When This Puzzle's Figured Out, Will You Still Be Around

Good gravy, we've got a ton of new shit to cover.  Let's wrap up last year and get on with it!  The Top 10 Records of 2013, according to yr expert witness, The Big Rock Candy Mountain! 

The previous list of records could be shuffled around a bit, depending on listening pleasure, but the following are pretty special, and we're sticking with 'em.  We think they're gonna be albums y'all will return to again and again...there's a reason they place where they do!  We make no apologies for bias, of course.  Some new bands, some old favorites, some surprises. 

As always, support the artists in any way you can.  If we don't, all we're left with is corporate crap.  And who wants that?

Enough blathering...let's get on with it!

The Big Rock Candy Mountain Favorite Records of 2013 (Part 5)

10. Daniel Romano: Come Cry With Me

A pure country rekkid, heavy on mid-tempo whiskey swillers, echoed in twang.  Lots of pretenders these days, amidst the conrnpone dreck and pseudopunk country that seems all the rage, but this cat's the real deal, crafting true blue honky tonk in the James Hand mode, bathed in a tub of corn liquor, don't be fooled by imitation.  This rekkid, and previous ones as well, has spent many late nights on our playlist, swinging us sad across the dance floor, or soundtracking the darkest moments alone clinking ice against a tumbler.  Without a doubt the best Country rekkid we heard all year, and a boon from the stale...no pretense, no juiced-up junk as masquerade...a moving (yes) and "don't let the stars get in your eyes" tribute and furthering of a tradition that speaks back mythically, but hollers forward.  A stunning collection of tunes that sound as fresh and new as dandelions in the snow.


Daniel Romano: Middle Child (mp3)

9. Guadalupe Plata: Guadalupe Plata

Destruction of every trope you wish to adhere to.  A psychedelic Blues masterpiece, but owing nothing to the generic 60's hippie shit you think that applies to.  This is true pysch obliteration, playing the deepest of Mississippi mud and destroying every roadhouse from here to Mars (and beyond).  Fully realized for headphones and splattered truck, a record of incredible power and soul, leavened with trashcan holler and wail. Bombing the expected with geetar  strangled and fucked, a voice so distant and so real chewing muddy waters in space suits and rocket fuel. An astonishing debut that only promises even better things.  Get. This. Record. Now.


Guadalupe Plata: Esclavo (mp3)

8. John Paul Keith: Memphis Circa 3 AM and John Paul Keith and Amy LaVere: Motel Mirrors

Well, heck, haven't we already pimped John Paul Keith enough times?  Well no, we haven't...so let's continue.  The Last Great Songwriter, the man who has the hook you can't deny, and the swing that is pure perfection.  His record Memphis Circa 3 AM is a must...a swoozled mixed drink stirrer, the end of night dancer and lothario.  Pure cowpop'n' Memphis desire.  The record demands a longer review.....But here's the kicker....His all-too-brief record with Amy LaVere is an even better slice of brilliance...Here's a portion of what we wrote before...

Some posit that the proper "duet" record is dead, with too many one-song, 10-line "collaborations" and not enough meat.  Motel Mirrors is the perfect prescription for that kind of thinking.

The record is too short, only 7 songs, it's an EP.  That would be our only criticism.  We wanted more.  Much more.  But perhaps that's a good thing.  Always leave your audience hungry.  And hungry we are.  It's a stunner, perfect in it's brevity and astonishing in scope.  Amy LaVere has a voice that will break your heart, partly because she demands you love her, shy and demure one moment.  And partly because she aint takin' no shit from ya, cool and detached when demanded.  It's a great weapon, sultry and detached, warm and inviting, sometimes all in one line.  And it plays perfectly to John Paul Keith's classic vocal style, a southern twang and Holly hiccup.   We haven't heard such a perfect pairing since George and Tammy, Prine and DeMent, Dolly and Porter.  Their voices entangle into a classic combo of kiss-off and love.

Every track on this EP is perfect, and we can't pick a favorite. 
So..there's that...


John Paul Keith and Amy LaVere: Dearest (mp3)

7. Obnox: Corrupt Free Enterprise LP,  Three Times Dope 7",   Canabible Ohio 2X 7",  Smoke Woody Haze EP


An artist of unparalled brilliance.  Putting Bob Pollard to shame in terms of sheer output, Obnox, (aka "Bim")  has played with both The Bassholes and the Puffy Areolas...not counting his solo and collaborative efforts outside of our linking(which we're gonna cover soon..full credits coming....)....What Obnox does is destroy your speakers with a phalange of sound...from Soul to Hip Hop to Trash and nasty Blues.  Over a slew of releases, Lamont Thomas has redefined expectation, and fucked with yr head, spinning transistor crackle into full fledged rawk'n'roll....Cleveland trashy and dirty, a swim in nuclear water, grooved and filthy, expressway to yr skull....we've got more to say on this cat...but for now...revel, record and rejoice in a singular vision, a singular artist who could give a good fuck about your comfort....Grab every damn rekkid you can....You'll be sorry if you missed 'em....


Obnox: Raindrops (mp3)

6. The Hooten Hallers: Chillicothe Fireball


The day...Deep Blues Fest 2013....Dangerous storms arriving...80 mile per hour winds...an apocalyptic torrent a'comin', like a prophet, shredded rags and oil cloth spill.....The Hooten' Hallers  unplugged from the sparking sockets and proceeded to bash and trash the living fuck out of the darkened, neon-cell phone lit crowd...alone against the raging tide.  The stuff of legend, sure, if the record didn't match the unholy tide...but the record does....kicking corn liquor into the corner, two insane men bleeding for your sins...a holy hootenanny of shouted and drum'n' geetar madness, taking you down the wrong alley, your wallet open and emptied, the echo of  a moment of transcendence buzzing in the transistor of your mind...a gutbucket shake 'n' holler backporch revival. 

The Hooten Hallers: O, Jolene! (mp3)

5. Bloody Ol' Mule: Grady County Kitchen Table Tapes Vol, 1/ A Gentleman In Your Home Of Ill Repute: The Anthology/ To The Delapidated Dreamers All Ghost Like and Dreaming

Shilo Brown, aka Bloody O'l Mule ....one of the most important artists out there...It's hard to keep up with his releases as he's incredibly prolific, with no drop in quality.  Quite the opposite.

As a published author and owner of a bookstore (where we would love to shop...he's got perfect taste), Brown finds the tiniest nuances in place and character, and scans the darkest realms of humanity and finds the core of being.  This carries into his music, a one-man-band of incredible range and power.   From raging cowpunk stompers about "truck stop whores" and booze-soaked bad behavior, to songs about god and the devil, to back porch laments and slow, easy dissections of lost love and desperate times, Bloody Ol' Mule maps the state of life, pushing you to dance the night away and also take solace in the space between moments, those moments when, sitting in yr chair with whiskey in hand, you watch the world at 2 AM...crickets or cars, fire on the mountain, dusty nature, or the blackness of the soul. 

We hope to have an interview and full post on Bloody Ol' Mule up soon...for now, just take our word for it (have we ever steered you wrong?).  Below are two tunes that, while  hardly even close to representative, will give you a taste.

We're not joking when we suggest his importance...This cat's the real deal. 



Bloody Ol Mule: Holy Ghost Power (mp3)

Bloody Ol Mule: Something About Those Pretty Girls Tonight (mp3)

4. White Trash Blues Revival: Now Honey Now Baby Now Listen

The rumor is that the sessions that produced this rekkid was paid for by these cats from Fort Wayne winning a "Worst Band Competition".  We can only speculate what the audience was for that show.  Probably a bunch of REO Speedwagon douchebags.  Editorial on that aside...

White Trash Blues Revival use homemade instruments....The geetar,  (a "Skiddely-bo") is a skateboard  with strings.  The bass  is a broom with rope, played upright, natch.  And the drums are hubcaps, old metal kegs, cardboard boxes,  tinfoil and any other kind of bucket or item to pound on.  And it is glorious.  A tribute to the actual musical skill of the band...transforming into a greasy and highly rhythmic cacophony of rode hard, dick up, pussy wet sweat and shiver party til the break of dawn, the furthest fields of Mississippi plowed under, and tradition respected and fucked with.  The history of the Blues, and numerous other forms of music, is rich with the creation of "at hand" instrumentation.  And these cats carry that scarred and blackened torch forward, the fields on fire.

Again, we can't stress enough the sheer dirty and devil-raising boogie that ensues.

Their live show is becoming the stuff of legend (occasionally joined by "Sausage Paw" of Left Lane Cruiser  on additional percussion (sit back and imagine that!!!!))

This brief record is only a hint at what's to come.  We can't wait...



White Trash Blues Revival: Dimestore Salvation (mp3)

3. T. Valentine and Daddy Long Legs: The Vampire

Last year we named the Daddy Long Legs rekkid, "Evil Eye on You" the best record of the year.  Nothing has changed our opinion on that.  And now they're back...not only back but "backing", as in settin' up the mighty and legendary T. Valentine on this slab of garage r'n'b...deeply sinister, nasty, devilish and greasy in all the right ways.  The band lay down some seriously funky and ground-down swampy grooves to accentuate Valentine's Dadaist rants on sex and the supernatural....the subject not for the faint of heart or the pale of rawk!  A grit-dirty rampage on yr ass, making it move so low down the floor looks like up!  Hands down, thee party record of the year, if yr soul aint dead and yr spirit still moves to the filthy rhythms and hollerin' sleaze of life.  Get sweaty, get juiced, git down!

T. Valentine and Daddy Long Legs: Shake Your Funky A-S-S! (mp3)

2. Georgiana Starlington: Paper Moon

A stunning rekkid...one for the ages...we'll go ahead and quote what we already said about this piece of perfection...

There's a special place in the world for the "burnt desert" song...a world of sneaky rattlesnakes and echoed canyon noir, songs of traveling and dust, the cactus dry yet alive, the kicking vintage truck transporting all manner of bad behavior and innocence freighted belief.  Where the laws of men  inhabit the expected, and the pistol could jam with sand and the Mariachi band is playing not for profit but for survival.  The outpost is an empty tank away, the beer is on ice, melting, and the lizards are scrambling, hissing and flared.  Step into the sepia-toned light, then, with bleached bones and death rattle and cosmic, red-hued hum..Georgiana Starlington.

Not a person, but a band.  The darkest twilight criss-crossed lightning across the plains, finding the patter of a windstorm on vagabond tin-roof porch, beat beat beat the rhythm of safety and danger, lone yet part of the mythology of the West.  Georgiana Starlington is made up of  husband and wife Jack and Julie Hines (also of the mighty K-Holes), along with Daniel Sheerin on  drums and percussion , Andy Curtin on pedal steel, and Vashti Windish on singing saw. Their record, Paper Moon (out on Hozac),  occupies the space inbetween the raindrops.  The curdled muddy footsteps of bad deeds and the sinister sway of hardboiled regret.  Jack and Julie trade vocals, occasionally as cow-noir duets, his voice a bourbon ramble, hers a gauzy gingham chanteuse, and surround themselves with hazy blanched rhythms and sound.  A rumbled sand-surf guitar line, lonesome desperate pedal steel, the keening of a singing saw, midnight church harmonica.  All hymns of hazy, steepled mesas. 

Georgiana Starlington: Dry As A Bone (mp3)

1. Oblivians: Desperation

It's been 16 years since the last blast of snotty joy from America's last great Rawk'n'Roll band.  Jesus.  Really?  You couldn't tell from this record.

The members of the band, Jack'n'Greg'n'Eric (last names "Oblivian" of course) have kept themselves busy over the last 16 years:  Starting an essential record label (Goner, dontcha know), forming a seminal band (Reigning Sound,naturally) and creating killer solo rekkids that seem to make our list of favorites every goddamn year (Jack, of course, who remains my favorite)...it probably shouldn't work, getting back together "officially" (they've been playing together on and off over many years)...but, sweet honey in the rock, it does, oh so deliciously.

We could go on about history 'n' all dat, but that's what the Wiki thing is for (and deserves a full post, not a "brief" record review)...but trying to give a modicum of context...but, who cares?  The record, then...

A sonic blast, buzzing transistor trash, killing eardrums with buzzsaw mud and attitude...fuck the man tribal destructo guitar and teenage thrill.  Each member trading hollerin' vocals over neon-bathroom light punk sneer, walking back alleys with swagger, and sometimes folks forget how soulful the Oblivians can be, inserted into garbage can bashing, the last band at the end of the world.

Rawkn'nRoll, baby...don't get any better...the garage doors open, and the smell of booze and sex seeping into the street, leather jacket with collar up, cigarette dangling, cheapest beer in crushed can, your heart will be broken, but fuck that shit....the soundtrack to every night on the street, middle finger proudly up.  And you're broken-hearted and pissed, smash yr head against the punk rock.

We're sure the band would resist any attempt to label, but maybe calling this a rock'n'roll record will be enough...there's a little Country here, a little soul and r'n'b (all filtered through distortion and snot).  But it's exactly what you need to shake and shimmy and pogo the night away.

Fuck the man, fuck indie lameness, fuck corporate bullshit.  The Oblivians are back, baby, and they're not compromising...Garage/Trash/Soul/Cowboy/Snot/Punk/Rawk...however you want to call 'em...

The best record of the year, not even close..and you deserve this...yes you do.  If rawk is to die, then it dies with this record.  Don't blame the Oblivians...they kicked yr muthafuckin' ass!


Oblivians: I'll Be Gone (mp3)

Thanks...we'll be back soon with more love!

Motel Mirrors

Well...the Holidays (yeah, suck it Palin) are coming up...and regular readers will know what's coming up very soon...so stay tuned.

Got a couple of folks we wanna cover before things get completely insane, so we've got a special Thanksgiving post for ya today and a couple of other posts going forward that we'll mix in with the Holiday madness. 

Forward then...

It's no secret our great love of John Paul Keith.  And he's got a new rekkid out, Memphis Circa 3AM,  that we'll be talking about a little later, and, yeah, it's fucking great.  But you knew that, right?

But, for now, we wanna focus on another record Mr. Keith put out this year.  It's called Motel Mirrors, and it features duets with the amazing Ms. Amy LaVere. 

Some posit that the proper "duet" record is dead, with too many one-song, 10-line "collaborations" and not enough meat.  Motel Mirrors is the perfect prescription for that kind of thinking.

The record is too short, only 7 songs, it's an EP.  That would be our only criticism.  We wanted more.  Much more.  But perhaps that's a good thing.  Always leave your audience hungry.  And hungry we are.  It's a stunner, perfect in it's brevity and astonishing in scope. 

Amy LaVere has a voice that will break your heart, partly because she demands you love her, shy and demure one moment.  And partly because she aint takin' no shit from ya, cool and detached when demanded.  It's a great weapon, sultry and detached, warm and inviting, sometimes all in one line.  And it plays perfectly to John Paul Keith's classic vocal style, a southern twang and Holly hiccup.   We haven't heard such a perfect pairing since George and Tammy, Prine and DeMent, Dolly and Porter.  Their voices entangle into a classic combo of kiss-off and love.

Every track on this EP is perfect, and we can't pick a favorite.  It kicks off with a rager, "Meet Me on the Corner",  a distilled boom chicka tale reminiscent of"Dark End of the Street", but with much more sass (on both parts), taking the meme into a realm that invites both sides, rather than machismo.  "Your Tender Loving Care" continues the theme, with Keith and LeVere trading barbs like guilty lovers clinging.

"Dearest" continues, with lovely pedal steel, island groove, a longing reminiscent of "Love is Strange", yearning and beautiful.  That may be our favorite track...until..."Suddenly You" kicks in, and we believe in Romeo and Juliet, without the weird suicide thing,  Jangly honky-tonk geetar framing the pop of circumstance.

"As Far As I'm Concerned", "The Best Mistake I'd Ever Make Again", and "That Makes Two of Us" round out the rekkid with perfect banter, and vocal play, each poking the expected, yet framed in Country tropes.  Almost subversive, but so perfectly framed by fiddle and pedal, and deep mountain arrangement that we revel in the 1950's innocence and awakening, swelled into the expected and fueled by the modern.

A modern re-telling, then, and Ms. LeVere and Mr. Keith throw down the gauntlet to our expected and take it to another level.  It's the best "duet" record you're gonna hear, going back 30 years. 

Easily one of our best rekkids of the year. 

Amy LaVere has a new record coming out shortly.  We're eagerly waiting for it.

Rock like the end of the world!!!

Amy LaVere and John Paul Keith: Dearest (mp3)

Please support your independent artists!!! 

Hickory Wind

Ok!  Here we go!  The Top Ten Big Rock Candy Mountain Favorite Records of 2011!  Hide yr wives and husbands, cuz we're taking this mofo to 11!  Can you stand the excitement???  Already figured out #1??

A great year of music, fuck cynicism.  The rawk is still alive and well, and we're here to testify!

What will be keen on in the coming year?  Who knows?  Stay tuned!

Before we begin, a final "best of"...

Band of the Year:  The Bunting Pussies!  (we got to see this seminal band in a tiny bar in Brooklyn before the start of the Norton Records blowout.  They've promised a website coming up.  We managed to snag their essential 7" "Wiggle Waggle Woggle b/w "Dickey Pearce"" from them direct, and are absolutely enamored!  Got a chance to talk to singer Lord Fairley McSquat after the show and he's promised a full LP before the end of the year.  The sheer greasy, loud, boozed up energy of this band is like nothing we've heard before.  We're incredibly pleased to have been a witness to their resurgence, and will be covering that 7" and their future LP once it comes out.  Keep yr eyes peeled!)


And, finally, The Top 10!

The Big Rock Candy Mountain Favorite Records of 2011 (part 5 of 5)

10. Juke Joint Pimps: Boogie The Church Down

Hallelujah trash, deep and primal shouting, distorted AM radio filter in robes smeared with semen and sermon the Church of the Blues, baptized holy moonshine water, sanctified by the holy holler, god in the Juke Joint (indeed), shimmy wobblin' the midnight hour, chasin' tail and salvation, and he's taking the devil home at the end of the night.


Juke Joint Pimps: Juke Joint In The Sky (mp3)

9. Reverend John Wilkins: You Can't Hurry God 

From a previous post: "Reverend John Wilkins is the son of legendary blues man Robert Wilkins,  and they say still waters run deep, but the waters are moving like a pentecostal baptismal on fire, and run deep blues, baby.  Wilkins brings a Mississippi hill country trance to the dirty gospel, and Soul, good Soul, where the spirit is lifted and swayed in secular and salvation.  Wilkins' voice, the very sound of repent personified, is the highlight of it all, of course, a lost crackle in heaven's transistor.  At the end of the day it's a road to glory tabernaclin' sweatbox of a gospel record,  sex and salvation swing low, big tent revival meetin' hootenanny.  The path to salvation starts here."


Reverend John Wilkins: I Want You To Help Me (mp3)

8. The Spartan Dreggs: Forensic R'n'B 

Got this record as a "single of the month club" deal, ahead of the regular  regular release.  Some of the vinyl is different from the final product.  That's typical, and very, very, good.  So.  It's Billy Childish.  Every damn year we include a Billy Childish joint in our list.  There's a reason for that...he's one of the most important voices in rock 'n' roll over the past 30 years or more.  Until we turn the man into a million-seller, well, we're gonna keep pimpin'. 


This new incarnation of his is full on rawk, 60's inspired, full of piss and loud as a motherfucker, out of control and singular.  Situationist, but furious and angry, the very essence of punk aesthetic filtered through Huddie Ledbetter and The Sonics.  The best "pure" rawk record of the year. 


 The Spartan Dreggs: Forensic R 'n' B (mp3)

7. The Speaking Tongues: The Speaking Tongues

(Note: proper review coming shortly) Two men.  One big-ass sound, grooved out surge and demon-swilled dirt bombed primal rawk, slide-shit fuck yr mama geetar and satan drummed insanity,  a velocity of hound dogs trailin' garbage scent and filthy blooze destruction!



The Speaking Tongues: Hell Down Below Me (mp3)

6. Left Lane Cruiser: Junkyard Speed Ball 

From our review of the record:  ""Giving Tree"  is the lowest of low down groove, a dirty diamond of rough, aching, swirling James Leg keys back-dropped by muted and fuzzed slide shimmer guitar.  A voice, still growled in pure soul underneath, wounded and in love, lost and rambled, fighting through the sonic din.  It's a stunner of a song, and nothing like we've heard before by these cats.  A revelation.

The rest of the record is high point, followed by high point, nasty (again) and loud, driving and slathered butter'n'pork rawk.  Themes appear...the road ( "Road Again"), as befits their name, and food ("Cracker Barrel", "Pig Farm", "At The Denny's").  That the sheer sonicness of their sound can be fed through an AM radio dial in your '72 Chevy Nova or slapped down on yr turntable when you want yr latest house rent party to get sweaty is a given.  That they've fed the Blues through a blender and come up spittin' nails on the other side is a given.  That what they do to the guitar and drums aesthetic is probably illegal in most states is a given.  That Freddy J IV's vocals are a shattered glass yowl of stomped larynx glory is also, and again, a given.  But what's missed most, and what is most important, is that Left Lane Cruiser is a Soul band.  As informed by Mississippi, they've got a little Memphis in 'em as well.  And, of course, as befits the name, a thousand or more miles of gravel in the headlights and in the rearview mirror."


Left Lane Cruiser: Giving Tree (mp3)

5. James Leg: Solitary Pleasure 

 The mighty lord of the Beelzebub Fender Rhodes and Black Diamond Heavy goes solo, crafting a record of nasty grease and Soul, daddy-o!  The sound of the soul alone, wailing and mud-smeared blown gasket holy rhythm junk-shop destruction.  Sick with clattering sweet and wet spot jackenanny groove, whiskey soaked crusted preacher rhythm and hellfire solitude!


James Leg: Have to Get It On (mp3)

4. John Paul Keith: The Man That Time Forgot 

More review goodness we did awhile back: "We've preached before that Mr. Keith is a songwriter with a timeless brilliance: 2 1/2 minute songs, honky bar-hook-filled and longing, desperate and full of belly up to the bar observation.  It's rock'n'roll, without the pretense, country-fried, soulful, a little boozy, a little trashy, a little bit dance 'til the end of dawn.  Imagine, if you will, that Buddy Holly took the template for "Rave On", and made a long player record with that aesthetic.  Seriously, stop for a moment, and imagine it.  But he didn't.  John Paul Keith did.  And the world is a better place for it.  Oh, and John Paul Keith has better hair than you.

rom the punkish, Summertime Blues jab of  "Anyone Can Do It" to the Here Comes a Regular regret of the title song,  "The Man That Time Forgot" is a bar record, running the gamut from entry to last call .  12 songs.  That's all you need (that's all you ever need).  Especially when they're these 12 songs.  Follow the track listing from braggadocio to reflection, with all the classic moments in between.

Gonna track this record from start to finish.  It's not a "concept" record in any way other than our perception.  But we're gonna work on theme of our own creation, and in the process hope to convince you why this record is a masterpiece.

Kicking off with the raver (all hand-claps, greasy organ, and raving vocal), "Never Could Say No", , and the immortal line "Flying overseas with the Flipside Kid" (a Jack Oblivian reference, who Keith tours with and backs), Keith sets the stage, a willful roue, blaming others for his appearance at said joint.  Follow that with the rollicking,  barrell-house piano two-stepper "You Devil You"  (he sees the girl), and we've got a situation. 

The next three songs set the stage.  The aforementioned "Anyone Can Do It" shows a punkish strut, and "Songs For Sale" is the 50's-informed groover, the sensitive guy laying out his cred.  "Afraid to Look", led by greasy keys, is the dance, the manly man strutting his shit.

But with any encounter, self-doubt creeps, and "The Man That Time Forgot"  weighs in with an early night lighter-raiser, a honky tonk ballad full of ripped guitars and reflection. Follow that with "I Think I Fell In Love Today".  Like Tom Waits' "I Hope I Don't Fall In Love With You" , we're looking at the weird moment between booze-fueled courage and resignation.  But the night is still young...

So John Paul Keith takes a break, and in the garage-country track "Dry County", full of rave-up geetar and hollered backing vocals, we leave the bar with our best buds,  looking for a little balm to heal the perceived wounds.  But, consarnit, we're stuck in a land without liquid refreshment...so, back to the bar, and an atonement..."Somebody Ought to Write A Song About You".  This song is pure Southern Soul, scratched guitar and more greasy organ.  We're back at the bar, and the girl's still there, and our hero wants to transform  his perceived love into the immortal. But...and but...he's "Bad Luck Baby", another surging riposte on condition, and why men are bad, bad news.

Fumbling into the night, then.  another ramped-up organ-led moment, "Work At Night".  Who's he working for?  That's up to you, but DAMN, the band gives us a greasy workout!

And, finally, the most completely Country song on the record, "The Last Last Call". Pure Country weeper. The ultimate barstool lament..."So here's to you and to me". Does he get the girl?  You'll have to find out for yourself. But he's toasting, and we're drinking, and our boots are on the floor, and we're gonna wake up, and probably do it all over again."
 

John Paul Keith: Never Could Say No (mp3)

3. Barry Brusseau: A Night Goes Through

What we said when we reviewed it the first time:  "What Brusseau produced is nothing short of  genius.  Really.  No hyperbole involved.  A shimmering hymn of midnight moon and morning dew.  The record is very much, as it's title suggests, a midnight to six am listen, inviting you into a warm room, your favorite chair facing the window, a bottle of whiskey on the table, and a broken heart mending with each beat.  Brusseau's voice: a lowered, single malt bartione,  whispering in yr ear from behind, urging you into the stars fell night, taking you through the small hours with each hushed prayer. Each whispered line a reflection of headlights on broken pavement.

"Why'd I even agree to come, agree to come
It was probably cause I'm drunk, cause I'm drunk
I haven't shaved my face in months, not in months
The coffee table's mine, can I put my feet up one more time?"

Musically, the record picks and trips and gorgeously wanders, at times stripped and naked, at times delicately baroque.  Each passage is a Koan, a heart-broken melody, strung and neon-lit, the fireflies and the fading campfire, the salvation in yr crackled AM leading home, or at least to the fizzled motel in the end of the world.

"I am tlll and frayed, I'm shaking in and out
And I see the woods, and the rust
Relax, your voice will come sit back and feel the sun
The colors bright and blue, and the warmth"

What is crafted, what you hear,  and what is communicated... a singular vision, a man in the forgotten hours, and the forgotten years, laid bare, a vision of the smallness and grandness of the in-between time, a moment of slipping and catching, while the world is sleeping.  And, while the world is sleeping Barry Brusseau is breathing a sound of the moment between waking and dream.

"Float so high I hear angels sing, hear them sing
Float so high I hear angels sing.  Got stars all over their wings."

Barry Brusseau: Thrift Store Buzz (mp3)

Barry Brusseau: A Night Goes Through (mp3)

2. Molly Gene One Whoaman Band: Folk Blues and Booze


A singular artist, one for whom we are left speechless...shocking, we know.  But, let's try... The mighty voice, a growl to a wail, powerful and full of sin and sex,  riding down the burned out mountain on the nastiest slide guitar and kick-drum racket, drunk on the sound of the end times, shaking the shotgun shack to the ground, churning up bloody dust on the backroads of old, weird America, spent rifle shells littering rusted out floor of a dilapidated pickup truck, moaning cowblues revival.  Full review coming soon, but for now, take our word for it.  You won't be disappointed. 

 Molly Gene One Whoaman Band: Country Lover (mp3)

1. Tom Waits: Bad As Me 

Most of those that know us suggested that we write this review with a mere "Duh".  One word, that reflects perfectly how our, yes, obsession with the enigma that is Tom Waits. They would be correct, in that this is the least surprising pick we've made.  We'd prefer to let Mr. Waits' music speak for itself, but...and, well, but...what has to be recognized is legacy. Nobody wrote a sadder song this year.  Nobody wrote a louder, more abrasive song this year.  A record that defined the past, and, in typical fashion,  looked more forward than any artist was bold enough to attempt.  An old man (as our current definitions would have us believe), who continues to redefine who he is, and who he has been.  No artist has been more willing to search the nature of sound and how it reflects the human condition.  No artist has continued to grow like Mr. Waits, to push the boundaries and retain their singular voice.  Every song on this record is a travelogue, a meeting of having been and will be.  It will break your heart in places, and will stir your soul in others.  It will rattle yr ears, and poke at the hidden places of your sadness.


Tom Waits has always played a "character" in his records.  Very few, least of all us, could pretend to know the true man, lost as we are in his carny barker meets barfly con job.  But what we take from this latest missive is a culmination, a shaking down of mirrors, a shivering and stomping throw down.  When god and satan meet, and the tires are burned off, the rubber melting on the road to who knows when.


 Mr. Waits' management preferred we not post an mp3 sample.  That's fine.  Here's a couple approved videos from his new record.  Just buy the goddam thing, already!








Records are good. Records stores are good.  We're all good!

The Man That Time Forgot

Well, hot diggity dog. Back again, jiggity jig. Let's not mess around, and kick it.

The best band in America has a new record out on Big Legal Mess, and we're here to sermonize.

John Paul Keith should be familiar to most of y'all. I damn near fell out of my chair covering his last record. His new record, "The Man That Time Forgot", may be even better. Really.

We've preached before that Mr. Keith is a songwriter with a timeless brilliance: 2 1/2 minute songs, honky bar-hook-filled and longing, desperate and full of belly up to the bar observation.  It's rock'n'roll, without the pretense, country-fried, soulful, a little boozy, a little trashy, a little bit dance 'til the end of dawn.  Imagine, if you will, that Buddy Holly took the template for "Rave On", and made a long player record with that aesthetic.  Seriously, stop for a moment, and imagine it.  But he didn't.  John Paul Keith did.  And the world is a better place for it.  Oh, and John Paul Keith has better hair than you.

So. The new record, then.

From the punkish, Summertime Blues jab of  "Anyone Can Do It" to the Here Comes a Regular regret of the title song,  "The Man That Time Forgot" is a bar record, running the gamut from entry to last call .  12 songs.  That's all you need (that's all you ever need).  Especially when they're these 12 songs.  Follow the track listing from braggadocio to reflection, with all the classic moments in between.

Gonna track this record from start to finish.  It's not a "concept" record in any way other than our perception.  But we're gonna work on theme of our own creation, and in the process hope to convince you why this record is a masterpiece.

Kicking off with the raver (all hand-claps, greasy organ, and raving vocal), "Never Could Say No", , and the immortal line "Flying overseas with the Flipside Kid" (a Jack Oblivian reference, who Keith tours with and backs), Keith sets the stage, a willful roue, blaming others for his appearance at said joint.  Follow that with the rollicking,  barrell-house piano two-stepper "You Devil You"  (he sees the girl), and we've got a situation. 

The next three songs set the stage.  The aforementioned "Anyone Can Do It" shows a punkish strut, and "Songs For Sale" is the 50's-informed groover, the sensitive guy laying out his cred.  "Afraid to Look", led by greasy keys, is the dance, the manly man strutting his shit.

But with any encounter, self-doubt creeps, and "The Man That Time Forgot"  weighs in with an early night lighter-raiser, a honky tonk ballad full of ripped guitars and reflection. Follow that with "I Think I Fell In Love Today".  Like Tom Waits' "I Hope I Don't Fall In Love With You" , we're looking at the weird moment between booze-fueled courage and resignation.  But the night is still young...

So John Paul Keith takes a break, and in the garage-country track "Dry County", full of rave-up geetar and hollered backing vocals, we leave the bar with our best buds,  looking for a little balm to heal the perceived wounds.  But, consarnit, we're stuck in a land without liquid refreshment...so, back to the bar, and an atonement..."Somebody Ought to Write A Song About You".  This song is pure Southern Soul, scratched guitar and more greasy organ.  We're back at the bar, and the girl's still there, and our hero wants to transform  his perceived love into the immortal. But...and but...he's "Bad Luck Baby", another surging riposte on condition, and why men are bad, bad news.

Fumbling into the night, then.  another ramped-up organ-led moment, "Work At Night".  Who's he working for?  That's up to you, but DAMN, the band gives us a greasy workout!

And, finally, the most completely Country song on the record, "The Last Last Call". Pure Country weeper. The ultimate barstool lament..."So here's to you and to me". Does he get the girl?  You'll have to find out for yourself. But he's toasting, and we're drinking, and our boots are on the floor, and we're gonna wake up, and probably do it all over again.

To reiterate, this is not a concept album, that's our own take on it. What it is, is...another brilliant album from John Paul Keith. Another entry into "perfect record" status. What more can I do to get y'all to worship this cat?

Every song on this record is perfect. You owe it to yrself to own it!

John Paul Keith: Never Could Say No (mp3)

Please support...well...what more can we say, over and over? Buy records from non-corporate labels! Check out shows in yr neighborhood! There's a world of great music, just waiting for you!

And They All Led Me Straight Back Home To You

Important Update:  We Have Received a Take Down Notice from blogger for one or more tracks on this post.  We're pretty damn sure we know which artist was the offended party (hmmm...could it be the major label act?).  But until we find out which track caused someone millions of dollars in lost revenue, we've removed all sample mp3's.  We'll be contacting most of the artists on this list to make sure it wasn't them.  As we find out who's safe, we'll be adding the sample mp3's back to this post.  We apologize for this inconvenience to y'all, and we apologize to the artist who's life we've ruined by encouraging folks to listen to their music.  Again, please check back over the next couple of days for the return of the "safe" music samples.  We'll have a lot more to say about this in a week or so.  And please continue to support independent artists...we're pretty sure they don't mind people hearing their tunes and buying their records. 

And here it is.  Part 4 of our countdown of our Favorite Records of 2010!  This is the Top 10, so brace yourselves for some sonic tastiness.  We're certain we've missed a ton of great records, but that's just how it is.  If we've missed a favorite of yours, let us know.  And, of course, take a look at our previous few posts to see what else we dug this year.

A few  records showed up at our door on New Year's Eve from a notoriously slackerly record label that we love dearly, which was way too late to include in this list, but we're guessing at least one of 'em will show up on next year's list.  And we also have a "mystery" advance CD-R of a record that should be on this list, but that album's  been delayed, and we're not allowed to talk about it.  We promise that once we get the go-ahead from the record label that sent it to us, we're gonna gush like a geyser, so keep yr ears tuned. 


So whatta we got today? One  major label record. Three 7 inchers.  Nine Independent label releases.  A lotta Country and Deep Blues.  Some Trash.  Some Soul.  Albums from some of our favorite record labels.  Yep, that sounds about right for this here little corner of the world.

There's a twist to this final Top 10.  We simply felt a "ranking" in this instance was ridiculous.  How the hell do we discern the difference between, say, a #7 and a #6?  Well, we can't, and we're not gonna do it.  Consider each and every one of the following records as the #1 Record Of The Year.  We might secretly have a personal pick for which of these was our very favorite, but we aint tellin'. 

We've already got the next great record of 2011 on tap, and some long overdue Deep Blues interviews to share, so keep coming back for more.  Here's hopin' this New Year will be a busier time here at The Mountain.  That's our resolution.

And, as ever, most of these tracks are ripped from vinyl.  So take that into account.  

The Big Rock Candy Mountain Favorite Records of 2010, Part 4
The Top 10 (In alphabetical-ish order)

catl.: With The Lord For Cowards You Will Find No Place

A glorious start to our Top 10.  We can't even begin to give this record justice in a mere few written words.  Here's our attempt, when we interviewed 'em earlier this year:

"catl's got some nasty voodoo in 'em, a trio of shakers and shimmy-down low. Swamp-bottom surge and cracked-wall shanty groove, a speakeasy stomp and lord let it rain cuz the devil's in the strings and there's fire in them there fields.

Got a hootenanny on wax, then, a band with a wail for a whisper and sour-mashed guts, preaching the circuit and electric mainline juice flowing the darkest veins. Singer/guitarist catl, himself, breaks down banks of mighty Mississippi, mudded and souled, dirt on the strings from the very crossroads, a voice that yowls and drives, swing low sweet Cadillac. Drummer Johnny LaRue is a tribal leader, pounding and fucking the kit like sex-mad demon, all rhythmic pagan-blues ritual. And Sarah Kirkpatrick rattles and cooks, greasy organ, moon-madness maracas on amphetamines, and called-out vocal response and chant.

It's a shimmy-she-wobble, then, amped and driving, straight to the end of times, baptized in the waters of Babylon, and the lord sayeth, repent."

You really need to own this record.  It's very highly possible that this is our true #1 record of the year.  Just sayin...

catl.: Working Man Soul (mp3)

Walter Daniels and the Gospel Clodhoppers: Harmonica! 7"

You already know Walter Daniels.   Big Foot Chester, '68 Comeback, South Filthy, Jack O'Fire....those are just a few of the bands he's led or been or associated with. 

A masterful and grease-soaked harmonica player, with his feet planted firmly in a mutated Blues and Country tradition, Daniels' body of work is a testament to the underground "old, weird America" aesthetic, grimy'n'dirt-clogged and junk-yard rusted.

On this 7" (which is sold out in vinyl form, but can be purchased digitally here), Daniels enlists the aid of folks like John Schooley, Jeff Pinkus, Ralph White, and the helium-twanged Texacala Jones, for two tunes that shake yr heathen soul back to dirt floor roots.  And sometimes all you need is two songs, the argument for the 7". 

And, yes, the following track is supposed to sound like that . 







 

Guinea Worms: Sorcererers Of Madness (4rd Year In A Row!)

This is a double LP gatefold sprawl of a record.  In the tradition of the old "psych" gatefolds of the late 60's and early 70's, this album is all over the place, and in a very good way.  From murmered grimey trash workouts, fucked-up sleaze, to country-fried blooze booze blasts, a transmission from static AM dashboard flickered neon motel pool cleaner.

A guaranteed classic that folks will be talking about years from now.  Set the lo-fi standard (whatever that is) and dial out the lines, in waves and revolution, between the grooves, the crackled fuzz, the concrete street as kudzu substitute, drop a tab and drop out baby in a frenzy.  The happening now...





 

Halden Wofford And the Hi-Beams: Saints & Sinners

Quite possibly, actually certainly, the best honky tonk band you've never heard of.  Which is a shame, since this band has consistently strode mightily across the floorboards and mountain stages of the West, breaking yr heart and swinging yr ass in a two step old as the hills.  From Halden's hiccuped yodel of a voice, to Ben O'Connor slapped stand-up bass (and occasional vocal), to Bret Billings steel-guitar genius,  the Hi-Beams make Country the way god intended it.

On this record, the band pulls in even more elements to their sound, adding some 70's outlaw hoe-down, sweeping steel-soaked Western balladry, and even an experimental take on the great Americana poets of our time.  But at the heart, the beating honky tonk heart,  this is a sepia-toned, boom chicka thrill of a Country record.  This band deserves to be on every Country lover's playlist.  Do yourself a favor.

We're gonna have a full review, and an interview, coming up.  But why wait?  It's essential.  

Halden Wofford And The Hi-Beams: Mauvais Song (mp3)


Halden Wofford And The Hi-Beams: Till Night Is Through (mp3)

Jamey Johnson: The Guitar Song

Well.  Lookee here.  A major label record.  And worth every goddamn bit of hype thrown it's way.  You had George Jones.  You had Willie and Johnny and Waylon.  You had Townes.  You had Mr. Steve Earle.  You had James Hand and Hayes Carll.  And now, it's Jamey Johnson.  And his name deserves to be in that group. 

There's nothing assembly-line Nashville about this record.  It's a hard-lived, hard-drunk travelogue into the very soul of Country music.  The proverbial bad boy, shit kicking his way to the top with keenly bloodshot eyes cast at life lived.  The music is pure honky tonk, the voice is as aged as moonshine, and the record is a revelation of worn-heart highway pavement.

Seriously, just listen to it.

King Lee (w/Quintron): Tire Shop 7" 

A big slow jam, with yr jacked car jumpin', from the mind of Mr. Quintron and King Lee himself.  According to Quintron, here's who King Lee was:

"He was a man of the streets who lived by his wits.  He would do whatever just to survive. I never knew him to have a real nine-to-five job where he wore a uniform, but he was always around the St. Claude Tire Shop. We struck up a friendship years ago. He has a really great syrupy voice.  When he talks, it's like music."

Yr summer busted radiator, then, a hosed-down, bust tire thumper.  Apparently "all the extra clanky sounds are samples from the actual tire shop"

King Lee w/ Quintron: Tire Shop Part 1 (mp3)

Jim Mize: Drunk Moon Falling 7"

Welll, you know by now how much we love Jim Mize.  With this 7", he's put out the best work of his career, and that's sayin' something.  With last year's #1 John Paul Keith playing along, Mize lays down some stark hardscrabble Country Blues, stripping bare a soul with a howl and laid waste.  The title track, "Drunk Moon Falling" , is a revelatory act of storytelling, heartbreaking and midnight-ready, organ and guitar godhead backdropping Mize's voice and lyrics.  I won't post it here.  You need to own it.  Just do it.  The B-side, "I Won't Come Back Again" is equally brilliant.  Consider it a teaser. 

Jim Mize: I Won't Come Back Again (mp3)

Possessed By Paul James: Feed The Family

Big stompabilly hootenanny, and seemingly personal, a cacophany of punk blooze strum and foot pound rattling.   Banjo madness.  Fiddle de diddle and drop down boogie.  Everything you want for yr Texas sand-blasted fire pit, back porch shindig.

A full review and interview coming up...

Possessed By Paul James: Four Men From The Row (mp3)

Pure Country Gold: Tough Tuesday

Another band we've ranted about endlessly.  For good reason. And this record is prime Pure Country Gold.  Patrick Foss is a Soul singer at heart, and guitar mangler of the highest order.  Jake Welliver beats the drums like Satan on holiday in a brothel, primal and full of rhythmic lust.  But don't take our word for it.  Take our word for it from a previous post: 

"Pure Country Gold is pure trash. Tasty, nasty and loud. And sleazy. Sleazy like the barroom floor at last call, you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here, and who're you gonna pick up to take home for a quick rut just to say your weekend wasn't a total waste, burning sensation be damned...Yeah, it's that good. ...It's complete (glorious, sonic) junk masquerading with a name designed to confuse. But, they've got that sensibility, if you know what we mean...Imagine some urban cowboy wandering into a local jukejoint only to be faced with this glorious racket, shit-amped guitars through busted speakers, some guy hollerin' wounded goat over the bluespunk mess. Feller would probably crap his Lee's...Hyper-amped, garage-fuelled, amphetamine muckity muck. "

Man, this record's gonna kick yr ass.

Pure Country Gold: Wasted Day (mp3)

Ten Foot Polecats: I Get Blamed For Everything I Do 

We reviewed this earlier this year.  I don't think we could say it any better now.  If you don't own this record, what's wrong with you?

"The record kicks off with a couple of defining tunes.  "Chicken Headed Man" is a T-Model Ford (who they've played with) joint that the Polecats own, paying both homage and laying down a gauntlet, beat this, motherfucker.  Chilson's guitar is a surging travelouge of juke-floor shanty hypnosis,  Scheffler intones a bourbon-braised bbq yowl, and Darling is tribal Spam, spare and primordial.  They follow this burner up with "So Good To Me", a swaying, gauzey, mud-bottom drone of a love letter ("you make me want to be good...so good to you baby"), late-nite booze pleading and booty call-ready.

The template is set, and the record rockets on from there.

Travel is a common theme, with tunes like "Tears On My Windshield" (a Mississippi raver),  "Couple More Miles" (a lights on the empty highway, 2 A.M.,shimmered ,hypnotic and menacing beauty..."you can't do what I do/and expect everybody to like it"), and one of our favorites, "Big Road", which races like smokestack lightning past lakes and rivers lit with oil-stained fire.

Tracks like the "I'm Going Crazy", "Bar Hoppin",  and  "Dryspell" are the logical conclusion to the mystery of where Punk and Blues met, and what crossroads they found themselves at, each song a raging, amps to 11 swirl of R.L. Burnside meets Howlin' Wolf meets Hank Williams meets The Sonics meets Billy Childish.   Yet doesn't sound like any of 'em, leastaways not any of 'em by themselves.

Throughout the record guitarist Jim Chilson gives a fuckin' clinic on the greasy, fried frenzy 6-string dragger, from meditative, open-spaced Southern back-road space-blues like "So Good To Me", "Brokenhearted", and "Couple More Miles" to tight-fisted trashcan clap-trappers that take up the rest of the record.  He's a man to watch, as he feels each groove, seemingly in his very soul, sweating out each electified, gutter trash, shattered string-fest.  And Jay Scheffler's vocals are a revelation, channeling Howlin' Wolf in his most primal and menacing, a glass-gargled whiskey glass of Blues 'n' Booze need and desperation, alternately pleading and demanding, full of the vinegar of life and the very love of loss.

Goddamn!"

And goddam, indeed.  Check it out...both songs.

Ten Foot Polecats: Big Road (mp3)

Ten Foot Polecats: Couple More Miles (mp3)





There you have it.  Hope y'all approve, and support the artists, whether through record sales or a live show or both.  We'll be back with more good shit shortly. 

Six Pack of Love

Gettin' ready for our favorite season, Autumn, and a post of one of our new-found favorites, but figgered we'd offer up a quick little 6 Pack (plus one) for yr weekend record shopping...erm...listening enjoyment.

But first...We want your opinion!  After the world-wide success of our Top 100 Drinking Songs, we think it's about time for another definitive list, one in which there can be no argument!  So, we're thinking of two options...Top 50 Cheating Songs or Top 50 Hangover Songs.  What do you think, faithful readers?  Which list is most appealing?  Of course we'll be looking for a few good women and men to help us judge, and we'll be looking for a ton of suggestions, whichever the pick is,  so keep that in mind.  Here's the deal, we need you vote in the poll to the left to help us decide which list it'll be.  Once the poll closes, we're gonna start begging y'all for judges and song suggestions.  Feel free to start either of those options now, of course.

Alright, alright.  That done let's kick out a little vinyl goodness in the form of our semi-regular Six Pack series, where we select some random killer tunes culled from our vinyl collection.  You know the drill.  So let's go. (oh, and we might have a bonus track...cuz that's how the kids roll these days...). 

Mountain faves Del Reeves and Billie Jo Spears team up for a truckin' and truck stop love song.  You just know we're all over this shit.  And how about Tom T. Hall givin' it up for a little sanctified lust?  Mmmm hmmm.   

Jim Mize has a new 7" out which features maybe the best song of the year, "Drunk Moon Falling".  We're not gonna give that to you.  You should really own that record (it's cheap!).  But the B-Side, "I Won't Come Back Again" is pretty fuckin' fantastic too.  And it's only a teaser to how great the A-Side is.  Seriously, if you buy the 7", which you deserve as a music fan, and can prove that you've got it (shame on you for not owning a record player), we'll send you an mp3 of the title song.  It's well worth yr goddam time.  Oh, and Mountain favorite John Paul Keith plays on the track...so you know it's good.

Jack Oblivian...well, damn.  It's Jack Oblivian.  Can we preach his glory more on this site.  Just listen to the goddam track and go out and grab the catalog.  It's worth it.  This is from a 7" put out by Vice Records.   

We have no idea who the Coal Diggers are.  They're a polka band that we found a random record for in the bins.  If you find one of their records, grab it, dammit.  The song is a brilliant distillation of  a band on the edge of alcoholic indulgence.

And then we've got a psychedelic "God" song from a record commemorating the ultimate "Jesus People" experience, "Jesus Sound Explosion".  Just sit back and revel in the early 70's attempt at "hipster nowness".  The song is pretty fuckin' great, all divine soul groove.  Also, for fans who ever read all the "christian" Archie comics...you know who you are.

Finally, it's our boy Robert Mitchum, waxing road weary and boozy.  We love Mitchum as an actor, he's one of our fave raves, but on his musical recordings, he's transcendent.   A Country tramp, an Exotica beatnik, a man with a past and future uncertain.  Damn, he's a swell hobo in spangled Hollywood lights, aint he?

So, that's seven songs in this Six Pack.  Well, don't tell us we aint generous.  Call it a Baker's Dozen in "take home" lingo. 

Evey song is a classic.  Collect 'em all.  Why be selective?

Del Reeves and Billie Jo Spears: Baby, Ride Easy (mp3)

Tom T. Hall: The Little Lady Preacher (mp3)

Jim Mize: I Won't Come Back Again (mp3)

Jack Oblivian: The Lone Ranger Of Love (mp3)

The Coal Diggers: Don't Throw Beer Bottles At The Band (mp3)

Armageddon Experience: One Way (mp3)

Robert Mitchum: Gotta Travel On (mp3)

Please support yr local, independent One Hour Motels.  Good times.