CD Odyssey Disc 1055: The Sword

It’s been a good week for music. On Wednesday I took in a New Pornographers concert which was pretty good. It didn’t blow me away, but they played well and it was a fun time. The opening act was Born Ruffians who were also solid. The crowd seemed to appreciate both, with many fans singing along every word, which was cool. It is always great when you see someone enjoying their favourite band.

New Pornographers aren’t my favourite band, but I like them. I’ve got two of their albums and their new one is solid and will soon grace my collection as well.

On to the next review as I continue to renew my love of heavy metal.

Disc 1055 is…Age of Winters

Artist: The Sword

Year of Release: 2006

What’s up with the Cover? An Art Nouveau-style painting of a beautiful blonde woman reclining, sword and shield nearby. Perhaps this is a Valkyrie on a coffee break? If so I hope she puts on some leather boots before she heads back out to collect the souls of those fallen in battle, because battlefields can be littered with all kinds of sharp objects.

How I Came To Know It: About ten months ago I was looking something up on Youtube (I don’t remember what, but some metal album) and “Age of Winters” popped up as “recommended for you”. I gave it a chance and loved what I heard.

How It Stacks Up:  The Sword have five albums, and I own four of them (yeah, I fell for them pretty hard). Of those four I put “Age of Winters” third; Solid, but two others are that much better.

Ratings: 3 stars

Ever wonder what had happened to good old straight forward heavy metal? Well about a year ago, I did. Sure there are other kinds of metal that was birthed out of those early years. Doom metal, thrash metal, speed metal and death metal to name just a few. Lots of good stuff in there, but I was looking for that pure stuff – like what if eighties metal hadn’t died, but had just grown louder?

“Age of Winters” is the trunk of that metal tree, still alive and kicking. Called by some “the New Wave of Traditional Heavy Metal,” this is music that takes eighties metal riffs and makes them thicker and crunchier than ever before. No one does it better than the Sword, and “Age of Winters” is the album that got them started.

Musically, this stuff is three chords and a cloud of dust. Drums shake the earth, and guitars pound out basic riffs and assault your ear drums. When you think you’ve had your fill of riffs, the Sword shoves a few more down your throat. Eat it! Like it! If that sounds aggressive, that’s the point. This is music to mosh to. Plant your feet and sweat through your t-shirt while you let it soak into your spine and organs until it becomes part of you.

Care for a guitar solo? Well, there aren’t many of those on “Age of Winters,” just a series of competing riffs playing back and forth off each other. The boys play so tight, though, that you don’t miss any of the usual digital wizardry of other metal bands. Instead they focus on deep blues riffs, electrified and infused with iron ore and blood.

Care for some vocal gymnastics? Not much of that either. Writer and lead singer J.D. Cronise doesn’t have the operatic vocal range of a Rob Halford or Bruce Dickenson. However, he does know how to write a song that suits his more rhythm driven style. The influence of Ozzy-era Black Sabbath is obvious in Cronise’s delivery, but he adds a doom metal grimness that makes it all his own.

The whole thing is gloriously heavy, chugging along without ever descending into the stew that is Doom Metal, never furiously noodling its way into Thrash Metal but finds a nice common ground with both. Slow and heavy wins the race, my friends.

Lyrically, “Age of Winters” is all about fantasy, sorcery and – yes – swords, all of which painted with ridiculously majestic language. Here is some good stuff from the opening of “Lament for the Aurochs”:

“Laboring in the liquid light of leviathan
Spectres swarm around the sunken cities of the saurians
Rising from the void through the blackness of eternal night
Colossus of the deep comes crashing down with cosmic might.”

I’m not sure what’s going on here, but it sounds really fucking important, and more than a little Lovecraftian. Even the instrumental “March of the Lor” has eight movements. These are:

1. Through the Breach
2. Iron Ships on Seas of Blood
3. Invocation of Halora
4. The Black Web is Spun
5. Misery of the Plague-Born
6. The Spiders’ Descent
7. Conquest of Kingdoms
8. Age of Winters

This list of themes could cover a whole prog album for an hour but “Age of Winters” sorts it all out in a single instrumental in less than five minutes.

Despite the rather ambitious mythology the Sword is trying to create, there isn’t a lot of complicated arrangements going on with “Age of Winters.” This is straight ahead punch-you-in-the-nose metal, thick and heavy like metal should be. While later albums by The Sword would be more musically interesting, there is a lot to be said for “Age of Winters” pure and furious energy. I liked it a lot and if you enjoy metal, so will you.

Best tracks: Freya, Winter’s Wolves, Lament for the Aurochs, Ebethron

CD Odyssey Disc 1054: Julie Miller

Welcome back the CD Odyssey! I don’t know about you, but it is like I never left. Since I’m always listening to something that I’m preparing to review, for me it’s true.

Despite the constant effort, with 20 new albums in my collection from my holiday, the new section of my collection is more backlogged than ever. So after a brief dalliance with Neil Diamond (thanks for the memories, Neil) let’s get into something relatively new (to me), shall we?

Disc 1054 is…Broken Things

Artist: Julie Miller

Year of Release: 1999

What’s up with the Cover? This cover is very of its time, from the see-through blouse all the way down to the boring font. 1999 was not a great year in fashion.

How I Came To Know It: One of the many albums I learned about reading Paste Magazine’s “Top 100 Indie Folk Albums” where it came in at #54. I had about 20 of those albums when I read the list, and now I’ve got 36 and a whole lot of side purchases besides. That damned list has cost me a lot of money.

How It Stacks Up:  This is my only Julie Miller album, and I don’t have any plans at this point to get any more, so it can’t stack up.

Ratings: 3 stars

Sometimes you can recognize an album for its greatness and for whatever reasons it doesn’t grab you like you know it should. That was my reaction to “Broken Things” which is a solid piece of work marred only by my personal preferences around vocals and production.

Miller is one of those artists that has been around forever, and is heavily respected by other musicians. This album is proof of that, with guest appearances by Emmylou Harris, Victoria Williams, Steve Earle and Patty Griffin. However, like Townes Van Zandt and Guy Clark, while Miller is heavily respected by insiders, she doesn’t get a lot of love on the charts. Fortunately that never stopped me from loving an artist – I don’t even listen to the radio, let alone care which songs are in heavy rotation.

“Broken Things” is a mix of styles, blending rock, pop and contemporary folk. The song constructions are very much the latter, but the way the songs are arranged and performed scream pop, and that’s how I’m going to tag the entry.

Miller is a gifted songwriter, and she understands how to build an interesting melody that serves the mood of the story she’s telling. The plaintive chorus of “I Know Why the River Runs” pulls at your heartstrings and bluesy excess of “Strange Lover” is exactly the right mix of suggestive, dreamy and aggressive to paint a portrait of unhealthy relationships and drug abuse.

The album covers a lot of emotional ground, and much as the album title promises, gets into a lot of broken things – mostly hearts and spirit. There is a lot of darkness on this record, and I imagine it would make for a very satisfying wallow if that’s where you’re at in your life when you first hear it.

Unfortunately, I don’t love Miller’s vocals. She sings better than Van Zandt or Clark ever could, but those guys write songs where vocal prowess doesn’t matter much. These songs are more like Patty Griffin or Emmylou Harris tunes, but I found myself wishing they were singing them instead. Miller also has a bit of waifish girl in her voice, which at its best can sound haunting and vulnerable, but can also sound affected or indistinct.

The bigger issue is the late nineties production, lush and full and aimlessly making noise in every direction. The bass and drums thud dull and empty and the beautiful piano and guitar work is buried in the jungle of sound that passed for “full bodied” back in the day. It was the sound of all albums back then, but as someone who likes a crisp sound with plenty of space, I have a hard time getting past it.

Worst of all, the production drowns out some great guest backup vocals by Patty and Emmylou. If you’re going to have those people sing on your record, I want to hear them better. Emmylou is welcome on "Two Soldiers" at the beginning, but the song adds a bit too much noise as it moves along. All that interference was the musical equivalent of trying to enjoy a barbecued steak while also having to shoo a wasp away from your plate the whole time. Steve Earle appears on “Strange Lover” with much greater impact, but it would be impossible to keep Steve back in the mix when you’re singing about broken hearts and cocaine. That’s his wheelhouse.

In terms of songwriting, I would give this album four stars, but the two star production drags it back to the middle of the pack. Still, on balance it is still worthy of a place on the CD shelves, and the occasional listen down the road as well.

Best tracks: I Know Why the River Runs, I Still Cry, Broken Things, Speed of Light

CD Odyssey Disc 1053: Neil Diamond

After a long run of reviews inspired by some live shows I started this week off by getting back to basics with a randomly generated album out of the main library. Here it is!

Disc 1053 is…20 Golden Greats

Artist: Neil Diamond

Year of Release: 1978 but featuring music from 1968-1973

What’s up with the Cover? Neil strikes a majestic pose for he is…Neil.

How I Came To Know It: I’ve known Neil Diamond since I was a kid, but for many years never considered getting an album of his. Buying Neil Diamond just wasn’t done. Then I was at a party one year and my friend Spence’s girlfriend at the time took over the CD player. They were really into Neil Diamond at the time (I think they were obsessed with his schlock) and were playing this album. To my surprise, I found myself really liking it. Not long thereafter I went out and bought it for myself.

How It Stacks Up:  This is a greatest hits compilation, so it can’t stack up.

Ratings: Best ofs don’t get rated. That’s the rule.

Neil Diamond is a glorious unabashed lounge singing dork, but damn it if he isn’t the best time since AM radio. Paint that man’s name in sparkling diamond font, because he’s a star! If that introduction seemed a bit too enthusiastic than is warranted, that’s because part of enjoying Neil Diamond is embracing excess. If you don’t wax poetic you’re not really listening.

But for all the gentle fun I am poking, Diamond is a gifted singer and songwriter. His voice is a rich baritone that is part crooner, part rocker and more than a little gospel choir leader. It is a voice that is instantly recognizable, and even if you don’t like the song he’s singing, it is hard not to enjoy that irresistible tone.

As for songwriting, Diamond is at his best when he’s dropping sing-a-long anthems. His most famous, “Sweet Caroline” is so engaging people sing along to the horn flourish – “Sweet Caroline…buh buh buh!” Now that’s catchy.

Other standouts include “Holly Holy,” “Kentucky Woman” and “Cherry Cherry” but I don’t have to tell you any of this. Diamond’s songs are so intrinsically part of our shared pop culture it’s like it’s in our DNA. It isn’t a question of whether you know a Neil Diamond song, it’s a question of which one is your favourite.

For me, it is a tie between “Cracklin’ Rosie” and “I Am I Said”. “Cracklin’ Rosie” is a love song about a cheap bottle of wine, which Neil manages to make strangely heroic and even a little romantic. “Cracklin’ Rosie” is a celebration of those nights when you find yourself alone and decide to have one too many and maybe crank the tunes a little.

“Cracklin’ Rose you’re a store bought woman

But you make me sing like a guitar hummin’”

Sure the evening ends early with you sleeping on the couch at ten p.m., but it was a good time while it lasted, as long as you don’t make a habit of it.

“Cracklin’ Rosie” is also one of my karaoke standards and while I can’t belt it out like Neil, I give it 100% every time, and with songs like this that’s usually enough. Side note, Shane MacGowan and the Popes do a killer version of this song on their 2002 album “The Rare Oul’ Stuff”.

My other favourite is (coincidentally) another fine song about being drunk and alone. “I Am I Said” isn’t another mellow time of dancing about your living room after a little pink Zinfandel. Rather it’s that time when you’re out of town on business (for Neil that is ‘touring’) and you find yourself drunk and alone in your hotel room. In Neil’s case, this is cause for engaging in a rambling monologue to a chair. Best bit…

“Did you ever read about a frog
Who dreamed of bein' a king
And then became one?
Well except for the names
And a few other changes
If you’re talking about me
The story is the same one.”

Yeah – except for all the details, it is the same story – testify, Neil! Just don’t call anyone from your room tonight. You’ll just regret it in the morning. The chair is audience enough for this one – oh, and the millions of people who have loved it since you penned the experience and set it to music.

For deep cuts, I go with “Walk on Water” which starts slow and folksy and becomes this revival, complete with handclaps, maracas, a full choir of folks and what I think is a ukulele. In a word – yeehaw!

When Neil tries to get serious he loses me a bit. I find songs like “And the Singer Sings His Song” and “Shilo” wade a bit too deep into the river of schlock for me to follow. Also, “20 Golden Greats” ended up being about six or seven more golden greats than I needed.

However, it was still a good time, and a guaranteed crowd pleaser at the end of a party, when most of the guests have gone home, and a few people are still chilling out and killing off any wine that’s already been opened. Someone is also probably barefoot at this point. Just remember once everyone leaves to thank Neil for the musical digestif, shut off the amp and say goodnight to the chair.

Best tracks: Sweet Caroline, Holly Holy, Cherry Cherry, Solitary Man, Kentucky Woman, Cracklin’ Rosie, Walk on Water, I Am I Said

CD Odyssey Disc 1052: Trapper Schoepp

This is the last of my trilogy of album review/concert review double features from our recent musical holiday to San Francisco, Portland and Vancouver. The last show was Frank Turner, but while I was there I discovered a new (to me) opening act and was impressed. Since he’s got the new album and not Frank, I’m going to review that first and then talk about the concert at the end.

Frank, if you want this kind of VIP treatment you’re going to have to stop teasing me and release that new record. For now, let’s turn our attention to Wisconsin’s Trapper Schoepp.

Disc 1052 is…Rangers & Valentines

Artist: Trapper Schoepp

Year of Release: 2016

What’s up with the Cover? This cover brings to mind that old adage, “If you’re going to be drawn and quartered, make sure you wear your best suit.”

OK, that’s not an old saying, but it is still good advice. Sure the suit will be ruined, but by the time they ride your various parts to the four corners of the kingdom, your suit will be the least of your worries.

How I Came To Know It: For a guy who knows a lot of music I confess I’d never heard of Trapper Schoepp before I saw him open for Frank Turner at the Commodore a week ago. After I heard him though, I wasted no time getting to the merch table to buy a couple of his CDs. This was one of them.

How It Stacks Up:  I’m not sure. I have two Trapper Schoepp albums, but they are two of 20 CDs I bought while on holiday, and I’ve only listened to 13 so far and the other Schoepp album (“Run, Engine, Run”) isn’t one of them. Despite that I took the time to listen to “Rangers & Valentines” several times in recent days and based on how good it is, I’m going to guess it is the best.

Ratings: 4 stars

Not every artist is good both live and recorded. I’ve seen lots of artists that are only good in the studio, and others that only grabbed your attention when they’re physically there in front of you. In the case of Trapper Schoepp, you’re good either way. Schoepp’s youthful energy, insightful songwriting, and innate sense of timing and delivery all translated to CD without a hitch.

Like a lot of good music, it is hard to categorize Schoepp. He is mostly good ol’ rock and roll, but there is a healthy dose of country twang and bit of Dylan-esque folk music. He reminded me favourably of Canadian singer-songwriter Luke Doucet, another genre-crossing talent.

Schoepp is a young musician, but you get the sense he has a strong sense of musical history. I heard elements of sixties pop, seventies country and eighties rock in his music, but he’s blended it all into a sound that is fresh and modern. The guitar on “Don’t Go” even feels a bit like the guitar sound in early U2 – only more organic. Schoepp then blends that sound with a southern fried country-rock riff, and a heart-worn narrative of duty and disillusionment worthy of a Steve Earle ballad.

“Talking Girlfriend Blues” sounds like an homage to Bob Dylan, all the way down to the title and delivery, but Schoepp keeps it original. The song also shows off his strong sense of humour and talent for self-deprecation as he tells of a series of near-misses on trying to find a girlfriend. Like Dylan he knows how to wrap up a rambling image with a funny tag line:

“…by the time I dropped her off

She was doing her best cough

I went in for a kiss, it was more of a lick

It was about that time that she said she was sick

But I knew it was just of me.”

Schoepp has a solid understanding of how to let imagery do the heavy lifting, like the use of football in the opening of “For Jonny”:

“Drank booze from bowls

Sang “Dixie” out of tune

Missed the football game on Sunday

Passed out at noon

“I wanted to hit the town

But the town it hit me

It’s been knocking me down

Since I was 19”

The way he puts those football images in your head in the first stanza means its lurking around in your mind when the town knocks him down in the second. The booze here is like a concussive sideline hit, and an evocative image of someone partying at an unhealthy level.

In previous reviews I’ve bemoaned artists that played stripped down in concert, but then added too much production to their recorded work. I heard Schoepp solo on a single guitar, and “Rangers & Valentines” is a full band, replete with horn sections, piano, pedal steel, organ and more besides. Here the additional instruments are welcome additions, adding layers to songs that already have solid bones to work with.

The horn section on “Mono Pt. II” is sublime, blasting around in the chorus, and making an ill-timed bought of mononucleosis strangely celebratory. There’s even a cowbell on “Settlin’ or Sleepin’ Around”. Is there any song that isn’t made better by cowbell? I can’t think of any.

“Rangers & Valentines” is an excellent record, and one that I think will feature heavily in rotation on my stereo.

Best tracks: Mono Pt. II, Talking Girlfriend Blues, Settlin’ or Sleepin’ Around, For Jonny, Don’t Go, Dream

The Concert – September 13, 2017 – The Commodore Ballroom, Vancouver

At last, after a thousand chances to go, I finally found myself in the legendary Commodore Ballroom. I’ve wanted to see a show there for decades and for whatever reason (scheduling, money or just plain lack of motivation) I never made it over. Eventually, it took following Frank Turner up from Portland to make it happen. We’ll get to Frank’s show at the end, but let’s give the opening acts some time first, shall we?

Band of Rascals

Frank Turner had two opening acts, and the first of them was “Band of Rascals” a blues rock outfit from my home town of Victoria that came on for about a half dozen songs as the place was filling up.

It’s never easy to be the first of three bands, but Band of Rascals took the stage with a good deal of energy. They played solid bluesy grooves (particularly the bassist, who I felt was the hidden star of the group) and were generally well received, but it wasn’t my cup of tea.

As we got settled in for the next act, I took a little time out to down a double rum and coke or two. Unlike San Francisco, I was no longer feeling the restless need for rebellion. For this reason (and because the spiced rum selection at the Commodore is atrocious) I took it a lot slower. I’m sure my liver appreciated the change of pace.

Trapper Schoepp

Next up was Trapper Schoepp, who you may remember from such blog entries as “Disc 1052: Trapper Schoepp”. If that doesn’t ring a bell, scroll up.

Anyway, unlike his record that is full of horn flourishes and other great instrumentation, Trapper appeared on stage armed with nothing more than a guitar and a rakish smile. No doubt it is hard to drag a full band all the way from Wisconsin.

Fortunately, Schoepp didn’t need all those extras to sound great. He has that busker-like talent of making his guitar do double duty as percussion and melody and his vocals were strong, crisp and clear.

It helps when you write great songs, and as I noted in the album review Schoepp has the talent. These were songs that had catchy hooks, great narratives, and just the right mix of humour and wisdom.

Schoepp had a natural command of the room, which in the Commodore isn’t easy. That dance floor is big, and it is festooned with a lot of drunks; getting their attention takes effort. Schoepp managed it with an “aw, shucks” quality that was a little bit of humble and a little bit of relaxed confidence that comes from people who just know they’ve got a talent for getting people to pay attention to them.

He certainly got my attention. I started the set wondering whether I was going to try to risk ordering a drink on my tab from the floor server or wander back over to the bar and do it direct. In the end I forgot all about getting a drink and just watched the show.

After he finished up Schoepp was at the merch table and I got a chance to meet him. He was engaging and present with what I call “something going on behind the eyes”. I like to think he is going places – hopefully to my hometown, where I can see him play again.

Frank Turner

And then, the moment all of us rabid Turnerites were waiting for came…Frank Turner and the Sleeping Souls took the stage.

Frank Turner was good in Portland, but opening act in a sit-down auditorium is not the proper way to see him. Here, under the soaring ceiling of the Commodore ballroom and in front of close to 1,000 rabid fans, he was finally in his element. He did not disappoint.

I’d seen Frank a couple years earlier at a similar venue (the Neptune in Seattle) and vowed I’d see him as often as I could from that point forward. Turner’s show at the Commodore was even better than my first experience, which is saying something given the bar he set back then.

Turner was on fire, amping up a throng that was already packed tight on the dance floor. We remained on the side at our table, but added plenty of noise and excitement from there. Best of all the way the seating is tiered I was able to see just fine and could also stand, dance and shout as the mood struck me without wrecking the experience of anyone behind me.

Frank has three rules at his show: be kind to each other, sing along if you know the words, and dance if you don’t. They are easy rules to follow. His repertoire has plenty of sing-a-long tracks that cleverly mix self-affirmation and self-examination.

A good Frank Turner crowd doesn’t just sing along to the chorus or hook, they know the words to the whole song, and this crowd did not disappoint. I felt very much among my people, and it felt good.

In addition to the great music and enthusiastic delivery Frank had a few tricks I hadn’t seen yet. These include having a friend of his from the audience crowd surf from the stage to the bar at the back of the room, get two shots of whisky, and then crowd surf back where she and Frank had an on-stage toast. Before she set out Frank reminded everyone to be respectful of her during the journey, and the crowd enthusiastically called out their collective promise to do so.

Later Turner exhorted everyone to give a stranger a hug. I rushed to a guy at a neighboring table and gave him a bear hug like he was a friend I hadn’t seen in twenty years. He happily reciprocated.

Turner takes the overused expression of “music brings people together” and makes it live and present in the flesh. More importantly, it never feels like a schtick or a gimmick. He loves to perform, and he’s damned good at it, and he has the musical talent to back up that passion.

After the show was over, we met up with our friends Casey and Helene, who we’d lost earlier to the dance floor crowd. Here they are:

They weren’t strangers, but shortly before or after this picture was taken I hugged them too. Our other friends Andrew and Theresa slipped away sometime near the end of the encore, beating the rush but if they hadn’t, I would’ve hugged them too. I’m a bit of a hugger. Seeing a Frank Turner show with friends definitely makes it better, but going to a Frank Turner show means being among hundreds of friends anyway – you just haven’t met them all yet.

CD Odyssey Disc 1051: Frances Luke Accord

As I noted in my last review, I’ve been away for a week seeing a lot of live shows in various cities and buying a bunch of new (to me) music. When those two activities crossover it gives me a chance to review a new (to me) album as well as review a show, and this is my second in a series of three such reviews.

Two days before the Frank Turner/Jason Isbell show in Portland Sheila and I were in San Francisco. We spent the day shopping in the Haight-Asbury area and with the 49ers/Panthers game not until the following day arranged to do something that night. That something was the Frances Luke Accord live in concert and ended up being a very happy musical accident indeed.

The review of the live show follows, but first a review of the studio album they were touring.

Disc 1051 is…Fluke

 Artist: Frances Luke Accord

Year of Release: 2016

What’s up with the Cover? A lot of geometry. This is either a cubist collage or someone who went a little overboard with the spirograph. I don’t mind it, but I would’ve preferred the logo from the band’s tour shirt:

 

How I Came To Know It: Before we left Victoria I had scoped out possible bands and the best bet seemed to be the Growlers, who are a crazy mix of rock and surf punk.

However, that show had sold out the day before I went to buy tickets so I went with my second choice – a folk duo I’d never heard of called the Frances Luke Accord that sounded pretty good on Youtube. After the show, I bought the album from the merch table. I also bought the t-shirt. Who doesn’t love a whale tail?

How It Stacks Up:  I only have this one Frances Luke Accord album, so it can’t really stack up.

Ratings: 3 stars

The Frances Luke Accord are two multi-instrumentalists and vocalists, Nicholas Gunty and Brian Powers that sound like the second coming of Simon and Garfunkel.

They are formally trained and have a ton of talent that brings that training to life. Their playing is crisp and joyful, and man can they sing sweet harmonies. They could go and have successful careers as session musicians to the end of their days but I’m really glad they haven’t.

That’s because they are also gifted songwriters, who pull together light and flowing melodies that are inspired equally by jazz, pop and folk music. The songs surprise you in the way they develop but still sound soothing to the soul. Too often jazz sensibilities lead composers down strange progressions that are jarring to the ear. On “Fluke” the Frances Luke Accord knows how to reign in the jazz elements and use it to serve the song, rather than to just be clever. OK – once in a while they get a bit clever, but they leave the melody alone.

I wasn’t as inspired lyrically as I was musically. At their best, the duo create lovely pastoral images or fleeting moments of emotional reaction, but they can also tend toward metaphors that are a bit too universal to capture your attention. It is a minor quibble though, because I’d listen to these guys sing the phone book and be happy.

“Nowhere to Be Found” is the standout on the album, or maybe I just like it best because it is the most stripped down and folksy (more on that in a minute). This song feels like it fell right out of Simon and Garfunkel’s songbook. With its themes of emptying out desire and freeing yourself in the process, this is a song that would make the Dalai Lama smile. Also, it’s catchy.

Also a shout out to violinist Katie Van Dusen, who is featured on two songs (the too-short “The Nightline” and the too-long “On the Road”). Despite wanting one of these songs to develop a bit more and the other to wrap it up, there was no denying the majestic beauty of Van Dusen’s violin when she lit up the arrangement. It was one thing I wished had been at the concert.

In most of the other places, though, I wanted the Frances Luke Accord to strip back the arrangements. There were places where drums, piano and trumpet would enter the songs where I was happy with just the guitars and the violin. The Frances Luke Accord concert was a special musical moment for me, and part of what made it special was the spectacular soundscapes they guys made with just vocals and guitars. It kind of spoiled me for what to expect on the CD. Sorry about that, Frances Luke Accord – I still really like the record.

Best tracks: Who Do You Run From, Tangled in Your Web, Nowhere to Be Found

The Concert – September 9, 2017 – Doc’s Lab, San Francisco

Doc’s Lab was the perfect setting for an intimate evening of indie folk music. Originally it was the Purple Onion, and well known for hosting all kinds of famous comedians in the fifties and sixties. At a seating capacity of around 90 it was cozy, and had great sound.

Sparkbox

The opening act was Sparkbox, which is the combined talents of Megan Keely and Kelly McFarling, both of whom are solo contemporary folk singer-songwriters based in San Francisco. Together, they perform under the name Sparkbox, although I’m not sure why. If that was explained at some point I either missed it or I’ve forgotten.

At this point I should note that I saw this show only two days removed from a very busy work week and was looking for an opportunity to kick start my holiday and let off some steam. I hit the double rum and cokes early and kept ‘em coming. More on this later.

Back to Sparkbox, who I had never heard before, but was pretty excited when I saw it was going to be just two women armed with a banjo and a couple of guitars. As noted in the review above, I’m a sucker for sparse production.

I was not to be disappointed. Keely and McFarling sang sweet and thoughtful songs inspired from the events of their lives. They had a bit of friendly banter, and while they came close to crossing into “painful open mic” territory they stayed on the right side of the line.

They both played well and sang even better. McFarling’s voice was rich and rangy, and she had an easy and natural flow on the banjo. Keely sang a bit higher, and they blended into loose harmony very well. They reminded me favourably of the Wailin’ Jennys, LINK minus a Jenny.

Doc’s Lab is not just a hipster music venue, it is also a hipster restaurant, and through the show I enjoyed a meal of steak and frites and a few more double rum and cokes. Along the way we got to know Megan Keely’s parents and uncle, who were sitting beside us. They were amazing people who clearly loved music. Sheila was concerned I swore too much when I talked to them, but it was just the blue collar in me, being friendly.

I met both performers after the show and they were gracious and charming. They had six albums for sale and I went with four. This caused some excitement and left me with the feeling they didn’t sell a lot of hard copy. That’s a pity, and a good reminder that if you’re at a show and you like the opening act then buy their album. If you don’t support up-and-coming artists, there won’t be any.

I plan to review those albums at some point, obviously, but since neither one was – strictly speaking – “Sparkbox” – I decided to just put the review here.

Frances Luke Accord

 

About an hour later, the Frances Luke Accord took the stage, and I was already in a state of musical euphoria. Also drunk at this point, but mostly it was the music.

The Frances Luke Accord elevated my mood even further, with sublime harmonies and an exceptional amount of skill on both guitar and mandolin.

Their playing was organic and lush and all my minor quibbles with the excess instrumentation on the album originate here, with just two great musicians, pouring their heart and souls into their instruments.

The whole thing just felt…graceful. Drunk and happy, I swayed along to songs I’d only heard once or twice before but that now felt intimately familiar to me, like they were speaking to my soul. Stripped down to just vocals and two stringed instruments (sometimes guitar and mandolin, sometimes double guitar) you could really focus on the fantastic tone and delivery these two guys were pumping out.

I hope my swaying wasn’t more than mildly distracting to the people behind me, but I like to think I was swaying in time. Also I didn’t shout random things and I didn’t stand up and hold my drink to the stage for an awkwardly long time, which are the two classic drunk concert-goer faux pas.

Then, all too soon, the show was over and I found myself back at the merch table, this time babbling to the band about what a profound experience I’d just had. I probably expressed such musical revelations as “man, you guys can really play!” and “your tone is amazing!” Not terribly insightful, but I delivered the message with gusto, partly surprised at how much I had liked the show, and partly just feeling enhanced with the power of all those Sailor Jerry and cokes.

Whatever I said, one of the band members (Brian) sold me a CD and a t-shirt and the other one (Nick) gave me a big hug, so I think I made a positive impression. Sheila was right behind me, stuffing these into her purse alongside my earlier musical purchases, settling up the tab and possibly apologizing for any F-bombs I’d casually dropped with the Keely family. She also got a hug from half of the Frances Luke Accord. Brian was friendly as well, but more of a handshake guy.

Then we were on the road, with the heady glow of folk music flushing my cheeks, and a warm San Francisco wind blowing us back to the hotel. It was a fine way to start a holiday.

CD Odyssey Disc 1050: Jason Isbell

Sorry for the delay in reviews, gentle reader, but I’ve been on the road, seeing a whole bunch of bands and buying a whole bunch of music.

Sheila and I went to San Francisco, Portland, and Vancouver to see a football game (49ers/Panthers) as well as three concerts. One of those concerts was Jason Isbell, and to read a review simply scroll to the bottom of the album review below.

I also saw a bunch of other cool bands, including Frank Turner, Sparkbox, the Francis Luke Accord and Trapper Schoepp and there wasn’t a bad apple in the box. Since I bought a bunch of albums by these bands, look for similar reviews to this one coming soon…

And when you get tired of those reviews, don’t worry. I found about 20 albums worth of music I’ve been looking for at such great record stores as Amoeba Records in San Francisco and Everyday Music in Portland. Amoeba in particular is an awe-inspiring display of music and a must-see if you are a music fan in San Francisco. Many thanks to my friend Mack for the recommendation.

Enough of this. Let’s get to talking about one of the best albums of 2017 so far, and one of the best concerts I’ve seen this year as well.

Disc 1050 is…The Nashville Sound

Artist: Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit

Year of Release: 2017

What’s up with the Cover? It’s like a poster for one of those heist movies like Oceans 11. Maybe the 400 Unit is going to rob the Grand Ole Opry!

How I Came To Know It: I was already a fan of Jason Isbell when this came out so it was just me buying his new release.

How It Stacks Up:  I have four Jason Isbell albums and all of them are fantastic, but the Nashville Sound is his best yet, so #1.

Ratings: 5 stars

Over the last six years Jason Isbell has released four albums, with each one better than the last. That trajectory to excellence culminates (for now) with “The Nashville Sound,” an Isbell opus that is heart-wrenching, thought-provoking and altogether sublime.

Like the band where he got his start (The Drive-By Truckers) Isbell’s sound is a mix of southern rock and alt-country. The combination provides a wider palette of musical experience than you might expect with guitar driven rock, sweeping ballads and painful confessionals.

Even though many of the songs are narratives about fictional characters, Isbell’s intensely personal writing style makes it impossible to separate his own experiences from those of his characters. Recovering from alcohol abuse and making a fresh start, the record maintains a delicate balance between fresh optimism and wince-inducing regret.

Musically, the record has an easy roll to it, with musicians that are clearly comfortable playing with one another and who find the groove with grace. Flourishes of guitar licks and violin cuts layer light brush strokes over top of traditional rock and country rhythms creating a lattice-work of sound that never sounds busy, but keeps your ear engaged all the same. With the instruments perfectly balanced in the mix, you can fall into this music and explore as deep as you want and even on multiple listens there’ll still be something new to catch your fancy.

Or you can just follow along with the great storyteller Jason Isbell, as he sings his high airy drawl.  Isbell’s vocal power is underrated, and he sings every word with conviction.

In 2016 Isbell’s former band, the Drive-By Truckers released their own masterpiece about the American cultural landscape with “American Band” (reviewed back at Disc 932) but as great as that record was, Isbell has taken it to a new level.

Where “American Band” took a direct and unapologetic look at the problems they see in their society, Isbell’s approach is slightly more oblique, but even more powerful. This is an album that is filled with doubt, as Isbell explores race relations (“White Man’s World”) and the challenges of a changing landscape for blue collar America (“Last of My Kind”). There are no easy answers here, just a man expressing confusion about what comes next, what still matters and why.

This album finds Isbell recently sober and a father as of 2015, and clearly reborn with a newfound sense of purpose. “Molotov” has Isbell making a newfound commitment to a healthy lifestyle after years of hard living. He artfully contrasts the power of a bottle of liquor to destroy you, and the love of a good woman to build you back:

“I broke a promise to myself

To ride the throttle ‘til the wheels came off

Burn out like a Molotov in the night sky.

I broke a promise to myself

And made a couple to a brown-eyed girl

Who rode with me through this mean old world

Never say die.”

Brilliant as “Molotov” the album’s masterpiece is “If We Were Vampires.” The song captures both the height of sadness and romance in a single concept – that we aren’t going to live forever, but the briefness of what we’ve got is what makes it so poignant. As Isbell puts it:

“It’s not the long flowing dress that you’re in

Or the light coming off of your skin

The fragile heart you protected so long

Or the mercy in your sense of right and wrong”

…

“It’s knowing that this can’t go on forever

Likely one of us will have to spend some days alone

Maybe we’ll get forty years together, but one day I’ll be gone

Or one day you’ll be gone.”

I can’t even type the words without getting a lump in my throat, and Isbell’s singing takes it to a whole other level.

This is an album about so many interconnected things: characters trying to find their way in the world, a contemplation on what kind of world we want that to be, and of all the doubts and anxieties that are a daily part of being human, but not the only part. As Isbell sings on “Hope the High Road”

“I know you’re tired and you ain’t sleeping well

Uninspired and likely mad as hell

But wherever you are I hope the high road leads you home again.”

The Nashville Sound refuses to provide easy answers; it isn’t even sure there are any answers. But in exhorting us to walk the high road, it is one of the most inspiring albums I’ve ever heard.

Best tracks: All tracks, although.

The Concert – September 11, 2017 – Keller Auditorium, Portland

Given how much I loved the new album, and the fact that the show featured not one, but two of my favourite current acts (the opener was Frank Turner) expectations were high for me on this show. For me it was like the alt-country/indie equivalent of the Black Sabbath/Blue Oyster Cult tour in 1980. At 10 years old, I missed that show but there was no way I was missing this one, and Sheila and I built our travel itinerary around making sure we were there.

So did it measure up to the hype in my mind? Yes it did.

Frank Turner and the Sleeping Souls

The opening act was Frank Turner and the Sleeping Souls. When I saw Frank Turner in 2015 at the Neptune in Seattle it was one of the greatest live shows I’d ever seen, and I was curious to see how he was going to translate his talents from a dance hall style venue into a sit-down auditorium and adjust going from headliner to opening act.

The answer was: artfully. Turner is a born showman, and despite coming out to an audience that was about 80% Jason Isbell fans, he seized the place with a raw energy from the get go, rocking out self-affirming anthems like “The Next Storm,” “Recovery” and “Get Better” with a pure joy that got the auditorium’s attention.

Frank is known for getting his audience participating, which was exactly what his hard-core fans expect, but I could tell a good chunk of the Jason Isbell audience wasn’t sure what to make of him. Also, there were more than a few sidelong glances at the Frank Turner army sprinkled through the auditorium singing “we’re not dead yet!” back at their hero in a jubilant, boisterous – and occasionally in tune – fashion.

Through the course of his 9-10 song set, Frank won most of the audience over. He brought a woman up on stage at random and let her play a harmonica solo, and anticipating most of the audience didn’t know just how to sing the “oh-oh-oh-ohs” in “Josephine” he just gave them one note to make noise, and those more knowledgeable filled in the blanks.

He’s better as a headliner in a place where you can dance, but this was still amazing.

Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit

By the time Jason Isbell took the stage, I was more than a little amped up from Frank, but while Isbell’s delivery is a bit more down-home and countrified he kept the energy up. He was also every bit as emotionally true and impactful as Frank, which is no easy task.

Loving his new album as much as I do, I was pretty excited that he played almost the entire record, mixing in three or four songs off of each of his earlier releases along the way for variety. These songs were just the right mix of deep cuts and crowd favourites.

Highlights included heart-wrenching versions of “Elephant” (a song about dying of cancer off of his 2013 album “Southeastern”), “Speed Trap Town” (off of 2015’s “Something More Than Free” and “If We Were Vampires” off the current album. Every one of them put tears in my eyes.

I was disappointed Isbell’s wife and the 400 Unit’s violin player, Amanda Shires, wasn’t with the band but they did a solid job of subtly adjusting the arrangements so the gap wasn’t noticeable. Also guitar player Sadler Vaden, who has a Mike Campbell kind of sound, dropped some solid solos. Isbell is also accomplished on the guitar and the two of them traded lead duties back and forth all night to good effect.

Isbell had the right amount of banter and his Alabama drawl and aw-shucks demeanor are relaxing and authentic.

The only negative musically was during the encore, which I thought was a bit over-amped, but other than that the sound mix was top-notch the whole night.

Visually, there was a surprisingly cool light show, complete with a big tattoo-style anchor design on the back wall that flashed hypnotically in all kinds of different colours.

The fans were appreciative but they weren’t going to break any records for loudest audience. Again, the emotional separation that comes from too much i-Phone recording and not enough soaking in the music was a bit distracting. The guy beside me filmed and took pictures but never applauded once for either artist. It was weird, but whatever.

I would see Isbell again in a heartbeat, though. He is an accomplished songwriter who plays a mean guitar solo, and he sings live with an earnest grace. Taken together with Turner as the opener, this was one of the better concerts I’ve seen in this or any year.

CD Odyssey Disc 1049: David Greenberg and Harpeth Rising

I worked a long day, bought dinner on the way home and I’m squeezing this review in before I host a football pool draft. After that’s over I’ll watch the conclusion of the Roger Federer and Juan Martin Del Potro tennis match.

Sleep is for the dead, my friends.

Disc 1049 is…The End of the World

Artist: David Greenberg and Harpeth Rising

Year of Release: 2012

What’s up with the Cover? An 18-Wheeler, which is not the greatest mode of transportation for the end of the world. It’s imposing enough, and can carry all your stuff but terrible on gas.

Of course if you are some kind of post-apocalyptic warlord like Immortan Joe and you can convert it to a war machine that makes it kind of worth it, but this one just looks like a regular semi-trailer. Although its exhaust does form words, which is kinda cool…

But I digress…on with the rest of the subheadings!

How I Came To Know It: I discovered Harpeth Rising through an article about them in Paste Magazine, and subsequently ordered their entire catalogue (at the time) direct from the band. This was one of those.

How It Stacks Up:  I have four Harpeth Rising albums, but only one “David Greenberg and Harpeth Rising.” Since Greenberg has decided to take top billing here, I can’t really stack it up against the other four. If I could it would land somewhere in the middle.

Ratings: 3 stars

Over a relatively small number of years Harpeth Rising has had many lineups but the one constant is lead vocalist and violinst Jordana Greenberg. On this particular iteration she adds her folk-singing dad, and even gives him top billing. He does write all the songs, so I guess fair is fair.

On albums without dad, Harpeth Rising are an unexpected but delightful mix of chamber music, folk, jazz and pop. It is mostly folk, with the fiddle sounding like a fiddle at least half the time and a banjo keeping time the rest of it. The addition of the elder Greenberg maintains the sound, although his western guitar and Guy Clark-style delivery tends to draw the record more solidly into folk music.

Fortunately, I love folk music and the slight shift served me well. Songs like “Senorita” are fairly stock in their deliberate Mexican stylings and “Goin’ My Way” is very early Bob Dylan (with flourishes of amazing banjo from the incomparable Rebecca Reed-Lunn). Despite these obvious and pervasive influences the songs are solid and succeed on their own merits.

Jordana seems inspired by the presence of Dad on the record, and her violin (or fiddle, depending on what she’s up to) is as good as I’ve heard her play. She could always hit the notes, but on “The End of the World” she reaches another level of emotional intention and restless energy.

The singing duties are shared about evenly between father and daughter. David Greenberg won’t win any singing competitions, but he has a knack for phrasing and a good bit of gravel to make up for any lack of range. I’ve always liked Jordana’s sing-song vocals but she isn’t a powerhouse vocalist either. Her vocals can feel a bit cute, but they contrast well with the earthier sound of David and the whole thing works well. When she switches to violin to provide the lightness to his grit the effect is even better.

The tracks have a nice range between slow and thoughtful and upbeat. There is also a fair bit of social commentary, but they don’t beat you over the head with it, and it never feels preachy or ill-placed.

“Goin’ Goin’ Gone” is one of my favourites; a beat-forward ditty with a ton of energy and a few killer musical solos. It feels very Kentucky bluegrass, and the restless energy matches the lyrics about hitting the road very well. This is a song for heading out before dawn at a fast pace, and continuing to accelerate as the sun comes up.

“Nowhereland” plays slower, but has just as much verve, pushed along again by Reed-Lunn on banjo and an inspired vocal from Jordana. It is an apocalyptic song bemoaning how far we’ve fallen off the road of forgiveness and understanding. It cleverly crosses a slow military beat with an almost hymnal delivery that belies an underlying optimism despite the hatred it decries.

There’s also a fair bit of truck drivin’ imagery and I can envision David Greenberg as a truck driver in a previous life (maybe the current one, for all I know). “Truck Stop Mama” is so rife with truck-drivin’ imagery it almost feels like it is mocking itself, but the elder Greenberg keeps it between the lines.

Overall, I like what David Greenberg adds to the band. I wouldn’t say I like it more or less than Harpeth Rising on their own. I just like it…different.

Best tracks: Goin’ Goin’ Gone, Nowhereland, Truck Stop Mama, Outlaw

CD Odyssey Disc 1048: Bob Seger

I just played two hours of Ulti in the sweltering August heat. It was awesome fun, but I’m knackered. When I’m done this review it is nap time!

Disc 1048 is…Greatest Hits

Artist: Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band

Year of Release: 1994 but featuring music from 1976 to 1994

What’s up with the Cover? Bob Seger tries to look hip and cool, but falls a little short. Sorry, Bob.

How I Came To Know It: I originally had a Bob Seger greatest hits cassette tape that I bought from some guy in bar in exchange for a beer back in the early nineties. It made sense at the time. That tape (like all the others) has been consigned to the Island of Dead Technology. Sheila bought me this CD edition as a gift as part of her ongoing mission to add music to my collection that I wouldn’t buy for myself. Yeah, I know, it is dead tech these days as well, but not for me – at least not yet.

How It Stacks Up:  This is my only Bob Seger album but even if it wasn’t, it is a greatest hits package, so it can’t stack up.

Ratings: Greatest hits albums don’t get rated, because they’re not true albums (even when you throw on two new tracks at the end Bob. More on that later.

Ah, Bob Seger. You silly schmaltzy devil of a rock god. You Platonic ideal of the expression “guilty pleasure”. We all want to mock you but we can’t deny that you write a fine melody and an irresistible hook.

Listening to this album I was reminded of the tape I used to have (there was a lot of crossover) but I also wondered how it was I hadn’t listened to Bob Seger through the seventies and eighties. Probably it is because even in his prime, Seger’s brand of down-home rock and roll and heartfelt groove is more suited to a mature ear. Or to put it a little less kindly, it is Dad Rock.

I’m not a dad, but I know good music when I hear it, and Bob Seger just knows how to write a song. These are solid little rock ditties about workin’ hard, rockin’ hard and the love of a good woman. The topics are so universal that they sometimes can feel bland and corporate, but Bob sings them with a heartfelt gusto that gives them a veritas they otherwise wouldn’t deserve.

Bob is also the master of arrangements. These songs know exactly when to use a guitar, or when to let the piano take the lead. Seger’s vocals are rich and powerful and he never feels like he’s straining for a note (part of this being he carefully writes for his range).

My favourite song on the record, “You’ll Accomp’ny Me” has all of these elements. The piano carries the tune, and the way Bob promises “someday lady you’ll accompany me” you just know it is going to happen. Halfway through the song, a chorus of the ladies add additional oomph, and as the song grooves along Seger throws in “oohs” and “yeahs” and random shouts of “you’ll accompany me!” in just the right spots. Is it schmaltzy? You’re damned right it is, but it is the best kind of schmaltzy.

Seger also speaks for the underdog. “Against the Wind” makes you proud in those moments you stand strong against ill fortune. “Like a Rock” hearkens back to the bravado of youth when you had nothing, but had a spring in your step nonetheless. Decades of overplay on FM radio and corporate commercial use have turned these songs into caricatures of themselves. Hell, maybe they were always caricatures of themselves, but I can’t help but like them. They’re catchy, damn it.

While “You’ll Accomp’ny Me” is my “guilty pleasure” favourite, the best song on the album is “Night Moves.” It is about nothing more exciting than a make-out session at the drive-in, but that Bob makes into an anthem about everything that is great about youth:

“Out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy

Out in the back seat of my ’60 Chevy

Workin’ on mysteries without an clues

Workin’ on our night moves”

Damn, Bob, that’s good stuff but seriously stop with all the apostrophes and spell those words.

At 14 songs and 62 minutes this record also has a lot of filler, which is a particularly bad thing on a Greatest Hits record. A nearly naked Tom Cruise notwithstanding, “Old Time Rock & Roll” is a song that exemplifies the dangers of overplay. It was never a very good song, and after countless high school dances and diner soundtracks I am ready to permanently retire this goofy, soulless attempt at boogie woogie.

This record has two new songs as well: a cover of “C’est La Vie” and something called “In Your Time” which I wish had never been in my time. These songs annoyed me for two reasons. First, they’re just not good, and compare poorly against all the hits Bob has pumped out in his golden years (all the other tracks are from 1976-1986). Second, this is back when bands would try to make long-time fans buy their Greatest Hits package to get two new songs not available elsewhere. In this case I didn’t have any Bob Seger so it didn’t affect me, but seriously Bob, that’s wrong.

There’s lots about loving Bob Seger that seems wrong, but I can’t help it. The guy knows how to write a good song, and I’m not going to deny him his due. I won’t be delving into his complete discography or anything, but this Greatest Hits package is a welcome addition to my collection.

Best tracks: Night Moves, Turn the Page, You’ll Accomp’ny Me, Against the Wind, Main Street, Like a Rock