Too Old to Rock ‘n’ Roll #16: A Room at the Heartbreak Hotel

Angela Sanchez
(Archive.)

Saturday, May 6, 2017 — 7:45 AM

It’s a cold, misty morning, unseasonable for May. I am driving my little Honda — its brakes finally mended — down back roads past white-fenced horse farms, paddocks rolling away across the hills to vanish in the fog.

I’m dressed for the weather, and it’s a new mode for me. I’ve long affected the look of a suburban gentleman farmer, but since November’s election I’ve been thinking about a more aggressive personal style. The ugly political climate makes me feel I’ve been drafted into some notional maquisard force; military surplus gear just feels right. I’ve taken to wearing a black Ranger beret and an M65 infantry jacket purchased by mail order, still musty from long-term warehouse storage and now festooned with safety pins and badges — a blood-spattered Watchmen smiley, my Pogues pin, an ancient Socialist Party button.

I drive on past the chain-link and double rows of razor wire that mark the perimeter of Industry; the low brick dormitories and yellow-painted chapel look almost picturesque in the mist and rain. I am bound for Mendon, New York — for the Cottage Hotel, which despite its name is neither, but rather a corner bar and restaurant. Roscoe’s Basement is booked for a show tonight, and we’re coming out now to set up and soundcheck before the place opens for lunch.

I pull up to the venue just as a chartered party bus is pulling away for a wine country tour. The passengers will return to the Cottage for supper, which should be ending right around the time we start playing. This bodes well; if the place is full of customers, we can surely convert some of them to an audience.

Tom and Deanna are already on the scene when I arrive — first in, as usual, setting up the PA and the drums. I manage to be of some use. I’m still getting my arm stretched and twisted once a week at physical therapy, but most of my carrying capacity has come back, and the new-grown bone is getting stronger.

The stage is none too large, and bounded by a low wooden railing, so we need to place ourselves wisely; drums in the stage left back corner, with Craig’s bass in front of Tom. Deanna’s at far right, within reach of the mixing board. I’m front and center, with the guitars filling out the back line. It’s snug, but not uncomfortably so.

The vibe is easy as the others roll in one by one. The room is deep, and comfortably shabby. Popcult bric-a-brac decorates the walls. It’s the very picture of a neighborhood roadhouse, and in that sense we are probably the ideal band for the place.

We go about our business — haul gear and tape down cables, tune and tweak and joke around. Chuck has brought his little daughter Alyssa along, and she’s standing watch over a big box of doughnuts, which means she is suddenly everyone’s bestest friend.

But all the while, there’s a little ache of sadness giving these mundane actions a poignancy. It comes from knowing that tonight is the end of something. After this show, we will lose one of our own. Tonight’s gig will be Michael Mann’s last show with Roscoe’s Basement.

Mike has always been one to keep his own counsel, and when he broke the news a few weeks previously, we were all blindsided. I had wondered if something was up when he joined a second band, but his involvement with them had not compromised his work with Roscoe’s Basement. In talking to him about it — and if he seemed hesitant to speak about it, I wrote it up to Mike’s typical hesitance to speak, full stop — I gathered they were an all-original outfit, their style heavier and more technical than ours, but not yet a gigging proposition. At the time, it seemed like a good way for Mike to exercise a different side of his talent.

It was hard for him to talk about his departure; I could sense that. It would have been easier for him to simply ghost. Maybe he was tempted to. I don’t know. But he took the time to explain it to us, even though it obviously made him uncomfortable. I respected that. He was at pains to let us know he wasn’t throwing us over for the other band — that in fact he was quitting both. He had simply taken on a massive workload, exacerbated by his perfectionist tendencies, and it was just no fun for him anymore. And because he is an all-or-nothing kind of person, the only way he could restore some balance to his life was to make a clean break.

I knew him well enough, I thought, to let his decision stand. Some guitar players love stirring up drama so they can get their egos stroked, but that’s not Mike. He wasn’t looking for us to beg him to stay; his mind was made up. Deanna and Tom sounded him out a little, floating the idea of cutting rehearsals back to twice a month, but it felt even at the time like a token gesture. We all loved Mike — loved him enough to want what was good for him, even if it meant the band would take a hit — and we trusted him to know for himself what he needed. Of course there were no hard feelings. How could there be?

Me being me, I cast my mind back, looking for the moment I’d fucked it all up, trying to figure out precisely what I should regret — any unkind word or gesture, any imposition, any time I’d been a tyrant or a jerk. But in the end, I thought I understood. I cannot presume to speak for Mike, but I remembered how I had walked away from something big and vital, something that felt like a calling; something that I found immensely gratifying, but which at the same time threatened to consume my life; something that had me snared like a fox in a trap, which to save its life will gnaw off its own limb — as I, and maybe Mike, felt the need to amputate one part of myself in order to save the rest.

Anyway, the decision was made. And Mike had very cannily taken steps to ensure that his resolve would not fail him. He committed to stay with Roscoe’s Basement until our show in May — and the next day, the day after the show, he and Debbie would fly off to Europe for a month. That’s a clean break. I admired him for it almost in spite of myself.

May 6, 2017 — 8:45 PM

After setup, I spend the rest of the day mooching around the house and trying not to drive my wife and son crazy with my nervous energy. I noodle at the guitar; take a couple of showers; practice my stage patter in my head, and in whispers; take the dog for more long walks than she actually needs. When the hour comes at last, I get into my commando drag and head back to Mendon.

To my delight, the joint is packed. Dinner service is just winding down. The party bus has returned, and the room rings with boozy good humor. Indeed, there seem to be three or four parties going on simultaneously, spilling into one another. I see cakes, and cocktail shrimp, and people, so many of them, fogging the windows with the steam of their breath.

The atmosphere is electric before we play a single note. But when we do — my God, when we do . . .

You can check in any time you like — and it turns out you CAN leave, after all. Photography by Janice Hanson.

It’s a haze. It is madness. It is glorious. There must be bum notes and missed cues and sloppy endings — there always are — but not a one can I recall. In my recollection, we play with power and grace and swagger, and everything is good and nothing hurts. It’s only between sets when I feel my human frailty upon me, as I step out the back door into the cold in my sweaty T-shirt, stretching to keep limber like a long-distance runner, pacing the dark alley with nerves. But when I’m up on the filthy stage carpet, it all fades away.

We go down a storm. This is, without a doubt, the most enthusiastic crowd we’ve ever entertained. I want it to last forever. But the hours wear on, their passage marked by the gradual dwindling of the crowd. The cooks and the dishwasher appear from the kitchen, roaring their approval. But at last, it is midnight, and we have to stop.

There’s a giant TV by the stage playing Saturday Night Live with the sound turned down. I glance over occasionally as we tear down. LCD Soundsystem are the musical guests. “Call the Police” is brand new. James Murphy is about my age, I think — I’ve got a couple of years on him, but around the half-century mark that’s not enough to make much difference — and we’ve got a similar blocky physicality. The band is killing it, I reckon. The TV makes no sound. They look like they’re having a good time, anyway.

I allow myself a post-show beer and collect our pay. We divvy up the cash. Of one accord, we set aside a little something extra for Mike. Send a postcard; buy yourself something nice.

It’s awkward. It was always going to be awkward. I’m making a conscious effort to give Mike and Deb the space they need, and the strain shows. I ask Mike if I can keep him on the email list for the Song o’ the Week Club; this seems terribly important to me in the moment. He says okay, and even assents to a hug.

And then — well, Mike and Deb have an early flight, and I’ve got a long ride home, and nothing lasts forever.

Sunday, May 7, 2017 — 1:45 AM

The ride home is dark. Many of these back roads have no street lights, and I don’t think I see another car the whole way. All things pass. I am six months younger than Jeff Buckley would have been, four days younger than Kurt Cobain. I survived my thirties, and thrived — well, sort of — and found my way back to the music. And tonight I suffered a loss, and also played a great show, maybe my best ever. Funny how things work out.

It’s the small hours before I get home. The house is dark and quiet. And as I walk in from playing the greatest show of my life, I am greeted with the sight of a huge pile of cold dogshit in the middle of the living room carpet.

Yeah, funny how things work out.
Ha fuckin’ ha.

Next: Bring ‘em All In

Album Review: Jodee Lewis, “Buzzard’s Bluff”

Angela Sanchez

This new album from Jodee Lewis, Buzzard’s Bluff is a cathartic release from deep within the Missouri Ozarks. It draws inspiration from growing up in a small town, the trials of faith, and a 19-year marriage with children. No journey is without its crosses, and the album emerges after years of self-reflection and struggle.

Lewis, who now lives in Chicago, grew up in Missouri, where a deep passion for music rang through her home at an early age. The sounds of Merle Haggard, Emmylou Harris and Waylon Jennings became familiar chorus  voices that influenced her own storytelling.  “Buzzard’s Bluff” opens with a haunting chill that quickly becomes an anthemic march. With raw honesty, Lewis sings with a spine tingling melody that commands attention. The steady beat of drums intertwine with deep bass, energetic strings and a harmony filled chorus. The memory of the area still clings to Lewis as she states, “There were a number of things about my childhood that were tragic and unhappy, yet the Ozarks is deep in my bones and I still carry a great love for the area and its beauty, even after fleeing to Chicago almost 20 years ago.”

As an artist, Lewis has had to search deep within her spirit to deal with the unexpected turns of life. Dealing with personal loss is hard enough, but devastation can shake repressed memories loose and bring them to the surface. She explains, “My songs are more honest and they’re executed much better because I have my head on straight. I’m proud to share that with my friends and family who have supported me along the way.”

The as-mentioned sound of the title track, is indeed, based around minor chords and a certain dark vibe, but builds into taut old-fashioned dobro and fiddle runs that punctuate the verses and leads into the chorus; “Though The Flood May Rise” is a down-home country gospel piece with a neat shuffle and driven by banjo and fiddle and handclaps – which automatically makes me think of a tent revival meeting and “It Ain’t Killed Me Yet”, with its tongue-in-cheek title, is upbeat and bright and could easily find a place on country radio.  “Start Again Tomorrow” is a traditional country ballad, with deliciously twangy guitar and warm harmonies; “A House That Was Never A Home” is the album’s standout – a slow number but exquisite in its execution and feeling and “Peace At Last” closes the collection out in very satisfying fashion with just vocals, guitar and intermittent strings.

While I like most of what I’ve heard, Ms. Lewis’ voice is the only distraction.  At times, it’s almost too-childlike to be convincing of the passion and person pain that she’s poured into her songs.  But a moment like “Peace At Last”, her voice fits the landscape.  Overall, a very strong effort and I’d like to hear what she does next (although defining her as an “Americana” artist isn’t accurate – hers is a pure country sound which a great sense of understanding the traditional sound and style).

Buzzard’s Bluff is currently available

www.jodeelewis.com/home

Album Review: Elephant Rifle, “Hunk”

Angela Sanchez
As pig-fuck goes, this is some of the best.

For those just tuning in, pig-fuck is the unfortunately titled genre of explosive post-punk that, at first, was cut in Chicago and the greater American Midwest in the 1980s and 1990s – think bombastic acts like Big Black, Vesuvian ones like The Jesus Lizard, and masters of the dirgier and grimier, like Killdozer. The genre, however, did not die with the millennium. The recently disbanded STNNNG, for example, sometimes skirted the line between art-punk and pig-fuck and was, arguably, one of the country’s  best punk bands.

Well, Elephant Rifle officially has entered the mythos. The Reno-based group has followed up its incredible 2015 effort, Ivory – its self-described “serious record” – with an even more incredible outing, Hunk, out today via Humaniterrorist. In 2018, pig-fuck or noise-rock or whatever you want to call it doesn’t get any better than this.

Where Ivory seem concerned with precision, the sharpening of the blade, Hunk is more expansive and concerned with volume, not only in the sense of sound but also in the sense of size. There’s still an underlying tightness to the band, a sense of drone strikes in progress, on songs like the excellent “Fuck My Name,” “Big Milk” or the visceral “Sorority Row.” But, listen to the opener, “Hunks’ America,” and you’ll see what I mean – the band just sounds bigger and meaner than it did on Ivory, and for all of the right reasons.

But this is far from one sustained roar. On the creepy “Broomrider,” the band foregoes the typical riffage for a textured intro with jangly, borderline-acoustic guitar, found percussion and almost-whispered, raspy vocals. The thing eventually boils over, as much of the record is cranked to 11, but it’s an interesting diversion, a sign these guys know how to cook up the goods without relying on the old formulas.

Reno also plays a role in the new LP. The band has said, due to the size of its hometown and the hometown scene, it frequently plays bills with bands that don’t mirror its micro-niche. (Kudos to them for listening to music that doesn’t just sound like Elephant Rifle.) That sense of width is on display on a track like the infectious “Frat Poison,” which features a bizarrely addictive guitar-skank and buoyant bass that darts all over the landscape. It still sounds like Elephant Rifle – the bridges are introduced with a blood-curdling roar – but it’s what Elephant Rifle sounds like playing reggae. And, for some weird reason, it works.

In the end, though – and, literally, in the end, with a closer like “Nervous Talker” – this is a big rock record, 70s classic rock crossed with 90s noise-punk.  The guitars are played loud, the bass drives, the drums pound, and frontman Brad Bynum, a keeper, barks like a man possessed. I’m all in; are you?

Review: Elephant Rifle – “Hunk”

Angela Sanchez
As pig-fuck goes, this is some of the best.

For those just tuning in, pig-fuck is the unfortunately titled genre of explosive post-punk that, at first, was cut in Chicago and the greater American Midwest in the 1980s and 1990s – think bombastic acts like Big Black, Vesuvian ones like The Jesus Lizard, and masters of the dirgier and grimier, like Killdozer. The genre, however, did not die with the millennium. The recently disbanded STNNNG, for example, sometimes skirted the line between art-punk and pig-fuck and was, arguably, one of the country’s  best punk bands.

Well, Elephant Rifle officially has entered the mythos. The Reno-based group has followed up its incredible 2015 effort, Ivory – its self-described “serious record” – with an even more incredible outing, Hunk, out today via Humaniterrorist. In 2018, pig-fuck or noise-rock or whatever you want to call it doesn’t get any better than this.

Where Ivory seem concerned with precision, the sharpening of the blade, Hunk is more expansive and concerned with volume, not only in the sense of sound but also in the sense of size. There’s still an underlying tightness to the band, a sense of drone strikes in progress, on songs like the excellent “Fuck My Name,” “Big Milk” or the visceral “Sorority Row.” But, listen to the opener, “Hunks’ America,” and you’ll see what I mean – the band just sounds bigger and meaner than it did on Ivory, and for all of the right reasons.

But this is far from one sustained roar. On the creepy “Broomrider,” the band foregoes the typical riffage for a textured intro with jangly, borderline-acoustic guitar, found percussion and almost-whispered, raspy vocals. The thing eventually boils over, as much of the record is cranked to 11, but it’s an interesting diversion, a sign these guys know how to cook up the goods without relying on the old formulas.

Reno also plays a role in the new LP. The band has said, due to the size of its hometown and the hometown scene, it frequently plays bills with bands that don’t mirror its micro-niche. (Kudos to them for listening to music that doesn’t just sound like Elephant Rifle.) That sense of width is on display on a track like the infectious “Frat Poison,” which features a bizarrely addictive guitar-skank and buoyant bass that darts all over the landscape. It still sounds like Elephant Rifle – the bridges are introduced with a blood-curdling roar – but it’s what Elephant Rifle sounds like playing reggae. And, for some weird reason, it works.

In the end, though – and, literally, in the end, with a closer like “Nervous Talker” – this is a big rock record, 70s classic rock crossed with 90s noise-punk.  The guitars are played loud, the bass drives, the drums pound, and frontman Brad Bynum, a keeper, barks like a man possessed. I’m all in; are you?

-30-

Radio City With Jon Grayson & Rob Ross: Episode Sixty-Two

Angela Sanchez

Radio City With Jon Grayson & Rob Ross:  Episode Sixty Two

A lot of us have been feeling a social fatigue, not just from politics, but from the very strange way the world in general has been shifting in some unsettling ways.  Jon and Rob are no different, but they’re here to talk about it in rational, thoughtful and humorous ways – to help alleviate some of your concerns, fears and tension.  So here we have the boys kicking back and talking about regional soft drinks (!) and some well-imbibed “harder” beverages; the schizophrenic circus in Washington D.C. – especially the White House Correspondents’ Dinner; Bill Cosby’s downfall; Subway to close 500 more sandwich shops and why fast food is on a downward spiral, across the boards; the still-exciting Stanley Cup playoffs, plus a slightly different “In Our Heads” and quite a lot more.

Make yourselves comfortable, tune in and let yourself relax, knowing Jon and Rob are out there, doing their thing for you – for everyone…

Radio City With Jon Grayson & Rob Ross:  Episode Sixty Two


The podcast will be on the site as well as for subscription via iTunes and other podcast aggregators. Subscribe and let people know about Radio City, as well as Popdose’s other great podcasts David Medsker’s Dizzy Heights and In:Sound with Michael Parr and Zack Stiegler.

Popdose Q&A: Josh Lovelace

Angela Sanchez
Making music for families and kids isn’t something a lot of artists dream of doing. Some artists stumble into it. Some artists do it out of necessity. Some artists have kids and use it as a creative outlet. It’s not often an artist says “I have always wanted to make a record for kids.” And yet, those were the first words out of Josh Lovelace’s mouth during our conversation.

Josh Lovelace doesn’t need to make a record for kids. He’s a member of the successful, Grammy-nominated band Needtobreathe and could merely be content with the success he’s had with them. But he went and made a record for families anyway.

Simply put, Josh is doing it for the right reasons.

Writing songs for kids seems to come pretty natural to you. But, you’ve always been busy with your band Needtobreathe. What made the timing right to make your first family album Young Folk?

I have always wanted to make a record for kids and families. Growing up, there were a lot of great artists that were making really good records for kids. Sharon, Lois & Bram, Raffi. I was very inspired by Pete Seeger & Woody Guthrie and folk music as a kid. I always appreciated it and thought it would be fun to add to that collective of people that have done it before and are doing it now. I didn’t know when it would happen. When I started having kids, I started really enjoying singing songs with them and for them. When my son was just a couple of years old, I remember just sitting on the floor and trying to teach him songs and to see his face light up. Learning music, learning songs for the first time, it was something that just really inspired me to create something original, to create something that was from our home, and put it out. I never necessarily had the intention of starting a career as a children’s artist, but at the same time, I’ve appreciated the people that have come before me, and to be able to do it, and have my kids young enough to enjoy it themselves, is absolutely the funnest way to do it. It’s been a blast.

When you first decided to tell the rest of the band – ‘OK, I’m going to make this record for kids’ how did they react? 

It’s interesting. We all have some things that we’re passionate about outside of the band.  Some of those things are music related. Some of them are other business things that we just love to do and always wanted to do. The guys were extremely supportive from the beginning. I’ve been working on this record for three or four years, really since my son was born. They knew that I had some songs here and there that I was working on. They saw it coming. When it came down to when, it just really did make sense. We were in between record cycles and it made sense to put it out and just let it do what it’s going to do. I never had any intentions to really tour it unless something crazy happens and I can. But the main thing was I just wanted to get it out. It was kind of a time capsule. It was the first four years of me being a parent and I felt like it was the perfect time to  get it out there, but to also creatively move on from that and be able to really create the next Needtobreathe project. They were very supportive and still are.

If this is a time capsule of the first four years.  Are you already looking ahead to making a second family record?

I think doing what we do as musicians,  being in a band for  pretty much my whole life (laughter), I feel like the way that it goes, where you put all of your energy into making something that you’re really passionate about, you put the record out, then you tour it. And pretty much at the same time, you’re already thinking about the next thing. And that’s the cycle. That’s been the cycle my whole life. I definitely think that I would like to do something else whether it’s children, family, just something that continues to give back to the children’s music community, and to my kids. I think that’s been the funnest thing for me as a parent, to be able to use the things that I love – music, and writing songs, and engaging an audience – to use those things for not only for my kids, but for other kids. I would love to do another one and I think that that’s definitely on my mind.  Needtobreathe, is heading into the studio to do our seventh record, which is absolutely insane.  We’ve been doing it for a long time, 15 years now. So, the fact that we get to do that, and then we can also spread our wings and do the things that we’re passionate about, we can explore those things. I really think I have the best job in the world.

Pete Seeger, Woodie Guthrie are guys you grew up listening to, there were some politically charged messages within the songs. Is that something you maybe see yourself pursuing on the next record? Do feel kids are able to grasp or understand the message?

I’ve thought about that a lot. Studying the heroes, for sure, has opened up the part of my brain, as far as the way I think, and the way that I can engage the culture that is listening to these songs. Looking back at some of those Pete Seeger and Woodie Guthrie, those guys were at the forefront of big movements, and they were using their voices to change the world. I definitely think that that is something that’s tangible, and it’s something that a kid can understand in the sense of their voice can make a difference. I think that’s something that I would be honored to carry that and to inspire kids, but also moms, and dads, and grandparents. People would want to use their voice and use their life to do something that makes other people’s lives better. I’m definitely exploring that more and more and thinking about ways that music can do more than just be a pleasurable experience.  It can be something that can really be a game changer.

Which leads me to the standout song – ‘Climb a Tree’

‘Climb a Tree’ was one that I had a chorus first, and I knew that there was something really special there. It felt like when you’re talking about songs that feel like you can change the world, or that was that song for me. I felt like it was the song on the record that I knew I had to get right, because  you can put songs about bears eating your underwear, and messy Bessie, and itchy beards, and all that is great. But the goal for this record was to find a balance, to find a way that you can…you could play those kind of songs, but then at the same time introduce a vision, and something that’s important, something that has some meat to it. And that was the one that I thought, ‘man, if we can get this right, I feel like it could inspire some kids to stand up for their friends, in this crazy world we’re living in, and if they could be a difference maker in someone’s life. That was the goal. That’s that song. And I had my friends from the band Welshly Arms, who we toured with as well, and they just knocked that vocal part out of the park.  It’s one of those songs that I hit repeat even still because it means so much to me, and it is definitely the heartbeat behind the whole idea of Young Folk.

You brought a couple of guests in on your record – Ellie Holcomb, Ben Rector and others. Ellie has previous experience in creating music for children.  Was she offering you any advice when you were looking to record her as being part of one of these songs?

I’ve known Ellie (and her husband Drew) for a very long time. We’ve done a lot of touring together with Needtobreathe, and just been a big fan of theirs, not only musically, but just as people. I think that they are some of the best people that you could ever meet.  I remember when she was on the road with us, and they had their first child, and just to see the way she interacted with her child, she was definitely someone that you looked at you thought, well, this person has got to be the best mom ever. Her voice is perfect for children. It’s perfect for that audience. When we started thinking about this project, I couldn’t think of anybody else that I would want to have a voice on the record, because she’s just one of the best there is out there.

How long did it take Ben Rector to say “yes” and join you for ‘A Bear in the Woods’? Did he bring in his own set of lyrics, or was it already written, but with Ben in mind?

It was definitely written with Ben in mind. I had the song finished. I actually had a demo of me kind of doing the part that Ben sings. As a songwriter, sometimes you put yourself in someone else’s shoes.  Like what would they say?  What would they do to it if they are writing or singing the song? And I definitely think that when I was writing ‘A Bear in the Woods’ I was thinking how would Ben Rector have delivered this lyric or how would he do this?  When it came down to would Ben actually guest on the record, I honestly didn’t think he would do it, and he immediately said, “Yes, I’m in. When? Sign me up.”  We went into a studio and actually re-tracked my vocals and his vocals at the same time. It was just so fun, and he jumped in and really made the track. I mean you hear people all the time that didn’t know that Ben was on it, and the track comes on and they had no idea he was on it. They’re just sitting eating dinner, and spitting their food out, because it just shocks and surprises them to hear Ben Rector sing about a bear eating his underwear. So, it’s pretty awesome.

You’ve been able to play a few gigs in front on children and families. How have they reacted and how have you learned how to do a show with kids in the crowd?

Yeah. It’s a totally different experience (laughter) to play in front of kids than to play in front of adults. I’ve been very lucky that in the last couple of months getting to do those kind of things, getting to play for families, and it’s been so fun. This record was really created to be celebrated together. When I thought about doing shows, I thought well, I have to do some shows, because I don’t want to not hear these songs sung in a room with a bunch of people. The goal is that we all can sing along, and then we can do this thing together. I have loved playing shows, and I’m learning so much from not only from the experience of doing it, but just from kids, and watching them light up on certain things, and the way you interact and engage them. I was lucky enough to go to Canada right when the record came out and do some shows with Sharon & Bram, and they’re celebrating their 40th year of doing children’s music. They get up there, and they absolutely slay. (laughter) If you can say that. They just absolutely know what they’re doing. They know their audience, and they’re the best at it. They’re in their seventies and eighties, hey look like they’re in their twenties, because they’re giving it everything they’ve got. They know how to engage with children. They know how to get respect from parents. And so, they’ve been definitely the ones that I’ve looked at for my whole life really and just been like, OK, that’s how you do it, that’s how you make a kid’s records, that’s how you engage families, that’s it.

Young Folk was release in November. What has been your initial impression of the current landscape of kids’ music for families.  Are there some artists that you’ve discovered in the kindie music industry that have impressed you?

In making this record, I’ve learned a lot about kindie music. There is some amazing stuff coming out of the children’s music industry that I didn’t know about until I really started getting serious about making a record. Caspar Babypants was one that somebody was like, “You need to check this record out.”  I knew his band, The Presidents of the United States of America and then…and then to hear that, I was like ohhhh, this is…this is amazing. This makes so much sense. This is so good. The Okee Dokee Brothers, somebody passed their record along to me and I actually reached out to them, and said, “I just want to let you know I love what you do, it’s really good, and I’m putting out a record, but just wanted to say ‘hey’ because I don’t know anybody.” They were so nice. They wrote a note back and were super encouraging. I’ve just met some really nice people that really want to make family music and make it as good as it can be with no hidden agenda. We live in the music industry. You have people that are just fighting their way to the top just to get to the top, but there’s no real purpose behind it in some ways. I’ve been very fortunate to be in a band that is trying to make music that matters and I feel very lucky to be surrounded with some great people in the children’s industry that are doing the same kind of thing. It’s a great community to be a part of.

Young Folk is available from Josh’s website and all other fine music outlets.

Soul Serenade: The Independents, “Leaving Me”

Angela Sanchez
This week we return to the Windy City to meet one of the finest, though too little remembered, vocal groups of the 1970s. The Independents got together in Chicago in 1971. The original lineup included Chuck Jackson (no relation to Chuck Jackson of “Any Day Now” fame but he is the half-brother of the Reverend Jesse Jackson), Maurice Jackson, Helen Curry, Eric Thomas, and Marvin Yancey. Their thing was the love ballad and over the next four years, they proved that they could do it oh so well.

The group signed with Wand Records and it was four that label that they would release all of their original recordings. They debuted with a single called “I Just Want to Be There” in 1972 and while it failed to crack the pop chart is was a respectable R&B hit, reaching #38. “Just As Long As You Need Me,” released as a single the same year did better. While it didn’t quite crack the Top 100 on the pop chart, it was a Top 10 R&B hit.

The Independents

The next single, “Baby I’ve Been Missing You,” was their most successful single to-date reaching #4 on the R&B chart while just barely missing the Top 40 on the pop chart. The best was still ahead for the Independents.

Late in 1973, the Independents released the single that they would be best remembered for. “Leaving Me” was written by Maurice Barge and Jimmy Jiles and it soared up the pop chart all the way to #21 and remained on the chart for four weeks. The single also topped the R&B chart. “Leaving Me” was a million-seller and the Independents were awarded a Gold Disc by the RIAA for their effort.

The following year the Independents released what would be their last three singles. “Arise and Shine (Let’s Get In On),” “Let This Be a Lesson to You,” and “The First Time We Met” all found Top 20 success on the R&B chart. The Independents broke up after that, as groups do. Chuck Jackson went on to release a couple of solo albums and found great success when he teamed with Marvin Yancey to produce and write for artists like Natalie Cole (married to Yancey at the time), Ronnie Dyson, and Phyllis Hyman.

Album Review: Tulula!, “Singing Songs in the Dark”

Angela Sanchez

Accord, New York’s Tulula! has been stomping around Rip Van Winkle’s dreamland since 2006. The acid-cowboy quintet of Jason Broome (The Westport Sunrise Sessions), Rob Norris (East Of Venus, The Bongos, Blue Paradox), Chris Bradley (June Cleaver & The Steak Knives, Shaktipat), Daniel Weintraub (The Westport Sunrise Sessions) and Marianne Tasick (The Sweet Clementines) come off like a mosh pit at a gypsy carnival, followed by a séance with the “27 club”… Between them, these five veterans of underground music have toured the world, recorded over twenty-five albums and eaten like princes with paupers. Tulula! is sure to whisk you one dance away from the happy farm.  And to be very concise, the sounds they make will make you happy and make you think.  Singing Songs In The Dark is their recorded debut and it’s a pretty sweet ride.

If there’s a way to accurately describe the sound of Tulula!, it’s dreamy, dramatic, atmospheric and spellbinding.  Theirs is the soundtrack to a technicolor dream with moments of nightmare; melodic but with twists and turns, which makes it a riveting collection of songs.  Case and point, the opening cut, “Alimony” mixes pop conventions with interesting shifts, going from soft to intense to menacing and back to delicate; “Evergreen Eyes” lures you in and quickly devours you with its quiet/loud/quiet pace – listen to the layered vocals and subtle harmonies – then goes into a completely different movement.  This is one of those wonderful pieces that threads together more than one song into one epic opus (at 5:56, you can see how it can be done, without dragging).  “All My Little Words” is easily the “pop” hit; a radio friendly track that has hooks and melody – and if you listen, it sounds deliberately and perfectly underproduced – there is a live-room warmth and natural-ness that gives this song even more impact and “Come Heavy”, the album’s closer is also the longest song – at 8:50, it feels like the apt sound to the ending of an intense psychological thriller; the vocals are rich and the tension of this piece just builds and builds – and it works.

Eight songs usually don’t merit “album” status in my book, but these are all songs of length; fully-fleshed out, fully realized tracks that have emotional ebb and flow with each.  This isn’t lightweight, disposable or cutesy, yet it’s filled with color and melody, played by some very fine musicians.  Which is why this resonates so loudly and so well with me.  One not to be missed, Tulula!’s maiden voyage, Singing Songs In The Dark, is a ride you need to take.

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

Singing Songs In The Dark is currently available

https://www.diablodulce.com/tulula