For almost two decades now, Aashid Himons has been Nashville’s most adventuresome musician. Sure, there are lots of players making $1,000 a session up and down “Music Row” who claim to be able to play varying styles of music, but few of them give up their cushy day jobs to blaze any new trails. From the moment Aashid first set foot in the “Music City,” however, he’s done whatever strikes his fancy, whether that might be playing reggae, blues, space music or even a bit of country.
From his work with the first incarnation of the wonderfully talented blu-reggae outfit Afrikan Dreamland through a solo career and various collaborations with other artists, Himons has reveled in the sheer joy of making music, commercial considerations be damned. Recently, with the release of Mountain Soul, Aashid sojourned back to his hillbilly roots and created an inspired collection of songs that draw upon a musical tradition almost as old as the Appalachian Mountains themselves.
Aashid’s West Virginia Hills
West Virginia Hills is a live document of many of the songs from Mountain Soul, performed by Himons and his Mountain Soul Band at Gibson’s Café Milano club in Nashville. Comprised of some of the most underrated musical talents that the Nashville scene has to offer, the Mountain Soul Band is up to the task of recreating these songs in a live setting. It is a testament to Aashid’s talents and the respect provided him by Nashville’s best musicians that Aashid can get artists of this caliber together for such a performance. (I count at least three successful solo artists on this roster as well as former members or players with artists like Lisa Germano, the Cactus Brothers and Bone Pony.)
The material on West Virginia Hills is a spirited mix of blues, bluegrass, roots rock and country with elements of Celtic and African music. With spiritual and musical influences that range from the highest mountaintop in Appalachia to the lowest cotton field in the Mississippi Delta, the performances here possess the soul and fervor of a church revival and the energy and electricity of a mosh pit at any punk show. Although many of the songs are originals, such as the joyful title track or the Delta-styled “Country Blues,” there are also the covers expected of such a project, musical homages to the artists who created this music: folks like Willie Dixon, Blind Willie McTell, and Muddy Waters. Aashid’s “The Captain’s Song” is another highlight of the Mountain Soul album performed here live.
The Reverend’s Bottom Line
There are fewer and fewer artists these days willing to “walk on the wild side” and embrace styles of music that are completely without commercial potential. Some, like Bruce Springsteen’s flirtation with folk music or Steve Earle’s recent bluegrass project, are natural outgrowths of the artist’s roots. In other instances, however, as with Aashid Himons and the members of the Mountain Soul Band, it is done out of a sheer love and respect for the music they’re performing. The material presented with much skill and reverence on West Virginia Hills is more than a mere throwback to another era – it’s also the root of all the music we enjoy today. For that alone, Aashid and the Mountain Soul Band deserve a loud “thanks!” (Soptek Records, released 1999)
Aashid Himonshas been a fixture of Nashville’s non-country music scene for long that it’s easy to take him for granted. One of the founders of the near-legendary “blu-reggae” band Afrikan Dreamland during the early-1980, Aashid has been the voice of conscious of the Music City’s alternative culture for almost two decades now. Whether as a musician exploring the depths of reggae, space music, or the blues; a documentary filmmaker; host of the influential Aashid Presents television show; or as a crusader for many social causes, Aashid’s multi-media talents have always been intelligent, vital, and thought-provoking.
Aashid’s Mountain Soul
Nonetheless, Aashid’s latest musical effort – the Mountain Soul CD – comes as a surprise in spite of his past track record as an innovator and trailblazer. A collection of country blues, hillbilly folk, and other traditionally-styled music, Aashid has shown us yet another facet of his immense talent with Mountain Soul’s enchanting performances. An African-American with his roots in the mountains of West Virginia, Himons explains the lineage of this material in the CD’s liner notes. In the harsh hills of Virginia and West Virginia, Kentucky and Tennessee, African slaves often played music alongside the poor Irish and Scottish immigrants of the area. The resulting collaboration created a folk music tradition that spawned such genres as gospel, bluegrass, blues and country music.
To be honest, there aren’t many musicians these days exploring the artistic milieu that Mountain Soul showcases so nobly. On Mountain Soul, Aashid works alongside some of Nashville’s best – and most underrated – musicians, folks like Giles Reaves, fiddle wizard Tramp, and bassist Victor Wooten. Himons has created a mesmerizing song cycle that incorporates original songs written in the authentic signature of the hills as well as a handful of timeless classics. Aashid’s commanding baritone is perfectly suited to this material, whether singing a soulful, blues-infused cover of Jimi Hendrix’s “Voodoo Child,” the mournful spiritualism of Rev. Gary Davis’ “You Got To Move,” or on originals like the moving “Stranger In Paradise” or with the talking blues and nifty guitar work on “The Crazy Blues.”
One of my personal favorites on Mountain Soul is “Mr. Bailey,” Aashid’s tribute to the first star of the Grand Ole Opry, harmonica wizard Deford Bailey. A talented and charismatic African-American musician from East Tennessee, Bailey’s lively performances popularized the Opry radio broadcast in the thirties and helped launched the careers of such country legends as Roy Acuff and Bill Monroe. Tragically, Bailey’s contributions to the Opry and American music have been forgotten. It has long been Aashid’s crusade to get Bailey his long-deserved place in the Country Music Hall of Fame, and this song is just another reminder of that glaring injustice.
The Reverend’s Bottom Line
Mountain Soul is definitely not an album for the casual user of music, requiring more than a three minute, radio-influenced and MTV-bred attention span. Although the album’s style and often simple instrumentation might not seem so upon first listen, these are frightfully complex songs – musically multi-layered and emotionally powerful. This is music as old as the earth itself, its origins in the blood and sweat and tears of the common people who created it.
With Mountain Soul, Aashid Himons has paid an honor to both the roots of all popular modern music and the forgotten artists who wrote it. Mountain Soul is an artistically and spiritually enriching listening experience, a musical trip through time that will clear the cobwebs out of your ears, rekindle the fire in your heart and remind you of the reasons you began to love music in the first place. (Gandibu Music, released 1998)
You may not have heard of singer, songwriter, and guitarist David Olney and, if not, that’s your loss, and your soul is that much poorer for it. While young flash-in-the-pan indie rockers a third of his age grab blog headlines and barrels of virtual ink on the web, Olney has quietly been building a catalog of some of the most impressive music ever created on this spinning orb.
When the Deal Goes Down is as good – if not better – than anything Olney has done to date, partially because the guy’s a true blue talent whose muse seemingly never shuts up, and partly by his decision to bring Nashville blues guitarist Mark Robinson into the fold to play on, and co-produce the album. The inclusion of Robinson’s immense talents adds another dimension to Olney’s enormous musical palette, and he puts his co-producer to good use playing alongside longtime musical foil Sergio Webb – one of the most spectacular six-string talents on the planet who you’ve also never heard of – as well as his band of usual suspects, skilled musicians capable of breathing life and energy into Olney’s creations.
David Olney’s When the Deal Goes Down
Olney opens When the Deal Goes Down with a bang, the title track a shady entreaty that sets the stage for the songs that follow, the singer setting down the rules with the almighty, a sort of prayer set to an energetic soundtrack propelled by Justin Amaral’s vigorous drumbeats and spotlighting the six-string talents of Webb and Robinson. The song leaves more questions behind than it answers, but it’s an up-tempo romp that Olney gets to really work out on, his defiant vocals more demanding than pleading. By contrast, “Little Bird (What I Do)” is one of those densely atmospheric, almost eerie folk-blues analogies that Olney excels at, his somber vocals perfectly matched by Webb’s elegant fretwork and Tomi Lunsford’s angelic backing harmonies.
The laid-back vibe of “Soldier of Misfortune” takes on an exotic air thanks to Webb’s intricate guitar lines, but it’s Olney’s gift for wordplay and his sonorous vocals that drive the romantic tale into truly emotional territory. Jen Gunderman’s delicate piano fills emphasize the lyrics, while Robinson’s acoustic guitar adds welcome texture to a truly enchanting performance. Olney’s cover of Australian folk-rock guitarist/songwriter Bill Jackson’s wonderful “Something In Blue” fits like a glove, Jackson’s lyrics displaying more than a little Olney influence, and Olney’s performance here honoring the song nicely. The song takes on a Western lilt with Webb’s banjo plucking and Olney’s acoustic fretwork, while Olney’s mournful vocals are matched perfectly by Robinson’s expressive, bluesy solo, which rides low in the mix alongside Amaral’s lively percussion.
Scarecrow Man
The opening lyrics of Olney’s “Scarecrow Man” describe a coming storm, and that’s exactly what the song sounds like…the fearful, silent calm before the thunderclaps and the falling curtains of rain. The song sits on the edge of a knife blade throughout its entirety, Olney’s forceful vocals slowly reeling out a tension-filled, tragic tale while the percussion rumbles and the guitars strike like lightning behind the menacing vocals and the swelling danger. You just know that somebody’s not going to get out of this story alive. “Why So Blue?,” on the other hand, is a smoky ballad that emphasizes Webb’s weeping lap steel guitar and Amaral’s even-handed brushwork, the song’s rhythmic foundation held down by Daniel Seymour’s underrated and often understated bass lines. Robinson throws in some scraps of guitar for effect, and the result is a jazzy little vamp that would be equally at home in 1954 as it is in 2014.
Olney swerves onto blues-rock turf with the raucous “Roll This Stone,” the song picking up a sort of 1990s Bonnie Raitt groove with its deep rhythms and Robinson’s slinky slide-guitar licks. Olney’s vocals here are gruffer and grittier than anywhere else on the album, growling and barking their way above the mix as the band lays down a muscular, but not overpowering rhythmic backdrop. The lovely “No Trace” brings Olney back to more familiar territory, the song’s Spanish flavor enhanced by Gunderman’s subtle accordion riffs and the singer and Webb’s intertwined acoustic guitars. It’s a gentle ballad that displays one of Olney’s more wistful set of lyrics and world-weary vocal performances.
When the Deal Goes Down ends with “Big Blue Hole,” the song itself a complete 180-degree turn from the opening track, and one of the odder entries in Olney’s extensive songbook. Lyrically, it sounds more than a little like a Tom Waits screed, Olney’s seemingly stream-of-consciousness lyrics alluding to the finality of oblivion, delivered above a cacophonous soundtrack that is scrubbed to a rough grit by Webb and Robinson’s serrated-edge guitars. Olney’s vocals become surprisingly kinetic as the singer name checks talents like Amy Winehouse and Kurt Cobain above an instrumental abyss, concluding that “heaven ain’t nothing but a big blue hole.” It’s a powerful, moving performance and a heck of a way to close the album.
The Reverend’s Bottom Line
The bottom line is that David Olney is the true heir to Townes Van Zandt, a thoughtful and thought-provoking songwriter and mesmerizing performer that wears his hard-won experience like a badge of honor. Much like Van Zandt, Olney brings country and folk influences to his songs, but he also imbues his performances with a punk-rock intensity and attitude.
Young songwriters would do well to listen up, because Olney puts all of you wannabe whippersnappers to shame with the vision and storytelling insight that only a grizzled veteran of four decades in the trenches can bring. It’s a testament not only to Olney’s talent but his enduring muse that some 20 albums into a career spent flying beneath the mainstream radar, he can deliver a musical tour de force like When the Deal Goes Down and hold his head up proudly! (Deadbeet Records, released July 8, 2014)
I dunno, just when I think that this whole promising alt-country thing has run
its inevitable course, someone comes along to renew my faith in the ghost of
Gram Parsons. Singer/songwriter
Pete Berwick
has been walking that ‘Lonesome Highway’ all by himself for more years than he’d
probably care to add up, but in the hallowed tradition of Hank, JC, Gram, and
all those other cosmic troubadours that ran afoul of Nashville’s corporate Music
Row and decided to just do the damn thing their way, Berwick continues to amaze
and astound with each new collection of songs.
I’m proud to say that
Berwick is a friend of mine, and Peter knows me well enough to know that I’d
call bullshit if he dared to deliver anything short of greatness. No worries,
‘cause Give It Time is his latest, a near-perfect melding of country and
rock music, Berwick channeling the reckless energy and boundless enthusiasm of
Hank Williams and Elvis Presley in creating an album that leans heavily towards
the punk side of the cowpunk equation, the singer and songwriter sounding as
pissed-off and proud as any nineteen-year-old. After decades suffering the
indignities and insults of the music biz, Berwick remains a streetwalkin’
cheetah with a heart full of napalm, and with Give It Time he’s once
again rolled the bones and come up with snake-eyes.
The
album-opening “Renegade” is a defiant statement of purpose, an outlaw credo
delivering with an unimaginable fury that is as hardcore punk in spirit as
anything that you’ll hear from either the punk-rock or alt-country crowd. With
unbridled guitars chomping at your eardrums, syncopated rhythms and fierce
vocals deliver the (autobiographical?) tale of living fast, dying young, and
leaving behind a burned-out corpse. Berwick slows the pace only slightly for “I
Keep Waiting”, an unabashed rocker with a heart of gold, swirling guitars and
bash-crash rhythms creating a disconcerting wall of sound on top of which
Berwick lays down his whiskey-soaked vocals and one of the greasiest, most
fulfilling guitar solos you’ll ever hear. In the distant background, Jason
Botka’s honky-tonk piano-pounding sounds like the din creeping out of a
back-alley barroom.
“Won’t Give It Up” is another crucified rocker
that displays Berwick’s deft touch as a wordsmith, the song’s blistering
soundtrack pumped up by Berwick’s non-stop verbal barrage. Shaking a bloody fist
at the record-making establishment, Berwick spits out muscular lines like “you
wanna see scars, I got ‘em”; “the world don’t care if you live or die, one man
laughs while another cries”; and “gotta make a stand for something, ain’t
settling for nothing”; and “tell me are you really satisfied, do you think that
it’s too late to try, maybe for you but not for me…I won’t give it up!”
Nashville’s star-making machinery may have turned its back on Berwick and his
fellow travelers on the fringe of “polite” country music, but this is one hombre
that ain’t going down without a fight, not while there’s still one last breath
and a chance to spit in authority’s face.
Even the ballads on
Give It Time (“My Heart Is On Hold”) rattle and clank like rusty
machinery beneath the weight of the songwriter’s angst and frustration. Berwick
imbues the song with so much heartache and anguish that you’ll bury your head
under the bedcovers for a week if you approach the tune without caution. None of
the songwriting-by-committee that creates many of Music Row’s hits these days
comes anywhere close to expressing the sort of emotion and fire that you’ll find
in “My Heart Is On Hold,” the song’s conflicted protagonist turning his back on
love to venture off into the uncertain badlands walked by lonesome wanderers
from Ricky Nelson and Dion to Bruce Springsteen and Steve Earle. To lighten up
the load a bit after better than a half-dozen mind-numbing exercises in
seriously heartfelt songwriting, the humorous rave-up “Beer” is a cleverly glib
ode to that golden-brown honky-tonk beverage favored worldwide.
Berwick is an outlaw and outcast by choice, not by marketing, and
the magic displayed by “Falling From the Circle of Love” shows that he can write
commercial country fare with the best of ‘em…hell, better than just about any of
them, really, and some smart label suit could score a big hit for one of his
artists with this elegant love song. That would make ol’ Pete a bundle of
well-deserved cash, and besides, nobody is going to do the song better,
Berwick’s leathery vocals standing in stark contrast to the song’s elegant
construction and Botka’s wonderful piano-work. “The Sadness In Your Eyes” is
another fine romantic moment, kind of bittersweet and tear-stained but evidence
of the deepness of Berwick’s talent, a Dylanesque ballad with sweeping grandeur
and finely-crafted lyrics that, again, in the right hands, could earn the
songwriter a truck full o’ cash and accolades. Berwick’s breaking-heart delivery
could never be equaled, however, his weathered vocals balanced on the edge of
tears, accompanied by female backing harmonies and a filigree acoustic guitar
solo that is simply outstanding.
Ten songs in, you figure that
Give It Time has run its course, and you’d be as wrong as you could be to
overlook “When”. This epic stream-of-consciousness rant is Berwick’s “Eve of
Destruction”, his “Jungleland”, his “Positively 4th Street” all rolled into one
massive, monster, six-minute-plus song. “When” opens with a spacey, almost
psychedelic guitar-driven intro before Berwick’s battered acoustic chimes in and
the vocals jump off… “how long must we wait” Berwick screams towards the
heavens. “As the road goes on and on, how will we know when we are there?” he
asks, “time is a deceiver that’s got us in its grasp.” Hell, Berwick throws out
enough ideas, concepts, and questions in this one tune to fuel six or eight
other songs. Man’s longstanding philosophical conundrums are echoed in Berwick’s
existential “how long must we wait?” In this case, though, the song only gets
stronger, louder, and more strident as it rolls along, Berwick’s tone growing in
urgency, his questions more potent, his anger and frustration more apparent as
the instrumentation swells to a cacophonic assault. It’s like Berwick’s brain
busted open and all the shit that’s been mugging him for years comes pouring out
in one powerful, uncensored blast of white light/white heat. In the end, no
answers are to be had, just a song that is rock ‘n’ roll at its core, and the
nagging, enduring final question “how long must we
wait?”
A lot of pundits have
spilled a lot of ink (and electrons) talking about the end of the music
industry…well, Pete Berwick is dancing on the graves of all those Music Row
naysayers, and with Give It Time he takes the D.I.Y. aesthetic to an
entirely different level. There are few artists that will create an album this
personal, this emotional, and this powerful in this year, or any other for that
matter…the kids on the indie-rock tip just aren’t ready and willing to reveal
themselves so openly, no matter what little lyrical clues they send their
audience. Give It Time is the real deal, though, a postcard from the edge
from a middle-aged country-rocker who has looked into the abyss and stomped all
over his inner demons, doubts, and frustrations to emerge on the other side even
stronger and more pissed off than before. Let’s hope that Berwick continues to
make music as engaging, vulnerable, and potent as that on Give It Time,
‘cause dammit, the man is speaking for all of us who want, and deserve something
better from our entertainment than Taylor Swift and Rascal Flatts. (Shotgun
Records)
Review originally published by Blurt magazine, 2011
