Category: Music Features

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All the King’s Heroes

If there’s one thing Preston Lauterbach excels at, it’s creating an almost novelistic sense of place in which his thoroughly researched histories can play out. It’s something many noted about his ambitious surveys of Memphis in the 19th and 20th centuries, Beale Street Dynasty: Sex, Song, and the Struggle for the Soul of Memphis and Bluff City: The Secret Life of Photographer Ernest Withers, which conjure up scenes of a city buzzing on every corner, before zooming in to the subjects at hand.

That also applies to his latest work, Before Elvis: The African American Musicians Who Made the King. True to its title, Lauterbach, who proclaims from the start that “Elvis Presley is the most important musician in American history,” delves into the stories of those geniuses of 20th-century Black culture who inspired Presley and made him what he was, offering a deep appreciation of their music and their lives as he does so. But he also evokes the sea in which they all swam, as waves of disparate cultures crashed on the bluffs of Memphis at the time. 

“The city in the years between 1948, when the Presleys moved there from Tupelo, Mississippi, and 1954, when Elvis recorded his hit debut single,” Lauterbach writes, “was the type of furnace in which great people are forged, fundamentally American in its devastating hostility and uplifting creative energy. Elvis came of age in a revolutionary atmosphere.”

And yet Lauterbach’s first deep dive is, counterintuitively, into the Nashville scene of the ’40s and ’50s. The revolution in radio going on there may have been the Big Bang of rock-and-roll itself, and a hitherto unappreciated element of Presley’s exposure to African-American music in Tupelo, as the 50,000 watt signal of Nashville’s WLAC carried it “from middle Tennessee to the Caribbean and Canada.” When pioneering DJ Gene Nobles broke precedent and began playing African-American jazz, R&B, and blues, he “cracked the dam of conservative white American culture,” and that included Tupelo, a full two years before the Presleys moved to Memphis. 

This, Lauterbach posits, was the most likely way a young Elvis would have heard Arthur Crudup’s “That’s All Right,” prior to making his own version a hit some years later. It had already been a hit for Crudup, who very likely did not play in Tupelo, as Presley later claimed. And from there, Lauterbach begins his fine-grained appreciation of Crudup’s life and career, including the ascent of “That’s All Right” up the charts in the ’40s, fueled in part by its spins on WLAC. 

Zooming out for context, cutting to close-ups of Black artists’ lived experiences, and periodically panning over to how young Presley soaked it all in are what make this book a tour de force of both history and storytelling. A host of African-American innovators are celebrated along the way: Willie Mae “Big Mama” Thornton and her “Hound Dog,” Herman “Little Junior” Parker and his “Mystery Train.” But lesser knowns also receive their due. The influence of guitarist Calvin Newborn’s performance style, and brother Phineas Newborn Jr. along the way, is thoroughly explored, with Newborn’s anecdotes of Presley’s presence on both Beale Street and the family dinner table. And we read the tale of Rev. W. Herbert Brewster, the African-American minister at East Trigg Baptist Church, who not only composed classic gospel songs, but pioneered multiracial services in the Jim Crow era. One direct result of that was Presley’s regular attendance there. But Brewster’s story also reveals how mercenary the music publishing game was, as Mahalia Jackson and her accompanist Theodore Frye claimed at least one of Brewster’s compositions as their own.

Lauterbach does not shy away from the matters of song theft or cultural appropriation that continue to haunt Presley’s legacy. But he notes that Jackson’s usurpation of Brewster’s rights to his own song “was a theft as bold as anything Elvis Presley has been accused of and worse than anything Presley actually did.”

Tellingly, Lauterbach reminds us of the courage it took to blur color lines that seem so hard and fast to many Americans, and for many African Americans this was seen as a positive change. In the final pages, we return to Calvin Newborn’s assessment, who harbored no bitterness over his protégé’s success: “He was a soulful dude.” 

Preston Lauterbach will discuss his new book with Robert Gordon at the Memphis Listening Lab on Friday, April 4th, 6 p.m.

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Wide Appeal for The Narrows

The Narrows (Photo: Michael Donahue)

Not many bands can say audience members created a dance to one of their songs.

The Narrows can, thanks to their song, “The Wheel.”

“I think it’s still the crowd favorite,” says singer/rhythm guitarist Owen Traw, 23. “I think people like how it sounds. People know some of the lyrics.”

And, he says, there’s “a dance during that song.”

“It’s like a bunch of little hand movements that fit whatever the lyrics are saying,” says bass player Bella Frandsen, 22.

One of the lines is “Don’t fall asleep,” says Traw, who wrote the song. “People make a negatory motion with their hand, like wagging their finger. Then when I say, ‘Fall asleep,’ they fold their hands under their heads like they’re sleeping. ‘At the wheel,’ they make a driving motion.”

People teach other people the dance at their shows, Frandsen says. “There’s an ever-growing number of people doing this silly dance.”

There’s also an ever-growing number of people going to shows featuring The Narrows. The Memphis rock band also features Aidan Smith, 25, on vocals and guitar, and Chris Daniels, 20, on drums. The band will open for Juicy J on April 5th in the Bryan Campus Life Center at Rhodes College as part of the school’s Rites of Spring.

“The Wheel” was the band’s first single. “Our best song at that time,” Smith says. “The one that got the crowd going the most.”

“I wrote it when I was really sick,” Traw says. “I still have the voice memos of that moment when I was trying to make sure I didn’t forget it. “

He had a bad cold. “I was all hunkered up and all gross in my room. I had a chord change in my head.”

The lyrics originated from a drive Traw took to Nashville. It was bumper-to-bumper traffic, but people were speeding. “If anybody hit the brakes it would have been really bad. It’s basically just about the feeling that one’s decisions have really big impacts.”

It was Traw’s idea to form a band about a year ago. It became The Narrows. “I started the band basically because I really wanted to express myself artistically, but I didn’t know how,” he says. “I wasn’t a musician or anything.”

That changed after he saw Smith in One Strange Bird. “A band I formed with some friends from Rhodes a few years ago,” Smith says. “We were playing really shitty bars and stuff like that.”

“Aidan really blew me away,” says Traw, who thought, “Dang, he’s so good. I wish I knew how to play music.”

Traw already played some guitar. “I could play ‘cowboy chords,’ as they call them, on the guitar, but I couldn’t play barre chords or hold a pick.”

He was impressed with “the way Aidan played the guitar. It’s a really cool mix of rhythm and lead playing. The kind of stuff Jimmy Page does. Or Jimi Hendrix. Playing guitar and lead at the same time and it’s really melodic. Just really catchy and good, too. Tasteful.”

Traw originally met Smith when they were at Rhodes. “We met very, very briefly. We had one conversation, really, where I told him he looked like Kurt Cobain.”

He got Smith’s phone number, texted him, and asked him if he wanted to be in a band.

“He had a demo that was circulating through the friend group,” Smith says. “So I knew who he was. When he said, ‘Let’s jam,’ I was like, ‘Yeah. For sure.’”

As for Traw’s guitar ability back then, Smith says, “He’s being a little modest. He could play a little bit of guitar.

“I remember him playing four or five songs. I thought all of them were really pretty good.”

The songs “were all well constructed and sort of in a tradition I love from the ’60s and ’70s music. I saw the nuances and jumps from verses to choruses and back. And the way that the melodies would work with the chords when he was playing.

“That night I think we wrote a song together.’”

The song was “Waste,” Smith says “It was an idea that I had that we just fleshed out based on an experience with DMT, the psychedelic. A drug I had taken years before that. I really wanted to write a song about it. And Owen really helped me out with the lyrics.”

Recalling how he felt on the drug, Smith says, “It made me feel like all comfort and warmth was gone from the world. I was looking at the sunshine in my parents’ backyard and it was kind of frightening. It was a frightening and beautiful experience. I was doing a lot of it then. That was when I was 18 or 19.”

Traw eventually became comfortable playing guitar. “I definitely got to the point where I could play guitar a little bit better,” he says. “I almost learned through osmosis because Aidan is so good. The way he would move his right hand to strum and hold the pick. Or what he would do with his fingers on his left hand. I would basically just watch him and try to do that.”

He and Smith began playing together in public. “At that point Aidan and I were writing songs on acoustic guitars and playing open mic nights. We wanted a band, but we didn’t know who would be the drummer, who would play bass.”

They began auditioning drummers. Born in Memphis, Daniels began playing drums at age 5. “I was born in the church, so I always watched church musicians. My uncle [the late Bernard Wilson] played drums as well. He kind of got me into it.”

Daniels was in the jazz band at Ridgeway High School and Middle School. He’s currently in the jazz band at University of Memphis.

As for what makes The Narrows different, Daniels says, “You have your punk rock and stuff and all that jazz, [but] I think our music is different because we talk about real life events. And it’s basically like therapy, like you’re talking to a counselor or something like that.”

Traw was impressed when he learned Daniels played drums in jazz groups. “I played jazz drums but had long since quit. But I know jazz takes a lot of musicality, and it’s really difficult to play. And with Chris, you could tell he had serious chops.”

They then interviewed bass players. Frandsen, a Rhodes student from New York who already was a friend of Traw’s, felt confident when she auditioned for them. “I really just clicked. I got along with everyone and everything worked really well.”

Smith thought Frandsen was “super intuitive” when they were working on their song, “Ice About to Melt.” “I played off the bass line that she had dreamed up,” he says. “That became a main figure in the chorus of the song. I could tell she was really super musical and an overall musician instead of strictly a bassist.”

The band name came from the Tacoma Narrows Bridge, twin suspension bridges spanning Puget Sound’s Tacoma Narrows strait in Washington.

“I also think ‘The Narrows’ is pretty evocative even if you don’t know what the body of water is,” Traw says. “In my head, it made me imagine scrawny figures.”

The group, which has been touring, recently played shows with their friends in Smokies, a band from Jackson, Mississippi. They’re planning a “more serious tour this summer.”

The Narrows also completed its first EP, Sloth & Envy, which the group recorded at Easley McCain Recording and Young Avenue Sound.

Describing the EP’s cover he designed, Eli Schwartz says, “It evokes a feeling of being lost, helpless, and feeling like a stranger to yourself. Wondering who you are and coming up empty handed.” 

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The Glass Key Trio

The Glass Key Trio (Photo: Courtesy Jeremy Bleich)

A lot of bands can be described as “improvised music,” and that’s the beauty of the genre. Straight-ahead jazz has improvised solos built in, of course, yet generally that’s over a framework of complex chord changes. More rock-oriented groups will simply lay down a drone, grind out riffs, or rely on blues changes. I’ve been told the legendary Grifters would often facilitate freestyle moments in their live sets by having sheets of paper marked with chord names, like “C” or “A-flat,” laid out on the stage. They would wail for a while, and when one player wanted to shift gears, he would point to a new chord and the rest would follow suit. To audiences, it seemed like sheer telepathy. 

This Thursday, March 20th, the Lamplighter Lounge will present a case study in two approaches to improvised sonic adventure. The opener will be Turnt, who have enjoyed a Sunday residency at the Lamp for years now, often with a rotating cast of players. They’re not always strictly improvised, but that’s often the starting premise, and they arrive at it from a decidedly rockist orientation. The true “soloist,” as it were, is drummer Ross Johnson, who’s been globally celebrated for his off-the-cuff verbal rants since 1979’s “Baron of Love, Pt. II.”

Turnt (Photo: Courtesy Skyline Records)

That recording, of course, was made in cahoots with firebrand Alex Chilton, but more recently Turnt, too, have shown off Johnson to great effect. You can hear his magic on Bandcamp on such tunes as “Methadone Takeout Card,” “Twelve Hours on a Respirator,” or “Merry STD Baby,” where the verbal pugilist is backed by core Turnt members Scott Taylor (of Grifters fame), Bill Webb, and Hans Faulhaber. Though Taylor was sidelined by a stroke about a year ago, from which he’s now heroically fighting his way back, the band carries on. And while Johnson claims to have sworn off his ranting, we fans will believe it when we see it. 

After their set, some fresh faces will take the stage: The Glass Key Trio from Santa Fe, New Mexico. As Faulhaber quips with characteristic humility, “They can actually play!” 

Indeed, band leader and guitarist Jeremy Bleich studied composition at Cleveland State University, mostly playing bass and classical guitar at the time. And his trio’s debut album, Apocalypse Fatigue, led to two nominations in the 2023 New Mexico Music Awards, including Best Jazz Album and Best Instrumental Song. Yet when I note to Bleich that the Lamplighter Lounge doesn’t often play host to award-winning jazz groups, Bleich lets out a hearty laugh. “Actually, the thing that we’re not used to is playing in jazz rooms, to be honest,” he says.

“It’s interesting. The word jazz means different things to different people,” he goes on. “And I think the way that jazz is marketed or presented in certain venues can sometimes be codified in a way that we would definitely be excluded from. In my view — and I’ve played a lot of straight-ahead jazz in my life, too — I feel that jazz should be a living, breathing thing, and it always brings in different elements of music. A lot of the jazz that I’ve played has been influenced by so much music outside of bebop or straight-ahead jazz. Our music has a lot to do with other traditions, some of which are improvised, like Balkan music or bluegrass or American folk. I don’t really see much of a division between them. And a lot of the leading people that I’m listening to in jazz music are definitely interested in all of those different things, including punk rock.”

Although parts of Apocalypse Fatigue sound a bit like Bill Frisell if Frisell listened to more Wire, you won’t hear much punk per se on The Glass Key Trio’s album — yet it’s clearly in Bleich’s musical DNA. That goes back to his post-collegiate years in New York. “In the ’90s and the 2000s, the Downtown New York scene was kind of centered around the things that John Zorn was involved in, and his Tzadik label. I played with a group called Birth, and we did a lot of playing in New York at that time, with a lot of those guys who were on that label. They were all into, you know, klezmer music or Balkan music or Arabic music. I played the oud a lot, and that kind of came from that scene, which was reaching for something outside of straight-ahead jazz, for sure.”

Nor do the other two members of the trio limit their definitions of “jazz.” Drummer Milton Villarrubia III comes from a respected musical family in New Orleans. “He’s an old friend of mine,” says Bleich. “We’ve been collaborating on so many different styles of music and groups over the years. He ended up moving to Santa Fe the night of Hurricane Katrina, trying to get to the highest ground he could. And he’s an amazing drummer. He’s got this thing that only New Orleans drummers have, which is this deep, easy pocket that’s just so easy to play to. And then he can turn on a dime, and just play completely free.”

You can also file bassist Ben Wright under “free,” though he’s equally at home with more structured music. Many Memphians have enjoyed performances by his renowned father, saxophonist Jack Wright, whose Wrest trio was brought here by Goner Records, in a show at B-Side Bar. While Bleich’s music is clearly composed, he has an open approach to the band’s interpretation of his music, especially with newcomer Wright inheriting his father’s proclivities. “Ben can really go there,” Bleich enthuses. “He was raised in that [free] tradition. So, you know, The Glass Key Trio’s music is kind of taking on a whole new kind of life from the improv element. It’s a little freer. It’s a little more sound-based, and so I’m excited to explore those elements as well.”

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Jombi: Your Local Psychedelic Rock Outfit

Guitarist Sam Wallace (Photos: Amanda Smythia)

Along with headliners Missy Elliott, Anderson .Paak and the Free Nationals, and The Killers on the lineup for this year’s RiverBeat Music Festival will be local Memphis band Jombi. The genre-bending group consists of four members: Auden Brummer, Sam Wallace, Bry Hart, and Caleb Crouch. All native Memphians, they’ve brought their electric live performances to countless venues here, as well as Nashville, New Orleans, North Carolina, and elsewhere. Last week, I sat down with them in the Mike Curb Lodge at Rhodes College, their frequent rehearsal space.

Essentially, Jombi is a group of “lifelong friends,” Hart says. They started at School of Rock in Memphis, a nationwide music education program for young players. Hart and Brummer began at the school in 2013, playing medleys and cover shows with other students. Crouch and Wallace joined the program around 2016. Now, Hart, Brummer, and Crouch all teach at School of Rock.

Guitarist Auden Brummer

But the four always had an appetite for their own project. In 2020, they started rehearsing at Hart’s house, adopting the name “The Jombi Jam Band.” The name stuck, but not without some resistance. Crouch and Hart remember questions like “That’s the name?” and “In two years, that’s what y’all are gonna be?” Not to mention the occasional mix-up with Outer Banks character John B. Now, almost 5 years later, Jombi has released an EP and two studio albums, and toured throughout Memphis and the South. 

Out to Pasture was the band’s sophomore album, a project that wholly demonstrates Jombi’s multi-instrumentalist skills and collaborative songwriting. Wallace wrote the lyrics and sings on the track “Break/Melt,” a haunting and hypnotizing 5/4 tune that highlights the band’s long-established chemistry and rhythmic finesse. Brummer coined the hook for “Nothing Left to Say,” the band’s highest-streamed song on Spotify. Hart recalls why he loves that lyric: “It’s poetic but it’s simple.” Hart writes plenty of lyrics for the band as well. He even “hears Auden’s voice in [his] head” when working on his own projects. The band regards Crouch as “the musically educated” one in the group. Their widespread talents ooze out of their music. It’s no surprise they’re preparing for their biggest festival date yet.

Caleb Crouch on upright bass 

RiverBeat came onto Jombi’s radar after a show at Overton Square a couple of months back. Post-performance, Hart met Brent Logan, the talent buyer for Mempho Presents, who organizes RiverBeat, Mempho Music Festival, Shell Daze Music Festival, and more. Logan liked their set, and the two exchanged contact information. Hart told Logan, “We just wanna throw our name in the hat” for Mempho-sponsored festivals. The band was disappointed when they didn’t see their name on the Shell Daze lineup. They thought, “[It] was our only chance. … We’re not gonna play RiverBeat.” 

Just a couple months later, Logan texted Hart asking if they wanted a spot at the Tom Lee Park festival. Hart got the message in the middle of teaching a lesson, but quickly found Brummer (who was with his own student) to share his excitement. Before committing, though, the group had to make sure: “Can Sam do it?”

Wallace, besides being their lead guitarist and certified “noisemaker,” is a student at Belmont University in Nashville. Before giving Logan the green light, Hart, Brummer, and Crouch had to confirm that he was available for the festival weekend. To no one’s surprise, the answer was a resounding yes. 

Being in the other music city three hours out of Memphis, Wallace says there have been challenges, but nothing that wasn’t worth overcoming. “[I] give up a piece of my college experience to be in Jombi,” he says. He says he’s gone home six weekends in a row before. But, for Wallace, a six-hour round-trip is worth it for his family, friends, and incredible gigs. “I just went home to fucking play with Futurebirds.” Wallace is referencing Jombi’s show at 1884 Lounge last fall, where they opened for the big-time touring band out of Athens, Georgia. Now, he’s going home to play on the same day as Anderson .Paak and the Free Nationals. 

From their roots at School of Rock to album release shows at the Pink Palace Planetarium, Jombi has shown an equal amount of determination and talent since their formation in 2020. RiverBeat is just the beginning, too; Hart says the gig is “totally lighting a fire under our ass.” Jombi’s songwriting won’t be stopping anytime soon, and neither will their touring. They’re preparing to embark on their Spring Fling Tour, with dates in Nashville, Birmingham, and more. Keep an eye out for their next studio release and get your tickets now for RiverBeat on the weekend of May 2nd. 

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Vivaldi’s Remake/Remodel

Elena Urioste (Photo: Chris Gloag)

Sure, we all have our favorite composers, but who’s your favorite re-composer? If the term is not on your radar, that’s understandable: It’s typically only used in reference to the contemporary classical auteur Max Richter, who, back in 2012, turned his postmodern, post-minimalist ears to Vivaldi’s masterpiece, The Four Seasons, and created Recomposed. Structured, like Vivaldi’s celebrated 18th-century string concerti, with three movements for each season, plus additional “electronic soundscapes” on the Deutsche Grammophon album where it premiered, Richter’s reimagining of the canonical work won critical acclaim for its mix of inventiveness and historical relevance. 

Indeed, it quickly became almost as omnipresent as Vivaldi’s original, used to soundtrack television series as disparate as My Brilliant Friend, Bridgerton, and Chef’s Table. But, as it turned out, Richter wasn’t finished with his time-traveling. In 2022, he released a new album, The New Four Seasons – Vivaldi Recomposed, which had a slightly different approach. This Saturday, March 8th, Memphians will be able to hear this latest take on Vivaldi in person, with a live performance by Iris Collective at the Crosstown Theater, led by Elena Urioste, the virtuoso violinist featured in Richter’s most recent recording of Recomposed. 

Urioste, a Philadelphia native, is one of the finest violinists of her generation, having won the Sphinx Competition for young players of minority backgrounds at an early age, then making her debut at Carnegie Hall in 2004. In 2012, she was named a BBC New Generation Artist. And so it was no great surprise when she was recruited to play on Richter’s New Four Seasons album two years ago. But it wasn’t your typical classical recording session.

“The first recording [of Recomposed] that Max released was with Daniel Hope as the violin soloist, and it’s just been so unbelievably successful,” she notes, speaking from her current home in London. “It’s performed all the time around the world in all sorts of different settings. And I think it’s such a powerful piece, and I think it also attracts a lot of different types of listeners. But anyway, the first recording was so successful that for its 10th anniversary, Max wanted to re-record the piece with everyone playing on gut strings and using period bows. So he enlisted me for that project, and we all came together and made this recording in December of 2021, with him playing a vintage synthesizer. I don’t know a whole lot about synthesizers, but he spoke very passionately about this one that he used for the project.”

For Memphis gearheads, the internet reveals that Richter used a vintage Moog keyboard, though the model is not specified. More to the point, using violins that could have been made in Vivaldi’s era took the piece back to an edgier time. “All of us were on gut strings, using Baroque bows. So it was cool to combine looking backwards and implementing historical performance techniques, feeling the purity of sound that gut strings afforded us, but also combined with what Max spoke of as a punk aesthetic. He really enjoyed the grittiness of using this sort of equipment. So I think it all came together in a really cool way, and we’re very proud of the recording.”

Indeed, the new version seems to loom large in the composer’s own view. As he told writer Clemency Burton-Hill, “I see this as a multidimensional project. It’s a new trip through this text using Vivaldi’s own colors, so you have different eras talking to one another.” He further reflected on using the ethnically diverse Chineke! Orchestra to back Urioste. “It’s also recomposing the social structure of our classical music culture to some extent, and focusing on different perspectives, which is really exciting and important to me,” he said. “I don’t see this as a replacement, but it is another way of looking at the material. It’s like shining a light through something from a fresh angle … as if a layer of dust has been blown off.” 

It was a profound experience for Urioste. “Since we made the recording, I’ve performed it in a lot of different scenarios, sometimes with Max. We played it in Berlin and in a pavilion in London for Earth Day, using amplification. And then I’ve also played it really bare bones, just acoustically, even without the synthesizer. So this Iris performance will be the latter. There won’t be synthesizer. We won’t be amplified. It’ll just be the strings, just the music itself. But I think it works so beautifully in all of these different forms.”

The show will also be a homecoming of sorts for Urioste, who’s been associated with what is now the Iris Collective for years, culminating in her appearance as a featured soloist with them on a violin concerto by Korngold. “I did so many concerts with the Iris Orchestra in my early 20s,” she says, “and when I went back to play the Korngold seven years ago, there was a real sense of returning to a very healthy place, and I’m hoping to see some familiar faces there on this visit. I hope I see people who I knew back in the day.” 

Beyond that, she looks forward to bringing the Richter work she knows so well to the land of her birth. “I mean, I am American,” she says, “and it’s always nice to return to home turf. Although, to be honest, the home turf is kind of terrifying for me at the moment.” 

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The Folk Alliance International Conference: From Memphis to Montreal

Marcella Simien, singer from Memphis, Tennessee, and Anne Harris (right), songwriter/fiddle player/vocalist based in Chicago, Illinois, perform at the Folk Alliance’s 37th annual conference. (Photo: Karen Pulfer Focht)

Anyone who believes folk music is a male-dominated profession has never attended the Folk Alliance International Conference, where women dominated the five-day festival that ended Sunday, as they have for years. 

When a singer like Marcella Simien of Memphis pulled out her antique squeeze box and started to sing, there was no question that she was in charge.

The 37th annual conference, which convened in Memphis for several years, was held at Le Centre Sheraton Montreal Hotel in a city still digging out from a blizzard that dumped more than two feet of snow five days earlier. The more than 2,400 music fans from around the world didn’t mind so much. It just meant that they stayed inside and heard intimate concerts held almost 13 hours a day by more than 1,000 performers in more than 100 spaces, as large as a theater or as small as a hotel room. How intimate? Some 2 a.m. shows were performed for only two or three people.

Memphian Savannah Brister performs on the Soul Stage. (Photo: Karen Pulfer Focht)

On a larger stage, Simien performed a show that defied convention and labeling, though she called it “psychedelic swamp soul.” A well-known music and arts figure in Memphis and daughter of two-time Grammy Award-winning zydeco artist Terrance Simien, she sometimes performs with her dad in the Zydeco Experience. 

And she believes the spirit of her great-grandmother influences her life and decisions.

“She came to me in a dream,” she said. “I never met her but was told all the stories of how she married at age 15 and had 15 children. They lived off the land in rural Louisiana. We are a part of a generation of survivors.” 

She said Memphis has been very good to her. 

Her new CD, with the long title of To Bend to the Will of a Dream That’s Being Fulfilled, was just released.

Performing with Simien at Folk Alliance was the enigmatic singer-dancer-actress-violinist Anne Harris, originally from Yellow Springs, Ohio, a product of a Creole background. She spent nine years touring with Otis Taylor. Her exotic performances, which include dance, are captivating. Her new CD release, I Feel It Once Again, comes out on May 9th.

Memphians Savannah Brister and Rachel Maxann also played the conference’s Soul Stage. They were but a few of the hundreds of performers hoping to impress the many club promoters, festival organizers, disc jockeys, agents, and music critics that this event is designed for.

The pace is exhausting. There are practical classes in the morning, teaching artists how to find their own voice, hire lawyers, and track their taxes, as well as interviews with performers and newsmakers.

Attendees count on word of mouth to choose which shows to attend. Walking down a crowded hallway, they hear snippets of songs coming from the hotel rooms turned mini-studios, which draw them inside. Artists and promoters often offer snacks and drinks to lure people in for a song or two.

Hands down one of the superheroes of the week was Crys Matthews, a powerful singer-songwriter from Nashville, whose three songs at a late-night showcase stunned a standing room only crowd into silence — followed by massive applause.

She was on a late-night bill with Dar Williams and The Nields, who also killed. Matthews held her own with those two powerhouse acts, which is no simple feat.

Seek out her quiet protest song, “My Kind of Christianity.” That’s how it’s done. 

And lest people think there were no quality male performers, there were many. Festival veteran Steve Poltz of Nashville performed before a packed house in one of the larger theaters and was a huge hit. He read lyrics scrawled on paper that he wrote the night before about a conversation with Jesus. Many other artists like Dan Navarro, John Muirhead, and David Myles brought up the testosterone level.

The next Folk Alliance International Conference will be in a much warmer city, New Orleans, January 21 to 25, 2026. Many people in Montreal fondly remembered when it was held in Memphis. For information on how to attend, go to folk.org. 

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Bright Eyes

Mike Mogis, Conor Oberst, and Nate Walcott of Bright Eyes (Photo: Nik Freitas)

As any Memphian knows, there are advantages to being a land-locked city far away from the coastal metropoles of money and power. While music industry towns like L.A. or New York seem to be where the action is, being left to one’s own devices in mid-America encourages a certain independence of mind, and hence some especially innovative creatives — from Sam Phillips to Jay Reatard. It turns out the same can be said for Omaha.

That Nebraska burg, like Memphis, felt relatively sleepy back in the ’90s, yet ultimately birthed a scene of its own that has endured for decades. Eventually the standard bearer for “the Omaha sound” was Bright Eyes, still going strong and set to appear at Minglewood Hall on Monday, March 17th. But they were only one of many bands sprouting up in the Omaha scene as the last century ended. 

Bright Eyes multi-instrumentalist and chief recordist Mike Mogis recalls those days well. “Over the course of the last 25 to 30 years, a lot has changed about the Nebraska music scene,” he says today from his ARC studio in Omaha. “But back in the day, like the late ’90s, early 2000s, there was a very strong community of friends that all made different-sounding music. Bands that come to mind are Bright Eyes, our band, or The Faint, which is kind of an electronic band, or a band like Cursive, which is a heavier, emo kind of rock band. But we all played in bands together as well, like side projects. We’re all just friends, and that created a supportive musical community that we all felt inspired by. You know, inspired by each other.”

And the way Mogis describes it, all those bands sprang from a determination to make their own fun, despite living in the hinterlands. “I’m looking out my window, and it’s like 10 degrees and there’s snow everywhere,” he observes. “It’s sometimes a harsh place to live, but because of that, it’s also a good place to make music. When it’s cold like this, it’s what I call ‘record-making weather.’ You stay inside and you record music. Weirdly, Bright Eyes tends to record mostly in the winter. Maybe it’s coincidental, but it’s right after fall, which is kind of my favorite season. Anyway, it’s a good place to make music because, to be honest, there’s not a ton else to do.”

It was in that spirit that Mogis first worked with Bright Eyes’ chief singer/songwriter Conor Oberst. “I remember making the first proper Bright Eyes record, which is [1998’s] Letting Off the Happiness. I lived in Lincoln at the time, going to college, and I would drive to Omaha because Conor was in high school. I set up a quarter-inch Fostex eight-track reel-to-reel machine — you know, all analog — and a little mixing board. And we recorded that record in his mom’s basement. I set up in the laundry room as a control room, and then the room adjacent to that was like a little family den. Me and my brother A.J. Mogis just learned on our own, and he kind of taught me.”

That early effort already featured the fundamentals of the Bright Eyes sound, resting initially on the twin pillars of Oberst’s socially and psychologically astute lyrics and melodies over a strummed guitar, and Mogis’ delight in recorded sound and its infinite mutability. Both born of a D.I.Y. spirit, they come together to stunning effect on opening tune “If Winter Ends,” launching with a sound collage suggesting playgrounds, feedback, and traffic, then yielding to Oberst singing, “I dreamt of a fever/One that would cure me of this cold, winter-set heart/With heat to melt these frozen tears.” Record-making weather, indeed.

With a rotating cast of players, the band went from success to success into the new millennium. “We started our own record label, Saddle Creek, and just did our own thing, putting out our own records and our friends’ records,” says Mogis. “And, you know, it kind of took off for a moment there, in the early 2000s, with all those three bands that I just mentioned. We’re all still kind of kicking it today. And we all live in different places now, but Conor and myself have stuck it out here in Nebraska.”

As the band was taking off, another member of the extended Nebraska musical family, Nate Walcott, with roots in Lincoln, joined the group as a multi-instrumentalist, and 2007’s Cassadaga featured his musicianly contributions and full-on, edgy orchestral arrangements. “The first time we recorded the orchestra in L.A., at Capitol Studios, in their big room,” says Mogis, “I just got chills. I’m getting goosebumps right now, just remembering it.”

Thus the now-classic trio emerged, each bringing his own strength to the mix, as they continued to work primarily in Mogis’ studio. All the while, even after a nine-year hiatus, the group has made a point of giving every album a distinctive sonic stamp. Which holds true for their latest work, Five Dice, All Threes, released last year.

“With this one we wanted a more simplistic, sincere-sounding rock record, not too labored-over. We wanted to get back to being more of a live band again, like we used to be. It kind of had a similar approach to what we took on I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning, except the fact that it’s not a folk record. This one is more akin to The Replacements, like more ruckus-y rock music.” Having said that, there are plenty of the band’s other elements present, from extended cinematic audio quips to Walcott’s arrangements for horns and strings, not to mention cameos from Cat Power and The National’s Matt Berninger. Mogis says audiences for their upcoming tour can expect an unpredictable mix of songs old and new, with a full sonic palette. 

“We have a whole sample bank that Nate plays live, so he’ll trigger them throughout the show. It changes from night to night, depending on the mood,” Mogis says. “And we dig deep into our back catalog.”

Meanwhile, he’ll keep savoring the “record-making weather” that Nebraska offers. “You know, there’s not that many distractions,” Mogis reflects. “And that’s sort of what keeps me here. The fact that Conor and I built this recording studio anchors me here, because it’s a nice place. I enjoy making albums, making music, art, you know, whatever. And it’s a good place for that because it’s affordable, there’s not a whole lot else to do, and there’s a lot to be inspired by, living out here.” 

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The Drip Edges

The Drip Edges (Photo: George Hancock)

Many know Jeremy Scott through his work with the now-defunct Reigning Sound, but there’s a lot more to this rock-and-roll lifer’s music career than that. After leaving that band for the first time (before the original group re-formed and then split again in this decade), he went on to found The Wallendas (featuring guitar pyrotechnics from Jim Duckworth), followed by Toy Trucks, The Subtractions, and a million ad hoc projects like the all-star tribute to Doug Sahm that he organized last month. (Full disclosure, I played with him in some of these groups.) One common thread through all of these has been the presence of the gritty, indie rock energy he often showcases on his weekly radio show on WEVL, Out On the Side, marked by a close attention to vocal harmonies.

That was also true for the first album under his own name, 2022’s Bear Grease, which he pieced together with multi-instrumentalist/engineer Graham Burks Jr. through the magic of overdubs. As the Flyer observed at the time, “though he started with acoustic intentions, he couldn’t help but let his rock instincts take over.” And, as that unfolded, the album took on a hard-rocking edge that required a full band. 

And thus were the Drip Edges born, as Scott added Noel Clark on guitar and Mitchell Manley on bass to create a team that could present the album in a live setting. Now, with the release of their new EP, Kicking the Tires on the Clown Car, the quartet has come into its own. I spoke to Scott last week to see how this release compares to his solo debut.

The new EP

Memphis Flyer: The song “Dirty Sound” on the new EP seems the most like Bear Grease, and it’s the only acoustic-driven song on the record. You’ve said this new release was recorded by the Drip Edges as a band, but is that true for “Dirty Sound”?

Jeremy Scott: That’s 97 percent me, and Graham helped with the percussion tracks.

So that’s the only track done in the manner of Bear Grease? 

Yes, it is. I put all the harmonies on. And Graham’s got a Mellotron, and I was playing around with it. And I’m like, “Well, maybe you can put some of this on?” Because he put Mellotron on “Fred Neil Armstrong” on the first record. And then he was like, “Well, why don’t you just do it?” I’m like, “Are you sure? People could get hurt!” But it wound up sounding not awful. Then there are weird things in there that sound almost like a trombone in spots. That’s just me on the guitar, running it through this pedal called a Slow Engine. Sometimes it can make it sound a little bit like a backwards guitar. It’s a pretty cool device.

You’ve certainly leaned into the hard rock elements of Bear Grease on this new release, but they’re revved up more, played by a seasoned band. I hear a lot of Hüsker Dü’s influence on some of the tracks. 

Yeah. Hüsker Dü was so formative for me. Okay, I heard the Replacements first, and I dug them, but I got really burned out on the Replacements, and now I don’t really feel like I ever need to listen to them. Ever. That’s not their problem, that’s mine. Hüsker Dü, I can listen to whenever. It all holds up. And the one that really bit me in the ass was [1985 album] New Day Rising. That was a great combination of power and melody. That whole run from Metal Circus through Zen Arcade is so amazing. But New Day Rising is probably my personal favorite.

What exactly has stayed with you from those records, as you’ve written your own songs?

Just the songwriting combined with that guitar sound. And I picked up some things here and there from Bob Mould’s guitar style. Like, I was listening to the intro to the first song of ours — “Everything’s Gonna Have to Be Alright” — and thinking it probably sounds a little bit more like Sugar [Mould’s post-Hüsker Dü band]. Even though I didn’t have that Rat [distortion] pedal and the other stuff he used.

The intro to another song, “Nobody Wants to Drive,” almost sounds like Ratt, the band. The crunch and darker chord changes are a little more metal.

That one actually is probably more influenced by Sugar. And that one is funny because that started off when I was still doing the Toy Trucks band. We tried playing that song, but it was more like a really energetic, forceful waltz. It was in 6/8, and the chorus was the same, but the verse was entirely different — different melody, different lyrics. And I came back to it with these guys, thought about a little bit, and I’m like, “What the hell am I doing here?” So I just decided to make it 4/4, to make it more of a straightforward thing.

The band seems to really relish playing an outright rocker.

It’s a testament to how these guys can put a song over, and it’s good playing with these younger guys that have that energy. I mean, nobody’s going to confuse me with a spring chicken at this point. I guess I’m a little bit more of a winter chicken. 

The Drip Edges will play a record release show at the Lamplighter Lounge on Saturday, February 15th, at 3 p.m. Joecephus & The George Jonestown Massacre will open.

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Why Aren’t Big-Time Acts Coming to Memphis?

Photo: Courtesy Archimania

If you live in Memphis, you’ve likely heard phrases like “home of the blues,” “heart of soul music,” and “birthplace of rock-and-roll.” Ask anybody; even Google AI insists (so it must be true). Yet Memphians have also seen their favorite artist skip over FedExForum for a tour stop in Little Rock. Despite the rich musical talent and history, Memphis is not a popular destination for national tours. Last-minute cancellations are not uncommon either, as seen just a few years ago with Drake and Moneybagg Yo. Still, locals pride themselves on a vibrant and historical music scene, which is undeniably true. Stax Records, Royal Studios, the Memphis Drum Shop, Easley McCain Recording, Sun Studio — the list goes on. Online lists of the nation’s distinguished music cities frequently rank Memphis in the top 10. But, over the past couple of decades, Memphis has resembled a black hole in the major touring circuit. If asked why, artists would likely say it’s not personal, just business. 

Simply put, ticket sales here are unpredictable. Memphis has a reputation as a “walk-up” city, meaning tickets are typically bought as a last-ditch effort instead of far in advance. This could be related to Memphis’ relatively low socioeconomic level. This is not to say Memphis has no appetite for live music. Just look around: Music is everywhere. There are roughly 60 locations within Memphis city limits that provide live music and entertainment, and these locations would not be paying musicians without their ability to attract an audience. 

Last December, a partnership between national entertainment agency Live Nation and Crosstown Concourse spawned the construction of a new Memphis venue. Sitting right next to the Concourse, the 1,500-seat venue is expected to host roughly 100 events a year, ranging from comedy to corporate meetings to concerts. Similar types of events can be seen at The Green Room at Crosstown Arts or The Crosstown Theater, albeit with smaller crowds. According to a press release, the new venue is projected to bring more than 150 music industry jobs to Memphis, with base starting salaries of $20/hour, (theoretically) filling a Nashville-sized hole in Memphis’ professional music market. The press release steers clear of this comparison; rather, their plan is to “honor Memphis’ rich musical heritage while filling a key gap in the market, providing a platform for artists eager to perform in the city.” Here, in this almost-mission statement, lies the mysterious “black hole” of live music in Memphis. 

By filling a market gap, Live Nation means providing a more “legitimate” venue for big artists to schedule shows. But what about all the other larger venues in Memphis? There’s Minglewood Hall, Memphis Botanic Garden’s Radian Amphitheater, FedExForum, and even smaller locations like Lafayette’s Music Room that have boasted plenty of national acts. Is this “gap” due to a lack of venues, or is it a lack of artists’ interest? The latter seems more likely. But Live Nation’s massive list of nationwide artists likely bolsters their confidence to “fill the gap.” This is what Sherman Willmott, founder of Shangri-La Projects and local music expert, feels the public should be focusing on.

“I think the lede here … is not the venue; it’s Live Nation booking. They’re filling a big empty hole that started with the death of Bob Kelley. Over that time period of the last 25 to 30 years, there’s been no … full-service promotion in town,” Willmott says. Bob Kelley, booker and promoter of Mid-South Concerts, died in 1998. The booking world since then has become “monopolistic. … There’s very few providers.” Memphis especially is not known for large booking agencies/promoters or music business infrastructure, hence the potential impact of Live Nation booking on the Memphis music scene. Memphians will have access to hundreds more artists in pop, indie, electronic, hip-hop, country, and more. Even if the venue starts out slow, Live Nation will likely be able to keep it afloat long enough to catch on. “There’s no one with deeper pockets,” says Willmott.

The introduction of Live Nation to Memphis could point the city in a new direction regarding industry jobs, but 150 of them is a lot to promise. Willmott says he does not “see them hiring that number of people,” drawing on comparisons between the Orpheum Theatre and The Green Room, each of which has a smaller staff. But if the new venue does hire that many, it’s possible for a larger music business market to open up in Memphis. 

Naturally, there are some fears and questions about a nationwide corporation like Live Nation (recently involved in an antitrust lawsuit) digging their claws into the Memphis music community. But Willmott points out the role of Crosstown Concourse in the new venue’s booking process: “Bookings at Crosstown are … between 70 and 90 percent local artists.” After all, Crosstown was designed to uplift the community arts, and events at The Green Room or Crosstown Theater do just that. Further, the vertical village supports education (Crosstown High School) and healthcare (Church Health). It is hard to imagine Crosstown wavering from this community-focused vision, even when working with a corporate giant like Live Nation.

Sure enough, things are changing around Memphis. RiverBeat Music Festival is back for its second year in a row, boasting an even bigger lineup of global artists as well as a surefire program of lively and talented local artists like Jombi and Lina Beach. Grind City Brewing Company and Barbian Entertainment just announced a new venue, Grind City Amp, boasting a max capacity of 4,500 and a deep backdrop of Downtown Memphis. The outdoor venue is set to open in the spring of 2026. Although Live Nation and Crosstown have not specified their venue’s opening date, there seems to be a new era of shows coming to Memphis. Let’s hope our favorite artists start showing up on the bills. 

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Delta Stardust’s Debut: “Roots Psychedelia” 

Delta Stardust opening for Acid Mother’s Temple. (Photo: Andrew Geraci)

The blues have always hung out at the crossroads of the mundane and the supernatural — as when Robert Johnson exhorted anyone listening to “bury my body down by the highway side, so my old evil spirit can get a Greyhound bus and ride.” But in spite of the blues walking side by side with the devil and buying mojo hands for so long, the genre was never quite associated with shamanic states of consciousness until the ’60s, when tripping hippies folded the blues into both the folk and the heavy rock they favored. Yet when that sonic mash up coalesced into psychedelic rock, the music lost all its grounding in a particular place. It was largely part of the everywhere/nowhere world of pop music, never spawning a site-specific tag analogous to “Delta blues,” but rather proffering a universal message of peace, love, and understanding.

Now, with the advent of a new Memphis/North Mississippi band, Delta Stardust, that may well be changing. As the band’s chief songwriter Michael Graber, aka Spaceman, puts it, “We wanted to go for this transcendence, but we also wanted to be from somewhere. It’s that whole yin-yang, push-pull thing.” 

Album art by Rowan Gratz

Beyond being an abstract statement of the band’s mission, those words also capture the sound they’ve come up with, which can be heard on their debut album, Snakes Made of Light, released on January 24th. At the foundation of most tracks is the jangling, earthy, ramshackle string band sound to which Graber and his new/old bandmates have devoted themselves since at least the mid-’90s heyday of Prof. Elixir’s Southern Troubadours, through the venerable Bluff City Backsliders, and on into more recent projects under the name Graber Gryass. All these have sported, to varying degrees, Graber’s songwriting, which often blends the archaic language of the Carter Family with Graber’s more Whitman-esque, visionary poetry. This holds true for his work for Delta Stardust. But the new band also explores novel audio flavors. 

“We gave ourselves permission to bring in all kinds of different textures,” says Graber of the new sonic stew. “You know, the synthesizers, the mellotrons. We recorded at the home studio of John Kilgore, who was the co-producer and engineer. He’s the engineer at Zebra Ranch studio [established near Coldwater, Mississippi, by the late Jim Dickinson 30 years ago]. But John also makes his own guitar pedals and has about 400. And we had tons of Moogs and different compressors. He’s like a Brian Eno in Senatobia. There, in his home studio, John said, ‘If you can dream it, I can find the sound equivalent.’ So we were able to add that alchemical — we call ‘stardust’ — texture that way.”

Thus the yin-yang qualities were baked into the band’s sound simply by virtue of where they cut the music. Even as they fired up old Moog synthesizers, they never forgot that they were in Senatobia, Mississippi. “That’s why we call the genre ‘roots psychedelia,’” Graber explains. “What would happen if, just to take any example, if The Chemical Brothers or The Flaming Lips were actually from the Mississippi Delta? And they had all that burden of influence, but they still wanted to hit escape velocity, too, so to speak, right? If they didn’t want to just rewrite Beatles chord structures, but wanted to talk to their ancestors, in a sense, yet also reach for new heights?”

It should be noted that this cornucopia of sounds is deployed with some restraint, compared to your typical synthesizer band, because the string band is always holding down the fort. And some of the sounds are nonelectronic, yet still unfamiliar in the jug band context. Like the chortling “Hoooo!” that opens “Owl in My Backyard,” a bit of field recording that adds a visceral dimension to a song about a bird that “kisses creation on the forehead each night.” A few tracks later, “Two Questions” opens with frogs and crickets before the swooping, lush chords of Eric Lewis’ pedal steel sweep you away. 

Even that opening pastoral evolves before reaching “escape velocity,” as Graber notes. “Then you can hear The Band influences on the chorus, with the accordion and dobro, and then it gets into a weird sound somewhere between Pere Ubu and Black Sabbath, as kind of an inner dialogue, right? But then weaving it all together. Just trying to hit that range of emotions was a joy, and the band was willing to do it as well. You know, we cut most of the stuff live, and then we did some overdubs.”

Recording the basic tracks live was made possible in part by the caliber of musicianship that the core membership of Delta Stardust represents, including Andy Ratliff (a “key collaborator” who goes back to the Prof. Elixir days), Carlos Gonzales, Jesse Dakota Williams, and Scott Carter, as well as many virtuosic cameos by Grayson Smith, Mark Jordan, Victor Sawyer, Jeremy Shrader, Tom Link, Robert Allen Parker, Julia Graber, Eric Lewis, and Kitty Dearing. 

The most “topical” track is arguably “Memphis Tattoo,” which brings some uniquely urban concerns into the album’s lyrical universe. “I think anyone in Memphis can relate to the story behind that song,” says Graber. “I was running on the Greenline and I got shot at. The bullet just buzzed right past me into the bushes, and my dog took off. There was smoke everywhere. I called 911, and I posted on social media about it. And then everyone started telling me about how they have these gunshot wounds. You know, people have them as almost a badge of joy. And people start piling on to that post and even posting pictures and other things about their gunshot wounds that have healed. So then I started thinking: What is a Memphis tattoo, but a healed gunshot wound?”

And therein lies yet another opposition held in tension, where the folk harmonies and strums of the music, and psychedelia’s promise of transcendence, undergird an all-too-real, yet somehow hopeful take on the gritty world of today. “The bittersweetness,” says Graber, “is that only the survivors can sing it. But it’s just life here, you know?” 

Delta Stardust will celebrate the release of their debut album at the New Memphis Psychedelic Festival, Friday, February 7th, at B-Side Bar, 7 p.m. Other bands at the festival will include Twin Face Kline, Arc of Quasar, and The Narrows.