Archive for March, 2009

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The Bobby Wilson Chronicles: Holding Steady with Jack Daniels

Posted in Essays, Music, The Bobby Wilson Chronicles with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 31, 2009 by jnagle4

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It happened again. For the second week in a row I had finagled my way into a party sponsored by a prominent brand of liquor. Two weeks ago I found out The Hold Steady was playing a free gig at the Recher. I initially wasn’t going to go based upon my experience at Ram’s Head last summer. The band was awesome, but the crowd was really violent and the Recher doesn’t have the safety of a balcony. I changed my mind when I realized that it would probably be the only chance I’d have to see the band in such an intimate venue. Besides, how can you say no to a free show?

Getting tickets was easier said than done. I wasn’t a member of The Hold Steady mailing list, nor did I post on their message board. The only way you could get tickets from the Recher box office was to show up in person. This is a problem if you don’t drive. I had one way of getting tickets, and it was a long shot. My dad is an attorney who works in Towson, not far from the Recher. He could get tickets, but I didn’t think he’d be able to make it time. Animal Collective announced a surprise show at the Ottobar a few weeks before, and the show sold out in a matter of minutes. Still, it was worth a shot. I called my dad and he said that he’d do what he could.

I have been going to shows at the Recher since I was fifteen-year old metalhead, so I had that working in my favor. My dad went to the Rec Room and ran into Brian Recher, who told him that the tickets weren’t available yet. My dad mentioned my name and I was in like Flint.

My dad’s word is his bond, but I still wanted to talk to Mr. Recher myself so he wouldn’t forget about me. I went into Towson around 2:00 and got to the Rec Room around 2:30. Good to his word, he remembered the conversation with my dad. He called over Buddy, the manager of the theatre, who I have quite a rapport with.

“Hey Bud, I promised John’s father that I’d get him a ticket for the show tonight,” Mr. Recher said.

“Well you’ll just have to tell John’s father that it was impossible,” Buddy said, jokingly.

“Well my word trumps all else, since it’s my venue.”

“The problem is that we have no actual tickets yet, but I’ll write you a voucher. You’ll get in.”

“Thanks Bud, you always take care of me,” I said.

“Whatever. Just no naked wheelchair rides OK?”

Buddy tore off a guest check and wrote out: “OK, one Jack Daniels ticket. Buddy.”

This ticket looked totally bogus, which is what made it so great. As I was putting my “ticket” in my wallet, I ran into Bobby, the drummer for the Hold Steady. I asked him if we could do an interview at some point and he happily obliged. This was a good day.

Doors didn’t open until 8, so I had plenty of time to kill. I went to the mall and grabbed a slice of pizza and a Dew. I bought a physical copy of the new Mastodon record, which came with a free t-shirt. I went to the library and borrowed a bunch of CDs that I would never actually buy, but wouldn’t mind having on my computer. I listened to Night Ranger’s “Sister Christian” and pretended to play Brad Gillis’ guitar solo. He still wails man, he still wails.

When I was finished motoring, I went back to the Recher. I expected to see a line around the block, but found only three fans. To my surprise, it was the exact same group I met last summer. Brendan, Emily and Kim are way more hardcore than I will ever be. We hung out under the marquee as the wind began to blow. Franz stopped by to say hello and also promised me an interview. We were joined by a few more people, but were surprised that the line wasn’t longer.

As the hour approached, the staff rolled out the red carpet and set up the velvet rope. We were clearly VIPs, like J-Lo, or Brad Pitt or Scott Baio. They sent out a dude with a guitar to serenade us with some cover songs. “Livin’ on a Prayer,” (without the talkbox), GNR’s version of “Knocking on Heaven’s Door” (the main difference is the “wah” at the end of every word), and “Sweet Caroline” (complete with “bum bum bahhs”). The Jack Daniels girls graced us with their presence and handed out the proper tickets. We all filled them out even though it was impossible to write on the laminated surface. When everyone had received their ticket, they let us inside.

You haven’t lived until you’ve faked your way into a liquor party. The moment we went in, a free t-shirt was bestowed upon us. There was free food, free booze, and free hats. I committed a cardinal sin within 30 seconds of entry. I went to the bar and ordered an amaretto and Coke and was informed that this was a Jack Daniels party. I hate Jack Daniels. It’s like drinking motor oil to me, which is the primary reason that I will never realize my dream of being in a sleaze-metal band. I reluctantly ordered a Jack and Coke, because it was worth another try. I took a sip and made a face. It was still awful. Oh well, it was free.

J. Roddy Walston and the Business were the openers. I’d interviewed them for Metromix a couple months ago and was anxious to see them. They lived up to their reputation. They really were “four young Elvises who never discovered downers.” It was the perfect way to get in the mood for The Hold Steady’s verbose story songs about party pits, Adderall and constructive summers.

The biggest difference between the show at Ram’s Head and the Recher show last night was the crowd. When the opening band left the stage at Ram’s Head, I felt a sense of impending doom. I could feel the crush of the crowd behind me, and things went downhill from there. This time around, I had lots of space. This was a Jack Daniels party, so there were a lot of people from the liquor industry there. However, it never felt like a totally corporate show. People clearly knew who The Hold Steady were.

The band hit the stage around 10 and they kicked ass. That’s a phrase that’s thrown around entirely too much these days, for things that don’t necessarily warrant it. For instance, “I saw Hinder last night, they kicked ass,” or “Man, that new John Cena movie kicks ass and take names.” I’d like to come up with something more clever, but it’s the most accurate description I can think of at 2 AM.

The thing that strikes me about the Hold Steady is the passion. I’ve read so many columns about how music is dying. As a music journalist, I’ve written a bunch of them. Watching The Hold Steady last night, I realized that music isn’t dying. Fandom isn’t dying, but the industry is. Why is the music industry dying? Because instead of catering to a group of kids who are willing to drive eighteen hours from Minneapolis to see a band in a tiny club, they went after the casual music fan. They fucked up, because if they catered to the fans that I met last night, they wouldn’t be in the situation they are in.

Craig Finn told us to stay positive and left the stage. I ran into Brendan, who was now drenched in sweat. We both had a killer time in the party pit. I hung out for a bit and got Franz’s e-mail. The band signed my copy of Separation Sunday, and then I left. I went to the 7-11, where I bought a bag of Goldfish and a bottle of Dew. I got home in time for the rerun of Breaking Bad. Life was good.

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Blue October: Approaching Normal

Posted in Music, Reviews with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 28, 2009 by jnagle4

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There is no nice way to put this. Approaching Normal is an awful, awful record. Nobody loves sad bastard music more than I do. I love depressing records about breaking up with girls and feeling down and all that emotional bullshit. As much as I love all that stuff, there is a limit. Blue October has pushed me to that limit. Approaching Normal is an hour of bad teenage poetry set to mediocre post-grunge. Lead singer and primary songwriter Justin Furstenfeld needs to buck up.

Justin Furstenfeld is persecuted. He’s persecuted by the world, by his girl, but most of all by himself. The entire record is Furstenfeld feeling sorry about his lot in life. He claims to be approaching normalcy, but he’s still haunted by his demons. The album begins with “Weight of the World,” which begins with hotel security knocking on Furstenfeld’s door. He wakes up and finds the mirror broken, his skin cut up and his lip busted, and that’s just the first minute! Things continue to get worse, punctuated by Furstenfeld’s anguished screams.

Furstenfeld actually has a decent voice, it’s quite emotive. The emotion is undercut by Steve Lillywhite’s production, which is clean, spotless and absolutely perfect. This album would benefit from a raw, messy production because it would highlight the band’s strengths. Because the production is clean, the flaws are there for all to see: The maudlin lyrics, the boring riffs, “quirky” sound effects. It sounds like pretty much every other mainstream rock record of the late 2000s. It’s surprising, considering that Lilywhite was behind the boards for U2’s The Joshua Tree, one of the best sounding records of all time.

I don’t doubt Justin Furstenfeld’s sincerity. I don’t think he’s putting on an act, and his singing does have a cathartic quality. But the gloom never stops, and it becomes overwhelming. If Furstenfeld was a good writer, like Elvis Costello or Bob Dylan, it would be palatable. Unfortunately Approaching Normal is saddled by ridiculous images of kangaroo tears and jump ropes. Furstenfeld couples painfully obvious similes and metaphors (“Life is like a jump rope, it goes up and down”), with hilariously direct lines (“You are stealing food off my family’s plate!”) No cliché goes unturned here. There’s a children’s choir tacked onto the end of “Jump Rope.” That’s certainly never been done before. Even when Furstenfeld is trying to be light, his writing is heavy handed. The main melody of “Blue Skies” is lifted from Bobby Vinton’s 1964 hit “Mr. Lonely.”

The key to writing a good, depressing album is to punctuate it with moments of levity. The Smiths were masters of this technique. The highlight of The Queen is Dead is “There is a Light That Never Goes Out.” The sadness of that song was offset by lighter numbers like “Frankly Mr. Shankly.” Furstenfeld is so utterly humorless that he brings the listener down with him. He’s trying to be an uplifting presence, but there is nothing uplifting about his guttural screams. Even when he’s trying to sound happy, he sounds anguished. After listening to this record several times, I hope he’s found a decent analyst.

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Mastodon: Crack the Skye

Posted in Music, Reviews with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 27, 2009 by jnagle4

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In the beginning of the 21st century, it looked like the mighty beast called heavy metal might have finally died. Distorted guitars and soloing were replaced in favor of drop-d tuning and DJ scratching. The New Wave of British Heavy Metal and Bay Area Thrash movements had peaked long ago. Even Pantera, the saviors of metal in the flannel-clad 1990s, broke up in 2001. The rock snobs had finally gotten their wish, the leviathan had been slain.

However, in the late 2000s, heavy metal is undergoing a rebirth. Down, Trivium, In Flames, Dimmu Borgir, Lamb of God, Testament and even Metallica have released great records. However, Mastodon is head and shoulders above the rest. As of 2009, they are the best heavy metal band on the planet. With Crack the Skye, they have expanded the sonic limits of the genre.

Crack the Skye is hard to define musically. It has elements of traditional metal, thrash, country and progressive rock. Together it forms a magnificent aural assault. The most striking thing about it is just how thick everything sounds. Too many metal records have shallow production, not this one. It’s almost overwhelmingly heavy. The guitars are walls of distorted sludge. Brent Hinds and Bill Kelliher are the perfect duo, with Kelliher handling most of the rhythm and Hinds doing the leads. The riffs range from slow dirges to vicious bursts of thrash. On the opening track, “Oblivion,” Hinds and Kelliner’s guitars call and respond with a slow, gloomy dirge. Just when it seems that the slow dirge will be the theme, they switch it up. The dirge becomes a light speed burst of thrash.

The centerpiece of the album is the four-part cycle “The Czar,” which brings new meaning to the phrase “metal epic.” The first part, “Usurper,” is slow, quiet and mellow. The brief calm is interrupted by the fury of the second part, “Escape.” The band expertly balances intricate guitar solos with slower, more straightforward tandem riffing. After the intensity of “Escape,” the band slows things down again with “Martyr.” “Martyr” may have a slower pace, but it is the heaviest part of the song. The band employs the famous “DUH-DUH-DUH” of the Bay Area Thrash bands. They balance the bludgeoning power of the riff with the most complex guitar solos on the album. The solos run the gamut from the twin-guitar attack of Mercyful Fate, to the more dexterous two-hand tapping style. The final movement, “Spiral” simply fades out with a serene organ.

Crack the Skye is a hard record to review, because there are so many intricacies. It’s almost impossible to encapsulate in 500 words. If you are a metal fan, this is a must have. If you only buy one metal record a year, this is the one. Mastodon has always been an ambitious band, but this record they have outdone themselves. It’s not very often that you find such an intelligent album that still manages to rip your face off. It’s the kind of record that makes you wanna yell “METALLLLL!” really loud.  That’s about the highest compliment I can give.

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The Decemberists: The Hazards of Love

Posted in Music, Reviews with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 26, 2009 by jnagle4

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The rock opera has made a significant comeback in the 2000s. It’s an odd phenomenon, almost as a reaction to the simplicity of the grunge era. A rock opera can be an amazing journey or it can be nothing but pretention and bad poetry. Either way, it’s an incredible risk. With their fifth album, The Hazards of Love, The Decemberists officially throw their hat into the rock opera ring.

When most bands say they are making a rock opera, it’s usually to give their concept album a dash of high art. The Hazards of Love actually sounds like an opera. There are several recurring motifs and musical themes. The band returns to these themes to set the pace of the story, as well as move it along.

The storyline in a rock opera is usually convoluted, confusing and pretentious, and The Hazards of Love continues the tradition. Here’s the basic story, or at least what I could figure out. Margaret (voiced by Becky Stark of Lavender Diamond) is in love with a shape-shifter from the woods named William (voiced by Decemberists frontman and primary songwriter Colin Molloy). Margaret becomes pregnant with William’s child and goes on a quest in the woods to find him. Meanwhile the Forest Queen (voiced by Shara Worden) and her evil knave become jealous and threaten the couple’s happiness. Got it? Me neither.

Colin Molloy is a great songwriter. His writing is personal and evocative with just the right amount of drama. All of this is lost in the muck of prog rock. It’s really weird to hear Jimmy Page-like guitar riffing on a Decemberists album. It doesn’t feel like a Decemberists record at all. Halfway through, I thought I was listening to Rush or something.

The Hazards of Love’s biggest problem is also its greatest asset. The band fully committed to the idea of opera. The production is huge and bombastic. There are harpsichords, string sections, keyboards and mounds of guitars. The arrangements never sound too busy, and you can actually isolate each instrument. There are some really great melodies, especially in the “Hazards of Love” movement. Molloy’s acoustic guitar is simple and intricate. He plays with great taste and care. That’s what is so endearing about this record. Even though it never entirely works, it was a labor of true love. Not many bands have the balls to completely go outside of themselves, which the Decemberists have done here.

It’s always hard to review a rock opera. They are so complex and so intricate that it’s hard to tackle them in a few days. Maybe The Hazards of Love will age well, like Lou Reed’s 1973 opus, Berlin. Maybe I need to give it a few more spins. Maybe I’m missing something. After listening to it nonstop for three days, I am left puzzled and confused. I admire the band for having such vision and ambition. However, every great musical idea on this record gets swallowed up by the story. This album was done with the best of intentions, but unfortunately the good intentions are masked by flawed execution.

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Interview: Butch Walker

Posted in Butch Walker, Interviews, Music with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 25, 2009 by jnagle4

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How’s the tour going so far?

It’s going really well. I really couldn’t ask for more. I am finally making money from touring and the fan base is bigger.  But the main one is my band is insanely good. I have the lineup I have always wanted. Really good singers. Everyone is a singer in their own bands, so that makes harmonies a big fat party.

You’ve written a lot of songs, do you have a basic idea of what your setlist will be before you embark?  Does it change every night?  How do you balance new songs with older songs?

I’m playing a lot from the new album but some older material too. I change up the set every night and have my band sing parts that I’d usually sing and the crowd loves it.

You played “Here Comes the…” on Ellen a few weeks ago, which was your solo television debut.  What was it like playing to an audience that wasn’t your crowd?  Did you feel hindered by the three and a half minute format?

The appearance led to a shitload of album sales, so it was cool to do.  Ellen was awesome. Plus Alecia and I are like besties and I loved being able to perform with her. I did cut a little from the front of the song, but it still sounded cool to me.

You’ve worked with Pink quite a bit, both as a producer and a duet partner.  What do you like best about working with her?  Why did you choose her to be your duet partner for “Here Comes the…?”

When she first heard the song we weren’t sure it was gonna be on the album, but she told me, “If it does make it I wanna sing it with you.” So we recorded it.

Sycamore Meadows came after one of the worst events of your life, the wildfire that destroyed your home.  Did you find it easier to write after that happened, or did it take a while?

The flood gates opened. I had some material written, but I felt like I had really said it all in my songs. It’s also just a natural progression of who I am and where I am musically.

One of the things that I found remarkable about the album is that while it was introspective, it was never depressing.  How did you manage to write about such a tragic event without self-pity?

I didn’t want the whole album to be depressing or one sound. We know those types of albums and I know better to create that. Plus I didn’t feel all that down after the fires. It was kind of like, “ok i didn’t need all that stuff anyway.” Now I’m back to living with more basics and it feels good.

Was “Song for the Metalheads” meant to be serious or ironic?

Serious. It’s for all the people who think they’ll come to my shows to hear some heavy shit being played.

You’ve embraced modern technology like Myspace, MP3s and Friends or Enemies, but your records also have an old-school feel.  Do you prefer the new technology to going to a record store and buying a physical product?

I’ve always collected records and I love the sound that they play. They sound way better than mp3s, but I’m realistic and have always embraced the technology end. I have no preference, but I prefer people support as much as they can in whatever format they choose

Myspace organizes a lot of one-off shows.  Just recently the Ben Folds Five reunited.  Do you ever see yourself doing a one-off show with the Marvelous 3?

I’m still good friends with those guys, they sometimes join me on stage in Atlanta. I’m never against anything, but right now it’s not they style for me.

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