Tag: joni mitchell

3×3: Twisted Pine on Watching Movies, Getting Bugs, and Mixing Mayo

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Artist: Rachel Sumner (of Twisted Pine)
Hometown: Boston, MA
Latest Album: Twisted Pine
Personal Nicknames: Dan “Fireball” Bui, Chris “Moose” Sartori, KP, Rachel Slumber

 

Order up! Our album comes out in 3 days!!! There’s still time to pre-order — link in the bio!

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What song do you wish you had written?

“Temptation of Adam” by Josh Ritter

Who would be in your dream songwriter round?

Joanna Newsom, Anaïs Mitchell, Shara Nova, and Joni Mitchell. Holy smokes.

If you could only listen to one artist’s discography for the rest of your life, whose would you choose?

This is the toughest question! I’d probably go with the Beatles since their catalogue is so diverse. I’m never not in the mood for the Beatles.

How often do you do laundry?

As often as I can/need (two or three times a month?).

What was the last movie that you really loved?

I just watched the original Blade Runner and then had to watch the director’s cut immediately after. Annie Hall was reigning supreme before that.

If you could re-live one year of your life, which would it be and why?

Maybe summer 2009-2010. That was the summer I graduated high school and discovered Largo at the Cornet. I started going to the Watkins Family Hour every month, saw a bunch of my musical heroes in the flesh, and went to my first-ever festival. Guess you could say that was the year I caught the roots music bug!

 

We  @brooklynbowl and @thelovecanon!!

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What’s your go-to comfort food?

Quesadillas and fideo!

Kombucha — love it or hate it?

Love love love it.

Mustard or mayo?

Possibly unpopular opinion: I think they’re better together.

3×3: Dispatch on Postal Uniforms, Sourdough Bread, and the Joni Mitchell Catalog

Posted on by Amy Reitnouer

Artist: Chadwick Stokes (of Dispatch) 
Hometown: Boston, Denver, New York 
Latest Album: America, Location 12
Personal Nicknames:  Chetro/Chicoree, Braddigan/Brizzlebear

What song do you wish you had written?

“The Flesh Failures (Let the Sunshine In)”

Who would be in your dream songwriter round? 

Cat Stevens, Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Robert Hunter, Jimmy Cliff, Leonard Cohen, Nina Simone, Kurt Cobain, Shannon Hoon, John Lennon, Chuck D, Zack de la Rocha, Joe Strummer, Lead Belly, Shane McGowan 

If you could only listen to one artist’s discography for the rest of your life, whose would you choose?

Joni Mitchell 

How often do you do laundry?

I wear a postal uniform and it is made of magic government cloth that never needs washing.  

What was the last movie that you really loved?

The Pianist

If you could re-live one year of your life, which would it be and why?

Would it alter the time continuum? If it did, then I wouldn’t want to live any over again because I might not meet my wife. If it didn’t, I’d like to relive the year before I met my wife. 

 

To our beloved DISPATCH fans: Pete here. It is a genuine honor and pleasure to be part of the DISPATCH family – alongside @chadwickstokes and @bradcorrigan – and to feel your love and support from all the years. There is nothing quite like it. Last year, I was unable to join the European Tour. And I am realizing now that its likely I will not be able to join Chad and Brad on the road again this year. Like others you may know, I battle depression. In order to get better, this problem requires my complete focus and every bit of energy I can spare. Making the decision to take a leave-of-absence from the band has been hard. Yet, the extraordinary compassion, love and patience I feel from our close DISPATCH family… from Chad, Brad, Steve, Dalton, Sybil, and from my wife Katie, has now given me the strength to move ahead and the ability to come to this decision. In sharing my decision with you publicly for the first time, I feel a much needed sense of relief that will allow me to focus all of my energy on my healing. My entire family continues to offer their unconditional love and support as well. It is a tricky process to try to live and cope with any mental illness. The suffering and pain can sometimes be intense – and can come and go without warning. Yet the warmth from friends, family and fans has helped me to endure, to persevere – and mostly, to continue to have hope. So I will be taking some time off from the band now to try some new approaches and learn how to better manage my illness. I am grateful that I can share this personal piece of myself and what I am experiencing with all of you. My hope is that I will also get to share with you some of my successes as I travel what may be a rocky and sometimes uncertain path toward well-being. While I can’t tour with Chad and Brad right now, the good news is that I was able to work with them to record our latest album! I am SO proud of our work and can’t wait for all of you to hear it. THANK YOU again for all the LOVE you have already sent my way. It has truly been an awesome journey so far and I will continue every day to look forward to seeing you before too much longer. Your friend, @petefrancis3

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What’s your go-to comfort food?

Dandelion coffee alternative and sourdough bread.  

Kombucha — love it or hate it?

Love it! Made it here on the farm ’til my uncle John got sick.  

Mustard or mayo?

Peanut butter

Shrimp Quesadilla Pockets

Posted on by Editor

I think and talk a lot about the power of interpretation. When I left college to become a professional musician, one of the things I did to put food on the table was singing jingles and demos. With the jingles, I had to sell products — anything from clothing to Taco Bell. If I didn’t sound excited to be singing about those products, no one would have wanted to buy what I was selling. The same applied to the demo sessions I was a part of. I learned early on that my job wasn’t just to sing well; it was to help the songwriter properly translate their message. The more I did it, the deeper I delved into the lyrics I was singing, causing such a profound personal connection to the songs, making it feel like the stories were only mine to tell. I found the power of interpretation through music, then, and have continued to explore that power in other areas in my life ever since.

Two years ago, I did something that I’ve never done before: I sang songs written by other people and put them out on an album under my own name. Was it challenging? Yes. Not because I was too proud to sing someone else’s songs, but because I had so much respect for the artists who had released those songs in the first place. I wanted to honor their creativity and make sure that I wasn’t doing a disservice to the art itself. Now that I cook nearly as much as I sing, the same principles apply to the food I make.

There are so many cultures whose cuisines I admire. I cook a lot of food that is not from the culture I was born into or raised in. I used to be afraid to cook anything not American or Ghanaian, but then I began to get inside various, unique dishes and study them from the inside out. Once I realized what flavors and techniques make up a dish, as well as the love given to the food from the culture it came from, I gained the confidence to engage in the interpretation of those dishes and I’ve learned how to honor them in my own way. My fiancé, Sam, is originally from California. To him, Mexican cuisine is almost synonymous with comfort. I love Mexican food and I love Tex-Mex, as well. Tex-Mex is a direct interpretation. It is a cuisine brought to Texas by Mexican descendants that reinvents a traditional way of eating while remaining respectful of its origin.

This Autumn, I will have the honor of calling three children, ages 13 and under, my official bonus children. That’s so much cooler than saying “step children” — and they’re so much cooler than that, too. I cook for them often and they help me in the kitchen a lot, as well. Before I came along, my fiancé’s go-to dinner for the kiddos was often some kind of Mexican cuisine — tacos or quesadillas, usually. It’s one of the few things that certain little people I know will eat joyfully! Yet, being the cook that I am, I bore easily if I’m making the same thing the same way over and over again. I want to make my family’s bellies happy, but I also want to make my creative soul happy in the process.

This belly/soul happy recipe, Shrimp* Quesadilla Pockets, is an interpretation of a traditional one. A traditional quesadilla involves two tortillas filled with cheese, stacked on top of each other. When sliced, it’s reminiscent of a pizza to me. Although I very much like pizza and traditional quesadillas (and all of the yummy toppings that fall off or out of them when you pick them up), I needed to create an easy, pocket-sized version for quick pick-up-and-go meals. Call it my new mom short-cut. I’m learning! They store well and the filling doesn’t dry out because it’s not exposed and can be reheated in a flash.

Interpret away, people. It’s the stuff we’re made of. Take Herbie Hancock’s tribute album to Joni Mitchell, River: The Joni Letters, for instance. Put it on right now. Um, wow. Yeah, that’s some power right there.

SHRIMP* QUESADILLA POCKETS
*Omit shrimp for allergies, etc., and sub with any protein of choice

Ingredients

Serves 5 (2 each)
1/2 lb cooked shrimp, sliced in half lengthwise
1/8 tsp red pepper/chili flakes (or omit)
1 tsp smoked paprika
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp chili powder
1 tsp black pepper
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper (or omit)
1 tsp Worcestershire sauce
1 Tbsp lime juice**
2 cloves garlic, minced
Safflower or grape seed oil
10 soft, large, white tortillas
2 cups shredded pepper jack, monterey jack, or cheddar cheese
1 cup black beans, rinsed and drained
2 cups cooked white rice
Condiments of choice — salsa, sour cream, and limes for us.

**I forgot to grab the limes from my house when I came over to Sam’s to try this recipe out on him and the kids … but a bright young man of 11 pointed out that “maybe some lime” would have helped to make it brighter. Don’t forget the limes. Alfie’s orders.

Directions

Preheat your oven to 250° and place a sheet tray lined with parchment paper or foil inside of it. This is where you will keep the quesadillas warm while you’re making a stack of ’em.

Place shrimp and all the ingredients up to (but not including) the oil in a bowl and massage into shrimp and let sit in the fridge for 15 minutes.

Lay out tortillas and sprinkle ingredients lightly onto tortilla in a V shape (reference my tutorial photos) in the following order — cheese, two slices of shrimp in a vertical line, beans, rice, more cheese. Reference tutorial photos for folding.

Heat 1-2 Tbsp oil on medium heat (no higher!) in a non-stick pan. Place folded tortilla in pan, seam side down. Hold a spatula on top of each quesadilla pocket for a few seconds to ensure a proper seal. Check for brownness after one minute and flip when desired color is achieved. Repeat the last step to brown the other side.

Garnish with cilantro and dip in salsa or sour cream.

Tift Merritt, ‘Love Soldiers On’

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And then, with the scribble of a black pen, the world changed.

Last Friday, President Donald Trump signed away a future for thousands of immigrants and refugees hoping to make America their new home — a future that included a life in this country that, once upon a time, promised them open arms. In that moment — along with the prospect of ticking our clock back years for women’s reproductive rights, equality for our LGBTQ citizens, and progress in climate change, not to mention efforts to “clean up” the inner cities — life as usual felt almost impossible. And, for me, that means music: There’s not a moment of my daily being that doesn’t include a soundtrack, from wake to work to the minutes of pseudo-consciousness before I drift off to sleep. But Friday, I felt numb. It seemed nothing would match the mood of the morning. No morose melodies helped, no upbeat pop anthems soothed.

Then I tried “Love Soldiers On,” by Tift Merritt, off her newest LP, Stitch of the World. Many have pointed out the similarities between Merritt and Joni Mitchell, and it’s not wrong — but there’s just enough grit in Merritt’s voice to not gloss over the hard realities of our current world. I’m not one for blind optimism, but “Love Soldiers On” gives that glimmer of hope in a post-Hope era, waltzing delicately with a heart on the mend and a head adorned with a pink knit cap. There is a way to soldier on, but it does feel like a battle. So load up our packs with resistance, poster board, and comfortable shoes, and get ready to fight. Along the way, look for love. And don’t forget the music.

7 Americana Songs That Should Absolutely Not Be Covered By Anyone (Even Bob Dylan)

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We all know that feeling, the one we get when someone does a cover of one of our favorite songs. It's the same mix of excitement and fear we felt as teenagers, when we jumped into the back of Dad's Plymouth Reliant and started working on our 'Night Moves.' Will it be an ecstatic experience or will it completely suck? But just as there are people with whom we'd never endeavor to join in the back of that car, there are songs that are patently untouchable, recordings that should be left alone for posterity, never to be covered by anyone (even Bob Dylan). Here's a list of seven that are sacred.

"Wagon Wheel" — Old Crow Medicine Show

It’s not too farfetched to imagine that somewhere in this great musical land of ours some ‘record guy’ is hatching a plot to have Bob Dylan cover his own co-write, like some evil scientist plotting to destroy the North Carolina transit system. Don’t engage with the dark side, Bob. I gave you a pass on that semi-awful Frank Sinatra thing but, if you dare lay hands on this Americana classic (part owner though you may be), I’ll be compelled to give you a thorough tongue-lashing. Worse than I would’ve given Darius Rucker had I cared enough to talk about it. And don’t get me started on the other versions that are floating around from bands that ought to know better (but apparently don’t). Heck, there's even an entire website devoted to stopping the spread of "Wagon Wheel."

"La Cienega Just Smiled" — Ryan Adams

I have a 15-year old son who’s quite an accomplished musician, who does a pretty nice piano and vocal version of this song. But he’ll never record it or perform it in public, he says, “because the original version is perfect and I’ll never, ever come close.” Others should have such foresight. Out of the mouths of babes, as they say.

"Don’t Think About Her When You’re Trying To Drive" — Little Village

A good friend of mine, once the music editor of a hi-fi magazine, said the demise of Little Village came because there was no one in charge (so everyone thought he was in charge). I’m guessing that dogs like "Solar Sex Panel" had something to do with it, too. But tucked among the mutts was this Westminster Best In Show, a fervently heart-breaking ballad about being on the road to somewhere without someone. The arrangement is beautiful, the twanging Telecasters are glorious and drummer Jim Keltner has more taste in his left foot than most people have in their whole body.

"Quits" — Danny O’Keefe

“What will we call it now? It’s not a marriage anymore.” Seriously, I tear up every time I hear this song, probably the most heart-wrenching three minutes and nineteen seconds about divorce ever written. Weeping pedal steel, desolate strings, lonely harmonies (courtesy of Linda Ronstadt), lyrics that are hankie worthy, even for the toughest of tough guys. A couple of country dudes have covered this one and they're still meeting with their therapists to work through their guilt and shame.

"Windfall" — Son Volt

Quite possibly the greatest Americana song ever written, it’s hard to imagine why anyone would try to improve on this example of perfection. It’s all here: moaning vocals, steel guitars (settlin’ down), fabulous fiddles, all night radio stations, hands on the wheel, the wind in your face, troubles, troubles and more troubles at 134 beats per minute. I’ll give ‘Rusty Fender” a pass on his YouTube bass cover (Really? bass cover?) but that’s as far as my forgiveness will extend.

"Big Yellow Taxi" — Joni Mitchell

As much as my boy and I are pretty simpatico when it comes to music, I think about putting him up for adoption every time he cracks open Spotify and plays the isn't-he-cute boyfriend funk version of this song that Counting Crows massacred for the benefit of pop radio. The codpiece caterwaul of the emotive Mr. Durwitz that was somewhat charming when he was hanging with "Mr. Jones" just proves he has no clue what he's singing about. For God sakes, dude, the song isn't about the girl. It's about our collective loss of childhood innocence and appreciation that's leading us to destroy the planet. 

"Tenderness" — Paul Simon

There Goes Rhymin’ Simon was one of Paul Simon’s most popular records and "Tenderness" followed "Kodachrome" so, even by mistake, this song got played a lot back when vinyl and tape were all we had. And why wouldn’t it? It’s New Orleans blues meets New York folk in its finest form, perfectly framed by The Dixie Hummingbirds. And that’s why it should never be covered … ’cuz no one sings like those guys.

Squared Roots: Jane Siberry in Praise of Leonard Cohen

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True songwriting heroes are a rare breed and, in roots music, a few names take up more space than all the others combined — names like Hank Williams, Woody Guthrie, Townes Van Zandt, Dolly Parton, Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, and John Prine. For artists on the darker end of the spectrum, from Jeff Buckley to Amanda Shires, Leonard Cohen would also make that list, if not top it, because of how Cohen's incredibly mystical and oddly majestic way with a pen burrowed its way deep into the souls of his listeners. For proof of how the song is often bigger than the singer, look no further than the power and proliferation of "Hallelujah," his best-known composition which has been covered by dozens of singers over the past few decades. Tenderness and thoughtfulness pervade Cohen's work, winding their way around and through his sometimes eccentric, always captivating perspectives.

One of the singer/songwriters who came up in the wake of Cohen is Jane Siberry. A fellow Canadian, Siberry has also blazed her own artistic trail littered with mysticism. Reaching back to songs like "Bound by the Beauty," "Love Is Everything," and "Calling All Angels" all the way through to her latest release, Angels Bend Closer, Siberry never shies away from life's big questions and contemplations. Rather, like Cohen, she pours herself into them, exploring every nook and cranny through song and serving as a docent for those willing to follow.

As folks have reminisced about him since his passing, it seems like almost everyone has a Leonard-related tale to tell … either a personal encounter or a meaningful musical moment. You taught yourself guitar with his songs, right?

Yes. When I was 16, I moved away from home. I had played piano up til then. So I bought a cheap guitar and started learning from my sister's guitar songbooks. She had Leonard Cohen's, which had a very clear tablature. It even showed the rhythm of the finger-picking, which was fantastic and easy, so I learned to play his songs. The only songs I learned were from Songs of Leonard Cohen — “Sisters of Mercy” and “Suzanne” and all of those.

Did you have any interactions with him as you were coming up in music?

No, I didn't really. I just always really respected him, when I'd hear him speak in public. I think we met once or twice.

What do you think it was that made him not just so great, but also so special?

What's the difference?

Well, I think there are great artists, but there are also ones who are really special in terms of who they are and how they affect people. To me, it seems like many of the ones we've lost this year — David Bowie, Prince, Sharon Jones, and Leonard Cohen — they were all both great and special. And I think their passings have hit people especially hard. Does that make sense?

Yeah. I think it's pretty simple. It's not just about being great. We love them. We love ourselves through them.

In addition to both being Canadian, you are both more than just musicians. Authors, poets, performance artists … was he a bit of a role model for you?

I've never liked the term “performance artist,” but “entertainer” …

Got it.

A role model, as a musician, yes. I really thought he was underrated as a musician. I found his chord changes really beautiful and his phrasing beautiful. I think there's a similarity in what we draw from in the musical atmosphere, in that some people say he used a lot of “church chord changes.” That really isn't what it is. It's that there's a completion at the end of the song or at the end of choruses, like Irish folk songs. Like “The Water's Wide,” I think a lot of people would call it “churchy” in the way that the chorus lifts and the way you're allowed to draw out the end like a soft touch on a cheek when you say goodbye to someone.

There's also the similarity in that you both explore deeper emotional and spiritual themes in your songs. Neither of you are afraid of those. So, even a simple-sounding song isn't necessarily simple-minded. It feels like, to me, with both of you, that music is always sacred or has the potential to be. Is that maybe part of that church-sounding potential?

Most of the world, other than the First World, uses music as a way to pray. I think it's natural and organic. Drawn up from our primal selves. I consider music as one of the few ways to connect in a way that's meaningful to so many people. If it works on a lot of levels, it's generous and people can draw more from it — as much or as little as they want because it works on a lot of levels. To me, a good song should sound good, even if you don't know what it's about. It should feel good, whether it's the chording or the rhythm that you tap your fingers to. But, if you look deeper, it's also … I guess I'm saying that a song can be as rich as life is or humans are, if you want it to be. That's multi-purpose, so I guess that's why I said “generous,” if you're offering something in that way. I also consider humor as sacred. Those are the only two places where I go slightly bonkers. Humor and music are sacred to me.

Thinking of those layers of what a song can do … “Hallelujah” feels a perfect song. And not just due to its technical structure or melodic beauty, but also because it can be interpreted so differently depending on who is singing and who is listening.

Yeah. The first time I heard it, I loved that he was describing what he was doing musically — “the fourth, the fifth.” I thought, “Oh, yeah, that's how they do that. Amazing!” [Laughs] Then I started listening to the words … I remember being in Belfast and the opening guest was a choir from Belfast and they sang “Hallelujah.” They all had smiles on their faces. After I said, and I didn't mean to make people feel embarrassed, but I said, “That's the best version I've heard of a song about erotic requests and orgasm and its manifestation.” Because it is about that. And it's like, “WOW. You sing 'hallelujah' and it becomes” … [Laughs] He must have had a good laugh about that, too. Maybe people in the choir knew that and were having their own laugh about it, too. But it's very funny, I think, to hear a choir sing it with a smile on their face. [Laughs]

[Laughs] It was interesting to read up on the song. Different people who've done it have different interpretations of what it means to them. Jeff Buckley agrees with you, but k.d. lang has a slightly different take. But, I mean, he wrote more than 80 verses for the damn thing.

Did he?!

Yeah! Different people have picked different verses to sing and I think maybe the Jeff Buckley version has become a bit of a standard model.

That makes so much sense. I think that's the real way to operate as a musician. You offer different verses to different people and they make it their own. I think that's great. People get so precious about the right words. That's so cool.

I feel like your “Calling All Angels” is also a perfect song.

Someone took the publishing rights to “Suzanne,” so he never got money from it. But, later, his understanding was that that wasn't the kind of song he should ever benefit from monetarily. I see “Calling All Angels” the same way. But, every now and then, when it's in a film, I benefit from it, which I really like. [Laughs] But everything I make goes into more music.

I do feel like there's a constellation of musicians wherein our stars are a bit closer. And I feel that about me and Leonard Cohen and the people who influenced me when I was young, like Joni Mitchell and Neil Young — people I really trusted when they spoke to my 15-year-old ears. I trusted them. There was a connection.

I do connect with Leonard Cohen in that way. I know he talks about how everyone's “in service.” The first temptation is sort of getting the word “service” clear. It's not, “I'm gonna go out and fix the world.” It's more like, “I think I need to clean up my own backyard before I ever use the word 'service.'” I feel so lucky in my life. I always feel rich and that I need to give back. I want to spread the wealth, so to speak.

Jane Siberry photo by Sophia Canales. Leonard Cohen photo courtesy of the artist.

Squared Roots: Jonatha Brooke on the Rhythm and Groove of Joe Sample

Posted on by Editor

Music is full of innovators, some worthy of the word, some less so. Jazz pioneer Joe Sample certainly fits the former. Coming out of Houston, Texas, Sample's artistic roots ran deep and wide. And he wasn't afraid to let them reach into everything he did, blending blues, soul, gospel, and other forms into one. Sample started playing piano at the age of 5 and passed away, in 2014, at 75. In between, his main band project was the Crusaders, a jazz group based in Los Angeles, California, with which he crafted a lasting legacy before they (mostly) disbanded in 1987, despite a few reunion projects.

Jonatha Brooke, likewise, is an innovator within the folk-pop world that she has inhabited since her debut as half of the Story in 1991. Her literary lyrics and sophisticated harmonies somehow manage to both anchor and buoy the songs on the eight solo records she has released, including 2016's Midnight. Hallelujah. And then there are her deeply heartfelt musical theatre projects — one of which, Quadroon, was in development with Sample at the time of his death.

It makes sense to me why you'd pick Joe Sample because he's somebody who softens the complexity of jazz with the soulfulness of rootsier genres. From that perspective, I can totally hear his influence echoing through your work. Did I get that right?

Yeah. Yeah. I think that he, himself, would have said, in some ways, he had a real pop ear for melody. He was not trying to be complex or intellectual. He was just trying to write a great freaking melody. He just wanted to write a great song. He was passionate about it making a lot of sense. It's gotta feel like a complete idea: You state your theme and you have to make it musically make sense. It has to tell a story. There has to be an arc. He's a great storyteller, musically.

I get that. But, at least to my ear, jazz can't help but be a little bit complex. It's not just G-C-D — a three chords and the truth kind of thing.

No. It's so amazing how he voices his chords. They are richer than anything you've ever heard before. But it's deceptive with him. Some of his songs are absolutely simple, just three or four chords, but they're so rich in their embellishments and their harmonics, it gives you that extra bolt. Songs like “One Day I'll Fly Away,” “Street Life,” “When Your Life Was Low” … those are just beautiful, beautiful, classic, singable pop songs.

Again, I'm an absolute dummy about jazz, but I read up to learn that he and the Crusaders played hard bop, which is the bluesier cousin to bebop. School me on that.

[Laughs] Well, I'm gonna sound like an idiot …

Better you than me! [Laughs]

When Joe would tell stories about it … Full disclosure: My husband managed Joe for 35 years, so I got to get an earful, which was an amazing history of jazz and music. But he would always say that all the hard cats were in New York and the Crusaders were like, “Fuck this shit. Where's the melody? We're going to L.A.” [Laughs] And they did what they did, which was more melodic and less lanky, less intellectual and trying to impress people. They had soul. They wanted to keep that element in their approach to jazz.

There was a quote of his included in his New York Times obituary. It's perfect: “The jazz people hate the blues, the blues people hate rock, and the rock people hate jazz. But how can anyone hate music? We tend to not hate any form of music, so we blend it all together. And consequently, we’re always finding ourselves in big trouble with everybody.”

[Laughs] That's awesome! He used to tell this story on stage about this one Crusaders song, “Way Back Home.” Really simple song. Gorgeous, though. Simple, but make-you-cry beautiful. At one point, I guess it was on some kind of tape that the Symbionese Liberation Army was using for their brain-washing. So there were these pictures of Patty Hearst and this song in the background, so the FBI came after the Crusaders because they wanted to know what connection they had to Patty Hearst and the Symbionese Liberation Army. [Laughs] Then they would play the song and it's almost like a hymn, really. The irony was just crazy.

[Laughs] That's hilarious. So they would get in trouble even when they had nothing to do with anything!

Exactly! [Laughs] They just got in trouble.

Too funny. So he started out on acoustic piano, but later gravitated toward electric keyboards. That must've opened up a whole, huge world of creativity for him.

I think so. And the way he played those instruments is absolutely iconic — the way he played the Rhodes and the Wurli. He has one of the most sampled catalogs in the world. The irony is that his name is Sample. I don't know anyone whose riffs and grooves have been more sampled than Joe's. It's those groovy Crusaders Wurli and Rhodes parts that are central to that vibe he would create, that rhythm-and-groove vibe that people are still craving.

Then, as session guy, he played with Joni Mitchell, Marvin Gaye, Miles Davis, Tina Turner, B. B. King, Minnie Riperton, Eric Clapton, and …

Chaka Khan!

Chaka-Chaka-Chaka-Chaka Khan. Yeah. Then he was working with his Creole Joe Band playing zydeco at the end. What sort of skill does it take to be that versatile?

Oh my God. Ridiculous, super-human skills. You have to have that good of an ear that you're always absorbing and still making it your own and turning it into a signature sound. He had all of that. He had the technical skills. He could just blow. But, also, he was always really working on the composition. That was his first-and-foremost love: “How can I make this a beautiful composition? Where should it go? What story am I telling?”

And there's not a single artist that I saw listed that isn't overflowing with soul, themselves, no matter what genre they're in. So, if they're calling on him, there has to be a kindred spirit there.

Yeah. And he would bring so much to the table. I'm surprised … well, I'm not surprised at all … but, often, I would imagine, he should've been a co-writer on many of those sessions because he was bringing it — bringing the groove, bringing the riff that created the song. But those were the days when session cats were just session cats.

Speaking of co-writers … perfect segue … Quadroon. Talk to me about that.

[Laughs] That's a really cool project. It's just devastating that he's not here to finish it. It's a beautiful, large, passionate story. It was his idea to write about this nun who lived in New Orleans in the 1830s. Her name was Henriette Delille and, in real life, she's in line for canonization at the Vatican. She was Creole, so she could pass for white. And, at that time, if you were in that category, you could become a quadroon — you could marry a wealthy, white merchant. Her mother was married to a French merchant. She was his second wife. She was the kept mistress wife of this very wealthy merchant. In some ways, in that time, it was a better option than trying to make it on your own.

Henriette's mom wanted her to go into this line of life called plaçage, but Henriette wanted to be a nun. She wanted to serve God. That was all she wanted, ever, from the time she was small. So, she bucked the system and ended up befriending this French priest. This is all true. And this French priest helped her with her ministry, got her recognized as a nun by the Vatican before she died. She ended up starting an orphanage. She had her own ministries. And she had these schools for poor Black kids and Joe ended up going to the schools that her sisters and followers still run in the Houston area — New Orleans and Houston.

Joe grew up hearing stories about Henriette Delille his whole life and, after he moved back to Houston a few years ago, he decided to research the story and talk to the nuns who were still in New Orleans. They gave him their blessing to write something about this amazing woman. So that's what we've been working on. It's called Quadroon. I think we wrote 20 songs before he passed away and we were able to do a small reading in Houston at the Ensemble Theatre before he died.

That's great. So you're gonna keep pushing forward?

I'm gonna keep pushing. I'm pushing on.

Since you did get to spend a good bit of time with him, what's either the lesson that's stayed with you or the impression of him that lingers for you. Linger … you see what I just did there?

HA! I see what you did there! [Laughs] I think it's that he never tired of creating music. He was really prolific. He always had a new idea. And he wasn't afraid of sucking. [Laughs] He didn't edit himself before it was time. He just let ideas flow. I'm left with memo recorders of hundreds of snippets of ideas that I can still work with. But he just kept writing stuff. That's my biggest inspiration. He was tireless. And he never repeated himself, too. His last record is called Children of the Sun with the NDR Bigband orchestra. It's a masterpiece. It should be an Alvin Ailey ballet. And then the Creole Joe band. And the musical. He was just incredible and I take such inspiration from him because he was 75 and still pumping out ideas!

Photos courtesy of the artists.

Just How It Is: An Interview with Courtney Marie Andrews

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At 25, Courtney Marie Andrews is already a hardened industry veteran at a point when many artists are just getting started. The Arizona native began writing songs and touring in her teens and has barely stopped since. In addition to amassing a catalog of five albums and a few EPs, she has recorded with Jimmy Eat World and Damien Jurado, toured with Belgian pop star Milow, and sung back-up for more than 40 artists.

So you believe her when, early on her sixth and best album, she declares, “This ain’t no rookie dreaming.” As impressive as that C.V. might be, it doesn’t even begin to hint at the maturity, the resourcefulness, and the hard-earned wisdom of Honest Life. It’s a stirring amalgam of folk, country, and rock, calling to mind Joni Mitchell and Van Morrison, but her songwriting is so personal and so self-possessed that it dispels such easy comparisons. Perhaps the greatest lesson Andrews has learned on the road is to sound like no one other than herself. It’s such a startling work of maturity — so far removed from her previous work — that it almost sounds like a first album.

Maybe that’s why it took her so long to make the record. Andrews penned half the record in Belgium and the other half in Duvall, Washington, where she waitressed at a small tavern and wrote lyrics between shifts. She assembled some talented friends into a makeshift backing band and produced the album herself. She shopped it around to labels, which either demanded changes to the production or couldn’t figure out how to sell it: Was it folk? Country? Indie rock?

It’s a situation that so many artists have found themselves mired in (most recently, Margo Price), but Andrews stuck to her guns, signed with small labels in the U.S. (Mama Bird Recording Co.) and Europe (Loose Music), and released the record on her own terms. Honest Life sounds like both the best sixth album and the best debut of the year. And, of course, it’s already taken her back out on the road.

What led you to settle in Washington State?

I started touring when I was really young. I did my first tour when I was 16, and I started out doing West Coast tours, where I would go to Seattle and come down through Idaho and Utah. When I was in Arizona, the Northwest seemed like the most different place you could go to, if you were from the Southwest like me. I gravitated to it originally for those reasons. I love change and I love to put myself in situations that aren’t normal to me because it helps me grow as a person. I just moved there because it felt completely different than the Southwest, and then I ended up playing around Seattle for some time.

I don’t intend to live there forever. Eventually, I’m going to make my way down to L.A., but I do think the Northwest has definitely influenced my writing. I was living in a very rural town called Duvall, and I lived way out in the woods, about seven miles from town.

Were you writing these songs while bartending?

I was going through a breakup in Belgium when I wrote about half the songs. When I got back to the States, I wanted the most normal job to support myself while I wasn’t touring. So I started bartending in Duvall, and those people’s stories resonated with me quite a bit. They’re all so different from me. They’re very much small-town folks, in the sense that a lot of them have lived in that valley their entire lives. I’ve been all over the world and felt like I was just passing through, but their stories definitely resonated with me. I think that’s why I loved bartending. People will always tell you a story.

It definitely seems like a very social occupation. Waiters can always excuse themselves to check on other tables, but bartenders are stuck at the bar.

Exactly. You’re stuck with those people at the bar. Fortunately, I did a lot of serving, too, so I got to walk around a bit. It definitely cultivated a feeling that I tried to capture in the songs — me as the constant, moving catalyst coming through this town and realizing that sometimes home feels better than the road.

But I’ll be the first one to tell you that, after six months of bartending, I was ready to be back on the road. I like to complain about it, but it’s where I belong. I don’t actually complain too much about it. I love playing. There are just times when you’re far away for five months and you haven’t seen your friends and family. You start thinking, "Oh man, what am I doing here again?" But I’m definitely at home on the road. I just can’t get enough of it. It’s ingrained in me, at this point.

One of the things that impressed me about this record is that you can sing about touring and traveling without it sounding like insider baseball. It’s something anybody can relate to.

I was thinking about this songwriting trope that I’ve heard before, in particular, with political songwriters. The reason Bob Dylan was able to write so many great political songs is because he never put dates on them. You can listen to them now and the ideas still apply to what’s going on today. I feel like that’s what I’m trying to do when I’m writing songs, whether it’s about traveling or whatever. I want to makes it so there’s not a date or a stamp on it. You can listen to it whether you’re a touring musician or not.

These are obviously very personal songs, but to what degree are they autobiographical?

There are definitely elements. A lot of them are very personal just because of what I was going through when I was writing them. But I definitely put other people’s stories in there. The song “Irene” was one I wrote for a friend, but I look back on it and wow, I was writing it for myself, too. I think that goes for a lot of my songs. There are little truths about me and reflections of other people that I know.

I would have guessed that “Irene” was a bartending song. It struck me as something a bartender might say to a patron.

That’s funny. Actually, “How Quickly Your Heart Mends” was written about a woman at my bar. When you’re bartending, you get the people who are drinking too much. My dad liked to call them flippers. People would flip when they had a few beers. There was a woman going through a breakup, and it made sense to write that song. It’s just a small town and the song is about being heartbroken in a small town and how isolating that can be.

What is it like to live with these very personal songs that have such a strong emotional component to them?

The songs still resonate with me, but not in a sad way, I don’t think. I know a lot of people find this record to be sad, but that’s not what I intended it to be. If anything, I intended it to be hopeful. To me, it’s about growing up and becoming the person that you set out to be. It’s about hard truths. When you’re a kid, you think everything will be set in place when you’re 25 or 26. But when you get to that age, you realize that’s not how it goes and you can be okay with that. So when I play these songs, I don’t feel sadness. I feel like they’re very much a part of me — probably the most honest songs I’ve ever written.

I do find some solace and comfort in them. When I first write a song, there’s a period of about six months to a year when I still feel exactly like that. But after a while, I start to feel like I’m just the speaker — I’m just relaying a story to somebody. I try to be in the moment and be present with the words that I’m singing, but it’s more that I’m relaying the story to somebody. It may not be my story anymore. Now it’s their story.

It sounds like you’re using the song for what you need and then passing it along to your audience.

Yes. I think, in a way, that’s the tradition of folk music. The songs are for the people. You sing it and then pass it along. “Red River Valley” doesn’t have a writer. Nobody knows who wrote it. That’s how we pass it along to somebody else. I’ve actually met and played with people who can’t sing their own songs because they connect with them too much and it hurts to sing them.

I don’t know that I’ve ever looked at it like that. I don’t mind revisiting songs, although I guess I could change my mind in five years. There are definitely some older songs that I never want to play again, although the reason I wouldn’t sing them is because I don’t like the way I wrote a line: "That line is terrible! Why did I write that? I could write it so much better now."

So it’s not so much that you outgrow a song emotionally, you outgrow it technically.

Totally. Maybe that’s why I think I became my truest writer on this record. I feel like I finally learned how to write. I don’t know. I’ve always loved writing. I’m proud of my writing, although I’d never want to be cocky about it. It’s hard when you start so young, because you’re passionate and you’re going to release everything that you’ve ever written. But I don’t think I was fully developed, when I first started writing songs. Some people who like my music might disagree, but I don’t think I was quite there yet. So, the past two years, I feel like I’ve been coming into my own.

What led you to produce this album yourself?

It was probably too much pride! I love having producers. It’s such a beautiful thing to be able to work with somebody else. I’ll start by saying that. I’ve done it in the past and I’ll do it in the future. That’s important to grow and change. But for this record, I just wasn’t connecting with anybody I sent the songs to. People were like, "Let’s put synths on it and make it an over-produced pop record." Or they were like, "I need to write a line in this song so I can get a songwriting credit and more money." I got this sick feeling in my stomach. These people just didn’t get it. They didn’t get my songs. I’m not going to enter a relationship with somebody who doesn’t get me. So I just booked some time in a studio, got all my friends in Seattle to rehearse the songs for a month straight, then we worked out all the kinks, went into the studio, and recorded it. I don’t think, in any way, about how modern or cool the production was. It was more about the songs.

Were you nervous about taking on that responsibility?

In the beginning I was, because the music industry tells you that you have to have the best producer and you have to have that producer stamp. There are all these standards that people are constantly whispering in your ear. I guess I’ve gotten to the point where I just don’t care. I’m going to make the record that I want to make, even if I’m just working at the bar for another 20 years. It’s way more important for me to make what I want to make. I will work with a great producer someday, but this wasn’t the record for it. This was just me and my friends making a record.

Did that make it harder to shop to labels?

Shopping the record took way longer than finding a producer, but the funny thing is, everybody who couldn’t work with me just kept listening to the record. That’s what messed with my head the most. They would tell me they loved the record and had been spinning it in the office. They said they were always listening to it. I got these long emails from people about the record, but they didn’t want to take a chance on it. They liked it, but when money comes into play, it becomes a big what-if. I get that. But I ended up going with two really great labels that loved the record from the start, which was a great feeling. It’s more important to go with the people you don’t have to convince. So I feel like it’s had a positive reception. I feel like it’s found its place.

You mentioned that you thought people heard the album as sad. To me, it almost sounds like it’s telling a story that starts out as sad but ends up in another place. Was that something you were thinking about when you were recording?

Definitely. This album is about accepting life’s circumstances. That’s what I was going through at the time. Everybody has gone through that stage when they realize that their life isn’t what they intended. So yeah, the sequencing is important. It starts with “Rookie Dreaming,” where I’m on the train and having that first realization that it’s harder than I thought. This isn’t a rookie dreaming. It’s something more than that. This is prime time. And then the album ends with “Only in My Mind,” which is sort of the same sentiment, but maybe that of a more mature person. Only in my mind did I assume these things had actually happened.

I just had a thought regarding the sad songs: The difference in this record and the things I’ve written in the past as a younger, more angst-ridden person is that now, when I write a sad song, I’m not asking anybody to feel bad for me. When I was younger, it would be like, "Oh pity me. This is how I feel and you should feel it, too." Now it’s more like, "This is just how it is. This is just life." This record doesn’t ask the audience to feel bad.

That’s an interesting distinction to make.

I feel like every songwriter is guilty of writing a few songs like that. When you’re younger, you just think the world is against you. The world hates you. But when you grow up, you realize that the world doesn’t care about you. That sounds harsh.

Maybe, but it also means that, whatever you’re going through, other people have been through it, too. Your pain isn’t special, which can actually be comforting and relatable.

And that’s what music is for — to make people not feel as alone in this crazy-ass world.

 

For more on young, '70s-inspired singer/songwriters, read our interview with Andrew Combs.

Photo credit: Susy Sundborg

MIXTAPE: The Bills’ Canadian Roots

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Asking the five of us Bills to agree on which tunes we'd put on a Canadiana folk/roots Mixtape was brilliant fodder for heated tour van debate. We're an opinionated bunch and we think Canada quite simply offers up enough amazing material to fill 15-20 Mixtapes, so this was a tall order that we dove into with happy enthusiasm. The Bills have always been inspired by a broad range of international musical flavours, but we're fundamentally grounded in our homeland's deep and diverse folk/roots traditions and modern talents. You'll hear nods to all kinds of these different influences on our latest disc, Trail of Tales.

We narrowed down our Mixtape picks, but it wasn't easy! Here are some Canadian favourites for your listening pleasure:

David Francey — "Red Winged Blackbird"
We met David for the first time at the Jasper Folk Festival in 2001. We'd never heard of him, and he'd never heard of us. We were both new on the folk scene, having come from somewhat different directions, but there was an immediate kinship. Somehow his first album, Torn Screen Door, became a part of our sonic fibre. He is as good a person, and as good a folk music craftsperson, as they come.

Coeur de Pirate — "Berceuse"
Béatrice Martin, otherwise known as Coeur de Pirate, is an insanely talented Québécois and Canadian treasure. This song shows at her boiled-down best, with some classic francophone sounds in 3/4 time. Wow.

Stan Rogers — "The Mary Ellen Carter"
What more can you say? Stan. He set the standard for folk writing and performance in Canada. Gone too soon, but what a wealth he left for us all. "The Mary Ellen Carter" lays it down, as heavy as it gets.

Jim Bryson — "Oregon" (with Oh Susanna)
Jim is one of Canada's secret weapons. He wrote, produced, and performed on this lovely song with the incomparable Oh Susanna for her album Namedropper. You'll be so into Jim (and Suzie!) after you hear this.

Ed McCurdy — "Last Night I Had the Strangest Dream"
Try not to be deeply moved by this classic of classics. (Okay, okay, Ed was born in Pennsylvania, but he married a Canadian and ended up a CBC broadcaster in Vancouver!) As best we know, he wrote "Strangest Dream" in 1950. Everyone has covered it, and it has the best qualities a folk song can have: simple, beautiful, poignant, profound. As important now as it was nearly 70 years ago.

Bim (Roy Forbes) — "Tender Lullaby"
I (Chris Frye of the Bills) grew up with Bim as a part of my family circle. These early Bim songs were the soundtrack of my childhood. Someday I hope to record an album of these beautiful, rocking, truly northern Canadian classics.

Sam Roberts — "Canadian Dream"
Following in a long tradition of incredible writer/rockers from the Great White North, Sam and his band from Montreal are simply irresistible. This tune has so many great lines that maybe only a Canadian can truly relate to: "Everything moves real slow when it's 40 below."

Wilf Carter — "My Old Canadian Home"
Wilf. He did it all. He was the cowboy hero everywhere. A yodeler extraordinaire and even a double agent — they called him "Montana Slim" Stateside! In this, one of his scratchy vinyl classics, he gets about as patriotic Canadian as you'll ever hear any of us get.

Joni Mitchell — "A Case of You"
She stands alone at the top of the mountain. Glorious, untouchable Joni. "…and still be on my feet" … we all still bow and weep in awe.

Steve Dawson — "Tractor Part" (with Zubot and Dawson)
Steve is a purist and an adventurer at the same time. The Bills like to think of ourselves as having that same spirit — rooted in the traditions, but always seeking to bust down barriers and make whatever music we want to explore. Steve has always done that, and this tune is one that helped make his name.

Alan Doyle and the Beautiful Gypsies — "1,2,3,4"
Alan has always inspired with his powerful voice and stage presence. Try and sit still as he and his band of Beautiful Gypsies rip through this one!

Oliver Schroer — "Horseshoes and Rainbows" from the album Jigzup (1993)
An extremely influential tune from a truly innovative Canadian fiddler. You'll hear young folks from coast to coast jamming on this melody, and the recorded version exemplifies Oliver's ability to create layered soundscapes outside the normal bounds. ᐧ

Courtney Marie Andrews, ‘Irene’

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Just like many male folk troubadours who have to constantly endure the sometimes simpleton logic of being compared to Bob Dylan — should they dare to play acoustic guitar and maybe wear denim — women who do the same are equally reduced to being Joni Mitchell wannabes, often before anyone actually listens to their songs (and especially if they have bangs). For most artists, this is a destructive move: one, because few can actually live up to those touch points, and two, both singers have such idiosyncratic fingerprints that it can only steer people into disappointment … like biting into something you're told tastes like a marshmallow only to encounter savory, not sweet.

But for singer/songwriter Courtney Marie Andrews, the Joni Mitchell comparison is not an unjust leap — she evokes the legend without being completely derivative, and with a little more swing in her step. After years touring as a guitarist and background vocalist for artists like Damien Jurado, Andrews decamped to a small Washington State town to focus on the words and melodies that would become Honest Life, her excellent forthcoming LP, due August 19. "Irene," one of the album's punchiest standout tracks, conjures Mitchell not just in particular voice breaks or sonic choices, but in how Andrews choses subject matter: About a good woman who is a magnet for bad decisions, it's an observational tale in an all-about-my-selfie generation. Full of swinging riffs and piano vamps that fling the lyrics out with clever force, it shows that folk music can be equally savory and sweet.