Tag: #Import 2025-04-25 15:23

anthology

“Glorious New Zealand rock from the country that brought you, well, little else. The music is, as the name insinuates, good clean rock. It sounds like Cap’n Jazz without the noise and with a bit more pop sensibility. This anthology is for all fans of rock. The Clean has been making quality music for over two decades and it is about time that they get what is due to them. High points: In spirit and in history, it’s like a better Violent Femmes. Low points: The recording itself is very flat and does not allow the full dynamic range of the band to show.”

Blues in his Bones

‘”Music was always a weapon,” began Judah Bauer, the creative force behind 20 Miles.

Like an army at war, Judah is relentless. If he is not on tour with John Spencer Blues Explosion, he is on the road with 20 Miles. He has been playing guitar in both bands for a combined 15 years or so. Needless to say, the man has his scars and can honorably considered a veteran.rnIn between yawns, the obviously worn-down musician trudged on about touring, a never-ending work ethic, and his musical “mission.”

“I feel like I’ve been at war for the last few years. It’s chaos. While one band is resting, I’m on tour with the other. I barely have the time to make it from America to Australia to join the other band before the next show.”

After such a tour of duty, the average soldier would probably expect nothing less than a homecoming parade and an early retirement. Not Judah.

“I’m getting better at the guitar and that’s what I really want. I don’t want to think too far ahead. I just want to be where I’m at right now and always evolving.”

His work ethic has certainly paid off in unimaginable ways. Most recently, the Blues Explosion was included in the filming of an episode from an upcoming PBS documentary series “The Blues,” at Radio City Music Hall. A different director filmed each episode and Wim Wenders, known best for directing “Buena Vista Social Club” and “The End of Violence,” directed the Blues Explosion’s episode. Afterwards, a gala concert was held where the band got to play with the likes of Buddy Guy, Aerosmith, B.B. King, and John Fogerty.

In London, Judah got to play guitar for blues music legend Solomon Burke.

Originally, 20 Miles was a project fronted with his brother Donovan. Donovan has since left the band to pursue other ventures. Since then, Judah has fully taken the creative helm.

“This tour will break in the new band. If everything works out, they will be on the next record,” mentioned Judah, who was, at this point, running behind schedule.

A plethora of musicians have worked on the 20 Miles albums and they seem to come and go with each passing release.

As the song “Rhythm bound” off of the most recent album “Keep it coming…” suggests, music has always been a part of his life. Blues enraptured Bauer early on, as did jazz. Citing John Lee Hooker and Miles Davis as influences, it became apparent early on that music would be a big part of his life.rnStarting off with the saxophone, and eventually moving over to the guitar, Judah started his first band at an early age. Exceptional Children, his new-wave unstructured noise band which also featured Donovan, was just a passing phase, as he claims the genre of indie music also is.

“I can’t get out of that bag. I’ll never shake it. Punk is the scene that I grew up in but I’ve changed a lot.”

Judah describes 20 Mile as a mixture of “garagey” Tom Petty and the Rolling Stone’s “Exile on Main Street.”

“I like that sort of feminine blues/rock thing that they (the Rolling Stones) do,” said Judah.rnThe mix of these influences does show, as well as the bleeding across band lines from the Blues Explosion to 20 Miles. None of the influences are thought out in the writing process, though.rn”If we were that premeditated, we’d be accomplished poets,” cleverly quipped Judah. “Well-rehearsed music just bores me. I don’t see the point in it.”

Out of all of his musical projects, 20 Miles is the rawest endeavor. It fits into the blues scene, which promises concerts worth attending, and music written on a higher metaphysical level.

http://www.wwujd.com/

‘Ever have a problem telling if something was singularly the most brilliant concept of all time, or if it was among some of the worst? That’s exactly the way the “What Would Uncle Jesse Do?” web site will make you feel. At points, you’re ready to laud its genius. Then, you scroll down the page a little and read some of the most worn material since knock-knock jokes.

Most noticeably, the site seems to enjoy lifting material like extreme comments such as calling everything “totally sweet,” and using “crapped my pants”-style jokes that other, more oft-viewed comedy sites have been known to do. It’s too obvious.

Wait a minute…

This site isn’t funny “ha-ha,” it’s funny “strange.” Eh, the Uncle Jesse instructional on how to teach a monkey Kung Fu is OK but far from brilliant. Nevertheless, it is a spectacle – and that is the point of the Web Site of the Week. It’s a necessity to have something off-kilter to help set your workweek straight.

One of the newer additions to the site is an essay contest (the first annual one ended recently), which could win you a day with Uncle Jesse. It sounded promising, even after realizing that the contest was bogus. The three top essays were published online and, at that point, it became obvious that even the submissions were probably bogus. The writing style is too similar to the site’s content.

The most frequently recurring funny/strange part of the site is the superimposed John Stamos pictures. The digitally altered images are about as dead-on accurate as George W. Bush’s grammar. Have mercy, it’s bad! Also, he seems to appear in most pictures with a can of PBR (Pabst Blue Ribbon). While we may not have be masters of the history of “Full House,” it seems like there is no real connection between the man and the beer.

You have to wonder, what would Uncle Jesse (err… John Stamos) do if knew this site existed?

Honesty is the best policy

‘”I don’t do well with big groups of people,” Tim Kinsella admits.

If he met the countless legions of fans he has inspired, he would probably go into cardiac arrest. This is something he either denies or just avoids at all costs.

“It’s not hard for me to NOT think about it,” he says.

Every aspect of his life has been built in such a fashion that he can avoid doing so. His motivation is to keep writing music. It’s what he does for fun, not for finances. His home has been turned into a studio and he lives with most of the musicians with whom he writes and, more often than not, at least one of those musicians is a relative of his. He doesn’t go to parties often and he keeps his socializing to a bare minimum. As a matter of fact, he combines work and play all in one. As a bartender, he makes enough to cover his finances and, as a bonus, all of his friends join him during shifts for drink and merriment.

“People call me and ask me to come to parties and if I turn down the invitation so that I can record, they get mad at me,” he said. “After a decade, they still have trouble accepting that this is who I am and what I do.”

It’s not that there’s an intentional wall being built up around him, it just appears that he’s completely unaware of the impact he’s made on the people around him, not to mention the entire independent music world.

One of the most common sentiments I’ve encountered while interviewing musicians is a statement such as the following one made by Denver Dalley of Statistics and Desaparecidos:

“I’m just like everyone else in indie rock,” he said. “I grew up on and was inspired to write music by that Cap’n Jazz album, ‘Analphabetapolothology.’”

This was Tim Kinsella’s first band. Cap’n Jazz was wrongfully described as “emo,” though it would be accurate to say his cryptic lyrics came directly from the heart. The band pioneered a solid combination of math and art rock, proving that real punk took talent to write. What really captured the essence of this band, though, was Kinsella’s voice. His screechy scream, at that point in time, was unheard of.

After hearing his voice, it’s impossible to deny the effect it has had. That particular brand of screaming has been replicated countless times by many of the bands that have formed since then.

Since the band’s breakup in 1994, the members have formed countless offshoots, including The Promise Ring, American Football, The Owls, Friend/Enemy, Ghosts and Vodka, Vermont, Joan of Arc, etc. The most recent of these incarnations is Make Believe.

Joan of Arc, Kinsella’s artsy rock project, and Make Believe have the same lineup for both recording and touring but the music is said to differ greatly. Make Believe will be picking up where Cap’n Jazz and The Owls left off. It’s a straightforward project bound to rock your face. No effects, no drug problems, no bullshit. Just rock, that’s it.

“What else am I going to do?” Kinsella questioned. He’s soft-spoken and laid-back. He’s does not hold back what is on his mind but he takes his time saying it.

“In the band we always ask each other, ‘What if we had real lives?’ but none of us want to do that. With the amount of work that we do, it’d be impossible.”

Genre-crossers bare all

‘Sometimes the paths that you chose not to pursue effect the one you end up taking the most. The Shins’ lead singer James Mercer is rock-solid evidence in favor of this theory. He has a history of doubling back on roads with reckless abandon. His choices play out like a roadmap of downtown Manhattan; they are riddled with deserted affairs.

Mercer is notorious for capriciously parting from dead-end jobs. When the whim hits him, he has no bones about deciding to simply not return from lunch. To him, any lapse in the daily workflow can be an opportunity to jump ship, if need be.

In nearly every case, a “need be” situation arose quickly. One job he briefly held was at an amusement park, open during only the blisteringly hot summer days of Albuquerque, New Mexico. He worked by the Spider, a spew-inciting blender of a ride that caused most of its patrons to release the semi-digested contents of their inner beings. Such instances were so frequent that a covering soon was put in place to protect the unassuming folks down below from the opening-bile skies, ready to unleash their unfriendly acidic showers at any given moment.

One of Mercer’s last positions was at a high-volume silk screening factory where the machines did a majority of the work. Although the position sounds harmless enough, the chemicals used in the screening process were highly toxic to all those who had a tendency to breathe.

Everyone knows, though, that chemicals are the spice of an artist’s life. So, it wasn’t that far of a leap to the path that he should end up taking to its natural end, as an up-and-coming rock ‘n’ roll star.

Despite the success of The Shins, he hesitates to assume that the band has naturally come upon stardom. Rather, it’s a process that has happened by accident and is comparatively much less grueling than dealing with either regurgitations or toxins.

“It’s all sort of a coincidence that this band has done as well as it has done,” said a weary Mercer, worn down by the long stretches of traveling involved in a tour. “It was more like a recording project I did by myself when it first began.”

During its gestation period, it was just a collection of four-track recorded songs written and recorded primarily by him when the opportunity came for him to remove his focus from his other band, Flake.

Flake, most of whose members moved onto The Shins, was described by Mercer as a “typical ’90s indie rock band.” He described their sound as a little bit Superchunk, a little bit Pavement.

Another band he played in was Blue Roof Dinner, which did covers of songs mainly by Dinosaur Jr., the Pixies and My Bloody Valentine.

Once The Shins took on enough members to carry out the recordings in a live setting, a few degrees of separation led them to Sub Pop. The proper connections were made, “Oh, Inverted World” was released and the rest was pretty much history.

Well, except for overcoming obstacles.

“The worst part of youth culture is the pressure you are driven by to align yourself with a certain group,” said Mercer. “You have to know whether you’re a punk, into death metal, if you’re a hippie, or whatever. Hopefully people don’t feel that way about our band.”

In keeping with the tradition of categorizing, he aligned himself with the skaters and grew up listening to Brit-pop bands like The Cure and Echo and The Bunnymen, as well as American punk staples the Pixies and Sonic Youth.

One of the bigger barriers the band has recently had to overcome is the overwhelming fear of not being able to live up to the standard set by their initial release.

“Everybody says not to worry or let the pressure get to you,” he said. “That didn’t make a difference. It still got to me.”

The best way to deal with stressful situations, of course, is to find outlets to channel through which to channel the problems. One of the ways the band does this is through mutual assistance, playing video games and in the arms of loved ones.

In the case of keyboardist Marty Crandall, that loved one is Elyse Sewell, a top runner-up on the UPN program, “America’s Next Top Model.” Currently, she is in Milan doing a photo shoot for a fashion cover and preparing for another photo shoot which will land her face on billboard ads.

“That, on the other hand, is a sure sign that you are a true rock ‘n’ roll band,” said Mercer, with tongue planted firmly in cheek. “When someone in the band is dating a model, you’ve got to be a rock star.”

deja entendu

‘You know you’ve made it big when you’re a character in a computer game. Brand New, you must be proud of your Emogame 2.0 status. Like most musicians satirically represented in the Emogame, it’s hard to tell if the presentation is a backhanded compliment or a forehanded slap in the face.rnSo, let’s start with the backhand before moving to the forehand.rn”Deja Entendu’s” second song is titled “Sic Transit Gloria … Glory Fades.” Although it’s just a simple Latin phrase and it’s English translation, one cannot help but assume it is a reference to “Rushmore.” That was an amazing movie.

Okay, now for the backhand.

It seems like there’s a rapper in the band. Maybe it’s supposed to be some sort of a punk’s rendition of freestyle but it just sounds like white guys rapping over screaming to me. That’s only one step removed from Linkin Park or Limp Bizkit, y’all.rnIn whatever twisted, bland way emo now means “emo,” this band fits into that genre. Maybe it now means the following:rnEmo: a subgenre of the independent musical culture from which a musical group runs as fast as possible to the borders of mainstream music.

It’s like nu-emo bands are the illegal immigrants of the musical community – and we all know how a few locals feel about “illegals.”

Here’s a word of advice: never trust an “indie” band that has done so many major magazine articles, covers and photo shoots – especially not in such a short period of existence. In this case, the word indie means either “too young to be taken seriously” or it’s just a label some public-relations person slapped on because its current marketability.

city of festivals

‘William Seidel and Ryan Weber were two late acquisitions to The Promise Ring shortly before the Ring’s season came to an end. Together, they provided backing vocals, percussion, keys and bass for that pop-punk collaboration.

As co-conspirators, they earned a modest reputation for their true effort, Decibully, but don’t expect them to live in TPR’s shadow for long. As a matter of fact, don’t expect them to sound anything like The Promise Ring.

Siedel and Weber are just two of the many driving forces behind Decibully. Originally formed to be a three-piece, the band has expanded to include seven members. Being a septet has freed the band up to explore new dimensions to their sound and focus more on their instrumentalism than just churning out songs. Their priorities are straight: music first, vocals second.

“City of Festivals” is a meticulous freshman release on Polyvinyl Records. It leaves no style untried. The songs’ mass lies in crisp, clean musical lines, driven primarily by keyboards and secondarily by guitar. Seidel’s vocal parts formulate the density of the songs. The lax and jazzy tones of his voice make their marks in melodies that range from Jeff Buckley to Sade to Wham!-era George Michael to Dido. His vocal possibilities are endless.

This record manages to walk the mellow music line while rarely tilting to the boring side. The tunes are fresh and difficult to categorize. It is “indie unprecedented.” While coming to the too-close-to-Oberst Bright Eyes comparison once or twice, mainly because of the band’s similar-sounding choir use as a song introduction, there is little to no leeway to make lazy comparisons.

Aside from the sonically defining keyboards and Seidel’s voice, the most enticing qualities of “City of Festivals” are the banjo and lap-steel parts. They add texture to the songs and give them a broader dimension.

If you’re ready to try something new that isn’t so weird it takes months to grow on you, Decibully is the band to which you should listen. They’re easy-listening indie rock.

caution

‘Listening to record after record for the purpose of critique can be a mind numbing experience. For every decent record that comes in to the office, 20 horrible albums short-circuit numerous pleasure-firing synapses. Although the job of reviewing music might seem appealing, it ruins the music-listening experience. The unconscious singing along to a song never happens anymore. Never.

Then Hot Water Music’s most recent album showed up. Within two or three listens, it became a daunting task to not sing along.

After countless years of dominating the indie scene, these Gainseville rockers are still adjusting to the more comfortable fit of a bigger record label. With more room to breathe, “Caution” sounds more mature and satisfying than previous Hot Water Music releases.

Easily, this album rivals 1997’s “Forever and Counting” as the best HWM album to hit the shelves. “Caution” is undoubtedly smoother around the edges, while still maintaining the rough Fugazi-esque qualities responsible for the impressive list of credentials the band has to its name.

Hot Water Music, a band inspired by the name of Charles Bukowski’s depressing collection of short stories, is one step ahead of the emo-core genre. Their vocals are admittedly raw and from the gut and are matched only by the same heartfelt stylings of Chris Wollard and Chuck Ragan’s vocals. Jason Black’s is also one of the best bassists currently in rock music. The guitar work and drumming does not lag too far behind.

HWM is known for their consistency and energy driven forcefulness, but “Caution” purposely focuses that energy more than prior albums.

The album runs the gamut of styles, in so far as a hardcore band can be versatile; an envelope which HWM keeps pushing further.

The variety of instruments, such as slide guitars and violins, might be less apparent in this album, but its emotional range is much wider. Songs such as “Trusty Chords,” the catchiest song on the album, express lonely and empty sentiments completed by rather clever conceits such as these lyrics from the aforementioned song: “I hate this place but I love these chords. ‘An empty fate just means an even score.’”

The secret is out

‘Musician John Dufilho is in the studio recording music. It’s a favor he’s doing for a friend. The music he’s recording is for a television advertisement. Explained as “sort of a long story,” he put it simply by saying “it’s no big deal, though.”

He laughs it off modestly. Having any part is in any form of television broadcast is something that most of the rest of us can only dream about. The potential exposure does not seem to faze him.

“Really, it’s not a big deal,” Dufilho repeats.

This is no exercise in futility for him. As a matter of fact, working with others is something that he has been learning to do recently. Actually, it’s something that’s becoming a part of his everyday routine.

As the creative force behind Dallas, Texas’ musical prodigy, The Deathray Davies – best rationalized as “how cool would the Deathray Liotta’s sound?” – he is coming to the conclusion that relinquishing control is not only a necessary evil but is sometimes the best way to forge ahead.

The Deathray Davies began as a solo studio project with the release of 1999’s “Drink with the Grownups and Listen to the Jazz.” From there, they have continued to release roughly an album per year, each with somewhat of a clever title. With each new album, he found himself sharing the studio space more. By the time last year’s “Midnight at the Black Nail Polish Factory” came around, The Davies were a full band.

The addition of members earned the band six nominations for the Dallas Observer Music Awards, including Best Rock/Pop Band, Best Song and Best Album. In a tight-knit scene in Texas that produced bands like At the Drive-In, Egon, and such, Texans love this band. To back that fact up, they have been accepted to play at more South By Southwest (SXSW) festivals than Dufihlo can count.

“About three or four times,” he said. “We’ve gotten in every time we applied.”

Not a bad record for a band that has been around for four or five years.

Now, the word is spreading and they’re no longer the secret of the Lone Star State.

“I’ve been getting some shit from a friend of mine,” he continued. “He lives in Fort Worth and we haven’t played there in over a year, yet we’ve played in places like Chicago like four times in the past year.”

A hazard of touring is that bands often end up playing everywhere but home during a tour.

Another hazard is what happens when you drink and drive – your bike.

“On a recent tour, we brought our bikes because we actually thought we would get some exercise on the road,” he said. “On days when we’d be loading up the trailer, we’d be drunk and decide to have these contests of who can drive their bikes into the wall of the club the hardest; who can wreck the best. That served the purpose of the bikes for that tour.”

It’s easy for Dufihlo to laugh this off. As far as the history of the band goes, this is the only type of wreck the band has encountered.

Upon moving to Dallas, he befriended Centro-matic’s Will Johnson. He was impressed with the fact that Johnson had just released the first Centro-matic album by writing and recording all the parts on his own. So, he took the cue and decided to write on his own, aside from his then-punk rock band, Bedwetter. And The Deathray Davies was born.

“The first two records, it was all me playing on them,” he said. “I started a band without having a band. Fortunately, it’s turned into one from there.”

breathe

‘Ambient shoegazer dream pop. Think Sigur Ros. Think Coldplay or Radiohead. Think Bjork and the Sugarcubes. This is what you get when you dissect Leaves.

Now add up Leaves, Sigur Ros, Bjork and the Sugarcubes and ask yourself: Are Icelandic bands some of the most talented musicians in the world or what?

Be careful. Something awfully suspicious is going on over there. It’s relatively quiet and then, out of nowhere, a new musical act appears that proves American music to fall in the quantity and not quality category.

“Breathe,” the Leaves’ Dreamworks debut, is a solid 13-track album that proves its worth with every listen. The benefit is, the more you listen, the more the band distinguishes itself from its contemporaries.

The vocal comparisons to Coldplay’s Chris Martin are inescapable, but a close listen to “Breathe” will have the listener following the plight of the guitar through its long and labor-intensive journey. It wails in pain. It beckons for attention. Metaphorically speaking, it plays the role of the tortured soul and it accomplishes this task better than the vocals themselves.

In the mix, the guitar is equally represented but can get lost in the musical melee. Be sure and keep an ear out for it.