Month: May 2002

Categories
Opinion

New Blood

Chief among the potential pitfalls of turning the local music poll we introduced in these pages a year ago into an annual feature is that nothing would change. This, after all, is a city consumed with the past, where, oblivious to the cultural paradigm shift of a quarter century ago, some folks still seem to be waiting for the glory days of Sun and Stax to reemerge. A place where it seems some aging bohemians still expect the Grifters to dislodge Creed from the modern-rock charts. We were happy last year when Elvis, Otis, and B.B. (two of whom actually got votes) didn’t duke it out for the title of “most vital artist in Memphis music today.” So it seemed entirely possible that last year’s Top 10 would be repeated verbatim.

Thankfully, that didn’t happen, and the proof is on this issue’s cover. Beale Street bluesboy Richard Johnston (you can see him out on the street, just like Furry Lewis in the days of yore) finished a strong second, and singer-songwriter extraordinaire Cory Branan tied for third (with the Reigning Sound) after not making the Top 10 at all last year. And while Branan was a near-miss a year ago off the buzz of his yet-to-be-released debut album, Johnston was just another name among the “others receiving votes.” But, this year, the dynamic duo stormed the charts, in the process conveying the sense that they’re the locus of a lot of the energy and excitement in the local music scene right now.

As we did last year, we mailed out ballots to approximately 100 Memphians with a professional interest in the local music scene — writers, record store managers/clerks, radio programmers, club owners/bookers, and people otherwise engaged in the local music industry. As with last year, we asked them to name the five most “vital” artists in Memphis music today. We also added a couple of new categories for this year, asking for our voters’ opinions on the best local album of the past year and which young or relatively new artist should be “picked to click” in the coming year.

Disappointingly, but not surprisingly, more than half of those sent ballots did the American thing and stayed away from the polls, though our pool of 42 respondents (the same number as last year, though not the same 42) still represents a revealing peek at what the people who (presumably) care most about the local music scene are excited about.

Branan and Johnston weren’t the Top 10’s only newcomers. Last year, the Grifters (with solo votes for singer/guitarist David Shouse) finished a too-high fourth off a few (admittedly fantastic) reunion gigs and wishful thinking. This year, Shouse’s new band, the Bloodthirsty Lovers, finished a more appropriate seventh. And unstoppable bluesman Alvin Youngblood Hart leaps to number six, this year’s voters making up for last year’s shameful omission.

Dropping out to make way for Johnston, Branan, and Hart were the defunct or at least on-hiatus Big Ass Truck and Pawtuckets and out-of-sight, out-of-mind Lucero, who, with their sophomore album stuck in the on-deck circle and a dramatically stepped-up touring schedule that’s kept them out of town, took a tumble from three to 14.

And how have we managed to go this far without mentioning our repeat winners, the North Mississippi Allstars? They are the perfect Memphis band — tied to the past both personally and musically yet making things happen in the present. They remained strong in the past year, with a new album and a passel of other projects, and were justly rewarded. And with Johnston and Hart joining the Allstars, that makes half of our top six blues artists. Could any other alternative weekly in any other city of comparable size conduct a similar poll and get such a result? Probably not. But it just goes to show that the blues may be a niche genre in most markets, but in Memphis, it’s still lifeblood.

Also notable is the relative lack of hard rock and hip hop beyond the Three 6 camp (only one vote for Gangsta Blac, who released the best local rap album of the past year), a clear deficiency attributable to little response from commercial-radio types on the mailing list and hip-hop’s smaller live presence in relation to the city’s rock and roots scenes. Another, more troubling trend (or, sadly, just a perpetual state) is the lack of women artists among the finishers. On this score, the Top 20 contain only four partial qualifiers — Eighty Katie with drummer Amy McDonald, Automusik’s female rock units, Three 6’s side attractions, and the Lost Sounds’ local Queen of Rock, Alicja Trout — with a mere smattering of female artists among the also-rans.

I guess I can’t get out of here without revealing my own picks. After being as dutiful in my respect for “significance” as the electorate-at-large last year, this year I went with what seemed to be the popular route and voted with my ears and eyes though still abiding by my self-imposed rule of restricting my ballot to artists who have released new music over the past year, thus excluding perennial faves such as Di Anne Price, Lucero, and Alvin Youngblood Hart (who, nonetheless, deserved every mention he got this year). My votes for most vital artist/band: 1) Cory Branan, 2) The Reigning Sound, 3) The Lost Sounds, 4) The Bloodthirsty Lovers, 5) Richard Johnston; for best album: Cory Branan’s The Hell You Say; for Picked-to-Click: Snowglobe.

Over the next several pages, you can read profiles on this year’s Top 10 as well as Picked-to-Click winner Snowglobe and read what our voters had to say about artists in and out of the Top 10. You can also read about one of the best things to happen to local music in quite some time, LiveFromMemphis.com.

Our 42 voters sang the praises of an astounding 95 local artists this year. As always, someone who cares a lot about music cares about each one of them, and that should be reason enough to check them out.

Categories
News The Fly-By

Beating the Odds

Every situation is what you make of it,” says John Bannister. After losing all of his immediate family members in less than eight months, the 18-year-old speaks from experience.

John’s family lived in Tucumcari, New Mexico, where his father was the district attorney. Five years ago, the stress of work became too much, and John’s father took his own life, leaving John, his mother, and two older siblings. Eight months later, John’s remaining family members were killed in a car accident, leaving him an orphan.

In addition to losing loved ones, John has had to adjust to moving from his New Mexico home to Collierville, where he lives with an aunt and uncle. The Collierville High School senior has maintained a 3.1 GPA and was junior class president and a four-year member of the football team.

After graduation, John will attend the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign on a Marine ROTC scholarship. He plans on becoming an attorney. “I’m a regular guy,” he says. “I’m not a big fan of pity. I’m looking forward to college, where not everybody knows who you are or what your story is.”

John is just one of six area youngsters chosen as the Children Defense Fund’s ninth annual Beat the Odds Memphis (BTOM) winners. Chosen by BTOM and a community selection committee, the winners are picked for their success in the face of adversity. They will be honored with a banquet and an awards ceremony at Lindenwood Christian Church on May 9th.

“These kids have faced obstacles that in a normal situation might be overwhelming, but for some reason these kids have a resolve that hasn’t taken them to the bottom,” says BTOM board chair Theresa Okwumabua. “They have overcome great odds.”

Toshika House also knows how to make the most of a bad situation. Seven years ago, at age 10, Toshika’s mother died of cancer, leaving her the oldest of five brothers and sisters. After first moving from Chicago to Milwaukee, the children landed in Memphis, living with one of Toshika’s great aunts.

The various transitions were too much for Toshika, who became withdrawn. “I was angry about my mom’s death,” she says. “The moves and everything were hard because I didn’t understand.”

Through the love and support of her great aunts and teachers, Toshika has blossomed into a well-adjusted, 17-year-old Carver High School junior. After being teased for being a slow learner, Toshika has advice for other youth: “Never give up. Always believe in yourself and do your best.”

Not only has Josh Lee had to overcome the death of his mother a year and a half ago, he has also had the responsibility of being mother and father to his seven younger siblings and two nephews.

At 20, Josh has given up his classes at Christian Brothers University. He has no time for a girlfriend and considers raising his siblings “a privilege.” “The option [to become their guardian] was always mine,” he says. “I never feel cheated out of my own life. They are my whole world; whatever I need, they are there.”

As a sophomore at Christian Brothers High School, Wilson Phillips has been on the honor roll every six-week period and has a 3.62 GPA. He has not missed a day of school since first grade. While these are achievements in themselves, Wilson has accomplished all of this while battling cerebral palsy.

Wilson has been through walkers, crutches, and casts battling his illness, but now his determination has enabled him to walk independently. “I’m very pleased with where I’m at right now,” he says. “My parents, grandparents, and extended family have always encouraged me and have been brutally honest with me as well.” Wilson hopes to one day become a journalist. “It is my firm belief that God has allowed me to live this life to influence others but also to allow me to experience the opportunities that a normal child could receive.”

Torsia Arnold’s childhood scars run deep. She and her three sisters were born to a drug-abusing mother. When she was 7, her mother was incarcerated, and the girls were sent to live with their grandmother.

Torsia has gone on to excel at Melrose High School with a 4.0 GPA. She is a member of the National Honor Society, Future Homemakers of America, and Bridge Builders. She plans to attend Tennessee State University and major in speech communications. As tears roll down her face, Torsia says her future includes marriage and a career helping students but no children of her own. Her past has closed her heart to this.

Tiffany Sumlin, 12, is the youngest of the BTOM honorees, but with her bright smile and optimism, she seems to have wisdom beyond her years. Sumlin and her mother left Louisiana last year for a new life in Memphis. Though they initially lived in a shelter, Tiffany was undaunted. She was selected to the cheerleading squad at Airways Middle School, participates in the drama club, and is trying to improve her grades, which suffered during the search for permanent housing.

“I like the way I am. I wouldn’t change anything,” says Tiffany. “God put me into this situation for a reason. Some way, somehow, I know that I will make it.”

In addition to the six youths, Dr. Rene Friemoth Lee, director of the Bodine School, will also be honored for her work with youngsters. Lee says her greatest accomplishment has been to make the Bodine School a “nurturing environment for kids who have been beaten down, called names, and suffered all types of humiliation.”

Tickets to the BTOM awards program are $25. Call 272-2469 for more information.

Categories
Music Record Reviews

Picked-To-Click

Just as there seemed to be no other option for the 2001-2002 NBA Rookie of the Year than the Memphis Grizzlies’ own dunquistador, Pau Gasol, it seemed inevitable that the local band “picked to click” was going to be Snowglobe.

Having developed quite a local following, they were able to successfully translate their live musical alchemy into an incredibly vibrant recorded debut. The result, Our Land Brains, is a lush, indefatigable affair — a shadow box brimming with baubles of somber whimsy. Its title had me convinced that it was some lysergic anagram, and for three days straight, I fruitlessly attempted to unravel its meaning.

Snowglobe consists of four Memphians barely old enough to have graduated from Shirley Temples to Rob Roys. Brad Postlethwaite and Tim Regan are the principal songwriters, perpetually engaged in friendly rivalry. Brandon Robertson and Jeff Hulett admirably anchor the rhythm section. But none of their roles are rigidly defined. On stage, they usually switch up instruments midstream, and the recording process has been an organically collaborative one.

The band’s moniker was actually coined by Brian Winterrowd, their puckish ex-percussionist. “So he came up with the name and then you canned him,” I jived during a recent interview, and the band quickly countered with facetious tales of Winterrowd’s Crüe-esque whore-mongering and “ice-running” — whatever the hell that is — which were responsible for his dismissal.

They all liked the sound of “snowglobe,” but it was their fellow musician, Shelby Bryant, who later granted the appellation tenor, saying, “It’s such a great name because the songs are like little white snowglobes. A kind of miniature dreamworld that you visit when you put the song on.”

“Yeah, that’s what we meant all along,” the band members contend.

Our Land Brains is a surprisingly opulent first record. Its psychedelic luster is even more remarkable when one learns that the band handled the production duties themselves. While they all seem to enjoy the dynamic discourse of playing live shows, recording seems to be the favorite activity of most of the members. As Robertson says, “There are less limitations. You can’t fit an orchestra onstage, but you can cram one into the machine.”

And cram they do. You’ll hear grand piano, timpani, flugelhorn, and a whole spectrum of strings. Band members would often sneak down to the University of Memphis music department and recruit some willing student. “We would hear some badass violin player practicing down the hall and we’d ask them if they had 10 minutes to learn a song,” they say.

The opener, “Waves Rolling,” is a melancholy ode to radio that is in a constant state of unfolding. “Big City Lights” is a great sun-drenched number with a hint of country that will have you scouring Our Land Brains for the old Brother Record logo on the label. Their song titles and lyrics are refreshingly free of obtuse metaphors and indulgent non sequiturs — “Anthem,” “Beautiful,” “Muse,” “Smiles and Frowns.” Even “The Song That Frustrates Us” was indeed a song that well, frustrated them. “It was probably the last song that we recorded,” Robertson says. “We had recorded it three times prior to that. They were all horrible. We had spent close to $900 trying to get it right and it never worked out.” They even drove to Athens, Georgia, to mix it, but nothing sounded right until, as Postlethwaite reports, “we tried it at home and immediately could tell it was the right one.”

Though Snowglobe readily admit that the Elephant 6 collective (celebrated indie bands Neutral Milk Hotel, Apples in Stereo, Olivia Tremor Control, and assorted offshoots) are musical influences, it seems that the communal, DIY approach of the Athens scene was even more inspiring. “Elephant 6 was what we listened to in high school,” Postlethwaite recalls. (And just writing that last quote makes me feel as if I am calcifying in front of an eternal loop of On Golden Pond.) From a musical standpoint, Snowglobe are fully in the continuum of what Gram Parsons called “Cosmic American Music.” Their efforts seem particularly productive. They already have two new recordings in the works (an acoustic album included).

Regan jokes that they will be 60 years old with gray ponytails playing bad versions of Van Morrison covers at a neighborhood bar and grill. And, if that’s the case, I plan on wheeling my geriatric cyborg self through the urban decay of 2045 to watch them. No doubt I, and perhaps the rest of us, will need to hear this band’s verdant, psychedelic songs about friends, birds, dreams, and better tomorrows at that point more than ever.

Voters were asked to name what young or relatively new local artist or band will emerge in the coming year.

Artist/Band Votes

Snowglobe 6

Richard Johnston 3

Automusik 3

Bloodthirsty Lovers 3

Others receiving votes:

Cory Branan, Bumpercrop, Blair Combest, Crippled Nation, Mito Farley, the F-Holes, the Gabe & Amy Show, the Gamble Brothers Band, the Great Depression, In the Balance, the Internationals, Interrobang, Rob Jungklas, Lucero, Zach Myers, Native Son, the Oscars, Piston Honda, the Reigning Sound, Paul Thorn, Three Pipe Problem, Yamagata, Jed Zimmerman.

Categories
Music Music Features

Sound Off

Adios Gringos

This core group of musicians have been playing together for 14 years — Private War, then ‘Taint Skins, now Adios Gringos. NO ONE sounds like these guys. Highly creative satanic jazz metal. — Chris Walker

American Deathray Music

Nick Diablo’s polymorphic, gender-bending, monster-movie R&B vision is unprecedented in the annals of Memphis music and a must-see live show for every dilettante of the subpopular culture. — Dan Ball

Automusik

Okay, is it music? Well, at the very least, they are not to be missed live. But I think some of their humor is too sophisticated for the average Memphian. I think they’re hilarious. Maybe if they learn to play some instruments they could be Devo for the new millennium. — Lisa Lumb

Automusik would have fit nicely into the N.Y.C. electro-clash movement that just enjoyed its 15 minutes of hip press, but they do not fit into the Memphis underground music scene. Showgoers don’t know what to think of this Kraftwerk/Flying Lizards/audience-baiting amalgamation wrapped up in a purposely (sexually) confused Eurotrash package, and that’s good. What’s the fun if you know what to think? — Andrew Earles

A delightful romp through the skewed imagination of regular Memphis folks by day, boob-cone-wearing droids by night. — Wayne Leeloy

Brad Bailey

He hasn’t played out much yet, so his name is not a familiar one. Very talented and very unappreciated. He’s releasing an album sometime soon on Black Dog Records. — Brad Postlethwaite

Beanpole

In the footsteps of Saliva, Breaking Point, Primer 55, and Dust for Life, this should be the next metal band to break out of Memphis, and they may be the best. They’ve got guitar crunch aplenty and a lead singer whose melodies can soar with the best of them. Together 10 years, the thing that has really distinguished them of late is a relatively new rhythm section (made up of jazzheads, of all people) that gives them the tightest and most grooving foundation around. — Mark Jordan

Robert Belfour

The youngest and most active Fat Possum artist and currently the most sought-after bluesman in Memphis. A living legend with a positive outlook on the future. — Dennis Brooks

Barbara Blue

She’s got spunk. She’s got class. She’s got business sense. And, above all, she’s got that voice. — Deni Carr

Shelby Bryant

Bryant creates music that makes you wish you were his neighbor and you could hear him practice. Last year’s Cloud-Wow Music is still a beautifully eccentric pop record, but he should play shows more often than once a year. — Nicole Ward

Tommy Burroughs

The best acoustic guitar player I have seen in years. Can play anything and fit in with any kind of music. Very underrated. — Brent Harding

Crippled Nation

A young band with incredible potential. I’ll be watching them. — Jeniffer Church

Delta Grass

Tuba, cello, two keyboards, percussion, Australian didgeridoos, and what? No guitars? Guaranteed to impress anyone.

— Benny Carter

Eighty Katie

Amazing Brit-pop — from Bartlett, of all places. Listening to these guys made me dig out all of my old Jam and Kinks LPs. — Lisa Lumb

Epoch of Unlight

Memphis’ only black-metal band. The nicest guys to ever don corpse paint. The name leads to many hilarious misprints, Epoch of Sunlight and Epic of Unliked being my personal favorites. — Chris Walker

David Evans

The preeminent country bluesman in Memphis, Dr. Evans is a scholar, guitarist, vocalist, writer, composer, and ethnomusicologist. His High Water label is a library of noted blues people from the area, and his performances with the Last Chance Jug Band offer blues and folk-music fans a history lesson. — Dennis Brooks

Jeffrey Evans

Monsieur Jeffrey Evans’ I’ve Lived a Rich Life was the most overlooked local release of last year — by everyone, including me.The only excuse I have is that it is such a concise and richly personal history of local music, culture, and politics that it felt as if it had been in my collection for years. There were better-sounding local records last year, but this outdoor performance, recorded at Shangri-La Records, has more wit and heart than any of them.The sound is surprisingly clear and warm. It is a scruffy pastiche of rockabilly covers, Evans originals, and PG-rated anecdotes that will be relevant for years to come. It should be issued to all Memphis schools as a primer on local music.

— David L. Dunlap Jr.

FreeWorld

Still the funkiest freewheeling fusion mix in town. Never a dull gig. — Lisa Lumb

The Gamble Brothers Band

Killer musicians with a groove that anybody can dig. What more could you want? — Benny Carter

Andy Grooms

Great pianist, songwriter, poet, storyteller. Seems very humble too. I get the feeling Leonard Cohen and Tom Waits would appreciate Andy if they heard him. — Brad Postlethwaite

The Hollywood Allstars

More or less a group of musicians who switch up and jam on blues songs at Wild Bill’s every weekend. They are a million times better than any of the blues bands I’ve heard on Beale Street lately. If you’re looking to just shake your ass and let loose, this group of blues virtuosos is your ticket to a great time. — Brad Postlethwaite

Ingram Hill

They may be a little tame for the moshpit crowd, and they’re probably off-the-radar of most Midtown indie-rock fans, but Ingram Hill have quietly become one of the most popular bands on the frat-party/Highland Strip scene. They’re now turning into quite the regional draw on the southeastern college circuit as well, much like Dave Matthews and Hootie & the Blowfish did before them. Look for these guys to land a record deal very soon. — Steve Walker

Rob Jungklas

After a way-too-long hiatus, this haunting poet/songwriter is again stirring, and I am really excited about that. In all honesty, I can say that I am a better person spiritually, physically, and emotionally when I can hear Rob play his music on a regular basis. — Pam McGaha

Wayne Leeloy

The revolving lineup of Leeloy’s Memphis Troubadours [gets my vote]. Moving to Gibson’s Lounge really opened this up, and all the musicians who take part help the scene as a whole. — Todd Dudley

Eric Lewis

A great musician contributing to many different bands. Definitely one of the top guitar players in town. A must-see.

— Christopher Reyes

Loggia

These guys are really talented. Their music is very different from any other Memphis bands I have heard. It’s unfortunate (for Memphis) that they plan to move to New York at the end of the summer. Anyone who appreciates damn good songs should check out their live show while they still have the chance.

— Brad Postlethwaite

Lucero

They might be the breakout band of the year (from Memphis) with the upcoming release of their second album and their relentless touring schedule. One of the best live bands in town, if not the best. — Todd Dudley

The hardest-working and most consistently rocking band in town. Their elbow-tipping live set is like Mexican food, i.e., when it’s good, it’s fantastic; when it’s bad, it’s still pretty good and well worth the risk of stomach upset.

— Dan Ball

Memphix

Reaching into the past but looking into the future.Cold dig it.

— Jay Witherspoon

Blind Mississippi Morris

A Beale Street stalwart, Morris has proven to be the finest harmonica player to emerge from the Memphis area since James Cotton. — Dennis Brooks

Calvin Newborn

The last living member of Memphis’ famous Newborn family jazz dynasty, Calvin has never really gotten the credit he deserves, yet he writes and performs to this day, working with what he calls “omnifarious music” (music of all kinds, sorts, and types). And the story goes on

— Andria Lisle

Robert Nighthawk III

A great singer and keyboard player who can blow that “Little Walter Thang” with the best. — Brent Harding

O’Landa Draper’s Associates

Gospel music is a strong force in Memphis music that is easy to overlook but should not be forgotten. The Associates continue to raise the bar in gospel music and get national recognition.

— Jeniffer Church

Piston Honda

Smart rock without the attitude. They take the band seriously but not themselves; this is a band to move out of the way of. — Pat Mitchell

Project Pat

It makes me warm inside knowing that a song like “Chickenhead” came out of Memphis. — Andrew Earles

The zenith of the Hypnotize Minds sound.Hell, at least Mista Don’t Play: Everythangs Workin had two radio hits.It is tragic that Project Pat, aka Patrick Houston, has just been convicted for a parole violation at the beginning of a promising solo career.

— David L. Dunlap Jr.

Kim Richardson

Memphis’ greatest chance at a female Garth Brooks — Kim is poised to make some waves in Memphis and a few hours to the east as well. — Wayne Leeloy

Reba Russell

A mainstay of contemporary Memphis music, and her current album, City of the Blues, keeps her on the leading edge.

— Jerry Schilling

Eddie Smith

Flat-out the best country twanger in Memphis, an accomplished songwriter destined for greatness. — Dennis Brooks

Jim Spake

As a sideman and session player, Jim Spake turns up in more places — Sunday brunch at The Peabody, downtown with Di Anne Price, weekend gigs with the Bo-Keys, at Willie Mitchell’s Royal Studio — than most musicians dream about. The tenor and baritone saxman has accompanied everyone from Ike Turner and the Thomas family to Alex Chilton and Tav Falco’s Panther Burns. Spake keeps it pretty low-key, though — standing just out of the spotlight, he lets his music speak for itself. — Andria Lisle

Scott Sudbury

His songs are solid pop and he could have made a fortune long ago in towns like Austin or Nashvegas as a songwriter, but he’s ours.

— Pat Mitchell

Keith Sykes

This is not going to be a popular or hip choice, but Keith Sykes’ Don’t Count Us Out [is my record of the year], a beautifully written, expertly played and produced disc. Like a Cal Ripken grounder or a Hal Blaine drum lick, it’s nice to see (or hear) the unflashy, solid masters at work. — Mark Jordan

The Tearjerkers

Jack “Oblivian” Yarber leaves the garage-rock light on, and there is no better mechanic. Any Memphis music collector who doesn’t own a copy of Bad Mood Rising is missing the real point. — Dan Ball

Three Pipe Problem

An extremely humble band heavy on composition and indulgence. The first time I saw this band, I stopped what I was doing and was drawn to the stage. — Pat Mitchell

Vending Machine

Goofy-smart rock-and-roll from wailing wonder Robby Grant, Vending Machine is a subterranean classic: cool and fun in one. With such genius tunes as “Chocolate Guitarz” and “Grunt Once,” it’s damn depressing that he doesn’t dispense more live shows, especially considering the killer band that backs him up.

— Jeremy Spencer

Mose Vinson

A vastly underrated local treasure, Mose Vinson has been a Memphis piano institution for more than half a century. Most of us won’t fully appreciate Mose Vinson until he’s gone. — Andria Lisle

Brad Webb

The most prolific engineer and producer to scrap together a living in Memphis in the last 20 years.

— Daren Dortin

Charlie Wood

While his solo, nightly Beale Street gig goes unnoticed by most, nobody can argue Charlie’s exceptionally high level of musicianship. His playing, songwriting, and vocal abilities have few, if any, rivals.

— Posey Hedges

Jed Zimmerman

He’s got the songs, the voice, and the look. Now if we can just convince him to give up the day job.

— Posey Hedges

Categories
We Recommend We Recommend

MY FRIEND, SPIDEY

Do yourself a favor. Finish reading this column, put the bills and errands aside, grab some family and/or friends, and go see Spider-Man at the nearest megaplex. And let me clarify something here: This is not a movie review. I could no more critique a film about Spider-Man than I could evaluate the strengths and weaknesses (there are no weaknesses) of my 3-year-old daughter. You see, Spidey and I go too far back. And just as I would if, say, an old college roommate were making his big-screen debut, I’m hereby urging you to go spend a couple of hours with the ol’ webhead. If he’s not your friend already well, acquaint yourself.

As a child of the Seventies, I had what amounts to a boyhood trinity of heroes: Roger Staubach (quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys), Paul Stanley (lead singer of KISS), and Spidey. Even Staubach would lose a game every now and then. And it took a couple of years before my parents would allow any KISS records in the house. But Spider-Man? He was always there, month after month after month.

My grandfather bought me my first Spider-Man comic — Amazing Spider-Man #177 — in 1978. I had read plenty of comic books before this epic gift, but I was more of a baseball-card kid at the time. Comics were a nice distraction, but I didn’t have the bug (so to speak) just yet. In that issue, Spidey took on his archenemy, the Green Goblin (whose secret identity turned out to be a huge surprise an imitation Goblin, if you can believe that).

I lost my grandfather in 1979 but kept finding my way to local comic outlets for the next 20 years. Why the love affair with Spider-Man? Let me count the ways.

Were it not for his being bitten by a radioactive spider in a high school lab, Peter Parker might as well be you or me. School problems, girl problems, peer problems. No leaping over a building in a single bound for young Parker. No Batmobile to tool around in. Then along came a spider.

Before there was Spider-Man as we know and love him, he was a circus act. A mercenary. Peter simply wanted to cash in on his newfound powers to the highest bidder. It wasn’t until he ignored a chance to stop a burglar — who, as fate would have it, later murdered his uncle Ben — that Peter realized his mantra: with great power comes great responsibility. Has there ever been a cornier superhero slogan? And, I ask you, has there ever been such a slogan more worthy of our attention?

The meaning of hero was redefined for us on September 11, 2001. Spider-Man — to say nothing of Roger Staubach or Paul Stanley — isn’t in the same league as those firemen and police officers who stormed up a pair of skyscrapers they knew were coming down. Since that horrible day, it’s the men and women fighting to end the horrors of terrorism who have come to embody modern heroism.

But you know what? Spider-Man would have been there to help. As irrational as it may sound now — and, admittedly, it’s a child’s fantasy invading an adult’s mind — I wished for there to be a real Spider-Man as the twin towers and Pentagon burned. I wished for reality to take a backseat temporarily long enough for good to once again stiff-arm evil.

To date, my collection of Amazing Spider-Man comics numbers almost 400. I quit collecting the current issues in 1998 when the powers-that-be at Marvel Comics made the god-awful decision of essentially starting over, with the second volume of Spidey’s story to be told in a more modern context. (Talk about reinventing the wheel.) I’ve been left with the task of going back in time, working my collection downward, the price of an issue going up as the number on the cover gets smaller. (I’m at #53, a treasure from October 1967.)

As I go back with Spidey — and get older every day — I realize all the more how great my hero’s powers really are. The power to escape, not so much in body but in mind. If you ask me, the perfect hero for the silver screen. As this long-awaited motion picture finally arrives, I am disappointed in one regard. Columbia should have cast me as Peter Parker.

There’s always the sequel.

Categories
Sports Sports Feature

Jerry West Meets Memphis

Damn, it really is Jerry West. In The Peabody. In Memphis. What next? Mark McGwire to the Redbirds for a comeback? Gordie Howe to coach the RiverKings?

In his introductory press conference, West talked about visions and dreams and community and role models and family and, of course, basketball. But it was the whole package, the “darns” and “Mr. Heisley” and the sight of West’s son in a Shane Battier Grizzlies jersey that won the crowd and made it clear Memphis has a new hero.

“That’s the one thing that I would tell everyone that I work with,” West said in his modest, talkative way. “Let’s have some darn goals around here that are a little bit more lofty. Because loftier goals make you reach farther.”

West is coming to Memphis as the front-office mastermind who lured Phil Jackson out of retirement to coach the Lakers, saw Kobe Bryant’s potential when he was a junior in high school, and brought Shaq to L.A. But to a generation disillusioned with the current NBA, West will always be the player, Number 44, the guy in short pants and high socks with the flattop haircut and flat jump shot you tried to imitate. In the 1960s, there were 10 million male basketball players in the U.S.A., and every one of them would have given the keys to his car, his Chuck Taylor Converse All-Stars, his Lettermen albums, and a can of Desenex to be Mr. Clutch.

West averaged 27 points a game during his career, and if he ever dunked I never saw it in over 100 televised games. He drove past the big men and layed it off the glass. Or he flicked that jump shot from way out. If you weren’t a Lakers fan, he was the last person you wanted to see with the ball at the end of the game. More than a few times, he won or tied big games with shots from well beyond half court at the buzzer.

He retired in 1974, and the game promptly changed. The next year began the infusion of high-schoolers and foreigners like Darryl Dawkins of Planet Lovetron into the NBA. West was as good in the front office as he was on the court, directing the Lakers to six titles and nine appearances in the finals. He helped put together the Magic Johnson/Kareem Abdul-Jabbar dynasty and much of the current Laker championship team. In 1998, West was named one of the NBA’s 50 greatest players of all time. He was the only one besides the late Pete Maravich who did not attend the ceremony.

The West-to-Memphis announcement was big news across the Mid-South, where the Grizzlies hope to expand their local base into a regional one.

“I think that this, more than the arena or anything else, is real ratification of Memphis as big-time,” said Michael Rubenstein, executive director of the Mississippi Sports Hall of Fame and Museum and a sports broadcaster in Jackson for several years.

For all of West’s accomplishments, it is surprising that as a player he won only one NBA championship — that came in 1972 with Wilt Chamberlain and Gail Goodrich. The Lakers won 33 straight that year and were possibly the best team ever, but the dominant team of West’s era was the Boston Celtics. One key member of the Celtics was former Mississippi State All-American Bailey Howell.

Howell, who lives in Starkville, Mississippi, played against West for 11 years as a member of the Celtics and the Detroit Pistons.

“He was the total package,” said Howell. “Of course, he was a guard and I was a forward, so we didn’t guard each other, although occasionally you might get switched on him. In the big games, playoff games especially, he was at his best. Most great players make the game easier for their teammates, and, of course, he did that.”

On a trivia note, let the record show that Bailey Howell and Jerry West both scored their 10,000th NBA career point on the same night in the same game. West went on to score 15,192 more. If the NBA had put in the three-point shot back then, it would have been more like 20,000. Or, then again, he might still be playing.

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Music Music Features

TOP 10 Profiles

1. The North

Mississippi Allstars

A year ago, the North Mississippi Allstars were facing down the sophomore slump. Their rapturously received debut, “Shake Hands With Shorty”, had made them national names and a self-conscious music scene’s great hope.

The band’s nimble, exploratory take on the hill-country blues tradition brought a regional music home to jam-band kids across the land, but you can only cover R.L. Burnside and Fred McDowell for so long before people begin wondering what else you’ve got in your arsenal.

But the Allstars answered whatever doubts may have existed in the opening moments of their sophomore album, 51 Phantom, when singer-guitarist Luther Dickinson lets loose some trademark slide-guitar runs and then growls out lyrics that prove the band has mastered the verbal tradition of the blues as well as the musical one: “Late in the evening, ’bout this time of night/51 Phantom gets to feelin’ right/Memphis to New Orleans, the 51 I ride/White lightning flashin’ cross the Mississippi sky.” And then he punctuates the line with a little ghostly howl to seal the deal.

Though locals — and this is a band that Memphis cares deeply about — seem split on whether they prefer the slightly new-look Allstars to the world-boogie missionaries that everyone had grown so accustomed to, there’s little doubt that 51 Phantom, with its crisper, more rock-oriented sound and reliance on original material, has confirmed the band’s staying power, even if it’s unclear whether it’s expanded their audience. The record has met with a strong response from national media outlets and the video for “Sugartown” has been airing on MTV2 and HBO’s Zone.

The band’s past year began with a massive performance at the 2001 Beale Street Music Fest, and their incessant touring schedule hasn’t let up much since. But, in addition to the band’s busy touring in support of 51 Phantom, much of the past year has been spent adding some of that world-boogie spirit to other projects. First, Luther and Cody Dickinson lent their talents to Smiling Assassin, a solo album from Widespread Panic keyboardist John Hermann, and subsequently toured with Hermann. Then the whole band joined jazz keyboardist John Medeski (of Medeski, Martin, & Wood) and steel-guitar virtuoso Robert Randolph on the instrumental gospel project, The Word, bringing yet another regional and subcultural style to a mass audience that may have otherwise never discovered it. Most recently, both Luther and Cody can be found on Keep It Coming, a new album from 20 Miles, aka Jon Spencer Blues Explosion guitarist Judah Bauer.

— Chris Herrington

Next local show: Friday, May 3rd, at the New Daisy Theatre.

Voter comments:

What a surprise. Jim Dickinson’s kid can play. Luther has had a big part in bringing the younger crowd back to the blues. A little bit Muddy and a little bit Garcia. Wow! — Brent Harding

Although I prefer it when they channel old, salty bluesmen instead of Duane Allman, these guys are still the saltiest young dogs on the scene. — Lisa Lumb

Well, it ain’t my thing, but they’re top-notch people. They’re also helping out other hometown homies like Lucero. I hope they get rich.

— Chris Walker

2. Richard Johnston

For the crowds of tourists who stroll down Beale Street on Friday and Saturday nights and find themselves captivated by this guy in front of the New Daisy Theatre playing drums with his feet, guitar or diddly bow with his hands, and hollering out blues standards with his mighty lungs, Richard Johnston could be just another street musician — which, on these nights, is what he so proudly is. But how many of them know they’re watching one of the true rising stars in Memphis music?

The past year has been one long coming-out party for Johnston, the former member of the Soul Blues Boys (the house band at the late Junior Kimbrough’s Mississippi juke joint) and struggling Beale Street performer. A year ago, Johnston was fresh off winning the Blues Foundation’s International Blues Challenge — becoming the first artist in the talent search’s 17 years to win the main competition as well as the Albert King Award for the most promising guitarist — and was preparing to showcase his unique one-man-band approach to the blues world at the Handy Awards.

Johnston’s breakout year climaxed in January with the incandescent release party for his lovely self-produced debut, Foot Hill Stomp, a show at which Johnston played ringleader for an all-night, revue-style celebration of the area blues scene that has nurtured him, bringing friends and influences such as Brad Webb and Blind Mississippi Morris, the Burnside Exploration, the Soul Blues Boys, and, most memorably, Othar Turner. Johnston has also drawn hill-country matriarch Jessie Mae Hemphill back into the public eye through her crucial contributions to Foot Hill Stomp and recent joint appearances.

The Handy exposure made Johnston a popular draw on the blues festival circuit — he’ll be touring Norway and Finland in July and August, playing a couple of dates in Norway with fellow Memphian Robert Belfour — but when he’s not on the road, Memphians have the pleasure of seeing him and sometimes his new band, the Foot Hill Stompers, at his standing Wednesday night shows at the Flying Saucer downtown and his frequent weekend performances on Beale.

— Chris Herrington

Next local performance: Sunday, May 5th, at 2:15 p.m. in the NBA Yahoo Blues Tent at the Beale Street Music Fest.

Voter comments:

If there was ever an artist to say that he did it his way, R.J. is the man. Not only is he an uncompromised, raw talent, but his story is amazing. He has suffered for his craft and broken new ground along the way. In the past, he left everything to live in the presence of the living greats like Junior Kimbrough and R.L. Burnside and to learn what it meant to live the blues, not just play them. He knew that he had to get inside the mind of the hill-country men to really understand what they were playing and how to make it work. And he did. The lesson here is almost biblical: “Take up your Lowe Bow and follow me, you will be a fisher of men and song … . ” Look out for the lightning.

— Wayne Leeloy

What Johnston’s doing is not original — combining aspects of Junior Kimbrough, Joe Hill Louis, and Lonnie Pitchford, among others — but few have ever done it as well as Johnston. He’s simply a badass guitarist (or diddly bow-ist), he sings with more passion than just about anyone else in town, and the Johnny Depp look-alike has got charisma to spare.

— Mark Jordan

Since Beale Street reopened in the early ’80s, no one [on the street] has commanded the attention that Johnston [has]. His unique hill-country style is popular with all ages. Johnston’s approach to the record industry is trendsetting, with a Handy Award and Grammy awaiting. — Dennis Brooks

Setting the blues establishment on fire. Not good at all but significant for this reason.

— Eric Friedl

3.(tie) CORY BRANAN

Cory Branan’s The Hell You Say isn’t just the best Memphis record of the past year. It’s the best record about Memphis, although it’s hard to believe he wrote about a bar where “Everyone except the band looks like a rock star/And everyone except for you can go to hell” before he started playing the swank confines of the Gibson Lounge.

With all due apologies to Lucero and the Subteens, who have fruitfully mined similar territory, “Pale Moon On Paper Town” is the greatest song anyone’s gonna write about wasting another night in a Midtown bar (where “You hear the girls/You know just where you are”). On that song, Branan looks up from “a table full of empties” and muses that “it’s never a good sign when the whole state line is outlined in chalk,” while on “One of Theirs,” he similarly captures local bar culture in vivid strokes, catching a glimpse of “local girls with imported beers … sinking in their chairs.” But the clincher is the epic “Green Street Lullaby (Dark Sad Song),” an utterly serious anti-love song to the city that comes with a deadly humorous edge. It begins with a sketch of a local singer playing a regular gig, one who “Starts a song about the highway/But it ain’t going anywhere.” It’s a song about the struggle against entropy in a city of stifling comfort and the sense that, whatever music heritage the city has, you have to head elsewhere to get anything done. It’s a song about trying to make it as a musician in a town where “Mosquitoes hum like window units/But you gotta move if you want a breeze.”

And it’s that song that seems key to Cory Branan’s year. Last spring, Branan was fresh off winning the Premier Newcomer Award at the local music industry’s annual Premier Player Awards and on the verge of releasing his astonishing debut album. On the surface it doesn’t seem like much has happened since. But Branan has been busy. After talk of some Nashville-based labels getting involved, The Hell You Say will finally be released nationally later this year by local label MADJACK. Branan recently spent a month in Los Angeles working with a new publicist in anticipation of the release, returned to Memphis last month to perform and present at the Premier Player Awards (and to record some new tracks for the album), and will soon be headed to New York for a club residency. So it’s taken a while, but it looks like The Hell You Say will finally get a shot at the larger audience it deserves. — Chris Herrington

Next local show: A solo gig on

Thursday, May 2nd, at the Hi-Tone Café and on Sunday, May 5th, at 5 p.m.

on the Gossett Volkswagen Stage at the

Beale Street Music Fest.

Voter comments:

Some might say Cory is so “last year,” but I say there’s more to him, musically, than we’ve seen yet … more than he even knows about. My recommendation? Take it on the road, way out there, and see what happens. — Posey Hedges

Cory’s ability to weave a poignant story or simply laugh at himself lends his songwriting a refreshing quality. And with his recent sabbatical in L.A., one can only think that his repertoire will continue to grow. — Deni Carr

[Branan is here for] the vitality of his songwriting expertise, which I feel is essential to the local music scene, because this ultimately serves to fuel the musical and lyrical educations of all the other artists around him and raises the bar for everything that comes after him.

— Richard Cushing

With his debut album about to be released nationally, Cory Branan could just sit back and enjoy the accolades, but we all know that he ain’t that type of guy. Keep an eye — and both ears — on this one, and you’ll be able to say, “I knew him when … ” — Andria Lisle

3.(tie) THE REIGNING SOUND

The Premier Player Awards are a source of constant frustration to those of us who actually listen to virtually every local release. The fact that the Reigning Sound was not nominated for best band is a shame, and the fact that Greg Cartwright has yet to receive a nod as best songwriter is a borderline crime. Not that he would even care. Perhaps Cartwright’s work with the Compulsive Gamblers was too raw to meet certain standards, and there can be little doubt that while the Oblivians were big enough to merit a spread in Variety, lyrics like “I’m not a sicko, there’s a plate in my head” were punk enough to insulate them (and thereby him) from a typically Bealecentric clique of voters. But by the time Cartwright started recording with the Tip Tops in the mid-’90s, his softer side had begun to show. The punk facade dropped away and what remained was nothing short of astounding. Here is an artist able to merge garage rock, pure country, gospel, folk, blues, and soul and imbue this hybrid with the finest qualities of mid-century pop. Here is also a songwriter confident enough to step out from the camouflage of noise rock to embrace complexity and polish without fear of being labeled a sellout.

Break Up, Break Down, Cartwright’s first disc with the Reigning Sound, is a “hot damn” record filled with beautiful anthems to shattered nerves and castles made of lies, with Alex Green (early Big Ass Truck) contributing on the keys and bassist Jeremy Scott and drummer Greg Roberson laying down luscious R&B-inspired grooves. When Cartwright opens up his gut, converting lyrics like “You never call, though the pain is often grievous/You just lay there paralyzed” into the soaring melodic epiphany of “Since when do you apologize?/It was there all along in your eyes,” it’s easy to see why they call themselves the Reigning Sound. They sure as hell don’t need anybody’s seal of approval.

Word has it that the next disc — Time Bomb High School on In The Red — is even better and due out soon. Not soon enough.

— Chris Davis

Next local show:

Heading out for the West Coast

in May, with the Hives, but they’ll be back at the Hi-Tone Café

on Saturday, June 8th, with

Mr. Airplane Man.

Voter comments:

I like my roots rock to point to the Byrds, the Gun Club, ’60s L.A. folk, and real country. The Reigning Sound do this like a walk to the drugstore. — Andrew Earles

A highlight of my year was hearing the Reigning Sound cover the Guillotines’ “I Don’t Believe” and Tommy Burk and the Counts’ “Stormy Weather” at Robert Gordon’s It Came From Memphis reissue party. It’s great to have a good old-fashioned garage band in town and even better to hear them paying homage to the garage greats before them. — Pam McGaha

Listening to Greg Cartwright and his R&B edge-cutters pumping out blistering original material and breathing new life into standards like “Stormy Weather” makes all too clear what Beale Street is so sorrowfully lacking. — Dan Ball

5. SALIVA

Flamboyant lead singer Josey Scott and his band of hard-rock heroes had the kind of year a Memphis rock band hasn’t seen in decades, if ever. The band’s major-label debut, Every Six Seconds, had the requisite post-industrial darkness and hip-hop-bred interest in beats and rhymes to fit in with the current metal boom, but it also had the glammy, feel-good swagger of the ’80s metal the band came up on. And with the full power of the corporate entertainment complex behind them, the band became massive, selling gold and landing a Grammy nomination for the lead single “Your Disease.”

Along the way, the sound of Saliva has become a ubiquitous fixture on television commercials and Hollywood soundtracks (Resident Evil, Not Another Teen Movie, The Fast and the Furious, WWF Forced Entry, and Spider-Man, for starters). And Saliva have toured nationally with some of hard rock’s other buzz bands, including Nickelback and Sum 41. The band, winner of the Recording Academy’s Premier Player Award last month for the city’s best band, has begun working on material for its follow-up album, tentatively titled Back Into Your System, and should begin recording in Vancouver later this year.

A year ago, Saliva played a coming-home party at the Beale Street Music Fest. This year, they’re back but on the festival’s main stage, playing just before Kid Rock. Should be a party. — Chris Herrington

Next local show:

Friday, May 3rd, at 9:10 p.m. on the AutoZone Stage at the

Beale Street Music Fest.

Voter comments:

Not so good but significant nationally. Memphis is not Midtown. — Eric Friedl

[They belong because] I feel it is absolutely essential for any music market (and especially for Memphis!) to export the best of what it has to offer to the worldwide public through incessant touring, national and international releases, Grammy nominations, and TV and radio exposure. — Richard Cushing

They were nominated for a Grammy and still hang out in the Memphis music scene. Gotta love that. — Deni Carr

6. ALVIN YOUNGBLOOD HART

It’s a bit of a mystery how Alvin Youngblood Hart failed to crack the Top 10 of this poll last year, since he was riding the wave of his wonderful, Jim Dickinson-produced Start With the Soul album. But whatever the reason — more frequent local gigs, the use of Memphis musicians (the Pawtuckets’ Mark Stuart and the Star-Crossed Truckers’ John Argroves) in his backup band, the city coming to its senses — Hart seemed to be embraced by his adopted city more in the past year than he had before.

Part of a brave new school of blues performers (see also Corey Harris), Hart is just as likely to drop into his sets a torrid classic-rock cover (Neil Young, Jimi Hendrix, and the Rolling Stones being particular faves) or a bit of cosmic country (Doug Sahm’s “Lawd, I’m Just a Country Boy In This Great Big Freaky City” always a highlight) as he is to rely on vintage country blues. And Hart demonstrated this streak of stylistic adventurousness at The Orpheum last month when, performing as part of the Premier Player Awards tribute to Sun Records, he delivered a souped-up version of the Johnny Cash classic “Folsom Prison Blues.”

It’s been a while since Start With the Soul, but fans aching for some new music from Hart shouldn’t have to wait long. Hart recently hooked up with Dickinson again to record Down In the Alley, a country blues record set to be released later this summer by the new Memphis International Records, a label co-founded by Memphis-based entertainment consultant David Less.

— Chris Herrington

Next local show:

Nothing scheduled now, but keep eyes peeled.

Voter comments:

From W.C. Handy to Al Green to Jeff Buckley, some of the more interesting chapters in Memphis music history have been written by artists who aren’t native to the Bluff City but who wound up following or finding their muse here anyway. In a town that has often encouraged and inspired its musicians to blend their influences and blur the lines between musical styles, is there a better musical alchemist in Memphis right now than Alvin Youngblood Hart?

— Steve Walker

Hart had a good thing going as a neo-traditional bluesman when he decided to record an album of Hendrix-drenched rock. Then, when he was asked to play a song by a Sun Records artist at this year’s Premier Player Awards, he didn’t pick Howlin’ Wolf but Johnny Cash, turning in a James Gang version of “Folsom Prison Blues.” In a town that segregates itself often without thinking, it’s great to have someone around again who so willfully crosses borders. — Mark Jordan

Just finished a CD on Hart with Jim Dickinson. Alvin played some old dobros and banjos he has around the house. Furry Lewis would have been as amazed at Alvin’s music as we were.

— Posey Hedges

7. THE BLOODTHIRSTY LOVERS

Why would Dave Shouse, whose bands the Grifters and Those Bastard Souls earned a national reputation much larger than record sales begin to suggest, put together yet another group? After all, during the indie heyday, every other music ’zine in the country made it clear — the Grifters are one of the best rock-and-roll bands on the planet. Shouse’s side-project-turned-main-trick, Those Bastard Souls, sporting as much glam and polish as the Grifters had grit and power, likewise burst on the scene to glowing reviews.

“I follow a compulsive muse and she had new tricks up her sleeve,” Shouse says, explaining that his new material didn’t fit with the five tracks already in the can for Those Bastard Souls’ next outing. Also, core Bastard Souls players are scattered from New York to Australia, which makes jamming a logistical nightmare. Also, the loops and sequences crucial to the new sound would, according to Shouse, “deny [fellow Grifters] Tripp [Lampkins] and Stan [Gallimore] the ability to work their own special brand of rhythm-section magic.” So it was time to go back to the drawing board.

The Bloodthirsty Lovers’ sound — pop-rocktronica, bordering on prog — may be far removed from previous efforts, but Shouse’s plaintive lyrics continue to mine pop culture, finding gritty commentary in some unlikely places. When he sang with the Grifters about being kidnapped by spacemen, it was always closer in spirit to Hank Williams’ “You’ll Never Get Out Of This World Alive” than The X-Files. Now when he sings about “Plastic Man” with the Lovers, images of a hero stretched to the limits prevail over Jack Cole’s zany comic book. Add to Shouse’s peculiar genius the classical sensibilities of the Satyrs’ melancholic Jason Paxton and the virtuosity of peripatetic rhythm ace Paul Taylor and you have the Bloodthirsty Lovers in all their glory.

Booking agent Robin Taylor, who handles such groups as Modest Mouse and Beachwood Sparks, scored the Lovers The Village Voice party gig at the most recent South By Southwest music festival in Austin, and they recently did four dates with Dayton’s finest drunks, Guided By Voices. The group’s eponymous release can be found at your finer record stores.

— Chris Davis

Next local show:

A tempting Music Fest

alternative on Friday, May 3rd, at Young Avenue Deli,

with Picked-To-Click

chart-toppers Snowglobe.

Voter comments:

Former Grifter/Bastard Soul Dave Shouse has been listening to a lot of Radiohead and U2 lately and using them to make his own great, distinct music. But when he teams with Shelby Bryant, Jason Paxton, and Paul Taylor in the all-star live version of this project, it is simply transcendent. — Mark Jordan

Just signed with one of the best booking agents in the business. Will be very popular, very fast.

— Chris Walker

The latest project from David Shouse moves him deeper into his prog-/glam-rock musings while simultaneously maintaining his unique, contemporary, and decidedly un-Memphis concerns.

— Dan Ball

8.(tie) THREE 6 MAFIA

The past year has been up and down for this Memphis rap dynasty. First lady Gangsta Boo, soon after the release of what promised to be a very successful sophomore album, changed her name to Lady Boo and disowned the band’s hardcore persona in favor of gospel-inspired music. Then the debut album from gangsta-moll-in-training La Chat failed to drum up much excitement. Finally, the group’s biggest current star, solo rapper Project Pat (Patrick Houston, the brother of Three 6 leader Jordan “Jazzy J” Houston) was convicted in March of being a felon in possession of a firearm.

But, on the positive side of the ledger, the group continued to produce hits, most prominently with Project Pat’s Mista Don’t Play and with the summertime single “2-Way Freak.” The group also branched out into new territory with the straight-to-video feature film Choices, a gritty morality play cum gangster flick that went platinum.

The next year will be a crucial one for the city’s most prominent music enterprise. With a new Three 6 Mafia album on the horizon and possibly a follow-up to Mista Don’t Play (the release of Project Pat’s new album has been delayed several times), we’ll soon find out how relevant the Three 6 crew are on an ever-changing hip-hop landscape. — Chris Herrington

Next local show:

Sunday, May 5th, at 5:40 p.m. on the AutoZone Stage at the

Beale Street Music Fest.

Voter comments:

With Project Pat in jail and Gangsta Boo doing the Lord’s work, one might think Memphis’ primary rap dynasty was on the skids. But La Chat easily filled Boo’s position, and, if the release of last year’s Choices is any indication, Three 6’s work is more compelling and creative than ever. “2-Way Freak” is a masterpiece.

— Andria Lisle

They’re still an incredible force to be reckoned with in Memphis, but you almost have to wonder if they’ve got any new tricks up their sleeves, anything to help them stay relevant in a rap world where most hardcore gangsta rappers are watching their record sales dwindle away. A group at the crossroads. — Steve Walker

8.(tie) THE SUBTEENS

“The [Young Avenue] Deli doesn’t seem to mind,” says the Subteens’ charismatic yet vaguely Frankensteinesque frontman, Mark Akin, of his retina-damaging proclivity for stripping down to nothing but a stoopid smile. “But I imagine if we quit selling beers for them, they’d mind a whole lot more.”

Bassist Jay Hines has said of his bandmate’s famous exhibitionism: “We’re probably the only rhythm section that can play an entire three-song encore with our eyes closed.”

But skin and sin aside, the Subteens continue to earn their ever-growing crowds with a stand-and-deliver ethos that translates into the sweatiest rock-and-roll show the Bluff City has to offer. The band’s combination of shimmering pop and punk allows them to cover the Ramones and Billy Joel in the same set — and with a straight face. In the boredom-drenched world of a Subteens original, girlfriends exist only to provide a reason for young men to go wrong, and it’s hard to tell whether the stumbling alcoholics they essay should be the object of pity or envy. Theirs is the same accidentally existential landscape that Big Star defined in their teenage anthem “In the Street,” a never-ending parking lot filled with equal parts possibility and disappointment. Every big score, like every big heartbreak, is a big excuse to rock, and with Bubba Bonds maniacally banging away at the drums, rock is the word.

Since recording their 9-song CD Burn Your Cardigan in 1999, the Subteens have gone from power trio to powerful quartet by adding Terrence Bishop on guitar. “We actually thought a triangle player would be just the thing,” says Hines of the change in lineup, “but we couldn’t find anyone.”

Triangle or no, the beefed-up group is currently working on their next release, a full-length CD with the dubious working title Cory Branan’s Broken Heart. Since signing with local bookers Snax Memphis and a new management company out of Atlanta, the boys spend most weekends on the road, so catch them when you can.

— Chris Davis

Next local show:

Friday, May 17th, at the Young

Avenue Deli, with like-minded

Arkansans Go Fast.

Voter comments:

Their eye-popping live shows and ear-catching songs have created a buzz for these guys for a long time. And their ballsy approach with covers (AC/DC’s “Whole Lotta Rosie” and Billy Joel’s “You May Be Right,” for example) helps keep the Subteens worry-free when it comes to packing a club. But, with no follow-up to 1999’s Burn Your Cardigan, fans have to wonder about their prolificacy. — Nicole Ward

Hey, the Ramones are gone (R.I.P., Joey), and it’s a dirty job, but somebody has to do it. — Lisa Lumb

These guys embody all that is rock-and-roll, and while it might not always be pretty, it’s always gritty and it’s always real, live, sweaty, heady, raucous, raw, ruthless, raunchy, bare-assed mayhem. Enter at your own risk! — Pam McGaha

10. THE LOST SOUNDS

“This town is filled with reasons to kill/But everybody wants to play the blues,” the Lost Sounds’ Alicja Trout croons near the outset of the band’s most recent, and best, album, the epic Black-Wave, and nothing else so poetically captures the band’s place in relation to Memphis music’s polite society. More so than anyone else on this list, the Lost Sounds are on the outside looking in, but they probably wouldn’t have it any other way.

Yet the pop climate could be turning in the band’s direction. The relative commercial success of bands such as the Strokes, the White Stripes, and (more relevant to the Lost Sounds’ sonic concerns) Clinic and And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead hints at a growing dissent from the guitar-rock status quo. If there’s a rock revolution, this is one band you’d want leading the troops into battle. Led by the guitar/synthesizer/vocal mega-duo of Trout and Jay Reatard, the Lost Sounds may offer the loudest and most blisteringly confrontational live show in town, but they’re also a far more serious and accomplished lot than those taking a passing glance might think.

Black-Wave, easily one of the strongest local records of the past year, is a home-recorded tour de force that deepens considerably with repeated listens, with emotional and melodic undercurrents as forceful as its full-on noize-rock exterior.

The ultimate termite artists, this extremely prolific band just keeps digging deeper into their own music with a torrent of releases planned for a variety of indie labels, including the song “Total Destruction” on the new Fields and Streams compilation from Olympia punk label Kill Rock Stars, an outtakes-and-demos LP on the Italian label Hater Records, the live album Rats’ Brains and Microchips, Radio Waves and Bloody Lips on a new label out of New York, and, later this fall, the official follow-up to Black-Wave on Seattle’s Empty Records. Do your best to keep up, because this bunch won’t be slowing down for you.

— Chris Herrington

Next local show:

Friday, May 24th, at the Hi-Tone Café, with New York’s Oneida.

Voter comments:

The dynamic duo of Jay Reatard and Alicja Trout could kick the White Stripes’ asses any day. These Memphis no-wavers may look — and sound — dead-serious, but they have a darkly entertaining side as well. (Check out the cover of last year’s Black-Wave LP.) Not music for the masses, but they never fail to get a reaction from anyone within hearing range. — Andria Lisle

From synth-driven, scuzz-punk singles to double-record gatefold self-indulgence in less than two years. Who knew that dystopian prog-rock was where Jay Reatard and Alicja Trout were headed all along? — David L. Dunlap Jr.

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News

Lost On the Links

Before we tee off at Saint Andrews, we must digress for a golf story. In its first century of existence, golf was banned by King James II of Scotland in 1457, because he felt it was distracting young men from their archery practice. This ban was held for 45 years — one can imagine the tension: golfing versus defending the realm — until 1502, when James IV, that wayward grandson, gave it up and started playing golf himself. So, if you play golf, you may lay the blame on James IV of Scotland.

With history ringing all around me, I walked to the first tee at Saint Andrews in something of a daze. I came over a slight rise and was awakened by a 30 mph wind right in my face. Now, I thought, I feel like I’m on a golf course.

I am accustomed to a range of problems on the golf course, but standing on that windswept plain of grass and heather, without a single tree, there were no indications which way the first hole went. Off on the horizon, halfway home to Memphis, looking right into the wind, I could see a solitary flag. Certainly that wasn’t my target. But it was the only one I could see. So, with too much pride to ask the starter for directions, I pulled out a driver, swung with the might of the ages, and when my first shot at Saint Andrews was complete, I could still read the label on the ball. Nine additional shots later, I had finished my first hole and remembered that I didn’t really like playing golf.

There were two shots of note that day — of positive note, that is. One was getting out of a bunker which should have come equipped with a ladder or a rescue team. Standing in it and facing the flag, I could see naught but a wall of green 10 feet high. I was sufficiently steamed at being there — for I had been wronged by the wind — so I took out a wedge and my frustrations, and, lo and behold, the ball ricocheted off that wall of green straight into the air and disappeared. I crawled on hands and knees out of the bunker, traversed the peak between myself and the green, and was astonished to see my ball sitting just three feet from the hole. Under more pressure than a non-golfer can know, for it was a par putt, I centered myself and sank it then pumped my fists wildly out there alone on the windswept plain.

The next hole — and my last, for the rental clubs were due — was the 10th, and for once the wind was at my back. If you’ve ever wondered why the first nine holes are called “out” and the last nine “in,” it’s because at Saint Andrews, back in 1400 when they hacked a path through the bushes for the first time, they went away from the starting point for a while then turned and played their way back. And if you’ve ever wondered why they play 18 holes instead of, say, 19, it’s because that’s how many they first built at Saint Andrews. I now made “the turn” and assaulted the 10th hole. Fourteen-hundred, by the way, was also my approximate score at that point.

With help from Ma Nature, I arrived greenside on the par 4 in just two shots. The green was the size of Tom Lee Park. (Some of Saint Andrews’ greens have two different holes on them and can produce putts up to 100 yards long.) So when I putted for the three, striking the ball after a nearly full backswing, I was really thinking of the five I might get later. But the ball headed for the flag like a colt for its mother, like water for a drain, like a Scot for a pub. In spite of all its previous wanderings, it stayed true to course, even as my wonder and enthusiasm built. The damned thing looked like it had finally realized its purpose. I stood transfixed as it closed in, then with a loud, rattling clank, it struck the flagstick and disappeared.

In the history of golf at Saint Andrews, which is to say in the history of golf, no celebration has matched the show I put on that moment. I shouted, danced, leapt, fell, and wallowed. I would be truly embarrassed by it, except that no one saw me, it being a miserable March day when nobody else was out there. I finally collected myself and, so that I could later brag to the fellas back at Galloway, counted the steps between me and the ball-filled hole. Thirty-seven. That’s about an 85-footer, I’ll have you know, and a birdie at that.

I then made a rare good decision. Despite the fact that I could probably have squeezed in one more hole, I made like a Scot and headed for the pub.

Categories
Opinion Viewpoint

Tired Of Labels

If I weren’t a Jew, I might be called an anti-Semite. I have occasionally been critical of Israel. I have occasionally taken the Palestinians’ side. I have always maintained that the occupation of the West Bank is wrong, and while I am, to my marrow, a supporter of Israel, I insist that the Palestinian cause — although sullied by terrorism — is a worthy one.

In Israel itself, these positions would hardly be considered remarkable. People with similar views serve in Parliament. They write columns for the newspapers. And while they are sometimes vehemently criticized — such is the rambunctious nature of Israel’s democratic din — they are not called either anti-Semites or self-hating Jews.

I cannot say the same about America. Here, criticism of Israel, particularly anti-Zionism, is equated with anti-Semitism.

Few people have written more often about Arab anti-Semitism than me. I have come at this subject time and time again, so often that I have feared becoming a bore. Arab anti-Semitism not only exists, it is often either state-sponsored or state-condoned, and it is only getting worse.

But that hardly means that anti-Zionism — hating, opposing, fighting Israel — is the same as anti-Semitism, hating Jews anywhere on account of supposedly inherent characteristics. If I were a Palestinian living in a refugee camp, I might very well hate Israel for my plight — never mind its actual cause — and I even might not like Jews in general.

After all, Israel proclaims itself the Jewish state. It officially celebrates Jewish holidays, including the Sabbath on Saturday. It allows the orthodox rabbinate to control secular matters, such as marriage, and, of course, it offers citizenship to any person who can reasonably claim to be Jewish. This so-called right of return permits such a person to “return” to a place where he or she has never been. Palestinians must find this simply astonishing.

To equate anti-Zionists or critics of Israel in general with anti-Semites is to liken them to the Nazis or the rampaging mobs of the pogroms. It says that their hatred is unreasonable, unfathomable, based on some crackpot racial theory or some misguided religious zealotry. It dismisses all criticism, no matter how legitimate, as rooted in prejudice and therefore without any validity.

When Israel recently jailed and then deported four pro-Palestinian Swedes, two of whom are physicians, under the misguided policy of seeing all Palestinian sympathizers as enemies of the state, that is an action that ought to be condemned — and the Swedes who have done so ought not be considered anti-Semites. A column by Gideon Levy made the point that Israel cannot reject and rebut all criticism by reciting the mantra “The whole world is against us.”

The same holds for American Jews. To turn a deaf ear to the demands of Palestinians, to dehumanize them all as bigots, only exacerbates the hatred on both sides. The Palestinians do have a case. Their methods are sometimes — maybe often — execrable, but that does not change the fact that they are a people without a state. As long as that persists, so too will their struggle.

The only way out of the current mess is for each side to listen to what the other is saying. To protest living conditions on the West Bank is not anti-Semitism. To condemn the increasing encroachment of Jewish settlements is not anti-Semitism. To protest the cuffing that the Israelis sometimes give the international press is not anti-Semitism either.

To suggest, finally, that Ariel Sharon is a rejectionist who provocatively egged on the Palestinians is not anti-Semitism. It is a criticism no more steeped in bigotry than the assertion that Yasir Arafat is a liar who cannot be trusted. That does not make me anti-Arab — just a realist who is sick and tired of lazy labels.

Richard Cohen is a member of the Washington Post Writers Group. His columns frequently appear in the Flyer.

Categories
News News Feature

CITY BEAT

CHAIN SAWS 1, TREES 0

The last undeveloped waterfront in downtown Memphis suddenly looks like a logging camp after the woods have been clear-cut.

The 21.5-acre site on Mud Island between the Auction Street Bridge and the entrance to Mud Island River Park is directly across from The Pyramid. Until last month, it had survived as a forest through 15 years of development on the island. Then, in about a week, developer Kevin Hyneman who has owned the property for about two years, cut down almost all of the trees. Now they are littered across the landscape just in time for the opening of the park and the Memphis In May International Festival.

It isn’t clear what will eventually happen to the property. In addition to Hyneman, Harbor Town developer Henry Turley and the Riverfront Development Corporation have a keen interest in it and there has been talk of some kind of joint venture. There are actually two sets of plans on file at the Memphis and Shelby County Office of Planning and Development.

One has been dormant since June of 2001 when Hyneman indefinitely postponed a scheduled appearance before the Land Use Control Board. That plan, called Grand Island Planned Development, would split the property into three parts including a frontage strip of 25 residential lots, ten acres of “passive recreation” between the road frontage and the Wolf River Harbor, and another parcel for offices, condominiums, and a ten-story hotel which would be twice the height of anything else on the island.

Hyneman’s partners in Grand Island are Johnny Earwood and Davis Engineering Company. Hyneman is primarily a builder of low-cost and mid-priced homes in the suburbs, although he has done one subdivision on Mud Island as well.

“We propose to provide an attractive streetscape in character with, if not superior to, the existing Island Drive streetscape north of the property,” wrote Dan Frazier of Davis Engineering. Hyneman could not be reached for comment.

Grand Island plans drew opposition last year from the Riverfront Development Corporation and the Center City Commission. The Office of Planning and Development said it would need more information before the plans could be considered for approval.

“The creation of a suburban-style development on this property is not appropriate,” wrote RDC President Benny Lendermon in response to Frazier’s letter. “The proposed use is extremely shortsighted.”

The other plan for the property was approved by the Land Use Control Board in 1999. It changed the zoning from highway commercial to multiple-dwelling residential. It was submitted by the previous owner, Echelon Residential, based in Dallas. Echelon developed the apartments next to AutoZone Park between Union and Madison before selling its Mud Island land to Hyneman. The Echelon at Mud Island plans included some 450 residential units.

Further complicating matters, Echelon submitted its plans at about the same time the RDC was being established as a public-private partnership. The RDC has commissioned a master plan for the riverfront, but it remains to be seen how much of it will be implemented. The Mud Island site shapes up as its first key test.

Hyneman began clearing the property two weeks ago. Virtually all of it was stripped bare except for a few large trees still standing at the edge of the Wolf River Harbor.

Lendermon said there were five or six trees along the road frontage that could have stood, but the others probably would have been cut for any large development. The part next to the Wolf River Harbor drops off to well below flood stage and will require at least 20 feet of fill, engineering reports say. A small triangle of land at the north end of the property next to the Auction Street Bridge still has trees on it. It is owned by a group that includes Turley.