Friday, June 28, 2024

Vintage Review: Cloverbottom's "Anarchy In The Music City" (1980)

Cloverbottom's Anarchy In The Music City
The long-awaited Cloverbottom EP is finally on the street. For dedicated fans of Nashville’s most visible punk group, this collection of four new wave classics is a delayed Christmas present that just keeps on giving.

Containing such jewels as “Anarchy In Music City,” “Life Is A Game,” “Cottage Cheeseheads,” and “Nuclear War”, this self produced record has captured the raw energy of Cloverbottom. Anyone who has seen this power trio live in town will be able to feel the stage presence that screams out of the grooves on this disc.

If you haven’t experienced new wave music, this EP offers a quickie course. There aren’t any female singers with blonde hair, or fashionable lead singers in skin tight pants. These guys didn’t name themselves after a form of transportation. They took their title from the local mental institution. That alone should give you a hint of their attitude.

If the name isn’t enough, listen to some lines from this record:

Life is a game I ain’t ready to play…
(“Life Is A Game”)

If you Don’t Like Us You Can Leave.
(“Anarchy In Music City”)

And finally

Monotony will drive you insane.
(“Cottage Cheeseheads”)

Rock Strata, Johnny Hollywood and John Elliot (who has since left the band to join Actuals, no the, just Actuals) capture the raw underbelly of Nashville Punk. $2.00 and a trip to New Life Records on Charlotte Ave. will provide a primer and teaser for a new form of Nashville Music.

Review by Thom King, originally published in The Nashville Gazette, 1980 

Nashville's Cloverbottom

 

Monday, June 24, 2024

Vintage Ads: Cloverbottom @ 12th and Porter (1985)

Cloverbottom

Vintage ad for what was arguably Nashville’s first punk rock outfit, Cloverbottom. They released the incendiary “Anarchy In The Music City” 45rpm single in 1980 and ignited a local rock scene that still rolls on today…

Cloverbottom


Friday, June 21, 2024

Vintage Review: Lambchop's OH (ohio) (2008)

Lambchop are a lot like one of those little puzzles that you’ll find on your table at hundreds of country-styled restaurants that dot the American landscape. They’re challenging, aggravating, and ultimately entertaining. Lambchop is often described as a “country” band, but only ‘cause they come from Nashville…truth is, there’s more soul than cornpone, more baroque romanticism than redneck angst in the signature Lambchop sound. The band’s tenth album, OH (ohio), presents a different perspective on the same finely-crafted portrait.

With the band’s ranks held to a mere eight members (from as many as 20), this may be as minimalist a collection as you’ll hear from Lambchop. Frontman Kurt Wagner conceived these songs as solo works, subsequently fleshed out to full band performances, and the result is a stripped-down, albeit still lush musical landscape that is at once both gorgeous and maddeningly hypnotic. Wagner’s oblique lyrics are as inscrutable as ever, bubbling beneath the consciousness to plague your thoughts long after hearing them. Vocals, instrumentation, and production all fit together perfectly, creating an interlocking musical puzzle that will keep the listener involved for hours. (Merge Records, released 2008)

Stand-Out Tracks: “Slipped Dissolved and Loosed,” “National Talk Like A Pirate Day”

Review originally published by Blurt magazine

Lambchop
Lambchop

 

Monday, June 17, 2024

Vintage Review: Justin Townes Earle's The Good Life (2008)

Justin Townes Earle's The Good Life
When you’re the son of a bona fide Americana music legend, and named after one of greatest songwriters of the genre (Townes Van Zandt), expectations are high. With his full-length debut, The Good Life, Justin Townes Earle delivers everything expected of him in spades. Not content to merely mimic his dad’s work, the younger Earle takes his impressive songwriting skills in a number of diverse directions. Whereas his pappy’s music tends to draw more from both rock and folk worlds, the younger Earle instead goes in the other direction, pulling the best from the Tennessee and Texas hillbilly traditions.

Growing up in a musical household, Earle had the opportunity to soak in all sorts of influences, and it shows in his work. An eerily-mature songwriter that is skilled beyond his years, Earle easily weaves together story-songs in his dad’s image, but with his own voice and a widely differing soundtrack. The title track from The Good Life is a delicious ‘60s-styled country throwback that sounds like a classic Faron Young tune, while the heartbreaking “Who Am I To Say” is reminiscent of namesake Van Zandt’s stark folk poetry.

Other songs on The Good Life showcase Earle’s mastery of a diverse range of country styles. “Lone Pine Hill” is a haunting Western dirge and “What Do You Do When You’re Lonesome” is a weepy Texas dancehall ballad. “South Georgia Sugar Babe” is a bluesy, Southern rock/R&B hybrid with gumbo-funk rhythms while “Lonesome And You,” with its mournful steel guitar and slow shuffle, is the sort of honky-tonk country that Ernest Tubb could crank out in his sleep. “Turn Out My Lights” is a delicate, finely-crafted folk ballad…and about as close as Justin gets to sounding like his famous father.

The vocals on The Good Life are warm, certain, and soulful throughout, and producer R.S. “Bobby” Field’s deft hand and extensive roots-music knowledge allowed him to bring out the best in Earle, perfectly capturing the artist’s eclectic sound. With boundless ambition and loads of talent, Earle easily ties together strains of roots-rock, folk-blues, Tex-Mex, Western Swing, and traditional country in the creation of an amazing, remarkable debut album. (Bloodshot Records, released 2008)

Review originally published by the Trademark of Quality (TMQ) blog

Friday, June 14, 2024

Vintage Article: Nashville's Next Big Thing with Be Your Own Pet, De Novo Dahl & Umbrella Tree (2008)

Be Your Own Pet
Be Your Own Pet

It’s taken thirty years, but Nashville’s rock underground, well…it ain’t exactly “subterranean” anymore, innit? No, the cat’s out of the bag now, and the dirt has been removed from the long dormant hopes-and-dreams™ of Nashville’s non-country music scene. Bands like the Kings of Leon, the Pink Spiders, and Paramore have attracted international attention while, shall we say, “artier” bands like Venus Hum have turned out well-respected records for major league labels.

‘twas not always so, my little babies – not so long ago, Nashville was a truly scary place to be in a rock band, or even write about people who were in rock bands. It was just back at the dawn of the ‘90s that the editor of a national music magazine asked the Reverend, in all seriousness, if we wore “shoes down there?” True, this was the pre-millennial dark ages, but even then I distinctly recall Dave Willie sporting a really nice pair of shoes on his feet. Think of what it was like for Jason & the Nashville Scorchers or Webb Wilder the first time they ventured into the big city to play…oh, the stories they could tell you.

Be Your Own Pet’s Get Awkward


Be Your Own Pet's Get Awkward
But I digress…those days are safely behind us, and urban sophisticates have recently realized that not only do we mostly all wear “shoes for industry” these days, but that a Nashville band doesn’t have to wear Nudie suits and throw down with a fiddle to make good music (unless they want to, of course). Three distinctive Nashville bands – Be Your Own Pet, De Novo Dahl, and Umbrella Tree – recently released their sophomore efforts to no little praise and varying degrees of commercial success, helping firm up the Music City’s place on the proverbial map.

Be Your Own Pet has particularly been receiving a lot of love from out-of-towners these days for Get Awkward, and the Reverend has seen the band mentioned favorably in publications from the British motherland to the mysterious Orient; even Tierra del Fuego seems to have joined in the chorus of praise for Nashville’s next big thing. Producer Steven McDonald (of psychedelic-punk pranksters Redd Kross) – perhaps the best possible human to capture the band’s shiny, guitar-heavy, noise-pop sound – returns to his seat behind the board for Get Awkward.  

Get Awkward jumps straight into the fire with the turbo-charged “Super Soaked,” an electric shake-and-bake sizzler that’s straight outta the Detroit rawk songbook. Jemina Pearl’s vocals are strident to a fault (as in earthquake) while Jonas Stein’s rambling guitar delivers aftershocks in waves alongside the song’s explosive rhythms. BYOP had to look deep in the racks at Phonoluxe for the vintage sound of “The Kelly Affair,” a band-on-the-run tale of fun and hijinx in Hollywood that evokes fuzz-drenched ‘60s-era garage-rock with its manic riffing, clever lyrics, and John Eatherley’s muscular drumming.   

Although the band has matured in the year-and-a-half since its young, loud and snotty debut, Get Awkward has plenty of moments where every emotion is overwhelming, every perceived snub an uppercut. “Heart Throb” benefits from whipsmart lyrics, syncopated rhythms led by Nathan Vasquez’s bold bass lines, washes of razor-sharp guitar, and Pearl’s manic, lovesick teen vocal gymnastics. The other side of the coin is “Bitches Leave,” a cold, cold piss-off song with a nifty signature riff and snarling, spiteful vocals. The tribal Bow Wow Wow rhythms of “Zombie Graveyard Party!” are matched by Stein’s sonic guitar-squawk and Pearl’s effusive vocals.

Get Awkward lives up to all the hype, perfectly capturing BYOP’s mix of youthful energy, cluttered instrumentation, and flailing vocals. Be Your Own Pet has been compared once too often to New York’s Yeah Yeah Yeahs, mainly because of the vocal similarities between that band’s Karen O and Pearl’s out-of-control yelp. Sorry, but YYY is soooo yesterday, treading water while looking for a lifesaver. BYOP is the sound of tomorrow, and if they make the same creative strides between Get Awkward and whatever their third album ends up being as they did between their debut and this one, you’ll be seeing a lot more effusive comments in print and on the web about this band in the future.

De Novo Dahl’s Move Every Muscle, Make Every Sound


De Novo Dahl
De Novo Dahl
Compared to Be Your Own Pet, De Novo Dahl has proved a bit more problematic for so-called “music journalists” outside of the critical zone (i.e. within 100 miles of Nashville, including Bowling Green and, of course, Murfreesboro). On one hand, the band delivers a lush, well-crafted brand of pop-influenced rock that is long on melody and short on the sort of attitude that bloggers and benchwarmers in the blue states eat up (and which the aforementioned BYOP delivers in spades).

On the other hand, however, the band dresses like refugees from ‘Olde Nashville,’ clad in fancy vines like the Countrypolitan song-pimps that one used to see traipsing from Music Row to Lower Broadway to hang out in Tootsies. The hipper-than-thou literati just can’t get a handle on De Novo Dahl, ‘though they’ve spilled a lot of ink-and-electrons in the attempt. Further complicating this critical confusion is the fact that the band’s Move Every Muscle, Make Every Sound was released by Roadrunner Records – a label better known for Nickelback and the sort of extreme metal that would make the hair on your toes curl. Thus, De Novo Dahl’s commercial prospects seem questionable from the very beginning.

Regardless, Move Every Muscle, Make Every Sound is a simply delightful album, a wonderfully-constructed collection of throwback pop that would sound as equally at home in the early ‘70s as it does in the new millennium. There’s nothing that’s overtly retro here, or even remotely derivative, just a reckless appropriation of influences ranging from the Beatles and the Kinks to Bowie, the Move, even ELO…in short, all the right stuff at the right time.

The band has the chops to pull off such a hat trick, and De Novo Dahl covers a lot of stylistic ground with Move Every Muscle, Make Every Sound. The whimsical “Shout” is a lofty shooting star featuring Joel Dahl’s slightly-accented Brit-punk vocals, delicious harmonies, and upbeat life-lesson lyrics. “Means to an End” mixes shoegazer sensibilities with a bit o’ feedback, lush backing vocals, and an odd melody that reminds of Revolver-era Beatles. De Novo Dahl gets funky with “Shakedown,” revisiting ‘70s soul with Dahl’s best high falsetto, call-and-response harmonies, and a fat soundtrack of warbling synths, subtle drumwork and wa-wa guitar.

De Novo Dahl’s Move Every Muscle, Make Every Sound
“The Sky Is Falling” revs things up with 100mph drumbeats, fast-paced vocals, roller-coaster keyboards, and an undeniable ‘80s new wave vibe. The somber “Not to Escape” is a melancholy dirge of many hues, Dahl’s sinewy leads bursting out of the clouds of chiming keys, crashing cymbals, and shuffling drumbeats. “Be Your Man” is a whirling dervish of a song, the band taking a fair-to-middlin’ White Stripes/Jet garage-rock concept and cranking up the intensity a notch or six. Dahl’s vocals careen off the sides like a spastic pinball while a steady barrage of sound assaults your senses.

De Novo Dahl does a fine job of melding the band’s disparate personalities into a single, creative whole. The band’s chemistry is such that they emphasis a song’s lyrics with combined efforts. Dahl’s vocals are up front on most songs, but only by default … Serai Zaffiro’s feminine wiles aren’t far behind in the mix, offering a fine counterpoint, followed by the rest of the guys. Matt Hungate’s keyboards provide color while bassist Keith Lowan and drummer Joey Andrews build a solid framework for each song.

Dahl’s six-string work is understated but often elegant, and somewhat underutilized as a punctuation mark within the songs. In those moments when Zaffiro cuts loose with her omnichord, the instrument adds an alien, antediluvian, and entirely unique sound to the band’s material. Add it all up, and Move Every Muscle, Make Every Sound is the sort of album that, while maybe not lighting up the charts right this moment, will nevertheless be “rediscovered” over and over by rock ‘n’ roll archeologists for decades to come.

Umbrella Tree’s The Church & The Hospital


Umbrella Tree
Umbrella Tree
Coming fast down the stretch in their attempt to be Nashville’s next big thing, Umbrella Tree is part of the same complex pop landscape as BYOP and De Novo Dahl, but it’s there that the resemblance ends. Umbrella Tree’s sophomore album, The Church & The Hospital, was released on their own independent Cephalopod Records label. If this charming, sometimes difficult, and totally entertaining album doesn’t net the band a deal, then the Reverend will eat his large-ish, size-14 Reeboks.

The Church & The Hospital is a deceptively engaging album, the songs creeping into your consciousness like some sort of purple plague. Umbrella Tree – the trio of Jillian Leigh, Zachary Gresham, and Derek Pearson – mine the same sort of art-pop vein that the old 4AD label bands once ruled with, but with a distinctly American twist. Whereas many 4AD bands brought a certain level of proper Britannic noblesse to their sound, Umbrella Tree imbues their work with an anarchistic spirit and inherent weirdness that can only come from a people that once started a war with the symbolic act of throwing a few crates of tea in the Boston harbor.

Not that Umbrella Tree isn’t capable of creating songs of immense, shimmering beauty; The Church & The Hospital offers many such moments across its sprawling soundtrack. Leigh and Gresham intertwine their voices beneath the instrumentation, which itself is fueled by Leigh’s delicate keyboards and Gresham’s ethereal fretwork. Drummer Pearson is an integral part of the Umbrella Tree sound, adding blasts of bass drum or clashing cymbals when needed to poke a hole in the thick wall of sound.

Umbrella Tree’s The Church & The Hospital
There’s a concept at work here, interlocking lyrical themes paired with scraps of recurring sound, sometimes operatic and other times slightly cabaret in nature. There’s no single song on The Church & The Hospital that necessarily stands out as a radio track or quick fix for stardom. Instead the band has crafted an album as a unified entity. Taken out of context, songs like “Make Me A Priest” – an enchanting tale with lofty vocals and changing currents – or the confused, clever “Schizophrenia” would hit your ears like a hopeless hodge-podge of sound and chaos. In the company of their neighboring songs on The Church & The Hospital, they fit like pieces in a somewhat surrealistic puzzle, showcasing a band of no little talent and musical ambition.

None of these bands may break-out and become Nashville’s “next big thing,” or even the city’s “first really big thing.” With Be Your Own Pet, De Novo Dahl and Umbrella Tree representing the city, however, I do believe that we’re in good hands...

Article originally posted by Alt.Culture.Guide™ zine, 2008

Monday, June 3, 2024

Vintage Review: The Dusters’ Dang! (2002)

The Dusters’ Dang!
Known as the home of country music, Nashville had a thriving rock scene back during the mid-to-late 1980s, with bands like Jason & the Scorchers (country-punk), the Shakers (Goth-folk), Afrikan Dreamland (blu-reggae), and Practical Stylists (power pop), among many others, exploring various musical styles and stylistic fusions. One of the most popular outfits on the scene at the time was the Dusters, a no-frills blues-rock band whose hard-charging sound was fueled by frontman Ken McMahan’s raging fretwork and soul-twang vocals.

At the band’s early 1990s peak, the Dusters received airplay on college radio and toured steadily throughout the South, songs like “This Ain’t No Jukebox…We’re A Rock ‘n’ Roll Band” and an incendiary cover of Savoy Brown’s “Hellbound Train” thrilling audiences from one side of Dixie to the other. Signed to an independent label in the Music City, the band was unable to break out of the Nashville rock ghetto in spite of a touring sponsorship from Miller Beer, and by the mid-‘90s the Dusters, like so many indie rockers, were crushed by the murky sounds coming out of Seattle. McMahan launched a solo career that resulted in three acclaimed albums for the French Dixie Frog label (which had also released the Dusters’ 1992 album, Unlisted Number) before touring as part of Dan Baird’s (the Georgia Satellites) band.

The Dusters’ Dang!


In 2002, the best and brightest Dusters line-up – guitarist McMahan, bassist David Barnette, and drummer Jeff Perkins – reunited for some Nashville-area shows which, in turn, led to a return to the studio by the band to record Dang! with Baird producing. Although the CD went out of print nearly as rapidly as it was released, it’s well worth digging up for the dedicated fan of roots/blues-rock, and is currently available digitally. McMahan leads his classic power trio line-up through a baker’s dozen of red-hot blues-rock romps, about 90% of them original tunes, with only a sparse handful of covers thrown in for flavor.

Dang! cranks up the amps with the album-opening “Goin’ Up Easy,” a McMahan co-write with esteemed Music City scribe Tommy Womack, the song a steamy slab of locomotive piledriver rhythms and blistering fretwork. The menacing “Mexico,” co-written with Baird, who also adds rhythm guitar if I’m not mistaken, is the best ZZ Top song that that lil’ old band from Texas never recorded, full of muscular riffs, endless swagger, and a sordid storyline that would make the Senoritas blush. The song’s uber-cool false ending is complimented by a hot, brief bluesy outro. McMahan’s “Red Sun” is a funky little sucker, with a sly rhythmic undercurrent, a mind-bending recurring riff, and rolling guitar solos that are warmer than a runaway bonfire.  

Cadillac Blues


You’ll find more than a little Delta blues spirit in the dark-hued “Killin’ Time,” a malevolent tale of violence and retribution with a swamp-blues vibe, a slow-burning groove, and McMahan’s shimmy-shake rattletrap guitar. The discerning ear will pick up all sorts of influences here, overt and covert alike, from Robert Johnson to Savoy Brown, from John Lee Hooker to the aforementioned ZZ Top. “Night Is Gone” offers up some of McMahan’s best guitar tone, kind of a cross between Bluesbreakers-era Clapton and Stevie Ray Vaughan, the song evincing just a hint of boogie-rock within its emotional, lovestruck lyrics. McMahan’s six-string work here is taut and structured but still imaginative within the rhythmic framework

McMahan’s “Poison Love” is built on a classic Bo Diddley beat, but quickly beats it into submission with a revved-up rhythm that would sound positively punkish (think Black Keys or Immortal Lee County Killers) if not for McMahan’s soulful Southern workingman’s twang vox and the song’s femme fatale subject matter. “Barn Door” has a heart that is pure Chicago blues, the song itself mixing its metaphors with an urban soundtrack and a storyline that has one foot in roots-rock and the other in country-blues, while another McMahan original, “Cadillac Blues,” is a smoldering sample of barroom blues, wearing its heart on its sleeve with low-slung guitar licks and subtle rhythms. One of the album’s few covers, of the great Chuck Berry’s “Don’t You Lie To Me,” throws a little New Orleans barrelhouse flavor in with Neal Cappellino’s spirited piano-pounding running like the Mississippi beneath McMahan’s fluid vocals and a sturdy rhythmic framework.  
   

The Reverend’s Bottom Line


Blowing back onto the blues scene like a tornado, the Dusters have made major strides during the band’s ten or so years apart. Whereas the band had been enjoyable on record, if sometimes derivative in their approach, they were never anything less than devastating while on stage, and they could never capture their live performance dynamic on tape. As the three band members continued to grow and evolve while playing with other musicians during the ensuing years, however, they brought this maturity to the studio when making Dang!

McMahan’s guitarplay, always the band’s strong suite, has been honed to a dangerous edge through the years. The rhythm section of David Barnette and Jeffrey Perkins has developed into an explosive combination, unobtrusive when need be, a brick to your face when the situation calls for such. But the Dusters’ secret weapon may be McMahan’s skilled songwriting chops, seasoned by life and experience into an impressive bit of street poetry that combines a Southern rock heart with the soul of the blues. Dang! proves, without a doubt, that the Dusters are bad to the bone, with a black cat moan, and a lucky mojo hand. Can you dig it? (Lucky Hand Records, released October 21, 2002)