three happy bursts of genius

January 24, 2006

It's been a rough week, but why should you care? You'd be more interested in the good parts, and this week has had some really good ones.

My protégé and leader of the Steady Rollin' crew, Mark "Low Rent" Lentz was building a new track when I saw him last week. It was fun to watch him work and I hope you can hear the song soon here. His resplendence is self-evident.

Have you ever seen an album and had to buy it? A CD came to the Mountain Stage office with some really well-done artwork. The packagin reminded me a little of the Mr. Oysterhead cover, but with five dudes in white shirts and different colored neck-ties. The note was from a manager that said "I don't represent these guys, but my nephew is in the band."

First of all, that was cool of this guy's uncle. Second of all, these guys put a lot of effort (and probably money) into their packaging. So much so that it caught my eye. I had to give it a listen; sometimes the packaging is so good that the music can't live up to it.

Now the surprise is, the album was really good! It's a really quirky pop-rock band out of New York called Tally Hall. Forgive me if you've heard of them like seven years ago, but I was stoked to find something I could call pop-rock and still be proud to say I like it.

So, go check them out at www.tallyhall.com . They obviously didn't get much out of their efforts on myspace since they logged in since June of 2004 and Tom is still their only friend (that is unless they accept my e-vances).

Finally, a burst of genius that took me a long time to get around to: I first saw Vic Chesnutt on Mountain Stage last summer. After listening to the tape of the show with Larry, I pulled out my notebook and added “Ghetto Bells,” his latest release, to my (ever-growing) list of must-buy albums. It took me this long to get around to it, but today I bought it and it’s as brilliant as I expected.

The guy is paraplegic and writes incredibly deep, brooding songs with lyrics that sometimes aren't as depressing as they sound. Michael Stipe from R.E.M. aided this fellow Georgian in his pursuit as a professional musician, and "Ghetto Bells” (shamefully not on my Best of 2005 list) features Bill Frisell (omnipresent studio guitarist) and Van Dyke Parks (Beach Boys collaborator/lyricist). This one isn’t for everyone; it’s a tough listen. But if you let Vic draw you in, and have a lyric sheet handy, critical and insightful thoughts will be provoked. www.myspace.com/vicchesnutt . (He’s only been a member since 1/13/06). Listen to “What Do You Mean,” “Virginia” and “The Garden.”

A while back I wrote about Billy Joe Shaver in the blog called "Live Forever." I posted a picture of me and Billy Joe under my profile, in case you're interested, at www.myspace.com/drsickness

Back from the Blues

January 17, 2006

The Sickness has returned to land, in one piece, from the Legendary Rhythm & Blues Cruise (bluescruise.com). I had a lot of apprehension stepping onto a boat with 1700 Blues Fanatics with 70-plus shows scheduled in a single week. I thought I’d step off this boat and never want to hear the 12-bar blues again, what might be called a Blues Hangover.

Instead I emerged from the boat invigorated and charmed by the blues. I had no idea that I would learn so much, but as always, there is still learning to be done. I can’t talk about every show I saw, or even every artist I got to check out. You probably wouldn’t get it anyway, unless names like Hubert Sumlin, Pinetop Perkins and James Cotton mean anything to you.

Blues is an art form. You can debate until the sun rises about what is “authentic” blues. There are tons of “blues purists,” as they’re called, who don’t want to love anything that came after Robert Johnson or Blind Willie Dixon. Some aren’t even interested in the electric blues like Muddy Waters or Lightin’ Hopkins. Then there are those who scoff at any blues that was recorded after 1969. It should be noted that most of these people are probably white …

I hate to seem asinine, but anyone would’ve been shocked initially at the amount of white people on this boat. Or perhaps more shocking would be the astounding lack of black people. This is their music, but the white people are the ones buying their music and setting up the shows, it is now the white man’s music. Bob Margolin and John Hammond have more knowledge of the blues than anyone, and they’re as white as the MS Westerdam (the ship) is long.

There were plenty of black performers, the above mentioned legends, Zac Harmon, Ronnie Baker Brooks, and even the new-age guy like Corey Harris. But the fact remains that the black people no longer have the blues. There aren’t anymore plantations or slavery or segregation to write about, but the blues hasn’t died. In some people’s minds, it died along with all that prejudice.

Now the blues is, contemporarily at least, the white man’s music. I can’t tell you why, except that maybe these whities have found a music that turns them on and they can’t get enough of it. They’ve supported it while the black musicians went on to make soul, disco, rap and eventually hip-hop. I wonder if Mike Jones knows about Muddy Waters or Robert Johnson. I want to know if Paul Wall has ever had the blues. I know Muddy never had no 20 inch rims to brag about … that’s the blues folks.

There’s a kid out there now, called Slick Ballinger, who will one day be the great white hope amongst blues musicians. I see him filling Jon Hammond’s shoes as blues historian and scholar in the next 40 years. The kid is 21 years old and has been researching the blues ever since he saw the movie “Crossroads.” He took it upon himself to study the blues in its own house, the Missippi Delta and the rest of the Deep South. He sat and gazed at Hammonds fingers and listened intently as Hammond preached about Mose Allison.

The truth is that it doesn’t matter, black or white. A line in one of Slick’s song’s says “My Soul Ain’t Black/ My Soul Ain’t White” and that’s the truth. It doesn’t matter what color you are on the inside because the blues comes from inside, where color doesn’t matter. That’s why Muddy told a reporter all those years ago “There’s some white boys playin’ this blues guitar pretty good now …”

And that remains true today. For evidence, check out Tab Benoit, John Hammond, Slick Ballinger, Joe Bonamassa and Jimmy Thackery. They’ve got the blues ladies and gentlemen. I can guarantee you one thing: If you ever should step foot on the Rhythm & Blues Cruise, you too, will have the blues.

My computer is down for now folks, so my updates may be sporadic, but I wanted to say a bit about the cruise. My “From the ship” updates are available here . You have to sign up to get back issues, but it's worth it to get tons of great blues in your inbox every week.

There’ll be more about some of the artists on the boat in the coming weeks, but go get a taste of these guys and see if they’re playing in your neck of the woods.

Here are some links to keep you occupied (at work preferably)

www.TabBenoit.com (LA guitarist that I’ll never be able to repay)

www.ronniebakerbrooks.com (Now this, my good friends, is an entertainer)

http://www.slickballinger.com/home.html (The 21 year old filled with diligence and curiosity)

www.bluescruise.com

www.josepharosen.com (our Blues Wax photographer, great shots of the Chicago Legends)

Fare thee Well O-Five

January 2, 2006

Happy New Year to everyone! The last couple weeks have been incredible and the next couple are shaping up to be as immensely great. Let’s start with the Eve of New Year’s Eve …

On Friday, December 30th, I had my first annual End of the World Party (Just in Case). I stole the name from the Medeski, Martin & Wood album title, but it’s a great concept. Had the world ended the next day, we all would’ve been glad we had the party. But the real reason to celebrate was Vaughn Walters’ last night in the mountains of WV.

You see Vaughn, or Ol’VW as he’s known musically, is taking his first excursion to Austin, TX with his friend Seth and a loaded down Subaru Outback that is guaranteed, by a certified mechanic, to leave them “stranded beside the road.”

Camellia (Delky) came up from Radford to jam once more with her former A Fine Line band mate. Right about 11 o’clock the instruments were tuned up; Delky on fiddle, Vaughn on the banjer, Doc Sick on guitar and the Tonsta on mandolin. We tore through “Your Cheatin’ Heart,” “Woke Up This Mornin’ Feelin’ Bad,” “I’ll Fly Away,” and “Will the Circle Be Unbroken.” The magic that fills the air when you get these kind of people together is so thick, you can seriously feel it inside and out (or at least I could). I’m proud to say that I held an instrument in the same room with these people. The crazy part is that I played the thing!

So the next morning, er, afternoon, I got to share a scrumptious pancake brunch with four of my best friends, (Tony, Lori, Camellia and Vaughn) my sister Amy and my niece Cora. She’s nine months old now, but was totally digging the musician talk (See my pictures).
Everyone, including my sister and her yung’uns, took off by about 2 p.m. The house became incredibly quiet very quickly. Camellia had a gig with La Bianca at the new fish & taco place in Blacksburg, and I had to prepare to review a show that evening . . .

Every New Year’s Eve (since 2002 at least) Princeton, WV celebrates the life and music of Hank Williams Sr., who expired somewhere between Alabama and Oak Hill, WV on New Year’s Eve, 1952, in the back of his powder blue Cadillac on his way to a New Year’s Day gig in Ohio.

Sister’s Coffee House in Princeton plays host to a NYE celebration every year where they serve jambalaya and everyone listens to John Lilly and his band of Hank lovers pay tribute to the Drifting Cowboy himself. Lilly just won a “Ghost Writers in the Sky” contest for best song in the style of Hank Williams, the grand prize being a Washburn guitar with his name in the inlays of the fret-board. He’s joined by Rob McNurlin, a stellar KY recording artist who’s 2000 record, “Cowboy Boot Heel,” was produced by John Carter Cash (Johnny and June’s son). Donny “Dobro” Scott sat in on Dobro, Ritchie Collins supplemented electric guitar fills and solos, and Jeff “Doc” Greenberg on piano. Last year the “Doc” just showed up and asked if he could sit in on piano. Since Ritchie had never played with Rob before, and Rob had never played with Donny, they decided it couldn’t hurt to add someone that none of them had ever played with. As it turned out the guy was an outstanding ivory tickler and he came back again this year (making it the second time he played with John and the boys, ever). Group situations like this make me marvel at the musical language. I remember my mother asking me last year “If they’ve never played together, how do they know the songs?” That’s one of the best parts about country music; even if you’ve never heard the song, you know the song.

On New Year’s Day my folks and I went to see a couple songwriters play at Tamarack, a national showcase of regional hand crafts, fine art and cuisine. Clinton Collins (not the same one I went to High School with) is a songwriter from Princeton that I caught during this past summer’s NewSong Festival in Shepardstown, WV. He was picked as a finalist for his song “Watching Home & Garden,” a great little number about how he never sees a successful 45 yard field-goal attempt then turns to his wife and says “Honey, I bet you could that!”

Then Doug & Shelley Harper, a husband-wife duo, performed some of Doug’s tunes. Doug & Shelly have relentlessly sent stuff to Mountain Stage but are yet to be booked. One note said “Still waiting and hoping in Beckley.” They want to do Mountain Stage badly. Personally, I wouldn’t book them, and I’ll tell you why …

Firstly, I don’t write songs. I admire anyone who does. Some people don’t like to hear or read criticism by someone who has never done what those being criticized have set out to do. Writing good songs is extremely difficult. I realized this a long time ago and I think some songwriters need to come to this realization soon.

Doug forgot his own chords to his own songs and Shelly didn’t seem at all glad to be there. She never spoke and never smiled. She just sat, passively tapping her egg-shaker against her leg while adding harmony to her husband’s voice. If you expect to be able to sit quaintly on a stool while you strum guitar to egg-shaker accompaniment, and expect the masses to get lost in your lyrics of angst, clever antidotes and word-play, then you’ve got another thing coming.

If you’ve got a shaker egg in your hand, I think you should stand up and let other things shake too. I’m looking to be entertained, especially on New Year’s Day.

Now, some clues on how you can spot a modern-country rock cover band from a mile away. Firstly, if you see a straw cowboy hat in Tamarack, that guy is probably in a band. If you should spot a mullet with a leather vest and Texan-necktie, he’s likely in the band as well. And lastly, if, in the same place, you see a tall, thin, clean-cut guy in a black bowling shirt that has orange flames rising up from the bottom, that dude plays bass. It can safely be assumed that these guys will finish their set with a barn-burner like “Sweet Home Alabama,” after touching on such mod-country staples as “Put Some Drive In Your Country,” and “Play Somethin’ Country.” Oh, and by the way, the band’s name is “Back Country.”

Currently watching: Dig!

www.johnlillymusic.com
www.robmcnurlin.com
www.tamarackwv.com
www.myspace.com/olvw
www.myspace.com/camelliadelk
http://www.hybridfolk.com/home.html
http://clintoncollins.com
La Bianca interview