Matthew Hayhurst

The Rosebuds

Originally Published on June 16, 2011 on Aquarium Drunkard.

The Rosebuds just released their fifth studio album, Loud Planes Fly Low; their most inventive, inspired, and honest record to date. Following their fourth release, 2008’s Life Like, the relationship that inspired the group in the first place came to an end and the couple chose divorce in order to save themselves and their music. Leaving North Carolina’s sweethearts at a crossroads, Ivan Howard and Kelly Crisp, chose to look at this as a chance for a new beginning—a chance to push reset. The songs on Loud Planes Fly Low allow the listener to peer into the most intimate of conversations and the catharsis that had to take place if the band was going to give themselves an honest chance at moving forward. I recently caught up with Ivan and Kelly to discuss the process in making the album, and the second chance they have at making the “first” Rosebuds record.

To read the Interview, please follow the link to Aquarium Drunkard.

No Witch

Originally Published on May 24, 2011 on Sunset in the Rearview

Musing about Seattle’s The Cave Singers, I recall the video for “Dancing On Our Graves”, off their 2007 debut, Invitation Songs. It’s coarse, cryptic, and eerily captivating. No Witch, the band’s third release, and first on Jagjaguwar, harnesses that same dusky energy and infuses it with polished instrumentation and abounding influence; An effort that successfully distills a new sound, while staying true to their rain soaked roots.  If Lou Reed made folk records; If Mellencamp lived in New Weird America; If Parsons lived past 26 –  The Cave Singers’ No Witch not only provides a solid example of  new “cosmic American music”, it’s what Ryan Adams was supposed to sound like. 

No Witch presents a rock confidence that’s borderline aggressive, creating compositions that are rich and robust, no doubt a maturity that will bode well in broadening their audience. Songs like “Gifts and the Rafts”, “All Land Crabs and Divinity Ghosts” and “Swim Club” will recall the past, but overall, these songs are a balanced blend of rock, blues, and folk, with the energized “Black Leaf” standing out among them. The Cave Singers are currently on tour with Fleet Foxes and come recommended.

Must Be Blind

Originally Published on May 21, 2011 on Sunset in the Rearview

Must Be Blind revisits the hallowed ground left by 2005′s Superwolf, the stunning collaboration by Will Oldham’s alter ego Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy and guitarist Matt Sweeney. As with their prior feat, this partnership produces a bountiful harvest of eloquent verse and acute instrumentation. The A-side recalls the most refined of Palace material; a crooning compassion set to subtle composition. If you enjoyed Oldham’s new interpretations on  Greatest Place Music, you’ll find “Must Be Blind” cut from the same cloth. 

While Oldham carries the lead on both tracks, the real gem is the Sweeney penned B-side,“Life in Muscle.” A poetic musing of life, death, and creation. A Genesis metaphor set to flourishing arrangements, riddled with overlooked delicacies; it builds, peaks, and gives way to a fading pulse. From the warm distortion that opens the collection, to the exhaling strings that close it, the Must Be Blind EP is very much alive and comes highly recommended.

Mount Moriah

Originally Published on May 19, 2011 on Aquarium Drunkard

You wouldn’t be wrong to categorize North Carolina’s Mount Moriah as “Country Rock,” but might I suggest the term “Southern” be used instead. While the songs are often set in motion by electric guitars that lead down country roads, Mount Moriah garnishes their sound with a faithful declaration of spirit. Be it Heather McEntire’s sorrowful psalms, the haunting organ on “Lament” or the weeping violin on “Old Gowns,” theirs is a requiem with a palpable sense of place. It’s the sound of a band reflecting on, and embracing, the musical roots that entangle the region they call home.

The collaboration of Heather McEntire (Bellafea) and Jenks Miller (Horseback), Mount Moriah formed in part to explore their mutual interest in rural American music. Here, on their eponymous debut, the band has enlisted a veritable who’s who of North Carolina musicians to lend their talents. From the Cook Brothers (Megafaun/Gayngs), to the Bowerbirds and Old Ceremony, Mount Moriah is something of a North Carolina “super-group” on the album.

Lyrically, one of the strongest tracks on the album is “Only Way Out.” Layered upon Miller’s often ethereal guitar, the subtle twang of McEntire’s voice sings about love and loss; an honest portrayal, in plain terms, of a delicate love gone awry. “Love is something that will lead you, not something you can choose;” a mournful acknowledgment that will continue throughout the record.

While somber themes may set the mood, it’s the instrumentation that allows you to absorb unscathed. Paired with McEntire’s candid offerings, Mount Moriah provides a retreat that demands constant revisitation. Set to a Southern pace, with Southern sounds, Mount Moriah places themselves before the congregation for all to hear.

Phil Cook

Originally Published May 9, 2011 on Aquarium Drunkard

Megafaun’s Phil Cook has had another run in with nature. During the recording of his 2009 eponymous debut he battled a violent thunderstorm. This time around, “Mother Nature” has locked him in a room and asked him for more. With guitar, banjo, and dobro in hand, Phil Cook and His Feat offer upHungry Mother Blues.

But before the first note is heard there’s the matter of the collage style cover art created by Catherine Edgerton of Midtown Dickens. It’s one of eroded images, worn out single paper dreams, and layers of a bit of one’s soul. Earth toned elements, taped and pasted together, re-figure and recycle creating something new; something beautiful. It’s a fine example of what good album art should do, one that accentuates the intimate, vulnerable and personal journey that embodies Cook’s Hungry Mother Blues.

Although recorded in a back room during a rare North Carolina ice storm, the album, conversely, acts as the perfect front porch summertime soundtrack. Providing us with unaltered instrumentals, Cook creates a score that invokes a polite nod to John Fahey, Elizabeth Cotton, and the finger-picking, slide stylings of early 20th century country and blues. Following an initial listen I wrote down three words in my notebook: birth / re-birth / and new beginnings. Those are the themes, or characters, I kept returning to as one song lead into the next. With each song, Cook allows his instruments to become alive, not in an effort to create perfection, but to justify their soul. He doesn’t play by the book; he plays from the heart. That’s what makes this record so real.

As a song-cycle, each of Hungry Mother Blues tracks are dedicated to someone in Cook’s life, be it a friend, a bandmate, or more importantly, Cook’s unborn child. Each one of these songs seems to be a chapter, or celebration, of those in his life. They play out so naturally and with ease, that you honestly feel the album is just for him. You’re welcome to pull up a stool, but whether you’re there or not, these songs are going to be played. The most accessible, longest and possibly the most refined track on the album is “Ballad Of A Hungry Mother.” An elegant mix of sharp slide work and deft fingerpicking, it may be the most visually inspiring song on the record. Dried creek beds, loose dressing gowns and red clay stained feet—dawning skies that break over pristine, dew laden fields—terrain sliced by the bare feet of a sacrificial mother.

Another standout lies with the last cut on the album, the slower paced calming that is “The Jensens.” Unlike anything else on the record, it is the “end of the show” track.  The slide work is haunting as it saws the strings ever so eloquently. The chorus subtlety traces the lines left behind by “Lament and Lullabye.” It’s Cook’s El Dorado; His own “Tired Eyes”. The lanterns are dimmed and once again Cook tips his hat to the past. Sunset themes as the journey concludes. But does it? As the sun nips the horizon and the ice cover melts, there’s a sense this isn’t the end. Tomorrow’s a new day, a new beginning. The forces of nature will rear their heads once again, and thankfully Phil Cook will be there waiting for them.

Stranger In My Own Hometown

Originally Published on April 18, 2011 on Aquarium Drunkard

One on my favorite Elvis albums, even though it’s a bootleg, is Cut Me & I Bleed released on Double G Records. The album is a collection of alternate studio, home, and live rehearsal recordings that present “another side” of Elvis. Pedestal removed, Cut Me & I Bleed chooses to present “The King” in a raw, more human, and often explicit manner, one that often eschews the family friendly image constructed by the Elvis foundation.

Of all the tracks (22 in all), the real gem of the bunch, and a personal favorite, is Presley’s stripped down rendition of Percy Mayfield’s “Stranger in My Own Home Town” (studio rehearsal version, July 24, 1970). I can’t think of a more appropriate song for Elvis to cover at this time in his life. Set amongst friends in a rehearsal jam session, Elvis gives one of the rawest, grittiest, yet honest and soulful performances I’ve ever heard from him.

Riffing on the blues, we hear, “I came home with good intentions about five or six years ago, but my hometown won’t accept me just don’t feel welcome here no more.”

What makes the song so powerful is Presley’s voice, attitude, and his interaction with the other musicians. It’s included in this set of songs as after Presley performs a more traditional rendition of “Stranger in My Own Home Town,” he then continues the jam with a few more verses, adding a few choice words and a personal touch all his own.

I won’t spoil it for you here, but Elvis fans will want to listen to this track with urgency. 

Lou Reed, Street Hassle

Originally Published April 18, 2011 on Aquarium Drunkard

Expectations. We all have them, for better or worse, and with music these expectations are often heightened.

Lou Reed was supposed to be the second coming. Based on his Velvet Undergroundgenius, some expected him to be the next “Bob Dylan,” a voice for a new generation, and whileBerlin was strong and Transformer hit on most cylinders, the work Reed put out in the seventies rarely met the expectations of his audience. True, he had his fans, and select songs that could stand up to others of the period, but I think a good portion of his fans expected something else. Then you throw Sally Can’t Dance into the mix, not to mention Metal Machine Music Pt. 1, and it’s just a rebellious slap in the face to “others” expectations. A real punk rock move before punk rock even knew what it was.

I love Lou Reed, and I love most of Reed’s early albums, but I think expectations from others ultimately led to his downward soul searching spiral…that is until he found it with Street Hassle.

Street Hassle is about acceptance and power. It’s Reed finally acknowledging how much a self-parody he had become. With Street Hassle, Reed had finally both recognized and accepted his prior roles, facades and incarnations, and was now willing to face them head on. Simply put, Lou Reed was finally ready to make a “Lou Reed” album.

Street Hassle’s LP cover explains it all, exuding arrogance, confidence, and fear. From the distressed title font letting you know it’s not perfect, that he’s not perfect, to the “self portrait” with the smug shooting star glimmer in his eye. He has a new found realization and acceptance of his own self-destruction with a “fuck you” mentality. And how does he start this battle off…by sacrificing one of his own children, “Sweet Jane.”

The album starts off with remanence chords, immediately providing the listener with a reference point, a familiarity, a sense of, “welcome back.” The lyrics to “Gimmie Some Good Times” begin with Reed having a conversation with, ostensibly, a fan, but I see it more as a conversation with himself:

Hey, if that ain’t the rock ‘n’ roll animal himself, what you doing bro.
(Standing on the corner)
Well, I can see that, what you got in your hand
(Suitcase in my hand)
No, shit, what’s this
(Jack is in his corset, Jane is in her vest)
Fucking faggot junkie
(Jack, sweet Jane, I’m in a rock ‘n’ roll band)
Well, I can see that

Any thoughts about Reed returning, or even possessing the desire to return, to his prior spoils are squashed in this initial exchange. He manages to mock his past in the intro and chooses to start off the LP with a song that slaps back.

The album continues with “Dirt, which could be said to be an exploration of Reed’s own self. The LP’s cover reflects this with the “self portrait;” a perceived image of one’s self. Is this Reed or who Reed wants to be…or have you to believe him to be? With lyrics like…

“It’s been a long time, since I’ve spoken to you.
Was it the right time?
Your current troubles, and you know, they’ll get much worse.
I hope you know how much you enjoy them”
and a “chorus” that uses the famous “I fought the law and the law won”

…it’s almost a realization and recognition of the internal battle, and finally now being able to set the record straight.

While amazing in it’s own right, it’s not nearly as amazing as the album’s centerpiece, the third track, or last track on the A Side. The epic collage, the holy trinity, arguably one of the best songs of the seventies, “Street Hassle.”

The song in which the album takes its title from personifies the cover, the LP, Lou Reed, and underground life on the New York streets during the time. In this one song, Reed creates one of the most brutal, yet beautiful and tender epics of his career. With this one song, Reed returns himself to the poet he has always been. A three part spoken word masterpiece set to music: A. “Waltzing Matilda” B. “Street Hassle, ” and C. “Slipaway.”

In this eleven minute song, Reed describes a woman picking up and paying a male prostitute for sex, A drug dealer’s “monologue” about the death of a woman in his apartment, and finally, a spoken word intro by none other than Bruce Springsteen, ending with “Tramps like us, Baby we were born to pay“, which leads into Reed’s, almost soliloquy like, poem about love and death.

Reoccurring themes set to a simple, yet elegant, musical riff, with a bass line to die for in part C. Truly amazing poetry on any level, and certainly the heir apparent to anything ever released by the Velvet Underground.

If nothing else came from this album, it would be worth it just for that one song, but we also get the politically incorrect gem, “I Wanna Be Black”. With lyrics such as,

“I wanna be black,
wanna be like Martin Luther King,
And get myself shot in the spring,
And lead a whole generation, too,
And fuck up the jews”

Racial stereotypes, middle class white rebellion, and self acknowledgment set to rhythm and blues accompanied by black background singers…I don’t think you get anymore tongue in cheek punk rock than that.

From this point in the LP, Reed continues to interlock his songs. Linking the past with the present with “Real Good Time Together” (a VU cover), the “Shooting Star,” and the blatant “Leave me Alone,” Reed almost creates the perfect concept album, that is, until the upbeat “Wait.” A song that almost second guesses the seven previous tracks. A song that let’s us know he still cares what we think juxtaposed with backing vocals of “disgrace” and “what a waste.” A song that honestly makes a lot of sense here. After the gutters we’ve been dragged through, the pimps, prostitutes, and punks, the things we have seen, there’s still that moment of “wishing that we’d wait.” The vulnerability that was non existent has now shown up, and the Reed of the past, for however brief, asks us to wait.

The first four songs are the real highlights from Street Hassle; the songs that immediately grab your attention and reflect the art of the album’s stark, yet powerful rockstar image. Looking back on Street Hassle I’m reminded how much the LP’s cover art choice made an impact on me; not only by grabbing my attention, but by setting the tone for my expectations. I was not disappointed.

Morsels

Drakkar Sauna: WARS AND TORNADOES

Oh, my…What do you get when you cross the amazing talents of Drakkar Sauna with the songs of country legends The Louvin Brothers (Ira and Charlie Louvin)…you get perfection.

Released on Marriage Records, Drakkar Sauna put forth Wars and Tornadoes: Drakkar Sauna Faithfully Sings Songs of The Louvin Brothers. Easily one of their best releases to date. The reason why you ask; it’s because Drakkar Sauna actually plays this one straight forward, no humor, no wackiness, just pure American Country / Bluegrass backwoods hymns. There is such a devotion here, such a respect level that comes through on these renditions, that you can’t help but get excited and stomp your boot. These songs embrace the true talents of Drakkar Sauna and allow them to shine like never before. Now don’t get me wrong, you know I love Drakkar Sauna and all their releases, but to hear them preform these songs justs lights the kerosene lamp in my soul.

Now some may shy away from this, and it’s kind of bold of Drakkar Sauna to even release this album. I mean, songs about God and religion aren’t flying of the shelves these days, not to mention these are Louvin Brothers songs, and while I love the Louvin Brothers (no pun intended), they are not everybody’s flask of whiskey. All I can say is give it a shot. If you don’t know of the Louvin Brothers yet, but you love Drakkar Sauna, let this be a great introduction to two of country’s godfathers, and vice versa, if you dig the Louvin’s and don’t know Drakkar Sauna, or haven’t really dug their prior material, give this a chance. It’s truly a fantastic LP!

c. January 2009

Forest Fire

I wrote about Forest Fire back in ’06 on TPATS, and to me their sound has changed quite a bit since then. Thankfully someone else with some resources took notice of this band from Brooklyn and released  a cd this past year. The album, Survival, the label, our friends at Cat Bird Records; A perfect fit if you ask me.

I came across Forest Fire like I said in ’06, but it was only because band member Adam Spittler told me about them. I was in contact with him about his side project Black Dragon (which is still phenomenal…I once had hopes of releasing it on the my never created label, oh, how ambitious we were…), but anyway, he told me to check out his other band, which happened to be Forrest Fire. That was all she wrote. I downloaded what tracks I could, back when Myspace let you do so, and have been stuck with those, that is, until Survival.

I was thrilled to see on another blog a mention about Forrest Fire. I was immediately smiling from ear to ear. Finally a proper release! I mean, this is one of those bands that you are literally shocked they don’t have an LP out there. Well they do now, and it’s a good one!

Somewhere between an almost jaded not quite lo-fi rock instrumentation, but a lo-fi rock persona and a broken down fishing cabin out of place in the heart of the city, lives Forest Fire’s Mark Thresher’s urban cowboy voice. Haunting at times, Parsonesque at others. Are they folk, well no, do they have slide guitars and a kind of a “city” folk feel, yes they do. And that’s welcomed with open arms, because these guys pull it off well, but they also can harness soundscapes of electro knob turning fuzz, unusual percussion, acoustic guitars, slightly out of tune brass, screachable violins, and layers of electronics; Making Forest Fire a “genre” unto themselves.

c. January 2009

Welcome to the Welcome Wagon

Poetry may be the only way to describe the music that couple, Reverend Thomas Vito Aiuto and his wife Monique make on their Self Titled release for Asthmatic Kitty. With the help of Sufjan Stevens, Welcome to the Welcome Wagon unlocks the doors of their sanctuary and invites the public in to be washed over with their simple hymns of love for God and for each other. Pre-album, I picture these two around a fire place, on a rug, in a humble home, with Vito strumming a swapmeet guitar and Monique tapping out time on the table, singing out old time hymns and smiles from ear to ear.

c.December 2008