Going somewhere else is sometimes the only thing you can do to really find your true voice. And I don’t mean taking a vacation or a daytrip. Moving from one state—or, coast—to another is a very adventurous move, but emigrating to another country to live is truly beyond what most of us might even consider doing. Can you imagine leaving your family and friends, everything you know in search of a new life? Looking for new employment opportunities? And don’t forget that eternal search for love.

Chiara D’Anzieri left her hometown of Turin, Italy and ended up in the City of Brotherly Love, Philadelphia. Of course the relocation had to do with music, but we all know what would instigate such a bold move: love certainly played a part. When she was younger, Chiara spent time in her Italian homeland studying cello in conservatories. However, she was ready to create some rock and roll and her Italian heritage coupled with her classical background gave her a unique lens with which to make this a reality. All she needed now was a new stage name, a professional moniker—make that Santa Chiara—named after her favorite monastery in Naples, Italy.

And so she joins me on this episode to discuss her life and her latest record called, of course, Imported. The new album explores the immigration process from her point of view, but there’s more here, too. There’s hope and light connected with the anxiety and excitement of finding one’s way in a new country—not only is Santa Chiara finding her way around, learning how to fit in and stand out, but she’s making great art out of it, too. As the saying goes, “When in Rome.” Or, in Chiara’s case, it’s “when in Philly.” For now, at least.

Evan Toth is a songwriter, professional musician, educator, radio host, avid record collector, and hi-fi aficionado. Toth hosts and produces The Evan Toth Show and TVD Radar on WFDU, 89.1 FM. Follow him at the usual social media places and visit his website.

Remembering Glen Campbell, born on this day in 1936. —Ed.

The English Pre-Raphaelite poet Dante Gabriel Rossetti once wrote, “Each hour flings a bomb at my burning soul.” Before adding, “Neither from owl nor from bat can peace be gained until I clasp my wombat.” I admit to being completely flummoxed by what this Rossetti chap means by “his wombat.” Did he have, in his personal menagerie, an actual wombat? One that he clasped to his troubled bosom when bombs were being catapulted at his burning soul? Your guess as is good as mine.

But I digress. The point I’m trying to make, albeit in a hopelessly circuitous way, is that my soul too has been burning of late, and I don’t see a wombat in sight. I have a cat, but when I attempt to clasp him to my bosom he is immediately transformed into a furious blur of tooth and claw. So I ask myself; how best can I regain my peace? And the answer, stated as succinctly as possible, is Glen Campbell.

The odd thing is that despite the fact that I grew up in a rural backwater, in a town so small that the “Welcome to Littlestown” sign and the “You Are Now Leaving Littlestown” sign were the same sign and many of my fellow townspeople made those toothless rustics in Deliverance look like cosmopolitan sophisticates, the only country music I ever heard came to me via Hee Haw, which I would occasionally watch with the old man. That said, I totally loved “Rhinestone Cowboy.” It fell into the rarified genre of glam country, and I could never hear it often enough. That said, I’d never heard any of his other songs and was never tempted to buy a G.C. LP.

When I finally got around to listening to him as an adult, and happened upon such immortal songs as “Wichita Lineman,” “Galveston,” and “By the Time I Get to Phoenix,” I’ll admit I was disappointed. The string-heavy arrangements turned these great numbers to treacle. Distracted from the songs’ greatness, they did. Which I why I was thrilled to discover Campbell’s final studio LP (he’s still with us, but in the final stages of Alzheimer’s disease), 2013’s See You There.

Read More »

VIA PRESS RELEASE | The true test of originality for any musician comes when you hear an instrument being played and you instantly know who’s playing it. For electric guitarists, certainly Hendrix qualifies; Page and Clapton, too. Maybe Eddie Van Halen before the legion of imitators. You probably have your own list, but to us, standing toe-to-toe (or pick-to-pick) with those legends is Television guitarist and solo artist Tom Verlaine.

His self-taught, jazz-influenced style, largely devoid of effects, and vibrato tone makes any Verlaine solo unmistakably a Verlaine solo. That he was quite an accomplished, idiosyncratic songwriter is just a bonus. Real Gone Music is very proud to announce that we have arranged with the Verlaine estate to release Tom’s last three solo albums on LP, starting with his 1992 instrumental masterpiece Warm and Cool, which has never been released on vinyl in the U.S.

Swirling within this album’s 14 compositions are hints of rock, jazz, country, surf, and even a little bit of the guitar noir found on Angelo Badalamenti’s soundtracks for David Lynch, all given brilliant new life in a fresh mastering for vinyl by long-time Verlaine collaborator Patrick Derivaz, who also played bass on the album. Simultaneously avant-garde and familiar-sounding, Warm and Cool is as contemporary and forward-thinking as any music coming out today, but—as the new liner notes by Verlaine’s life partner Jutta Koether point out—the album fits into a larger modern art and philosophical context.

Indeed, reading Koether’s poetic love letter to her dear departed and listening to this gorgeous, daring music makes for a profound experience we are eager to share. Pink vinyl pressing to go with the artful choice of type hue on the front cover.

Remembering Bernie Worrell, born on this day in 1944. —Ed.

Funkadelic—and Parliament as well, naturally—were America’s go-to bands for psychedelic funk at the dawn of the Seventies; their acid-fried, groove-based jams came complete with fries, shake, and a generous helping of raunchy high humor, and you would practically have to be a member of the KKK to deny them. Theirs wasn’t just the sound of Black Liberation, it was the sound of Human Liberation, because as George Clinton understood only all too well, we all need to free our asses.

If 1970’s Free Your Ass… And Your Mind Will Follow isn’t my favorite Funkadelic album it’s not for lack of good old-fashioned genius. It’s just a mite uneven. Side One’s as great a one-two punch as you’re ever likely to bump your ass against. Side Two, with the notable exception of the brilliant “Funky Dollar Bill,” not so much. That said, this six-song LP—weaker second side and all—still constitutes an essential addition to any sentient life form’s home musical library. Believe me when I say the people on Venus (they prefer to be called people; “alien” is considered a racial slur) will want to purchase this album if they haven’t already. People from Venus are in need of some ass freeing too.

Robert Christgau once said of this baby, “Not only is the shit weird, the weirdness signifies,” and to that I can only add “Amen.” Opener “Free Your Ass and Your Mind Will Follow” is a 10-minute freak-out over which the brilliant Eddie Hazel plays blistering guitar of the sort that will make you forget all about Jimi Hendrix. He’s joined by a madcap chorus of vocalists (I count eight in the band’s lineup) repeating slogans (“Free your mind!”, “The kingdom of heaven is within!”, “Open up your funky mind and you can fly”), uttering paradoxes (“Freedom is free of the need to be free”), and generally getting all hotted up. It also boasts great bass by Billy Nelson and some very fuzzy organ by his magnificentness Bernie Worrell, and may well constitute the coolest dime bag of music you’ll ever snort up your ears.

Read More »

There’s a unique quality that actors and actresses bring to songwriting and musicianship. Oftentimes, they create works that lean heavily on the idea that the singer, or narrator, is a character. Of course, all musicians and songwriters do this to some extent, but there’s another level of commitment when it’s done by a musician who also happens to be an actor.

Rebecca Pidgeon is well-known in both worlds, as an actress and as a musician and songwriter. This year she’s released her 11th full-length album titled, Songs of LA which explores the City of Angles’ by simultaneously studying its daytime sunshine alongside the town’s hauntingly dark nights. Pidgeon’s long-time writing partner, David Batteau, worked on many of these songs with Rebecca before the pandemic sidelined the project. Here, Rebecca fuses her acting chops with her songwriting and performing prowess.

Join Rebecca and me on this episode as she takes me on a journey through some of Tinseltown’s creepiest back-alleys as we discuss her new album, her multifaceted career, and how everything that glitters in La La Land isn’t always gold.

Evan Toth is a songwriter, professional musician, educator, radio host, avid record collector, and hi-fi aficionado. Toth hosts and produces The Evan Toth Show and TVD Radar on WFDU, 89.1 FM. Follow him at the usual social media places and visit his website.

Remembering Dickey Betts. —Ed.

When it comes to your bad karma and shitty luck, The Allman Brothers Band is a tough act to follow. And no, I’m not just talking about the tragedy that was Allman and Woman. I’m talking about the motorcycle accidents that claimed the lives of Duane Allman and Berry Oakley; rampant infighting and supernatural drug use; and a big-time cocaine distribution bust that led Gregg Allman to testify against his road manager in order to save his own ass. But despite the deaths, the duplicity, and even Cher and Man, The Allmans remain the most influential Southern blues-rock band of all time, and next to Lynyrd Skynyrd, the best damn band to hail from south of the Mason-Dixon Line.

But here’s the thing about the Allmans; I can honestly say I never much cared for them until Duane Allman took that fatal spill on his motorcycle. Because Duane, God bless his totally rad facial hair, was a blues player, and the fact is I despise the blues. As The Simpsons’ Bleeding Gums Murphy immortally said, “The blues isn’t about feeling better. It’s about making other people feel WORSE.” Don’t get me wrong; I can handle them if they’ve been radically tweaked, freaked, warped, or twisted. But Duane, a traditionalist, played ‘em old school, making me the dick at the party who ran out screaming every time somebody put on “Statesboro Blues” or, even worse, “Stormy Monday.” As for “Whipping Post,” it’s way up there on my Shit Parade alongside “Midnight Rambler,” “People Have the Power,” and the entire recorded output of The Clash.

The bottom line? One man’s tragedy is another man’s blessing, and Duane’s untimely demise had the ironic effect of transforming The Allman Brothers Band into a group whose music I actually like. 1972’s Eat a Peach had a few great songs, such as “Blue Sky” and “Melissa,” that took the band in a non-blues direction, but it also included the infamous “Mountain Jam”—really, did the world really need a song so long it took up two sides of a double LP? It took the advent of guitarist/vocalist Dickey Betts as the Allman’s de facto leader to produce 1973’s Brothers and Sisters, which emphasized a unique hybrid of country rock over the blues, and threw in some good-times boogie for good measure.

Read More »

Celebrating Bez on his 60th birthday. —Ed.

A crash course for the ravers—back in the late 1980s, Happy Mondays became the veritable house band for Madchester’s e-fueled rave scene, which transformed an entire generation of Joe Bloggs-clad English kids into pinwheel-eyed, whizz-happy 24-hour party people stepping on and up, up, up to a dizzying sound composed of equal parts alternative rock, acid house, funk, and psychedelia.

Oh, it was a glorious time, a true Renaissance as it were. I’d have loved to be there when the party started, and every blessed baggy-jeans wearing ecstasy-altered geezer at the Haçienda loved every other baggy-jeans wearing ecstasy-altered geezer at the Haçienda. And every single one of them knew the song—which just happened to be the Happy Monday’s deliriously danceable “Step On,” with its infectious keyboard progression and funky drumming—would go on forever.

It didn’t of course—I strongly recommend Pulp’s “Sorted for e’s and Whizz” if you’re looking for a post-mortem—and Happy Mondays crashed as hard, or harder, than anybody else, having gone “crack crazy” (in guitarist Paul Ryder’s words) in Barbados during the sessions that would culminate in 1992’s Yes Please! But you can still hear the joy of being young and very, very chemically altered in every song on Happy Mondays’ 1999 Greatest Hits.

On such immortal ravers as “Step On,” “Kinky Afro,” “Loose Fit,” “Mad Cyril,” and “24-Hour Party People” brothers Shaun and Paul Ryder and Company (including of course, the band’s official “dancer” Bez) kept the punters soaring above the dance floor all night long. It’s all there in “Kinky Afro”—Brit pop melded smoothly to a seductive groove—and “Loose Fit,” the definitive baggy anthem and Madchester fashion manifesto, which fuses funky percussion to a lovely riff and a message (“Don’t need no tight fits in my wardrobe today”) that put a sizeable segment of England’s youth in flares.

Read More »

VIA PRESS RELEASE | The Hold Steady are pleased to announce Stay Positive, a charming, illustrated children’s book based on the beloved song of the same name, arriving October 1 via Akashic Books. Pre-orders are available now wherever books are sold.

Signed copies of Stay Positive—which features The Hold Steady song illustrated by award-winning cartoonist and comic book author David “El Dee” Espinosa—will also be available. In addition, a Limited-Edition Package is on offer including bookplates signed by the band, an exclusive Stay Positive sticker sheet, and official Stay Positive-themed, THS reusable water bottle only available as part of this bundle.A call to arms to stand strong and persevere during trying times, Stay Positive is based upon the title track of The Hold Steady’s acclaimed 2008 fourth album, a longtime fan favorite and staple of the band’s jubilant live shows. The new 32-page book for readers of all ages follows the path of a humble armadillo who discovers along the way how music can pull together a disparate cast of characters. A lesson in tenacity and maintaining a positive attitude when encountering adverse situations, Stay Positive ends up in a unified celebration that mirrors the triumphant joy of a Hold Steady performance.

“‘Stay Positive’ has a line that says, ‘The kids at the shows will have kids of their own,’ and it’s true: each year more Hold Steady fans become parents or grandparents,” says The Hold Steady’s Craig Finn. “So, I’m thrilled that we’re offering the children’s book version of Stay Positive, which brings THS joy to the whole family.”

Read More »

Those hankering for an international strain of stripped-down ’60s rock blare should investigate Mejor de Los Nuggetz: ‘60s Garage and Psych. It serves up mucho Spanish language R&R action and arrives on opaque red vinyl just in time for Record Store Day courtesy of Liberation Hall. The bands (and one gal singer) hailed from various locales in Mexico, Spain, and South America. The songs are all covers of rock, R&B, and pop hits from the USA and UK. A few radio station IDs and commercials for cars and cola enhance the weave of a very appealing listen.

Driving home the impact of the Rolling Stones on the ’60 garage rock phenomenon, the Mexican band Los Apson opens Mejor de Los Nuggetz with an echoey, stomping “Satisfacción.” Additionally, the Barcelona-based Los Salvajes are featured with two Stones covers, “La Neurastenia,” an energetic version of “19th Nervous Breakdown” with killer bursts of fuzz, and “Todo Negro,” a reading of “Paint It, Black” that deftly retains the urgency of the original. “Voy Por Ti,” the last song on the album and the second by Los Apson, dishes out Willie Dixon’s “The Seventh Son” in the spirit of the early Stones.

Much of the source material on Mejor de Los Nuggetz derives from the UK. There’s “Nuestra Generación” by Barcelona’s Lone Star, a lean, manic take of The Who’s “My Generation,” while later in the album, Los Belmonts of Mexico City brings “Arriba Abajo Y a Los Lados,” an impressive version of The Yardbirds’ “Over Under Sideways Down.” Later still, Mexico’s Los Matemáticos are heard with “Me Atrapaste,” a ripping run-through of The Kinks’ “You Really Got Me.”

Spain’s Los Mustang’s version of The Beatles’ “Please Please Me” is a crisp chime-pop delight. A few years later and the band had gravitated to the other side of the Atlantic for inspiration with “La Carta,” a take of The Box Tops’ “The Letter” that is faithful to the original as it establishes a growing tendency toward pop.

Read More »