Tag: joni mitchell

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

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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.

3×3: Max Jury on Michael Jordan, Joni Mitchell, and a Healthy Respect for Tacos

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Artist: Max Jury
Hometown: Des Moines, IA
Latest Album: Max Jury (Out June 3)
Personal Nicknames: MJ. A) Those are my initials B) It helps me pretend I'm Michael Jordan playing for the bulls '96-'97.

If you had to live the life of a character in a song, which song would you choose?
I'd love to live inside the album Hejira by Joni Mitchell. She went on a road trip across America (which she took all by herself) and stayed in random hotels and what not along the way. I'd really like to do something like that — I'm sure I could learn a lot about myself.

Where would you most like to live or visit that you haven't yet?
Japan! I'm really interested in visiting places outside of Western culture and I think Japan would just be so cool. The food, the nightlife, the art … everything. That's definitely on my bucket list.

What was the last thing that made you really mad?
I'm always losing things … even when I make an effort to keep a tab on them — sunglasses, wallets, lighters, clothes — it's very frustrating … but my own fault.

 

#tbt the matching tour – somewhere in Ireland with Bobby, King of Boys Town

A photo posted by Max Jury (@maxwelljury) on

What's the best concert you've ever attended?
I saw the band Low play in a cemetery once, and that was real special albeit in a pretty morbid, dark way. I remember I went with my girlfriend at the time, and we were sitting amongst the headstones. Pretty creepy cool and, in a way, fitting for their music.

What was your favorite grade in school?
Sophomore year of high school … I was able to drive, made some new friends, started thinking about what I wanted out of life … It was a coming of age year for me .

What are you reading right now?
Love Is a Dog from Hell: Charles Bukowski. It's a collection of his poems for the 1970s, I think. I love his voice as a writer and particularly the way he writes about love. It's never sappy or overly sentimental, but can still knock the wind out of me.

 

A rare look at 2011 through the eyes of #crema at #53 it was a simpler time – before my meme addiction

A photo posted by Max Jury (@maxwelljury) on

Whiskey, water, or wine?
At a different time in my life, I would have asked, "Any chance I could grab a whiskey and a wine?" But now I'm all about water.

North or South?
I'm an Iowa boy, so I'm going to say North. But my best friend lives in Chapel Hill and, whenever I go down and visit I find it pretty impossible to leave for a whole host of reasons — but, mostly, palmetto cheese.

Pizza or tacos?
Pizza. Not a huge taco guy. No disrespect to tacos, though.

Photo credit: Christophe Rihet

3×3: Winterpills on Elton John, E-Minor Drones, and a Love of Two Amys

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Artist: Philip Price (of Winterpills)
Hometown: Northampton, MA
Latest Album: Love Songs 
Personal Nicknames: Cranky

 

My favorite news is about things that don't happen.

A photo posted by @winterpills on

What was the first record you ever bought with your own money?
Elton John, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

How many unread emails or texts currently fill your inbox?
18,204

If your life were a movie, which songs would be on the soundtrack?
No songs, just an E-minor drone.

 

one template

A photo posted by @winterpills on

What brand of jeans do you wear?
Target

What's your go-to karaoke tune?
"Life on Mars" by David Bowie

If you were a liquor, what would you be?
Bloody Mary with extra tabasco and olives.

 

a double-yolker!

A photo posted by @winterpills on

Poehler or Schumer?
Both. Come on, don't do this!

Chocolate or vanilla?
Vanilla. But this only applies to me.

Blues or bluegrass?
Neither. Blue by Joni Mitchell.

The Taxman Cometh: 9 Songs to Get You Through Tax Day

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April 15. Unless you're an accountant or you're owed a big ol' refund, this day probably strikes a unique fear in your heart, one fueled by nightmares of endless paperwork and a Kafka-esque string of TurboTax questions that have you — if you're like me — so flustered you forget your own address. Although this year's tax day is actually April 18, we decided to go ahead and share a handful of our favorite tax-related tunes with you. Whether you're already crying over your return or you're dreading Sunday night's cram session, these nine tracks should hopefully ease a little pain. 

Don't like videos? Listen to the whole thing (with the Beatles' take on "Taxman" instead) on Spotify.

Nickel Creek, "Taxman"

We're all for the Beatles' original version, but who doesn't love Nickel Creek's acoustic take — this live one in particular — on the Fab Four's classic? 

Johnny Cash, "After Taxes"

His last name may be Cash, but that doesn't mean Johnny has money to spare (even though, let's be real, his estate totally does). This song from Cash's 1978 album, I Would Like to See You Again, laments all one loses in the name of Uncle Sam, including a "brand new Pontiac" and "a bracelet for her arm."

Joni Mitchell, "Tax Free"

Off 1985's Dog Eat Dog, "Tax Free" is more political than it is about actual taxes, but that refrain ("tax free") is undoubtedly something we'd all like to be.

Johnny Paycheck, "Me and the IRS"

"Well the bite keeps a-getting bigger and the pay check’s a-getting small / You know the IRS ain’t gonna rest until they think they’ve got it all." We feel ya, Johnny. We feel ya.

Ry Cooder, "Taxes on the Farmer Feeds Us All" 

A 1972 Ry Cooder cut reminds us that, while the merchants may make all the cash, it's the farmers who get us good and fed at the end of the day.

Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings, "What If We All Stopped Paying Taxes?"

But really … what if we did?!

Kaiser Clifton, "Cash Money Blues"

The title says it all: Who hasn't suffered from the "Cash Money Blues," especially this time of year?

The Gourds, "Gin and Juice"

Because, let's face it, right now your mind is on your money and your money is definitely on your mind.

Old Crow Medicine Show, "Poor Man"

Commiserate with Old Crow Medicine Show after you get up the nerve to mail off that big check.

Lede photo: 401(K) 2013 via Foter.com / CC BY-SA

3×3: Elephant Revival on Colorado, Karaoke, and What They Almost Named the Band

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Artist: Elephant Revival
Hometown: Nederland, Lyons, & Boulder, CO
Latest Album: Sands of Now
Rejected Band Names: It’z Evolving, Rippin’ Britches 🙂

 

Thanks to @onthedlphoto for this great shot of our set at Red Rocks!

A photo posted by @elephantrevival on

What was the first record you ever bought with your own money?
Dango: Guns n’ Roses – Appetite for Destruction
Daniel: Bob Dylan – Live at Carnegie Hall
Bridget: Foo Fighters (self-titled)

If money were no object, where would you live and what would you do?
Dango: I’m very content living where I do and playing with Elephant Revival. Nederland is very beautiful, and it's a unique community full of interesting people. That said, I love the Oregon coast and Brevard, NC. Not to mention, many places overseas I have yet to be — such as the Isle of Skye.
Daniel: There are so many places I have yet to go, so in my finite knowledge, I’d probably buy some land in Colorado and buy a bunch of solar panels and a Tesla battery. Then I’d build a monolithic dome and a separate music studio and have it all be powered by the sun. I’d invest in an organic heirloom seed bank, buy some chickens and goats, and hire some friends to help grow some food.
Bridget: I would live in the mountains just outside of Boulder, up high and near the river. I would play music locally and teach kids for free!

If your life were a movie, which songs would be on the soundtrack?
Dango: I’d create a mix-tape of Penguin Café Orchestra, Balmorhea, and Michael Nyman.
Daniel: "Tangled Up in Blue" and "The Times They Are a Changin’" by Bob Dylan, "Girl in the War" by Josh Ritter, "Born at the Right Time" and "You’re the One" by Paul Simon, "Hold On" by Tom Waits
Bridget: All the music of Béla Fleck, "Ripple" by the Grateful Dead, anything off Blue by Joni Mitchell

What brand of jeans do you wear?
Dango: Levi’s
Daniel: I have two pairs of jeans — Levi's and Kenneth Cole.
Bridget: I hardly ever wear jeans, but when I do, they are stretchy.

What's your go-to karaoke tune?
Dango: Don't do Karaoke
Daniel: "Redemption Song"
Bridget: "Stay" by Lisa Loeb

What's your favorite season?
Autumn

Kimmel or Fallon?
Yes & Colbert

Jason Isbell or Sturgill Simpson?
Both of them passing songs around the fire

Chocolate or vanilla?
Dango: Swirl
Daniel: Chocolate
Bridget: Chocolate

Photo credit: Angie Barnes

Squared Roots: Jill Andrews on the Heart and Mind of Joni Mitchell

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Pretty much every singer/songwriter today counts Joni Mitchell among their heroes. If they don't, they should. From her 1968 debut to her 2007 finale, Mitchell's talent has been both steadfast and elusive — remaining constant even as it evolved. Her early records (Blue, Clouds, Ladies of the Canyon, Court & Spark) showcased a craft so fully formed and so emotionally mature that they continue to stand as high marks in her career … if not in music as a whole.

By the mid-'70s, Mitchell needed more than acoustic music could offer and she branched out into jazz alongside Charles Mingus, Jaco Pastorius, Wayne Shorter, and other legends of the form. Having issued 10 studio albums in 11 years, Mitchell's output slowed in the '80s and '90s, with only six releases spread across those 20 years, including the Grammy-winning Turbulent Indigo in 1994. At the turn of the century, Mitchell won another Grammy for Both Sides Now, the concept album that follows the arc of a relationship as told through jazz songs performed by Mitchell with an orchestra. Two years later, Travelogue paired her own songs with an orchestra and, in 2007, Shine shone as her last-released collection of original material prior to her retirement from music.

As one of the singer/songwriters who count Mitchell as a hero, Jill Andrews found inspiration in her early acoustic albums. That influence wasn't exactly obvious on Andrews' first band project, the everybodyfields, or even on her solo sets, including her latest release, The War Inside. But it's in there, in her DNA, just as it is in all the other singer/songwriters who have come along over the past 45 years.

So that I know who I'm dealing with here … what's your favorite Joni record? This is going to determine a lot.

Blue. I feel like that's the most obvious one, but … There are several that I hadn't really listened to, so I've been listening to them. And, still, that's my favorite … by far, I would say. But I think Ladies of the Canyon is really good, too. What about you?

Early on, in my early 20s, I was all about Clouds . I mean, Blue is fantastic. No question. But, like you said, it's the obvious one. Then Court & Spark got me, particularly after … I'm guessing you've seen the wonderful documentary about her on Netflix.

No, I haven't, actually.

Oh my goodness. It's called Woman of Heart and Mind. I watched that a couple of years ago and listened to Court & Spark for about two weeks straight … nothing else.

Oh, nice! Is it a documentary about her whole life of just that era?

Her whole life. What's fascinating to me about her is that the music industry never knew quite what to do with her … and that's true of most artists who color outside the lines. It's amazing that their art ever gets documented and distributed.

Yeah. And she did so well, record sale-wise, for a really long time. The ones, to me, that weren't the most obvious still sold so well. And it's interesting to think that, if she were trying to do what she did in the '70s now, I wonder how different of an experience that would be for her.

Starting in 1968, when she was 24, she made nine albums in 11 years.

That is insane!

Clouds at 25 and Blue at 27. Today, artists that age are sitting naked on wrecking balls to get attention.

When you think about that, that is so true! [Laughs] Have you seen the live BBC videos she did in 1970?

Yeah, some of them.

She's wearing this pink dress and her skin is the most flawless skin I've ever seen in my life. I can't even believe how flawless it is. You know there was nothing making her look better, except maybe a little makeup … but she barely had any makeup on. She was just singing and playing guitar. She didn't need a single other thing. It was just her doing that and it was so good. It was songs from Ladies of the Canyon and some songs from Blue. It's just so simple.

It's tempting to wonder where the Joni Mitchell of this or that generation is, but really, the original is perfect and timeless. Do we need another one?

I mean … not really, but at the same time … I'm interested in the simplicity of all of that. It's actually caused me to think a lot because I've been thinking about what my next record is going to be. I'm so over the moon about this new one that came out, but I finished it a while back, so I've been thinking about my next one for a while. I've been working on a couple of things at home and a lot of it is pretty simple … a lot of my vocals stacked up, one on top of another, used as another instrument. I don't know … it's not necessarily as simplistic as just a guitar and vocal, but it's definitely more simple for me.

Well, the setting that she used was simple, but her phrasing, melodies, lyrics … all of that was very complex. That kind of talent can't really be learned, but have you spent time really studying the craft of her songs?

In high school, I definitely listened to a lot of her stuff. That was before I was a musician, really. I didn't play an instrument. I remember, specifically, when I was dreaming about being a musician, that I wanted to be like her. The reason I wanted to be like her was that I wanted to be able to play an instrument really well. I wanted to be able to sing really well. And I wanted to be able to write my own songs. That was the triad for me.

So you might as well aim for the absolute highest! [Laughs]

[Laughs] Yeah. Exactly. I guess I haven't really studied her craft, necessarily. But I have listened to her stuff a lot and just been a big fan. Her lyrics are so interesting. In general, they're all slice-of-life lyrics. You can see her in the story, almost every time — standing on a street corner in “For Free.” You can see her in so many of the songs. I just love that. The imagery is so beautiful.

Not that she ever made pure folk music, but that's just too small of a genre to contain her, so it's no wonder she gravitated toward the complexity of jazz. Are you a fan of that phase, as well?

I've listened to some of that stuff, but I wasn't as drawn to it, to be honest. I've listened to Court & Spark. I've listened to Hissing of Summer Lawns. I wasn't particularly drawn to either of those records, but I do really like Hejira.

Interesting …

Yeah. I don't know what it is. I think the melodies drew me in more, on Hejira. I love “Coyote” so much. That song is amazing.

Undercover Angel: An Interview with Shawn Colvin

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Perhaps inspired by “Tiny Dancer,” Shawn Colvin originally wanted to be the seamstress for the band … not the leader of it. But she eventually got out front and sang a bunch of cover tunes until she found her own voice as a songwriter. Several decades later — and amidst six albums of originals — Colvin has never abandoned her love of the cover and has just released her second batch of interpretations, Uncovered. On it, she turns to some of her very favorite writers — Bruce Springsteen, Tom Waits, Paul Simon, Neil Finn, and Stevie Wonder. As disparate as the originals may be, Colvin's tender touch turns them into a cohesive collection as she steps effortlessly into the songs, making them as much her own as any cover artist can.

I've waited a long time to discuss this with you: You were part of one of the best moments of my life. After one of your shows at McCabe's in 1991, Susanna Hoffs and I — along with a few other friends — went upstairs to say hi to you. And you were sitting there …

Was that when Joni [Mitchell] was there? Yeah, I remember that.

Yeah. It was Joni, and Larry Klein and David Baerwald. They split off to play guitars. But we just sat at Joni's feet as she told us stories and sang us songs. It was amazing.

I know. That was a great night. I have photos from that night.

Do you?

Yeah.

Oh wow. I remember we were sitting on the floor and you elbowed me, at one point, and mouthed something like, “Can you believe this?” But what you didn't realize was that you were part of the awe, as well, because we were all so in love with Steady On. It was like, “Holy crap, we're sitting here with Shawn and Joni?!”

Aw. No. I didn't know that. [Laughs] That was a pretty big deal for me, too.

Have you ever covered one of her songs … other than at that tribute concert so many years back?

Many times in my former life as being a bar singer, yeah. I did nothing but cover her songs. So I had to kind of get away from it a little bit because I was a good copy cat.

So is it kind of just too close to home for you now to put her on one of your records?

It would kind of be sacrilege. I don't know that I … I would do it. I just don't know that I could bring anything new to it.

Yeah. Even knowing that you started out in cover bands, the obvious question is … Why does one of the best songwriters of her generation — meaning you — make a covers record?

I made my living doing covers and I got pretty good at it. And I had some special ones. It's part of what I do. I like being a cover artist and trying to bring something different to stuff. I wouldn't do it if I was just doing wedding band duplicates. [Laughs] I enjoy it.

What's different about the creative rush or release you get from covering songs, from the rush of doing your own tunes?

Well, I don't cover a song unless I love it. There's some satisfaction there. And, like I said, if I can turn it around on its ear just a little bit — even if not seriously musically, then emotionally — that's creative about it for me. And the joy of singing the song is always a big deal.

I think you probably answered this with your glorious take on “Naïve Melody,” but is there any song you can't bum the hell out of?

[Laughs] No. I can bum the hell out of any song. On this record, I did “Baker Street” which I don't think people normally think of as a bummer song. But I managed to do it.

[Laughs] Oh, you totally did. Maybe you'll have to try Pharrell's “Happy” at some point, just to really prove that you can do it.

Yeah. You never know. [Laughs]

When you approach a cover song, is it more about letting the song into you or putting yourself into the song? Or is it dependent on the piece?

I'm not sure. I kind of learn the song as it originally is, at first. Well, there are some exceptions. Like “Naïve Melody,” I got the lyrics down and had to immediately change it. I didn't really learn it as it was, but most of the time I do. Then, it doesn't sound genuine because I'm just copying. So I try to find a mood or … I guess I try to find a way into it.

Is finding a connection with the storyteller or the character part of that, too?

Yes!

Or is just being a great song enough?

Yes. Definitely. I haven't really taken an inventory. But if there's not a main character or if it's not in first-person, then I guess I'm just capturing the mood. I did a … oh, no, that's first-person, too. I was going to say, I did a cover of Gnarls Barkley's “Crazy” and the reason I did it was because it was a very personal song, lyrically, I thought.

Yeah. I'd agree. Okay … We have to talk about Neil Finn for a minute.

Okay.

Why … how … what is it that makes him so great to you?

Well, that's like saying what makes … I don't know … what makes the Beatles great? He's just a special, special artist. Amazing songwriting. Just a great pop sensibility and also crosses over into folk and rock. A singer that's got that kind of … He's a New Zealander, but there are some similarities in the accents — it's certainly not American — of British, Australians, and New Zealanders, in my opinion. He's just sort of John Lennon-esque to me. The way the words are pronounced, even the way he sings. He's just a great pop singer and an amazing songwriter. And Crowded House was the perfect vehicle for it.

I was so glad to see you pull a tune from Together Alone because, as much as I love Woodface and the first record, I go back to Together Alone a whole lot.

That's what happened to me. After Woodface, I was almost reticent to buy Together Alone because I thought, “Well, it can't measure up.” [Laughs] And, then, I got so deeply into it that it became my favorite.

Mine, too. I wore myself out on Woodface, as I think a lot of people did. But there's something so satisfying about Together Alone.

Mm-hmm. It's a deep one. Yep.

Okay. Totally switching gears … There are two things I think you understand that a lot of artists don't: The first is the importance of a great producer. I still remember the first time I listened to A Few Small Repairs. I'd pulled into my carport coming home from Tower Records. “The Facts About Jimmy” came on and I just sat there, mesmerized, thinking, “This is everything I want. This is what music is supposed to sound like.”

Wow. Thank you.

Obviously, [John] Leventhal gets a lot of credit for that, down to his guitar riff. But do you feel like the art of the producer is something that's gotten lost in the GarageBand era?

Mmmm … You know what? I'm not as in touch as I should be. [Laughs] There's so much music out there and I'm not exposed to a lot of it. I'll admit it. Through my daughter, I hear stuff. I think there's some great songwriting out there. I don't know if the art of the producer is lost. I know a lot of people are prone to produce themselves. And I just don't have a desire to do that. I don't want to be that close to it. I like collaboration. John, specifically, is also a co-writer with me. So, oftentimes, that production is part of what I first heard when I would write the lyrics. Now, “The Facts About Jimmy” I wrote the lyrics independently of any music. Then I listened to some things that he had and I decided it would match up well with that piece.

Gotcha. The second, I think you have down pat, is the job security of being able to go out on the road and play thoroughly engaging solo shows.

Yeah. Thank you.

There are a lot of people who will go see you any time you come through their town. And I think that's another bit of lost art — engaging with the audience. Kind of Performance 101.

Yeah. It's what I cut my teeth on. I remember living in Carbondale, IL, and going to the arena — I don't even remember what the arena was called — and seeing Simon & Garfunkel with no band, James Taylor with no band …

In an arena …

In an arena. To me, at the heart of the writers that I loved who had production on their records, which was almost all of them — Joni, Jackson [Browne], James Taylor, Paul Simon … I always mention the same ones when there are so many. But at the heart of it was guitar and vocals. It took me a long time to realize, “Well, that's what I can do.” That's what I learned and that just seems to make sense, it seems to call to me. It seems to be what I'm good at.

Well, I've seen you do it everywhere from McCabe's to … what is that theatre in Northampton, right there on the main drag? The Calvin?

Right. Yeah, the Calvin.

Seems like you can hold a room, no matter how big or small.

Thank you. Yeah. [Laughs] I try.

Photo credit: Alexandra Valenti