The life and death of Young Widows

What happens when the lights go out for the dark rockers?

Evan Patterson reinvents Young Widows each time. “It’s intentional. The idea of a band releasing the same record over and over again, I’ve always tried to stray from.”

Easy Pain, which comes out May 13, is the third Young Widows studio album guitarist/vocalist Patterson, bassist/vocalist Nick Thieneman and drummer Jeremy McMonigle have made for label Temporary Residence Ltd. since 2008 (a first album with a different drummer and label home was released two years prior).

“Some people always go, ‘I don’t really like the new record’ — it’s because it’s not the same thing as the last one,” Patterson says. “They might not like the mood of the new record, or the general approach to how the entire record flows — but we’ve always tried to make very cohesive albums, rather than just a bunch of songs on a record that don’t make sense together.”

Easy Pain is not a concept album, but there is an overarching theme. “It turned into this whole idea about accepting death. The more you accept death, the more exciting life becomes, and the more you live to your full potential,” he says.

“The last song on the album is called ‘The Last Young Widow.’ In my mind, it’s about a mother birthing a fatherless child, and the mother actually is on her deathbed at the same time as she’s birthing the child. And whether or not she’s going to go to heaven or go to hell, or just die. It’s more about accepting life, being prepared to die, and not worrying about what happens after you die.”

If it sounds like it’s heavy spiritually as well as musically, then you might be on Patterson’s wavelength.

“Yeah, it is, actually,” he says. “It speaks to me more … I feel like my lyrics in Young Widows had been more self-absorbed and more personal, and this record’s not very personal at all. It’s more storytelling. They’re songs I can sing at any point, and they’d still have the same energy and meaning they did when I wrote them.”

He had “a very specific idea” about how Easy Pain should sound, from the instruments to the vocals. One inspiration was the recording of John Lennon’s “How Do You Sleep?,” produced by Phil Spector. Another was Iggy Pop’s album The Idiot; Pop’s vocal approach changed the way he sang this time, as did Patterson’s experience playing in two different bands lately, Old Baby and Jaye Jayle. “I used my voice in ways I haven’t been able to attempt.”

He approached the creative process differently this time around, part of his continued evolution. In the past, Patterson says, he would write down lyrics for the music the band had written together, often working up lyrics from demos.

This time, as the band played their new music live, Patterson sang “jibberish,” sometimes finding words as he vocalized. “I didn’t have any clue what I was saying … Other times, it was just, like, howls and moans that were creating melodies. The whole idea is that I was hoping I would find something I wouldn’t find just sitting down (and) listening to it, writing down lyrics and thinking of melodies that way. Instead, it was more of an organic approach to the live energy of playing the songs.”

Some older songs bring him back to specific moments that have since passed. He doesn’t feel the same anymore, or care as much as he once did. “With these songs, I can feel this way for the rest of my life,” Patterson says. “I feel like I’ve summed up my attitude, the way I feel about life and religion and science and the whole thing.”

In addition to his three bands, his brother Ryan has, for a decade, led the band Coliseum, now also part of the Temporary Residence gang. Evan Patterson agrees music is his religion. “No doubt. I depend on music as an outlet and as a form of expression and family and communication.”

Church, he says, can be going to the practice space, or going to a friend’s house to listen to records. ”A lot of times, where the magic happens, the more spiritual side of playing music, is when you’re sharing it with other people.”

Young Widows with Helms Alee and Anwar Sadat
Tuesday, May 13
The New Vintage
2126 S. Preston St.
newvintagelouisville.com
$10; 9 p.m.

Photo by Amber Estes Thieneman

Here
c. 2014 LEO Weekly

Andy made it after all

Louisvillian Andy Sturdevant left his hometown in 2005 for Minneapolis. Since, he has thrived as an artist, writer, arts administrator and man-about-town, connecting creative types of all stripes. His first book was published recently, and LEO checked in with the man himself about his new life.

LEO: Would you not be the “you” you are now if you had stayed in Louisville?

Andy Sturdevant: I don’t know if I’d be doing exactly the sort of work I’m doing now if I’d stayed, since so much of it has been specifically shaped by the cultural landscape in the Upper Midwest and so many of the people here. So much of the path I’ve followed is so specific to Minneapolis as both a physical place and as a stand-in for a specific set of cultural values. And so much of the writing and art has been about the place, it’s hard to imagine making it in quite the same way about another place, even one where I grew up.

But at the same time, I don’t know if I’d make that kind of work if I hadn’t spent years going to shows at the Rudyard Kipling, or performing for 20 people at Pandemonium Arcade with Mickey Hess, or reading Burt the Cat, or working at Preston Arts Center selling acrylic paint to artists, or renting weird cult movies at Around the World Video and Wild and Woolly. I might have had roughly equivalent experiences anywhere, but I wonder if they might have been touched quite the same way by that wild, smart-ass Louisville quality.

LEO: The music scene here was a big influence on you as a teen. Were you also making art back then? Writing?

AS: The music scene certainly was a big part of my life in Louisville, but that really didn’t come along until later. I was scribbling away making cartoons and writing weird little short stories years before I’d ever helped load an amplifier into the back of a minivan. LEO, WFPL and The Courier-Journal were all, in their own ways, enormous influences on me growing up. In some ways, it was easier to absorb art and writing influences than it was music influences, especially when I was a teenager out in the suburbs and not really involved in the music scene. The music scene seemed really distant and inaccessible and too cool for me personally when I was 14 or 15 — it wasn’t until I read “Slamdek A-Z” that I thought, “Oh, gee, I probably could have been part of this” — but the newspaper came right to the house, and LEO was easy to find anywhere. I read both voraciously and admired all the personalities.

LEO: Many would expect a fellow with your widescreen view of the world to live in Brooklyn or San Francisco. Is Minneapolis actually a more rewarding place to make a career?

AS: At my going-away party in 2005, there was actually a poster I’d made with some friends hung on the wall by the front door, where I’d written the names of other major cities where I might have considered moving, like Brooklyn and San Francisco and Chicago and Detroit and a few others. They all had some disqualifying factor scrawled in next to them — “too gritty,” “too granola,” “too easy,” etc. At the bottom it said something like, “Nothing else left — looks like it’s Minneapolis!” So there was a certain glibness to my initial decision, but it really turned out to be a great fit. I wouldn’t say categorically it’s more rewarding than anywhere else for a person to make a career, but it has been for me.

There is a fantastic artistic community, the two cities are always interesting to explore and investigate, and there’s a deep and well-tended-to artistic and political heritage. You can live fairly cheaply and eat and drink well. It’s a great place for high-quality dairy products, bike riding, literary reading series, nice duplexes and public art. Something about the understated quality of the culture was a good fit for me, too. I really don’t think for a minute a 25-year-old version of me would have done very well in Brooklyn or San Francisco in 2005. I think that would have been a classic flame-out cautionary tale.

‘Potluck Supper With Meeting to Follow’
By Andy Sturdevant. Coffee House Press; 224 pgs., $22.

Here
c. 2014 LEO Weekly

RuPaul’s family affair: 'Drag Race' comes to Headliners

“RuPaul’s Drag Race” has proven to be much more than just another reality TV show. In six seasons, it’s become a groundbreaking platform, introducing people from all walks of life to what goes into becoming a drag queen and what goes on behind the scenes, as well as introducing the real and varied people who go into drag as a performing art.

The show’s popularity has also defined its cable home, Logo, and raised the profiles and fortunes of dozens of its queens along the way. On Sunday, some of them stop by Headliners for a touring version of the show. The Louisville stop will include Sharon Needles, Jinkx Monsoon, Ivy Winters, Carmen Carerra, Pandora Boxx, Phi Phi O’Hara and Mimi Imfurst.

For host RuPaul — who became famous in the early 1990s but saw the culture change back on him during the Bush years — its success has been doubly satisfying, as issues like gay marriage concurrently become mainstream.

“Even though I’m a former contestant and winner, I’m still the world’s biggest fan of this damn game show,” says Needles. All of the backstage knowledge leaves when he tunes in, he says, adding with characteristic sass, “I believe it’s just 42 minutes of live competition! Not 36 hours, two days, 40 cameras and a lot of editing!”

One straight friend RuPaul brought along on his journey is sidekick Michelle Visage, a former pop singer who’s now a married mother of two and a judge on the series. The host of the live show, Visage reveals that life on tour is less exciting than fans might hope. Traveling on their compact tour bus, “Most of us are so tired, most of the queens are sleeping or working on their computers, editing their videos or music for their numbers. So it’s really quiet. It’s not like the sing-along bus you’d think it would be.”

For Visage, whose dream is to perform on Broadway, the “Drag Race” live show is a chance for her to sing again. She says the production is different than seeing a show at a club like The Connection or Play. “There are theatrical elements you don’t usually get in a bar. It’s a video-incorporated show; it’s seamless, the way it runs from queen to queen.”

Visage and Needles agree that the “Drag Race” experience gives all queens, from pageant-style beauties to more creative, personality-driven types, a chance to show their best and let the audience decide which style they prefer. Both also note that the pageant-style queens are less comfortable speaking on stage, and aren’t expected to on tour. Visage and Needles were inspired by punk rock-type icons from Divine to Joan Jett and Jayne County. “You were so impressed by their personalities that you couldn’t help but see the beauty in them,” Needles says.

“If you look like the Western standard of consumeristic beauty — sure, you’re gorgeous, but ain’t nobody gonna remember yo’ ass,” he adds.

Needles notes that what makes RuPaul special is that, “While he has a very classic beauty, he can use that juxtaposition of being extremely witty and also very inspiring … RuPaul was a club kid punk. And then I think she realized that she wanted to be the first drag queen that could push beyond the nightclub and into every home, and make a niche in the pop culture.”

The live show gives some queens chances to show more than TV time allows. “We want to change the perception some people have that drag’s not an art form, that these are just boys dressing up as girls,” Visage says. “They don’t give enough credit to these amazingly gifted, talented performers.”

Visage remembers one amazing performance that happened here in 1990. “I haven’t been in Louisville since (her group Seduction) opened up for Milli Vanilli … It was amazing, it was their opening night. I’m excited to be back! I can’t believe it’s been that long.”

She also can’t believe she’s talking to a straight man about her show. “It’s like talking to my husband. There are some out there … it’s great when I get emails or Facebooks from them. It’s wonderful that they’re a part of it. Some, they watch as a family, the kids love it — it’s fantastic. RuPaul’s bringing families together.”

‘RuPaul’s Drag Race: Battle of the Seasons’
Sunday, April 27
Headliners Music Hall
1386 Lexington Road
headlinerslouisville.com
$30; 10 p.m.

Here
c. 2014 LEO Weekly

Mono: The LEO interview

Beautifully rocking around the world for 15 years now, Japan’s Mono has earned many fans, especially for their live performances. Mono plays Headliners Music Hall on Friday, and LEO asked leader/guitarist Takaakira Goto a few questions:

LEO: You play an average of 150 shows a year – so how do you balance time for family, friends, and other interests?

Takaakira Goto: It is complicated, but everyone you mention – friends and family – they understand how much music means to each of us, and how this is our passion. Because of this, they are forgiving and generous about the time we must spend away. When we are home, we don’t have other jobs. So we are able to spend as much time as possible then with family and friends.

LEO: How do people in different countries define, or talk about, your music? Does it vary based on which country or continent you are in?

TG: It seems that fans in most places are similar when talking about music. We have a wider audience elsewhere in the world, as does most music. In Europe, for example, it would not be uncommon for older people (50+) to be at a show, and possibly be people who simply read an article about the band and decided to come hear it. American audiences seem to be less adventurous than that, and we are mostly playing to people who know about the band.

LEO: What is your favorite way to compose music? Solo, together, at home, on the road?

TG: I write the music solo, and mostly at home alone. Sometimes I have the time during soundcheck to work on ideas or play through them late at night in the hotel, but mostly tour is too busy to accomplish much.

LEO: You plan to record a new album again this fall. Is this an especially productive time for the band, or a normal pace?

TG: We will record immediately following this tour in late May. We recorded our last album almost 2.5 years before that, but the album before that was three years. It’s sort of a normal schedule for us. When we first started as a band, we put out albums every two years, but now the touring involved is longer, which makes less time for writing new music, taking a break, etc. So it seems like regular pace now.

LEO: Your American label, Temporary Residence Ltd., is run by Jeremy DeVine, who is from my hometown, Louisville, Kentucky. What is your relationship like with him and his crew? Do you have a favorite TRL band (besides yours)?

TG: We’ve worked together with Jeremy and TRL for about 13 years. He is my hero, and also a part of our family. I feel we’ve been growing together all this time, and I am always telling him we will be releasing new albums on TRL even when we are 80-year-old rock guys. There are many great bands and artists on TRL who are long-time friends, especially Explosions in the Sky, Envy, Bellini, The Drift, Eluvium, Tarentel, Majeure and Maserati.

Here
c. 2014 LEO Weekly

Partially famous

It sounds like a movie, but with a Kentucky twist: Four guys who played together in the 1970s went their separate ways; one became a star. Now, decades later, they got the band back together.

Harry Bickel (banjo, vocals), Harry “Sparky” Sparks (guitar, vocals) and Doc Hamilton (fiddle, mandolin) were the core of the Buzzard Rock String Band in 1975. They were all in their 30s; the Harrys had careers. But Bickel had bought a 12-room Victorian in Cherokee Triangle, and it also became home to an instrument repair shop, a practice space, Hamilton and the 18-year-old guitarist from Oklahoma who had just joined the band the Bluegrass Alliance — Vince Gill.

The 1960s and ’70s were a vibrant time for old-time, bluegrass and newgrass music in Louisville, and Bickel’s house, “The Bluegrass Hotel,” became its center. Soon, though, Gill left for California. By 1980, Sparks and Hamilton had also moved away. New members joined Bickel; an album, I’ve Got the Blues for My Kentucky Home, was released in 1988 by June Appal Records. The Buzzards were soon comatose.

The four friends stayed friends. In 2012, 55-year-old Gill and his now-retired former bandmates met up at Gill’s home studio in Nashville. For two days, the men, augmented by bassist Charlie Cushman and accompanied by Gill’s dog Chester, laid down the tracks that would make up Nobody Special, their new album.

In the album’s liner notes, Bickel writes, “It is really good that the four of us did this now. Sparky and Doc are both in their seventies. Of the original band, I’m the youngster in my late sixties. Vince, of course, is still just a kid to us. One day, one of us will be gone and the four of us will never have this opportunity again. We’re just glad that we had the opportunity at all.”

Several current and former members play Sunday, April 27, at 5 p.m. in the U of L Red Barn. Will Gill be one of the performers?

Here
c. 2014 LEO Weekly

New World Order: Punk rockers and children

For an activist and rebellious musician like Efrim Menuck, one of the hardest parts of touring these days is finding a good playground. Or a museum, or someplace else to go during days on the road. Not exactly for him, though — Menuck and his partner, Silver Mt. Zion violinist Jessica Moss, have a son, Ezra Steamtrain Moss Menuck, who will be 4 years old this summer.

“It’s exhausting! It’s tiring having a kid out on the road with you, but he’s having a good time. I wouldn’t recommend it for everyone, but it works for us,” the elder Menuck says. “But it’s hard to come up with activities some days.”

What does Ezra like to do? “What doesn’t he like to do? Lots of arts and crafts, lots of running around — he’s got a push scooter, he likes to roll around on that. Mostly, he just likes hanging out with the band.”

One might think that a 43-year-old with a young child would be carrying around less rage about injustice. Such a person doesn’t know Efrim Menuck well yet.

“I feel more angry since my son was born than I did before he was born,” he says. “It’s a lot harder to just resign yourself to things with this innocent little creature that’s pure of love and hope and innocence and light … and you know you’re hoisting him into a world that’s gonna do its darndest to beat the shit out of him. That’s a horrible state of affairs to try to grapple with.”

“I feel like things have gotten a lot worse in my lifetime — and they didn’t start out that great,” he adds. “It’s not like we were born into a glorious, hopeful age. But it seems to get heavier year after year after year.”

Surely things must be getting better now, years beyond Bush and Cheney?

“It doesn’t seem like that, right? I guess viscerally, not seeing those ass clowns on TV every night, but functionally, things seem a lot worse. I mean, in Canada — I can’t pretend to speak for the United States.”

In the U.S., some Louisville music has inspired Menuck through the years — Will Oldham, The Sonora Pine and “Slint, obviously,” he says. “For sure, a good town for bands.”

A discussion of Slint leads Menuck to address the notion of “post-rock,” the genre some label his bands as falling into. “The ‘post-rock’ thing is pretty lazy, because there’s not a lot of commonality with a lot of the bands (that get lumped into the genre tag). There’s some generic, like, ‘win-the-race’ kind of music that’s uplifting in that way, but in Godspeed and Mt. Zion, we’ve rejected that term.”

The guitarist/pianist/vocalist, also known for his groundbreaking work with fellow Montreal band Godspeed You! Black Emperor, still identifies as a punk rocker. “We’re coming out of rock, we’re coming from a rock place, and we make no bones about it. But we came of age in a time where we’re familiar with the limitations of rock music, but we’re still able to love it.”

The latest Mt. Zion album, Fuck Off Get Free We Pour Light On Everything, their seventh full-length, was released in January. (A new remix EP, Hang On To Each Other, will be in stores on April 29, and possibly for sale at shows.) It’s arguably their rockist work to date. If there’s a theme to it, it speaks to the troubles of raising a child in today’s world.

In the past, Menuck says, they’ve usually worked songs out live before going to record them in a studio. This time was different, as the band went to the studio without much written or honed. “We had a couple songs we’d been playing live; the rest, we wrote a couple weeks before we went in the studio,” he says. “Definitely, this time there was more freedom to come up with a thesis and write the songs to fit the general thesis.”

One thing Menuck can’t do is intentionally try to make a hit to pay for Ezra’s expenses. “I don’t know if we could write a popular song if we tried.” Though life on the road is different now, “Whatever impact (having a child) had has been more existential.”

Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra with Amen Dunes
Thursday, April 17
Headliners Music Hall
1386 Lexington Road
headlinerslouisville.com
$12-$15; 9 p.m.

Photo by Yannick Grandmont

Here
c. 2014 LEO Weekly

Mystical pizza

Brooklyn’s Phantom Family Halo includes some notable Louisvillians, and we caught up with one, bandleader Dom, to discuss their new album. Catch them live Friday at the New Vintage.

LEO: The Halo line-up has changed again. Why?

Dominic Cippola: The changes have really only been minor. The line-up of myself, David Lackner, Ben Lord and Christian Lee has been pretty solid for almost two years now. We have some auxiliary folks from time to time if the live set calls for it. We are bringing a couple guests with us especially for Louisville. This often helps us by adding a fresh approach to what we might be trying to do.

LEO: How hard — or easy — is it for you to conjure mystical atmospheric vibes in your music?

DC: Easy, maybe? Not sure.

LEO: For this album (Raven Town Witch), the band’s made an almost 10-minute video for one song. Do you feel it represents your vision in the same way the music does?

DC: Alice Millar and Gabriel Mueller are the excellent people behind that. Gab is Lackner’s wife, as well. They had used some music of ours in some past projects, so it was a very natural collaboration. I feel that video perfectly accompanies the uncomfortable theme present throughout the song.

LEO: You’ve toured with and/or opened for some older icons. What have you learned from them?

DC: Bodies need rest. We all need our rest.

There are also two collaboration records coming out this year: The Funeral Party with Lydia Lunch, and Straight Starlight with Kawabatta Makoto. We are trying to carve out time to record the next record with Martin Bisi in the next few months. I’m also playing drums in a project with Martin Bisi called FANGS that we hope to bring through Louisville at some point this year.

LEO: Seems like New York’s been pretty good for the Phantom Family Halo. But you miss Louisville, yes?

DC: I love New York very much; I also love Louisville very much. It’s easy to miss Louisville.

Here
c. 2014 LEO Weekly

Lady of the night: Legendary drag queen Plays in Louisville

The Lady Bunny grew up in Chattanooga, Tenn., in the ’60s and ’70s with very supportive parents. The Lady, raised as Jon Ingle, was always open about his sexuality and wore long hair. When a teacher threatened to cut it, his dad marched down to the school threatening legal action “if she touched a hair on my head.”

“It was interesting growing up as the child of the town’s lefty liberal,” Bunny says. “I didn’t always understand it and hated missing ‘The Brady Bunch’ so my dad could watch Watergate footage, but looking back, I think he taught me the right values.”

Upon graduation, Ingle moved to Atlanta — and it was burning. “It was the first big city I lived in,” he says, “and as youth will do, I went wild with booze, drugs, nightclubs, sex and colorful friends like RuPaul.” He went there to attend Georgia State, but got an education in nightclubs instead.

Moving to New York in 1984, Bunny organized the annual Wigstock festival, which helped launch her profile nationally. Today she tours, DJs, acts, writes and continues to use her personality to pay the bills. Off the road, she hosts a regular show with Bianca Del Rio, currently seen on “RuPaul’s Drag Race.” About her friend Bianca, Bunny says, “She’s obviously hilarious but also a sweet person and very talented … But if she wins, they might have to change the show’s name to ‘RuPaul’s Dog Race.’ She’ll kill me for that one!”

LEO: Why didn’t you become a judge on the original “RuPaul’s Drag Race”?
The Lady Bunny: I was never asked. There’s a bizarre Internet rumor that I turned down the offer, which isn’t true. I was asked to do (spin-off) “Drag U” and was a judge on (it) for all three years. So I certainly wouldn’t turn down a role on Ru’s more popular show!

LEO: What’s most important for a queen — the look or the personality?
TLB: I think all kinds of queens should be able to shine — there isn’t one path to success. Is Dame Edna pretty? No, but she’s incredibly funny and a huge star. A lot of “Drag Race” fans are constantly weighing in on whether the show should be based on comedy queens or prettier, more polished, pageant-looking queens. Well, get your own show and you can feature what you want on that one — don’t tell RuPaul and (producers) World of Wonder how to run their hit show because of your pre-conceived notions of what drag should be. RuPaul feels it’s his job to showcase every type of queen, from club kid to beauty. He’s from a club kid background, and I know he’s fought the network to include nuttier queens like Tammie Brown.

LEO: Can I start a new Wigstock here?
TLB: Well, there is a licensing fee involved, since it’s trademarked. So if you’d like to pay that, by all means, let’s do it. We’ve had Wigstock events in New York, San Francisco and Chicago. But we worked very hard to create that name and have to protect it. That said, there is something magical about a wig festival. In New York, we’d see dogs in wigs, body builders, straights and known queens prancing around. Wigs transform you and push your adrenaline button — and really can bring a community together!

The Lady Bunny
Friday, April 18
Play Dance Bar
1101 E. Washington St.
playdancebar.com
$TBA; 10 p.m.

Here
c. 2014 LEO Weekly

Trying to find my way home: The sun rises again for musical innovators Slint

When former Slint bassist Todd Brashear is asked what a story about his band should be called, he suggests, “Genre inventin’ ain’t easy!” The story of Slint is unlike any other, a resurrection story unique to these times and this place. It’s a story with multiple layers, where facts and myths meet, past where the river bends, past where the silo stands, past where they paint the houses.

Who — what — is Slint? That question is easier to answer today than it was a decade ago, but it’s still a long answer that might not make sense to everyone. The Slint most refer to, essentially, was four college-age guys from Louisville who spent a summer creating an album that would inspire thousands of music fans and fellow musicians … eventually. Some say they created a new genre given the open-ended and mostly nonsensical name “post-rock.” Others call it “math rock.” The appeal of Slint’s music, and their story, continues in part due to its timelessness, and its uniqueness, and how unexpected and weird the whole thing would all turn out.

Some say Louisville is a weird place. Some of its residents are crazy, they say; some are brilliant, and some have gone wild from isolation or from a lack of appreciation. One of these people is filmmaker Lance Bangs. As a college student in Athens, Ga., in the early 1990s, he earned a chance to work for R.E.M.’s Michael Stipe, who had started a film production company. Bangs was also in a band at that time. While at an all-ages venue in Asheville, N.C., in 1991, Bangs heard Slint’s recently released album Spiderland. He fell in love — not only with the music and the atmosphere it created, but also with the mystery the band had formed through the design of the album itself.

Bangs began traveling to Louisville with his cameras, befriending and filming musicians like Jon Cook, the colorful Crain leader and scene catalyst, and attending as many parties and live shows as he could. Bangs would ask his new friends about this mysterious band that had broken up before their album could make its mark: Who were these guys? What were they like? Did they still make music? He heard rumors: that one or more of them had gone crazy, that they had magical powers — stuff like that. But he was still living in Athens, and then moved to Portland, Ore., and spent a lot of time on the road, working on films and videos for everyone from Kanye West and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs to Odd Future and Pavement, as well as stand-up comedy films and the TV series “Jackass.” He was a kid from the underground who began popping up all over modern culture, though most of it was more commercially appealing and found mainstream success: The Black Keys, Arcade Fire, The Shins (Bangs paid tribute to Slint and a related band, Squirrel Bait, in the Shins’ 2001 video “New Slang”). But if any band changed Lance Bangs’ life, it was Slint.

“Breadcrumb Trail” is the name of Bangs’ new film. The 90-minute documentary, which Bangs will show Monday night at Headliners (he’s also showing other films at the NuLu arts space Dreamland on Sunday night), is the most definitive account we will get of Slint, and probably of the 1980s Louisville underground music scene that gave birth to it. Over eight years, Bangs interviewed band members, notable local colleagues and some esteemed peers (including Dischord Records’ Ian MacKaye, LCD Soundsystem’s James Murphy and David Yow of the Jesus Lizard). Two of the people interviewed for the film, Cook and Jason Noble, have since passed away.

Arriving now, 23 years after Spiderland, Brashear says it was planned for a 2011 release to mark the album’s 20th anniversary, “but it just took longer.” A book about the album for the popular 33 1/3 series, written by Scott Tennent, was released at that time; Bangs’ film is now available as part of a box set that includes a remastered Spiderland; a bonus album of outtakes, demos and live recordings from that time; and a 106-page coffee-table book, which includes photos of the band, fliers and other memorabilia and an introduction by Will Oldham, the Louisville musician who took the album’s iconic cover photo.

Baby Hardcores
The first 20 minutes of the film takes viewers on a tour of the world Slint’s members — vocalist/guitarist Brian McMahan, drummer/vocalist Britt Walford, guitarist David Pajo, original bassist Ethan Buckler and his successor, Todd Brashear — came up in. Even those who don’t like punk or indie rock would have a hard time not smiling at photos of middle-school best friends McMahan and Walford, known then as “baby hardcores” for their precocious love of the loudest, most abrasive music available. Imagine if Tom Sawyer, Huck Finn and some of their friends had a band; now imagine those guys being even weirder than Mark Twain himself could conjure.

The boys, Brown School students with notably supportive parents (Mr. and Mrs. Walford appear happily in the film, and LEO’s interview with band members was briefly interrupted when Mr. Walford and his friends showed up at the same location, looking for lunch; Britt, a laconic interviewee, fell into conversation with the older men for several minutes), started their first band, Languid and Flaccid, in sixth grade.

They soon started another band, Maurice, which they hoped would be even more aggressive. In the documentary, fellow local musician Brett Eugene Ralph describes Maurice as “like Slint, but fast. It was unbelievable.” While in high school, the band would get to go on tour opening for Glenn Danzig’s band Samhain, an adventure documented gleefully in the film.

Walford briefly played drums in Squirrel Bait, who in 1985 became the first Louisville band to achieve some modicum of success through touring and releasing albums nationwide, earning fans and making contacts outside of town (but only after Walford left). Walford, already a noted drummer, also began learning how to play guitar, though he wouldn’t display his skills until Slint dropped Spiderland on the world. McMahan quit Maurice and joined Squirrel Bait; Pajo, the kind of 15-year-old who practiced his guitar for hours each day, replaced him. Pajo’s technical skill, coupled with a love of heavy metal, further pushed Maurice away from the conventions of the hardcore music scene.

Wanting to get back to a more conventional sound, Maurice bassist Mike Bucayu started a second band, Solution Unknown. That band would soon include Brashear. As Maurice fell apart, Pajo and Walford stayed together, drafting Buckler as the bassist in the new band they were calling Small Dirty Tight Tufts of Hair: BEADS (told you they were weird). Buckler was looking to start something fresh, something unusual. Pajo says, “I told him Britt wanted the same thing … maybe they should meet.” Adding to their unusual ideas, the band’s first gig was during a Sunday service at Buckler’s familiy’s Unitarian church on Brownsboro Road. McMahan was in the crowd that day. He soon joined the band, which changed its name to Slint (Walford says the source of the name was his fish).

The Breathing Process
One of the fans and friends Squirrel Bait had made was Chicago musician and budding recording engineer Steve Albini. Slint hired him to work on their first record, Tweez, in 1987. Albini’s production choices would lead to Buckler’s frustrated departure from Slint, though the former wasn’t completely to blame for the goofy teen-boy audio tricks heard throughout the record. At its beginning, the band kept in a recording of McMahan complaining to Albini about the quality of his headphones in the recording studio; what would become a hip-hop cliché in years to come was accidentally created by Slint being goofy.

Other phantom voices are heard; someone is heard drinking, or laughing; odd breaking-glass-like sounds can be heard under the surface (one of the coffee-table book’s most surprising photos shows the high school student band members with minimalist New York composer Philip Glass, who appears to be signing autographs). The song titles, such as “Ron,” “Warren” and fan favorite “Carol,” came from the band’s parents and pets. While the nine pieces on Tweez are undeniably songs, they are off-kilter, some still ahead of their time today; some suffer from Albini’s heavy processing technique at the time (it was the ’80s, even for the best of them). McMahan debuts his spoken-word (or, at times, shouted-word) approach to vocalizing in-between proggy instrumentals. The documentary spends time detailing the fabled existence of what’s known as “The Anal Breathing Cassette,” which may or may not have wound up on Tweez.

They were mischievous boys who shared many in-jokes; outsiders soon realized that a unique language was being spoken around them. Walford, especially, seemed to lack inhibition, a drummer who really did march to the beat of his own drum. McMahan, the “responsible” one of the pair, says, “I needed that” in his life.

Between 1987 and 1990, “a lot happened in those three years,” McMahan says. He and Walford went to college at Northwestern in Chicago, where Squirrel Bait’s Clark Johnson was also enrolled. Quiet McMahan and manic Walford continued to stand out; Walford, who in many ways is the star of “Breadcrumb Trail,” is described variously as unique, crazy and a genius, especially during this period. David Yow acknowledges how Walford influenced the Jesus Lizard song “Mouth Breather.” Now, Walford says, watching others describe him like that “… feels pretty weird, actually. It seems like … not really who I am.”

McMahan says that depiction is not so clear-cut. “It would be hard for me (to describe Walford),” says McMahan. “I think, also, it would be different at different points in time. Like most people — if you know someone for 30 years, it becomes less and less easy … but definitely ‘super-creative.’”

Brashear joined in 1988; Slint had one brief recording session in 1989. In the summer of 1990, the band came back together again in the Walford family house’s basement, an environment Pajo says was “super tolerant,” with Walford’s parents being “cool about all the weird stuff going on down there.” Five days a week, all day, Walford, McMahan, Brashear and Pajo practiced the same six songs over and over again.

“Breadcrumb Trail,” which McMahan calls a “loss of innocence” song, leads off the album they would make of those songs. Looking for a simpler, purer sound than Albini achieved, they hired engineer Brian Paulson, whom McMahan knew, and went to River North Recorders in Chicago in August of 1990. It took four days to make their second record, Spiderland.

Sublime and Strange
None of the Spiderland songs were under five minutes. McMahan’s vocal technique — for the most part, reciting a short story while the band played alongside him, stories about fortune tellers, storm-battered ships and love — was not only not “rock,” but still stands as a fairly unique approach in modern music making. The band’s sense of dynamics — going from soft to loud and back again — would end up paying off better for Nirvana, whose breakthrough album was released six months later.

The combined effect of their innovations gave their songs an epic, cinematic effect that likely compelled some to call it “post-rock.” The band members say they still don’t understand what the term is supposed to mean. Whatever you call it, it was a big leap forward for the band, a more adult and complex vision of the world. Aside from a rave review written by Albini for England’s Melody Maker music newspaper — a review that would, eventually, help spread the word about Slint — the album went unnoticed by the vast majority of the world. And by the time Spiderland was released on March 27, 1991, the band had broken up.

“Spiderland is a majestic album, sublime and strange, made more brilliant by its simplicity and quiet grace. Songs evolve and expand from simple statements that are inverted and truncated in a manner that seems spontaneous, but is so precise and emphatic that it must be intuitive or orchestrated or both … Spiderland is flawless. The dry, unembellished recording is so revealing it sometimes feels like eavesdropping. The crystalline guitar of Brian McMahan and the glassy, fluid guitar of David Pajo seem to hover in space directly past the listener’s nose. The incredibly precise-yet-instinctive drumming has the same range and wallop it would in your living room … Ten fucking stars.”
— Steve Albini, excerpts from his Melody Maker review

Interested and Vocal
Slint played less than 30 shows in their day. The cumulative audience who saw them live then probably totals fewer than 1,000. Albini’s review helped listeners begin to catch up to Slint. Fans scrutinized the album’s liner notes for details — publishing the Walford family address in the Highlands as theirs (though slightly misspelled) would lead to two decades of fan mail and unannounced visits. Characteristically, Mr. and Mrs. Walford seem delighted by the response. McMahan was uncomfortable with his lead-vocal duties, so the band encouraged “interested female vocalists” to reach out. “We thought our music would sound really good with a female vocalist,” he says. Plus, “I felt like we were making very dude-centric music,” and his tastes had shifted to more female-driven acts like Julee Cruise, Sally Timms and My Bloody Valentine. One interested female vocalist, the band confirms, was Polly Jean Harvey of Dorset, England. While her letter did not receive a response from the band, she nonetheless started her own band, PJ Harvey, within a year, and has done quite well even though she never got to sing with Slint.

In those final pre-Internet days, fans could only learn more about the band if they knew the quartet, or knew or met someone else who knew of them — easy enough in Louisville or Chicago, but the band now had many new fans rising up all over the world. When a two-song single was released in 1994, with even less information attached, it was like a ship in a bottle. Fans didn’t know then that those songs had been recorded at the 1989 session. Fans also didn’t know then that Slint had tried to reform in 1994, and in 1992, but the timing wasn’t right, for whatever reasons the band today claims not to remember.

Interest continued to grow in Slint as time passed. Spiderland’s best song, closer “Good Morning, Captain,” was used in the 1995 movie “Kids,” and its soundtrack became popular and influential. Sales of Spiderland became good enough each year that McMahan says he didn’t need to find a job, and it freed him to travel. He started a new band, The For Carnation, which sounded close enough to a next-gen version of Slint to satisfy some. (The For Carnation’s 2000 self-titled album inspired, among others, the Louisville band King’s Daughters & Sons; Walford plays drums on one song on the album.) Brashear used his earnings to help start his Highlands video store, Wild and Woolly, which is now 17 years old. Pajo went on to play solo and with a variety of bands, including Tortoise, Stereolab and Zwan.

After playing with the band Evergreen in the mid-’90s, Walford’s musical output stalled. He worked construction and in restaurants. The documentary asks the cliffhanger question, “Will he ever return to songwriting?” But that has been answered already; his new band, Watter, with multi-instrumentalists Zak Riles and Tyler Trotter, will release their first album on May 27. Their label, Temporary Residence, calls it “monolithic mood music.” They are promoting it, in part, as Walford’s “opportunity to play a substantial role in a new active band for the first time in nearly 20 years.”

Oh, and there’s one big thing the documentary forgets to mention: Slint reunited in 2005, touring around the world and playing to thousands of ecstatic fans (minus Brashear, who has a family, in addition to his business; Chicago musician Matt Jencik now tours with the band). They did it again in 2007 and say they will keep it up as long as people are interested, though McMahan laughs as he says, “Sometimes I feel like I’m playing in a Slint cover band.” Bangs began filming the band in 2005, thinking it would be for a live DVD. Over the years, the scope of his film expanded. Slint did the work they’re known for when they were still in school, but part of what made their reformation so potent was how they were able to make their music sound even more powerful 15 and 20 years later, having grown and matured as musicians during that time. While reunions can be hit-or-miss, none of the others — from the Pixies to Led Zeppelin — have seen their members go from boys to men in the process.

Slint plays Nelligan Hall in Portland on Tuesday, April 15, at 7 p.m., and the Forecastle Festival on July 19.

“Slint was a part of a mass of events that centered around the Louisville punk rock scene, around the independent/underground record scene of the 1980s, around the personal lives of the makers of this music, and very little of this is accessible to the world outside, or the world moved on. So the reception of Spiderland is a confusion of entitlement, justification and misinterpretation for some of us. There is nobody to help anybody understand what has happened.”
— Will Oldham, from his book introduction

Photo by Marty Pearl

Here
c. 2014 LEO Weekly

Revolution Louisville-style now!

The Louisville Outskirts Festival is currently being planned for this fall. The fest will celebrate musical acts that include women, from solo artists to multi-piece bands that include at least one member who is female. It is a not-for-profit, volunteer-run operation, which means they need money to bring in acts from outside Louisville (though the fest will also feature many local acts, as well) and pay for other expenses — promotion, officially endorsed permits, paperwork and much more.

The weekend-in-progress will also go beyond music, making educational outreach and other community-based programs part of their mission. Ultimately, their goal is, in their words, “to encourage, support, inspire and highlight the music made by women and female-identified members of Louisville’s independent music scene as well as showcase influential and inspiring musicians selected from other parts of the country and world.”

To raise some of the necessary funds, the fest — thought up and being run by half of Julie of the Wolves, guitarists/vocalists Stephanie Gary and Carrie Neumayer (the latter is also a LEO columnist) — is throwing a party that should help give locals a sense of what to expect this fall. After opening sets by the Debauchees, a band that includes two women and a man, and the Wolves, four women, headlining attraction Screaming Females will make hairs stand up all over everyone’s bodies. The decade-old New Jersey-based rock trio (one woman, two men) released their Live at the Hideout album yesterday. Having recently survived a van accident while on the road, LEO wanted to check in and see how they are doing now.

LEO: After triumphing over death and delivering a definitive live document of the band at the top of its game, what do you do to follow that up?

Jarrett Dougherty (drums): I don’t think we are really thinking about it that way. We always want to be working on and releasing different projects. It is exciting to be releasing this record because we have been talking about it for so long. It is still fresh. We are already headed into the studio to work on a new album that should be out in the fall. It is going to be a big year for Screaming Females. I hope everyone has been saving their pennies.

LEO: I invested poorly, and only have enough money for one record this year. Should I buy Screaming Females or (side project) Bad Canoes?

Marissa Paternoster (guitar/vocals): The Bad Canoes tape is $5. How poorly did you invest your money?

JD: You should buy our records, because I play on them.

LEO: You’re touring with The Julie Ruin — is that a dream come true? Do you see (frontwoman) Kathleen Hanna as an idol or as a peer?

MP: I view Kathleen Hanna as a stellar human being whom I deeply admire, who was in a bunch of bands (Bikini Kill, Le Tigre) that meant a lot to me and continue to mean a lot to me.

LEO: Chris Christie — what’s up with that guy?

MP: He’s an idiot.

JD: He’s a politician. Clearly he is a terrible person.

LEO: Your show here in Louisville is to benefit the Louisville Outskirts Festival, a new festival promoting female-centric bands. How do you feel about there needing to be such a festival now, 40 years after women started achieving something like equality in this country? Sorry to have to ask the “woman in rock” question, but the context demands it this time.

MP: Until being a woman who happens to play music professionally (or otherwise) becomes less of an oddity and doesn’t create chaos within the minds of everyday folks, I suppose music festivals of this nature are somewhat of a necessity to show the general population that not only are women often in bands, but they are often quite good at what they do.

LEO: Follow-up question for just Jarrett and (bassist King) Mike — what’s it like to be a guy in a rock band? Does Marissa have to play all your parts in the studio for you?

JD: There are no stupid questions, except that one.

Screaming Females with Julie of the Wolves and The Debauchees
Thursday, April 10
The New Vintage
2126 S. Preston St.
newvintagelouisville.com
$10; 9 p.m.

Photo by Christopher Patrick Ernst

Here
C. 2014 LEO Weekly

Okkervil River: Austin, cities and limits

“You’re not the first to ask me this question, like, ‘Are you trying to grab for some brass ring?’ or ‘trying to be more respectable?’” says Okkervil River frontman Will Sheff. “The truth is, the record was finished before we signed with ATO. It was a pretty organic process.”

ATO is the RCA-affiliated label started by Dave Matthews. For most of their decade-plus career, Okkervil River’s records have been released by the Bloomington, Ind., label Jagjaguwar. The band’s latest record, The Silver Gymnasium, is a concept album inspired by Sheff’s memories of growing up in the 1980s.

The setting finds the band adding more mainstream instrumentation, including synthesizers and an unironic saxophone. The album has a more lush sound than 2011’s I Am Very Far, which Sheff calls “confrontationally big and spiky and angry … I kind of designed it to push people away.” He was ready to do something different this time.

“I had this idea to write about childhood, and it was a really important idea to me, and a really interesting idea to me, so I didn’t rush into doing it,” Sheff says, clarifying that he initially had the idea several years ago. “I was working on it in the back of my brain, and it was … just time.”

The question about reaching for a more mainstream crowd also tied in to the fact that, on the day of our interview, Okkervil River was playing at the North Carolina club Cat’s Cradle, for the “I don’t know — fifth time? Sixth time?” Sheff says. Their Louisville show finds them breaking newer ground, as the first to play Louisville’s newest club, the Mercury Ballroom. The band wasn’t picked intentionally for the opening, and Sheff wasn’t aware of the significance of this date until our interview — but it is something new for a band that’s now a veteran act, yet still not a mainstream entity.

Sheff, 37, has lived in Austin, Texas, for almost 15 years now, and remembers when its SXSW music festival was smaller. A question about the fest provoked an epic rant:

“I hate it. I think it’s horrible. I think it’s a cancer on rock ’n’ roll. I think it’s deeply, deeply evil … Once upon a time, it was good. Once upon a time, it was this wonderful way to get exposure for these little bands that were really special; it was also very embracing of the Austin community. Any Austinite who had $5 in his pocket could go out to a local club and see five really cool bands you wouldn’t have known about otherwise. Now it’s this whole corporate gangbang where that same little band SXSW was created to help — they pool all their money, they try to travel down there, they have to buy plane tickets or rent a van, and it costs $4,000, and the festival gives them no money at all. Then they put them on Wednesday night at some weird non-venue, and nobody comes, and the people who come are just staring at the goddamn telephones, or drunk on free booze from some fucking corporation.

“Then you have the megastars, like the Lady Gagas of the world, who turn it into this staging where they try to keep their own megabrand current, and every fucking corporation — they’re all trying to get their piece of it. And there’s a very small group of very wealthy people in Austin who are just raking in so much fucking money, and the way they’re raking in money is by pimping out the spirit of Austin to all these fucking out-of-towners who feed their egos: ‘Oh, I love Austin! Have you had the migas at this place?’ It’s disgusting. It’s everything I think is bad about the music business.”

He laughs and apologizes for venting, but the depths of his feelings about his work have been revealed. In a follow-up question about The Silver Gymnasium, Sheff discussed why he doesn’t have children.

“I don’t know if it’s feasible for an artist like myself to have kids. I have a really low overhead, and that’s part of the reason why I’m able to do as much work as I do. My most important thing is my work.

“The world doesn’t need more of them, anyway. There’s a fuck-ton of them,” he laughs. “I think we need to work on making fewer people who are better.”

Okkervil River with Hundred Visions
Friday, April 4
Mercury Ballroom
611 S. Fourth St.
mercuryballroom.com
$25; 8 p.m.

photo by Alexandra Valenti

Here
c. 2014 LEO Weekly

Riding out tonight to case the Promised Land: Poet finds inspiration on Thunder Road

Confession:
I did not love Bruce Springsteen until
I turned thirty and set my own home on fire,

walked away from the ashes and looked
my declining self in the face. Like love,

Bruce is wasted on the young.

— Erin Keane, “The Dream and What Follows”

Erin Keane loves a project. The WFPL arts reporter knows how to tell the stories of others, but that’s not what her three books have been about. “Demolition of the Promised Land,” her latest, is her newest collection of poems (some, but not all, of which feature Bruce Springsteen). Like Springsteen’s most recent album, it’s a new release, but not her most recent writing.

“I started writing this after my second book was written, before my first book was published,” Keane says. “And I don’t have another one waiting — this is it.”

Her first, “The Gravity Soundtrack,” was published in 2007; her second, “Death-Defying Acts” (about life in a circus), hit stores in 2010. The new book took so long because “it didn’t really have a coherent theme for a very long time. It didn’t have anything to tie it together,” she says. “When the Bruce Springsteen poems started happening ... that started to really shape how the book was going to come together.”

That was in 2011. She had begun working on the other poems in 2007 with a Lent-inspired daily writing exercise. “I had finished this other project, the circus book, and I wanted to get back to writing in my own voice. I didn’t really know what that was at that point — I’d spent a couple years writing in the voices of these other characters.”

She wrote around 40; of those, maybe 10 made it, she says. “They were the ones worth sticking with.” Over the last few years, the rest started to take shape. “I’m slow, because I work a lot,” she laughs. “This book was a mess, a total mess, when my editor (Lindsey Alexander) got her hands on it. It was really an intense collaborative process.”

The most important way her editor helped was by challenging Keane to clarify who was speaking — or being spoken to. She pushed Keane away from “using the second person instead of the first person: ‘You do this’ and ‘you do that,’ which you think is a way of generalizing your poem,” says Keane. Writing in persona, as she did for her circus tale, “You’re either a fictional character or fictionalizing a real character. It’s still the way you dream that this character would interact, which has some percentage of me, the writer.”

The edits gave her poems “a strong sense of authority,” she says. “Except for the Bruce Springsteen poems — well, some of them are weirdly autobiographical, also. The poem ‘Decomposition Studies’ is about my mom.”


“The Springsteen poems were never going to be in the voice of Bruce Springsteen, because I find that to be the most presumptuous thing,” she laughs. “So instead, it’s my narrative voice that’s moving him around in fictionalized situations … like a superhero or an action figure. It’s all my version of the truth. This is a very personal book, and that’s entirely frightening to put out there.”

Erin Keane
Wednesday, April 9
Carmichael’s Bookstore

2720 Frankfort Ave.
carmichaelsbookstore.com
Free; 7 p.m.

photo by Drew Zipp

Here
c. 2014 LEO Weekly

Joan Rivers — Comedy’s all-time good time gal

Joan Rivers needs no introduction. Our interview took place in mid-February, in the midst of Hollywood’s award season. She didn’t give up any inside gossip — especially the fact that, after being banned from “The Tonight Show” since 1986, she would return for Jimmy Fallon’s first night, one week later. We were just happy that she was warm, friendly and funny.

Joan Rivers: I love Louisville.
LEO: What do you love about Louisville?
JR: I love Louisville because my first college crush was in Louisville. He’s probably dead by now, but at the time, he was very, very cute.

LEO: Have you been dating lately?
JR: No, I closed the hotel about three years ago … I lived with a man for nine years, and he died. You reach a point that you go, “OK, that’s it, I’m really not interested.” If you say to somebody, “Tell me about yourself,” you’ll be dead before they even get to college.

LEO: So, who are you wearing?
JR: I’m always wearing — even though I hate them — Chanel shoes. They’re the most comfortable shoes in the world. Around the house, I wear very much what I wear on “Fashion Police,” but just simpler.

LEO: Do you shop for yourself or use a stylist?
JR: I love to shop for myself. I never get a chance to do it … I buy a lot when I buy. But I have a stylist that brings the things I wear on “Fashion Police,” and it’s usually pretty well sorted out. He’s been doing it for 15 years, so I trust him totally. And he doesn’t laugh when you get undressed.

LEO: What if you’re telling a joke at the time?
JR: Oh, that’s very funny.

LEO: Jennifer Lawrence is from Louisville — everybody loves her everywhere except you. Why is that?
JR: No, no, no, I think — let’s start from the beginning. Jennifer Lawrence is a terrific actress. I saw her in “Winter’s Bone” — we’re not discussing acting. We are discussing that when we said she looked good on “Fashion Police,” she said she loved “Fashion Police.” And the minute we dared to say we didn’t like one of her dresses, she began to knock us and tell us how terrible we were. So that’s why I’m not a fan of Jennifer Lawrence, even though I’m a tremendous fan — I think she has amazing talent.

LEO: Jay Leno has finally left, Jimmy Fallon’s coming in next week — how do you feel about that transition?
JR: I think Jimmy Fallon is so smart and so good. I think he’s going to be amazing, and he represents a whole different generation, and I think you need that. I never found Leno funny. I found him very, very goyish. And I truly never watched the show. I would either watch Letterman or Kimmel. So, for me, that he’s left — I didn’t know he was there.

LEO: How much material do you get from other people? How much do you come up with on your own these days?
JR: The majority is my own because it just has to be. It’s truly how you look at things. But especially “Fashion Police,” you cannot … you’ve got to have other people and other eyes looking with you. “Fashion Police,” I would certainly say 60 percent is me, 40 percent is them. But the act is certainly 80 percent, 90 percent me. But if you’ve got a good joke and you said it to me, I’ll say, “Thank you, god!” I’m going to use it.

LEO: Have you found any other controversial topics lately that have inspired you?
JR: Thank god for Woody Allen! You wait for these things; otherwise, what is there to talk about? Nothing.

LEO: What happens when it’s somebody who’s actually a close friend of yours?
JR: When somebody is a really close friend, you try to keep it out of the act. But, again, the act comes first for me. If somebody is paying to see me, my allegiance is always to my audience … They made plans, they bought tickets, they hired a babysitter, or they cut classes. Nobody has come not to like it, not to have a good time, and so I always make sure they have a good time.

Joan Rivers
Friday, March 21
Brown Theatre
315 W. Broadway
kentuckycenter.org
$35; 8 p.m.

Here
c. 2014 LEO Weekly

Spreading the Gospel: From South Africa to the Oscars to Louisville

On another sadly cold day in early March, Shimmy Jiyane is in Fayettville, Arkansas. The tenor singer is the choir director of the Soweto Gospel Choir, and the group is in the midst of their fifth North American tour since forming in late 2002. “I’m getting used to it,” he says in his melodic accent, about the below-freezing temperatures. Back home, it usually only gets cold in June and July — “but not like here! Here, it’s crazy,” he laughs.

The group initially formed for a tribute concert held in honor of Nelson Mandela. “He is the man who inspired the choir,” Jiyane says, “so I would definitely say Nelson Mandela kept us going. He taught us to be humble and to forgive and — not to forget, but to be humble.” After shaking the revolutionary leader’s hand, Jiyane says, “I never washed it for, like, five days.”

The Soweto Gospel Choir live show is made up of dozens of singers, musicians and dancers. He says the choir itself has two-dozen members now. “You have to audition first. You stand in a queue, then go in there and give us a good voice, give us some character, be a good dancer — if you’re a good dancer.”

Most stay on full time. Occasionally, every couple years or so, they audition 200 more and pick replacements. “When you’re in the show, you’re here forever,” he laughs. “The people who love the choir love the choir.”

Jiyane doesn’t dismiss a suggestion that “Gospel Choir Idol” might be an idea for a TV program. “I’d get to be a judge! That’s fantastic, yeah.” He says he wouldn’t be a mean judge, but “sometimes people come with high expectations and can be disappointed. It really takes guts. Some are bad, some are the worst, some are good.”

“You’ve got to have heart to be an artist,” he continues. “You’ve got to have patience to be an artist. It’s about the craft that you do … it’s about you, who you are, how you express yourself.”

He describes their show this way: “We’re going to be on stage, and it’s going to be fireworks. It is a high-energy show … People can expect beautiful, beautiful South African music.”

The current tour promotes their recent live album, Divine Decade: Celebrating 10 Years. The set includes performances with Ladysmith Black Mambazo, Robert Plant and U2, and an introduction by Archbishop Desmond Tutu. Their first decade has been amazing in many ways — the choir has performed at parties for former President Clinton and Oprah Winfrey, and backed up Peter Gabriel on his Oscar-nominated song from “Wall-E.” They have sung with everyone from Jimmy Cliff to Josh Groban, and toured with Celine Dion and, even more oddly, through Germany with the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

“It’s a very beautiful album,” Jiyane says, sounding more appreciative than boastful. “We did feature many artists from South Africa, from Africa also, from the States, playing. A very nice mixture on the album. We’re celebrating our 10th anniversary in the choir. Celebrating our success, sharing our recordings with our friends on an album — including everything, (the sounds of) our fans and our choir.”

Though they have traveled around the world and made many friends, Jiyane says they are always glad to get on the computers in their bus and Skype with family and friends back home. They come to places like this “… to be here for our fans, to be here for the people.” Though it must be tough to keep track of dozens of people, he says they get time in each city to get out and explore. On stage, they don’t notice when they’re tired because they’re having so much fun. He stays fit “by playing good music!”

So, what’s next for Jiyane and his many friends? “The choir. We’re just looking at doing more music for the people.”

They have won two Grammy awards and been nominated for others. One goal remaining, says Jiyane: “We already performed at the Oscars, so we want to perform at the Grammys. We want people to see our work.”

But mostly, “We want people to get up and dance. We want to see people happy.”

The Soweto Gospel Choir
Sunday, March 16
Brown Theatre
315 W. Broadway
kentuckycenter.org
$15; 7 p.m.

photo by Brett Schewitz

Here
c. 2014 LEO Weekly

Her mind is not for rent

Sweatermeat is a performance art pop band whose first album, Bad Boobs, is out this month. They play at the Rudyard Kipling Thursday (just don’t tell them they sound like the B-52s). Here are excerpts from a lively conversation.

Yoko Molotov: I started making these weird recordings in the kitchen of my house with my best friend, John. They’re kind of weird, ’cause we just used this broken organ we got at a thrift store and a ukulele. So they all sound kind of depraved. I was, like, “I want to print these and implant them in music stores around Louisville,” ’cause I couldn’t foresee anyone really wanting to listen to this. We didn’t end up doing that, but we kept making these songs and giving them away. Then I learned how to play a real instrument. One day, I woke up and I had a drummer (laughs). … Did you listen to it?

LEO: Of course.

YM: Did you have to go to a doctor?

LEO: Actually, I hear echoes of stuff like The Cramps or the B-52s —

YM: You know what? That is one of our most loathed bands! Them and Rush. They make noises that make me feel like I’m going to get pulled down to hell. When someone says that to me, it doesn’t make me mad — I’m just happy they listened to it. But, man, somebody’s laughing somewhere.

LEO: You play shows for people who usually enjoy what you do. Have you tried to go to the suburbs and assault a crowd?

YM: Yes! Actually, we played Phoenix Hill. My favorite part of that was seeing these old men, these dads that were there — I heard them go, “We paid $10 for this?” The band tried to play on a table. They haven’t asked us back. I don’t know why (laughs).

LEO: The name of the band and the record — do you just like boobs, or is it a comment on American consumerism and using sexuality to sell products?

YM: (pause) I love you, because you’re so smart. No, we’re just really childish.

Here
c. 2014 LEO Weekly

Work hard, play hard: Arcade Fire puts together their world tour in Louisville

Being a member of Arcade Fire has its perks. When LEO spoke with multi-instrumentalists Will Butler and Richard Reed Parry recently, it was in a week that also included their performance on the new “Tonight Show” and another trip to play at Carnival in Jacmel, Haiti. Oh, and they had just been nominated for an Oscar for scoring the movie “Her.”

It’s all leading up to their latest tour, kicking off Thursday in Louisville, in support of their latest No. 1 album, Reflektor. “Yeah, it’s feeling pretty good,” Butler says. “It’s the start of the tour, so we’re feeling really excited to play the music live, and we’re still really excited to be meeting people and doing stuff.”

It’s been a “very natural” progression for the decade-old band, he says. “You notice it at the start of each record campaign a little more. With time off, you’re just in your artistic zone and you’re making the art. Then you come out of that and people are buying your record and talking about your record, and you’re going places. For that first couple months, it fries your brain. Then, it makes sense again, and you get back in the rhythm of it.”

The Canadian band famously confused mainstream listeners by winning the Best Album Grammy in 2011, turning “Who Is Arcade Fire?” into a funny meme. Now they’re playing places where pop singers like Justin Bieber and Taylor Swift rule, like the KFC Yum! Center. “That is our favorite joke, in terms of the title (of the venue),” Parry laughs.

“Part of it is just playing in places where everyone can buy tickets,” says Butler. “For a number of years, we played smaller than we could have. Tickets sold out so fast — which is great, it ended up being really excited fans, but you wanted to give a chance to everyone to buy a ticket. So we’ve been experimenting with larger venues, just because — in a way — it’s a little more democratic.”

Parry has had a long relationship with Louisville. “I love that place. It’s super interesting and it’s a really soulful town. I’ve had a couple of really good friends in that place.” One of his friends was Jason Noble, the late musician whose work with Rachel’s was a major influence — Parry’s first album of chamber music, due out in June, is dedicated to Noble. “It was a sad loss. He was really good to me, that guy.”

The band arrived earlier this week to rehearse. Two new horn players have been added for this tour, and Parry notes, “We’re just trying to weave together the new show … incorporating new visuals and new ideas that we’re trying to figure out. We’re doing our best to make it look special, hoping you guys engage in it and not just have a boring night in the arena.”

To be an Arcade Fire member is to be closely involved with every detail of the experience, from the sounds to the visuals. This collaboration extended to the “Her” score; the band worked with director Spike Jonze from early drafts of the script to the editing room. “It blew his mind, how intense and collaborative the whole process was,” says Butler.

The sextet was also making Reflektor, their fourth full-length album, at the same time. “We’re all getting better at (collaborating), but it’s hard. Sometimes, it’s really hard to figure out when you’re being useful or when you’re just shutting someone down creatively.”

“I enjoyed working on the film,” Butler adds. “It definitely used a different set of skills from this band, which to me was refreshing and exhausting.”

The band upset some fans last fall when they asked concertgoers to consider dressing in formal attire or in a costume for their show. They have since clarified that it is not a formal request, just a suggestion. Butler feels optimistic about how the Louisville crowd will take the suggestion. “Kentuckians are a good-looking bunch. Definitely not their race-day outfits, right? I think it’ll be pretty good, I think we’ll have a pretty good showing.”

“We’re definitely people that have all seen really amazing shows in our lifetime and have been impacted by them,” Parry says. “We are just trying to do something interesting and hopefully beautiful and striking and memorable.”

Arcade Fire with Dan Deacon and Kid Koala
Thursday, March 6
KFC Yum! Center
1 Arena Plaza
kfcyumcenter.com
$30.50-$60.50; 7:30 p.m.

photo by JF Lalonde

Here
c. 2014 LEO Weekly

Full circle and full steam ahead with the Watson Twins

When sisters Chandra Watson and Leigh Watson released their third full-length album, Pioneer Lane, in September, casual fans of their folk/country-inflected group would not have realized it marked the first chapter in their new lives. But for the Louisville born-and-bred twins, it was the first album they recorded in their new home city of Nashville after 15 years in Los Angeles. This time, they literally recorded at home.

“We had been trying to come back to the South for the last several years,” Chandra says. “We just wanted to be closer to family and missed a lot of the cultural aspects of the pace and the people.”

As they tried to figure out what their next step would look like, they knew they would need more space — for living, as well as recording — and that they needed to have something else to work on in between music projects.

When their mother was looking in downtown Nashville for a wedding space a couple of years ago, she couldn’t find a venue she loved. “My mom jokingly was, like, ‘Why don’t you just buy something and make it an event space?’ We were, like, ‘Haha, you’re funny, Mom.’ And it got my wheels turning, and I thought, ‘Maybe we should do this.’”

Now the sisters and a partner run The Cordelle, an events space in Rutledge Hill, near the river. The name is “a reference to steamboat culture,” she says. “It’s a rope that’s on the front of the boat that brings it to shore and brings it through the water.” The building’s origins go back to the late 19th century. Now updated and added on to create a 5,000-square-foot space, the building hosts weddings, conferences and other events, while the sisters’ music career continues, both in their own band and singing back-up for others. While they first caught national attention singing with Jenny Lewis in Los Angeles, the sisters toured last year with Nashville’s Jesse Baylin. From Jenny to Jesse, not much has changed while everything has changed.

Chandra says they have been very happy in Nashville. “It’s in such a great spot right now. There’s so many creative people moving here from other cities and bringing these great little treasures from all these other cultures, and coming here and implementing that into what Nashville is — and it’s good because nobody is trying to change the old-school Nashville … whether it’s the honky-tonks or the sort of laid-back nature, no one’s saying, ‘Hurry up, hurry up, let’s get this thing moving’; everyone’s still embracing the culture as it is and just adding to it.

“The creative community here is really awesome, and it really has opened us up to a lot of new things, and it’s a different kind of scene here … I feel like people are more collaborative because (music) really is just part of life here (as opposed to in L.A.) … I met somebody the other day who is an event planner, and she used to manage Crystal Gayle,” Chandra laughs. “Everybody here at one point or other has done something in the music industry.”

She laughs, noting her jealousy that Louisville, too, has so much more to offer now than it did for the sisters and Chandra’s husband, multi-instrumentalist Russ Pollard, years ago. “Growing up there, the only thing we had were punk rock shows. That was the extent of our going out and our culture, which was super fun and awesome, and we met tons of great people through that — but I’m, like, ‘It’s not fair! We had to suffer through hanging out in the Valvoline parking lot …’ All these amazing things are happening and I’m, like, ‘Man, if I was a kid growing up there now, I would be so stoked!’”

WFPK Winter Wednesday with The Watson Twins and Bob Schneider
Wednesday, Feb. 19
Clifton Center
2117 Payne St.
cliftoncenter.org
Free; 7:30 p.m.

Photo by Dan Monick

Here
c. 2014 LEO Weekly

License to mature

Initially formed by Lou Barlow and Eric Gaffney in 1986, Sebadoh began as a bridge between harsher ’80s post-punk and the kinder, gentler ’90s. The group — which added Jason Loewenstein in 1989 — became an indie rock pioneer, known early on for their “lo-fi” home-recording style. Gaffney left in 1993, and the band’s momentum began to slow in the late ’90s.

After a 13-year break between recordings, Barlow, Loewenstein and drummer Bob D’Amico released a new Sebadoh EP, Secret, in 2012, followed by the full-length Defend Yourself last fall. They play Zanzabar on Thursday, Feb. 20.

Co-leader Loewenstein lived in Louisville for most of the decade between 1995 and 2005. Artist Doug Miller was his friend and colleague at ear X-tacy Records during that time.

“Sebadoh’s new album is their most mature work to date,” Miller says. “I don’t know if that is from the actual length of time that has elapsed, or the truly heartbreaking lyrics that are sad in those gloomy memories of a broken relationship but wise in the knowledge as to why it failed. Isn’t that maturity at its core? There is also a clean and vivid sound … that I think has come from the years of work and the honing of their craft that the band has done in their various side projects.”

He continues, “Songs like ‘Listen,’ as the title implies, offer the listener a space that is layered and gorgeous. The resonance of ‘Let It Out’ also is such a melodic and careful song that I can’t imagine ’90s Sebadoh making it … this record is a blaring, crooked and wild rock ’n’ roll venture with country-patina songs like ‘Inquiries’ that stand out and require repeated listens.”

“The Kentucky connection — Loewenstein — I think is more apparent in the EP; some of the grinding, country-laced songs are all, in some way, soaking in bourbon (or something stronger: see ‘My Drugs’). Songs like ‘I Don’t Mind,’ from the EP, have been danced to many times at my house.”

Photo by Bryan Zimmerman

Here
c. 2014 LEO Weekly

Respect: Lucero’s past, present and future

Older, wiser Memphis band benefits others



Lucero is so popular in Louisville, you’d be forgiven for not knowing they call Memphis home. The soul-country-rock band, currently an octet, returns Monday for what will be a packed heat wave of a winter show benefiting Big Brothers Big Sisters of Kentuckiana.

The BBBS idea came together when Lucero, about to hit the road with the Boston-based Dropkick Murphys, saw an opportunity to stop in Louisville for a show on their way up north. “It wasn’t too long ago that we’ve been in Louisville, and we usually play at Headliners up there,” says singer/guitarist Ben Nichols. “This time, we wanted to do something different, and we wanted to play some place a little smaller and more intimate.”

Once the band decided to make the show a benefit, their booker set it up with BBBS. “I’m looking forward to it,” says Nichols. “Louisville’s always a good time.”

It’s another step toward maturity for the veteran band, which has stepped up their live game in recent years with the additions of horn men Jim Spake and Scott Thompson, players whose credits range from Jerry Lee Lewis to Al Green and Cat Power. “They just know so much about Memphis musical history, and they’ve actually been a part of so much of it,” Nichols says. “Having a couple of guys like that in the band, it’s a big compliment that they’re in the band in the first place — and then just getting to hear their stories is super cool.”

In a roundabout way, their presence has also helped Nichols get healthier and start a new chapter in his own career. “Getting to play with guys that are this good, I don’t want to fuck it up,” he continues. “I’d rather play a more sober show and play better and have more fun, rather than just getting too drunk and screwing it all up. We did that for the bulk of our career, and so now I’m having fun really playing the music.” It’s still a process, he says, “but the more well behaved I am, then the more fun I have.”

Lucero has always been aware and inspired by Memphis’ insanely rich musical history, and Nichols has recently been reading “Respect Yourself,” the legendary music writer Robert Gordon’s latest love letter to that tale. “There’s plenty of history and plenty of stuff to get you excited about playing music and writing songs and being in a band,” says Nichols. “There’s plenty of Memphis history. It definitely keeps the band going and inspires us, for sure.”

Another reminder of their place in history came with the 2010 passing of former Big Star singer Alex Chilton, who had employed saxophonist Spake in his band. Members of Lucero paid tribute to Chilton at SXSW, and the older band’s documentary, “Big Star: Nothing Can Hurt Me,” was made available for home viewing so recently that Nichols had not seen it when we spoke. “I just added it to my (Netflix) list. I’ll watch it soon.”

Nichols is less certain people would want to see such a film about his band, noting that some footage was filmed in 2000 and ’05. “There’s plenty of old live footage of us out there. There’s a couple of documentaries that have been put together. We’ll see, maybe one day in the distant future there will be a more comprehensive film, but I don’t know … I don’t know if anybody would want to watch that,” he laughs. “We’ll see how the next 10 years go.”

While they work on that decade’s new songs, next is a live album, recorded last fall in Atlanta, providing a document of where the band is at today. A good intro for newcomers, it also offers longtime fans souvenirs of how some of their older songs sound now with horns and keyboards added to the arrangements. “It’s just kind of ingrained in what Lucero has become … hearing what (the newer members) bring to the old stuff has always been really fun, and they definitely do bring a new life to some of the old material.”

“It has just started to feel really natural with them,” Nichols says, “and it wasn’t something that was just kind of pasted on top of Lucero.”

Lucero
Monday, Feb. 17
Zanzabar
2100 S. Preston St.
Sold out; 8 p.m.

Here
c. 2014 LEO Weekly

Like The Sands through the hourglass

When is a supergroup not a supergroup? In the case of The Sands, it’s when the band’s members have all played in bands who are mostly famous in Bloomington, Ind., and the most famous member of the band is known, if at all, for a reason that has nothing to do with music.

Going on tour for a week now is a treat for The Sands, 30-ish guys who have more obligations than ever these days. They tried it once before but “… everyone was so busy, so (on) what was supposed to be a five-day tour, we ended up having to come home every night (across Indiana and Illinois),” says Mike Bridavsky, the band’s bassist, a recording engineer and the aforementioned most famous member.

This tour will be different, if for no other reason than they’re going farther, all the way to places like Raleigh, N.C., where guitarist/vocalist Jason Evans Groth (ex-Magnolia Electric Co., The Coke Dares) has started a new career as a librarian. It’s a long way from Bloomington, and a long way from how the band started.

"We were actually a Wipers cover band,” Bridavsky says. While that Northwestern melodic punk band has been a favorite of numerous musicians and critics through the years, it wouldn’t have been an obvious start for The Sands’ members, whose collective band identities had been harder-edged. But “we all shared a love for the Wipers, and we all thought it would be cool to form a power-pop group.”

The official reason for the tour is to promote the band’s new album, Hotel and Casino, recorded last year at the studio Bridavsky owns in Bloomington, Russian Recording (where Louisvillians such as Natives and Lucky Pineapple have also made records). The album is out this week through California’s Burger Records on cassette, vinyl through the Bloomington labels Houseplant and Let’s Pretend Records, and on CD by the Japanese label Waterslide. Despite the cross-label release, each format will be limited to 200 copies each.

“We’re not a very functional band, now that Jason’s moved,” Bridavsky acknowledges. “We only do it because we like each other’s company. We like playing music, and that’s really what we’re in it for.”

Bridavsky and drummer Josh Moore previously played together in the band Memory Map, and guitarist/singer Jeff Grant played in Pink Razors and Fat Shadow. Supergroup? “I think we’re just a group,” says Bridavsky, “a rock group of guys who are friends … I know people like Magnolia Electric Co., but aside from that, I’m not sure what bands people actually know.”

More people know Bridavsky’s cat, who was recently involved in a headline-making music story when she participated in WFPK DJ Sean Cannon’s charity-driven remake of “The Super Bowl Shuffle,” which also featured a handful of indie rockers and comedians. Bridavsky’s role came through supplying sound clips of his cat, Lil Bub, who has become an Internet celebrity, starring in a web series, a documentary, a book and, this Saturday, in her own Animal Planet special.

Cannon had interviewed Bridavsky not long ago about his odd new double life. “Especially for charity, something that’s fun and cool like that, we’re always happy to do it,” the musician and cat dad says. “I just have a collection of Bub sounds we use all the time for our shows, and I was, like, ‘Oh yeah, I can send you that if you want.’ I was really pleased with how it came out. I thought it was pretty funny.”

Bridavsky has mostly tried to keep Bub’s business separate from his normal music world, but, “At this point, I don’t think it’s possible anymore,” he says. “It’s fine, you know, people just yell my cat’s name all the time. Honestly, I just mostly feel bad for my bandmates … it’s my cat that’s famous. I’m just famous by association.”

Tours like this provide an opportunity for the members of The Sands to get away from everything else, spending time together as friends and making music — “fart a lot, make some jokes, get drunk, play the show,” he clarifies. “I don’t think anyone’s trying to make money or become famous or anything,” Bridavsky says. “Yeah, I think we all treat it like it’s some vacation.”

The Sands with Natives and Mote
Sunday, Feb. 9
The New Vintage
2126 S. Preston St.
newvintagelouisville.com
$5; 9 p.m.

Here
c. 2014 LEO Weekly

Berea Is For Lovers

One of the most prolific contributors to the local music scene hasn’t even been local lately, but he’s still pumping out product like he never left. John King’s resume is varied and unique — he has created and produced visual art and music, curated the long-running record series (and label) Louisville is for Lovers, and co-founded the Louisville Zombie Attack.

Now 36, King is a student at Berea College and working in their Sound Archives program. This month, King’s long-running hip-hop project Team Totoro is officially releasing a new album, Laser Beats, filled with 19 tracks of old school (or “tru skool,” in their parlance) fun. But that’s as close as he’s getting to a Valentine’s-related project this year.

“After putting out three records in under two months, I’m taking a break,” he says. His other band, The Gallery Singers, released a new EP in November, one King worked on while also assembling a full-length local tribute to Will Oldham.

“It’s funny,” says King, “Valentine’s Day was the biggest part of my life for over a third of my life, and now the past couple years, I have a bit of empty nest syndrome — and some guilt — every time February rolls around.”

He laughs as he acknowledges that he has become known as “The VD guy” to some for his Valentine’s Day-themed projects. It started in 1999 at Sparks, the nightclub he started working at the week he graduated from high school. “I might have hidden my true age a little bit,” he says. “I really miss Steve Ann Irwin, the owner of Sparks. He was like a father to me. He always had faith in me; whatever ideas I had, he always let me run with it.”

King has been talking to a few people about possible projects, but his current focus is on graduating early. “Louisville is my home. This is the longest I have lived away, and as much as Berea College has given me, I can’t wait to get back and start more projects!”

Here
Find more projects at louisvilleisforlovers.com.

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