UPDATE: We’ve just been informed that this show is cancelled due to poor weather conditions in NOLA. Enjoy the vids anyway!
The Nashville-based rock ‘n’ roll band began their current tour last night in Baton Rouge and hit the hot new Freret Street club tonight.
This will be their first visit to New Orleans since the departure of founding bassist Kelley Anderson. They are touring in support of their latest album, Blur the Line. Roger Moutenot, who is known his work with indie legends Yo La Tengo and John Cale produced this collection.
Other writers and the group’s press materials have called the band’s sound a mix between Patti Smith, Neil Young, and Tusk-era Fleetwood Mac. But to these ears, the new album’s sound takes a lot from 1960s girl-group harmonies and even has elements of songs from the Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Retail data in albums sales show the vinyl format is growing steadily year over year. According to Billboard.com, LP sales only made up two percent of all album sales. But if you lend your ear to the market, you’ll see two key relationships: 1) the US audiophile is undergoing a mass breakup with the CD, and 2) digital downloads aren’t proven to cannibalize vinyl record sales.
And the key segment that helps drive vinyl record sales is the 20-somethings, the so-called Millennials. Last year showed and proved that a renaissance in an “old” format carries its own weight within the music industry. Though vinyl sales accounted for only two percent of total album sales in the United States in 2013, the format leaped 32 percent in sales over the previous year.
Now about these 20-somethings and the vinyl boom. Though sales by age range aren’t available, a record store vendor might assure you high consumption by college-age students is more than likely. In an article published by the Kansas City Star, the uptick in demand for LPs these past few years is the first in a quarter-century.
The popularity might be (wrongfully) assessed as due to the new wave of “hipster” fixation with vintage trends (such as clothing, integral to my “hipster” generation.) But when a major retailer like Whole Foods Market, for example, begins retrofitting its image as an LP dealer (in five stores last summer, initially), it’s worth a second look to see the buying behaviors within the small but significant share.
While she continues to be relatively unknown in the West, over the last decade the profile of Turkey’s protest-songstress Selda Bağcan has steadily grown with the increase in diligent listenership for recovered global treasures. Back in 2006 the Finders Keepers label reissued her eponymous 1976 debut album, and after a long delay, on February 4th her follow-up Vurulduk Ey Halkim Unutma Bizi will be freshly and easily available on LP via the Spanish imprint Pharaway Sounds.
She’s been called the Joan Baez of Turkey, though it feels more appropriate to portray Selda Bağcan without Western associations. “Bitter sound of the Turkish People,” a descriptor her fans (and later Selda herself) adopted to encapsulate her music’s unabashed folk intent, serves the purpose pretty well, and the phrase also relates to the considerable troubles the singer-guitarist has endured for her activism.
Between 1981 and 1984, Selda was imprisoned three times, and she additionally lost the right to travel abroad until 1987. These actions were the direct result of the Turkish coup d’état of 1980, an event that signified a major shift away from the freedom of expression fostered by the region’s years of multi-party democracy.
It was an environment that produced the fruits of Anatolian Rock, a scene that continues to be dominated by the work of prolific guitarist Erkin Koray, said to be the first person to play rock ‘n’ roll in Turkey, though by the late ‘60s he was but one artist amongst many in a burgeoning field. In 2001 Dionysus Records subsidiary Bacchus Archives assembled a 22-track compact disc Hava Narghile: Turkish Rock Music 1966 to 1975 Vol. 1, a document that served as this writer’s first deep drink from the Anatolian Rock cup.
Friday night at the Black Cat, fans were treated to three excellent female-fronted bands that carried echoes of the past but remained uniquely their own thing. It felt like taking a trip back in time to the punk-tinged female acts of the past like Sleater-Kinney or the lo-fi honesty of Liz Phair. This is a sound that has been missing for quite a few years, and to hear it resurface now is certainly welcome.
Cayetana, a three-piece band from Philadelphia, took the stage first. They came out with a handful of speedy garage-punk pop songs to get the audience ready, and in a lot of ways stole the show for the lucky folks who decided to show up early. Featuring some tight playing and one of the best bassists I’ve seen in quite some time, they proved to be an early highlight.
Columbus, Ohio’s All Dogs came next, and they were a great addition to the bill and seemed to fit well with the stylings of the other acts. For a relatively new band, they have a surprising number of great catchy songs. Singer and guitarist Maryn Jones was particularly impressive throughout their set.
“‘I Know’ started as a jam session in busbee’s living room in East Nashville.”
“We were just strumming through some chords and mumbling through melodies that felt right. The lyrics developed out of a more personal place, a feeling of not knowing a whole lot, except for knowing that you really love someone and would do whatever is takes to care for them or make things right with them. Sometimes that’s all you need to know.” —Aaron Espe
“Might add that the neighbor’s buddy came over and had his motorcycle idling while we were trying to record vocals in the front living room of my house. If you listen carefully you can prolly still hear his motorcycle on the vocal track!” —busbee
We’re delighted to debut Bombs Over Nowhere’s disarmingly lovely “I Know” taken from their self titled EP which arrives on store shelves February 25th.
PHOTOS: BRENDAN O’HARA | We did a fair bit of press in advance of Sunday’s DC Record Fair 5th Birthday Party at Penn Social, and if there was a recurring theme, it had to have been come either early (or late) for the best deals.
Apparently that message was heard rather loud and clear. Well before doors opened, a line extended down E Street, NW and remained an enthusiastic constant throughout the day. (Not the line, the enthusiasm.) We’re grateful for the attendance, patience, and warmth that cut through Sunday’s frigid temperatures.
Photographer Brendan O’Hara was on hand to document the event for us, as well as the Washington City Paper and Brightest Young Things who contributed coverage afterward as well.
And yes, watch this space. You’ll see us again in 2014.
Andrews’ national debut, Redemption, will appear on racks across the country coinciding with a featured performance at the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival on May 4, 2014. Redemption was produced by 2014 Grammy winner, Leo Sacks. The album showcases Glen David’s rangy baritone bellow and his Tremé-inspired mix of jazz, R&B, gospel, and funk.
The album showcases his high-energy band and features special guests keyboardist Ivan Neville, guitarist Anders Osborne, and saxophonist Ben Ellman.
“When I was growing up in Northern California, the record store was the best place to hang out.”
“We’d dig through the used record bins (Streetlight Records, Logos, Metavinyl) for hours in hopes of finding stuff that nobody was listening to at the moment. I have a very fond memory of a friend who bought a record called A Rare Sensation by a band called The Chinese Stars. My friend loved the album art and the title so he bought it on a whim, and was surprised at how great and weird a band they were.
We were all psyched on them for that entire summer. It’s stories like that, which got me into collecting vinyl.
One of the first records I bought was Raw Power by Iggy and The Stooges. I heard “Search and Destroy” in Wes Anderson’s movie The Life Aquatic, and immediately bought the record from a local shop in my hometown of Santa Cruz. That was the start of it, I got into ’70s/’80s stuff like T. Rex, The Velvet Underground, The Modern Lovers, and Sonic Youth. Those albums were basically the soundtracks to my high school years.
Brooklyn’s Guardian Alien can be aptly described as avant-psychedelia, and with Spiritual Emergency they’ve assembled the most experimentally diverse affair in their still concise discography. Considering the extent of the LP’s ambition, the ratio of success is rather impressive. But just as importantly, with each new release the unit has exhibited a distinct and evolving musical personality.
Formed in 2010 by drummer Greg Fox, Guardian Alien brandishes an often abstract mix of acoustic and electronic elements occasionally and appropriately accompanied with a focus on themes of expanded consciousness. Topping it off is an instrumental ability that’s most quickly discernible through the maximal and often downright athletic skill of the leader.
A noted drummer for the likes of Dan Deacon and Teeth Mountain plus a solo artist under the moniker GDFX, Fox is also a former member of Liturgy, the arty and divisive black metal outfit led by the alliteratively monikered vocalist/guitarist Hunter Hunt-Hendrix. A few years back Liturgy acquired simultaneous acclaim and derision for standing apart from the norms of the black metal genre, with proponents hailing them as a breath of fresh air and detractors lambasting them as indie-scene thunder-stealers.
Two main points of comparison between Liturgy and Guardian Alien are their locale and the fact that neither group displays the slightest hesitation in utilizing considerable skill in the service of their overall musical objectives. And while the undisguised employment of instrumental acumen falls pretty squarely into metal’s general historical MO, its appearance as part of Guardian Alien’s psych attack brings the proceedings a tangible and welcome prog (as opposed to punk) rock edge.
PHOTOS: NATHAN PARDEE | “They’re like if Led Zeppelin and The Band had a baby in Joshua Tree that grew up listening to Ryan Adams covering the Stones’ ‘70s country-influenced songs.”
Take a gander at the The Wild Feathers’ Twitter page, and you’ll find quite the bio. And if you’ve never heard of these guys, you’re likely confused by it. Or maybe a bit skeptical. Or, probably, both. Let’s face it, those are some lofty comparisons there.
But go to a Wild Feathers show and, trust me, you’ll get it.
All apparent pretensions aside, in reality The Wild Feathers are simply a modest group of musicians with a shared passion for classic, true American rock n’ roll. And this Friday night in Dallas, Texas, the band ensured that rock n’ roll was alive and damn well.
It was a freezing 12 degrees outside in DC when Phosphorescent took the stage Wednesday night at 9:30 Club, but the sold-out crowd made for what felt like a cozy night in with friends.
Starting off with “The Quotidian Beasts” off of last year’s Muchacho, which led the charge for the eight-song section featuring the full backing band, the set drew heavily from Muchacho but still managed to feature a generous sampling of back catalog material.
The band then left the stage for a four-song break that featured Matthew Houck performing solo for what was arguably the stand-out section of the show. That’s not to say the band was poor in any way—far from it actually—but stripped down to its essence, you could really begin to appreciate the vocal delivery and the emotive performance. What was also notable was how silent the club became.
“Vinyl makes me think of my Mom, first and foremost. One of the earliest memories I can access from my childhood is of dancing around her studio, flailing my every limb, listening to Bruce Springsteen’s Born in the USA. Of course, I had no real-world idea that in 1988, vinyl’s hibernation was about to begin.”
“It was the sort of dancing that happens in a vacuum; none of my movements were planned. I was made of jello for a handful of minutes, mimicking my mom’s goofy dance moves and absorbing all of that good Bruce Springsteen vibe.
When I turned 17, my Mom took her record collection out of storage and gave it to me as a gift—a rite of passage, in a way. At that point, vinyl was essentially a museum piece. It was the beginning of the mp3 age, towards the end of the CD age. But making my way through original pressings of Hendrix, Cream, Bob Dylan, the Beatles, Bob Marley, and even some great early blues recordings, made me realize that my Mom was a super hip lady in her heyday. That is an inherently difficult realization for a 17-year old to make about his mother.
Less than a week before the New Orleans jam stalwarts head back on the road, they have released an online single, “Dolla Diva.” The song features David Shaw of the Revivalists on lead vocals and Maggie Koerner on backing vocals.
Koerner has been touring with the band and put on a mighty impressive performance during Galactic’s fiery Halloween show at the Civic Theater in New Orleans.
The band starts the next phase of their relentless touring on January 30, 2014 with a show in Milwaukee. They bop around the Midwest and the Northeast before returning to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. Full tour dates are here.
She just wouldn’t leave me alone. The ex-wife, that is. She kept telling me, “You have to listen to Mumford and Sons!” Yeah, right. I had no intention of listening to the Mumps, or Sanford and Son, or—I can never remember their stupid name. But she kept at me, the way fanatical Rush fans keep at you, crazy-eyed to convert you to their weird cult. I finally surrendered—you can only hold out against a John the Baptist-type for so long—and grudgingly agreed to give Mumford and Sons a listen. It was the least I could do for the ex-, who is lovely, sweet, and German, and the only person I’ve ever known who celebrates the anniversary of The Night of the Long Knives (mit Schnitzel and Kuchen!)
Having listened to Mumford and Sons’ 2012 release Babel, what’s my expert (ahem) critical opinion of the enormously popular English folk rock-bluegrass quartet? Well, first of all, I think they’re a fraud. There’s a Mumford, but no sons, when here I expected a nice family act like The Osmonds. I also think Mumford and Sons are too slick by far, and Marcus Mumford’s spirituality-laden lyrics and total lack of a sense of humor do nothing for me. Furthermore there’s a sameness to their music, as my friend Alyse noted recently: “I hope you write a review of their song! It’s one song, right? The one they just keep renaming? (Shhhh, I am so onto their marketing ploy….)”
That said, by God when Mumford and Sons get a head of steam up on their banjos, mandolins, accordion, resonator guitar (whatever that is) and multiple drums, you’ll think it’s the second coming of The Pogues. They know how to cut loose, although they don’t do it nearly often enough. Then there’s vocalist Marcus Mumford, who sounds great when he’s singing passionately at the top of his lungs, but comes off as a pussy when he isn’t. Is it okay to call Mumford a pussy, Jon? (Yes. —Ed.)
Press Play is our Monday morning recap of the new tracks received last week—provided here to inform your vinyl purchasing power. Click, preview, download.
