seen on the weekends, it’s the DJs.

The Louisville music scene has a long history of punk, hardcore and heavy metal bands to its credit, along with numerous variations on country, indie rock, jazz, hip-hop, blues and R&B. It’s always been a live music town, where bands from My Morning Jacket to The Crashers have thrilled thousands with their guitars, basses, drums and keyboards.

But increasingly, DJs — not just the wedding or Fourth Street Live variety aiming to play the latest Top 40 hits for less discriminating audiences — have become an important and essential aspect of the scene.

Not coincidentally, DJs have become a big business worldwide. From easily identifiable pop-star-level favorites like Skrillex and Deadmaus to super-producers and writers like Calvin Harris (Rihanna, Kesha, Kylie Minogue) and David Guetta (Black Eyed Peas, Akon, Pitbull), DJs have become a commercial factor like never before. While the music has had a decades-long presence in Europe, and various electronic and/or dance acts such as Moby, Prodigy and Underworld achieved success in the United States in the late-’90s, what is today called EDM (a redundant acronym for “electronic dance music”) is a relatively new phenomenon on Top 40 radio here.

Forecastle Festival founder J.K. McKnight, who has booked DJs at his fests for several years, says he saw the current wave coming a decade ago. “It seemed inevitable. I witnessed it firsthand when I was 19 and in Belfast, Northern Ireland, on a trip. It left a mark. The energy level was off the charts.”

But it would take time for that wave of energy to reach its peak in this town.

“(Louisville) likes its indie rock, it likes its singer-songwriters; it likes a lot of things, but it took a while for Louisville,” says musician Craig Pfunder of the dance-rock band VHS or Beta, a native who now lives in New York. “The times, I’m sure, are different now with the Internet — not as many boundaries.”

As more young music fans turn away from guitars and toward two turntables and a mixer, will Louisville’s next breakthrough act be a traditional rock band like My Morning Jacket or Houndmouth … or a DJ you wouldn’t even recognize at Kroger?

Garrett Crabtree Jr. was raised on classic rock, spending much of his youth attempting to nail perfect guitar solos. But these days, the 31-year-old genuinely loves dance music and is protective of its younger fans.

“Young people — 18-25 — have always been the deciding factor in pop music,” says Crabtree, one half of the DJ duo GlitterTitz. “They drive the world of music, but people just seem to write them off as stupid kids. Ultimately, I think it’s kind of crazy that it’s taken you guys this long to do a story on the DJ scene in Louisville.”

To the younger generation, he adds, this is their music: “It’s not ironic or funny. They look at DJs as artists.”

And as appreciation for this art form grows, so, too, does the number of aspiring DJs.

“There are so many artists these days, it’s like getting a turntable now for Christmas has replaced the acoustic guitar,” McKnight says. “Everyone is doing it, but so few will actually make it.”

British ex-pat Jon Paul Hill, who spins disco Saturdays at the Butchertown bar Meat under the DJ name JP Source, is one of those many. When he was 16, a friend taught him the basics.

“I couldn’t get it out of my mind. And so, when quite soon after I was given a bit of money, it came down to a choice of get driving lessons or some turntables. I chose the decks and, in retrospect, realized that these are the kind of foolish decisions only made by proper DJs.”

Jesse See Tai began learning how to DJ at 15. Within a year, still with braces on his teeth, he began DJing publicly as Jesse Jamz.

“The thing I like about DJing is the interaction,” he says. “When you’re playing to a packed club and everyone is losing it, it’s an amazing feeling.”

He also notes, “It’s pretty ridiculous how much money you can make for playing music for 90 minutes, especially the kind of money the big guys are making.”

Mostly self-taught, he also benefited from advice from mentors Mark Palgy and the aforementioned Craig Pfunder, leaders of VHS or Beta; the duo have also become popular DJs on the side. Today, at 24, See Tai has changed his professional nom-de-dance to Black Matter and has released some of his own music.

It’s here where Black Matter stands out from most of the crowd in Louisville — while some have begun making their own music, most are still in the early stages or just not interested. If live bands make their money from touring and licensing, most DJs today who make it out of their hometowns succeed by writing and producing. Rihanna can’t dub those steps alone, after all.

“Production is what gets you booked now,” says See Tai. “You can’t just be a DJ. Unless you’re a huge artist, you probably won’t make much for sales, but you could still make money from licensing.”

It’s why Carol Hamilton, who DJs as Lady Carol, is beginning to produce some of her own music.

“I’ve got the DJ thing down pat, but now I’m trying to get my own sound out there,” she says. “There’s nothing like playing your own tracks at a club.”

While the media has tried to explain the DJ surge by calling them “the new rock stars,” and rockers like My Morning Jacket’s Jim James (DJ Cap’n Goodies) and Wax Fang’s Scott Carney (DJ Captain Howdy) have dipped their toes into the pool, full-time DJs — several of whom have also played in rock bands — are noticeably hesitant to agree with such a label.

“I do think it’s something different,” is the opinion of Alex Bell, aka A-Bell of OK Deejays, who DJ at Zanzabar on Fridays. “I don’t think DJs have — as they shouldn’t — the showmanship of a guitar-wielding, live, singing rock star.”

His partner, Aaron Chadwell, known as DJ Narwhal, adds, “I don’t even know if there are rock stars anymore.”

But Crabtree maintains it’s both musicianship and the ability to perform that sets some DJs apart.

“They are music producers, not just DJs. They write music. They do the legwork for Justin Bieber tracks. They are highly intelligent computer nerds. A lot of them are accomplished musicians in the classical sense. They just perform their music a little differently than Nirvana did. Ultimately, the music that they write would be impossible to perform live, so they DJ it.

“It might seem ridiculous, but it’s not,” he continues. “It’s still a performance. It’s hard to explain. But yes, DJs ultimately enjoy rock-star status. Follow Diplo on Twitter, and you’ll know what I mean.”

Crabtree’s GlitterTitz partner, Jamey See Tai — DJ Black Matter’s brother — laughs at the question. “I’m sure to some kids they are. I definitely give more credit to the DJs who are also producing music. Some of those dudes are making some really awesome tracks. On the other hand, I also think a lot of DJs look really foolish ‘rockin’ out’ on stage while not really doing anything. But you gotta keep the crowd hyped, I guess.”

It’s that ability to keep the crowd hyped that pushes the locals to the next level. Adjusting their sets on the fly is one element the majority of DJs have in common. It’s almost like performing stand-up comedy — most wade gently into their set, feeling out the crowd.

“It’s improv, man, you don’t know what you’re gonna get,” says DJ Matt Anthony. A veteran of the local scene and a regular host on WFPK, Anthony differs from many DJs because he mostly spins classic soul, Latin and jazz sounds, instead of current hip-hop, house or nu-disco records. At an ongoing gig at the Maker’s Mark Lounge at Fourth Street Live, Anthony was tasked with entertaining crowds ranging from Wal-Mart distribution conventioneers to an all-African-American 1983 high school class reunion.

“You’re trying to manipulate people with sounds; it’s not even songs,” he says. “The electronic guys have proven that. You don’t even need a hook, a song. You can make people dance if you get the right crowd and the right vibe going … Reading the crowd is what it’s all about.”

He says an older DJ told him: “‘Your job is to create hysteria. And you can’t plan on that.’ I always think about that, and I love it. You have to make people go crazy. Until I’ve done that, I don’t feel like I’ve earned my pay yet.”

Sometimes, engaging the crowd requires a little bit of bait and switch.

“You can’t please everyone with every track, so you find clever ways of tricking them into liking things they normally wouldn’t,” Crabtree notes. “Like putting a hip-hop beat behind a Metallica track.”

It’s a trick known to fans of internationally popular acts like Girl Talk. McKnight booked the mash-up favorite in 2007 as a Forecastle Festival headliner. After McKnight’s mother picked up another festival band at the airport, she told him how they had expressed unease at playing on the same bill as the DJ. “They talked about how it was a fad and was going to fade. (How) it had zero staying power, more or less a trend for high school adolescents.”

Now, McKnight says, Girl Talk makes seven times what the festival paid the act back then. “I haven’t heard anything about the other band since.”

Black Matter’s Jesse See Tai agrees with the notion that a DJ must be clever about working the crowd. “When I first started playing here in Louisville, I remember how tough it was to keep everyone happy and dancing … it was almost like I had to trick them into liking what I played. I’d play one song I knew they’d like and then a couple that I liked. Everyone likes familiarity, so you have to make them feel comfortable but, at the same time, introduce new unfamiliar things.”

“Things have changed a lot since then, though,” he adds. “Due to the growth of electronic music in mainstream media, it’s a lot easier for someone who isn’t necessarily into electronic music to go out and have a good time dancing to music they don’t know.”

Jon Paul Hill, aka JP Source, has developed a philosophical approach to his weekly DJ night at Meat.

“I think you just have to do your best at doing your thing. I’ve had gigs where I tried desperately to please everyone, and that’s usually a disastrous approach. It’s pretty nice when people tell you that they ‘usually don’t listen to this kind of thing’ but they enjoyed what you played.”

Though many of the DJs interviewed for this story enjoy pop music, this isn’t a Top 40 group. “I can easily pinpoint the worst experiences as being Top 40 gigs,” says Mark Nelson, who makes his living as gothic and industrial DJ Count Grozny and hosts a monthly “Queer Dance Party” at the Haymarket Whiskey Bar. “Although they can pay well, you have little-to-no artistic liberty.”

And most agree passionately on the issue of requests.

“If you request a song I have, I’ll probably play it at some point in the night,” says OK Deejays’ Chadwell. “But don’t expect me to play any Top 40 in the near future … or ever.”

Sam Sneed, who shares Saturdays at Seidenfaden’s bar in Paristown with Chadwell, is a little more adamant: “Never request!” shouts Sneed, who also co-hosts (with OK Deejays) “Night Visions Radio,” WFPK’s weeknight dance music hour. “I usually have a set planned out, and it’s hard for me to fit in everyone’s love of the Black Eyed Peas and Skrillex.”

But GlitterTitz DJ Jamey See Tai says it goes both ways. “You just have to feel it out. Also, the crowd needs to feel the DJ out. If you are at our party for even just an hour, you should know better than to come up and request Phish. That’s just not gonna happen. True story.”

Matt Anthony walks into an unfamiliar room with crates of records in his arms, purposely trying to get the crowd to see that he’s “a real DJ,” to use his phrase. He wants to work the crowd before the first note hits.

Some of the more popular DJs in Louisville have built up their audience over the past few years, increasing the trust level between them and their regulars. It wasn’t always easy, especially for those who tried in an earlier era.

VHS or Beta’s Pfunder “started playing wherever in Louisville they would let us set up our tables. Friends’ bars, apartments, warehouses, indie shows … really, wherever we could. At first, it was a real pain in the ass. The locals weren’t taking too kindly to four-on-the-floor beats. They’d jump up and down and make our records skip. Or just run into the table and point and laugh.”

Today, though, Pfunder and Palgy can look at their passports and have the last laugh. “We’ve toured around the world as DJs: Sydney, Paris, London, Bangkok, Mexico City, Buenos Aires, São Paulo, Santiago, Bogota, to name a few, and I’ll be playing a couple sets soon in China,” Pfunder says, adding with a laugh, “DJing is easy compared to touring with a band, and for that, I’m grateful. Seriously. Show up and boom. No soundcheck. Just play.”

His protégé Black Matter has toured all over the United States and in Canada, Europe, Asia and Central America, but not every night has been a success. One of See Tai’s worst nights at work was at a warehouse rave in Los Angeles’ Compton neighborhood.

“There was this huge dog chained up outside in the parking lot, and we just thought we were about to get jumped or something. We get into the venue and go onstage, and they have the shittiest gear possible, so we’re trying to swap out equipment during this other guy’s set, and it was just a mess. Of course, getting paid ended up being an ordeal, too, and I got paid in all fives and ones,” he laughs.

OK Deejays have had their best nights in Louisville, most recently at a warehouse party they threw a couple of years ago that drew more than a thousand people. They also opened for the Arcade Fire and LCD Soundsystem at Waterfront Park in 2007, which drew several thousand. “It was easily the biggest system I’ve played through,” Chadwell recalls.

The duo is somewhat unique locally as they also book and promote other DJs (and the odd live band) from all over the world — Rome, London, Brazil and more, 20 in the past year alone. Chadwell sees it as an investment in the local culture. “I could pay my bills from DJing (alone), but then I wouldn’t have much extra cash for bringing in out-of-town DJs or bands to play our fine city.”

One complaint shared by some of the local talent is a lack of suitable venues.

“There are some talented DJs but not a lot of fun nights,” says Jesse See Tai. “I feel like Louisville (people) aren’t comfortable with clubs; they like going to bars. But if people want something to happen, it’s up to them to support it.”

The problem is numbers, according to Nelson, aka Count Grozny. “There simply aren’t enough people to support more underground and niche genres and sub-genres.”

“I’m hoping that people in Louisville appreciate our growing dance scene and don’t take it for granted,” Chadwell says. “Otherwise, the good shows will dry up, and we’ll be stuck seeing the same local folks each week.”

Assuming the scene continues to move on up, does the current class see itself continuing into their 40s and 50s, like Tom Petty or Wilco?

VHS or Beta’s Pfunder and Hill see a long future of DJing ahead, even if it does get to be a bit awkward. Pfunder says, “Yes, I’ll be DJing for my kids, probably in 20 years, and they’ll be like, “Dad, you’re so embarrassing!”

Hill replies, “I would like to be making music in 10-20 years, for sure, but I’m positive it’s going to be utterly weird shit that will embarrass my family.”

GlitterTitz’s Crabtree is characteristically blunt about their future. “It’s hard to say. We both write music, and we’re trying to put it out there like the next guy. We’re just gonna ride the train as far as it takes us, I guess. One weekend at a time.”

Additional reporting by Damien McPherson.

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

Rock ’n’ roll high school

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The most buzzed-about young band in Louisville today might be its youngest. Drummer Cameron Lowe formed The Debauchees with guitarist/vocalist Sydney Chadwick and bassist Ashley Bowen, who sat down with LEO to talk tunes. Newly signed to Sonablast Records, they open for labelmates Nerves Junior at the Monkey Wrench tonight, March 6, at 9 p.m.

LEO: How did the band get started?

Sydney Chadwick: We met in (Eastern) high school, freshman year. (Ashley) was in my computer class, and she wore Tripp pants at that time (laughs).

Ashley Bowen: I had black and purple.

SC: I was just, like, “Whatever …”

AB: We just sat next to each other and did our work, and then she left in the middle of the year and just never came back.

LEO: Did you go to another school? Or you just left?

SC: I just left. I said to my mom that I was gonna home-school myself. She didn’t really know much about home-schooling anyway (laughs). You can’t really home-school yourself and get a diploma. I just read and stuff.

LEO: Are you done with self-teaching yet?

SC: Nope. Not at all.

AB: I graduated last year. Cameron’s a senior right now, he’s graduating this year.

LEO: How did you meet him?

AB: He went to Eastern, too, freshman year. And then he left school, too (laughs) … The summer before junior year, I was walking on Hurstbourne, and then Cameron messaged me on Facebook. He was, like, “I saw you walking on Hurstbourne, we should hang out.” I was, like, “What? I haven’t talked to this kid in 10 years.”

So I went over to his house and he taught me how to play bass, which was pretty interesting, ’cause I’d never touched a bass. And then he goes, “I know this chick, she can sing pretty well, and she plays guitar. So we can all hang out.” Now we’re best friends.

Follow The Debauchees at facebook.com/thedebauchees.

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

Whitehorse’s loud live life

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Whitehorse released their second full-length album, the memorably titled The Fate of the World Depends on This Kiss, last year, but they’re not exactly newcomers to the music business. Melissa McClelland and Luke Doucet established themselves in their native Canada well before their 2006 marriage helped them decide to make beautiful music together full-time.

Doucet began his career in the ’90s with the alt-rock band Veal and has since distinguished himself as one of the best guitarists of his generation. He joined Sarah McLachlan’s band at 19, a connection that would eventually lead him to produce three solo albums by McClelland, who often sang backing vocals for the star.

While both had their own careers, it only made sense to merge their musical desires as well. If nothing else, they would now be able to travel together, instead of being apart for months at a time, making their lives easier.

“Yeah — in most cases,” says McClelland, who laughs playfully at the idea. “No, it definitely is. For most people (in bands), you’re leaving somebody behind, so you’re always looking for when you get to go back home.”

As Whitehorse has picked up momentum over the past few years, they’ve made the road their home. They haven’t seen their Ontario home in almost a year, but are happy to get to do what makes them happiest.

Their full-time pairing began as a fun exercise, but McClelland says when they realized how rewarding it could be, they decided to take it more seriously, even taking on a new name that risked having to re-introduce themselves. They didn’t need to worry — people caught on quickly, and the Internet, which loves to discover new things, has helped them re-brand as a new thing, as opposed to the 30-something industry vets they actually are.

While they began playing together full-time five years ago, under their given names, it’s only in the last two that they became Whitehorse, taking the name from a remote northern Canada town. “It’s nice that we finally have a thing that originally felt like a side project, and now it’s completely taken over,” McClelland says. “It’s grown to be bigger than either of our solo projects before. It feels like an all-or-nothing thing right now.”

The pair reached another professional highlight last year when they headlined a concert at Toronto’s Massey Hall, the Carnegie Hall of Canada, open since 1894. To celebrate, they put together a live EP, The Road to Massey Hall, released last month. The collection was worked up from a set of songs by some of their favorite fellow Canadian songwriters, including Ron Sexsmith, Gordon Lightfoot, Blue Rodeo and Neil Young (who has also released his own Massey Hall live album).

“We’re from the Toronto area, so that’s the hall I grew up not far from,” McClelland says. “I saw so many people play at Massey Hall; I saw Gordon Lightfoot play there a couple times. It’s one of those legendary places, where, if you’re a kid and you know you want to grow up and be a musician, you have dreams of playing a room like that. When we booked that room, we knew it was significant for us, personally. We wanted to do something to celebrate that fact.”

While they pay homage to their past, they are also very much a modern band, utilizing technology to make their duo sound as electric and full as possible.

“Our show involves a lot more than just the two of us,” McClelland explains. “We have a looping pedal that we use quite a bit. We have drums, we have bass, we have tons of guitars, keys, lots of weird little mics and some percussion … the songs are quite different from the record, in a way. But then we strip it down and we share a single condenser mic and do Johnny-and-June style songs. So it’s kind of back and forth, between two stations, if you will.”

“It kind of grew into this monster,” she continues, detailing how the duo evolved from folk to fuzz. “It’s fun. It’s a lot for us to wrap our heads around musically, but I think that’s what makes the show good. We’re kind of risking it on stage every night.”

Whitehorse with Daniel Romano
Friday, March 8
Zanzabar
2100 S. Preston St.
zanzabarlouisville.ticketfly.com
$10-$12; 8 p.m.

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

Pleased to squeeze me: Accordion/banjo/tuba/drums quartet returns for more fun

One of those bands who demand the use of non-words like “funnest,” the satirically avant-garde Squeeze-bot are releasing their second studio album, Sweet Dreams Are Made of Squeeze, featuring versions of songs by Charles Mingus, The Beatles, Rufus Wainwright and more, as well as the theme for “The Price is Right.” LEO asked accordion-playing leader Todd Hildreth for some quasi-answers.

LEO: The first Squeeze-bot album came out five years ago. Why did you make fans wait?

Todd Hildreth: We have this perfectionism in the studio. Take after take, we record. No one can screw up, or we all do it over again. It took us three weeks just to lay the Jew’s harp part down on “Funky Town.” Then came the overdubs and numerous computer crashes due to information overload. Once, the power went out in the whole block as we were doubling the accordion solo on “White Rabbit” six octaves below middle C. Fires erupted in the neighborhood without explanation. A “punishment box” was designed for those who couldn’t get their part down quickly enough, followed by a staff therapist to undo the damage of having to go into the box.

The empty pizza boxes piled up to the point where we couldn’t see each other any more. Then, one night … well, let me just say that the answer to “What does this button do?” is best left rhetorical. We lost it all. Finally, someone suggested we just pretend it’s a live show and set up some mics and play like we always do. It seemed dumb at first, but it actually kind of worked well.

LEO: All of the songs on this collection are covers. Have any band members wanted, or tried, to write originals?

TH: So far, our interest has been in reinterpretation or, more specifically, playing tunes the way they should have been played in the first place but weren’t due to the original performer’s lack of accordion, banjo, tuba and tiny drum skills. There are just too many songs out there that just don’t sound right due to the insistence on electric guitars and synthesizers. And don’t get me started on vocals … The entire catalog of pop, rock and jazz has been sorely misrepresented. There’s a whole generation out there who seem to think a whammy bar is cooler than a bellow shake. It’s sad, really.

LEO: With a vast and diverse amount of songs from which to choose, how did you decide on these?

TH: Many times in the process of recording, someone would just put down their instrument and stop playing because they had to go to the bathroom or wanted another piece of pizza or something like that. Texting was a big problem as well. There were, however, about 11 takes that, for some reason, we were all able to stay in position from beginning to end. It was generally agreed upon that these 11 would best suit the needs of the album.

LEO: What does each member add to the musical chemistry? Will the sound, or vibe, change much with a new tuba man?

TH: The accordion takes the lead (as it should) on most parts, and the banjo takes the lead (as it should) on the others. We let the tuba and drums have solos sometimes, but they tend to get more applause than ours, which totally isn’t cool. So, I would look for less tuba and drum solos in the future.

Feb. 22: Meat
1076 E. Washington St.
Free; 11 p.m.

Feb. 24: Nachbar
969 Charles St.
Free; 8 p.m.

Photo by Andrew Raitz

Here
c. 2013 LEO Weekly

album review: Discount Guns

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Discount Guns
Odessa
(SELF-RELEASED)

Frequently sounding like they’re in a hurry to beat back the other revival-rock bands in the region, Discount Guns can be credited with doing a fine job of breathing new life into not-unfamiliar sounds. As in debt to early ’70’s classic-rock groove bands as they are to today’s Black Keys and friends, the two men who make up Discount Guns issue a thick yet clear fog of riffs, defying anyone within earshot to not shake that ass. The occasional female backing vocal adds to the ambiance, as the DeadBird Studios team’s solid, steady production keeps this collection focused and crisp. Sounding familiar and occasionally provocative, Discount Guns are damn good at what they do, and that’s a surprisingly hard quality to find. So, guys, what’s next?

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

album review: Gabe Close

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Gabe Close
Sounds for an Old Soul
(SELF-RELEASED)

For many people, the music they discover as teens stays with them throughout life, continuing to inform and reinforce their taste and musical decision-making. Though it’s hard to tell when Gabe Close grew up, the imprint of the heartland songwriters of the 1980s continually soaks the songs on the seriously titled Sounds for an Old Soul, recalling the earnest approaches of Bryan Adams or acoustic, sensitive Bon Jovi. Close seems disinterested in the evolution of singer-songwriters over the past 25 years, as songs like “Ain’t No Blues in Heaven” and “It’s Gonna Rain Tonight” merely bring to mind latter-day Henley or Seger. While Close’s instrumental skills on guitar are fine, and contributors such as vocalist Molly Greer and stringman Steve Cooley add lovely textures, this Old Soul could benefit from a less old-fashioned approach.

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

album review: Dawn McCarthy & Bonnie “Prince” Billy

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Dawn McCarthy & Bonnie “Prince” Billy
What the Brothers Sang
(DRAG CITY)

Here’s title No. 161 for the BPB completist to add to his library. It’s ostensibly a collection of Everly Brothers songs, though Everly fans looking for classics like “All I Have to Do is Dream” will have to dream on, as most of the songs here are more obscure. This won’t matter to younger fans, and both Bonnie and McCarthy’s vocals are, as usual, worth the price of admission; if you can find a better duo today, I’ll burn my Dolly & Kenny records. For Bonnie fans, there’s also the factor that he has, once again, hired skilled Nashville studio hands, so if you’re like me and prefer his rag-tag groups of indie rockers who sound like they just learned the songs earlier this morning, this band may leave you feeling too dry. Essential? No. Fun? Overall, yes.

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

Nerves Junior: The Sequel

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Local buzz band realigns, returns for another shot

Nerves Junior’s 2011 debut album, As Bright As Your Night Light, hit a sweet spot with bloggers, bookers and fans around the country, earning the young Louisville band a spot at New York’s CMJ festival. But problems inside the band were starting to tear them apart, and within a year, half the band was gone.

Then-drummer Zack O’Renick says, “We weren’t making the best decisions” after the first album was finished, when the band was still getting to know each other, “and (since-departed members Stuart Phelps and Cory Wayne) weren’t able to start making better decisions … The decisions (guitarist) Chris (Snow) and I made allowed us to continue playing music, and to be reliable to each other.”

“Whatever specific thing you’re doing outside of the band doesn’t matter,” Snow says, “as long as you’re focused on band stuff. And the focus went away — not showing up for band practice, not calling your friends to tell them you won’t be at band practice …”

In 2012, O’Renick and Snow faced some tough choices: whether to keep the band going, keep the same name or start over, and whether they could find new members who might share their passion. It was a lot to consider, especially as Nerves Junior was already booked for some festival dates, which were coming up soon.

Now in early 2013, Nerves Junior has “reorganized,” as they call it, with new members Brey McCoy (drums) and Brennon Staples (bass), both friends of O’Renick’s since high school. They have a new three-song EP, Craters. The songs came from a period the founding pair spent writing in the month leading up to their date at the Forecastle Festival last July. They worked on the songs all night, every day, after work, to have enough new material for a half-hour set.

“We wanted to record with (engineer) Kevin (Ratterman) again,” Snow says, “but we didn’t have a huge budget like we did for the first record.”

“We didn’t really want a huge budget,” interjects O’Renick, who has moved from drums to vocals.

“Yeah, that’s more money that’s on your shoulders in the first place,” Snow continues. Because it had been a while since the band had released any new music, and they were still adjusting to writing with the new members, they decided to release a smaller EP to put their name back out there, something focused and efficient.

O’Renick says, “(The songs were) three things that were fairly relevant to us, and we just took a swing at it. They’re all about the idea of overcoming something, being in a moment of realization where you do overcome something — super-relevant to us in the last year.”

Now they’re gearing up to play at the huge SXSW festival in Austin for the first time, where they won’t have to worry about past associations.

“We’ve always been into the darker side of things (musically),” says Snow, but reflecting on the newfound momentum “just seemed appropriate at the time.” If they had worked on the same songs three months earlier, they would have come out sounding more downtrodden. But now, “It seemed what was natural was a dark melody, but with just a little twinge of ‘It’s gonna be all right.’”

Nerves Junior
with Jalin Roze, Introvert and Montego
Friday, Feb. 15
Zanzabar
2100 S. Preston St.
zanzabarlouisville.ticketfly.com
$8; 9 p.m.

Photo by Joey Flispart

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

New adults on the block

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Neighbor is a heavy band with some heavy thoughts on their mind. They celebrate the release of their first full-length album, Neighbor, with a release show at Zanzabar on Friday. LEO asked guitarist Sean Gardner about the new record, which was produced by Trip Barriger at Treehouse Audio.

LEO: Who writes what? What inspires the songwriting?

Sean Gardner: I find the term “inspiration” problematic. Writing is a matter of work, not divine revelation. In our case, the labor is collective — beginning with a small idea for a single instrument and expanding with rapport among the band.

LEO: I detect a somewhat militaristic sound at times, at least on “Hordes.” Is this intentional?

SG: “Hordes,” especially, is organized around violent sounds — scratches, alarms, explosions. The marching call-and-response that begins that song is intended to evoke something like an imminent social violence. And what we mean to express is an anxiety that underlies and spews from such a violence.

LEO: How has playing in Neighbor been different for you from playing in Bu Hao Ting or Twenty First Century Fox?

SG: There are plenty of technical and conceptual disparities between those three bands. But it’s the result of more than a dozen rather unique individuals engaged in a common, collaborative process. Neighbor may be dynamically aggressive, BHT primitive and atonal, or TFCF melodically infectious, but these qualities are results of the same procedure — sharing ideas among friends.

LEO: When someone discovers this record in 80 years, what would you want them to think about it?

SG: Nothing. We just want to incite arousal.

Listen at neighborusa.bandcamp.com.

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

Super fuzz

Weird Girl was never a girl. The band first popped up on the online music site Bandcamp, where, as a guitars-and-drums duo, they released a series of singles and EPs last fall, available for free downloading. The band, now a trio, is finishing work on their first full-length album, Bad Friends. They sat down with LEO for their first interview.

“We liked the idea of a two-piece, it was a lot of fun,” says singer/guitarist Ryan Hater, “but adding Brady (McAfee) as a permanent member on the bass, it was for the best, definitely.”

Hater and drummer Basil Connor Martin had played in bands together, but they call Weird Girl their first serious band. They waited a few months before playing their first show, having previously booked shows and then written songs to play on a deadline. This time, they wanted to do it right.

So they learned from doing it the hard way, eh? “We learned from doing it the stupid way,” laughs Martin.

Adding McAfee has changed their direction a bit, too, from the first seven songs heard on Bandcamp.

“They’re all songs that we’re still proud of, that we really like,” says Hater, but the band is progressing.

The full-length features 10 songs. “There’s not a whole lot in town that sounds like it,” Hater says. “I’m not sure it fits into a scene,” though they do identify as “Post-Skull Alley kids.”

“My ambition for it is that it will be a bunch of songs that will make kids want to drive around town listening to it,” Hater says. “That’s what we did in high school.”

Martin cites ’70s rock and ’80s New Wave as influences, naming The Go-Gos and The Cars. “Really poppy, easily accessible. But also, we’re a rock ’n’ roll band.”

“We don’t just want to be a grunge band, or a fuzz band, or just a pop band,” Hater adds. “We want to put it all together as much as we can.”

Listen at weirdgirl.bandcamp.com.

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c. 2013 LEO Weekly

Time traveling man

My Morning Jacket leader Jim James steps out on his own

"Music has always come to me through a friend or through a film, and I just want to receive that invitation. I follow it as far as I can through the wormhole until I receive another invitation that I want to follow more.”

James Edward Olliges Jr. was born in Louisville on April 27, 1978. By the fourth grade, he had already made some of his life’s strongest friendships, including future drummers Dave Givan and Patrick Hallahan. By his teens, Olliges was playing with friends in bands, such as Month of Sundays, Two Shotguns and Hotel Roy, forgotten to all but Louisville music scene veterans and superfans.

Along the way, he took the stage name Jim James. The new handle reflected his absurdist sense of humor, as well as the fact that many people were unable to pronounce his given name. He also liked that it sounded like the name of a gunslinger.

In the late ’90s, while an art student at the University of Kentucky, he submitted a demo of songs to a handful of record labels, including a small indie in California called Darla. When Darla’s owners heard James’ demo, sent under the name My Morning Jacket, even though it was only James at that point, Darla offered a deal. The Tennessee Fire, the first full-length album by My Morning Jacket, was released in 1999.

After an even more highly acclaimed second album with Darla, At Dawn, in 2001, the band signed to a major label, the RCA-owned ATO Records. Since then, My Morning Jacket has released four more studio albums and become one of the most popular live bands in the world, appearing on “Saturday Night Live” and becoming animated in an “American Dad!” episode inspired by and starring the band.

They’ve performed in movies, been featured on magazine covers, and become such a big music festival attraction that when they play at Tennessee’s massive Bonnaroo Festival, it’s expected that they will play at last three hours, Springsteen-style; anything less would disappoint.

My Morning Jacket closed out 2012 in the style they wrap up every year these days: three nights in New York, followed by a New Year’s Eve concert in Boston. On Jan. 2, they played a Hurricane Sandy benefit in Asbury Park, N.J. James spoke with LEO over the next two days, beginning with a phone conversation from the Newark airport and continuing later in Louisville.

The official occasion for these discussions was James’ first full-length solo album, Regions of Light and Sound of God, which will be released Feb. 5. The album often departs sonically from the guitar-based sound he’s known for with My Morning Jacket. Its source of inspiration was also surprising.

While working on My Morning Jacket’s album Evil Urges, released in 2008, a friend gave him a copy of a book called “Gods’ Man.” It would spark a creative epiphany.

Created by Lynd Ward and published in 1929, “Gods’ Man” uses woodcut images rather than words to tell the story of an artist’s struggles. Upon the book’s release, New York World newspaper wrote, “The emotional effect of this book is tremendous … It will make a novel and exciting gift for a friend who is sick to death of meaningless words.”

James, who opened My Morning Jacket’s 2005 album Z with a song called “Wordless Chorus,” says, “I was really struck by the book, and I started scoring it in the hopes that it would become a film, in some form.”

Over the next four years, what began as a hypothetical film score evolved into the songs that became Regions of Light and Sound of God. During that time, James says, “Thoughts started creeping in … that had more to do with my life than the book — although some of the lyrics have to do with the book. Probably about half-and-half.”

The songs came out in chunks, he says, but they all wanted to be together. He began composing his score on an iPad, because the screen-flipping effect made it feel more cinematic. James hadn’t planned on making a solo album, but over the years he had built a home studio. When he’d get off the road, he’d work on more songs.

Previously, before making My Morning Jacket records, James would work on demos at home “to try and figure out what I want(ed) the record to be.” But in the 2007 sessions for Evil Urges, producer Joe Chiccarelli pointed out how James’ elaborate pre-production work, what James calls “super-duper intense demos, almost like a record themselves,” was affecting his creative energy.

“I put all this shit in there like keyboards, drum machines, and made the record before we even made the record. And several times throughout the sessions, I found myself butting up against a wall, where I couldn’t beat the demo I had made.”

Now James fights the urge to make demos. “I’ll just record an idea on the voice memo on my phone so I won’t forget it, but I’ll wait until I’m with the guys to turn it into a real song. That’s what we did for (2011’s) Circuital, and it worked out a lot better. We had a lot more fun with it.”

The songs that became Regions of Light and Sound of God “started popping out,” he says, and he invited lifelong friend Givan to play drums on most of the album. Emily Hagihara added percussion, and other friends joined in on strings: frequent collaborator Ben Sollee on cello, fellow Louisvillian Scott Moore on violin and viola, and New Yorker Adriana Molello, also on violin. “Everything besides that, I played myself,” James says.

Though he worked on most of Regions of Light at home, he moved to a room in local recording engineer Kevin Ratterman’s studio for a month to finish it.

“I just got this crazy kind of déjà vu when I saw (“Gods’ Man”), when I held it,” James says. “My friend gave me one of the original pressings of it. It was all yellow and crazy looking. When I held it for the first time, it totally smacked me in the face. I felt like I had known it from back then, from whatever life I lived back then. I knew it and loved it somehow. So when I saw it again, it’s like I already knew it.”

He loved the art deco presentation of the book, as he loves many cultural artifacts from that 1920s/’30s era. “Holding an original pressing from that time in my hand … there’s just something about the pattern of it that echoes, resonates really deep in my brain.”

For James, the idea of time travel appeals to him, “… just being a huge music nerd, always looking to be turned on to something new from whenever or wherever. The world’s just such a giant place. The span of recorded-music time that we can travel to is so short in the span of how long music has been around.”

“I don’t know, I’m just fascinated with it,” he adds. “I want to learn as much as I can about … everything. I’m always searching for new things.”

Since last May, James has been co-hosting, with Givan, a weekly program that can only be heard on local public radio station 91.9 WFPK or streaming online as it airs. “Sir Microcosm,” which airs Wednesdays at 8 p.m., has a time traveling theme, as the pair bounce around from music by Hank Williams to David Bowie, Dirty Projectors to Count Basie, Harry Belafonte to Frank Ocean.

Even as kids, for James and his friends, music was everything.

“I think it started as an escape … because you can travel into these different worlds in your mind. For me, it’s always fleeting glimpses or fleeting flashes — you’ll go see a movie set in the ’20s, and you’ll catch a little piece of music that you like, and you’ll want to explore that more.”

James is very close to his family and friends back home, despite spending a lot of time on the road. “I don’t know, I guess you could take it back to the time travel thing. I like slipping into different portals and slipping down different wormholes and different worlds.”

But it’s all about finding a balance: If he’s home for too long, he gets antsy. If he doesn’t have time to create, he gets antsy. If he’s on the road too long, he wants to be home.

“The one frustrating thing about the way I live life is so much of my life is planned so far in advance,” he says. “You’re planning New Year’s Eve in the summer, and you’re planning summer on New Year’s Eve.

“By the time you get to those points in time, sometimes you’re ready for what you planned and sometimes you’re not. You have no way of knowing how you’re going to feel six months into the future when you have to commit to it now.”

Still, he’s working on plans for a tour, where his band will include Givan on drums, Ratterman on samples and percussion, and a pair he met through Sollee, pianist Dan Dorf and bassist Alana Rocklin. “So I’ve got a band formed. We haven’t played yet, but we’re gonna do that soon and see if we can figure out how to … get it all figured out.”

He confirms Louisville as a destination on the tour. “Oh, yeah. We’ll definitely play a show here.” On Monday, James announced details of the show, which will be April 17 at the Brown Theatre. Tickets go on sale Feb. 1 for $31, with $1 of each ticket sold going to the cancer research and treatment hospital City of Hope.

Though a crucial element, the story of “Gods’ Man” did not inspire all of Regions of Light and Sound of God. The opener, “State of the Art (A.E.I.O.U.),” came from James’ conflicted feelings about technology. “I love technology, and I love working in technology. If you’re in music nowadays, most of the innovation that happens is inside the computer,” he says. “If you’re not using the computer, you’re not on the cutting edge of what is happening.”

At the same time, he sees “a really cool thing happening right now in the world.” One of his sisters has an organic farm, where her family grows their own food. Another is a midwife, helping women deliver children in their own homes. James thinks such a movement has come up as a response to technology; he fears a future in which even a business like Kroger can’t maintain a physical presence, “because you can print out your groceries from your computer.”

The computers are going to gobble up the world, he says. “That’s kind of the moral of the song — have siblings who can grow food so you can live after the end of the world,” he laughs.

The second song, “Know Til Now,” was the first song released online to get fans excited about the album. James wrote it “musically, thematically, to be the sound of progress in ‘Gods’ Man.’ The sound of The Artist making his way into the city, advancing up the ranks, climbing up the ladder.”

“The song is mostly one-half of that, then there’s an ending that’s completely different … The Artist is at the reception for his show that’s super-successful. High society is there, toasting him and cheering him.”

On a more personal level, it’s also about how we all do things that make sense at the time, but “… you look back on it now, it’s the stupidest thing you ever did. But back then, you didn’t know any better.”

It’s a theme that also ties into one of the last songs on the album, “All Is Forgiven,” a topic that’s been weighing on James. About the song, he says, “Lyrically, at least from the way I looked at it, it was just … that everything can be forgiven.

“That’s something I think about a lot, for any time I’ve hurt somebody, or done something that I shouldn’t have done … I think, if you hurt a person, you pray for forgiveness and hope that the world, or that person, can find a way to forgive you.”

He has a “pretty clear” conscience, “But I’ve hurt a lot of people I didn’t even know I was hurting, and I feel like that’s what happened to The Artist in the end of the book. He didn’t even know what he was getting into until it was too late. So he’s hoping for that forgiveness.”

His most colorful description of a passage from the book comes when relaying his inspiration for the song “Actress.”

“She becomes his muse — there’s this really amazing scene where he’s painting her portrait, she’s nude, and he looks closer and sees a dollar bill tattooed on her shoulder and realizes she’s a whore who’s just been conning him the whole time,” James laughs. “He realizes he’s been duped and he’s running all over the city, trying to seek refuge … fucking crazy, you’ve got to look at this book.

“He runs to the church to seek refuge there, but the priest is fucking the girl; he runs to the park, and the girl’s fucking the cop. Everywhere he goes, he sees this girl’s face on every girl, everywhere, in all these places where you’re supposed to seek help. So that was meant to go with that. It isn’t personally written about anyone that I know.”

Though lauded for his guitar playing, James downplays the instrument on his solo record, focusing more on sensual keyboards and strings, reflections of his love for 1970s soul and funk music. It isn’t until the third song, “Dear One,” that a guitar is featured viscerally.

“I get to play guitar so much in My Morning Jacket, I really didn’t feel a need to play it as much in this,” James says. “I mean, there is guitar on the record, but not in the normal way. I wanted it to be more subliminal. Or, like in ‘Dear One,’ I wanted it to be hyper-realized, like a computer was beating the guitar.”

For James, the occasion to write a “computer beating a guitar” song came from a love story. It was written for a passage in the book when The Artist has fallen off a cliff and landed in a field. A woman finds him, and they fall in love.

“There’s a beautiful scene in this big field at night, stars are shining, it’s just a beautiful point in the book,” he says. “‘Dear One’ was written to be the music for those scenes, where they’re falling in love, and it was written from my point of view. We’re all trying to fall in love, and … just how important that is, that feeling is.”

The next song, “A New Life,” reflects the consummation of that love. The Artist and the woman have a child and are now a family, running through the fields together. It’s the happiest point in the book. About those lyrics, James says, “Everything is echoing from my life, too, things that were going on back then — but I didn’t have a child.”

In his mind, James has a map of his intended score for the book. For the purposes of his album, however, it’s not a literal retelling of the story from beginning to end. “I looked at this record in two ways. I wanted this record to be itself and be in an order I wanted it to be, independent of ‘Gods’ Man.’ And if ‘Gods’ Man’ does ever get turned into a film, then there’ll be a soundtrack that goes with that. Maybe some of these songs will be on it.”

But past experience in the film world has made James cautious about that process. “I’ve worked on two different film scores now that I got fired from,” he says with a laugh, “(because) they were too weird. The movies, I always end up being incredibly frustrated that I can’t control (them).”

He collaborated on two scores with composer Brian Reitzell, who has worked frequently with director Sofia Coppola. The first was for “The Beaver,” the what-were-they-thinking movie by Mel Gibson and Jodie Foster about a man who communicates with a hand puppet. After scoring the entire film, the pair was replaced.

“It was ‘too weird,’ and they realized the film was gonna tank,” James says now, still bruised by the experience. “I’m really glad it happened, because the film is horrible. They just needed more blatantly obvious music. It’s the kind of thing, too, where it’s like a break-up — maybe they just hated the music we wrote and it’s horrible. But I think it’s awesome. Me and Brian really believe in it, and someday we’ll do something with it.”

The other movie was an indie called “Goats,” which, according to James, also turned out horrible. “And I say that because I have a right to say that, because I feel like both of those could have turned out good. I feel like they were both cases of directors letting Hollywood tell them what to do with their art and fucking themselves. If they would have listened to themselves and listened to their conscience and listened to their gut, they could’ve made a really great film.”

It’s another preoccupation for James — instinct. “I really believe in intuition and in your gut. We all have this force inside of us that, if we just listen to it, it would always set us on the right path. But a lot of times we don’t listen to it … I think that’s the biggest gift we were given.”

Despite the setbacks, James values his experience in the film world, which also includes two attempts to work with The Muppets. It felt natural, but losing control was frustrating. “I think everybody needs to have control over their art. That’s the problem when art and commerce start to mix. If you don’t spell things out pretty clearly, you can quickly lose control.”

Over the years, James has counted on the support of family, friends and fans, but he’s still a work in progress. “I may be confident musically, but I’m definitely not confident in other areas, that’s for sure.” Musically, he has the self-assurance to command thousands of people in a crowd at once and ignore the many opinions directed at his stage persona.

“Performing is such a weird thing. It’s almost like you have to put a different brain in your head, because it’s just so different than how I live in a day-to-day way. It’s a whole different world,” he says. “You have to be open to putting yourself out there, both in being criticized and being enjoyed.”

The moral of his story, according to James, is that “it doesn’t fucking matter.” He tells this to anyone who wants to make a record but is scared, or to bands 10 years in who are afraid to try something new. You’re always going to get the same response: Some will praise you, others will damn you.

“It’s kind of freeing, in a way. It’s like this great equalizer.”

And even when you know it’s completely out of your control, he says, “It all still fucks with you.”

“I try to not read press, but people email me shit. It still hurts when people say it sucks, and it fucks with your ego when people say it’s great. But you hear so much of both, you have to just be happy with what you’re doing. That’s where I find solace — at the end of the day, I’m in love with what I’m doing, and I’m having a really great time doing it.”

Photo by Frankie Steele

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c. 2013 LEO Weekly

Palace brothers

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Futuristic hip-hop arrives from Seattle

Ishmael Butler is soft-spoken and friendly in conversation, but the music he’s making now might keep you up at night.

When the first Shabazz Palaces EP was self-released in 2009, there was little information available about the group, yet word spread quickly in their native Seattle that their minimal, paranoid and futuristic-sounding hip-hop was something special. At first, interviews were declined, and Butler, performing as Palaceer Lazaro, disguised himself during concerts with scarves and sunglasses.

“Early on, it wasn’t about mystery, necessarily, although I do like that,” Butler says. “I like mystery in music because … when you look back, a lot of people would associate Funkadelic with George Clinton. But you’re talking about groups that had 13, 14 cats in there playing. There’s music, and nobody really knows these guys.”

Butler had a past he was trying to keep separate from his current project. It’s a rich past he’s proud of, as a member of the groundbreaking and Grammy-winning trio Digable Planets, but he’d been around long enough to see how eager some people were to focus on surfaces, rather than the music. And having this new music heard on its own merits was important to him.

“It started to be, like, where people started to talk more about the back story, the anecdotes, the personalities of artists more than their music,” he says. “I understood that as a selling point, but I didn’t like it that much for myself.

“It’s not really true, these attaching personalities to these artifices, so my thing was (to) separate from the Digable thing and to concentrate on the music while I just make the music and put it out as-is. Wherever the music goes, it takes the people, rather than people taking the music someplace.”

Shabazz Palaces, whose core members are Butler and percussionist Tendai Maraire, signed with the powerful and locally based label Sub Pop, which released their first full-length, Black Up, in 2011 to ecstatic reviews. Butler says it’s been a healthy relationship between two partners who have both seen the best and worst of the music game and have come out wiser for it. Both sides listen to the other’s ideas.

“They’re experts, and they’re purveyors of fine music for a long time,” he says, “so to not listen to them would make us stupid. So we didn’t do that … It’s good to be with people who love the music and understand business being a necessary part of expanding it.”

Shabazz Palaces found another supportive group in My Morning Jacket, who brought them on tour last summer. It was a success both musically and personally.

“Jim (James), I love this guy, he and the whole band,” Butler says. “Patrick (Hallahan), man, he’s a Steelers fan. I gotta give my guys a shout-out, can’t wait to see them.”

Their current tour finds them going on before another act signed to Sub Pop, the Portland-based atmospheric-rock duo The Helio Sequence, about whom Butler exclaims, “They’re the OGs, man.” He’s been a fan for several years, faithfully seeing every show he could. “So supporting them is somewhat of a dream come true, really, for me.”

For Shabazz Palaces’ performances, Butler says, “The live show is related to the album. The music is the place we take off from, but it goes down up into different realms.” He laughs in the middle of describing it as “a pretty energetic and spontaneous presentation of music.”

“It’s not like we just stand up there, rapping from our tracks and shit like that. Not that anything’s wrong with that, but it’s a little bit different. We appreciate performing, and you can tell.”

Butler’s hope is that people coming to the show — whether they’ve heard their music before or not — will listen and then decide if they like it based on nothing else. He’s been to the mountaintop and back down. Along the way, he’s seen that it’s only the music that matters. He’s fine with you knowing that he was on the classic “Rebirth of Slick (Cool Like Dat),” but that’s just not where he’s at today.

“I get why it happens,” he acknowledges, “but it’s just kind of lazy and a little bit monotonous for me. The people that I roll with, we like to keep it fresh.”

Shabazz Palaces with The Helio Sequence and Bus Hus
Tuesday, Jan. 29
Zanzabar
2100 S. Preston St.
zanzabarlouisville.ticketfly.com
$12; 9 p.m.

Photo by David Belisle & Leif Podhajsky

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

R ’n’ R ’n’ R

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Troubadour Justin Paul Lewis has been working hard for several years now, honing his craft one gig at a time. His latest performance will be at Uncle Slayton’s on Thursday.

For his newest collection, a four-song EP, Lewis teamed with Ben Sollee to take his ideas to a different level.

LEO: Who is Ben Sollee?

Justin Paul Lewis: The producer of my new album Rinse, Repeat, Rewind, a cello-playing madman, a father, and a very dear friend.

LEO: You began working on this EP in 2011. What took so long?

JL: Day-to-day life really got in the way of getting these songs out sooner. Ben and I were on the road together for a bit, then Ben was out solo, then the home and family called for me to take care of some things. So we took our time. We recorded bits and pieces of each song from then until now, letting them bake for a while. Each time we would go back, we would realize that our ears had matured to each song, and new ideas would just plow into them. I really made a lot of strides as a performer during that time, too. I often think back about what the record would sound like if we recorded it today.

LEO: How would you guess your 2013 will look one year from today?

JL: At this point, there are handfuls of possibilities. There is no doubt 2013 is going to be a busy one. I have had a lot of great “music folks” reach out about the song “Salt” and the new record — it’s been very encouraging to keep trucking on and keep writing. I will definitely be doing some touring and some well-needed sitting. I think I may start a basketball league, too. Any takers?

LEO: Where is the hardest place to fall?

JL: The Back Door is more of a stumbling place, so I would say that damn skate park.

LEO: F/marry/kill: Dawne Gee, Lynn Winter, Kimmet Cantwell?

JL: I would invite them to Vietnam Kitchen to talk it over. Kimmet can sit next to me.

Photo by Mickie Winters.

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

album review: Kirk Kiefer

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Kirk Kiefer has played in a bunch of bands around Louisville, including the recently retired dust-kickers Yardsale, and the Health and Happiness Family Gospel Band, an all-star collective of old-timey lovers. Now he steps out with a solo statement more in debt to Big Star than the Stones. Aided by pros like Joan Shelley, Todd Hildreth and members of the 23 String Band, Kiefer sounds confident and happy romping through power-pop should-be-hits like “Calling Home” and “Like a Black Hole” like the Cheap Trick ’70s are only starting to bleed into the college rock ’80s, twang lessened somewhat. Horns perk up here and there, adding a New Orleansian flavor to selections like “Lust From Afar,” whose subject material might indicate that it is truly for contemporary adults — a world away from today’s Top 40, sadly.

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

Mountain Heart is not a bluegrass band

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“This past year was inarguably our most successful, as a band, and that’s a great thing to say when you’ve had success like we’ve had through the years,” says Mountain Heart fiddler Jim Van Cleve. “But this past year, we’ve reached … I couldn’t even wager a guess. I’m gonna say probably hundreds of thousands of new people.”

Van Cleve co-founded Mountain Heart in 1998 with banjoist Barry Abernathy, mandolinist Adam Steffey, and vocalist Steve Gulley. Five others came and went through 2006. Then Gulley departed, beginning a new chapter in Mountain Heart’s career.

“We decided to rock the boat pretty substantially and we changed lead singers, which can be a giant leap of faith,” Van Cleve says. “We knew it was one we were ready for. We felt real confident in the move. It was the right time.”

What Mountain Heart’s core members wanted was more ambitious than what Gulley wanted. It wasn’t personal, Van Cleve asserts. “Out of absolutely no disrespect to anybody who’s been here, we made that move, and that was the biggest change that we’ve made.”

Gulley’s successor, Josh Shilling, stood out for all the ways he wasn’t like many bluegrass singers. His ability to sing in rock, blues and country styles matched up with Mountain Heart’s new vision. Additionally, he brought skills on guitar and numerous keyboards.

“We knew we had material and musical ideas that we wanted to push the envelope with. We’d become known already, but we’d hit a glass ceiling and become stale,” Van Cleve reflects. “We jumped off of that cliff and (it) turned out it wasn’t actually a cliff — it was a green pasture.”

Van Cleve is no purist and is almost as familiar with marketing concepts as he is with his fiddle. “We knew we had a certain product we wanted to be able to put on stage — that product would be exciting, and it would be fresh and young, and not a bluegrass band.”

Though he proudly declares they can still go there, “where our roots are planted,” the band didn’t want to be “put up in that little cubbyhole and locked away forever. The greater good would never hear any of the musical ideas we were getting into. So we set out to try to shake things up pretty good. And I think we’ve succeeded pretty effectively,” he laughs.

In the past year, the band appeared on an episode of PBS’ new music showcase “Bluegrass Underground,” filmed in Tennessee’s Cumberland Caverns. Van Cleve calls it “the new ‘Austin City Limits,’” though it’s too soon to tell about that. After the show, Van Cleve says, their website, Facebook profile, sales, bookings — “everything just went to a whole new level. It wasn’t necessarily overnight, but we’ve seen a decided upswing in everything.”

They signed with New Frontier Touring, the booking agency that also represents the Avett Brothers, shortly after the episode aired. “So we’re more well-aligned with, say, Avett Brothers/Mumford & Sons now then anything else we’d ever been easily categorized in.”

The best thing about Mountain Heart, says Van Cleve, is their collective musicianship. He left college to play with Doyle Lawson and has since accompanied Carrie Underwood, Sara Evans and many more, and won a Grammy for his 2007 solo album.

Each new band-hire was “handpicked, so they were calculated moves. Each one of those moves has really brought our show performance to a whole new, more dynamic and entertaining level. This band is top-notch session players. Each one of these guys, on their own, has been sought after to play on all kind of stuff … we’ve (now) got Aaron Ramsey (mandolin, guitar and dobro), who literally can play any kind of instrument as well as anybody in the band, just about (laughs), except for fiddle, actually, so my job’s secure! Then we’ve got a 19-year-old guitar player (Seth Taylor) who is just a freak of nature (laughs).

“Seth joined us a year ago, and he’s been able to see the world; 19 years old, he’d never been on a plane … now he’s a seasoned vet.”

You should come on out, he urges. “The spontaneity of our show, it is a free-for-all; we have no clue who’s gonna play what next sometimes, and we love that.”

Mountain Heart
Friday, Jan. 18
IU Southeast (Ogle Center)
4201 Grant Line Road, New Albany
ius.edu/oglecenter
$26.50; 7:30 p.m.

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

Fun times for Father John Misty

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Josh Tillman had a creative breakthrough in 2011. After years of releasing critically acclaimed, low-selling solo albums, he joined a band called Fleet Foxes as they quickly rose from Seattle buzz to international popularity. But it was just a job, and, approaching 30, Tillman knew he had more to give.

Depressed but more financially fit, Tillman quit the band and moved to Los Angeles, where he tried to write a novel. Surrounded by the carefree 21st century hippie musicians of Laurel Canyon, Tillman changed musical directions, letting the sun shine in and dropping his (musical) pants.

Reborn as the character Father John Misty, Tillman’s new band is free to try on 1970s styles from Randy Newman-esque pop to Gram Parsons-y outlaw country with a modern attitude, equally inspired by today’s L.A. comedy scene (“Parks and Recreation”’s Aubrey Plaza stars in the band’s first video, for the song “Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings”).

So, it must feel weird to jump from obscurity to the drum seat to the center of attention, right?

“I hate to say it, but it really didn’t take much adjustment whatsoever,” Tillman laughs. “I’m a nightmare behind the microphone.”

He says he never saw the “artistic merit” behind the showmanship usually unveiled by those on the big stage, but he’s now old enough to be himself and not worry as much about potentially looking foolish.

Now 31, Tillman says, “I think, like any person in their early 20s, I very much wanted to be taken seriously … The J. Tillman (solo) albums, I stand by them. (But) at this stage in the game, I have to distance myself from them for my own creative purposes. I had to, like, prepare the sacrificial lamb for the slaughter and drink its blood,” he laughs, “in order to move on.”

Citing the search for truth and honesty as his mission, Tillman allows, “Your definition of that changes over time.”

His earlier work isn’t too dissimilar from Father John Misty’s album Fear Fun, which was released by Sub Pop last May, but there’s a lightness and a joy now that he had previously tried to suppress. He knew he had that in him all along, but just like Dorothy in “The Wizard of Oz,” he had to take the long journey to find where it was.

“I had a moment of illumination when I realized, ‘This shit is so hard because you refuse to use the skills that you have.’”

Tillman says he knows he’s not the first, that some people learn that they’ve been too close to their own personalities and taking themselves for granted for years, only discovering later what was always staring back at them. The insight was, for him, simple but life-changing: “The melancholy and introspection is still there, but what I was leaving out was my ability to laugh.”

He doesn’t stop before the punchline anymore. It’s earned him a new group of fans. “Comedians really respond to this music in a way that makes me proud,” he notes. Backstage after a recent performance on “Conan,” fellow guest Sarah Silverman recognized Tillman’s girlfriend from one of the band’s videos.

A similar thread Tillman sees is that comedians have to go a long way with their craft to be taken seriously, like he has. He calls his current approach to songwriting akin to a magic trick, infusing serious songs with enough humor to make it go down easier. “It’s funny in some respects, but it’s got some dignity.”

He agrees that such an approach is not trendy now, and probably never has been, but people always like it when they hear it. “I think a lot of music at this point is just made under the premise of, ‘Just don’t fuck up!’ (My music) is like navigating a landmine of potential uncool choices.”

When he first arrived in L.A., he went to some comedy open-mics “as a voyeur” but quickly learned he was not built to be a traditional stand-up. He likes his humor best “when it’s totally inappropriate. In that respect, I’m really in the perfect position.”

“In some ways, I fit the bill for ‘white, male, acoustic guitar-playing singer-songwriter’ archetype. A lot of the shit I say on stage is wildly inappropriate, given that archetype. In that way, it’s more enjoyable for me.”

Father John Misty with Magic Trick
Wednesday, Jan. 9
Headliners Music Hall
1386 Lexington Road
headlinersmusichall.com
$12; 9 p.m.

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

Going backstage with ‘Yo Gabba Gabba!’

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The latest tour starring characters from the popular Nick Jr. TV program “Yo Gabba Gabba!” is called “Get the Sillies Out.” It’s their third tour, and if you’ve seen either of the first two tours, this one promises to bring the most popular elements of both together in addition to some new material.

The first threw everything together, maybe a little too much for young audiences. The second was more storytelling-based. Along the way, the producers learned the kids really wanted to hear their favorite songs. Cannons and bubbles remain, but the kids have had their say.

The 80-minute show has an intermission built in to ensure that the shorter half of the audience won’t grow restless or wear themselves out from smiling and dancing. Show creators Christian Jacobs and Scott Schultz both came from rock band backgrounds and are happily mindful that, for many present, it will be their first concert experience.

DJ Lance Rock (played by musician Lance Robertson) hosts the program, joined by cast members Muno, Foofa, Brobee, Toodee, Plex, and two other humans — gem sweater-wearing online celebrity Leslie Hall (also known for her novelty hit record "Gold Pants") and old-school hip-hop icon Biz Markie.

The TV show, now in its fourth season, has earned many adult fans, from parents relieved to have a kids’ show that doesn’t insult anyone’s intelligence to music fans who delight in seeing acts like Biz and co-star Mark Mothersbaugh of Devo, and guests ranging from the Shins to the Roots (and comedy fans who appreciate the Pee Wee-level of silliness, with appearances by comic actors like Amy Sedaris, Jack McBrayer and more).

Still, some adults are surprised to learn about such a hip level of love for this show aimed at preschoolers. Schultz says both Lance and Biz were perfect fits for the show, even before it became a reality, because both have kept in touch with their child within and delight in having fun with the little ones. Biz, Schultz notes, did earn his rep back in the day with songs like “Pickin’ Boogers,” so it shouldn’t seem like such a stretch. “He’s great, we’re just excited to have him.”

In addition to showcasing beloved songs like “Party in My Tummy,” another special aspect of the live show is the post-show meet-and-greet backstage, where delighted (though sometimes confused or scared) children can meet the characters, which appear much bigger in person than many children expect. Schultz says that lines often form for each character, revealing who is more popular. “I thought Tootie would be the one who’s the least popular, but she has a lot of fans … Obviously, Brobee and Foofa — Foofa’s probably the most popular.”

Some parents try to get closer — too close — to the charming DJ Lance, which explains why he has a bodyguard nearby for these events. Like many things about “Yo Gabba Gabba!,” this show has plenty for adults to look at, too.

For those wanting more “Yo,” Schultz says a movie is planned, as well as specials in 2013 — one of which will visit, for the first time, Lance’s room. (But not in that way.)

‘Yo Gabba Gabba! Live’
Sunday, Jan. 13
Palace Theater
625 S. Fourth St.
louisvillepalace.com
$25-$45; 2 & 5 p.m.

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

Hello, LEOs! Ronald Jenkees returns

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South End resident captivates YouTube audiences with trance-inducing jams

South End resident Ronald Jenkees has been making instrumental music with keyboards and computer programs — “massively popular trance-inducing jams,” says Gawker — for almost a decade now. While his name may not be familiar, his homemade videos, which begin with his trademark “Hello, Youtubes!” greeting, have been on seen on YouTube many millions of times.

Early fans included Katy Perry and ESPN’s Bill Simmons, who has used a Jenkees piece for his podcast’s theme music. Jenkees’ third album, Days Away, was released last month, and LEO caught up with the human meme to learn more.

LEO: It’s been a few long years since your last album. What have you been up to?

Ronald Jenkees: I took some time to just write new stuff and let that be my focus. On this new album, I really branched out on what sounds I was using. I tried to be more patient with the tracks and let them evolve over the course of weeks, months … I also tried to cram more good stuff on the CD — 15 tracks this time!

LEO: This record reminds me of a lot of great ’80s soundtrack music, from John Carpenter films to Jan Hammer’s “Miami Vice” score. Is that influence in your mind?

RJ: “Speaker 1, Speaker 1” was definitely influenced by that time period. I was worried at first that it would be compared to the “Knight Rider” theme, with that driving arpeggio synth throughout.

LEO: What sort of programs and equipment do you make everything on? Do you do all the mixing and mastering as well?

RJ: I use FL Studio for just about everything. I have an old Korg Triton LE and a Yamaha Motif XS8 that I use for some “live” playing on the tracks, and a USB midi keyboard to control FL Studio. I’m starting to use VSTs a lot more often these days, so the USB keyboard is getting more and more use.

LEO: How has your relationship with YouTube changed, if at all, through the years?

RJ: There’s a bit more pressure to release the “in-your-face” stuff. Each new video generates a lot of work for me in emails and random inquiries. I guess that’s why I took some time away from it, to focus on making music without that pressure and workload, but I’m working my way back into it. It’s always a rush to upload something you know thousands or millions of people might see — 99 percent of people are nice and appreciate new and original stuff. I’m still super thankful for that, it’s amazing.

LEO: Who are some current artists you’d like to produce for?

RJ: I think anyone would love to produce for Jay-Z. He’s just a beast. I think Kid Cudi would be interesting to work with also. His music isn’t very typical.

LEO: Have you done any rapping lately, publicly or otherwise?

RJ: Ha! I haven’t. I did it in the past just to be humorous, and I think it was judged as if I was really trying. I guess that makes it all the more funny.

LEO: Do you wear a hat in the shower or to bed?

RJ: No, but I do plan on getting a speaker put in my shower soon so I can listen to NPR or bluegrass on Pandora. That might be TMI, though.

LEO: What are some other ways you enjoy being goofy or funny?

RJ: I stole this from a friend, but sometimes when I’m at the cash register at the grocery store, I tell them I may or may not be able to pay for all this stuff. It works every time.

LEO: Is the live RJ experience coming anytime soon?

RJ: That’s not in the immediate plans, but I’m not ruling it out for way down the road. I understand there is fun to be had there and probably way more money to be made, but I’m afraid it would get addicting and I’d end up spending too much time on the road and away from family. Not to mention, I don’t see how it wouldn’t affect you creating new stuff. I always want new stuff to be on my front burners. It’s more fun for me to create new than it is to play old stuff.

Find Ronald Jenkees online at youtube.com/ronaldjenkees.

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

The music year in review

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This was an exceptional year in many ways for the ever-thriving Louisville music scene. LEO received almost a hundred records from our neighbors alone, a healthy sign of a fertile bed.

Americana quartet Houndmouth came from out of seemingly nowhere (well, OK, New Albany) and went from playing to dozens to selling out Headliners Music Hall, releasing their first EP through London’s Rough Trade Records, recording their first full-length, and touring around the country.

The Forecastle Festival celebrated its 10th anniversary with the biggest and best fest yet, co-curated by My Morning Jacket, who enjoyed another year of touring, seeing a million faces, and rocking them all.

Wax Fang returned, though without drummer Kevin Ratterman, who finally moved his recording studio out of his family’s funeral home, making it slightly less weird but much more functional.

In the wake of ear X-tacy’s demise, several smaller, more niche-oriented stores popped up (often inside other stores) and kept buyers supplied with everything from vintage vinyl to new underground cassettes.

The most important news this year was also the worst, as musician, artist and writer Jason Noble passed across the eighth dimension, after a three-year fight for his life. The legacy he left was far greater than his circumstances, and he will live on forever in the hearts of everyone he impacted.

On a happier note, here’s a look back at some of the music LEO critics enjoyed listening to, discussing and writing about this year:

The Filthy Fifteen
Filthy Rich
Producer, bassist and beatmaker Richard Herrell worked his contacts list to put together his first “producer album” with some of the city’s nastiest emcees. Rich’s production is dark, brooding — think Dre’s minor key melancholia with a boom-bap bend. — Damien McPherson

Grand National Dreams
Jalin Roze
Grand National Dreams is, simply, great. The title is a double entendre, a paean to the 1980s car, but more fittingly, a horizon-deep look at the future — a glimpse to Jalin’s expanse beyond our borders and to his grand national reality. — DM

Half Asleep Upon Echo Falls
Whistle Peak
Highly recommended for lovers of sounds both familiar and surprising, this makes quiet sound confident and vibrant while retaining bouncy hooks and harmonies. — PB

Little Heater
Catherine Irwin
Catherine Irwin is nothing if not patient. Her songs are leisurely and deliberate, seductive in their Southern Gothic charms for those who let them take over. Irwin’s songs are beautiful but dark, tinged with a pinch of humor and a pound of lonesome, and her country has more in common with Hank Sr. or Hazel Dickens than modern pop stars like Blake Shelton. — PB

Look Harder
Actual People
CJ Prof is one of the most aggressive yet nimble emcees you’ll ever hear. The passion, anger and humor he displays throughout the disc will carry the group as far as they’re willing to travel. The production is a dense, at times murky gumbo of rock guitar, breakbeats and live deejaying. — DM

Melt
The Pass
Melt stands out in contrast against a wash of hybrid indie-disco-punk-dance bands with accomplished songwriting and remarkably pristine production. — Jon Paul Hill

On a Passing Cloud
Murals
Murals have been subtly honing their craft for a while now, concocting an indie-psych buzz sound from an earlier era, or at least a different time zone. — PB

Our Home Is a Deathbed
Xerxes
With a multidimensional approach to hardcore — from thrashing caustic punk to more emotional, swelling melodic moments — Xerxes craft a focused vision that gives Home a dense and unique vibe. — Austin Weber

Red Parole
Seluah
Seluah’s long-gestating first full-length album is nothing short of a masterpiece. A hypothetical soundtrack for a chilling, sexed-up Nicholas Ray film noir filled with double-crossings, misbegotten sex and stolen money, Red Parole is a precise, sensual overload of cutting riffs, floating rhythms and haunting vocals. — PB

Sandpaper Dolls
Sandpaper Dolls
Each song, although a cappella, has percussive elements, a bassline and a melody. That percussion is reflected in various shapes and forms on their self-titled studio album. The occasional echo gives the three-part harmonies an otherworldly, timeless quality. — Danielle Sills

We’re looking forward to a lot next year, including new music from Wax Fang, Liberation Prophecy, Cheyenne Mize, Johnny Berry & the Outliers, Appalatin, Justin Paul Lewis, the aforementioned Houndmouth, plus Jim James’ long-awaited first solo album. We’re excited to get our world rocked by the next left-field surprise, and thankful for another year of sharing the adventure with you.

Photo by Ron Jasin.

c. 2012 LEO Weekly

People Issue - The Healer: Kim Carpenter

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When you go to see Dr. Kim Carpenter, she does not play around.

“Our approach to health is looking at you as a whole person, and then we address the way you eat, the way you move, the way you think, and the way that you live your life through your nervous system, to see what you would need to do to be healthier over the next five years.”

Dr. Carpenter is an athletic mother of two young kids, a chiropractor and the owner of Awaken to Wellness in St. Matthews. She agrees with my attempt to summarize it as a one-stop shop combining trips to the doctor, the gym, yoga and other medical hot spots.

Her facility also includes massage and acupuncture treatments, and they work with people’s eating issues, customizing meal plans. These plans help weight loss as well as balancing blood sugar and helping to wean people off processed foods, what she calls “getting you to eat real, live food.”

Some people come because they’re in physical pain. Some “know that, with our current health care system, the average person is sicker in five years, not healthier, and they want to find out ways that they can stay well.” It takes a variety of approaches to work with a variety of problems, and they see patients from babies to the elderly.

If it sounds like an alternative approach to medicine, Carpenter doesn’t disagree. Do people ever tell her what she does sounds weird? “Oh, yeah!” she laughs. “Unfortunately, in our culture, what I do is alternative medicine, or alternative health, and I think until our country decides that being pro-active would be the norm, then we will continue to be a sick culture … When mainstream health care is about lifestyle, that’s when we’ll see a shift in the way people live.”

Carpenter played volleyball in high school and college, and doctor visits for back pain led her to change her diet, improving her health and reducing those Ohio Valley allergies. By high school, her life’s work was laid out for her. Today she also continues to work with athletes in high schools, at the University of Louisville, and at the pro level.

But Carpenter isn’t the only successful professional in her family. Her sister Jennifer, who knew what she wanted to do while still in grade school, has carved out a career playing some of the unhealthiest Americans in fictional entertainment, as the title character in the movie “The Exorcism of Emily Rose” and as the foul-mouthed, brother-loving Debra Morgan on Showtime’s “Dexter.”

“Both my parents are very driven individuals in their own way,” Carpenter says. “They both gave us freedom, taught us the value of things, and the quality of not only material things but of people. They both just let us be who we were … We had no idea that certain things, to some people, wouldn’t seem possible. Anything we wanted to achieve was possible with hard work, determination and confidence.”

Family is central to Carpenter in every way; she says that families do even better with her program than individuals because they’re accountable to each other, not just to the doctor. Not everyone is ready for her approach, but she’ll be there when they are.

“The challenges in life are the exact same reasons why I’m happier and healthier down the road,” she says. “They teach you the most.”

Photo by Frankie Steele.

c. 2012 LEO Weekly