Dr. Feelgood

It would be incorrect, and unfair, to say that Alex Wright leads a charmed life. But he’s had some good breaks, and made some good choices, and in some ways, could be called one of the lucky ones.

First, there’s the choice. Wright grew up poor in eastern Kentucky; he knew that, as an adult, he didn’t want to continue that struggle, so he became a doctor. He had also loved playing music, but knew his long-term odds were better in the healing arts.

“Art doesn’t always pay the bills,” he says, “so I went in a different direction.” But he never felt whole being a doctor without also playing music.

Then, there’s the luck. Jim White’s hardly a superstar, except to small pockets of music nerds, but the man has had a solid career making records, touring the world and collaborating with artists from Bill Frisell to Barenaked Ladies. White heard Wright when the latter opened for him at Uncle Slayton’s, and the established act fell hard for Wright’s songs. Now, White has produced Wright’s second album, Starlight Navigator.

Wright credits White with pushing him to keep trying harder, resulting in a richer album than his first. With resources at hand, Wright assembled a large band of Louisville sidemen to assist with the album’s creation. For the release show, Friday at the New Vintage, Wright’s band will be eight-strong — large if it were a touring band, but appropriately special for one day only (the band also plays WFPK at noon).

Wright says he has heard the comparisons to Lyle Lovett, and he’s aware that Lovett also employs a “large band” at times. But “I never would’ve thought, in a million years,” that people would hear him that way. Could he have had — might he still have — a career like Lovett’s?

“I’m a tenacious person, by nature … Some days I wonder, if I had put 100 percent into it, what would have happened,” Wright says. “But I’m also aware that there are incredibly talented people I see every day who haven’t been able to break through.”

Here
c. 2014 LEO Weekly

Kiran Ahluwalia’s world of music

Jet-setting from India to Toronto to New York to the Sahara



Kiran Ahluwalia’s life probably could not have played out this way if she had lived in an earlier generation. Born in India, raised in Toronto and now residing in New York City, she has spent much of the past decade adding her passion for West African music to her border-crossing sounds.

Her husband and musical director, guitarist Rez Abbasi, was born in Pakistan and raised in California — but when his family first landed in the U.S., it was Louisville that welcomed them. “He’s a pure American,” says the Canadian, “a totally California surfin’ dude,” but he spent his pre-kindergarten year here.

Ahluwalia has not been here before. “I was surprised by the invitation” to play at the Clifton Center, she says. “‘They’re interested in hearing my music?’ That was very interesting … I thought, ‘How are people going to view me?’ I’m Indian, definitely, but I’m also North American. ‘Are they going to view me as an immigrant?’”

She was unsure, but thanks to Facebook, she heard from a fan asking if she would ever come to Louisville, and then more joined in, proving her music could find an audience even in places off her radar. “None of these people are South Asians,” she adds.

Finding common ground is what she does best. In fact, Ahluwalia and band’s latest album, Aam Zameen: Common Ground, released in 2011, broke new ground, heading away from traditional ghazals and adding her recent influences. The opening song, “Mustt Mustt,” finds the Malian band Tinariwen collaborating with her musicians.

On tour now, her band is playing some songs from that record, and she says they will also play some of her newest compositions, which are still inspired by music from Sahara Desert countries like Mali and Morocco. Those are places she has traveled as well as sources of music she has studied “with quite a passion.”

“I usually call myself ‘Indo-Canadian,’ but I’m adding ‘Indo-Saharan,’” she laughs. Her next album is due in the fall of 2014.

Ahluwalia’s visit to Louisville also includes a stop at Field Elementary, where she is scheduled to perform and chat with students. It’s something she does on a regular basis, speaking with everyone from little ones to college ethnomusicology majors. But “kindergartners ask the most interesting questions,” she notes. “They talk like adults!” Once, a child who “seemed like a 1-foot-tall person” asked her over-6-foot tall husband, “‘Hey, Rez, do you have any CDs out?’ It was so adorable.”

Ahluwalia remembers similar visitors when she was a schoolgirl. “You don’t really know what you’re getting, as a child. You don’t understand what knowledge, what interpretation of the world you’re receiving, when they take you out of class and put you in an assembly, and someone else, apart from your teacher, comes to talk to you about something. But we remember those things, right? You remember everyone who came and talked to you.”

She got her first education in the music of the Sahara 10 years ago in Toronto. She returned home from a tour and soon headed out for a concert, only to be bored by the band playing. Having friends all over town, she decided to sneak in and check out the African tuareg band she had heard something about, who were playing across town. It was Tinariwen.

“It started as a deep love right from the get-go,” says Ahluwalia. As she began work on her fourth album, Wanderlust, she started fusing their influence into her own compositions, “but of course I didn’t think I could work with them. I didn’t even try. Like, ‘don’t dream that high.’”

She was happy with what her own band did with the material, and soon she met Tinariwen’s producer, Justin Adams, while working in Copenhagen. He asked to hear her record, and she sent it with a note, saying she had expanded her knowledge and was consuming other tuareg bands’ sounds, as well. He said, “Well, why don’t you do something with that?”

The night she first saw Tinariwen, in 2004, she knew she would get there with only enough time left to catch a couple of songs. “And that’s exactly what I heard, only a couple of songs. But, by God, they changed my life — those couple of songs, that 10 minutes.”

Kiran Ahluwalia
Friday, Jan. 24
Clifton Center
2117 Payne St.
cliftoncenter.org
$6-$12; 8 p.m.

Here
c. 2014 LEO Weekly

Mike Birbiglia — Closing in for the kill

Comedian and storyteller Mike Birbiglia has mastered a fusion of the two forms, turning jokes into stories that become radio, one-man theater, books and movies. His newest stage show finds him going back to his first love, jokes, while still uniting them in a larger story. LEO caught up with him by phone last week.

LEO: You worked over and over to hone (your last show) “My Girlfriend’s Boyfriend.” How have you learned to finesse your show while you’re on stage?
Mike Birbiglia: I edit a lot of stuff based on audience response. That helps. There’s a bar near where I live in Brooklyn, called Union Hall, which is actually where I shot a lot of (the movie) “Sleepwalk With Me.” I do this show called “Working It Out” there every Monday night, and I go and put a ton of writing on stage. Lots of times, I’ll bring notes up with me, and I’ll see what sticks, what does well with the audience. I’ll put them up the next night, cut the things that didn’t work and add new stuff.

I used to work a lot more joke to joke, when I was starting out. When I wrote my (2006) album, Two Drink Mike, it was very much, “Here’s my 50 jokes.” Now it’s, “Here’s my 10 stories.” I’m just trying to figure out how to squeeze the most jokes into those 10 stories. I’ll go on stage and I’ll know what the beginnings and the ends of a story are, but I’ll improvise the middle until I find what’s the best middle of the story.

LEO: So you’re not a comic who keeps trying to make his favorite joke work even when it’s not?
MB: Not really. I do my shows now all over the world — I did the last one in London, Australia, Canada and 70 cities in America — and I really want everything to work everywhere. I want to find the most human version of the joke that I’m writing. And I actually find traveling to be the best thing for that. It’s good to do shows in the South, in the Northeast, in the Pacific Northwest — it helps you understand what’s human about what you’re writing.

LEO: You have a love for the films of Woody Allen and James L. Brooks —
MB: Sure!

LEO: They are more interested in exploring emotions, even if it means losing a joke here and there. Since you’re starting out from that place, and it took Woody a while to get to, how do you think you can continue to grow when you’ve already got the right idea?
MB: Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re saying, yeah. I think the key is to continue to go places that are uncomfortable for you. Like, in my new show, I really try to dive into “Why are jokes uncomfortable?” Why can’t you tell jokes at work? Why can you only tell jokes with your close friends? Which are the types of jokes that are taboo, and why? That’s what’s exciting about the show for me right now.

LEO: And you’re still doing stories?
MB: Yeah, 10 stories, exactly, at this point. But it’s a little less single-narrative than “Girlfriend’s Boyfriend” and “Sleepwalk With Me” were; I wanted to get back to a show that … I was itching to do something that was the funniest bunch of bits I can possibly think of. And what I found while I was creating that, over the last couple of years, was the through line of that had to do with jokes; jokes themselves and mistakes that have to do with jokes. That’s why I called it “Thank God for Jokes.”

LEO: But people shouldn’t assume it’s about religion, correct?
MB: No — at one point I was going to call it “Religion, Sex and Politics,” because those are the three topics you’re not allowed to talk about at parties. And those happened to be the three topics I wanted — all I wanted to talk about at parties (laughs). I dip my toe in religion, I dip my toe in sex and politics, but more than anything, I try to dig into “What is it about humor that alienates us from people?” But then, ultimately, for me, it makes me feel closer to people.

Mike Birbiglia’s ‘Thank God for Jokes’
Saturday, Jan. 18
Brown Theatre
315 W. Broadway
kentuckycenter.org
$25; 7:30 p.m.

Here
c. 2014 LEO Weekly

Man Man’s business plan

The deconstructionist band has been popping up in unexpected places



Man Man ended 2013 with CNN’s Anderson Cooper mangling their name. It was the perfect capper for a band that has spent a decade baffling both fans and critics, a band led by a man named Ryan Kattner, who also calls himself Honus Honus.

The CNN shout-out, following up on a story Cooper reported in September, was for the band’s song “End Boss,” which imagines Cooper’s colleague Wolf Blitzer as a “vodka-swilling baby eater.” “He’s very sweet — I love that man,” Kattner says about Cooper. “I’d love to meet him someday. And if he could grace me with a kiss, I’d be so happy … That whole experience was ridiculous. I don’t know, out of the millions of people watching, if that even registers as anything, but it’s still fucking amazing.”

The song is on Man Man’s most recent album, On Oni Pond, arguably their most accessible and mature album to date. But accessible is relative here; the band still sounds like a swirling circus, though their chaos has coalesced into something relatively easier to digest.

Kattner, now 35, calls diehard fans of their early material “those pony-tail guys clinging to me writing the kind of songs I wrote when I was 22.”

“I can’t keep writing the songs I wrote 10 years ago,” says the singer/keyboardist. “I’d rather swallow a bullet than do that.”

Kattner says he didn’t intend to write any songs for the pop charts this time, but recognizes that one song, “Head First (Hold On To Your Heart),” could be a hit, if presented more straightforwardly. The right woman, he says, could sing that song pretty well.

“That’s a song — I wish I could have written that 10 years ago. But I don’t think I could have done it sincerely … I just don’t think I had enough life experience to actually feel the feelings to write that kind of song.

“I’m proud of the song,” he adds. “I’m happy that it’s been able to have some legs. It’s pretty surreal for us that that song has been able to get on Modern (rock) radio. That’s as surreal as the CNN stuff, to have the song on rotation with Korn and stuff.”

He acknowledges that “we didn’t make things easy for ourselves” by naming the band Man Man, “or even, in the case of this single, by calling it ‘Head On’ instead of ‘Hold On To Your Heart’ — I don’t know what I was thinking.”

The band has flirted with mainstream success before, with their songs popping up in commercials and on TV shows, but find themselves now in a more difficult phase of their career — doing some of their best work, but no longer being the hot new thing. It’s a dilemma others have faced before, like the Flaming Lips in the mid-’90s, and Man Man’s most popular days may be coming soon. That is, if Kattner and drummer cohort Chris Powell (aka Pow Pow) can keep the band together.

Asked how many members have passed through Man Man, Kattner sighs and laughs simultaneously. “Eh, it doesn’t matter … All that matters is that Chris and I are sticking around.”

Kattner summarizes their plan as: “Hopefully, we can keep percolating up through the cracks of the mainstream.”

This time around, the band has, like a wolf, acquired some new, younger blood that has kept its leaders alert. “These are their after-school activities,” Kattner jokes. “It counts toward college credit.”

Kattner’s mostly joking advice to younger musicians who want to start a band? Maybe go to business school instead. “Don’t start a band ’cause you want to have a livelihood, ’cause there isn’t one. Maybe there is for, like, 1 percent of people that do it, but it’s no way to live,” he says.

But you’ve made it this far, I argue. “Have I?” he laughs. “I think (I have) just out of sheer determination and maniacal fortitude. It’s also borderline delusional. I think that’s why I’ve made it this far. If you’re willing to sacrifice relationships, creature comforts, stability, the prospect of ending up on the street someday — if these are all things that you can turn a blind eye to past your 20s, then you’re good to go. But, you know, do it while you’re young.”

Man Man with Xenia Rubinos
Friday, Jan. 17
Zanzabar
2100 S. Preston St.
zanzabarlouisville.ticketfly.com
$16-$18; 9 p.m.

Here
c. 2014 LEO Weekly

No strings attached

“I’ve been traveling (to Santa Fe, N.M.) because my girlfriend is going to grad school,” Evan Patterson says. “She had this old parlor guitar that didn’t have any strings on it. You really couldn’t play past the fifth fret and make anything that was in tune. So I worked with what I had and starting writing songs.”

Jaye Jayle wasn’t planned. Patterson already had two bands, Young Widows and Old Baby. Young Widows is the oldest, and heaviest, of his bands. Old Baby takes more of a classic rock/psych approach, driven by Patterson and co-leader Jonathan Wood. Jaye Jayle is Patterson with a rotating group of players jumping in as needed. While all three sound distinct from each other, Patterson’s intense approach to his instrument unites them with the lonesome, brutal cries he coaxes.

He wrote five Jaye Jayle songs on his first visit to Santa Fe, then three or four more the next time, and then a couple more. He sent them to friends and realized, “Oh shit, I’ve got a record here!”

Even the recording circumstances were different for him this time. The album, ... It's Jayle Time, was put together over two weekends by sound recordist Warren Christopher Gray in his home. Friends were invited to show up and improvise parts to add.

Patterson says recording in a welcoming family setting was “a really positive experience.” The setting made him feel safer to try new approaches than he would in a conventional studio, and the minimalist songs, too, left extra room for experimenting.

He’s also trying something different with the release of the songs. The whole piece can be purchased now on the site Bandcamp, and limited edition 7” singles will be released on vinyl each month, on different labels.

Having different outlets has made his original love, Young Widows, “easier” in some ways. They have recorded a new album, which Patterson says is “the heaviest thing I think I’ve done.”

“I really don’t know what I would do if I wasn’t being productive in music in some way.”

Here
Jaye Jayle plays Zanzabar on Wednesday, Jan. 22, at 9 p.m.

More of some of the best of 2013

Here



Last week, we looked back at some of the best music Louisville offered up in 2013 — a number that is now mere history, as otherwise meaningless as 2003 or 1973. Unless, of course, you’re talking about Bruce Springsteen, who will always be filled with meaning and never get a gray hair or die.

In the first part of our look back, we relayed responses to our survey of the year past, confirming local love for the Debauchees, Old Baby, Cheyenne Mize, White Reaper and Anwar Sadat. Missing out on the top five were some of our globally recognized talents — Jim James, who released his first solo album while also playing some dates with My Morning Jacket (including a tour with Bob Dylan); Houndmouth, who released their debut full-length album on London’s Rough Trade label and celebrated “Houndmouth Day” in Louisville with a show at Iroquois Amphitheater; and Bonnie “Prince” Billy, who continued to keep fans on their toes by making a new album in his house and then driving it around to local stores as his means of distribution, favoring neighbors and frustrating his thousands of additional worldwide fans.

Houndmouth did earn several mentions from their local scene mates, earning a solid sixth place. Next came heavier sounds from a pair of bands who earned the same number of mentions, but have only volume in common otherwise. Julie of the Wolves, an all-star quartet who have consistently rocked out in a variety of bands over the past 10-15 years and are now united in a catchy punk format, won acclaim with their album Create/Destroy (on Noise Pollution).

Black metal heroes Anagnorisis earned far-flung accolades for their self-released album Beyond All Light (the band plays the album live Thursday night at Haymarket Whiskey Bar); the Canadian magazine Exclaim! wrote, “… filled with thunderous drumming and pierced by moments of unexpected illumination, Anagnorisis have crafted a black metal album worthy of their name.”

Some other local acts praised by their peers included Tropical Trash, Nerves Junior, Wax Fang, Kaleidico, The Revenants, The Tunesmiths, Whistle Peak, Small Time Napoleon, Sapat, Ultra Pulverize, and the aforementioned Jim James and Bonnie “Prince” Billy.

Outside these bluegrass borders, LEO’s music writers also, somehow, found even more music to enjoy this year. Running away with the top honors in 2013 was one of the very first albums to be released, way back on Jan. 22: No Beginning No End (on Blue Note) was neither the first nor the last we’re hearing from hip-hop-inflected soul/jazz singer José James, but dang, it’s a great one.

In his LEO review, Damien McPherson wrote, “I’ll be damned if this isn’t in my top five 335 days from now. The jazzy singer from Minneapolis finally gets a proper U.S. introduction after two incredible records on DJ Gilles Peterson’s Brownswood label and a quiet-as-a-whisper standards album on Verve. Those in the know have wielded his songs as secret weapons for several years, but now is the time the rest of the world gets familiar.”

Also taking up space in our ears was the modern country of Kacey Musgraves, the Central American grooves of the Garifuna Collective, Gregory Porter’s theatrical jazz vocals, Laura Mvula’s British soul power, the retro Cumbia of Maguaré, the revived concept hip-hop of Deltron 3030, Setenta’s Latin soul, the haunting indie folk of Spirits of the Red City, the electro chills of Jon Hopkins, anthemic indie rock from Thao & the Get Down Stay Down, Bombino’s African guitar trance, and the pop/R&B of the Tennessee kid, Justin Timberlake. Oh, and we can’t forget Kanye (he won’t let us).

In a year that saw Brooklyn’s Red Baraat visit Louisville twice and release two new titles, some of us got deeper into the blending of brass bands with modern funk and hip-hop rhythms that continued everywhere from England to India to Wisconsin — plus, of course, New Orleans, where the Hot 8 Brass Band and Brass-a-Holics dropped solid collections, and Jim James produced a modern classic for the Preservation Hall Jazz Band.

None of us were sad when Mumford & Sons announced a lengthy hiatus.

We hope you had as much fun as we did in 2013, but we also hope for an even better 2014. (Fingers crossed for a Springsteen-led Forecastle Festival … hey, why not?) #possibilitycity

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

Working for the union

Here



Many people make music on the side, as a form of expression, never expecting to become part of the mainstream music industry. Many of those people work behind a desk or in front of customers. John Paul Wright is one of the very tiny handful of songwriters who’s working on the railroad.

Wright doesn’t just work for the company — he’s a timeless union man, an organizer and an agitator. He’s a locomotive engineer and a labor singer. Take a moment out of your day and imagine a contestant on “The Voice” singing a song like “War on the Workers,” or “Casey Jones the Union Scab,” and consider the hard lives many lead.

But also consider the joy Wright gets from singing his songs, paying tribute to his fellow travelers.

Wright’s latest album, Singing to the Choir, was released this fall. On Saturday, Wright and fellow local folkie John Gage play at the Rudyard Kipling with fiddler Kate MacLeod and singer/guitarist Duncan Phillips. The latter is the son of the late Utah Phillips, the iconic labor organizer, train-hopper and storytelling folk singer, and has carried on his father’s work.

Wright met Phillips last year at a hobo convention in northern California, learning that the son didn’t like his father’s music because it took him away from home. Wright’s job takes him to Nashville and back, but he spends as much time as he can with his son, Jonah, schooling him in many ways.

Jonah and wife Donna are Wright’s priorities, but nights like Saturday are special occasions to celebrate his world outside of their home. The family lives in a nice house in Middletown, but Wright has also known fellow workers who have been laid off, or even killed on the job. He sings their songs, and rails against a corporate culture that has taken over our nation, threatening democracy and poisoning children’s minds.

Wright knows he’s not alone in his fight, though. Like-minded members of his community will join together in song on Saturday, share stories and wish for a 2014 filled with solidarity and a more perfect union.

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

Soul junk

Here



Black Diamond Heavies drummer Van Campbell was at the Air Devils Inn, sitting with bassist/vocalist Eric Makowski, formerly of Austin’s garage rock/soul band the Bloody Tears. They had just met and began talking about starting a new band, “something just for fun,” Campbell says. “Soul music was a part of the conversation, because we thought it would be accessible from a playing standpoint,” the drummer adds. “There are plenty of bands out there that are doing this ‘soul revival’ kind of thing, which is great. I’m glad that, though that was our starting point, we have kind of turned into something that is unique.”

Their seven-piece band, Junk Yard Dogs, has since made a name for themselves through their potent live show over the past couple of years, and now have a record available. The band plays WFPK’s New Year’s Eve show at Headliners, though Campbell clarifies, “There will be guests joining us along the way, and we will be more of a house band than a featured act.”

As a warm-up, they will play on WFPK’s “Live Lunch” Friday at noon. “Normally when we play, it is at various dives around town that are dimly lit and where the patrons are impaired by alcohol. If you like your dirty soul music with a bit more clarity and a sandwich, then you should come on down to ‘Live Lunch,’” says Campbell.

Their record evolved from contemplating covers to writing originals, both together and in smaller groups. They rode up to Detroit to capture their sound with engineer Jim Diamond, who had previously worked with both Campbell and Makowski. “It took a lot of planning ahead to figure out how to make it all work with seven people and a very short window of time, which I was worried about because trying to plan any aspect of a recording session can be ambitious. It turned out to be an amazing experience.”

Asked to name some favorite local bands that don’t include Dogs members, Campbell replies, “It is hard to mention ones we don’t share members with!”

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

People Issue: Franey Miller - The Photographer

Here



“I’m not really average,” acknowledges Franey Miller, the 18-year-old photographer. “I’m always working — whether it be planning shoots, getting up at 5 a.m. to call magazines in London, or doing all the bookings for every single shoot I produce.”

The recent high-school grad began shooting “with a fashion eye” at 15. She describes her work as “feminine, whimsical and soft but powerful.” Miller began by taking pictures of female friends. As she developed her skills, she found girls easier to use as subjects. “With male models, there’s this constant ‘manly’ vibe going on,” she says. “I’m not opposed to shooting guys, but I just feel more comfortable around girls.”

Some of her female subjects are shown wearing only lingerie; what might seem sketchy coming from a male perspective feels more loving and respectable coming from a young woman. Miller denies having an overt agenda.

“I find it pretty,” she shrugs. “I’m not really trying to subvert anything or make a statement — I just really like the visual of cute undergarments.”

Miller is not in school now, using her time to work on her budding career. “It is a lot of work,” she says, adding that her roommate, boyfriend and supportive mother are all “constant inspiration,” though it is her cats, Prudence and Tupac, who especially “work hard to make models feel at home during hair and makeup when I’m shooting in Louisville.”

She has published photos everywhere from the local zine Tobacco to the highly coveted Vogue Italia. Miller primarily uses social media and phones to make connections, and has recently spent time in the big city. “I have a serious love/hate relationship with New York,” she says. “I love it when I’m not in it.”

Miller feels lonely there now — after traveling alone, she tries to occupy herself with shoots and meetings, but unless a friend is available, she eats, gets around and then goes to sleep alone. Skype calls can only do so much. The city adds its own inspiration and, as one of the fashion and media capitals, it can’t be ignored, but it’s either too busy or too quiet. It’s not home yet.

“The last time I was in New York, I had 16 shoots in 14 days. It’s a lot of hard work, but I know it’s going to be so worth it one day,” says Miller. “I plan to relocate to New York sometime soon. It’s where everything happens, and it’s naturally where I need to be.”

Photo by Serene Conaway

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

People Issue: Daniel Cole - The Promoter

It all started with a “Boogie Nights”-themed birthday party. Daniel Cole enjoyed a night out, and throwing a big party sounded like fun. But Cole quickly realized he was also filling a need in Louisville’s social scene.

“I think it’s fair to say it was fairly risqué for the Fourth Street Live crowd at the time,” says Cole. “Male go-go dancers and dance music DJs were not really commonplace in that circle, especially not in 2007.”

The party was a success, and Cole credits veteran promoter Joey Wagner, then marketing director for Lucky Strike and Felt, for encouraging him. It led Cole to the Fourth Street Live club Hotel, where he was hired as their marketing and events director. “It was a great deal of work, changing the perception of Louisville nightlife,” says Cole, “but that was a great vehicle to do so.” Working with attractions from DJ Steve Aoki to fashion labels to curiosities like Paris Hilton, it was on trend with the MySpace/celeb culture of the time and taught Cole many valuable lessons.

“Of course, not every weekend was a giant event,” he acknowledges. “Many times, it was $100 of decorations from Caulfield’s and a motivated staff who liked throwing a theme party.”

After an LGBT networking group hosted a party there, Cole saw a window to expand the club, and the city’s options. “Hard Candy” was born this way there. When Hotel closed, Cole went out on his own as a freelance promoter. “It was quite an adjustment,” he says, as every dollar spent on an event was now coming from his own bank account.

Wagner offered to re-launch “Hard Candy” at the club he now runs, Prime Lounge. It took time to rebuild, but Cole says 2013 was one of his best years. Today “Hard Candy” is again on trend, bringing in many stars of the groundbreaking “RuPaul’s Drag Race” reality series as headliners. The event also expanded to Cincinnati and Lexington this year, with more planned.

Cole will also produce his first large-scale Derby event soon, a dream come true for him. He plans a party catered toward an audience wanting something other than a Maxim/Playboy-esque event at Derbytime.

Meanwhile, he still works part-time in retail management. “One month could be terrific and the next could be underwhelming. You plan and promote as best as you possibly can, but there are always factors you can’t predict.

Photo by Marty Pearl

Here
c. 2013 LEO Weekly

Some of the best music of 2013 — Part 1

Here



LEO’s music department asked dozens involved in this city’s scene to share lists of their favorite local music of 2013. Our selection committee was, admittedly, intentionally random — but each is a trusted member of our community. We didn’t exactly stop people on the street (even though many of them are probably in bands, too) for their two cents.

As it shook out, we got many great responses back. Two things we had already suspected were confirmed beyond a reasonable doubt: Louisville loves music, and this year, everyone loved the Debauchees.

Among the people who contributed, almost half put the Debauchees and their debut album, Big Machines and Peculiar Beings (on sonaBLAST! Records), on their list. Whistle Peak singer Billy Petot said, “The Debauchees! Duh! These guys are so much fun. Usually young folks tend to exude a bit too much rage for me, but these young ’uns are just plain f-u-n.” WFPK disc jockey Marion Dries mentioned their song “I’ve Got Energy” as one of her favorite individual songs of this year, noting, “Love the primitive punk ethic in their work.” Bryce Gill, guitarist for the Tunesmiths, called them “great, young talent and sincerely sweet kids. They will make Louisville proud.”

While this might be a surprise to some in a year that also included new albums from Jim James, Bonnie “Prince” Billy and Houndmouth, it shows how our community continues to develop new talent and support it, never sitting still even though there’s a deep bench to rely on.

It’s not a popularity contest, in the literal sense. We here at LEO like to take each song, each record, each show as its own thing; all have unique strengths and weaknesses. We don’t believe there can be a “best” or “worst” when it comes to artistic expression. In this case, we’re just sharing some recommendations.

The name dropped second-most by a jury of their peers was Old Baby. After putting their first record together after only a few months of existence, the all-star rock quintet took longer to make their second album, Love Hangover (on Karate Body Records), achieving a leap up from an already stellar debut and clarifying that this band is for real, not a mere side project (members also play solo and in Young Widows, Jaye Jayle, Sapat and Second Story Man). In his review for LEO, Syd Bishop wrote, “Given Old Baby’s penchant for dark, Americana-tinged songwriting, this is a surprisingly spry album, maintaining an unexpected momentum (given both the subject matter and material) … this Hangover succeeds as a well-crafted testament to the skill of its constituency.”

Following closely behind was a pair of artists who take a different approach to pop and rock, though less differently than it might look on the surface. Cheyenne Mize’s second solo album, Among the Grey (on the North Carolina label Yep Roc) also saw her step up her game. In this week’s music section, WFPK and LEO’s Kyle Meredith shares his thoughts on her achievement.

The young garage-rockers White Reaper received as many mentions as Mize, with “Night Visions Radio” DJ Sam Sneed raving, “My favorite local release of the year is White Reaper’s Conspirator (a 7-inch on Earthbound Records). I am just stoked people in Louisville are making this kind of music!” McKinley Moore, guitarist for Natives, said, “I’m sure someone else has said it already, but White Reaper is awesome.”

Also beloved locally lately was Anwar Sadat. The young punk trio’s first full-length, Gold (on Sophomore Lounge), had singer/guitarist Mark Kramer of Tender Mercy saying about it, “Loud, abrasive and catchy. Who else can do this?” Zach Hart, from the blog We Listen For You, called it, “A thunderous record that doesn’t pocket creativity for the sake of being ‘just another loud band,’” and added, “It’s a perfect artistic document to get the listener ready for Anwar Sadat’s live show ... one of the best live bands going in town today.”

Join us again next week for more of the best of 2013, locally and internationally.

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

Over the Rhine and through the woods

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Based around the married couple of Karin Bergquist and Linford Detweiler, the folk-pop band Over the Rhine has been together long enough to build a fan base strong enough to support their own label, Great Speckled Dog, enabling them to survive and thrive outside of the system. While they have released two Christmas albums, the band’s current tour supports their new double album, Meet Me at the End of the World, which is their second album produced by Joe Henry (who recruited Bergquist to act with him in the Louisville-shot movie “Pleased to Meet Me”).

LEO: You’ve had 20 years of making songs together. How do you still have so many songs on one record?

Linford Detweiler: We both write. Karin likes to say it was easier just to put all the songs on the project, rather than arguing over whose got left off. Maybe there’s some truth to that. But actually, we knew we had a good number of songs that loosely revolved around the little hideaway farm in southern Ohio that we’ve called home for the last nine years. We wanted to collect this particular song cycle onto one project, if possible, and we needed a little extra musical real estate for that to happen. We weren’t married to the idea of a double album, but it sort of fell into place in real time.

LEO: How does the environment around your home influence your songs? Do you see a squirrel and get inspired, or is it more abstract?

LD:We haven’t written a song called “Squirrel!!” yet. But it’s a song that definitely seems to play in our dogs’ jukebox …

When we moved out here to this pre-Civil War farmhouse and this particular piece of land, we realized we didn’t know the names of much of anything — the trees, the songbirds, the weeds, the wildflowers. My father helped us fill in a few gaps before he died — he was always a bit of a birdwatcher and knew his trees. He said he heard birds out here he hadn’t heard since he was a boy growing up on his family farm in the 1930s — bobwhite quail, indigo buntings, bluebirds, killdeer … After he was no longer around to do the naming for us, we began to do the work of calling things by name, and they began to appear in our songs.

Naming is an act of respect, and love, and I think when we began affording our surroundings our careful attention, this place became our home. We had never written an album about home before. As we were fixing this place up, my father also encouraged us to “leave the edges wild,” and that became an important metaphor for us. That line found its way into several of the songs on the project.

LEO: What’s your relationship with Cincinnati like these days, especially now that you’ve moved farther out?

LD: We still do all our business in Cincinnati and have lots of friends who live there. Our three godchildren live in Cincinnati. And we still feel drawn to the neighborhood of Over the Rhine. Maybe someday we’ll have a little crash pad back in the neighborhood. It’s still the old Ohio River town that very much feels like the birthplace of the band.

LEO: Now that you — we — are all older than we were 20 years ago, does “maturity” sound more like a compliment if someone describes you or your music that way? Do you feel any older inside? Do you still get excited about making the next record or setting out on the next tour?

LD: We’ve been having more fun on this recent “Meet Me at the Edge of the World Tour” than we’ve probably had ever. I think we’re probably a little less conflicted at this point in our lives. We’ve embraced a calling. We know we’ll probably never be famous in a pop-culture sense, and that’s probably a really good thing. Hopefully, the work will speak for itself and continue to find a growing audience that’s real. And we’re crazy enough to believe that we’re still growing as writers. If we didn’t believe a record contained our best work, we wouldn’t put it out.

We’d like to think that some things get better with a little age. Good wine, good songs, good friendships … We’re in it for the long haul.

Over the Rhine with Matt the Electrician
Friday, Dec. 13
Kentucky Center for the Arts
501 W. Main St.
kentuckycenter.org
$25; 8 p.m.

Photo by Darrin Ballman.

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

You’re a good pianist, David Benoit

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He knows, OK? David Benoit’s been around for a while. He’s been doing all kinds of stuff since 1977, and he knows you’re coming to this show to hear the Christmas music you love from the “Peanuts” TV specials. He knows his real music — what some call smooth jazz — isn’t the hippest trip, but it’s what he loves, so if you don’t love it, that’s OK. He’s not especially rich or famous, but you know what? He’s done pretty good for himself. And if it takes playing “Peanuts” music every December, or having his music used by the Weather Channel to make sure the mortgage gets paid, well, whatever. It’s all music, and if it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad, right?

This week’s show “is a happy show,” Benoit agrees with a laugh. “If you don’t feel good after this show, then something’s wrong.”

His involvement in the “Peanuts” world goes back to his childhood. He was a fan of the daily comic strip, but when the first special aired on CBS in 1965, he fell in love with composer/pianist Vince Guaraldi’s score. “One of the reasons I became a jazz pianist is because I wanted to play like Vince,” he says now, the influence still looming almost a half-century later.

Benoit made his first foray into Christmas music in 1983 with his Christmastime album, which featured some of the same pieces used by “Peanuts.” His recording of the “Peanuts” favorite, “Christmas Time Is Here,” attracted their TV producer, Lee Mendelson. The producer asked Benoit to score music for the eight-part miniseries “This Is America, Charlie Brown” in 1988. (Guaraldi died of a heart attack in 1976, after scoring the special, “It’s Arbor Day, Charlie Brown.”)

“They were looking for someone to replace Vince and had been using the more traditional film-score people, and they wanted a jazz guy,” Benoit says. “I just hit it off with Lee immediately, and pretty soon, I got to meet (strip creator) Charles Schulz. I wound up scoring at least 15 CBS specials — a lot of it (featuring) the music of Vince Guaraldi, and a lot of it my music.”

Though Schulz died in 2000, Benoit has remained close with Schulz’s family and with Mendelson. “It’s something I’m very privileged and honored to be part of.”

Benoit has read the controversial 2007 biography of Schulz and says, “With me, he was a complete gentleman, and really nice. I can see with Lee — he was probably a little tougher on Lee, but he respected my music, and I had so much respect for him. It was a mutual admiration society … My experience was always really positive.”

Benoit has had a slightly weird career, noting that its highlight might be the accidental hit he had in 1981 in the Philippines. “Take a Look Inside My Heart” touched a chord with the melodrama-loving listeners there, who greeted him like a king and gave him the ability to pursue music as a career.

Benoit acknowledges that the average person on the street who knows “Peanuts” music, as played by anyone, probably might not know some of his other music, which includes compositions for symphonies as well as straight-ahead or smooth jazz. “It would be harsh to say, ‘Well, (‘Peanuts’) just pays the bills,’ but … it does pay the bills. Also, I do love that music, so I do come by it very sincerely. It’s not like, ‘Let me jump on to this bandwagon, I can make a lot of money …’ No, I love the music truthfully. It’s sincere, and I always feel very grateful to have that association.”

And, he laughs, it’s very tough in this world to become a famous jazz musician. “So thank God for ‘Peanuts’!” If anyone leaves the show wondering what else this guy Benoit has for sale, he’ll be happy if you check that out, too.

He will play a couple of his originals during the show, but audiences will more likely remember the participation of a local children’s choir, here borrowed from Noe Middle School. It’s part of the show in every city, making what’s already fun for the whole family something those participants will remember always. “How cool is that?,” Benoit says. “That’s what makes the show really unique.”

‘A Charlie Brown Christmas’ with David Benoit
Thursday, Dec. 5
Kentucky Center for the Arts
501 W. Main St.
kentuckycenter.org
$25; 8 p.m.

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

Louisville’s love letter

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Called “a love letter from the Louisville music scene,” Head Cleaner: A Louisville Music Compilation is a collection of 46 new songs from local artists of all stripes. Gubbey Records head Dave Rucinski decided to invest himself in this “labor of love” to call attention to the scene and expose it to both locals and those in the world outside our bubble.

“It is my belief that the Louisville music scene is at the very best it has been since the mid-to-late ’90s,” Rucinski says. “There are so many styles and numerous bands in town making high-quality original music that it rivals even the biggest music scenes across the country.”

As a “history freak,” Rucinski wanted to showcase what he was seeing and hearing and preserve it “so it was not lost to the air, and could be easily found in one place in a high-quality document form.”

Gubbey announced an open call in May for artists to submit one song each. The 46 songs received made the process “overwhelming, yet extremely awesome,” says Rucinski. Another open call was made for visual art; Matt Humble’s painting of the Belle of Louisville won that honor. As for the music chosen, “No one was turned away,” Rucinski says. “We did not play favorites for this release.”

He issued it primarily on cassette, “based on our love for releasing on odd, dead formats. I grew up listening to cassettes, and they will always sound better than a CD to me.” The cassettes also include a card leading to a digital download. Due to cost, a vinyl release is not planned.

The most challenging aspects were first mastering audio from 46 different sources to make the collection sound consistent in quality and volume, and then to sequence everything to make it feel as coherent as possible. Rucinski estimates that 155 musicians contributed, in addition to the five others who helped him with backstage details.

Despite taking up a large part of the year, Rucinski and Gubbey plan to do it again annually.

The New Vintage hosts a two-night release party, Friday and Saturday at 9 p.m.

Bombino’s world-class guitar joy

Omara Moctar is also known by his nickname, Bombino, which is also the name of his band. The 33-year-old guitarist, born and mostly raised in a nomadic Tuareg tribe in Niger, has already lived a life worthy of a book or a movie, full of way too many unique details to go into in this space (the man spent a week working with Angelina Jolie in 2008, for example).

In his youth, Moctar also lived in Algeria and Libya — it was in the latter where he was introduced to the guitar playing of Jimi Hendrix and Mark Knopfler. One world, indeed. After a stunning set at this summer’s Forecastle Festival, Bombino’s band is back for a show of their own.

LEO: Do you write your songs alone and then bring them to your band, or do they evolve from the band all playing together?

Omara Moctar: Usually, I will write my songs alone, but sometimes I have just a simple idea and it will develop as we play it together as a band. Mostly, though, the songs we play are songs I have written on my own, or they are adaptations of traditional Tuareg songs.

LEO: How is your latest album different from your first album?

OM: Well, the new album has a much stronger rock ’n’ roll sound. The last album, Agadez, was more relaxed and tranquil. This new album has much more muscle than the last one. (Producer) Dan (Auerbach) wanted to make the album sound like the live show, and, of course, my live show is much more big rock ’n’ roll than my first album.

LEO: Who do you think are the best guitarists playing today?

OM: That is a tough question. There are so many great guitarists of so many styles, it is very difficult to compare them. Santana is one of my favorites of my life and he is still with us, playing, so I will mention him first. I saw a guy named Gary Clark Jr. who I also thought was incredible. Vieux Farka Toure, the son of the great Ali (Farka Toure), is also a hypnotic player. So, yes, there are three guitarists who play very different styles that are all world-class.

LEO: Does your music ever put you in a trance while you’re playing?

OM: Oh, yes yes yes! Every time I am on the stage, I go into a happy trance. It is a deep, spiritual experience for me.

LEO: Are music and religion the same experience, or different?

OM: For me, they are very different. Religion will tell you how to behave in society and how to treat other people, as well as provide guidance about the spiritual world. For me, with music, there are no rules and no judgments, no right and no wrong. It is just joy for me.

LEO: A lot of young, middle-class Americans think you’re cool. Do you know what it is about you they respond to? Do you think you will be able to make them more aware of the part of the world you come from?

OM: Well, I hope that if they think I am cool and they enjoy my music, they will be curious to learn more about where I come from and my culture and our political situation. That is an important goal of what I am doing with my career. I think they like me because I play music they can appreciate, but I am very clearly from another world for them. So this is interesting. Like, for me, if I saw an American playing an interesting new style of Tuareg music, I would find this very intriguing.

LEO: How did you like Nashville when you were there to record? What do you think about all the parts of the U.S. you’ve seen?

OM: I really liked Nashville, but honestly, we weren’t able to visit much of the city. We were going from hotel to studio to hotel to studio almost every day. It was very hot there in June (2012), like back home. So it was nice to feel the hot sun of Africa in America. I have seen many, many places in America I really like. I love Portland and Seattle, California, Austin, Boston, New Mexico, Colorado ... there are just so many cool places in America! It is really a special place.

Bombino with Jubalson
Friday, Nov. 22
The New Vintage
2126 S. Preston St.
newvintagelouisville.com
$10-$15; 8 p.m.

Photo by Ron Wyman

Here
c. 2013 LEO Weekly

Southern by the grace of food

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Damaris Phillips pairs food and love, Louisville-style, for a national audience



At 10:30 on a Sunday morning in an Irish pub, there’s nowhere left to sit. Most of Molly Malone’s capacity crowd is there for a viewing party to cheer on Damaris Phillips, whose Food Network cooking program is moments away from premiering across the country. As her TV lead-in, the polarizing but undeniably popular Guy Fieri, winds down, her friends, family and fans chatter loudly to one another in the spirit of communal togetherness Phillips often promotes. But the bar’s TVs have been muted, and as Phillips’ show, “Southern at Heart,” begins, her message is being lost on the very people who went out of their way to see it in her presence. Being one part TV-star-in-training and two parts natural ham, Phillips saves her moment by drawing the crowd’s attention toward her and narrating her show live. “So, here I am,” she begins, raising her voice above the din, “sayin’ somethin’ real clever …” A suddenly focused bartender lunges for the remote and turns the volume up so TV Damaris can be heard, and the real-life, somewhat tired chef relaxes again, as the crowd applauds.

“Southern at Heart” is the result of a pilot Phillips presented during her time competing on “Food Network Star,” a series designed not only to entertain but also, and more importantly to the bottom line, to find the cable channel’s next breakout star — like Fieri, winner of season two. But nine seasons have aired now, and he remains the only true star to emerge from the competition. Phillips stumbled early in her 11-episode season. Going in, she “didn’t do a lot of preparing — which is pretty evident in episodes one, two, three and four,” she says now.

The show she wanted to make, if she were to win “FNS,” was originally called “Eat, Date, Love.” It would show Phillips teaching men “who are not real competent in the kitchen,” as she calls it, how to “win a woman’s heart” with food. What the show became is similar, but now expanded to “not just guys that are dating, but for guys who have been married ... Or, maybe their wife is getting ready to have a baby. So it’s different stages, and different places in relationships, but still trying to connect with their partner and show their partner how much they mean to them, to make their life better, using food.”

It’s not meant just for guys. “Hopefully, I can coach everybody,” Phillips says. “Women, I can coach them in the same way. They can see these recipes and say, ‘Oh, I can cook that for my gentleman!’ Or ‘my partner,’ or whoever they love — ‘I can cook that for my mom.’”

She’s an old-fashioned gal, and especially loves hearing men talk about the women in their lives and why those men are in love with them. Nothing made her happier during “Southern at Heart”’s first season than hearing the love story of a couple who have been together for more than 30 years. “That one — whoopf! That one gets you.”

But at the same time, she’s a very modern woman. Note how, above, she mentions “my partner” after “my gentleman” — she packs a building because everyone’s invited to her party.

Her arrival on the Food Network scene, it has been noted, was well-timed. Fellow Southern TV chef Paula Deen’s reputation was famously tarnished in mid-June after a lawsuit made her look like the kind of ignorant racist many good Southerners have been ashamed of for many years; while Phillips’ run on “Food Network Star” had been mostly filmed by then, only three episodes had aired, and her warm, open-hearted approach to cooking Southern food — “the food of love,” she proclaims — became increasingly appealing. By the time fans voted for their favorite contestant to get their own show in early August, Deen’s problems were still fresh in viewers’ minds.

“I don’t know Miss Deen personally, so I don’t really have much to say about her journey,” Phillips said last month, offering a cautious and seemingly planned answer that nonetheless tried to be as kind as possible. “I hope that regardless of anybody’s success or lack of success, I am my own person and I have a place on the network regardless of anyone else. And so I look forward to showing people who I am, and hope they like the style of food I’m cooking. I hope I bring something fresh to the network, and to people’s lives.”

At the “FNS” finale, Phillips and runner-up Rodney Henry of Baltimore stood waiting for their fate. Phillips became terrified, realizing she had no idea what her life might become. When she was named the winner, “I just blanked. I had nothing to say — and, clearly, I have plenty to say!”

At the Louisville viewing party, most of the people who had supported her along her surprising journey got to vicariously share the moment. “I don’t know how, in your life, you can have a better moment than hundreds of people you love cheering for you. I cannot imagine how it can get better than that moment, for me,” Phillips says. “And I have that! Everything else is just gravy … Sometimes I’ll re-watch it — it makes me get choked up, just seein’ how excited everybody was.”

Go back a year — there’s hardly a single foodie in Louisville who could have told you who Damaris Phillips was, as a chef. So how did she become the one dancing around the question of whether she’s next in line to be your favorite food TV personality?

Home Style
As a true Southern lady, Phillips might not want you knowing her precise age, but she’s got another birthday coming up on Dec. 8. In tribute to her lack of pretension — and because she gleefully notes that someone has created a skimpy Wikipedia page for her, uncertain of basic facts like year of birth (“1980/1981 {age 32–33},” it suggests), surely she won’t mind a clarification that she was born in 1980. Her father, Maury, was a funeral home director. Her mother, Mary, ran a career-counseling agency for people with disabilities. Maury and Mary had five children, with Damaris in the middle.

“I do not think I could have been raised by two better people,” she says. “They did a really good job of preparing us to be adults. Every time I look at my siblings, I think they are the most remarkable people. They’re funny and they’re kind and they’re able to figure stuff out. I think it’s because my parents were so good at raising (us to be) adults, not just kids.”

All alpha types, they do bicker, because “Everybody’s so bossy. All of us.”

“My dad was a really loud, really funny, very strange man. I know, you can’t see the connection,” she laughs. “And my mother, she is an alpha woman. She is a brilliant woman — smart and hard-working and tough, and really reasonable.”

When it comes to cooking, Phillips’ favorite holiday is tied to both flavors and memories. “My mom made cinnamon rolls for Christmas when I was growin’ up — like, her whole week: healthy, delicious ... tons of raisins and dates cinnamon rolls. I always think of that and quiche. It always felt so fancy.”

Father Maury passed away a few years ago, having suffered from a heart condition. His life has informed his daughter’s approach to cooking.

“I try to keep fit, I try to eat healthful — you see that in my cooking,” she says. “You can see the influence that my dad having a heart condition had on my cooking. I don’t cook ‘healthy food’ — I cook delicious food ... that sometimes happens to be healthy. I never want to go at it from that (“healthy food”) angle, but it is an influence in what I eat. I never want food to be harmful to people.”

She stresses moderation, noting there are many ways to add flavor and elevate food to make it “less bad” for you, like adding spices. “Not fat, heavy cream, not butter. I mean, I use butter, but it’s not …” she pauses, perhaps thinking about how much butter has become associated with Paula Deen in recent years. “I don’t think food has to be bad for you.”

Her show promotes modern Southern cooking techniques, highlighting healthier approaches without dwelling on health as a subject of discussion. “I’m always gonna be using whole wheat flour. I’m always gonna use lots of vegetables. You’re gonna see lots of seasoning ... I don’t fry a lot of stuff. I put oil on it and roast it in the oven. It can be argued that it’s not the most healthful food ever, but it is food you can eat for your whole life.”

Her healthy-living plan includes working out three times a week — at least on paper. “To be perfectly honest, I haven’t been in about six weeks,” she laughed during an October interview. “I used to be super-chubby. I used to not use my muscles. I used to not be able to run.

“Somebody told me one time to ‘be gentle with yourself.’ Be gentle when you’re trying to do something different or to change your habits … We’re always so encouraging with other people: ‘You’re doing so great, I’m so proud of you!’” she adds. “We don’t often take the time to be, like, ‘You got up this morning and walked those five miles; I’m proud of you.’ That helps.”

“Now, I can run! It feels good.”

The only thing more important to Phillips than doing something good for herself is doing something good for someone else. It’s a philosophy that informs her TV show, and it can be traced back to Christmas at home. “Everybody in my family is always more excited about giving presents to each other than opening presents ourselves. Half the time, you’re so excited that you got the perfect gift for somebody, and you’re so excited to give it to them the next day — hooo, I love that!”

Making her own TV show, she has been given her a unique opportunity to film in her hometown. Adding to her comfort is that she’s not the first of her siblings to break into TV. Brother Donald has worked on the production teams of “American Idol” and “So You Think You Can Dance,” and had also worked previously with the company producing “Southern at Heart”; he was hired to film supplemental shots around town.

“When you see it,” sister Damaris boasts, “you can tell that the person who filmed it loves this place.”

It worked out really well for her, once again — she’s the most comfortable at home, surrounded by family and friends, in the city she loves.

The Food Network executives approved this plan in part because Phillips still works as a culinary instructor in Louisville on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but probably also because they learned how best to use her during her “FNS” challenges. “I was worried early on that I was trying to show my personality more than my skill,” she says. Intimidated about standing out against 11 other somewhat qualified chefs, her goofy side took over briefly. “I felt like a little child — ‘Oh, I just look like I’m trying to get attention.’”

“It was a tough road. We hit some bumps.” As she stopped trying so hard to be different and focused on her cooking, “It became much easier for me. I also became something I was more proud of.

“The second I started to let people see who I am — not just a caricature, but myself — people have been in. They like it. They’re encouraging. I’m a little quirky. I’m a slightly strange woman. But nobody’s trying to mess with that (at Food Network).”

Only two minutes into her first “Southern” episode, Phillips is explaining sorghum to her national viewers. By the end of three episodes, she’s also spread the word about beer cheese and chow-chow. The show mixes her Southern pride and skills in both cooking and teaching with her own unique mixture of heartfelt sentiment, bossiness and occasionally vulgar, wacky humor. The show, and her long-term success, depends on her personality. Other “FNS” vets, like Jeff “Sandwich King” Mauro, whose show now follows “Southern at Heart,” are blandly likable and unlikely to become any more beloved than they already are. Phillips, however, is currently living on the border of anonymity and possible Rachael Ray-level fame. It depends on, among other things, if you think descriptions like the following are funny or not:

“This is called chow-chow, which you don’t think is gonna be impressive — but then you taste it, and you’re, like, ‘Wow-wow, chow-chow!’” Now add a surprisingly flirtatious and knowing edge to the delivery, and watch what happens.

Career Vision
Becoming a TV cooking star was not part of younger Damaris Phillips’ plans. That’s because she didn’t have a plan. She worked at Highland Coffee for a decade, leaving for Seattle with a boyfriend who was preparing to become a doctor. “I realized I could do coffee for the rest of my life,” she says. “But I wanted something that I woke up in the morning excited about, that was just mine.”

Across the country, isolated from family and friends, Phillips spent time in a library reading about food. After work, she would prepare elaborate meals, leaving Food Network on whenever she was alone, in part to keep her company. Watching “Food Network Star,” she thought, “Those people are so lucky that they get to do that.” Her then-boyfriend (or “gentleman,” in her parlance) encouraged her, suggesting she make a five-year plan to get on the show. “I kind of thought that if I got on, I could win,” she says. “I thought that if I worked hard, I could do it.”

As she struggled to work up the nerve to change her life’s course, her gentleman bought her a book for Christmas called “The Sharper Your Knife, The Less You Cry,” about a 30-something woman who went to culinary school. Phillips began her culinary studies two weeks later, back home at Jefferson Community & Technical College (JCTC). Her gentleman had to stay behind in Seattle for his work. After briefly maintaining their relationship long-distance, “It just worked out that it wasn’t ... the right time,” she says. “I wasn’t the person I wanted to be.”

As her studies began, she knew she loved cooking but was afraid to become a chef because she knew how hard restaurant work was. She didn’t know that becoming a culinary instructor was an option — yet by the time she graduated, that had become her calling. “That was just a lucky, wonderful surprise ... that happened because I decided to go for my goal. Since then, all the things I’ve been able to do, work-wise, have been amazing. Better than you could have imagined. Having the goal of ‘Food Network Star’ before all the steps that got me there — it made me forget that that was even the goal. Because I was having so much fun!”

She’s worked at Harvest, Wiltshire Pantry and 610 Magnolia, so her concerns about restaurant work come from experience — not that many could accuse the TV host, who still teaches at JCTC, of being afraid of work.

Additionally, she needs time to spend with her boyfriend, Darrick Wood, who she met four months before her Food Network adventure began. Single for a few years, she had been dating casually, always picking the wrong men. “I think, somewhere along the line, I believed that guys didn’t fall in love the way girls did.” But at a wedding, witnessing the union of “these two people who had absolutely found a partner for life,” Phillips was struck. “I was watching it and (moans) — literally, in my head, I was, like, ‘Damaris, you’re gonna have to start picking a different type of man if you want real love.’”

The way she tells it, she turned around and saw Wood across the room. “I saw him, laughing. He had the most beautiful laugh. And he had his head tilted back and he was laughing, and I said, ‘Oh! I know him!’ Then I was like, ‘Oh, wait. No, I don’t. But I will!’”

“So I strategically placed myself so he could hear how witty I was, and we started talking.”

During her time in New York filming “FNS,” they exchanged letters, hypothetical love stories for the Seven Dwarfs (her idea). Wood used a special pen that hid secret messages in his letters — Phillips could hold them up to the light, and they would sparkle.

Their relationship has been atypical in many ways. “The place we were at from where we started dating — (that was) completely different than where we are now. For me, with so many changes going on in my life, every single day, it is nice to have met someone that I’m excited to see what our future would look like, but I’m not in a rush to make that happen today … we’re navigating this big, huge thing together as a team. That is important, if we’re going to be a team together for the long haul.”

The End of the Beginning
Everyone asks her when they can go to her restaurant — surely that’s her goal, yes? “I do not foresee myself opening a restaurant any time in the near future,” she says. At some point, she would prefer to open an event space. “I love throwin’ parties, and so I think having a space where you could be in charge of the food but then also the entire venue — I think that would be a lovely way to make a living. But right now, I haven’t figured out that space yet.”

Whatever happens, Phillips intends to continue teaching, whether in a community college class or in front of millions. “I really, really love teaching people to cook. I really like bringing that back to peoples’ lives,” she says. “I think lives are greatly improved when you can cook in the kitchen together, when you spend time eating together.”

At Molly Malone’s on premiere day, Wood is by her side as she watches herself through the eyes of her most dedicated audience. After a typically goofy on-camera joke, the real person behind the TV star is shaking her head at her own lack of self-control. “I’m an idiot,” she mutters to herself, but she doesn’t seem upset.

A couple of days earlier, Phillips had said, “Generally, I wake up pretty happy. And I think I take that for granted. I wake up usually pretty excited, and I think that’s a gift. I have been really, really fortunate to have a job that I love, and to have a family who are remarkable, and to have friends who are the most fun ever.”

A family friend approaches, crying happily. Phillips embraces her and exchanges hugs with other well-wishers, from children to seniors. She’s accomplished her goal, giving of herself and bringing people together to celebrate over food. The crowd has dispersed and she’s once again just a Louisville lady out with her gentleman and a few close friends. There’s just one more thing she wants, so she heads to the bar to get it for herself.

“All right, now let me drink.”

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

I Don't Belong to Anyone

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Artists send their love to a Louisville icon



Sculptor Kevin Titzer lives in Saguenay, in the Canadian province of Quebec. “Gotta live somewhere,” he laughs. Geography and movement aren’t usually themes in the Evansville, Ind. native’s work, but his ongoing series of shows focused on interpreting music through visual art has led him all over the continent.

His new group show, inspired by the 20-plus years of Louisville native Will Oldham’s work in and around music, features four native artists (two who still live in Louisville) and almost two-dozen others from various locations. It’s the third show of its kind curated by Titzer. The first, in Seattle, paid tribute to They Might Be Giants in 2005. The second, on the Pixies, was seen in Venice, Calif., in 2011.

It wasn’t planned as a traveling showcase. Titzer created the first show while he was still living in Evansville, showing it in a Seattle gallery because they were showing other works by Titzer at the time. “I pretty much didn’t know what I was doing the first go-around,” he says.

The Pixies show was even more of a challenge. “Doing it long distance, it was a really tough show to get through,” he says. “So this time I felt, ‘I want to do something a little closer to where I’m from.’” By the time it starting coming together, however, he had moved to another country.

Titzer decided on Will Oldham as the subject. “At the end of the Pixies thing, I felt, like, ‘Oh, I’ve done my big commercial’ — not that the Pixies are that big and commercial — but, ‘I want to do my underground show. A little low-key show.’”

His plans shifted again, and “Troublesome Houses” (named for a 2010 song Oldham recorded as Bonnie “Prince” Billy) grew into a big project featuring artists from Portland, Ore., to Hamburg, Germany.

Titzer has been a fan since first hearing Oldham’s Palace Brothers, going back as far as Oldham’s early music days in the ’90s. A number of Louisville musicians attended the University of Evansville back then, he says, including the Watson Twins, and cross-pollinations between musicians and artists from the two cities influenced people in both places. It was one of the last pre-Internet exchanges of its type.

“I feel really old,” laughs the 41-year-old. (Oldham is now 43, and LEO was born two years before Oldham’s first record was released.) “Obviously, I’m biased in feeling nostalgic about that time, but it was harder to discover things,” says Titzer. “We got the job done by word-of-mouth, or zines … I think you appreciate it more when you have to do a little bit of research, not just a Google search.”

As Oldham’s career progressed, artistically and commercially, Titzer felt inspired by seeing his peer thrive. He says more than once that, despite not actually being from Louisville, he feels an affinity with the place and its people. As an artist from Evansville, “I can relate (to Oldham). If a guy from Louisville can go at it and be successful, and, on top of that, do it all on his own terms — which has always been impressive — then I can at least get off my ass and keep moving.”

Titzer has been getting off his ass for 15 years now. The contemporary art magazine Juxtapoz wrote, “Kevin Titzer makes some amazingly bizarre sculptures, the kinds that make you feel uncomfortable and inspired at the same time,” and the first gallery to exhibit his work was Louisville’s Images Friedman. He says he listens to a lot of music while working in his studio, often using its inspiration to fuel his own creativity. One of the artists included in this show is Jon Langford, a prolific visual artist and musician best known for leading the band the Mekons. Oldham wrote a song dedicated to that band at the beginning of his career.

Titzer has not met Oldham but says Oldham has approved the tribute. Titzer laughs when asked if he wants to meet its inspiration, and notes how awkward meeting a well-known figure can be when they don’t know anything about you. “He seems like a really nice guy … More than anything, I hope he sees the show and likes the artwork.”

‘Troublesome Houses: Art Inspired by Will Oldham’
Nov. 1-Dec. 14
PUBLIC
131 W. Main St.
louisvillevisualart.org
(Opening reception Nov. 1 at 6 p.m.)

"No Bad News" by Kevin Titzer

C. 2013 LEO Weekly

Dumpstaphunk: Good for the soul

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Many people can do an impression of Aaron Neville, the great soul, funk and pop singer. His son Ivan is one of them. But Ivan, now 54, long ago proved himself to be his own man, playing keyboards solo and for Keith Richards’ X-Pensive Winos, Bonnie Raitt, The Neville Brothers and even the Spin Doctors (just being a New Orleans Neville isn’t enough to pay the bills).

For the past decade, he’s led Dumpstaphunk, a lively band whose funk thrust simultaneously takes listeners back to the genre’s glory days in the 1960s and ’70s and moves the form into the future. The multi-generational band also includes Ivan’s cousin Ian Neville on guitar, drummer Nikki Glaspie and two bassists, Nick Daniels and Tony Hall. Inspired by Sly & the Family Stone and Parliament, able and willing to play all styles, Dumpstaphunk fuses funk, soul, rock and distinctively New Orleans rhythms into a crowd-pleasing smorgasbord.

Despite the fun unavoidable in their sound, Neville and band like to sing about issues at times — some of their new songs include “They Don’t Care” and one named after that most sensitive of New Orleans topics: “Water.”

Dumpstaphunk is a party band, he says, but some of their songs say a little something. “When people come to see us, they’re coming to have a good time, and then here and there we sneak a little message in. We’re trying to please you; we’re not trying to shove any opinion down anyone’s throat. When you have a chance to say something positive, or something that we feel needs to be said, we have the tendency to say it.”

How’s New Orleans been lately? “It’s cool. It’s still coming around,” Neville says. “People are coming down here, they’re bringing their business down here, the tourist thing is doing well … our football team is just crushing! (laughs). I’m very happy about that. New Orleans is doing good; we have a lot to be happy about.” They also have the best food in the world and the best music in the world, he adds.

Can music help people? “Oh, absolutely,” Neville says, “in many different ways. It helps people to heal from certain things that are going on in their lives. It helps people to sometimes get away from otherwise stressful things going on. Music is not only an escape but it is a healing tool, as well. Music is definitely good for the soul.”

Dumpstaphunk has taken their music to many festivals and jam-band gatherings, playing to all sorts of adventurous crowds, but nothing had prepared them for their latest adventure: opening for Lionel Richie. “Um, it’s a different crowd for us,” Neville says. “It’s not, you know, who we often see, but it’s good to play for an audience that may not be there to see your band. It’s good to be exposed to a … a vastly different audience.”

Again, bills have to be paid.

The members of the band range from early 30s to mid-50s, and drummer Glaspie is the newest member, having joined two years ago. The Berklee grad had previously played in Beyoncé’s all-female band and met Neville through another funky band she had played with, Soulive. Glaspie had been making annual trips to New Orleans’ Jazz Fest, meeting Neville in 2004 when Dumpstaphunk was just beginning and not even a full-time band yet.

“She can hang with the best of them,” her new boss says with a hearty laugh. “We don’t have to curb our behavior that much. As far as we’re concerned, she holds her own. The beautiful thing is that we do have a female perspective, and that’s a cool thing — also, the voice! We’ve got a female voice, and she’s a badass drummer, so all that wrapped up is a beautiful thing.”

That female aspect was important to the band, whose primary inspirations — Sly Stone, George Clinton — had incorporated multiple singers of all types in their family-style music.

Dumpstaphunk’s latest and second full-length album is called Dirty Word, so I asked Neville what the dirty word of the day was. He laughed and replied, “Funk!”

Dumpstaphunk with Mojoflo
Thursday, Oct. 24
Headliners Music Hall
1386 Lexington Road
headlinerslouisville.com
$15; 9 p.m.

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

Thao goes behind bars

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Thao Nguyen stepped away from the music business a couple of years ago, and it was the best thing she could have done for her career. After five years and three full-length albums, the San Francisco resident put her numerous instruments down and went to prison.

She wasn’t in trouble. Nguyen had as much, if not more, passion for women’s advocacy than she did for music. She decided to act on her interest by volunteering with the California Coalition for Women Prisoners. She was stunned to meet many women whose crimes had been committed while defending themselves from domestic violence attacks.

Noting that many of her fans are likely also fans of the Netflix series “Orange is the New Black,” Nguyen was asked if she enjoys the series and sees any validity to its depiction of women in prison. “Yeah, on a lot of levels. I have, like many, devoured it. At first, I was a little skeptical, of course, but around the third or fourth episode, when they start presenting the different stories of all the folks inside — obviously, there are concessions made to be entertaining, but the compassion demonstrated is what needs to happen on a greater scale.”

Her compassion was formed, to some degree, by absorbing music from different cultures. As a child, she was obsessed with Motown. An older brother turned her onto hip-hop, and she couldn’t escape ’90s pop. As she began playing guitar, she discovered rural blues, old-time and bluegrass.

The fourth album by her band, Thao & the Get Down Stay Down, is called We the Common. It has received much acclaim since its release last winter, and the band has spent a lot of time playing at festivals since. Nguyen has been glad for the chances to be heard, but says she’s found the best crowds are, not surprisingly, the nighttime crowds who have already starting getting loose. “It always feels more natural to play in the evening time … it’s an easier crowd. But last week, at Austin City Limits, we played in the daytime and people were acting like it was the nighttime,” she laughs.

Nguyen has displayed a sharp sense of humor in several online videos and has been whipping out her cover of Ludacris’ “What’s Your Fantasy” on her current tour. Nguyen says, “It’s one of the highlights — for me — of the set. I do it more often than I don’t do it … It’s so hard not to. But it’s better when it’s a surprise.”

Combining humor and activism comes naturally to the musician, noting that her humor helps keep her messages from becoming too tedious for fans who like the tunes but don’t otherwise care. “It’s important for me to be accessible and to be pretty straightforward about what I’m about.”

Her non-musical work has helped her grow as a songwriter. “I think so. I think the songs are more outward-looking and outward-reaching … I think there’s a level of consciousness and humanity in these songs that didn’t exist before, and that’s because of all the people I’ve met, and all the amazing strength I’ve witnessed.”

Thao & the Get Down Stay Down with The Fervor
Sunday, Oct. 20
Zanzabar
2100 S. Preston St.
zanzabarlouisville.ticketfly.com
$15; 9 p.m.

Photo by Nick Walker

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

Aimee Mann: Louisville’s other movie star

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Throughout her 30-year career, Aimee Mann has accomplished much: hit songs and MTV stardom in the ’80s, receiving Academy Award and Grammy nominations for the same song in the ’90s and paving the way for musicians to escape the major-label system by self-releasing music at the turn of the century. But what people might not realize is the impact Aimee Mann has had on the Louisville movie scene.

Part of the reason is that “Pleased to Meet Me,” the movie in which she stars with fellow musicians John Doe and Joe Henry, won’t be released until Oct. 10 — and that’s only in New York. A local release date hasn’t been announced yet for the movie, which was shot in Louisville over three weeks last year.

“We were trying to have a day off there, but we couldn’t,” Mann says of her time as a movie star. They ended work some days early enough to get late dinners, but not much more. “I’m very disappointed, because I’m now intimately acquainted with a half-dozen restaurants in town I’m really dying to get back to.” Often spotted at Please & Thank You, Mann and her costars also managed to eat at Jack Fry’s three times during their stay. “I really do love that town,” she says.

Henry, whose brother David lives in Louisville and co-wrote the movie’s screenplay, is “a real foodie,” Mann says. “He swung this arrangement where he was going to write about Louisville for (AFAR Magazine), so we all ate out on someone else’s dime.”

(A fun side note: Joe Henry’s wife is a sister of Madonna (yes, that one). Mann’s husband is musician Michael Penn, whose brother Sean was once famously, loudly married to Madonna.)

Mann laments that she won’t get to see more of the city when she returns for this weekend’s concert. “When you’re on tour, it’s a lot of in-and-out. You get into town, you go to the venue and you’re pretty much (stuck) at the venue. It’s not so easy to get out ... That’s just the way it is. You’re there to work.”

Mann has appeared on numerous TV shows through the years, including a buzzed-about recent “Portlandia” sketch, but the music-centric “Pleased to Meet Me” is her first major role. Mann didn’t have time to be nervous, though, because the very indie production couldn’t afford it.

“I don’t really act. I think acting is very difficult,” she says. “But because the part was enough like … I could envision myself in that situation very easily, so I just did, like, ‘How would I react?’ I didn’t have to formulate a real character-character.”

It’s Mann’s second role in a movie significant to a Louisville audience. Though her role as a German nihilist who loses a toe in 1998’s “The Big Lebowski” was filmed in her hometown of Los Angeles, LEO readers don’t need to be reminded what that movie means to Louisville.

About her other locally notable movie role, Mann laughs, “Yeah, people are really into the ol’ ‘Lebowski.’” She hasn’t performed at any of the Lebowski Fests yet, and didn’t know it was a possibility — her impression of the festival was that actors from the movie just show up. “What does that consist of? What does one do? You know, I had two lines in German. It’s not like I was a big player.” Informed that bands do perform, she brightens and exclaims, “Well! It’s looking totally different now.”

Mann’s current project is The Both, a collaboration with another acclaimed singer-songwriter, Ted Leo, in what she calls “kind of a power trio” format, with Leo on guitar, Mann on bass and Scott Seger on drums. This tour sees Leo opening with a solo set, and then joining Mann for a few songs during hers.

The Both has been recording an album, and Mann’s label, Super Ego, hopes to release it in February. “Part of the fun of the project has been trying to find the place where we meet,” she says about working with the punkier Leo. Thin Lizzy emerged as a shared reference point. “I think we’re also both in the mood for that band experience … sometimes being solo, when you have all the responsibility and all the attention — it’s just a different experience. And it’s fun to be part of a group.”

Aimee Mann with Ted Leo
Sunday, Oct. 6
Clifton Center
2117 Payne St.
cliftoncenter.org
$34-$38; 7:30 p.m.

Photo by Sheryl Nields

c. 2013 LEO Weekly

It's all in the game

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The Louisville/Bloomington post-punk band Waxeater issues a challenge to the smartest, savviest Americans this month: Sure, you love “The Wire.” But have you made an entire concept album all about “The Wire”?! With song titles like “Omar Comin’,” “Game Recognize Game” and “A Man Has to Have a Code,” Waxeater’s Baltimore Record will make you say “Sheeeeeit.” The band plays Third Street Dive on Oct. 20, and the album will be available for purchase there.

LEO spoke with guitarist Rob Montage.

LEO: Whose idea was this?

Rob Montage: It was mine. I had it floating around for a couple of years when I started writing songs that were about the show. I was, like, “I should write a whole record about the show.” It became, “Let’s have a pop culture hook while also talking about our own stupid problems, which are so much less important than the problems of the people on that show.”

LEO: Are you comparing yours versus theirs?

RM: Not necessarily. More like plot references and character references to the show while also talking about not necessarily my problems, but middle-class, white punks who grew up in the city, like, “We have problems, too, we have bills and we have relationship issues …” But then, let’s take a step back and look at real problems.

We’ve never taken a very serious angle to anything, so it felt like a good way to talk about some semi-serious stuff while also being sarcastic about everything, too.

LEO: Does that make this your “growing up” record?

RM: I guess (laughs). There are serious things going on, but it’s also a record about a TV show. We didn’t sit down and write a Propagandhi album.

c. 2013 LEO Weeekly

An offering of love

Honor: opening for the Dalai Lama at the KFC Yum! Center. Bummer: because His Holiness is running late, your 45-minute set gets cut down to 15 minutes. Also, as a Buddhist, the Dalai Lama only listens to spiritual music, shunning all the rest, including your jazz.

For some, this would be a problem, but most people aren’t Dick Sisto. The veteran vibraphonist and radio host also practices spiritual work. A protégé of Thomas Merton, Sisto has been a seeker for decades.

Sisto’s latest album, Engaging Compassion, a duo with pianist Kenny Werner, is comprised of six new songs — three written by each composer — worked up for the event that occurred on May 19. “The gig sometimes dictates the inspiration,” Sisto explains. “There was great inspiration, but at the same time, it was daunting, because I knew I didn’t want to play some straight-ahead jazz.” He checked out Tibetan music on YouTube, learning that there are some exiled Tibetan musicians here “looking more like punk rockers. But, still, very Tibetan. It was very interesting.”

The inspiration flowed, faster than normal, including the album’s opener, “Save Tibet,” which features Sisto playing a talking drum. He recruited Werner because the pianist has a similar interest in meditation, and both men share a love for Keith Jarrett and Bill Evans.

All proceeds from the album go directly to Tibetan nuns to help with housing and meditation space. Discs can be purchased at Heine Bros. Coffee and Rainbow Blossom locations.

Most of it was recorded in a donated studio at the Kentucky Center. Another downtown landmark, the Seelbach Hotel, was Sisto’s musical home for two decades until recently. But now the hotel has brought back Sisto for a limited run on Friday nights in their gorgeous Rathskeller, ending this week. The concerts are free, and Sisto notes that, sonically speaking, more people filling up the room makes the acoustics sound even better.

Photo by John Nation.

Here
c. 2013 LEO Weekly

Jessica Hernandez: A natural woman

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As Jessica Hernandez was readying her full-length debut album for a February 2014 release, she was in El Paso, Texas, finishing the album’s mixing process. Initial problems connecting with LEO’s reporter, she said, were due to the studio being located “on a pecan farm, in the middle of nowhere. It’s hard to use a cell phone out here.”

It’s an example of how far the Detroit native has come in her journey from local popularity to possible Next Big Thing. The first-generation American, whose band describes their sound as “big-indiefolkestraljazz&B,” is the child of parents who own a bakery, and the hardworking singer stood out in the scene in part due to the stage she built in the loft above the bakery, hosting shows by her band and many others.

Another standout feature for the 25-year-old is her voice, a big instrument equal parts soulful, jazzy and rockin’. At 5 feet, 5 inches tall, Hernandez might not look like her body can support such a voice. She’s not hearing what her audience hears, anyway.

“I hear my voice one way, and I’m used to the way it’s always sounded in my head,” she says. “Now, recording a lot, it’s weird to me (hearing it played back). I’m just, like, ‘I don’t sound like that!’” While working on her current record, Hernandez found herself consistently wanting to redo her vocals.

“My producer’s, like, ‘We love you, but you’re fucking crazy. It sounds great, you’re just being weird,’” she laughs. “I’ve had to learn to trust everyone else around me to tell me when it sounds good. It’s the same thing when people hear their voice on a voicemail: ‘That’s not me …’”

She found another solution to her dilemma recently in Pontiac, Mich. The band decided to release a single, with a new song on the “A” side and a Conway Twitty cover on the back, and went to an analog-only studio to record it. Hernandez says, “We went there and recorded live-to-tape, just one take through, and it was such a different experience. There’s just such a warmth to everything: The vocals and the drums and everything just sound so warm, so natural that you wind up not wanting to do anything to it.

“It’s weird,” she continues, “There’s so many imperfections when you’re doing something live and you don’t have the ability to go in and mess with things, but at the same time, it’s so forgiving. The flaws have so much character. Now I only want to record analog (laughs). I’m really dorky about it.”

She’s unable to hide her dorkiness, introducing the song “Young, Dumb & Drunk” on the band’s live EP Live at the Magic Bag by telling the audience, “We’re nervous, too, so don’t be embarrassed to dance or … somethin’ …”

Hernandez and the Deltas got their big break when a Capitol Records radio representative from Detroit passed the band’s CD around to employees at Capitol’s Blue Note division. “Somehow the president of Blue Note got a hold of it and ended up calling me on my cell phone one day,” she says. “We started talking about music, and all about life and everything, and talked for an hour, and then we worked out a plan to see me on my own stage, with our hometown crowd and all that. That ended up being really cool.”

Upon playing a triumphant show in front of all their friends and signing to Blue Note, the Deltas made their album — and then watched as everyone who believed in them lost their jobs after Universal took over the company. “It’s super-stressful over there,” says Hernandez. “I talked to the president of Blue Note about what that meant for me. He was pretty straightforward, saying, ‘I don’t know, because I don’t know who has a job here at this point.’”

Hernandez was lucky, getting the rights to her album back and stopping it from being buried in a vault. Now she’s working on starting her own label to release it. “I’m doing a self-release of the record I recorded with a major-label feel. It’s kind of a cool thing — we had this major label budget and attention to it, and now we’re releasing it as a self-release. It’s kind of a weird thing, but I’m excited for it. And nervous.”

Jessica Hernandez and the Deltas with Dr. Vitamin
Wednesday, Sept. 18
Zanzabar
2100 S. Preston St.
zanzabarlouisville.ticketfly.com
$5; 9 p.m.

c. 2013 LEO Weekly