Six Pack by Six West

 Big news!  Mark yr calendars for May 7th at the Abbey Pub in Chicago IL. for a little mini-fest in celebration of Robert Johnson's birthday (yes, his birthday is probably the 8th, but it'll be the 8th by the time we're done with the show, so settle down).  The event is co-sponsored by yours truly, The Big Rock Candy Mountain,  in conjunction with main man Tony of The Black Oil Brothers.    Full lineup will be announced shortly, but if you're a fan of this here site, you're gonna be jealous if you don't make it.  Just sayin'.

We're gonna have some actual record reviews and whatnot shortly, including a review of the nifty new Exene Cervenka record, and an interview with one of our favorite record labels.  Just in case y'all thought we forgot.

But today, we'd like to welcome back our world famous Six Pack series.  Six nifty little tunes plucked from our lovely vinyl collection, unadulterated by filtering systems or whatnot.  If it pops and crackles, well, that's just a bonus. And, hey, these are meant to be teasers.  We always encourage folks to check out the bands and their rekkids. 

So whatta we got today?  Oh man, we got some tasty shit. Let's start off with Australia's The Ooga Boogas (featuring members of Eddy Current Suppression) and a slightly Pavement-esque ramble of a tune, keeningly lovely, sad, and funny (from the 7" single of the same name).  "Party Life" by King Hannibal starts off with the line "...You know there was a pimp by my house the other day...".  And it slow-soul burns from there (from his record "Truth").  Then we've got Rob K. (of the Workdogs) and one-man trash king exraordinaire Uncle Butcher with a nasty bit of garbage blues stripper sleaze, "Cat Walk" (taken from their collaboration, "Dictionary of Cool"). 

Breathe for a moment, and then dive into the campfire country sounds of Texas Tea, and their tear-in-my-beer hoedown, "Whiskey and Wine", off their rarities collection "Fire Sides/Last Drinks".   Then, a little Hank Snow never hurt anybody, and his record "Tales Of The Yukon" is a fine example of his Western-via-Canada storytelling, particularly his cautionary tale, "The Face On The Barroom Floor".  We've all been there, I'm sure.

Finally, a bit of  Franco-style pop-psych, courtesy of The Liminanas.  More to say on this band, and their new record shortly.  But it's a fucking great song and record, so there's that.

As ever, the following tunes are in no order as far as quality goes.  Check 'em all out! 

Six Pack by Six West

Ooga Boogas: Sentimental Stranger (mp3)

King Hannibal: Party Life (mp3)

Rob K. and Uncle Butcher: Cat Butcher (mp3)

Texas Tea: Whiskey and Wine (mp3)

Hank Snow: The Face On The Barroom Floor (mp3)

The Liminanas: Chocolate In My Milk (mp3)

Please support yr local independent retailers.  Please consider buying record...they're pretty nifty, sound great, and encourage bands to take a chance that corporately-funded cd's just can't match.

Oklahoma Hills

Hey, now!

Since the last one was a gangbusters success, we're gonna do another in our series called, conveniently, The Greatest Song Ever Written (At Least For Today).  Again, this is where we highlight a song, for the sake of the song.  No wordy exposition.  No Mountainesque rambling.  The song is the star.  Of course, we always encourage folks to support the artists' (or their legacies) involved.

Boasting on of the best Country and Western (stress on the Western) melodies this side of Hank Snow, "Oklahoma Hills" might have been written by Woody Guthrie.  Or possibly his cousin Jack Guthrie.  Google-sleuths can determine for themselves. 

A jaunty, swingin' little Western number, time lost and travellin' long.  Featuring one of the greatest choruses ever written.  Takes you back, and stomps yr boots on the dust-scarred wooden floor. Yodel yr horse on down the trail between the canyon and the valley.  Lay yr blanket out under stars shining only for you.

Jack Guthrie: Oklahoma Hills (mp3)

Hank Thompson: Oklahoma Hills (mp3)

Johnny Bond: Oklahoma Hills (mp3)

Marvin Rainwater: Oklahoma Hills (mp3)

The Mountain is a strong supporter of independent kickers, pickers, and cowboy angels. 

A Night Goes Through

One of the things about doing a site like this, one that has been around a long time, by blogging standards, is that we get a decent about of press inquiries about coverage.  Some of these inquiries are absurd (no, we don't want a copy of the new Lady Gaga or Justin Bieber records, thank you very much), some are kinda awesome (thanks to all our favorite record labels for noticing us).  But most of the inquiries are from unsigned or fledgling artists, folks who are trying to get a foothold into the music scene, who are looking for a way to get their music heard, and who have labored with love over their records.  We haven't been very good about covering some of these artists, but we're gonna make a conscious effort to improve on that, and do our best to spotlight bands and artists that deserve wider  coverage.

And we're gonna start with a stunner, a record that blew us away, and has demanded many repeated listenings.  The record is called "A Night Goes Through", and it's by Barry Brusseau.

We spend a lot of time encouraging folks to support independent music, and you don't get better or more independent than this.  

"Sittin' back and drinkin in the cold breeze, I close my eyes
And listen to the sound, of cars go rushin' by
The sun is in my face, it sits low in the sky
Autumn is the place where summertime can die"

Before we dive into the tunes themselves, a little something about the man and the album.  Brusseau contacted with an offer I couldn't refuse...a copy of his brand spankin' new vinyl record.  Well, we can't have enough of those, so I greedily agreed for him to send it along.  Glad I did.  It's one of the most beautifully packaged albums in recent memory.  More on that in a moment.

"We're only halfway home, I wouldn't leave you alone
Looking warm and stoned, now we just let go"

Brusseau made his early musical bones in punk bands The Jimmies and The Legend of Dutch Savage.   Feeling a pull in a different direction, Brusseau began composing quieter and more personal songs, playing them out on demos and even open mic nights, perfecting the songs through each experience.  Putting aside 50 bucks a paycheck for over two years, he began  to record and assemble "A Night Goes Through" for an eventual vinyl release.  The full story, and it's a very good one, can be found here, at his website.  It's definitely worth checking out, particularly for anyone looking to branch out into recording for themselves.

"And we made our plans,
and we made our demands
But it's here I stand
a disappointed man
We set our sights so high.
In The Blue Flame Sky
Forgot these dreams could keep,
forgot these dreams could fly."

What Brusseau produced is nothing short of  genius.  Really.  No hyperbole involved.  A shimmering hymn of midnight moon and morning dew.

In Brusseau's words:

" I grew up loving records. Coming home after buying one, and reading everything inside and out. Holding it while listening, and letting my imagination run wild. I decided that’s what I wanted to do, make the kind of record I would have loved to get...  Now the heart of this record is the music, but the soul of it is in the senses of sight and touch. It's really hard to achieve the same aesthetic in any other medium."

From the beautiful and haunting cover by Rachel Blumberg to the heavy stock lyric cards (a card for every song, accented by hazed and pinholed photos), to the heavy vinyl, to the sleeve, every tactile experience is heightened before you even pop this on the turntable.

And then there's the music itself.  Which makes everything come together beautifully.  And beauty, even the dark kind, is what defines this record.

"Well you don't think you burn as bright, as bright as I,
But from the morning till the night, you burn up the sky
The sordid sins, of the splendid sinners
Let them all come on in"

Let's get the reference points out of the way first:  Richard Buckner, Jackson C. Frank, Nick Drake.   Add to to that a strong New Zealand streak, particularly Peter Jefferies and his brother Graeme Jefferies (Cakekitchen, in addition to his solo work). 

But a great musician is not, of course, their influences.  They are themselves.  And Barry Brusseau is very much his own voice.

"If I run away will it fade away?"

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."

We've avoided listing individual songs in this review.  Each tune demands its own experience, and to single out a single missive does the record injustice, as we believe you will find your own way through to a favorite track that speaks into yr ear.  We've quoted many of the tunes throughout, and feel that welcomes you into the record.   If we've failed, let us know. 

The following songs were ripped from the vinyl, and at a low bit-rate.  We want folks to feel like they've heard something from the record without feeling like they own the record.  The phrase "labor of love" is bandied about quite a bit, but, in this case, it's true.  You can buy the vinyl here.  (it includes a download card, so you can have the vinyl and the mp3's all in one).  Christ, it's only $10.  You can also download the record from that site as well, if you're not keen on the whole "vinyl" thing.  Our dream is to help sell out the entire vinyl stock that Barry Brusseau has pressed, even realizing he takes a loss with each record sold.

This is your chance to support a truly independent artist, and to hear one of the most heartbreaking albums  of this year, and years past, and years to come.  C'mon people! 

"It's the simple songs that make the night go through
The effort it takes is small and true
Honey why can't this song be like you"

Barry Brusseau: Thrift Store Buzz (mp3)

Barry Brusseau: A Night Goes Through (mp3)

Seriously, please consider buying this record.  You won't be disappointed.  And you'll be supporting a true independent artist.  Thanks.

C'mon Through Carolina

So...here's a new feature we're gonna try 'round these parts.  We make no guarantee how often we're gonna do it, nor are we gonna apologize if we end up doing it quite a bit.  So, there's that.

For lack of a better title, we're gonna call it "The Greatest Song Ever Written (At Least For Today)"  Catchy, innit?   Essentially, while we're listening to rekkids or whatnot, a song'll catch our ear and cause us to dance around the place like an idjit, or maybe just sit back, sip a whiskey and revel in the sadness or the beauty or the sheer brilliance.  Any number of reasons, really, why a tune will strike our fancy.  Maybe it just makes us laugh.  And maybe the song doesn't really ask for any more explanation than to be heard.  So, these will be, ideally, short 'n' sweet.  Let the song be the post, as it were.  As ever, we encourage ya'll to support the artists involved.

Our first entry is a ragged and glorious little stomper from the mighty American treasure, Tom House.  The song is a ragin' barnburner, and just wait 'til the got-damn fiddles kick in.  You'll be hollerin' down yr hallway, kickin' in doors and swingin' off the stars!
 
Tom House: C'mon Through Carolina (mp3)

Please support back porch music and its musicians. 

Wasn't Born To Follow

Written by Carole King and Gerry Goffin, with The Byrds version featuring prominently in the film, Easy Rider,  "Wasn't Born To Follow" is a William Blake via Henry David Thoreau composition of mystical vision and lost canyons, a statement of the solitary and the natural, turned and tossed by restlessness and tranquility.

For all it's metaphysical lyrical quality, the base music itself is, at heart, rooted and roaming.  A sound of disappearance and open space.  There's no wonder that this tunes translates so well to a Country sound, as evidenced by its numerous covers.  Obviously, The Byrds have the seminal version, the one we all know.  But Uncle Tupelo (from a live bootleg) and The Sadies do it fine justice as well (oh, and there's a really nifty Memphis-esque Soul version done by Dusty Springfield...hunt it down)

Somewhere in the great American desert a parched and dusted Harley still flies with the wind...

Oh, I'd rather go and journey where the
Diamond crescent's flowing
And run across the valley
Beneath the sacred mountain
And wander through the forest
Where the trees have leaves of prisms
That break the light up into colors
That no one knows the names of

And when it's time I'll go and wait
Beside the legendary fountain
Till I see your form reflected
In its clear and jeweled waters
And if you think I'm ready
You may lead me to the chasm
Where the rivers of our visions
Flow into one another

And I'll stay awhile and wonder
At the mist that they've created
And lose myself within it
Cleanse my mind and body
And I know at that moment
As I stand in that cathedral
I will want to dive
Beneath the white cascading water

She may beg and she may plead
And she may argue with your logic
Mention all the things I'll lose
That really have no value
Though I doubt that she will ever
Come to understand my meaning
In the end she'll surely know
I wasn't born to follow

Uncle Tupelo: Wasn't Born To Follow (mp3)

The Sadies: Wasn't Born To Follow (mp3)

Western Stars

Hey, look!  A new design at the Mountain!  How exciting.  'Course, it's a work in progress, so we'll be tweaking over the next week or so.  And, hey, if you don't like this design, check out our mirror site over a wordpress.  It's probably a good idea to bookmark that link anyway, in case the man takes us down 'round thisaway.  Just sayin'...


Whelp, it's just about that time for another one of our world famous "mixes".  These should probably deserve their own national holiday, I 'spect, in light of their sheer, well, you know, awesomeness. Yep.

We started off as a country site, and country is still our primary love, dontcha know.   So, there you are.  And here we are. 

And, yes, we do have a peculiar fascination with late 60's and early 70's countrypolitan  music, especially it's interest in the Southwest as a mecca.  And, yes, we're obsessed with Moe Bandy, Dean Martin,  and Hank Thompson.  Thanks for askin'. 

A Big Rock Candy Mountain Western Stars Mix
(Link to mp3 follows track listing, of course)

1. Get A Little Goner (Marti Brom)
2. She Came Around Last Night (Kurt Wagner and Cortney Tidwell)
3. Take Your Foot Out Of The Mud...(Walter Daniels)
4. Love Revival (Mel Tillis)
5. False Friends At The Bar (Jim Ringer)
6. Big City Hooker (Stan Farlow)
7. Let The Church Roll On (Lucille Barbee)
8. Laying Out All Night (Tony Joe White)
9. Calling All Cows (The Blues Rockers)
10. Hello Saturday Morning (Lee Hazlewood)
11. Grinnin' Like A Possum (Bawlin' Like A Hound)  (Boots Faye and Idaho Call)
12. Watermelon Time In Georgia (Lefty Frizzell)
13. Down On The Farm (Big Al Downing)
14. Rio Grande (Mitchell Torock)
15. The Train With The Rhumba Beat (Johnny Horton)
16. The Devil In Mrs. Jones (Billy Larkin)
17. Lovin' Country Style (Big Bill Lister)
18. Night Life Queen (Hank Locklin)
19. Heaven's Just A Sin Away (Kelly Willis)
20.  A Girl Don't Have To Drink To Have Fun (Wanda Jackson)
21.  Bright Lights And Blonde Haired Women (Hank Thompson)
22.  I Just Can't Leave Those Honky Tonks Alone (Moe Bandy)
23. Houston (Dean Martin)
24. Is Anybody Going To San Antone (Charley Pride)
25.  Here You Come Again (Billie Jo Spears)
26.  My Benny's Wearin' Off (Tom Hyatt and the Black Mountain Boys)
27.  Some Of Shelly's Blues (The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band)
28.  Honky Tonk Queen (Bobby Hankins)
29.  Pale Moon (Hal Lone Pine and Betty Cody)
30.  West Texas Waltz (Emmylou Harris)
31.  Waltz Across Texas (E.T....hidden due to some cranky label anality...but you know who it is)
32.  Don't Let The Stars Get In Your Eyes (Skeets McDonald)

Western Stars Mix (mp3)



Please support yr local, independent honky tonk.  If you don't have one, make yr own.  Nuthin' beats a Saturday night hoedown! 

Lost My Mind

Left Lane Cruiser have a new record out, Junkyard Speed Ball.  You need to own it, and we'll tell you why below.

Have we mentioned Deep Blues Fest 2011?  Oh, we have?  Well, get used to it.  'Cuz we've got much more to say, and we expect each and every one of you to make the trek.  We'll give you some free shit.  How can you refuse?  Oh, and Left Lane Cruiser are gonna be one of the headliners.  And, of course, we interviewed Left Lane Cruiser awhile back.  Check it out before reading further, if you're so inclined.

But we're here to talk about the new record, which is a filthy sounding slab of corn-punk blues, a rhythmic and greasy scrap heap of groove and buckshot barrel loaded raceway boogie.   Junkyard Speedball  kicks off with "Lost My Mind"... a wheezed out dust blown harmonica, gasping for air over drummer Brenn "Sausage Paw" Beck's insistent kick drum.  11 seconds of that and then guitarist/vocalist Freddy J IV blows the whole moonshine still to shit heaven with the nastiest henpeck slide geetar, rollicking ferociously down the burnt-out twisted backroads, Beck's drums suddenly in a martial manic frenzy.  Freddy J IV's vocals come blasting in, a wilderness soul howl and quake, the last prophet, voice seared in rye and chaff.  The song is a pounding raver, slink-shimmied and sleaze sliding.  Most bands couldn't match this over an entire record, and this is just the first song. 

Mostly, Left Lane Cruiser is a two-piece, which works brilliantly for them.  But on this record, they're joined on four songs by the very Reverend James Leg (of the equally essential Black Diamond Heavies) and  his prodigious Fender Rhodes keys.  "Cracker Barrel" is the raver amongst his contributions.  Of the other three,  "Pig Farm"  is the late night regret song, "Hip-Hop" is the deep funk epic, a mix of loping dirty beat, fuzzed guitar, and 70's night shift piano workout, and "Giving Tree" is the masterpiece.

"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. 

Junkyard Speedball is the record.  Left Lane Cruiser is the band.  We can't recommend 'em highly enough. 

 Left Lane Cruiser: The Giving Tree (mp3)

Left Lane Cruiser is gonna be here in Chicago on March 12th, at Morseland.  If yr in the area, come check 'em out, and say howdy.  We'll be there, supporting independent bands, locales and ideals.

Sun's Come Up

How's the big fun snow treatin' y'all?  Still diggin' out a week later here in Chicago...

Speaking of Chicago, how 'bout taking a listen to the Windy City's very own hill-boppin', trash-tonkin' band, The Dyes?  We've got an interview with 'em below, but here's our humble take on their new, self-titled record first.

 Led by wailing yodel-cat Lisa on vocals and guitar, Jill on bass, and Charlie on drums, The Dyes are a manic rawkin',  hellcat jamboree of a band.  Fueled by twin tower love of the Cramps and Wanda Jackson (the good stuff), this records sweats yr swishin' tail in circles, octane-blasted and swagger-honked cow punk.  

Reeling around balled jack trash-holler like opener "You Still Get Around", "Just Forget About Me", and "All Through the Day", The Dyes lay down a creepified junk can fuzz of gin and moonshine rave, amped trailer park scuzz twanged into meth-sped hayride oblivion. 

Contrasting, then into blazed tumbleweed noir like "I'll Leave" and "I Don't Know", The Dyes rollick into the open prairie, wagon wheels rolling wobbly and deep into the coyote-howled groove, dusted by miles and canyons open.

And slow, then, when the moon appears, and the embers are a-lit, The Dyes take you into a sepia-toned grass-singed lowdown.   Crackled old-timey sounds of AM transmission, still-watered sounds of lament and bad things gone wrong, the transistor buzz and hum present in sleepy regret.  Songs like "Don't Toy With My Heart",  "Your Love Has Turned To Hate", "Don't Pass Me By", and, particularly, "Sun's Come Up"  rake the bottom of the heart and find the will to carry on.

But, in the end, the record is sex.  It's everywhere you look and hear, the heartbeat of the album.  You can hear it in vocalist Lisa's tossed off put-downs, the fuck you and fuck me swing in her delivery, and the timbre of her astonishing cowgirl/trashwoman voice.  You hear it in the deep, deep bottom of bassist Jill's rumble,  tribal and twanged.  You even hear it in the filthy, primal pounding of drummer Charlie's rhythm attack.

Is it a Country record?   Is it a Garage record?  Well, yes.  Yes it is.  Both and none and all.  It's just a great fuckin' record.  It's pretty much everything you come here for. 

The Dyes were kind enough to answer a few questions for us.  It was a band effort, and resulted in one of the best interviews we've conducted.  Enjoy!

A Big Rock Candy Mountain Interview with The Dyes

Big Rock Candy Mountain:  First, tell us who you are, and what kind noise do you make?  Where do you come from and why are you?

Lisa: The Dyes are Lisa- Guitar/Vocals, Jill- Bass, Charlie- Drums and other odds 'n ends. We make the kinda noise that some call "Garagabilly".. also have been told we sound like Wanda Jackson singing to The Cramps. We all come from the Chicagoland area (we formed in high school in Westmont to be exact- home of Beanie Babies and Muddy Waters).

Charlie:  Our sound was probably forged by trying to play rockabilly music to high school kids - to keep their interest we had to crank up the volume and tempo.

BRCM:  Who are your influences?  What hum buzzes between The Dyes' ears?

Lisa:  My main inspirations are Hank Williams, The Cramps, and the Flat Duo Jets, among other too-many-to-name rock'n'roll, blues, and country obscuros.

Charlie:  I'll listen to anything that moves. Recently it's been mostly Motörhead and Deerhoof.

Jill:  As Charlie mentioned, I’ll pretty much listen to anything that moves, especially if it keeps me movin’ too. I’ve always been really into blues, especially early delta blues. If I dig deep enough, I feel like that achy, hypnotizing vibe is the root of most of my influences.

BRCM: You mix a variety of sounds in yr latest record.  We hear a distinctive garage/trash influence feeding into a very distinctive honky tonk influence, jumbled up and pureed in a high-speed blender.  Do we hear incorrectly, or are these the primary sounds that  inform The Dyes?

Lisa:  I suppose that is an accurate translation; You can hear both of those in our influences (i.e. The Cramps and Hank Sr.)

BRCM: What is the band's drink of choice?

Lisa: chocolate milk.

Charlie: double whiskey coke no ice.

Jill: If you place it in front of my feet and to the left of my amplifier, it’ll be my drink of choice that night.

BRCM: In this day and age, location is everything.  What type of audience do you draw for a Dyes show?  You're based in the Chicago area...do you find a receptive crowd in Chicago, or do you find a more receptive crowd outside those confines?

  

Lisa: It always depends. Things are never consistent. Wouldn't say we have the biggest "rockabilly scene", but things like crowds and scenes vary all the time. We've got some loyal fans and have met and befriended some great people and  bands in Chicago and elsewhere on the road that we wouldn't trade for the world. But it seems like a lot of things are lacking in this day and age if you're out playing music. Just gotta keep on trucking and either way we have a good time doing it.

Charlie:  How receptive a crowd is usually depends on what night of the week it is, but Tulsa, Austin, and Kalamazoo were pretty wild.

Jill:  Certain cities react differently to live music than others. Can’t really blame Chicago for having one million things going on every night of the week - it’s hard to keep up with, for anyone! It’s always a treat to go out on the road and play for smaller, tight-knit scenes who are excited when an out-of-state rock n’ roll band comes to play for them.

BRCM: What's your best live experience?   Worst?  What can we expect from a Dyes show?

Lisa: We played a Santacon event in Kalamazoo, MI which was a recent epic endeavor. It was great; a room full of drunken Santas. I mean FULL. An endless sea of Santas dancing around and  sloshin' their pitchers of beer all over the place. We also played New Year's Eve opening for Los Straitjackets. That was a ton o fun!

Usually during a Dyes set, Charlie plays the drums like the Muppets' Animal, Jill and I sway back and forth a bit to the music, and as a grand finale we both crouch down and pee in Charlie's mouth. At the same time.

Jill:  Haha! I’ll never forget when we played in Tulsa. It was at this hole-in-the-wall bar, two nights after my Jaguar bass got stolen in San Antonio, and it was the last night of the week long tour. Exhausted and depressed over my loss, I was barely in the mood to keep rockin’ and rollin’. I borrowed a bass from a friend-of-a-friend in town, and went at it anyway. By the end of the show, the entire crowd was on “stage” dancing with us. This kid to my right was convulsing like a madman; eyes rolled back and in desperate need of a straitjacket. That show was the definition of what rock n’ roll should be and the reason why I do what I do.

BRCM: How long to the top, if you want to rock'n'roll?

Charlie:  We're not at the top yet, so we wouldn't know. I'm gonna guess there's no bagpipe solos there though.

BRCM: Generally, you're a three-piece.  How does this work in terms of songwriting?  Is there a shared songwriting aspect?  How are your songs formed?  Do your songs draw from real life, or are they based on an observation of outside influence?

Lisa:  Our songs have primarily been fueled by my teenage laments about man troubles. All of the songs on the last CD were written when I was 17-20 years old, and 95% of 'em are true. That's a big part of it; rock'n'roll should be motivated by either the groin, the gut, or heartache.  Especially rockabilly. The thing about rockabilly that gets to me is the raw gutteral growls, frantic shouts, and hiccups that permeate through the music. It's a very urgent, desperate sound, and  the subjects usually directly address something like love or violence. It was and always will be teenager's music, and it's influence really helped me
 get through my tender years and channel these kindsa emotions.

The songwriting process usually goes like this: Lisa'll come up with the bones of a song, the lyrics, guitar, and structure, and then bring it to the table at practice. Then Jill and Charlie'll chime in and start playing along with whatever they think sounds good, adding the rest of their delicious meat and potatoes. Then together we work out any kinks, throw out suggestions, and it sticks.

BRCM: Turbo-charged or economy?

Charlie: I think this is car terminology. But I don't drive, so I'm stumped.

Jill:  It’s true, The Dyes consist of two female drivers... lookout!

BRCM: What song most defines the Dyes aesthetic?

Lisa: That always changes in my mind, but right now it's "Sun's Come Up".

Charlie:  We have performed "Wild Wild Lover" by Benny Joy at almost every show  

  we've ever played, so I'll go with that. 

Jill:  “Wild Wild Lover” is the staple for a grand finale of a Dyes show. “Mean Mean Man” (Wanda Jackson) has also been a favorite cover to play as of lately... As far as originals go, there’s always been something really haunting and heart-achy about “I’ll Leave”, and the reverb/feedback speaks even louder than the words to me.

BRCM: If you could play with one band or artist, living or dead, who would that be?

Lisa: Southern Culture on the Skids, Wanda Jackson, Dex Romweber, uhh.. too many!

Charlie: I think we'd make a good backing band for Yoko Ono personally.

Jill: Miss Jackson, if you’re reading this, won’t you play with us? Won’t you? Please?

BRCM: What's next for The Dyes?  Recording?  Touring?  etc. 

All of the above! We’re eager to get back on the road, as always, and we’d ideally like to do some overseas touring as soon as possible. We also do a biannual Cramps tribute show (Lisa starring as Poison Ivy, Jill as Candy del Mar, and Charlie as Nick Knox) with our friend Matt McVader of Thee Invaders (based here in Chicago) as the late, great Lux Interior, and Augie Barnhart of The Muddy Udders (based out of Green Bay) as Bryan Gregory. We’ll be doing that at The Exit punk bar in Chicago on March 10th for the Psychobilly Spring Fling Pre-Party. We’d also like to film another music video!

Phew!  That about sums it up then.  Take a listen, and then go buy their goddam record!  Have we ever steered you wrong?



The Dyes: Sun's Come Up (mp3)


The Dyes: You Still Get Around (mp3)

Please support your local independent whatever.  Seriously.  Buy local when you can, consarnit!

 

When The Devil Calls

Major announcement today!!!!  First, a few similarly related items:


-Alive Records have announced three upcoming records that y'all should be a-twitter about:  T-Model Ford and Gravel Road's "Taledragger",  Left Lane Cruiser's "Junkyard Speed Ball", and James Leg's (of Black Diamond Heavies) solo rekkid.    Man, 2011's already setting up to pretty keen.

-The new record by Black Pistol Fire is way, way better than anyone had any right to expect.  It's killer, no less.  Highly recommended.  

-The new Wanda Jackson record is terrible.  Embarrassing, even.   Just poorly executed, with bad choices made on instrumentation, arrangements, song selection, etc.  I blame Jack White, naturally.  He did a great job on the Loretta Lynn record, but this is just really undeserving of Wanda Jackson's great legacy.  Ugh.  Might get around to a proper review shortly (or not), but do yourselves a favor...Pick up Wanda's brilliant back catalog, and avoid this new travesty altogether.  Just sayin'...

Now then....the big announcement!  The Deep Blues Festival is Back!  

Yup, after a year off, the Deep Blues Festival is back in 2011.  It'll take place on July 16th, in Cleveland Ohio, at the great tavern,  The Beachland Ballroom.  It'll be at the obscenely low price of $20 for 12 (or more) great bands!  There's an Amtrak station in Cleveland, and hotel fare is cheap, cheap, cheap.

The Deep Blues Fest was the brainchild of his very godfatherliness, Chris Johnson, and enjoyed several years of amazing festivals in the Minneapolis/ St. Paul area.  We were lucky to have attended the last DBF, in which our minds were blown by such artists as T-Model Ford, Black Diamond Heavies, Left Lane Cruiser, Ten Foot Polecats, Pure Country Gold, Bloody Ol' Mule, Illinois John Fever, The Speaking Tongues, Reverend Deadeye, Robert Cage, Elmo Williams, CeDell Davis, Mississippi Gabe Carter, Jim Mize, Chooglin', and tons of others.  It was, as I've elucidated elsewhere, a glorious event.

And then...silence.  The event was not attended in numbers that could support the vision.  It was a shame.  To a fan such as I, it was depressing.  People would overpay for corporate events such as Lollapalooza and Coachella, but would ignore events that took us to our primal roots like the Deep Blues Fest.  What to do?

Chris Johnson went on to open up a BBQ and music joint, Bayport BBQ.  Which, frankly, sounds like a year-long Deep Blues party, and a place we are planning a road trip to this summer.  The Muddy Roots Festival stepped in and provided an amazing festival diversion, and did it very, very well.  But, and but...the tag "Deep Blues Festival" was missing from the radar...

And then came Jim Chilson of the Ten Foot Polecats and Ted Drozdowski of The Scissormen,  who banged their heads together and decided that it was time to revive the Deep Blues Festival, and take it into uncharted territory.  With Chris Johnson and Rick Saunders (the Jesus to Chris' God) assuming spiritual advisory status,  Jim and Ted have assembled a superb lineup of bands and artists, guaranteed to kick yr ass, and have forged ahead with the Deep Blues ecstasy.

We can't wait.  And there are more plans afoot after this...

We hope everyone stopping by here will consider attending The Deep Blues Festival 2011.  We're working on some special promo's for the show (free stuff!), but the music should be the primary focus.  This is a labour of love, consarnit, and a howl against the blandness of yr regularly scheduled "sponsored" music fest.  Tickets are cheap, and go directly to the bands, hotel lodging is cheap, transportation is cheap (if you take the train, which all Blues lovers should be keen to do), and the music and night will be priceless.

If you can't make the show, please consider making a donation to the Festival.  All money donated goes right to the bands...this is a "socialist" enterprise, of sorts.  No one is making money off this but the bands themselves.  So please..come and enjoy some great music...keep the movement (whatever that is) alive.  Donations can be sent here.

We're gonna be featuring each of the bands over the next many months as we work towards the Festival.  And we're gonna have some exclusive Big Rock Candy Mountain shit to give away to folks who attend or donate, so stay tuned. 

To start off, you can download some Ten Foot Polecats tunes from a previous post here.  As a bonus, here's a couple of tracks from The Scissormen. 

We're gonna have full posts and interviews with all the bands scheduled, over the next 6 months, so stay tuned...

The Scissormen: Whiskey and Maryjane (mp3)


The Scissormen: When The Devil Calls (mp3)

What more can we say?

Let The Redeemed Say So

Time to get sanctified today, with our first proper entry of the New Year, and with a record that's sure to keep your turntable warm throughout the winter and all the way to the end of the year.  Oh, yes indeedy.  Our first great rekkid of 2011!

But first, we would advise folks to bookmark our new mirror site.   It's still under a bit of construction, but if for some reason this here site disappears due to recent crankiness by the major labels and their attack on music fans, we've taken precautions to have an alternate site to go to.  Again, and we can't say this enough, please update yr bookmarks.  This here "blogger" url will remain the primary site for the time being, but one never knows. 

Now then, when we say we're gonna get sanctified today, we aint just whistlin' hosanna past the graveyard.  The almighty Big Legal Mess has got a new record out by the one and only Reverend John Wilkins.  It's called "You Can't Hurry God", and it's whole big mess o' hallelujah stomp. 

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. 

Kicking off with the slow burning, Hammond-tricked  title track, "You Can't Hurry God", the record proceeds to rocket to heaven on the subsequent track, "Jesus Will Fix It",  just about a mover, rhythmic and fish-slapped trap kit drums, scratched and bbq'd geetar slinking around like a bad sin.  And Wilkins voice is a holy Blues prophet, grizzled and hollerin', soulful and muddy rooted.  God moving along the face of jukejoint, and the slow surging monster of the Mississippi. 

The record continues to roll and tumble from there...classics such as "You Got To Move" and "Prodigal Son" mystify and swirl, shake yr ass and kneel yr knees, quivered and backslid.  Chicken-clawed ramblers like "Let The Redeemed Say So" and hypnotic back-porch ruminations like "Thank You Sir" add to the mystical mystique, calming the wheat and raising the cane, the chaff whipping in the wind.  Sing me back home, indeed. 

The highlight, in our humble opinion, is "I Want You To Help Me",  a surging, Hammond-greased masterpiece of deliverance,  all groove and swayback holler, a party in paradise, where the lights are low and the altar is in neon, and the dirt floor trampled by epiphany.

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.

We're callin' it early, but if there's one album you buy this year...well, just listen to the track below.

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

Please support yr local, independent Big Tent Revival.