Oliver Wood Gets “Weird” On Second Solo Album, ‘Fat Cat Silhouette’

As the frontman/guitarist of The Wood Brothers, Oliver Wood is well versed in the art of roots experimentalism, but even that genre-blurring trio can’t satisfy all of his curiosity. With his second solo album, Fat Cat Silhouette (out now), the singer-songwriter set out to reach a new creative plane of existence.

Featuring nine playful, untethered tracks exploring pure sonic adventurism, the set became a case study in songwriting for songwriting’s sake; it’s a joyful mix of folk, jazz and free form pop. Recorded analog to tape by Wood Brothers percussion polymath Jano Rix, it features guest appearances by Katie Pruitt and Los Lobos saxophonist Steve Berlin, and some of the most irreverent, open-minded musical journeys ever taken. Each day, Wood would wake up, grab a coffee and sit down in a comfy chair, looking out the window to write whatever crossed his mind. The result was musical mood-shift, just a refreshing as it is insightful.

Ahead of another Wood Brothers tour, BGS talked with the artist about clearing his creative mind and getting “weird.”

It seems like you were purposely expanding your horizons on this second solo record, right? Why did you want to open up the floodgates?

Oliver Wood: I don’t know, it just felt like time to do that and time to experiment. … The Wood Brothers, we put out an album last spring and when we were done, I guess I was just still writing tunes. But also, I’ve always just liked in the last few years to make it a point to collaborate with some people outside of the band. And then production-wise, I felt like we’ve just done this album with The Wood Brothers a certain way, and a lot of times we react as artists and as writers. You sort of react to what you did before, and you try to be different, even though there’s not necessarily an exact sound in mind. It’s like, “What can we do that’s weirder?”

I love that idea of being a little weird, because why not, right? But the funny thing is that as a band, The Wood Brothers does not exactly seem limiting in terms of creativity.

No not at all.

So was there just still more in you, that had to get out creatively, or what?

I think so, yeah. And I’m sure there’s a subconscious part of me that wants to figure out what is my musical identity. I know what it is within The Wood Brothers. That’s sort of our bread and butter, but when I do my own thing, I feel like I can do whatever I want. … Maybe nobody will even hear it, so why don’t I just do get as weird as I want to get?

In the album bio, you talk about practicing songwriting without self-judgment and I think that’s a cool idea. Can you explain what that is to you and how you go about getting there?

Yeah. I think that is, first of all, almost impossible. However, maybe putting myself in a frame of mind that I was under less pressure to make something that people would like helps get there. It’s all subconscious, but when we’re with The Wood Brothers, even though we’re not trying to please anybody but ourselves, we do have to make our living, so in the back of our heads it’s like, “Oh, this song will sound good at Red Rocks or the Ryman Auditorium.” In other words, “People are going to love this.” I can’t help but think that in the back of my mind probably. But as far as writing without judgment and what that looks like? I think it looks like trust. I think it looks trusting that oftentimes your first instincts are right.

You don’t have to fix something or change something. You can trust that your soul and realness is going to come out if you just let it, and you write something down or play something, rather than going over it and editing it. I feel like I did that a lot with lyrics on this record. I wrote some things and I was like, “That doesn’t make any sense.” I caught myself thinking that, and then I was like, “Screw it. I trust that that’s what my subconscious told me to write. And it’s real.” I don’t think you really have to try to do that. In fact, the more you try, the less authentic it might be.

What came out is these nine tracks that to me are really playful and enthusiastic. What do you like about where the sound went? You definitely took some leaps.

Well, I talked with [album producer and fellow Wood Brothers member] Jano a lot about maybe being a little bit less on the drum set side, a little more on the percussion side. He is my favorite drummer ever, but sometimes I get tired of drum sets. I mean I love classic rock ‘n’ roll and R&B drums, all that stuff. But sometimes when you think about it, it sounds like everything else. So it was like “What if we didn’t have that?” There was one point where it’s like, “Jano, why don’t you do that percussion part vocally?” With the song “Whom I Adore,” not only did he play the Sitar and the tambourine, but he also did this weird shaker part with his mouth. Sometimes when you avoid one thing, you have to innovate to replace it with something else. And that was kind of the idea.

I use this really dull, rubber-bridge guitar on a lot of the songs, so there’s some more atypical guitar sounds. And of course, Steve Berlin and the bari-sax was a really cool thing. There was one section where we were wishing we had a horn section and instead Jano and I just sang all the parts. That was for “Star In the Corner,” and we just sang them like idiots – like fake opera singers! It’s kind of silly, but it was like, “That’s cool. And we haven’t done that before.”

That to me was the way to go to be non-judgmental, to be like you called it, playful. Sometimes you feel like you can control something and make it just perfect. But the opposite of that is letting go and trusting that if you try something, it may or may not turn you on, but when it works, it’ll surprise you and delight you. And that’s so much more fun than trying to control something and never quite being happy.

Tell me about the track “Little Worries.” This contains the album title, Fat Cat Silhouette, which is so fun. How does that song speak to the project overall?

Some of the themes, I feel like bloomed from that song. I have a ritual where I’ll go downstairs in the morning and have a cup of coffee in this armchair, which is right by a window facing my front yard. And I usually go down there and I write and sometimes I just write in a notebook, just sort of freeform. Sometimes it’s working on a song, but it’s wide open and several of these songs kind of started that way.

The idea of the Fat Cat Silhouette was really just an actual thing. I’m sitting there in that chair with my cup of coffee and I have these semi-transparent sheer curtains, and there’s a cat sitting there looking out the window. Sometimes for me – and I’m pretty sure for a lot of other songwriters – you don’t know what you’re going to write about, but you may see something that gets you started. And so the beginning of that song is literally me describing sitting in the chair with my cup of coffee and there’s a fat cat silhouette in the window.

That sort of observation, oftentimes if you write it down, can lead to a story. The first song on the album, “Light and Sweet,” happened the same way, sitting in the same spot looking out the window and there’s a sparrow. I started the song and then I started fantasizing. He’s on the phone with his lawyer talking about his divorce with his soon to be ex-wife.

[Laughs] You don’t hear many songs about bird law.

Exactly! But with the “Little Worries” song, I think writing that song and writing in general every morning is a good way for me to deal with anxieties and overthinking things. And that kind of turned out to be what that song was about.

How about “Yo I Surrender.” This is another track about giving up control, but also I think the most fun on the record. I love how you said it has the worst guitar sound ever. Why does that work for you?

That’s one that Jano and me and [bassist] Ted [Pecchio] were warming up one day, and we just started playing that groove. We just had fun playing that groove and I saved it on my phone, and then Steve Berlin from Los Lobos was in town with his bari-sax, and we invited him to come into the studio, help us finish writing that song. So the four of us sort of arranged the music and parallel to that, I was starting to think about the lyrics. I was also reading some cool books that were giving me some cool vocabulary words that I was like, “I just want to use that word. I don’t even care if it fits. I don’t even care if it makes sense.” It was definitely one of those things where it was musically such a group effort, and then lyrically one of those things – let it be weird, let it be ambiguous. I think some of my favorite songs that I’ve heard over the years are always a little bit ambiguous.


Photo Credit: Alysse Gafkjen

Grammy Nominations 2022: See the American Roots Music Nominees

The Grammy Awards have revealed their nominees, and the American Roots Music ballot is especially diverse this year. Take a look at nominations for the 2022 show, which will air January 31 from Los Angeles on CBS. (See the full list.)

Best American Roots Performance

Jon Batiste – “Cry”
Billy Strings – “Love and Regret”
The Blind Boys of Alabama and Béla Fleck – “I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to be Free”
Brandy Clark Featuring Brandi Carlile – “Same Devil”
Allison Russell – “Nightflyer”

Best American Roots Song

Rhiannon Giddens, Francesco Turrisi – “Avalon”
Valerie June Featuring Carla Thomas – “Call Me a Fool”
Jon Batiste – “Cry”
Yola – “Diamond Studded Shoes”
Allison Russell – Nightflyer

Best Americana Album

Jackson Browne – Downhill From Everywhere
John Hiatt with the Jerry Douglas Band – Leftover Feelings
Los Lobos – Native Sons
Allison Russell – Outside Child
Yola – Stand for Myself

Best Bluegrass Album

Billy Strings – Renewal
Béla Fleck – My Bluegrass Heart
The Infamous Stringdusters – A Tribute to Bill Monroe
Sturgill Simpson – Cuttin’ Grass Vol. 1 (Butcher Shoppe Sessions)
Rhonda Vincent – Music Is What I See

Best Traditional Blues Album

Elvin Bishop and Charlie Musselwhite – 100 Years of Blues
Blues Traveler – Traveler’s Blues
Cedric Burnside – I Be Trying
Guy Davis – Be Ready When I Call You
Kim Wilson – Take Me Back

Best Contemporary Blues Album

The Black Keys Featuring Eric Deaton and Kenny Brown – Delta Kream
Joe Bonamassa – Royal Tea
Shemekia Copeland – Uncivil War
Steve Cropper – Fire It Up
Christone “Kingfish” Ingram – 662

Best Folk Album

Mary Chapin Carpenter – One Night Lonely (Live)
Tyler Childers – Long Violent History
Madison Cunningham – Wednesday (Extended Edition)
Rhiannon Giddens with Francesco Turrisi – They’re Calling Me Home
Sarah Jarosz – Blue Heron Suite

Best Regional Roots Music Album

Sean Ardoin and Kreole Rock and Soul – Live in New Orleans!
Big Chief Monk Boudreaux – Bloodstains and Teardrops
Cha Wa – My People
Corey Ledet Zydaco – Corey Ledet Zydaco
Kalani Pe’a – Kau Ka Pe’a


Photo of Allison Russell: Marc Baptiste
Photo of Tyler Childers: David McClister
Photo of Rhiannon Giddens and Francesco Turrisi: Karen Cox

The BGS Radio Hour – Episode 216

Welcome to the BGS Radio Hour! Since 2017, this weekly radio show and podcast has been a recap of all the great music, new and old, featured on the digital pages of BGS. This week, David Crosby and Sarah Jarosz join up for a Joni Mitchell number, husband-and-wife duo Darin and Brooke Aldridge bring us some beautiful bluegrass harmonies, LA’s own Los Lobos share their rendition of a favorite Jackson Browne tune, and much more.

APPLE PODCASTS, SPOTIFY

The Wallflowers – “Maybe Your Heart’s Not In It Anymore”

25 years after their breakout hit and almost a decade after their most recent release, The Wallflowers are back with a new album, Exit Wounds. In our interview with Jakob Dylan we talk about the project, singing with Shelby Lynne, the documentary Dylan executive produced, Echo in the Canyon, and more.

Ric Robertson – “Carolina Child”

We spoke with Ric Robertson about playing a popcorn kernel in a musical as a kid, his kite surfing aspirations, his new album Carolina Child, and more in a recent edition of 5+5.

Amy Ray Band – “Chuck Will’s Widow”

Amy Ray of The Indigo Girls finds herself often haunted by the song of the nocturnal songbird, the Chuck-will’s-widow: “I find that I witness the most profound moments in the midst of their songs, when everyone else is asleep. While I am often in need of rest, the respite I find in being awake under a miraculous and melodic night sky is too tempting for me to sleep. It’s a conundrum that inspires me, but also leaves me bleary-eyed.”

Darin and Brooke Aldridge – “Once In A While”

Bluegrass husband-and-wife duo Darin & Brooke Aldridge hope that every aspect of their music makes you smile — even more than “Once in a While!”

Matt the Electrician – “Home Again”

Folk singer-songwriter Matt The Electrician will return with a new album called We Imagined an Ending in November. A new track, “Home Again,” takes inspiration from the point of view of his teenage daughter. “The conundrum of parenthood, that as you finally start to figure some things out, and try to pass along some of that hard won wisdom, you’re greeted with your own teenage face staring balefully back at you.”

Tobacco City – “AA Blues”

Says Chris Coleslaw of Tobacco City’s latest single, “The character in the song is trapped between working in a brewery and staring at beers all day and trying to walk a sober line. I think regardless of your sobriety status we can all relate to those kind of blues.”

Jesse Daniel – “Clayton Was A Cowboy”

Jesse Daniel spoke with us about his new album, Beyond These Walls, about growing up catching crawdads and fishing, the chills-inducing feeling when a crowd sings along with his lyrics, and more in a recent 5+5.

Joy Oladokun – “Judas”

Joy Oladokun is able to do more with just an acoustic guitar and her voice than many artists can in an entire discography of work. And going from Arizona to L.A. then across country to Nashville with a new outlook and perspective, her music stands on a plane with a unique vantage point.

Luke LeBlanc – “Same Blues”

A new video for Luke LeBlanc’s co-written tune with Roy August, “Same Blues,” attempts to capture what the song is about: the tug of war between the status quo and what you’re currently doing versus that thing you really want to do.

Midnight North – “Silent Lonely Drifter”

“Silent Lonely Drifter” is an original folk melody reminiscent of timeless Appalachian string band music. Each verse references a different full moon, speaking to the natural balance that exists in the universe.

Los Lobos – “Jamaica Say You Will”

The Jackson Browne tune “Jamaica Say You Will” always resonated for the fellas of Los Lobos and the narrative and storytelling were attractive, too. So, they recorded their own rendition of the track on their latest project, Native Sons.

Aoife O’Donovan ft. Milk Carton Kids – “More Than We Know”

New music from Aoife O’Donovan is here and we’re loving it! Hear tracks created with Joe Henry and the Milk Carton Kids — one inspired by the modern classic re-telling of Peter Pan, the movie Hook.

John R. Miller – “Shenandoah Shakedown”

Depreciated, the new Rounder Records release from singer-songwriter John R. Miller, combines many of his string band and bluegrass influences with a satisfyingly melancholy and dark mood — plus plenty of fiddle.

David Crosby ft. Sarah Jarosz – “For Free”

Legendary singer, guitar picker, and songwriter David Crosby keeps his love for collaboration alive on his new album, For Free, which features guests and co-writers such as Sarah Jarosz, Michael McDonald, his son James Raymond, and more.


Photos: (L to R) Joy Oladokun by Nolan Knight; Aoife O’Donovan courtesy of Shorefire Media; David Crosby by Anna Webber

LISTEN: Los Lobos, “Jamaica Say You Will”

Artist: Los Lobos (David Hidalgo, Louie Pérez Jr., Cesar Rosas, Conrad Lozano, and Steve Berlin)
Hometown: East Los Angeles, California
Song: “Jamaica Say You Will” (Jackson Browne cover)
Album: Native Sons
Release Date: July 30, 2021
Label: New West Records

In Their Words: “I used to go over to David’s house after school and listen to records with him, and this song always resonated for me — such a beautiful melody. And the narrative was something I was attracted to. The storytelling. This song in particular inspired me to write from introspection — and I saw that my songs could be personal, but I could still write them to be universal. To this day, that’s been the template.” — Louie Perez Jr.

“A very delicate track. I know it’s a big favorite of Dave’s and he brought it in, but I was surprised — I mean, that’s kind of a heavy lift! Dave knocked it out of the park. Everybody did great work on it. I think we did it justice.” — Steve Berlin

“Another old favorite. Great song. Louie introduced me to Jackson. We’ve worked together on projects and become friends.” — David Hidalgo

(Artist quotes from Native Sons‘ album liner notes.)


Photo credit: Piero F. Giunti

 

LISTEN: Julian Taylor, “Love Enough”

Artist: Julian Taylor
Hometown: Toronto, Ontario, Canada
Song: “Love Enough”
Album: The Ridge
Release Date: May 8, 2020 (single); June 19, 2020 (album)
Label: Howling Turtle Inc.

In Their Words: “The thing about this song is that melody has lived with me for over a decade, but this one scared me — I never felt like I could get behind it and deliver this song honestly until everything in my world had essentially been taken away from me. The lyrics were first written by my friend Robert Priest, but I mixed and twisted them around to fit what I truly felt I needed to say on a personal level. We had always talked about it being a breakup song, but ironically it’s not; it’s about being a bit off and then on and then off again.

“I’ve always been a big fan of Los Lobos and The Mavericks and that Tex-Mex feel — it’s so evocative, so restless — and I wanted this song to be live in a room, like a kitchen party. I love that sound — the sound of realness, flawless in all its imperfections. ‘Love Enough’ has that feel because that’s how it was recorded: we all sat really close to one another and gave it our all, live off the floor, two acoustic guitars, and upright bass and congas. It’s authentic and real.” — Julian Taylor


Photo credit: Lisa MacIntosh

WATCH: Mile Twelve, “Whiskey Trail”

Artist: Mile Twelve
Hometown: Boston, Massachusetts
Single: “Whiskey Trail”
Release Date: November 15, 2019
Label: Delores the Taurus Records

In Their Words: “Our bass player Nate brought this energetic Los Lobos song to the band nearly a year ago, and it has slowly but surely become one of our favorites to perform. Even though originally imagined for electric instruments, we think the bluegrass outfit suits the music well. Now we’re excited to be releasing this song as a studio single! To celebrate the premiere we made this live video of our arrangement performed at the Fox Bar & Cocktail Lounge in Nashville, Tennessee, and filmed by the amazing Alex Chaloff. What better place to film a song about hard liquor than this, right?” — David Benedict, Mile Twelve


Photo credit: Kaitlyn Raitz

BGS 5+5: The Delines

Artist: The Delines
Hometown: Portland, Oregon
Latest album: The Imperial
Band members: Amy Boone, Cory Gray, Sean Oldham, Freddy Trujillo, Willy Vlautin

Answers by Willy Vlautin

Which artist has influenced you the most … and how?

Man oh man that’s a tough question. I go in phases so I can’t name just one. I grew up worshipping Willie Nelson, he’s always been my personal sorta saint, next was X and then The Pogues and Los Lobos then probably Tom Waits and Louis Armstrong and a dozen others as well.

What’s your favorite memory from being on stage?

The Delines were playing a gig in Madrid and in the audience, right in front of the stage, were two couples making out. A man and a woman and then two men, and I went to myself, goddamn maybe what we’re doing is working! With Richmond Fontaine no women ever came to our shows. It was all middle-aged drunk dudes and none of them had probably made out with anyone in years.

What other art forms — literature, film, dance, painting, etc — inform your music?

I always write songs thinking they are part of a movie and I write novels for a living so those two have always been a big part of my life. I love novels more than anything and I could spend my life in a movie theater. Since I started, I’ve written in characters and stories. For a shy kid it was always easier for me to do it that way. I could say what I needed to say without anyone looking at me. I was way too insecure otherwise. Writing in stories gave me complete freedom from everything, including myself.

What’s the toughest time you ever had writing a song?

Probably from age 12-26. I wrote obsessively, hundreds of tunes and not one good one. Not a single one. You would have thought I’d have stumbled upon one or two but I didn’t. But I loved writing them even though I knew I was no good at it. And then finally a good song came to me. I was 27 and worked at a trucking company loading trucks and all the drivers were talking about seeing shit on the road late at night, white line fever. I was like hot damn, I’ll write that tune. So I write the tune about a long haul trucker who never calls his wife and all the while his wife is on a bender and ends up in a psych ward. I was so proud of the tune, my first good one after 14 years of writing bad ones. Then I played it in a bar one night and a guy comes up to me and says, “That sure don’t sound like Merle’s ‘White Line Fever’ to me.” That’s when I found out Merle Haggard had already written the tune. Even when I was certain I’d gotten a good one someone had already done it.

What was the first moment that you knew you wanted to be a musician?

It started for me around ten but I never thought I would be much of a musician. I just always wanted to plant my flag with musicians because I grew up believing in records more than anything else. Records were always my favorite friends in life. So after a while, just to get closer to them, I joined up.


Photo credit: Jason Quigley

Small World: Joni Mitchell at 75

A few years back a video started circulating online, a black-and-white clip of a 1965 TV appearance on a local Canadian show of a young woman from Saskatoon, Joni Anderson by name. She performed two songs: a distinctive original “Born to Take the Highway” and a version of John Phillips’ cowboy ballad “Me and My Uncle,” her demeanor tipping between self-possessed and shy. And then, a few times, she looked sideways into the camera, eyes big, sparkling and mysterious, as if she was saying, “Oh, you just wait. I have some things to show you.”

But even she — you know her as Joni Mitchell — could not have had any idea of all the things that were to come as she would become one of the most individualistically creative and influential music artists of our era, someone who defined, redefined, and refused to be defined by what it means to be a singer-songwriter.

One simply cannot sum up the scope of her life in the arts. Yes, arts plural, as she has long said that she considers herself a painter first and a musician second. But in music, her reach is matched by no other’s, starting early on as she drew as much on theater music and classical forms as on anything that one could call folk, no matter how much she used her mountain dulcimer.

Her first albums were marked by invention all her own, starting with her indecipherable guitar tunings. By the early ‘70s she was tapping top jazz musicians, from slick Tom Scott and the L.A. Express to world-exploring Weather Report to worlds-creating Charles Mingus, to expand her already vast musical world, a decade before Sting did the same. Soon she was reveling in African and Afro-Latin sources, from the Burundi drummers to Don Alias, Alex Acuña and Airto Moreira, for some of her most distinctive work, also years before Talking Heads or Peter Gabriel did similar, not to mention Paul Simon’s Graceland.

And in the larger picture, she still stands as one of the most impactful documentarians and enactors of modern womanhood, placing female perspective in prominence where male views had dominated. Her willingness to reveal herself, with her flaws and vulnerabilities visible, was and remains a courageous act.

(L-R) James Taylor, Emmylou Harris, Graham Nash, Seal, Rufus Wainwright, Glen Hansard, Louie Perez, La Marisoul, Chaka Khan, Brandi Carlile and Kris Kristofferson perform at Joni 75: A Birthday Celebration Live At The Dorothy Chandler Pavilion.

Hence, the seemingly impossible task facing JONI 75: A Birthday Celebration Live at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, the two-night, all-star celebration of Mitchell’s milestone birthday presented by the Music Center last week in downtown Los Angeles. How can you capture a singular artist in just a few hours? And how can the particular singularity of this artist translate in full flower through other artists? Mitchell herself — her talents, vision and methods — is inextricable from her music. Mitchell is her art, and vice versa.

Several performances on the second night (her actual birthday) embraced and embodied that concept, and in the process transcended mere tribute: Diana Krall’s performances of “For the Roses” and “Amelia” had the audience members in hushed reverence in their course and had stolen their breath by the end. Seal tapped his inner Nat King Cole to transform “Both Sides Now” and “A Strange Boy” into heights-scaling soul-pop-jazz.

Following an audio clip of Mitchell talking about her passion for exploring the richness of America’s ethnic syntheses, three members of Los Lobos, two of the ensemble Los Cambalache, and singer La Marisoul of La Santa Cecilia — three groups crossing generations of musical leadership in L.A.’s Mexican-rooted heritage — teamed with the stellar house band for “Dreamland,” using the percussion-drive of Mitchell’s 1976 original as a mere starting point. For this grouping, with Los Cambalache’s Xochi Flores on the dance-percussion zapateado, the song was transformed into a Mexican folk song, to the point that “La Bamba” was spliced seamlessly into its middle. (Oh, and Chaka Khan, who did vocal counterpoint with Mitchell on the original, came on stage to spar delightfully with La Marisoul!)

Brandi Carlile (L) and Kris Kristofferson perform at Joni 75: A Birthday Celebration Live At The Dorothy Chandler Pavilion.

Brandi Carlile was just as arresting sticking to the Mitchell blueprint on her version of “Down to You,” which she did following a charming if ragged “A Case of You” in duet with Kris Kristofferson. On the red carpet before the show, Carlile explained her process.

“I try to do it just like she does it,” she said. “Because, out of respect, out of reverence and out of the fact that I don’t think it can be done better than she does it.”

But as an artist, doesn’t she want herself in anything she does?

“Anybody but Joni,” she said, definitively.

Even Emmylou Harris admitted to the daunting prospect of covering Mitchell. Though “an interpreter for most of my career,” she noted, also on the red carpet, that she had only ever recorded one Mitchell song, “The Magdalene Laundries,” for a 2007 Mitchell tribute album.

“We’re all feeling the little bit of pressure,” she said. “You don’t want to take too much of Joni out of this, but on the other hand we have to make it our own. You’ll see most of the artists did an amazing job.”

Harris performed that song (a lament for “women enslaved in convents in Ireland”) at Joni 75, perfectly striking the balance she cited, and also for these shows added the similarly dark “Cold Blue Steel and Sweet Fire” to her Joni repertoire. Others found their own balance to varying degrees. Norah Jones brought some twang to “Court and Spark” and “Borderline.” Glen Hansard injected his Irish exuberance into “Coyote” and “The Boho Dance.” Rufus Wainwright, a fellow Canadian, added his mannered drama to “Blue” and took “All I Want” to Broadway. Khan in her two spots brought soul-jazz to “Help Me” and “Two Grey Rooms.” James Taylor managed to make “River” and “Woodstock” sound as if they were his own songs, without losing any of Mitchell’s presence in them.

Through it all, the house band, led and arranged by pianist Jon Cowherd and drummer Brian Blade (the latter a veteran of Mitchell’s bands), expertly covered the full range of the music, shining and soaring in particular on the chamber-orchestral middle section of “Down to You.”

Graham Nash, rather than doing a song by Mitchell, did one about her: “Our House,” his portrait of their Laurel Canyon domesticity from so many years back, the crowd singing along on the chorus and sharing the bliss.

Mitchell herself was in attendance on the second night, hobbled but hearty more than three and a half years after suffering a brain aneurysm. The crowd sang “Happy Birthday” to her twice — once as she took her seat before the show, and again when she came on stage for a curtain call, a cake brought out and the assembled cast and crew reprising the all-hands closer, “Big Yellow Taxi,” Mitchell sporting a huge smile, mouthing the words and even dancing a bit.

Did Joni 75 capture the entire scope and depth of Mitchell’s magnificence? Of course not. With her Canadian roots spotlighted in the stage decorations (a canoe suspended overhead, skis leaned at the back, a couple of barrels framing the set), the evening summed up her global embrace of music and art, and the global embrace of her music and art.

(Editor’s Note — Check out this writer’s Spotify playlist, Epiphanies: A Joni Mitchell Deep Dive.)

Joni Mitchell (seated) attends Joni 75: A Birthday Celebration Live At The Dorothy Chandler Pavilion.

All photos: Vivien Killilea/Getty Images for The Music Center

The Producers: Steve Berlin

Philadelphia-born producer Steve Berlin cut his musical teeth playing R&B with some of the City of Brotherly Love's most famous sessioneers, went West to find himself a member of the Blasters and, for the last 40 years, has been the saxophonist, keyboardist, and de facto producer of Los Lobos. He's also produced a host of records for other artists, as well, from a strangely quixotic album for Clap Your Hands Say Yeah singer Alec Ounsworth to an upcoming set for one of American's best-known bluegrass bands (whose name we're not at liberty to divulge right now). Currently a resident of Portland, Berlin sat down at the city's Case Study Coffee Shop to talk about classic R&B, what it was like to produce Leo Kottke, and how the most recent Los Lobos studio record could be the last Los Lobos studio record.

I didn’t realize you were born in Philadelphia. Did the Philly soul of the late '60s and early '70s have any influence on you?

Oh my God, yeah. Huge influence. When that stuff was happening, I was, like, 16. Some of the people I was playing with in Philly, at that time, were playing on those records. Those guys are my heroes; those records, to this day, are some of the most amazing productions ever. They’re so three dimensional and so beautiful and so iconic and soulful. That had a lot do with me choosing to be a producer: "How do you do that? How do you make something that sounds that beautiful?"

And radio in Philly was so advanced. We had one of the first underground FM stations. When they came online, I was 13 and I would listen to it religiously. Great Black stations, great soul stations, great jazz stations. I was a child of that; that was the stew I grew up in. When I got to play with these musicians, it was a great place to learn because there was an extremely high standard. You had to show up, play great, and play anything. You couldn’t really say, "Sorry. I don’t that. I’m a jazz guy. Or I’m a rock guy."

So what kind of records are we talking about? Hall & Oates Abandoned Luncheonette, for example? 

That’s a great record. It’s so funny you would bring that up. Literally, this morning, I was thinking, "I should find that record again. That’s such a great record." Arif Mardin produced that — that was a New York production, even though Hall & Oates were from Philly. I was talking about the Philly International stuff: Gamble and Huff …

… The O’Jays …

The O’Jays. The Spinners. Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes. Gamble and Huff produced the Soul Survivors record. I was playing with the band behind the Soul Survivors. Then they moved to L.A. and that’s how I got to the West Coast. They became Billy Preston’s band and said, "Hey, you should come out. Let’s put a band together here." So I did, back in ‘75. That band put one record out on Casablanca. So we got to see that whole circus. It was an interesting time, for sure.

I still get chills listening to Teddy Pendergrass …

Oh, yeah. You put those records on and it’s like … I still can’t understand how they did it. They’re so rich — the reverb spaces. I’m a pro. I should be able to figure this stuff out and it’s still beyond me. It’s magical.

How did you become part of Los Lobos?

Well, the band [that recorded on Casablanca] fell apart and I moved to Venice Beach and started playing with some guys down there, just for something to do. One of the bands was called the Beachnuts. We were terrible, but we were around a lot. The lead singer was this Korean guy who called himself Beachy Beachnut. He was a relentless self-promoter so we would play all weekend, every weekend. There weren’t a lot of sax players around … there were pros, but there weren’t a lot of guys like myself, who would play with just about anybody. So, just from being aorund, I ended meeting a lot of people who would go on to be part of the Blasters and X and bands like that.

I was working at a music store in Hollywood and I got a call from Dave Alvin [of the Blasters] asking if I could play baritone. And I said "absolutely" even though I didn’t. [Laughs] Luckily, there was a baritone at the music store that I "borrowed." That session went well so I ended up being in that band for about three years. When Los Lobos opened up for them one night, I became friends with them and started playing with them when I was off the road with the Blasters.

I produced a track for them that was on a rockabilly compilation. That went well so, when they got signed to Slash, I produced the first EP along with T Bone Burnett. By the end of that record, I was in the band.

How was it working with T Bone?

Complicated. It’s always complicated. [Laughs]

Should I ask you to explain that?

Uh … I’ll just leave it at that. I don’t want to be that guy.

Okay, then, rather than talking about all 900 records in your producer catalog, let’s talk about one of my favorites: John Lee Hooker’s The Healer.

Well, to be honest, I just did that as a member of the band. I had a lot to do with the production, but it’s not one you could say I produced.

The coolest thing about that record is that I was — and still am — a big Beastie Boys fan. Back before they actually got intelligent. I thought they were fascinating, sonically, really cool. So I was a really big fan of Mario Caldado, who engineered and produced those records. When we got the call to do the John Lee Hooker record, I thought, "It would be really cool to get Mario to do this record." So, I reached out to him, we met, and I told him it was going to be us and John Lee Hooker … and he was scared shitless. Here’s a guy who did multi-million-selling records going, "I don’t know if I know how do this." I said, "Of course you do. Just do what you do. Just guys playing. It just happens to be John Lee Hooker. " [Laughs] Part of it was for me — I just wanted to see how he did it, to observe his process. Like, "How do you make those great records?"

Which, of all the records you’ve done, stands out as being special in some way?

That’s an interesting question. There are a lot of them that fall under that category. I guess, like any parent, I like some of the weirder ones. I like the ones that are very odd … that didn’t really sell or anything like that … but are really close to my heart.

I did a record [Mo’ Beauty] with the lead singer of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah [Alec Ounsworth]. After [Hurricane] Katrina, they did these artist retreat kinds of things in New Orleans to raise consciousness about what was happening in the city … how fucked they were by the U.S. government, how the Army Corps of Engineers basically caused the flood … to interpret for themselves how things happened, because everyone thought it was a natural disaster.

I met Alec on one of those and we said, "Wouldn’t it be cool to do a record down here?" About a year later, we made it happen. It was Stan Moore from Galactica, who’s one of my favorite drummers on earth; George Porter [the bassist] from the Meters; Robert Walter on keys; a friend of Alec’s on pedal steel; and myself. Alec’s voice is an acquired taste, but the record was so much fun to make and his songs are really strange, really odd. But he works extremely hard at them. He’s not like some talented amateur; he’s a craftsman. 

On the first song we did, the lyrics are about him falling in love with another man. [Alec’s] not gay but George is like, [Growling] "What is this shit? I didn’t sign up for this." Gradually, over the course of the day, though, he figured out this is great music, that it was going to be cool. The horn section was this group called Bonerama, this group of four trombone players. The other day, I was trying to talk this other band into hiring them. Since they're all over the Alec record, I had to listen again. And I thought, "Wow, this is a really great record. It’s really powerful, really emotional." So that’s one that I love. 

I did a record with Leo Kottke [Great Big Boy] that I really love. I got approached by his label, who wanted to do a record of him singing. But he’s a very reticent singer; he doesn’t really like it. It was interesting to work with him in that he hears music in a very different way. We would agree that this particular sound is an electric guitar or a piano. But he hears things more in colors. He would say, if he hears anything in a certain range — something like 40hz down to 800hz — he can’t do anything, as if it literally closes off everything else. I was like, "That’s kind of wacky." I said to him, "So you don’t work with bass players?" He said, "No, I do, but I hate them." [Laughs] So we basically did the record with just him and a drum machine, and then built it back out from there. It was a really interesting way to make a record. I had never done that before … or since, for that matter.

And he was so anti-his voice that I had to come up with a new way every day to trick him into singing. We’d be packing up and I’d go, "Hey, Leo, would you mind putting a scratch vocal on this thing so I can do a rough mix on it?" I could never allow him to think he was singing. It always was, "Can you do me a favor? Just before you go. You don’t have to take your guitar out. Leave your jacket on; just run through this." That was how we did the whole record.

The psychology of being a producer …

I don’t think I’m particularly good at that part, but I’ve worked with master manipulators.

When I talked with Dave Cobb about producing Jason Isbell, we talked a lot about Bridge over Troubled Water and Roy Halee, whom he considers to be one of his big influences. Also Jimmy Miller.

Jimmy Miller is a true unsung hero. He was at the center of so many unbelievable records and nobody gives him enough credit. People never talk about Jimmy Miller the way they talk about T Bone, for example. I guess he missed out on the cult of personality part of the game. But, my God, that guy worked with Traffic, the Stones, you name it. Bob Johnston is another guy, making all those folk records in the '60s. It’s amazing. There are so many seminal guys that nobody mentions even though they’re literally the architects of modern music.

Is there a Steve Berlin aesthetic? A legacy of some sort that you would like to see passed on to the next generation of producers?

I learned this going from producing my band to being a band member: It’s never worked for me to have a sound that I bring with me. You can’t take this trick that worked once and plug it in over here and expect it to work the same way. What I’ve come to practice is to walk into a session with pretty extensive notes that no one knows but me, but not with an idea that I’m going to do something a certain way. Every project is a new thing — every song, every track. That’s what makes it fun. And, for me, it’s healthier.

When you look back at producing the first Los Lobos EP and then look at producing the latest one [Gates of Gold], what’s changed?

Well, number one is that I didn’t produce the new album. It says "Produced by Los Lobos." Normally, as part of Lobos, I would do a lot of the same stuff I would do as a producer but, really, it works best when it’s collegial. We work best without a leader. When you get to 40+ years together, nobody wants to hear from anybody what he oughta be doing. On Gates of Gold, in particular, I made a conscious effort to just let shit happen. I was the instigator on a lot of stuff on other records but, on this one, for whatever reason, I felt it was important for people to have more of an emotional investment in this record. So I was one-fifth of the hive mind that created it. There were a lot of choices made that I was on the losing end of and I’m fine with that.

It was a hard record to make, on a lot of levels. What made it hard was that everybody had to step up and make choices on their own. It was a challenge for some guys because they’re just used to going with the flow. You know — "You figure it out. I’m just going to go back home and watch TV or whatever." So, it was tough and it took a long time because, in some cases, the guys didn’t want to make choices. They just wanted someone to tell them what to do. And I thought it was important for everyone to be invested, not just saying, "Well, that was Steve’s call or that was the engineer’s call."

In terms of what has changed over the years, there are a lot of lessons we’ve learned. Number one: We’re a bunch of guys who get bored easily and, when we’re bored, it’s not good. So, one way to keep us from being bored is to not really know what’s going on before recording. We never rehearse before going in to do an album — there's almost no sharing of any demos, there’s no discussion prior to the first day or even once we start, to be honest. It’s sort of like, when you show up, you just have to jump on the boat and ride through the rapids and just go with whatever happens. Sometimes that's easy, like in the '90s when we did Kiko and Colossal Head. As I look back, they were incredibly easy records to make. Back then, you didn’t have to paddle very much; the boat would go on its own. To be honest, the last three studio records have been a lot of paddling, a lot of swimming upstream.

Frankly, I don’t know if there’ll be another one. It’s hard for me to imagine, at this point in our career, the rationale for doing another one. Where we’re at now, where our fans are at. Do we need another record? I don’t know.


Photo of Steve Berlin at the Portland Waterfront Blues Festival, 2014 by Michael Verity

The Essential Los Lobos Playlist

Just Another Band From East L.A.

Well, not exactly. The sextet that is Los Lobos has been one of the most influential bands on the American music landscape for the better part of 40 years, a group that’s combined the roots of Mexican Tejano music with the energy of American Top 40 to produce their own unique sound.

The story of Los Lobos begins one day in the early '70s at East L.A.’s Garfield High School, where singer and guitarist David Hidalgo and drummer Louie Perez discovered they had a common love of writers like Randy Newman and Ry Cooder. With bassist Conrad Lozano and guitarist Cesar Rojas joining the fray, the core of Los Lobos was born somewhere around 1973. Squeezing dirt cheap recording sessions and weekend wedding gigs in-between their day jobs, the band — with the addition of saxophonist Steve Berlin — played throughout L.A. during the '70s until they scored a night opening for Public Image Ltd. in 1980. By that time, the band had long forsaken Top 40 covers and were experimenting with their signature blend of traditional Mexican music and three-chord rock 'n' roll.

Their critically acclaimed 1983 EP, … And a Time to Dance, was followed the next year with their breakout major label release, How Will the Wolf Survive?. The heart-breakingly beautiful song of Hispanic life in America, “One Time, One Night,” appeared in the movie Colors and provided the anchor for another highly acclaimed record, 1987’s By the Light of the Moon. That same year they recorded their ubiquitous cover of Richie Valens’ “La Bamba” and found themselves touring the world with the likes of the Grateful Dead and Bob Dylan. In 1988, they returned to their roots with La Pistola y El Corazon, an album completely in Spanish that won the band a Grammy in 1989.

The '90s found Los Lobos experimenting with darker, noisier sound, and yielded three of their very best albums: The Neighborhood, which included appearances by Levon Helm and John Hiatt; the beautiful Kiko; and the rugged Colossal Head. Since the turn of the century, the band have done a 10-spot’s worth of albums, though new studio material has come less frequently, with cover albums and live sets becoming more common. The one truly exceptional studio piece from that era, The Ride, includes some fabulous cameos by the likes of Tom Waits and Mavis Staples.

In The Encyclopedia of Popular Music, Colin Larkin refers to How Will the Wolf Survive? as “the critical breakthrough album for a refreshing sound that created Tex-Mex rock ’n’ roll.” That might be overstating the case a bit; the Lobos, themselves, would likely agree that Richie Valens was the architect of "Tex-Mex rock 'n' roll." But their fresh take on that sound has been built into a repertoire of touching narratives of life in Hispanic America blended with have-a-blast rock 'n' roll to form a legacy of tremendously influential music.

Here’s a concise playlist of the essential Los Lobos tunes.


Photo credit: Public Domain