Tablet: Goodbye Forever, Once Again.

Finally! Remember that I interviewed Jason last May?

Well, Tablet’s run an abbreviated version of it. I am responsible for the edits and sequence juggling, as you’ll see (with the exception of the embarrassing first-to-third person shift in the first graf, which happened after I filed the edited version, and the subhead – Jason’s not really a busker anymore, I’d say; but there wasn’t anything about that in the material I turned in).

This week, I’ll be running the rest of the full interview here (the first parts are here, here, here, and here) as well as a full transcript of the interview I did with Jason on the phone one morning in early October. The interviews are broken up into seven entries and will run one a day, starting Monday.

Oops, isn’t today Sunday? Ah. Um. Very well. Think of this as Sunday’s entry.

And I’ll see you at Town Hall on November 1.

SJ noted a few days ago that Calvin Johnson of K Records and various influential indie bands such as Beat Happening and the current Dub Narcotic Sound System was in an auto accident recently.

K Records has updates and info about benefits, as, of course, the musicians’ insurance is limited to nonexistent.

<sarcasm>
No, we don’t need universal health-care – why, when independent musicians get hurt badly enough to require hospital time, a few benefits can raise as much as a couple thousand dollars!
</sarcasm>

Jason Webley – Something will fly…: November 1, Town Hall.

Jason’s billing this as his ‘last show,’ who knows what that means. Town Hall holds 900 people, which is just about the number of folks that turned up for last year’s event at the late lamented Paradox. He’s selling advance tix online, so buy now!

My day began with an interview with the boy, who sounded good and in good spirits, but I’ll draw a modest curtain over the content ’til it’s appropriate. I will still be running the rest of the gigantor springtime interview here as promised previously.

Tractor Tavern

Thurs, Oct 16

DANNY BARNES – CD release show
featuring some very, very special guests!
8:30 * $10 adv/$12 dos

From Barnes’ website, regarding the new release, Dirt on the Angel:

Dirt on the Angel.
AVAILABLE NOW
At long last. Two years in the making, Dirt on the Angel. The All Music Guide calls this cd “visionary.”

Big new hot steaming batch of original compositions from Barnes, with covers of Beck’s Loser, Stringbean/Uncle Dave Macon’s Keep My Skillet Good and Greasy, and Ronnie Lane/Ronnie Wood’s Ooh La La.

Performers include Rolling Stones keyboardist Chuck Leavell, American composer and jazz guitar legend Bill Frisell, bluegrass/jazz/classical violinist Darol Anger, and Master of American music Dirk Powell.

Produced by Barnes. Recorded in Seattle WA and Macon GA.

A compendium of American forms, taking poetic inspiration from the writings of Nathaniel Hawthorne, harmonies and rhythms from prerecorded American music, up to and including modern cut and paste techniques. A knowledgeable music fan’s delight. Hear Dirt on the Angel on quality radio stations, and read about it in magazines that have an interest in music.

Barnes + Frisell under Barnes’ direction = happy, happy me, as the equation running the other direction is also highly rewarding.

Some Girls Message Board – Some Girls in Seattle includes some photos of the show, and a kind nod at my preceding post by the photographer, the capable web pro behind the Some Girls website, Stacee Sledge.

The thread includes the set list which helpfully allows me to ID the Mysteries song they played: it was “When I Let my Guard Down.” The same list makes me think I was mistaken in describing the drunk’s shouting – it must have come during the closing “Only Love Can Break Your Heart.”

Vivian and Spence and I walked into the Croc at about 9:30 and saw Lora; we sat down and started chatting. Lora is a funny person and our conversation was predictably amusing. She noted that Freda had been kind enough to put us on the list, which was great news because it meant I could afford the band’s CDs.

As I noted earlier in the week, I have been hearing cuts from the Some Girls record on WFHB via the internet all week long and was really looking forward to seeing them. I learned the afternoon of the show that another Hoosier band, The Pieces (who hail from Indianapolis) were touring with Freda and Juliana’s band.

I knew that Heidi Gluck played bass for both bands and had heard occasional positive things from Indiana about the band, which also features Damon Ashley and Vess Ruhtenberg. I had been acquainted with Vess when he was just finishing high school in Indy via my then girlfriend, and knew that over the years people back home always spoke highly both of Vess and his various projects, among which number the United States Three (whom I’ve never heard, but which was well-loved) and (notably in my recollection) the later incarnations of the Zero Boys.

Now, the Zero Boys were always Paul Mahern’s band, and when I heard a cut or two from the Pieces CD I thought “that sounds like Mahern produced it.” Mahern, who has changed his name to Mahan Kalpa of late to reflect his spiritual practices, has always been a meticulous studio producer; his work on the Zero Boys classic ‘Vicious Circle,’ in combination with his crisp, cerebral, and structural approach to songwriting, are what made the record stand out amid the great hardcore wave of the late eighties.

Paul is also a generous person, who has kindly and repeatedly shared his talents and resources with me and others over the years, from helping find places to stay in Indianapolis when I was a teenager to sharing his knowledge of music and recording techniques. The only other person who comes to mind in terms of considering influence in the development of independent Hoosier music over the past twenty years is, whaddya know, Dale Lawrence.

Mahern (now Kalpa, but I’ll continue to refer to him by his original name in this entry) went on to develop a series of projects that I treasure my recordings of, such as Dandelion Abortion and the Datura Seeds. Eventually, I heard that he’d moved to Bloomington and was working on numerous projects including John Mellencamp’s most recent records, which made sense to me. While Mellencamp’s down-home image was off-putting for me and my pals when we were kids, I’ve re-evaluated his songwriting and feel that it has a great deal in common with the work of other Indiana artists whose work I admire; Paul’s structural sense and his demonstrated ability to develop deep, clean recordings seem to me well-suited to Mellencamp’s material.

So it was a treat to know that I’d be able to renew my acquaintance with Vess, and of course Spencer and Lora (good pals with Vess in high-school – Spencer, if I understand this correctly, either opened for or attended the very first gig of Vess’ very first band, JOT, a band I saw plenty of times around 1984 to 1986) were looking forward to seeing him as well.

We had an enjoyable round of catch up and conversation during which my long-held misconception, that there were TWO Ruhtenbergs, was dispelled. We met Devon, The Pieces‘ drummer, as well. Heidi was around but hanging out with the merch.

Soon enough it was time to head for the showroom, and there’s no other way to put this – we were absolutely BLOWN AWAY. It’s a treat to see an old friend play music. It’s much more of a treat to see an old friend present perfectly constructed songs executed with a level of tightness and deep arrangements that expand the boundaries of pop and rock. It was amazing.

The three musicians frequently provided perfectly executed six-part arrangements; three-part vocal lines on top of discrete rhythm and lead elements. Vess’ years as a journeyman lead player provide his playing with a facilty and fluency, both under vocals and in a solo, which is rare enough; more rare, and more valuable, is the disciplined manner in which he deployed his technique.

The contrast between the chunky, careful structures of the songs themselves and Vess’ concise, atonally expressive, risk-taking leads yielded a tension that was dramatic and emotionally satisfying at the same time.

In certain songs, the close-harmony work recalled the Byrds as the jagged, structural basis of the song proper recalled the early work of Gang of Four. Adding to the interest, the referential qualities of the songs appeared to offer direct acknowledgements to any number of precursor bands, including, yes, the Beatles. For me personally the successful fusion of Gang of Four style atonal and rhythmic qualities with the deeply traditionalist sources that McGuinn and others were mining is a wonderful accomplishment.

The set was enthralling. Highlights included “The Wait,” and Heidi’s performance of “Lauren.” Looking around the woefully underpopulated club, it was clear that the band was truly reaching the audience. The slight, stunned pause before the raucous applause at song’s end was evidence enough. Vess’ relaxed, engaging stage persona was not noticeably different from his amusing table conversation and evident generosity as a performer.

He made a point of stating that they’d be returning to Seattle, which I can’t wait for, and after the show I recall him mentioning that they’d recorded the performance. I was kicking myself for not borrowing Greg’s minidisc recorder during the whole set, and hope that I’ll be able to lay hands on the audio of the show.

We missed the first couple songs of Some Girls, talking to Vess in the bar (where he shared the sad news that original Zero Boys guitarist Terry Howe had passed away) but scurried back to the showroom when we realized they’d started.

It was fun to see the women playing; I’ve always enjoyed Freda’s drums, and I knew, as well, that the songs they were set to perform included many that she’d helped to write or written entire. The exposure to the record I had via WFHB was a real bonus; and when they played a Mysteries of Life song, which I sadly forget the name of, (UPDATE: it was “When I Let My Guard Down”) I shouted out for more, and was most surprised when another audience member echoed my call.

We introduced ourselves and I gave him a card. He attended school in Bloomington, stayed there for a year thereafter, and made his way out here. He was as enthusiastic about Indiana music as I am. If you’re out there, Eric, get in touch!

The band seemed a bit tired, however, and the set didn’t really gel until the last half, following Hatfield’s introduction to Freda’s great song, “Nothing Ever Happens.” Something clicked in the emotional dynamic of the band at that point and the rest of the set had a verve and heartfelt quality.

(UPDATE: The set list posted over at the Some Girls board has “Nothing Ever Happens” next to last, so obviously it was some other song that kicked it over. What can I say? There was beer-consumption involved.)

I’ve neglected to discuss in detail the playing and presence of Heidi Gluck in both bands. She sings lead on several Pieces numbers and her bass lines and singing voice contributed heavily to the success of the show. For me, as Some Girls closed the evening with an interesting, delicately arranged, and emotionally effective cover of Robert Johnson’s “Malted Milk,” I found my self focusing on her as she played harmonica, eyes closed, leaning back, and looking as though she was squeezing the winds of the Canadian plains through her slight frame.

As the song progressed, in several places it dropped away to a whisper. Some oblivious drunks were shouting at each other about their breakfast plans. Gluck’s eyes opened, seeing the disturbance, and then she returned to her performance. At that moment it was clear to me that her skills and specific presence as a performer – a combination of soulful reflectiveness, vulnerability, and remarkable chops – make her uniquely valuable as a musician and performer. Both Some Girls and the Pieces are extremely fortunate to count her as a member, and hope she’ll take the opportunity to extend and explore her charisma and muse onstage.

(UPDATE: The band actually closed with “Only Love Can Break Your Heart,” and I think the event described above happend during that song.)

While I was looking up Dale’s Some Girls feature yesterday,The Vulgar Boatmen, annotated also appeared at Nuvo.

Dale and Steve Hammer sat down and went over Wide Awake track by track. I’ll amuse myself by thinking of it as somehow related to my version ;).

nuvo.net / Some Girls rock harder than others, headlines Dale Lawrence at great length in a recent ish of the Indy alternative rag Nuvo.

Some Girls is a one-off project that brings Blake Babies Juliana Hatfield and Freda Love together with Indy bassist Heidi Gluck; Freda is also an old high-school chum of mine.

Although they only offer one tune on their website, i have heard a great deal of the album by listening to Bloomington alt-public station WFHB in iTunes recently, and boy, I really like it.

I’m excited to see the band on Thursday at the Crocodile (despite the Croc’s inability to provide an October gig calendar, prompting eye-rolls from your humble correspondent).

Got that? Thursday night. The Crocodile. Some Girls. Don’t make me repeat myself.

Greg and I and Karel just had a pleasant, Becherovka fueled evening. I’m quite crosseyed.

Last night I enjoyed a pleasant pub crawl with my pal Don. Being of a certain domesticated temper these days, I spend far less time in bars than I once did, and a salutary survey of the local watering holes was well in order.

We began with the newest kid on the block, Clever Dunnes’, an Irish pub that opened about a year ago. They have great food and a good selection of beers, and sometimes they even play Irish music in weekend nights. There was an irish football game on the telly, and we had a pleasant meal and a couple pints of Guinness. I was struck by the low smoker quotient.

(I should note that my old band, the Bare Knuckle Boxers, occasionally plays there. The picture on their site is from a June gig in that location.)

We then headed over to Pike (or is it Pine? after thirteen years, i still can’t get it straight) and wandered into Kincora’s, another joint that the Boxers have been known to play from time to time. In fact, I’ve played gigs there going back at least ten years, starting with a Halloween gig (in a different band from the Boxers) in which our guitarist yanked the neck of his Mosrite Black Widow in such a way as to chip the tooth of our lead singer – I was wearing a full-head mask, which made it impossible to see what had happened – I just saw Tod go down like a sack of bricks, and when he got up, there was blood all over his face. He just kept singing, though. What a trouper.

Kincora’s has clearly become the hipster destination of choice on the lower hill – it was appropriately seedy and featured a wide variety of creatively dressed pierced, and tattooed young people. It was interesting to me that as far as I could tell, I did not recognize more than one of the people in the bar by sight, presumably a testament to my domesticated status.

From there we wandered up to Linda’s, crowded as ever on a weekend night. Linda’s crowd remains young, but unlike the aggressively uber-hip crowd I recall from the joint when it first opened, the youngsters bellying up were much less prone to be wearing a mesh-back baseball cap with a seventies satin shirt, for example, or to sport a septum ring. Now, I’m not saying that the bar was full of puffy-haired yahoos, but the overall hipster quotient was quite low. In a way, it’s almost a relief to know that there’s a place for these folks on the Hill.

Next, we wandered up to the Bad Juju Lounge, which Don had never dropped by before. His curiosity was piqued by my semi-joking characterization of the place as ‘the goth bar.’ As advertised, there was a distinct preponderance of black garb in the bar; but, as with Linda’s, I was somewhat surprised at the diminution of concern with costume among the clientele. I suppose that the presence of the Vogue right next door probably draws off the folks who are most focused on latex-wear and so forth.

We then wandered vaguely by Barca and over to the corner by the Wild Rose – I was surprised to see that apparently the teahouse in the condo building had closed down. We debated the options, but were drawn down toward the bar that I’ve inhabited more than any other, the sainted, beloved Comet (another place I’ve gigged, too). They were having a show, and the loud rock was pouring into the street. We stopped by the corner windows and looked in – you can see and hear the bands playing with no difficulty.

It quickly became apparent that the band playing was fantastic. I recognized the imposing bulk of their guitarist, who Karel had introduced to me at the Comet a few months ago. The Comet is right around the corner from a major practice hall, known as the Chophouse, where tons of bands practice; gigs at the Comet can have a kind of hometown vide as a result, since the musicians that pass one another in the fetid, loud, smoky halls of the practice space will frequently adjourn to the Comet for a cold one and conversation. It was clear that this gig was one of those, the musicians interacting with specific people in the crowded space, the play area mapped out on the floor only by the monitors. It was punk rock the way punk rock is at its’ best, and Don and I quickly realized it would be better to stand inside the bar with a beer than outside without.

The band was Midnight Thunder Express, and they were playing a farewell show before they head out on a six-week European tour. I can’t begin to convey the excellence of the show and the band’s sound. It was a perfect way to close out the night – the serendipitous nature of finding the show was wonderful.