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Sound Advice

It could be a pretty special night at Newby’s on Thursday, March 1st, when roots reggae legends Culture hit town. Founded by lead singer and chief songwriter Joseph Hill in Kingston during the mid-Seventies, Culture rivals the Wailers and Toots & the Maytals among the most important of all reggae groups. The band’s colossal 1977 debut album, Two Sevens Clash, is roundly considered one of the greatest reggae records ever made — a feverish, rhythmically galvanizing, Rastafarian exploration of mid-Seventies Jamaica. At the time, the album, especially the apocalyptic title song, made such a huge impact that on July 7, 1977 — the day the sevens clashed — Kingston reportedly ground to a halt as people awaited judgment.

My first-hand experience with the band starts and ends with Two Sevens Clash, and if you’re wondering how well the band can conjure the excitement of 1977 today, then your guess is as good as mine. But it sure seems like a good idea to show up and find out.

Another show Thursday night worth getting excited about: If you read our music feature last week on the Memphis Troubadours compilation, then you might remember some favorable ink expended on local singer-songwriters Cory Branan and the Pawtuckets’ Andy Grooms, who were the heroes of that record. Well, now it turns out that the MADJACK Records labelmates are joining forces at the Hi-Tone Café on Thursday for what will no doubt be some first-rate song swapping. — Chris Herrington

When you go see Southern Culture on the Skids at the New Daisy on Friday, March 2nd (and you’d be a fool not to), chances are good you’ll walk away wondering, “Who was that great opening band, and why haven’t I heard of them before?” Well, that band is the Forty-Fives and I’ve slathered nine kinds of praise on their Hammond-driven sound the last two times they came to town. Nobody paid any attention though, and turnout bit. Now (finally) they are touring with a band guaranteed to draw a crowd. They deserve it too. There is not a finer garage band on the planet. Go early. Don’t miss a note.

All good things must end they say, and sadly enough Oxford’s mighty noise machine the Neckbones have skipped on down the primrose path. That’s not news really; they busted up a while back but I’m still not over it. In fact, I haven’t been this broken up about a band’s demise since the Oblivians called it quits. From the Oblivians’ ashes, however, two fantastic bands emerged: the Tearjerkers and (I really can’t believe how good they are) the Reigning Sound. Hopefully the late great Neckbones will likewise double down. Former Neckbones front man Tyler Keith, who gave us nasty-good ’70s-style punk in the form of songs like “Art School Dropout” and “Get My Kicks” as well as the gruff country of “Red Wagon,” is bringing his new band, the Preacher’s Kids, to Shangri-La Records on Friday, March 2nd, at 5:30 p.m. in support of their debut album Romeo Hood. Considering that the Preacher’s Kids is made up of members of Mississippi hellions/Black Dog record execs Blue Mountain, the chances are good that this will be a great rock-and-roll show. Not so coincidentally, Blue Mountain will be doing their thing later that night at the Hi-Tone. — Chris Davis

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Short Cuts

Roots

Blue Mountain (Blue Mountain Music)

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The Oxford, Mississippi, band Blue Mountain have endured some tumultuous times during the past few years. Expanding from a three-piece to a quartet, the band released their third album, Tales of a Traveler, in 1999. While it ambitiously expanded their sound, it failed to garner any critical or commercial attention.

Shortly thereafter, the band left its long-time label, Roadrunner, which specialized in heavy-metal acts and didn’t seem to know how to effectively market a country-rock band. Subsequently, singer Cary Hudson and bassist Laurie Stirratt’s marriage ended in divorce. Because their romance had spawned several songs, many fans thought the band would likewise split.

But, as their self-released fourth album testifies, Blue Mountain — again a trio with Hudson, Stirratt, and drummer Frank Coutch — are made of tougher stuff than that. A thoroughly researched, sensitively played collection of traditional Southern and Appalachian songs, Roots captures the jangly rowdiness and rambunctious spirit of the band’s most memorable work as it relates stories of boozers, losers, outlaws, and railroad hobos.

“Banks of the Pontchartrain” tells of a railroad stray who finds love in the black hair and warm home of a Creole girl. It is a gentle ode to a lost opportunity, and Hudson’s voice shines with a warm grace, subtly drawing out the tale’s bittersweet emotion. The raucous send-up of the well-known “Rye Whiskey” sways like a drunk, and “Spring of ’65” sounds ancient and otherworldly, Hudson’s plaintive vocals and precise guitar evoking 1865 as if it were 1965.

And “Rain and Snow,” the album’s most haunting track, resonates with an appropriate storminess. Hudson invests the tale of a man who murders his wife with a sense of deep regret and profound loss. Lending the song an atmosphere that is no less than gothic, he howls and moans like a truly tortured soul, while his elemental guitar work lurks threateningly.

The album’s closer, “Little Stream of Whiskey,” finds Coutch assuming vocal duties as he tells of a dying hobo’s last wishes. His rusty-hinge voice fits the song perfectly, lending its unique vision of a whiskey-soaked afterlife a rough, drunken swagger.

Ultimately, Roots serves as a reassertion of the band’s identity, a reconnection with its influences and with the dark corners of Southern music. Despite the band’s several recent splits — with its fourth member, with Roadrunner, and between Hudson and Stirratt — Blue Mountain haven’t sounded so together in a long time. — Stephen Deusner

Grade: B+

Blue Mountain will be at the Hi-Tone Café on Friday, March 2nd.

Stephen Malkmus

Stephen Malkmus (Matador)

When Pavement first emerged from the indie scene in the early Nineties with a sound both rawer and richer than any of their cohorts, mystery was part of the allure. Band photos were scarce and the group’s core members — high school buddies Steve Malkmus and Scott Kannberg — were known solely by the monikers SM and Spiral Stairs. The mystery matched the music: cryptic, dissonant, yet stunningly melodic noizetoons that made the post-punk milieu of Suburban Anywhere seem strange and romantic for the first and last time. Back then, no one saw a conventional rock story in the band’s future — “maturation,” break-up, solo moves.

But here we are. With Pavement no more, generational icon Malkmus has released his first solo record and it’s a doozy. Stephen Malkmus doesn’t compare with the three essential Pavement albums — Slanted and Enchanted; Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain; and Brighten the Corners — but it’s a more focused, more engaging affair than fine second-tier-band works like Wowee Zowee and Terror Twilight. Backed by a Portland indie duo Malkmus has dubbed the Jicks, this solo move is close enough to the mid-tempo, sugary crunch of late-era Pavement to confirm that Malkmus was the musical as well as verbal soul of his old band, though the spark-filled guitar interplay between Malkmus and Kannberg is missed.

Malkmus’ hyperliterate songwriting here is more direct and narrative-focused than before, displaying a more distanced, literary wit than he did in Pavement: songs about Ancient Greece, autobiographies of Yul Brynner and Captain Hook. But the best moments are still the most personal. “Jennifer and the Ess-Dog,” a sardonic yet compassionate take on young love amid the upper middle-class — “Jennifer takes a man/in a Sixties cover band/He’s the Ess-Dog/Sean, if you wish/She’s 18/He’s 31/She’s a rich girl/He’s the son/of a Coca-Cola middleman” — returns Malkmus to his native turf with truly stunning results. It’s the most straightforward song he’s ever written, and one of the best. Almost as great is the soaring “Church on White,” the most intimate and emotional song on the album, which has Malkmus taking stock of his own shape-shifting legacy with the chorus, “All you really wanted was everything/Plus everything/And in truth I only poured you/Half a lie.”

How many other artists have stepped immediately out of a great band and released a solo album this good? John Lennon definitely, Paul Westerberg maybe. It’s a short list. — Chris Herrington

Grade: A-

Liquored Up and Lacquered Down

Southern Culture on the Skids (TVT)

I remember the intense feeling of joy that rushed through me a couple of years back when I saw that big marquee over East Parkway. It read “Southern Culture on the Skids at the Mid-South Fair.” It was perfect. It was beauty. It was at once an announcement of a party pending and a statement of undeniable fact. It also contained the exact blend of verity and irony that puts SCOTS songs a dozen diesel lengths ahead of all the other guitar-shredding trailer-park poseurs who cropped up in the mid-’90s. Now, after two years without a record deal, SCOTS is finally back with Liquored Up and Lacquered Down, a mighty fine 13-song release that, in spite of its technical superiority, lacks the rocket-fueled punch of the group’s previous efforts.

“I Learned to Dance in Mississippi” is far and away the best song on the album. With its fat Stax groove and approving nod to the funky bluff city we all live in, this song about a wild night at Junior Kimbrough’s juke joint should certainly appeal to the Memphis hipsterati. Likewise, when Mary Huff, whose husky voice sounds better than ever, croons the soulful garage-girl anthem “Hittin’ on Nothin’,” it sounds like a Hellcats reunion.

Memphis isn’t the only Southern music town whose sound gets sampled on this disc. The groovy retro licks on “Pass the Hatchet” and Rick Miller’s spoken “Let me chop it/Let me chop it/TIMBER!” will remind folks that SCOTS owes a great debt to Athens’ own B-52s. And while we’re talking Georgia, it should be noted that both “The Haw River Stomp” and “King of the Mountain” sound too much like the Georgia Satellites to be taken very seriously. Even worse, the Mexicali-pop of the album’s title track creeps into territory hitherto solely owned and operated by the parrot-king himself, Jimmy Buffet. Sadly, the thin ode to booze, big hair, and beauty queens isn’t exactly a vast improvement on “Cheeseburger in Paradise.”

Southern Culture on the Skids have always worn their roots on their sleeve, but Liquored Up and Lacquered Down almost seems like some kind of tribute album. It’s solid front to back but desperately in need of some hellfire to make it cook. — Chris Davis

Grade: B

Southern Culture on the Skids will be at the New Daisy Theatre on Friday, March 2nd, with the Forty-Fives.

You can e-mail Chris Herrington at herrington@memphisflyer.com.

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Music Music Features

Bringing Back the Bomp

Everybody see Bono at the Grammys? I loved how, receiving what I think was the third award of the night for the typically grandiose if still lovely “Beautiful Day,” he expressed “humility” then immediately proclaimed his group “The World’s Greatest Rock-and-Roll Band.” There are worse choices these days, I guess. But if a lot of Radiohead fans were mulling over that claim carefully, I’m willing to bet that plenty of people — more than you might think — were also yelling back at the television: “Sleater-Kinney!” Though obscure to casual music fans, that post-riot-grrl group has been critics’ choice for years now. But they better watch out, because a blast from their own past — Kathleen Hanna, formerly the screech-and-snarl behind ’90s scene-starters Bikini Kill — is giving them a push for the throne.

Hanna’s new band, the riot-grrls-catch-disco-fever Le Tigre, arrived in late 1999 with an uneven but often thrilling eponymous debut that gradually found an audience and landed on Spin‘s list of 2000’s 10 best albums. With its ruminations on indie-film icon John Cassavetes and shout-outs to academic/feminist heroines that less well-educated listeners have likely never heard of, Le Tigre carried an art-school aftertaste that, for some, may have clashed with the political populism inherent in the music’s punked-out pleasure principle.

But with the new From the Desk of Mr. Lady (the band’s record label), they’ve delivered a more direct, more forceful statement, one that finds the band less preaching to the choir than taking a bullhorn into the crowd. At seven songs in 17 minutes, it’s the most fully alive collection of music to hit the racks so far this year.

The first words from Kathleen Hanna’s mouth on Le Tigre were, “Who took the BOMP?!” The line was a reference to an early-Sixties hit, now oldies radio staple, from Brill Building songwriter Barry Mann, “Who Put the Bomp (In the Bomp, Bomp, Bomp).” Mann’s song is a loving tribute to the simple sonic joy of early doo-wop and rock-and-roll. “Bomp,” in Mann’s song, refers not only to the common nonsense syllables deployed in early rock and soul, but to that music’s ineffable magic; “bomp” is an essence so otherworldly that it’s assumed that some outside force had to put it there.

Hanna evokes the line at a time when hip hop and R&B are absolutely bompalicious but when the world of white guitar rock, both the mainstream and underground, is noticeably lacking in bomp. But Hanna doesn’t just bemoan the lack of spirit in modern rock, she puts the bomp back. With an inspired amalgam of pogo-punk, new-wavey disco, and hip-hop-bred beat racket, Hanna and crew have taken to heart the essential message for any would-be rock-and-roll revolutionaries: Fun Matters.

Le Tigre’s music is a rebuke to mainstream rock culture — reactionary, macho, money-mad, solipsistic. But it’s also a seemingly conscious rebuke to the boycentric side of the rock underground — obscurantist, pleasureless, apolitical, solipsistic. Who took the BOMP?!

If Radiohead mope-maven Thom Yorke is the new frontman of a suffocating, art-rock-loving alternative culture, then Le Tigre offers a hearty, rude “I dissent.” On the new record’s “Mediocrity Rules,” the dullard date being skewered could be the male half of Le Tigre’s native indie-rock world: “I can see it in your eyes that nothing scares you like a real idea.” If so much that passes for independent rock these days is a withdrawal into the subcultural closet, then Le Tigre feels triumphant for how broadly their homemade agitpop engages the world. This is music made on the fringes but aimed squarely at the center. In the words of like-minded Sleater-Kinney, this band has come to join the conversation and is here to raise the stakes.

But if the beatwise bump ‘n’ grind of Le Tigre’s music is enough to get them in the door, the messages and emotions it carries make it a Trojan horse. The band sports female vocals alternately flat, bored, and exasperated or shrieking, taunting, and declamatory — an Everygirl voice that is everything assured, professional singing is not supposed to be and is all the more thrilling for it. The band’s lyrics are expressions of basic political outrage and common-language calls to arms, fed-up meditations on feminist backlash and lowered cultural expectations.

From the Desk of Mr. Lady starts off in a funk — “It feels so ’80s/Or early ’90s/To be political/Where are my friends?” — but then blasts through it — “Get off the Internet!/I’ll meet you in the street!” The record’s centerpiece is the Amadou Diallo-inspired “Bang! Bang!,” the most galvanizing “protest” song in recent memory. Instead of artists with issues, the band sounds like outraged citizens (which, as non-rock-star New Yorkers, is exactly what they are) turning the town hall meeting into a radical house party, screaming the truth in the plainest, crudest terms they can come up with: “Murder is murder/Why’re they confused?” and “Wrong fucking time/wrong fucking place/There is no fucking way this is not about race.”

If the rousing harangues of Rage Against the Machine sound like pamphlet polemics, Le Tigre’s politics are more conversational and lived-in — like a pissed-off neighbor grabbing you by the collar on the street and throwing their anger in your face — and anger almost seems too tame. Last year the band paused during an ode to public transportation to offer a deliciously succinct dismissal of their martial-law mayor — “Oh, fuck Giuliani/He’s such a fucking jerk/Shut down all the strip bars/Workfare does not work.” Here they ask for his head.

From the Desk of Mr. Lady is an art-punk answer to the imposing challenge that has been laid down by hip-hop heroes Outkast: It’s political party music that breaks down musical barriers, speaks truth to power, and never forgets to dance this mess around. But Le Tigre’s triumph also hints at further riches below, and one new band that’s risen to the challenge is Sleater-Kinney labelmates the Gossip.

The Gossip aren’t at all engaged with the outside world — the lyrical content of the band’s recent full-length debut, That’s Not What I Heard, never gets beyond first-person accounts of tumultuous young love. But it takes the same musical lesson to heart: Cramming 14 songs into 24 unrelenting minutes, this introductory blast from the Arkansas-by-way-of-Olympia punk band is a wide-open wonder, nothing but bomp. Crashing backbeats shadow-box punk-blues guitar that should make the folks at Fat Possum wet themselves, while lead singer “Beth” wails over the top of the clamor like the bastard child of Janis Joplin and um Kathleen Hanna. (Blues Foundation Alert: Please consider That’s Not What I Heard when putting together the “Best Debut” category at next year’s Handy Awards.)

Maybe it’s their Southernness, but with their blues-drenched guitar, gospelized vocals, and comfortable expressions of sexuality, the Gossip sound more open to “black music” without being calculating about it than any other contemporary punk band that never varies from the guitar-bass-drums format.

“Swing Low” is a lesbian-punk booty call with Beth establishing herself as the most sexualized punk singer on the planet (“Better make it good/Better make it now/Well, baby, shake it honey/Nobody has to know”), while her bandmates back that azz up approvingly (“Make it oh-oh good/Make-it-make-it-make-it now”).

Can an all-girl art-collective-turned-pop-band become the new Rage Against the Machine or Public Enemy? Doubtful. Can three scruffy kids on a tiny record label defiantly called Kill Rock Stars sweep bar-band blooze into the dustbin of history? No way. But if you find yourself scanning rock radio and wondering what happened to the bomp, don’t say I didn’t give you a heads up.

You can e-mail Chris Herrington at herrington@memphisflyer.com.

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Music Music Features

PREMIER PLAYER NOMINATIONS

The local chapter of the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences announced nominations last week for the 16th Annual Premier Player Awards. Awards are voted on by NARAS members and will be presented on April 5th at The Pyramid.

This year’s Premier Player Awards will salute New Orleans and will present the organization’s Governor’s Award to Crescent City legends The Meters. The North Mississippi Allstars and the University of Mississippi Gospel Choir are among those scheduled to join the Meters as performers. A complete list of nominees follows:

Band: Big Ass Truck, FreeWorld, Lucero, North Mississippi Allstars, Kevin Paige Band, Preston Shannon Band.

Female Vocalist: Joyce Cobb, Jackie Johnson, Susan Marshall Powell, Reba Russell, Ruby Wilson.

Male Vocalist: Jimmy Davis, James Govan, Gary Johns, Kevin Paige, Preston

Producer: Paul Ebersold, Jim Gaines, Jeff Powell, Norbert Putnam, Ross Rice.

Engineer: William Brown, Posey Hedges, Dawn Hopkins, Kevin Houston, Jeff Powell.

Award for Outstanding Achievement: Paul Ebersold, Jim Gaines, North Mississippi Allstars, Sounds Unreel Studio, Three 6 Mafia.

Drums/Percussion: Jim Britt, Cody Dickinson, Harry Peel, Steve Potts, David Skypeck.

Bass: Jackie Clark, Tim Goodwin, Sam Shoupe, Dave Smith, John Williams.

Guitar: Tommy Burroughs, Luther Dickinson, Jack Holder, Preston Shannon, Harold Smith, Brian Overstreet.

Keyboards: Al Gamble, Ross Rice, Rick Steff, Tony Thomas, Charlie Wood.

Brass: Tom Clary, Steve Dolan, Mark Franklin, David Spencer, Scott Thompson.

Woodwinds: Art Edmaiston, Tom Link, Lannie McMillan, Jim Spake, Kirk Smothers.

Strings: Roy Brewer, David Cho, Richard Ford, Susanna Perry Gilmore, Eric Lewis.

Harmonica: Billy Gibson, Lyn Jones, Blind Mississippi Morris, Mark Sallings, Robert “Nighthawk” Tooms.

Choir: Kevin Davidson and the Voices, O’Landa Draper’s Associates, Orange Mound Choir, Billy Rivers & Angelic Voices of Faith, Tennessee Mass Choir, University of Mississippi Gospel Choir.

Songwriter: Nancy Apple, Cory Branan, Jimmy Davis, John Kilzer, Kevin Paige, Ross Rice.

Live DJ/Turntable Artist: Michael “Boogaloo” Boyer, DJ Aramis, DJ Slice, Devin Steele.

Rapper: Al Kapone, Gangsta Boo, Lois Lane, Playa Fly, Project Pat, Three 6 Mafia.

Premier Newcomer Award: Cory Branan, Dust for Life, Katrice, Richard Johnston, Kirk Smithart.

Premier Music Teacher Award: Jonah Ellis, Tom Link, Ricky Richardson, David Spencer, Jackie Thomas.

Award for Community Service: George Klein, Memphis & Shelby County Music Commission’s Musicians Health Care Plan, Deanie Parker, Rock N’ Soul Museum, WEVL-FM 90.

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Music Music Features

Sound Advice

John Prine

The Keith Sykes Song-writer Showcase gears up again this week with a bang as the best of the “New Dylans,” John Prine, joins Sykes and guest Roger Cook at the Black Diamond. The show starts at 8 p.m. on Thursday, February 22nd, with a $15 cover.

After having to cancel their last advertised gig at Young Avenue Deli to open for the North Mississippi Allstars in Chicago, Lucero is back at the Hi-Tone Café on Saturday, February 24th, with the Kansas City band Secret Liquor Cure. — Chris Herrington

The Circuit Riders, a group of talented youngsters from Oxford town, claim that their music is a hybrid of Southern rock and Americana, but I just don’t buy it. Their song “Hat Giver” begins like a tom-tom-happy Led Zeppelin (lyrically substituting mermaids on the Mississippi for Zep’s fantastical characters from Tolkien’s Middle Earth) then smoothly morphs into a rootsy mid-Seventies Stones rip-off. The twangy, jangly ballad “Around the Bend” sounds a lot like an unlikely duet between Uncle Tupelo and the Revolver-era Beatles. Their recording of an incredibly dated Faces cover, “Glad and Sorry,” begins with the spoken indictment: “We need everybody to support local music.” The irony is almost painful. But one thing is for certain, the kids can play the fool out of their instruments. They also have a good ear for intricate and eclectic arrangements. Hopefully they will, with time, stop using their influences as crutches and develop a sound all their own. Still, it’s great to watch young bands develop, and they are certainly worth checking out. Do so when they play the Hi-Tone Café Thursday, February 22nd. The Hi Tone also features C&W powerhouse The Derailers on Friday and the utterly amazing acoustic roots mob The Asylum Street Spankers on Sunday. Go Hi-Tone. That’s one heck of a weekend!

The Bluff City Backsliders are a skronky, sloppy, glorious mess of an old-time Memphis jug band. Between Jason Freeman’s throaty (Gus Cannon only wished) vocals, John (Lucero) Stubblefield’s plucky bass, Mike (Fatback Jubilee) Graber’s manic mandolin, Clint (Mash-o-Matic) Wagoner’s sawing fiddle, and Jack (Professor Elixir) Adcock’s awesome scratch board and spit-drenched jug-work this Memphis superband can deliver the soulful, spirited, and often very funny sounds that first made Beale Street famous. Throw in some zippy kazoos, a mean dobro, and effective, minimal drum-work and you have the swampy recipe for a nasty hangover. They are playing 8-11 p.m. every Wednesday at Beale Street’s Blues Hall. Ah, at last — something authentic on the street that Mr. Handy built. — Chris Davis

Props should go to Clutch for longevity, especially since all nine of their releases have borne a different record label imprint. Their latest, Pure Rock Fury, is on Atlantic records, and while, despite the title, some fans may complain that Clutch doesn’t rock as hard as in their early days, the band goes beyond that to contribute to the redefinition of the term “heavy.” This fine album demands a journey back through the Clutch catalog to witness the evolution of a band fusing hard core and hard rock through roots music, jazz, and go-go. Clutch will be at the New Daisy Theatre on Tuesday, February 27th, with Corrosion of Conformity, Spirit Caravan, and Clearlight. — Pat Mitchell

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Music Record Reviews

Short Cuts

Babyface: A Collection

of His Greatest Hits

Babyface

(Epic)

A lot of blame can be indirectly attributed to Kenneth “Babyface” Edmonds and his track record as a producer for artists such as Boyz II Men, Sheena Easton, Bobby Brown, TLC, Whitney Houston, Madonna, Brandy, and even that old geezer Eric Clapton. His silky yet clattery production formula has become something of a template for the screechy teen-pop that has infested the charts and the airwaves these last few years. And that doesn’t even take into account his own tepid work as a solo recording artist, which is chronicled on this estimable greatest hits package.

So if his production and solo work are slick and formulaic then how to explain the undeniable attractiveness and, um, soulfulness of his singing? ‘Face, as he is known in music biz circles, has a very expressive voice: quavery, melismatic, full of feeling, kind of like Little Anthony’s (of the Imperials) without the pop drama and sissyman blues quotient. Babyface always turns in a solid vocal performance in the midst of forced funk beats and overly lush production. Edmonds has a well-known affection for ’70s singer/songwriter material (a la James Taylor and Bill Withers) and this shows even on these bloated tracks. However, when he does go for a more stripped-down production style, the instrumental track becomes more grating because there are fewer melodic instruments to cover up the clattering percussion and clichéd drum machine programming.

He sells millions and has arrived as a biz insider who can be depended on to shore up the sagging careers of aging veterans or smooth over teen pop’s rough edges. Kenneth Edmonds’ dream of having a successful, long-term career in the music industry has certainly come true for him, but his sound is mainly headache-inducing. Shame about the wasted voice though. — Ross Johnson

Grade: C

Bow Down to the Exit Sign

David Holmes

(1500 Records)

Movies with “found” soundtracks are often great (Tati’s Playtime, Altman’s California Split), but soundtracks seeking films are often dicey (Eno’s Music For Films, anything by Radiohead). The underlying aesthetic of both ventures is the same, though: the attempt to conjure one medium through the imaginative use of another. Only it’s more successful in movies than it is in music, because a movie rarely plunges the viewer into darkness to concentrate on sounds. In contrast, records are often incidental soundtracks that complement the lives of their listeners but rarely stop them cold. I mean, who has time for staring into the blackness and contemplating imaginary images backed by bass, drums, and keyboards?

Dublin, Ireland, musician David Holmes does, but based on the drippy imaginary “trailer” description in the liner notes, here’s hoping he sticks to making music. Besides, the concept grounding Bow Down to the Exit Sign (as well as 1997’s Let’s Get Killed) is plenty rich and evocative: The Foreigner Bears Witness To Bizarre Tales of the City. His second attempt to draw a chalk outline of urban America through unlikely samples and found hepcat conversations is coarser, less campy, and meaner than its starry-eyed predecessor, which might signify Holmes’ growing discontent with the quality of life in our big cities. Then again, it might signify an attempt to reach down into its concrete heart for a little bit of old-fashioned film noir menace, which Jon Spencer aptly approximates on “Bad Thing.” But who cares if the film part of the equation is ever completed when Holmes gives you actual songs as funky as The French Connection, with lyrics and riffs and propulsion and even a chorus on the first track (“Trying to keep it real/but compared to what?”) that I’ve wanted to hear my whole life? — Addison Engelking

Grade: A-

Mass Romantic

The New Pornographers

(Mint Records)

An ad hoc act composed of musicians from various indie outfits, the Canadian-heavy New Pornographers play a decidedly lo-fi brand of pop music that might be compared to the cream of the Elephant 6 crop. But as the smart, driving, vaguely retro Mass Romantic proves, the Pornographers’ tunes are more accessible and direct and less willfully esoteric than those by many of their Southern counterparts.

Sharing vocal duties are critical darling Neko Case, former Zumpano singer Carl Newman, and erstwhile Destroyer member Blaine Thurier. Newman has an athletic voice that bops along with energetic melodies like the new-wave “The Body Says No,” and Thurier sounds like the Canadian counterpart to Britain’s career eccentric Robyn Hitchcock. But the real standout on Mass Romantic is Case, who belts just a few songs, most notably the title track and “Letter from an Occupant.” Still full of sass and spirit, she displays surprising versatility as a vocalist, shedding the torch-and-twang of last year’s stunning Furnace Room Lullaby and re-creating herself as a pop chanteuse of unexpected power.

The Pornographers half-bury such dynamic vocals and well-developed melodies in guitar buzz and production distortion. But it all works: The effect is a slow revelation of the songs’ many charms over several listens. — Stephen Deusner

Grade: A-

Lost Souls

Doves

(Astralwerks)

The Doves are an almost entirely organic three-piece band that rose from the ashes of not-so-organic Sub Sub — stalwarts on the British techno scene for a good 10 years. Displaying a backward logic in modern rock, Doves shed any and all hint of electronica, falling squarely between dance-pop like the Happy Mondays and sonic blueprinting a la My Bloody Valentine, making for a House of Love living in a Radiohead world, if you will. So, yes, there is that inevitable ghost lingering about, but any topical, semi-underground British pop is going to have a hard time avoiding such a cultural icon.

Now that the name-checking is out of my system, I will say that the songs are built around some inescapable hooks, and when all is said and done, that is what’s paramount, not whom you’ve borrowed a sound from. The guitars are affected but kept in check, no matter how much it seems they want to display some serious histrionics. Instead, underhanded somberness, or maybe even menace, prevails ahead of just showing off a pedal selection. Vocals are spot-on and avoid heavy-handedness — a welcome stance in a world filled with Brit-pop Freddie Mercurys. Kudos are also in order for the subtle Raging Bull-ish cover art. Hey, it could have been the standard abandoned airport imagery, which is becoming a little hard on the peepers. Whenever Radiohead decides to give it up, they can rest easy knowing that bands like Doves are making confident pop in their wake. n — Andrew Earles

Grade: B

You can e-mail Chris Herrington at herrington@memphisflyer.com.

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Music Music Features

AN INTERVIEW WITH MICHAEL HOUSER

Standing in front of the Peabody Hotel 10 years ago, Widespread Panic guitarist and vocalist Michael Houser phoned his parents and told them that he just found out he was going to be a father for the first time. He was in town to perform in a Panic show at the now defunct Antenna club. Several months later he had his first son, Waker, and in May of this year his first daughter Eva was born.

“That’s probably my biggest Memphis connection, finding out here that I was going to be father for the first time. We (the band) all love the Memphis shows. We love coming here,” Houser says in an afternoon telephone interview from Louisville, Kentucky, where the band was preparing to give a show at the Louisville Palace.

“The music history of Memphis is important to everybody,” says Houser. Widespread Panic plays in Memphis to a sold-out house, along with the North Mississippi All-stars, Friday and Saturday, November 24th and 25th for their first Mid-South Coliseum concerts. Houser says he regrets that the weather is too inhospitable to play at the Mud Island Amphitheater, one of his favorite venues, which is becoming too cramped for their ever increasing roll of fans.

The Athens, Georgia-based band plays a unique Southern influenced brand of rock-and-roll, which is also rooted in blues, country, and jazz at times. It is impossible to put a label on their style of play. Some group them together with groove bands such as the Grateful Dead and Phish. The in-your-face guitar rifts from Houser and John “J.B.” Bell (guitar), coupled with the speed-demon keyboard work of John “Jo Jo” Herman, and the driving bass of Dave Schools, all laying on top of a thumping bed of percussion laid down by Domingo “Sonny” Ortiz (congas and varied percussion) and the tireless drum work of Todd Nance is enough send the crowd rolling into the aisles.

“You can’t really compare us to Phish. I think they are just totally a different style of music,” explains Houser. Although he is right that the musical styles between Phish and Panic are different, it is the eagerness of both bands to stray from the music sheets and explore new territory that links them in some minds.

When asked if the demise of Phish might bring the Panic a bigger following, Houser responds, “Well, it’s just like when Jerry [Garcia] died. I don’t think people wake up one morning and say, ‘Hey, well I really liked the Dead, but now I am going to start following the Panic because the Grateful Dead aren’t playing anymore.’ I don’t expect to wake up in a different world tomorrow because Phish isn’t playing anymore.”

Pollstar rated Widespread Panic 51st in the magazine’s top 100 touring bands of 1999. That came without MTV hype or consistent top-40 radio play. “We live off of word of mouth,” says Houser, whose band’s open taping policy sends digital copies of their concerts streaming over the Internet.

“I really don’t have any problem with sites like Napster who give out discs for free. I can see how a band like Metallica, who relies mostly on record sales to make a living, might have a problem with it, but our fans are going to buy our C.D.’s anyway, even if they have all the live shows, or if they were available off the Internet for free.” Houser says that the band sells about 100,000 to 200,000 copies of each disc — low levels by industry standards. However, what they lack in C.D. revenue is more than made up for during their tireless 100-plus shows yearly. They set a one-day New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival record in 1999, attracting 63,000 concertgoers to their show. Their 1998 Athens, Georgia Light Fuse and Get Away CD release party set the outdoor concert record with over 100,000 people in attendance.

Houser, heavily influenced by the guitar rock of the Seventies, recently had one of his dreams fulfilled when they when they were joined on stage by Robbie Krieger of the Doors for renditions of Light My Fire and Stop Breakin’ Down, in Los Angeles last November. When asked what music he is listening to these days, Houser laughs, “I listen mostly to my kids! I don’t really listen to much rock these days . . . I listen to a lot of ethnic music and classical. I usually just tune it to N.P.R. (National Public Radio) and listen to whatever they throw at me.”

He explains that most of the band is married and several of them have kids now. “It’s always hard to leave my family, but it’s what we do,” he continues. “And we have kind of grown up on the road. It’s what we love.” His wife and children join him for some of the more interesting venues, including their European tour last year.

Panic will spend this Thanksgiving on the road in Nashville while Houser’s wife and children will be having dinner with her parents at his home in Athens. “We [the band and crew] will all have a Thanksgiving dinner together in Nashville while getting ready for the Memphis shows. We always have big Thanksgiving dinners together since we are always on the road.”

Widespread played a Memphis show at the Orpheum in 1994 during the night of the infamous ice storm. “We thought briefly about canceling the show, because we just didn’t think anybody would be able to make it, but our manger insisted we go on . . . and we got ready to play, and a lot of people had made it through the ice, which was pretty fearsome that night. That was a good night,” Houser says. “Memphis was one of the earliest cities where we could go and expect a crowd, having a good time. We had some good times at the Antenna Club, that’s where I told the rest of the band that I was going to have my first child.”

The Panic comes to Memphis on this tour with a new soundman who had not even heard about the Panic a month ago. They completely replaced their sound and light crew recently, reacting to feedback from the fans. “That was our whole motivation for changing. We were getting a lot of comments about the sound. People were writing and calling saying ‘I can’t hear this.’” Houser says that the recent feedback from fans indicate that the sound problems have been cleared up. The staff at the Widespread Panic office, the Black Cat crew, peruse the multiple Internet chatrooms and message boards dedicate to the Panic, reading the fans’ comments and relaying them to the band.

Widespread Panic started a new recording project which they will focus on beginning in January at John Keane’s studio in Athens. They have some songs already recorded, “but you never know what’s going to happen. Sometimes you end up with something totally different than what you started with.” Houser says the production of the new album shouldn’t delay their Spring 2001 tour. The album is a collaborative work with the songs written by all of the band members.

“We usually end up with too many songs,” Houser says. “We usually have more songs than the discs allow.” Panic Producer John Keane’s input is crucial at this stage of the creative process. Another Joyous Occasion, Panic’s latest release, came out earlier this year and featured live cuts of the band joined by the Dirty Dozen Brass Band from New Orleans.

“Come with your party hat on,” he says. “Each Memphis show has been special to us in different ways,” explains Houser. They have certainly been special to the Panic crowd lucky enough to see them in Memphis. One thing for certain, when the Coliseum lights go down Friday night and the Panic sound rolls out, we are all in for another joyous occasion.

Categories
Music Music Features

An Interview With Jerry Schilling

Jerry Schilling, president of the Memphis and Shelby County Music
Commission, recently completed his first full year in the office. With a new
strategic plan and budget approved for year two, Schilling sat down with us to
discuss the Commission’s accomplishments and plans for the future, the criticism
it has received, and the status of the local music industry.

What are your general feelings on your first year on the job?

I feel very good about it. I felt very strongly that I was the right person for
this job because of my contacts in the industry on the West Coast and because
I’m from here. I think you need to be both. I felt that an industry person, a
national industry person who really didn’t understand Memphis, would have a hard
time being productive here. To come back to Memphis and be president of the
music commission — it doesn’t get any better for me. But I needed to learn
Memphis as a music city today– not the history part, I know that. I really
wanted to find out what the current musicians were doing here and what they
needed. There was a lot of organizing, finding an office, paperwork. There was
so much of that during the first year, just getting started

The idea of our health care initiative [a program providing health insurance for
local working musicians, the music commission’s primary project during year one]
is that I didn’t want to have this successful looking music commission on one
side and the music community on the other side, and the two never met. It was my
first way of saying “we’re here for you and we’re going to work on this.” But
now it’s imperative that we concentrate strictly on the music. Now when I say
strictly, we won’t forget about health care, but it’s not going to be our main
objective this year.


What do you perceive as the role of the music commission? What need doesit
fill that wasn’t already being filled?

I feel that there is a basic role that Mayor Herenton and Mayor Rout set the
commission up to fill: All things musical should flow through the music
commission. The music commission is not in competition with any other
organization here. Quite to the contrary, we’re a support system. We’ve already
been working very closely with NARAS. Jon Hornyak [executive director of the
local NARAS chapter] is on our commission. NARAS is part of our health care
program. We want anyone with music related activities to come to us. We’re sort
of a clearinghouse.

But besides working with existing music entities, the ultimate goal of the music
commission is to bring production into Memphis. The bottom line is that we need
Memphis to be an economically sound music city. We need to bring people in.
There’s a lot going on here, a lot of signings. Press is one way we have to get
our message out. But before we went national and international, I wanted to have
the city behind us and at the same time I wanted to be out there seeing what
acts we had that, if we brought in national A&R people, these are acts that
would have a chance to get signed on a national level. One of the things we’ve
been working on since I got here was I wanted to bring music-related conventions
into town. We’re having a convention in June, the first convention of the
International Black Broadcasters Association, and we’ll have the top record and
TV executives in the country here. We need to build a sound music industry here,
but that’s going to take a lot of time.

Let’s talk about some specific issues. We might as well start with the
health care plan. What’s the extent of the involvement so far, in terms of how
many people have inquired about the program and how many people have signed up?

We have 17 people signed up and 100 plus inquiries. [Note: Since this interview
took place 4 more people have been signed on to the plan] We learned a lot those
first few months: that our standard of 51 percent [percentage of income one
would have to gain from music in order to be eligible] was too high for most
musicians working here. So a lot of people that originally inquired didn’t fit
either our requirements or the MEMPHIS Plan [health care plan run by the Church
Health Center] requirements. We’re lowering our requirements. For example, in
the MEMPHIS Plan musicians have to work at least 20 hours a week [to be
eligible], and I’ve been able to convince them that rehearsal time is work,
lugging stuff around is work. That’s why we’re going to have a new campaign, so
hopefully some of the people who inquired will come back. We were lucky enough
to raise $110,000, so we have enough money to pay the premiums for musicians
that are on it and still advertise so we can open this thing up.


Wasn’t the originally stated goal was 200-300 people?

We figured 100-200 at most. If we get 100 people I think we’re successful. If we
only get 17 people? I could still be happy about that.

Let’s talk a little about outreach. You obviously read the article in the
CA where local musicians spoke about the commission. One of them said that he
didn’t think a lot of local musicians were really aware of the commission. Are
you concerned at all about any perceived cliquishness?

Good question. The person who said that was [Pawtuckets member and Madjack
Records co-owner] Mark McKinney, who I had a good meeting with last week. It was
a surprise to me, and yet I still understand it. But I was on TV 20 hours last
year. I was in all the print media and a great deal of radio, where I talked
about the Music Commission and what it was doing. And the press has been good to
us. But saying that I’ve done a lot of press is one thing. I’ve tried to analyze
that since that CA article. Maybe people know who I am, but they don’t know
enough about the commission. So I want to involve the commission more. I want
the commission to have a face and voice out there, and it can’t be just one
person. As far as cynicism, I know there’s been a history of music commissions
in Memphis that goes back 30 something years. I think, as a whole, music
commissions are suspect. We don’t have a great track record here. But my whole
life has been about music. I understand why, as far as the government and
musicians, there would be skepticism, but I’m not that guy. Everybody just has
to look at my history. IÕve lived with artists all of my life. That’s why I came
back here. What I think is important is that the government, city and county,
didn’t just say, “let’s have a music commission,” but they’re funding it.
They’ve given us the money to get started here. And that says to me, and I hope
to the musicians, “your government finally cares about you enough to do
something.” But now we need the musicians to come in and tell us how we can do
that. And we’ll offer things as well. [Commission member] Knox Phillips and I
plan on setting up a musician’s advisory committee.

People use the term “the music community.” But don’t you think it might
be more accurate that there are different communities, plural. Isn’t that an
issue for the commission? There are people who are more centered on the Beale
Street establishment versus people playing mostly at rock clubs in town– like
the Hi-Tone or Young Avenue Deli– versus people in the hip-hop community, and
maybe there’s not a natural overlap there?

Absolutely. That’s one of the things that makes this job so awesome is that we
have to represent all music here. I think that, as far as the diversity, if we
want Memphis music to be self-sufficient, then we’ve got to have the rising tide
theory. I read an article before I got here where Isaac Hayes said he’d like to
come back and record in Memphis, but people here don’t talk. But I’m finding
when I sit down to talk to people here, I’m not getting a lot of nos. But saying
that, I think we can’t ignore, and I think we need to support as much as we
can– and I may be hitting on a nerve here–what’s happening in Memphis, big
time, with hip hop and rap. I don’t want in the 21st century for us to make the
same mistake we made 50 years ago. So, I don’t think that as president of the
music commission I can go out and promote gangster rap, but I don’t think I can
ignore it either. I read in the Los Angeles Times that Memphis was number three
in terms of rap production in the country and number five in terms of consuming
it. So I made it real clear to the commission– and nobody had a problem with
this– that if I was representing all music in Memphis, I also had to represent
hip hop and rap. It’s a delicate balance, I think. If there were two things I
could point to that have the most potential here, it would be gospel and rap.


Your written list of goals includes something called the Memphis Studio
Alliance. What is that?

I could bring some of the top A&R people in here, but I’d like to have a
showcase of some of the top unsigned bands, so I think that the studio alliance
can help the commission know who’s out there, what’s going on, who has some
potential, and we’ll try to organize that with all the studios. And then, from
time to time, have a showcase here, maybe sponsored by the studios and the
commission, to bring in the A&R people. Let’s call the studio alliance a way to
bring back the old Crossroads [music showcase], which I never saw but I learned
about. I’m not concerned about getting people here the first time, I’m worried
about them coming back. I know they can have a good time eating barbecue, going
down to Beale Street. But these people are extremely busy. Will they come back?
With the talent here and if we can find a way for the studios to present that
talent, we can get them back. The other part of the studio alliance is where if
band A goes to House of Blues and that’s not the place for them to record, then
we can direct them to Ardent or somewhere instead of having them go to Nashville
or Los Angeles. And people I’ve talked to so far love the idea.


But what about the failure of Crossroads and what that means for future
attempts for showcases?

My understanding was that it started off small and very selective, and that’s
why it produced results. Then I think that after that success, it got bigger and
became more of a beer bash rather than a selective event to try and get artists
shown. Again, this is second-hand knowledge, but I’ve talked with people who
have been involved with it, and that’s the understanding I have.


The initial set of goals [in September of 1999] expressed a lot of concern
over the concert situation in Memphis; concern that I’d say is warranted. Let me
read back to you one of your comments from those written goals and have you
respond: “I feel strongly that any plan about Memphis music must address our
current concert problems. Managers, agents, and promoters have become fearful of
the Memphis market, even though, logistically, we are right on their routes.”
Could you elaborate on that?

I think that’s one of the things we have to change our attitude about. If I’m a
manager on the West coast and I have a band that’s on the charts and the band
needs to tour and needs to sell tickets, I’m going to bypass Memphis, and that’s
a shame.


Why?

Since I’ve been here, I’ve seen three major concerts canceled. But even the
shows that I went to, like Paul Simon and Bob Dylan– to have that few people is
just amazing. You wouldn’t be able to get tickets in L.A. You’d have to get the
third show. What’s the reason? What people have told me, me being new to the
local area, was that the problem is Tunica. So the first thing I did was I went
to Tunica and started up a relationship there.

Sure, Tunica is an issue in terms of our concert situation. But the
casinos are still pretty limited in the type of music they bring. It’s country,
it’s blues, and it’s oldies. In terms of contemporary rock music, hip-hop, even
younger-oriented R&B, the casino area isn’t an issue, but yet Memphis still has
a concert problem in those areas.

I agree with what you’re saying. Our numbers are off.


Is it an issue of discretionary income and rising ticket prices?

Well, all of the above. I think that rising ticket prices are an issue here. I
think the ticket prices we get are viable in L.A. and New York. But the income
here isn’t the same. Also, I really think we miss Bob Kelly. He knew how to
promote. I don’t see a lot of excitement. But the music commission has to be
involved in the concert scene. My experience in that area is one of the things
that got me here. But another problem is that people think they’re coming into a
one million person market, but in the concert business it’s probably only a half
a million market, because I don’t see as much [racial crossover] as on a
national level. I can’t think of any acts that have come here lately who have
gotten a mix of these million people.

How important is the health of the concert scene, in terms of national
acts coming through town, to the health of the local music scene?

I think it’s very important. Acts coming through town, it’s a real good
indicator of the music business in a town, one indicator anyway. But if you’re
trying to establish a good music business and your concert business is spotty,
that hurts. Again, all of this is a rising tide theory. Within the industry,
Memphis is a tough nut to crack. If you’ve got a hot act that’s building
something, you don’t want to take a chance of going into a market that has a
history of cancellations or no sell-outs. When I really think about cities that
have a good music industry, I think you see the concert business going
hand-in-hand. So, for that reason alone, it’s very important.


The commission’s original mission statement mentioned building an industry
that puts as much of a mark on the 21st century as it did the 20th. Do you think
that’s even possible, given that the historical circumstances that produced
those earlier music explosions don’t really exist anymore?

Well, I think all that we can do is to support an infrastructure that allows
creativity to flow. Like with health care, one thing that does is give musicians
more freedom. You set up the structure and you support it. But you still have in
this area, this 200-mile area around here, a unique diversification of people
and music. I think that uniqueness brings about a creative explosion. You’re
talking about blues, then Sun, then Stax. And we’re all sitting around thinking,
“what will be the next thing for Memphis?” But maybe it’s already happening.
Third in production of rap music in the country without even trying to be.
Without even acknowledging it. You never know where it’s coming from.
Rock-and-roll never knew where it was coming from. There’s no manufacturing of
success in this business.


But don’t you think that people have unrealistic expectations for the
present and future of Memphis music based upon what’s happened in the past?

I hope not, because I don’t think that’s the way to go about it. You do this
because you love the music and you should want to be self-supporting. I don’t
think in the real music world, certainly not in Memphis, you only go after it to
get on the charts. n

Categories
Music Music Features

The Dixie Chicks with Willie Nelson Opening

At the Dixie Chicks concert Saturday at the Pyramid, country legend Willie Nelson opened the show with a quick, rambling greatest hits set obviously geared towards a crowd that probably wasn’t very familiar with his huge catalogue. So Nelson stuck to obvious fare like “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain,” “Always on My Mind,” and his de facto theme song, “On the Road Again.” Playing before a backdrop that promoted his Web site (www.willienelson.com, if you were wondering) and with a seven-piece band that included bass, harmonica, piano (looked like his sister Bobbie), two percussionists, and two additional guitars, this was classic Nelson– braided ponytails, red bandana, and red, white, and blue guitar strap.

Nelson closed his set with a mini-tribute to two of the few American musicians whose stature rivals his own, offering up versions of Hank Williams’ “Jambalaya” and “My Bucket’s Got a Hole In It,” and the Elvis-identified “Just Because.” And, speaking of the King, Nelson tossed red bandanas to the crowd with the frequency that Vegas-era Elvis used to toss scarves.

Nelson’s set seemed a little off, as if the weirdness of his being an opening act and the musically unfriendly arena atmosphere were cramping his style. In this context, the Dixie Chicks put on a better show, in fact, one of the best arena shows I’ve seen in a long time. The rootsy pop band played an 18-song set and two-song encore before an adoring sell-out crowd of dolled-up dixie chicks and the guys who tagged along. Live, they confirmed two of my previously held beliefs: That they’re a lot better on the up-tempo pop stuff than the slow ones and harder country songs, and that although their records are merely decent, this is about the most invigorating and culturally righteous really popular pop music around today.

Cynics and lazy critics grouse that the band is a country music Spice Girls, but, as this performance made clear, the world that produced country icons past isn’t the same one that produced the Dixie Chicks, and this band speaks to and for their female, suburban fan base in as honest, direct, and engaging a manner as you could hope.

Opening the show with their best single, the not-ready-to-settle-down anthem “Ready to Run” and closing the dopier sexual liberation manifesto “Sin Wagon,” this isn’t your grandmother’s country music, and I say good for them. Glammed-up, moving freely around the stage, and leading their all-male band with the musical skill critics like to gloss over, the show leaned heavily on their two multi-platinum albums, and if neither of those records is quite ready for the time capsule, the show’s succession of engaging and recognizing hits — even to a non-fan like me — proved that this band has a pretty good greatest hits album in their future.

After a brief pause, the band opened their encore by surprising the crowd with lead singer Natalie Maines playing from the concert floor at the back of the hall and sisters Martie Seidel (violin) and Emily Robison (mandolin) playing from the rafters on opposite ends of the Pyramid. The band played, “Goodbye Earl,” their controversial hit about a woman who murders her abusive husband. The band then returned to the stage for a show-closing crowd sing-along of its own de facto theme song, “Wide Open Spaces,” sending everybody home happy.

(You can write Chris Herrington at herrington@memphisflyer.com)

Categories
Music Music Features

F*** Chicken

“F*** Chicken”

They spell it all wrong, but Rhino’s I Love Bar-B-Q was made for Memphis in May.

by CHRIS DAVIS

“Well I says north side, south side, east side, west. I know where the barbecue’s the best

I ain’t gonna tell you, cause here’s the point

It took me too long to find the joint.”

— “I Love Barbecue,”

The Guy Brothers and Orchestra

Oh sure, people take a lot of pride in their gumbos. They boast about their chili, their tamales, their chili-tamales, and their old noni’s special spaghetti sauce. Stupid people. Everybody knows that’s all small potatoes. It takes a lip-smacking pile of shredded shoulder or a rack of tongue-tickling ribs to get the fussy-foodie’s splendorphins pumping, YO.

Barbecue can generate an unprecedented amount of goodwill, but it can also ignite bitter feuds. Perfectly civil and otherwise upstanding ladies and gentlemen will forego debate entirely, roll up their starched sleeves, and take to the sweltering streets brawling like drunken guttersnipes over issues like, “Chopped or Pulled?” We Westerners have behaved in this irrational fashion since a group of seafaring Spanish roughnecks discovered that certain Native Americans liked to slow-roast their meats over an open flame — a technique they called “barbacoa.”

In this modern world, the question of who deals in the dopest ‘cue is infinitely debatable since the dish changes drastically from state to state, town to town, and in some cases block to block. In Virginia and the Carolinas, barbecue consists of roasted shoulder chopped and mixed with a thin (wussified if you ask a true Southerner) vinegar sauce. Texas barbecue is almost all beef ribs or brisket, and the fire it is cooked over is fueled by hickory, mesquite, or oak wood only — no charcoal allowed. Kansas City is famous for its chargrilled spareribs and burned-to-a-cinder brisket pieces (they call ’em brownies; we call ’em yuck). From ribs to shoulder to brisket; from family gathering to political event; from coast to coast and from time immemorial, barbecue has been the unquestioned king of not-so-fine-dining. And Memphis, Tennessee, the home of the blues and birthplace of rock-and-roll is Mecca, the Holy See of sweet, smoky hawg-flesh. We rule the rib-roost. Amen. None of the above information has been lost on the good folks at Rhino, whose compilation I Love Bar-B-Q smokes, top-to-bottom.

Do you like jazz? Garage rock? R&B, straight-up blues? Do you like barbecue? Oh, you know that you love it all, and Rhino’s late ’99 release I Love Bar-B-Q has plenty to go around, and slaw to boot. It should be declared by Mayor W.W. the official soundtrack of the barbecue festival. Not only does the disk feature 14 amazing tracks (and 2 lame-O cuts) dedicated to the big yummy, its liner notes are packed with enough information to make even the least experienced smoker sound like the pit-boss of the party. A brief history of barbecue is accompanied by helpful hints from rib raconteurs and plenty of hunger-inducing illustrations. If you are the kind of geek who actually reads such things, you’ll discover that apple wood makes the pig taste slightly sweet and that pecan wood makes it taste nutty. The liners also suggest that hickory wood makes the pig taste like bacon, but we somehow suspect that’s because most bacon is hickory-smoked.

Though most of the CD sounds like it was recorded inside a bucket, the weird production values hardly seem to matter. This disk was intended to be cranked up only on nights when the you-know-what’s in the ground, the beer’s on ice, and all your rowdy friends are coming over. With swinging saxophones and meaningful lyrics such as “neckbones and hot sauce” (repeated ad infinitum), this greasy offering delivers everything it promises, minus the indigestion.

Can you beat rhymes like “Way down in Harlem there’s a place called Pete’s shortly after midnight where you get your eats, the kids all gather because they’d rather roll up their sleeves, put on their bibs, and have a mess of barbecue ribs”? To hell with tired tunes like “Louie, Louie.” “Riffin’ at the Bar-B-Q,” “Pork Chops,” “Barbecue Any Old Time,” and “Hot Barbecue” are all obscure gems that should be elevated to the venerable position of required party-time listening. Only the unrepentantly awful “TV Barbecue” and the pretty darn bad “Beale Street Barbecue” mar this otherwise noble endeavor.

You can e-mail Chris Davis at davis@memphisflyer.com.