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Music Music Blog

Lawrence Matthews Comes Out Swinging

If you thought Don Lifted concerts used to be rare, Lawrence Matthews shows are even more so, leaving all who attended last Saturday’s sold out performance at the Green Room feeling lucky. Of course, the two artists are one in the same, Don Lifted being Matthews’ stage name for many years even as he built a name and a reputation in visual art under his given name. Then, back in September of 2022, Don Lifted took his final bow during one last show at the Overton Park Shell. A few minutes later, out came Lawrence Matthews, rapper, spitting tougher rhymes than ever, flanked by Idi x Teco.

That announced a new direction in Matthews’ music, but it also turned out to be a hiatus of sorts. The one sign of action was Matthews’ release, last May, of the single “Green Grove (Our Loss),” the first cut from what is still the unreleased album Between Mortal Reach and Posthumous Grip. And while that track sported some very Don Lifted-esque atmospherics until its harder-hitting beat kicked in, it then featured Matthews’ new voice, full of grim determination yet mixed with a new playfulness that made it even scarier as he sang of “This blood, this soil, infused, this river …”

Last Saturday, after the pre-show playlist of classic soul wound down, that same tune was the first thing audience members heard as Matthews stepped into the center of the chairs in-the-round, mic in hand. In stark contrast to the often elaborate sets and multiple screens of Don Lifted shows, this show was stripped bare, the music’s auteur wearing the utilitarian garb of a mechanic or delivery driver in a single beam of light.

Meanwhile, some of the sounds were downright lush, as other prolonged samples of soul, gospel, and blues (most taken from the Fat Possum-owned Hi Records catalogue) often shaped the intros, sometimes drenched in effects like echoes from the past, before giving way to harder, more militant beats and Matthews’ angrier raps, almost reminiscent of classic KRS-One, delivered solo as he prowled the floor for most of the night (except for a brief, powerful cameo by Idi x Teco).

Lawrence Matthews in The Green Room (Credit: Gabrielle Duffie)

At one point, that lush soul threated to engulf the night, as Matthews turned one track’s prolonged intro of “(Lay Your Head on My) Pillow” by Tony! Toni! Toné! into a singalong of sorts. Ultimately, it always came back down to hard slamming raps and beats (often co-created on the upcoming album with Unapologetic producer C Major, who was low-key in attendance Saturday night).

“It’s been a year and four months since I performed,” Matthews noted. “All through 2023, I was just tucked away, not really recording music, not really practicing anything.” Indeed, the album he promises to release later this year was essentially finished in 2022. “And while I was away, it just seemed like shit kept getting worse and worse in the world. And in this city, too.” He noted how he began hearing people’s “weight, frustration, and tightness, until it turned into desperation.”

All of that came out in his performance, and even in one moment in which Matthews, like his audience, simply listened and grooved along. That was when Matthews the performer was set aside and the artist implored us to simply listen to a track, “An Acquired Taste,” from his upcoming album. He too became a fan as it played on, featuring a powerful cameo by the singer Uni’Q.

Then it was back to business, as the pounding beats and atmospheric samples ground on, ultimately providing background to one of Matthews’ latest tracks, a meditation on the murder of Breonna Taylor by police officers titled “Breonna’s Curse.” In that final moment, however, the militant, simmering rage of most of the night’s beats and raps faded away somewhat, and Matthews ended the concert with something unexpected: a profound sense of mourning.

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Film Features Film/TV

Music Video Monday: “Lost In Orion” by Don Lifted

Music Video Monday got a new ride.

Don Lifted recently signed with Fat Possum records. He christens the new ride with his most ambitious music video yet, “Lost in Orion.” Matthews co-directed the video with Joshua Cannon, and co-wrote it with Nubia Yasin. Sam Leathers is the cinematographer behind some arresting images, including a spectacular location shot in the empty Orpheum Theatre.

“‘Lost in Orion’ feels confessional to me,” says Mathews. “The weight of feelings that through the summer of 2020 couldn’t escape me, personally and societally. So much of those fears and anxieties manifested themselves in introspection, mystical imagery and poetry. It’s a sacrificial and ritualistic piece of art for me. A culmination of growth and shedding of every version of myself that’s been informed by love, societal pressures and fear. This visual is a new beginning for me. The end of many other things but the start of something I’ve been on a journey to share for quite some time.

“Working with Josh, Sam and the folks at Studio One Four Three has been something long in the works. It’s funny ’cause once I reached out we both expressed when didn’t feel ready enough to collaborate. The shoot days were very special in all of the beautiful and challenging ways making art can exist. Nubia Yasin, Amber Ahmad, Joshua Cannon, Sam Leathers and myself all trying to work toward the best ideas and ways to approach everything, trying to match the vision in my head as best as possible. The subject matter and the elements definitely had effects on all of us in various ways and pushed us toward our goals. I look forward to expanding this world we are building together in conjunction with this music.”

If you would like to see your music videos featured on Music Video Monday, email cmccoy@memphisflyer.com.

Categories
Music Music Features

Blasts of Static

Earlier this month, Fat Possum Records announced that the label would grant a long-overdue reissue campaign to the second and third Grifters full-lengths, 1993’s One Sock Missing and 1994’s Crappin’ You Negative (title taken from one of the best lines in Raising Arizona). Both albums, along with a slew of related 7″s and an EP, were originally released by our own Shangri-La Records but had fallen out of print during the post-millennial years, especially on vinyl.

The Grifters, formed by Stan Gallimore (drums), Tripp Lamkins (bass), Dave Shouse (vocals, guitar), and Scott Taylor (vocals, guitar) in 1990 out of the ashes of A Band Called Bud, had already hit the road hard and built a small nationwide following after the release of their 1992 debut So Happy Together. When they dropped sophomore effort One Sock Missing in 1993, the band garnered its next level of attention. Either unfairly lumped into the then-exploding Lo-Fi scene or the deconstructionist blues leanings of the also popular Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, the Grifters really sounded like very few of their contemporaries.

Dark, heavy, extremely noisy, fatalist, and often very catchy, the band made the absolute most out of the economical accommodations provided by Easley Studios, creating layer upon layer of noise pop in which there was actually quite a bit going on to the attentive ear. Printing Easley’s phone number in all of their liner notes was also a huge driving force in making the studio a major destination (Pavement, Sonic Youth, etc.) as the middle of the decade played out.

It could also be argued that this era of the Grifters played a big hand in spreading Ohio’s Guided by Voices to a larger underground audience, as both bands often found themselves touring together. One Sock Missing contains veritable Grifters’ classics “Bummer,” “She Blows Blasts of Static” (also a stand-alone 7″ on Shangri-La), “Corolla Hoist,” the brooding urban-psych nightmare of “Just Passing Out,” and wailing emotional catastrophe, “Encrusted,” among many others.

1994’s Crappin’ You Negative was a noticeable step forward and capitalized on the momentum achieved by slightly scaling back on the abstract dissonance and songs that just fell apart out of nowhere. Local shows had become capacity affairs at the Antenna and Barristers, and the Grifters were getting a ton of great press nationwide. Crappin’ You Negative, also recorded at Easley, kicks off with the bulldozing “Rats” and, like its predecessors, isn’t afraid to delve into the darker, more depressed enclaves of early ’90s indie rock with songs like “Dead Already,” “Junkie Blood,” and “Black Fuel Incinerator.” Each album side closes with one of the Grifters’ great sleeper “hits”; the plodding-but-beautiful dirge of “Felt Tipped Over” on the A-side and the stumbling power-pop brilliance of “Cinnamon.”

Live shows, of which quite a few serve as formative memories for this writer, could be a total mess or could be transcendent but were always worth seeing as the Grifters really made one proud to claim Memphis as a home base. As mentioned above, the band was getting noticed outside of town in magazines like Spin, and following a set at CBGB in NYC in 1994, The New York Times wrote:

“Beneath the fuzz and the clatter, the secrets of the band’s underground allure lay intact. The guitars were dipped deep in the blues tradition of their hometown, and the rhythm section often took detours into jazz. Mr. Shouse had a sixth sense for pop melody that made the audience work to retrieve the perfect pop pearl that lay inside cracked new rockers.”

Fat Possum’s release date for the two reissues is August 12th. Record label head honcho Bruce Watson explained that this project was a long time in the making.

“I’d always been a big fan, and we started talks with the band and Sherman (Willmott, of Shangri-La Projects/Records) around the turn of the year, and everyone came to an agreement about us buying the masters and making this stuff available on vinyl again,” Watson said.

“There isn’t any bonus material, because I don’t think any existed really, but each album will have great liner notes by Andria Lisle.”

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Sing All Kinds We Recommend

Leo Bud Welch To Be Honored at Juneteenth Festival

Leo Bud Welch will receive a Living Legend award at the Juneteenth Urban Music Awards on Thursday, June 12th, at the New Daisy. He will play the Juneteenth Festival on Friday at 9:15 in Robert Church Park. Welch is back in Mississippi following a tour of Europe. the 83-year-old Bruce, Mississippi, native came to prominence last year with the release of his debut album Sabougla Voices, a collaboration with the church choir he led in Bruce. Below is my piece on him for our music issue back in May.
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 Leo Bud Welch

Linking gospel and blues into one tight chain.

“Hard working man,” Leo Bud Welch said of himself and his 82 years. “I did some hard work in my life. I needed something to come along easier for me. Thank God, I got it going.”

Welch has it going all right. This year, his first CD, Sabougla Voices, got attention from NPR, and he worked on a film in New Orleans with Ryan Gosling. The gospel bandleader and bluesman is planning a tour of Europe and getting ready for his sets on Saturday at the Beale Street Music Festival. Welch’s blend of the spiritual and the secular seems to make perfect sense, in spite of the anxieties that other musicians faced as they crossed the great divide from the choir to the juke joint.

“Blues ain’t nothing but somebody’s life,” Welch says. “Just like the Bible telling the story of Jesus Christ. Blues is life. It’s about how hard you worked down through the years. Whether you got a girlfriend, y’all are liable to be on bad terms. Or your wife. Whatever. Blues is just explaining about life. Life on this earth.”

Welch has found some due recognition for a life spent in gospel music with his group the Sabougla Voices (the “ou” pronounced as in “know”). That group is from his lifelong church, the Sabougla Missionary Baptist Church, south of his home in Bruce, Mississippi. He hosted a gospel music show on a local television station. Welch also has a blues band. But much of his life was spent in the region’s logging industry.

“I run the chains. I cut timber,” Welch says. “I told my wife that if I had a dollar for every tree I trimmed off, I’d be a millionaire today. I called it a one-man band: the one-man saw. I mean, I cut a many a timber. I did that for 35 years. Right here in Bruce.”

Bruce, Mississippi, has a motto: “Where Money Grows in Trees and Hopes and Dreams Never Die.” The town of 2,000 people is currently home to seven logging companies. Timber was an essential asset of Mississippi, dating back to the Chickasaw tribe. The industry grew with the development of the sawmill and exploded with the advent of the railroad. E.L. Bruce was a hardwood-floor magnate, who later started Terminix to keep the termites out of his floors. In 1924, the E.L. Bruce Company set up the town of Bruce to service its lumber needs. It’s said that the whole town ran by the sawmill’s whistle. By the 1950s, Welch was spending less time with his guitar and more time with a chainsaw.

“It was mostly hardwood. We’d go over to the Delta and cut on the banks of the Mississippi River. All that. We’d cut trees right on the bank and they’d throw those tops in there and they’d have to go get them, you couldn’t leave all those tops in the water,” Welch says. “What we’d do is go down there on Monday, and we’d stay until Friday night when we’d come back to Bruce. We’d have a cook down on camp. Somebody’d cook. We couldn’t see when we’d go, and we couldn’t see when we’d come back. We worked from dark to dark. It got so I couldn’t see how to notch a tree.”

During his time on the logging crews, Welch still played in church. But even that had not always been acceptable.

“Back in them days, they didn’t hardly allow guitar in the church,” Welch says. “It was the devil’s work. You carry a guitar in there, and they say you’re sinning. Now, church don’t sound like that. Back in them days, they’d hardly have a piano. They might have an old piano, and somebody’d be — I call it peckin’ on it. Wouldn’t sound too good to me.”

Welch knew what sounded good. He played all sorts of music before he went into logging.

“I’ve been playing about 60-some-odd years,” Welch says. “I watched my first cousin. His name was R.C. Welch. He had a guitar, and me and his brother played on his guitar. We played around the house. And when I got big enough, we’d play in houses, at picnics. Picnics, like a three-day picnic out in the woods: ball games for three days straight, a picnic for three days straight. There would be a big crowd when different ball teams would come play ball. We mostly played at house parties. Some would call it [a] house dance or whatever. That’s when I started out. It was just me and my first cousin. There’d be others who came there to play. But they always wanted us to play. In other words — I’m not bragging — they were not as good as we were.”

Welch has never run from the blues, and he worked as a musician before he began logging.

“I played in clubs. I organized some guys in Grenada in a band called the Joy Jumpers. Walter Farmer played a steel guitar,” Welch says. “I played with different bands. We did a broadcast in Grenada at the hotel. It was 1400 on the radio dial. That was back in the 1950s.”

But the logging work put a stop to that.

“Now I wasn’t going out and playing at house parties late at night,” Welch says. But he kept his church music moving.

“Later on, I joined a gospel group here in Bruce called the Spirituales. I played lead guitar for them and sang a few songs. Then my sons were playing with me. They were about 16 or 17. I named that band Leo Welch and the Rising Soul Band,” Welch says. “We played places like the Cotton Patch in Tupelo. Down in Batesville, over on the river; we used to play up between Oxford and Holly Springs, a place they called the Barn. We used to play all up in there. We played all around. Our pastor would go out in the street and want the choir to go with him to sing. Nobody would go, except for me, my sister, and my sister-in-law. I named that group Leo Welch and Sabougla Voices. That’s what’s on that CD.”

While some African-American artists faced self-doubt and even public scorn over playing blues in what is still a religiously conservative society, the blending of secular and spiritual does not bother Welch.

“I’ve belonged to that church ever since I was young,” Welch says. “They built it for a school out there on that 16-section land. But somebody decided to go to having church there. It’s down south of here in Calhoun County, down the Number 8 highway. That’s the only place I went to school. I had to walk to school in the mud and in the water. Mud up to my ankles some times. I had those cut off boots. Raggly looking with patches all over them. Everything was great back in them days. More great you might even say than it is now. Everything’s gotten modern now. It’s going the modern way. They kept asking me about playing for the church. In the long run, they elected me to be an officer of the church. Of course I’m a deacon of the church in Sabougla. But since we’ve been going out playing, I tell them I’m going to be there when I can be there.”

I ask if he ever preached. He falls out laughing. Welch is passionate about gospel music and breaks into any song he hears in his mind, playing it finger-style on his pink guitar. He has the same infectious enthusiasm for blues, eagerly and happily playing the shared songs of his place and time.

“I don’t see where there’s no devil in the blues,” Welch says. “They do more devilsome things than that. Oh yeah.”

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