I grew up in Los Angeles so I am well aware of the fascination it holds for many people. "Swimmin' pools; movie stars," an all that. But there's also the desert landscape not far away and the endless tract and bungalow- style homes in suburb after blessed suburb from Lawndale to Arleta; and from Encino to Montebello.
The subterranean life of L.A. is well known to artists, musicians, film makers. The shiny part readily visible, burning in the sun...underneath -- Bukowski World where some of the strangest ideas, spirits and stories you could imagine remain untouched and un-mined.
I felt that subconscious vibe of L.A. in places like the bar at the Burbank Airport or the Zebra Room in the South Bay where I grew up. The sprawling nightmare that is L.A. remains attractive to creative minds seeking to kiss the dark underbelly of a place with no reason to exist.
There is a creative mind who apparently moved to Los Angeles from her home in Missouri. She calls herself "Little Lonely," and I've just gotten a taste of her first recording of the same name. I want to tell you how I feel about it.
Like so many from other parts, restless artists like Little Lonely change their name. In Missouri, I gather she was known as Julie Cain.
Miss Cain is indeed an indie/alt.country master. I encourage you to become acquainted with her. In the time she has been in L.A., she has deeply imbibed its culture. She is drunk on the city and its environs.
The music she and her first-rate band make consists of elements of noir (Listen to Top Stair and Jesus is in My Swimming Pool); country: (Interstate Hum); and folk rock/singer-songwriter material (All Night, Carnival King and Penny's First Available). As Miss Cain says: "Sometimes we rock, sometimes we twang..."
Little Lonely is able to blend all these flavors into music that is both familiar and yet is not found in nature. It's not trance or shoegaze, but it is music for, and of, the subconscious.
It's a certainty Miss Cain picked up bits and pieces from the taverns of Hollywood, Silver Lake and Highland Park -- her phrasing and lyrics do suggest a Rilo Kiley/Jenny Lewis sensibility. But Little Lonely's offering is more stripped down, and ruefully existential.
Also -- and this is something really attractive to me -- this band celebrates obscurity. The song Buttonwillow says it all. Pure atmosphere; lyrics that suggest a place where hope comes in very small doses, like shots of cheap brown well liquor. The final three minutes of the song are a musical excursion into a sweet oblivion that is sublime. I hope I am hearing it as I lay dying.
I've been to Buttonwillow. It's only about 30-minutes from Oildale by car. Coincidence? I think not. Oildale is probably more violent than Buttonwillow, but the two towns represent the same thing: desperation.
Since I was a little kid, I wondered what the lives of people who lived in those places were like? Out there in Visalia, Fresno, Porterville, Madera, or Earlimart. How did the inhabitants there live? How did they make a living?
And what were their families and relationships like? Did they enjoy being away from the urban landscape and it's pleasures and entertainments? Or, do they long for it?
Why, for God's sake, were they in the Twilight Zone of Buttonwillow, or Oildale or Earlimart? Why don't I live in one of those places? I feel my desperation qualifies me for citizenship.
The only other band I've ever heard that could match Little Lonely for this obscurity value is Richmond Fontaine, from Portland. They sang a lot about Winnemucca and Reno. But Miss Cain now has the mantle for me.
Why do I care about obscure places? To this day, I couldn't say. But Little Lonely is shedding some light on that for me.
Pick up Miss Cain's record. She's going to create an audience. But for now, she can be just ours.
https://www.reverbnation.com/littlelonely
www.littlelonely.com
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Oildale / Blog
Hail The Monkees!
The Monkees hit 50 in September. There will be a final show by Michael Nesmith, a true musician from Texas, on Sept. 16. The show will be his absolute last according to MN. And I love his quote in Salon: "I am bringing Gretsch, my beautiful, intelligent blonde to help me, and it looks like I'll make it once again." Mike, we're in love with the same girl! Godspeed man, you're a big influence.
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Review of "Little Lonely"
I grew up in Los Angeles so I am well aware of the fascination it holds for many people. "Swimmin' pools; movie stars," an all that. But there's also the desert landscape not far away and the endless tract and bungalow- style homes in suburb after blessed suburb from Lawndale to Arleta; and from Encino to Montebello.
The subterranean life of L.A. is well known to artists, musicians, film makers. The shiny part readily visible, burning in the sun...underneath -- Bukowski World where some of the strangest ideas, spirits and stories you could imagine remain untouched and un-mined.
I felt that subconscious vibe of L.A. in places like the bar at the Burbank Airport or the Zebra Room in the South Bay where I grew up. The sprawling nightmare that is L.A. remains attractive to creative minds seeking to kiss the dark underbelly of a place with no reason to exist.
There is a creative mind who apparently moved to Los Angeles from her home in Missouri. She calls herself "Little Lonely," and I've just gotten a taste of her first recording of the same name. I want to tell you how I feel about it.
Like so many from other parts, restless artists like Little Lonely change their name. In Missouri, I gather she was known as Julie Cain.
Miss Cain is indeed an indie/alt.country master. I encourage you to become acquainted with her. In the time she has been in L.A., she has deeply imbibed its culture. She is drunk on the city and its environs.
The music she and her first-rate band make consists of elements of noir (Listen to Top Stair and Jesus is in My Swimming Pool); country: (Interstate Hum); and folk rock/singer-songwriter material (All Night, Carnival King and Penny's First Available). As Miss Cain says: "Sometimes we rock, sometimes we twang..."
Little Lonely is able to blend all these flavors into music that is both familiar and yet is not found in nature. It's not trance or shoegaze, but it is music for, and of, the subconscious.
It's a certainty Miss Cain picked up bits and pieces from the taverns of Hollywood, Silver Lake and Highland Park -- her phrasing and lyrics do suggest a Rilo Kiley/Jenny Lewis sensibility. But Little Lonely's offering is more stripped down, and ruefully existential.
Also -- and this is something really attractive to me -- this band celebrates obscurity. The song Buttonwillow says it all. Pure atmosphere; lyrics that suggest a place where hope comes in very small doses, like shots of cheap brown well liquor. The final three minutes of the song are a musical excursion into a sweet oblivion that is sublime. I hope I am hearing it as I lay dying.
I've been to Buttonwillow. It's only about 30-minutes from Oildale by car. Coincidence? I think not. Oildale is probably more violent than Buttonwillow, but the two towns represent the same thing: desperation.
Since I was a little kid, I wondered what the lives of people who lived in those places were like? Out there in Visalia, Fresno, Porterville, Madera, or Earlimart. How did the inhabitants there live? How did they make a living?
And what were their families and relationships like? Did they enjoy being away from the urban landscape and it's pleasures and entertainments? Or, do they long for it?
Why, for God's sake, were they in the Twilight Zone of Buttonwillow, or Oildale or Earlimart? Why don't I live in one of those places? I feel my desperation qualifies me for citizenship.
The only other band I've ever heard that could match Little Lonely for this obscurity value is Richmond Fontaine, from Portland. They sang a lot about Winnemucca and Reno. But Miss Cain now has the mantle for me.
Why do I care about obscure places? To this day, I couldn't say. But Little Lonely is shedding some light on that for me.
Pick up Miss Cain's record. She's going to create an audience. But for now, she can be just ours.
https://www.reverbnation.com/littlelonely
www.littlelonely.com
Reply
Caetano Veloso and Gilberto Gil at the Paramount, Oakland, CA
The first time I ever heard Caetano Veloso, was when he sang the beautiful Mexican lullaby "Cucurrucucu Paloma," in the Almodovar movie "Talk to Her." The level of sensuality of that scene was off the charts. The color, the music, the faces of the actors. I was hooked. Check it out here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1emgUdD3_pE
Caetano Veloso is the Bob Dylan of Brazil. His leftist politics landed him and his long time musical collaborator Gilberto Gil in exile during the Brazilian coup of 1964 and, after a time in prison and house arrest in Brazil, they moved to London until their return to Brazil in 1972.
They are credited with starting the Tropicalia music movement that blended pop with rock and avant-garde music of the time. The right-wing government banned their songs and shows, and of course, eventually arrested them as "degenerate" artists.
Seeing these legends in a fairly small venue playing only acoustic guitars and singing was a delight for me. My wife, a Carioca, says their voices have been killed by age, but I thought their aged tones gave shape and additional expression to their music, mostly sung in Portuguese.
Musicians whose voices "get old" and find they can't nuance their music or create the same old signature voicing have a better chance to let the content of their compositions come forward and forge a deeper appreciation among their loyal audiences.
I have seen Veloso twice now. He strikes me as one of the most thoughtful musicians in the world. When he comes to the Bay Area, the entire Brazilian community comes to greet him and get an ear full of home. My wife runs into old friends and we have a great evening of bonding.
Brazilian, and by extension, Portuguese culture is distinct in the Latin world. It seems somehow, older, more ancient. Brazilian music, like Tropicalia or Chorinho, really echo the Portuguese Fado that drifts out onto the windy, cobblestone streets of Lisbon.
I mean, I'm just a Zen cowboy from California. What do I know about Portuguese or Brazilian culture? Nothing really, but my ears always know what they like and they like Tropicalia, Fado, and Chorinho.
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Eight Belles - Rickshaw Stop, San Francisco, Dec. 10, 2015
Jessi Phillips and Henry Nagle have been quietly exploring old and new ground as an alt.Americana duo since they formed Eight Belles in 2010 in Oakland. I’m glad to report, after seeing them perform at The Rickshaw Stop in San Francisco last week, that Ms. Phillips’ voice is now officially mellowed to perfection. They dropped a new CD and put on a lush musical show to celebrate at one of San Francisco’s great rooms.
The pair released and performed the entirety of their new self-titled 10-song CD before an appreciative bridge and tunnel crowd, most of whom came over from the East Bay where the band is adored. Considering the rain that night, you had to admire the band’s ability to pull a fairly large crowd of loyalists.
I’ve been following Eight Belles for several years now and my experience has been that while Ms. Phillips’ and Mr. Nagles’ output is infrequent, it is always worth the wait; and this CD is no exception. Their last CD, Girls Underground, had a rich variety of material on it, including an amazing, obscure Richard Hawley song “The Streets Are Ours.” Don’t ask me how Ms. Phillips pulls off the pronunciation of “are” and “ours” in that song, but trust me, she does.
I still listen to Girls Underground - a lot. This is because the song craft impressed me and highlights the fact that this band really knows its way around an arrangement and a lyric. Take the tune Nolchi on GU, for example, the lyric is so spare but very telling. “The holes in the wall say you love me most of all.” That is a very compact line and says so much. Ms. Phillips’ really wants you to use your imagination to fill in the gaps.
The new CD is very solid and another sonic treat. Noir-ish and emotional, the songs are mined out of the same rich vein that she and Mr. Nagle have been excavating since they formed the band in 2010.
As I mentioned above, Ms. Phillips’ voice has mellowed to the point of pure grace. Her phrasing suggests retro hit making in the radio tradition of Patsy Cline. I can easily imagine listening to the car radio in the 1950s or 1960s and hearing Ms. Phillips’ unmistakable voice and pulling over at the local Woolworth’s to buy the 45.
Ms. Phillips is approachable but there is a real sophistication in her delivery. Clearly, she is mastering the craft of voice. She is a vocal aesthetician and it’s an awesome thing to hear.
At the Rickshaw stop, her talent was showcased with guest musicians and singers from their musical partners for the evening, Cave Clove, including Katie Clover. She and the other backup singers were super careful not to step on Ms. Phillips’ musical toes, but their care was rewarded with a great blend of vocal nuance. There was a reverence hanging over the proceedings that made it feel a little like church (Catholic, not Pentecostal).
One flaw was that Mr. Nagle’s very lyrical guitar playing was buried in the mix to the point of not being able to hear it very well (at least, I could not). This was disappointing for me because he follows the melody line of Ms. Phillip’s’ voice so perfectly, adding relevant, meaningful touches to serve the songs. I’m a fan of Mr. Nagle’s playing: it’s some of the most tasteful and artful guitar filled with voicing, couplets, and a lot of well-placed manual tremolo.
Ms. Phillips’ is not flashy, overtly sexy or even energetic. But she serves up a feast for the ears and her voice is one that should be in as many ears as possible.
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Review of EP “Save Me a Seat” by Kate Burkart
Good music takes you places. Kate Burkart, a San Francisco Americana artist, makes good music.
There are mysteries involved here. How does a vibration, an oscillation, taken into one’s ear lead to tears, a smile or a quickening pitter-patter of the heart? These are some of the questions I ask when I listen to the work of Ms. Burkart.
The sound of her voice takes me back to about the age of 10 when I was being driven home by someone’s mom from a tortuous summer camp in the mountains near Los Angeles. The voice came over the car radio clear as a bell, singing “That is why, all the boys in town…follow you…all around.” It was “Close to You,” by the Carpenters.
The lyric? Yehhh – but that creamy, low-register voice was calling to me like a siren. Yes, I was seduced by Karen Carpenter – at age 10. Perverse, I know. Ms. Burkart channels Karen Carpenter, and the seduction is the same, only now I have a deeper appreciation for the female contralto. THAT VOICE! It produces the same pre-adolescent emotion in me, but adds a dose of lyrical imagery and intellectual stimulation that lets me use my imagination; which in turn, forms an emotional connection between me and her; artist and listener. This is music magic. It is what creates an audience.
On her new recording, a mid-tempo collection of six songs, Ms. Burkart’s vibrato is singular and under perfect control. She wields it like a baroque painter with a fine brush accenting an image or a line. The guitars are tuned down and the baritone atmosphere of the whole thing gives the recordings depth and majesty.
For me, the first two songs, “Save Me a Seat” and “Enough,” are high alt.americana art; dreamscapes with jangling guitars and the most simple but inviting melodies that Ms. Burkart elevates with THAT VOICE. These two songs continue the mood she produced in her first recording “Faith to Fall,” and particularly on the song “Shades of Grey.”
These three songs – “Save Me a Seat,” “Enough” and “Shades of Grey” – form a triumvirate of Americana perfection. Diamond-perfect gems. Musical spaces where I can go for inspiration. They even sometimes produce serious bouts of synesthesia, a confusion of senses where colors and sounds are undifferentiated.
In this EP's instrumentation, I can hear strains of REM, the Moody Blues, Buddy Miller, the Beatles, Mazzy Star…you get the gist. Ms. Burkhart’s producer and guitarist, James DePrato supports and compliments the atmosphere of the recordings. For instance, the tasteful pedal steel break on Save Me a Seat and the bluegrass filigree in Misery and Music, a clever, barroom sing-along that I can relate to and that includes tempo changes to keep the ear interested.
The other two songs – “Lost and Found,” a portrait of emotional courage with nice chord changes – and “The Simple Things,” a rueful, introspective lullaby/ballad about appreciating the things that sustain you – hold up very well and provide different canvases for THAT VOICE.
In fact, I think The Simple Things proves that Ms. Burkart should consider a side-business as a professional lullaby singer. She could charge hefty fees to sleepless startup executives with sleepless startup families in the Mission District to sing them all to sleep, not out of boredom, but because THAT VOICE produces reverie.
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Laura Benitez and the Heartache
Dang, I had never been to Armando's in Martinez, and not long ago I took in a great show with Laura Benitez and the Heartache. The band includes a former musician colleague of mine -- Ted O'Connell on bass. Ted's bass skills have become really serous since last I saw him and in fact the band was going to play a gig in Nashville the very next week. The show was great. Bob Spector (Spector the Collector) on guitar and the group was missing its pedal player, so it was alotta Bob that night. But he plowed through his own solos AND the steel breaks like a trooper with beautiful, twangy textures.
Ms. Benitez herself is a magnetic presence and has that iconic rock-a-billy look down! Her songs are well constructed, her voice is beautiful...she's the main attraction and yet, she's grateful to have real instrumental and vocal talent backing her up.
The show, while laid back, had good energy and even with a brand new drummer in his first gig with LBATH, kept the engine running smoothly.
About Armando's: Its not a bar. It serves only beer and wine and it charges higher covers so it can make a little money because it won't stay open on the bar take. It's on Buena Vista street in Martinez, the CoCoCounty seat, just off of the entrance to the Marina on the Carquinez strait. Amtrack trains roll by right behind the place and provide a nice backdrop when the music's not thumpin'.
Ted told me that the people who own the establishment are just interested in giving local bands a place to showcase their talent, sell their merch and have fun along with the locals. I'm so glad they're here. I'll be going back -- a lot! Discovering this band and Armando's was really gratifying. Perhaps I'll get up on that stage with my pedal steel pal Mr. Newbery one of these days...if I can finish the last three songs I'm writing that is...check this place out folks and be sure to see Laura Benitez and the Heartache when you can.
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Junior Brown Mashes it Up at Freight & Salvage - March 24, 2015
Junior Brown is a total show off, but he has the chops to justify a little arrogance.
At F&S last Tuesday, he entertained a full house for a couple of hours with NO breaks between songs. Song after song just coming at you. Very little banter, and when there was, it was during a song. This Americana master just spent the evening kicking ass on his "guitsteel" doubleneck guitar.
Dude is amazingly versatile and fuses literally almost every genre of American and popular music from many different decades -- country, jazz, surf, rock, rock-a-billy, Hawaiian, western swing and a hint of cowpunk -- all mashed together, often in ONE damn song!
The old ax slinger really pushes the boundaries of melody and rhythm with his maniacal stage presence. And, I can't say enough about his killer baritone voice. His guitar dynamics are a set of tricks he's obviously developed over his long career. Things like jacking the low E string up and down to produce an unexpected bottoming out sound, or using the steel guitar to imitate a car horn or a human scream.
JB loves noir-ish pulp fiction music that manifests a dark streak even as he croons novelty songs and makes you laugh. He even looks like a down-and-out detective or lawyer from Houston in the 1930s.
My only critique is that brown sets up two very powerful Fender Twin amps and turns the treble and reverb on both of them up to 10. His control of the volume pedal is a little sketchy and volume got so out of hand that the F&S staff started passing out earplugs and the first two rows emptied. I could feel a trickle of blood come out of my one good ear. His rhythm section, consisting of his wife, Tanya (who sang only one song-I wanted to hear more) a bassist with an acoustic stand up and a drummer with a skimpy cocktail kit, was almost inaudible. Not sure why they were even there. He could have set up a beat machine and had the same effect.
Be that as it may, you can't go wrong with this guy. He brings along with him the ghosts of Link Wray, Dick Dale, Gene Vincent, Bob Wills and a host of other musicians living and dead.
Go see this rascal because he is the living manifestation of the hard, undiluted core of American Rock n' Roll...but bring your earplugs.
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Bow Thayer
Here's a great song.... https://youtu.be/6zl_QLo9xwE
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Upcoming...
...I'm going to see Junior Brown at Freight and Salvage next month (Mar. 24). Watch for my review. Also, I've been getting into Sarah Jarosz of late. Turns out our birthday is the same day. Wish that meant I had her talent, but alas...
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Hot Tuna, Fillmore, Jan. 3 2015
As for Hot Tuna (never liked that band name), they were equally amazing but for different reasons. I went to the show because I figured it's maybe my last chance to see Jorma Kaukonen and Jack Casady because I'd never seen these legends of the San Francisco sound live. These folks and others will be gone in short order, so I thought I ought to get a glimpse of them in their natural habitat (the Fillmore) before they become dust in the wind. Kaukonen is a master of rural blues, the kind that is finger picked and played on acoustic guitars sometimes in open tunings. He veers into jazz and world music and creates a sonic panorama of color, landscape and texture. Casady's bass playing was melodic and steady. His solo's were playful, whimsical...entertaining. It was a pleasure for me to see these guys. I revered the Jefferson Airplane, the Dead, New Riders, Quicksilver, Big Bro, Blue Cheer, CCR and all the rest, but I was too young to see them when they were the leading bands of their time. Now, much later in life, I'm getting to hear them with many years of experience and skill that is unmatched... ...I keep waiting for the greats to pass. It won't be long before we will be reading the obits of Bob Dylan, Neil Young, David Crosby, Emmylou Harris, Linda Rondstadt, John Fogerty, Paul McCartney, Steve Miller, Steve Stills, Keith Richards, Bob Weir, Roger McGuinn, David Nelson, and yes, Jorma and Jack and so many of the great musicians of the 60s and 70s. Who will replace them? Who will create that kind of energy ever again? These are historic figures of a generation that actually did something to change the politics and culture of the nation. How did these guys come up with such anthemic music that STUCK in your head? Was it the acid? the weed? It was a time when everything lined up, all the planets, the ducks, everything. These are people who were touched and used by the Muse for Her purposes and they came through for Her -- and us. Thank the Muse for all of this...She is the urge to create.
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