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. 

Two Six Packs Away

Welcome back, happy campers.  Let's get 2011 goin'

Most of our links in our final Top 10 list for 2010 are back up.  We've narrowed down the culprit that led to our DMCA takedown notice.  We'll have more to say about it shortly.

Workin' on a post about the first great record of 2011.  Should be up early next week (we're gonna try real hard for at least a couple posts a week...see how long we last..).

But until then, and for yr wintry weekend, how about a quick Six Pack of tunes guaranteed to keep yr vehicle veering round the icy interstate?

Yeah, this is pretty irresponsible, but what the hell.  Let's let these folks take you down  down a wobbly highway, white lines blurring, and eyes all a'twitter.  What do we love best 'round these parts?  Well, here ya go...

Dave Dudley: Two Six Packs Away (mp3)

Tom Hyatt and The Black Mountain Boys: My Benny's Wearing Off  (mp3)


Hank Thompson: A Six Pack To Go (mp3)

Willis Brothers: Alcohol and #2 Diesel (mp3)

Gary Stewart: Caffeine Nicotine Benzedrine (And Wish Me Luck) (mp3)

The Byrds: Drug Store Truck Driving Man (mp3)

Let's hope MADD aint payin' attention...Please support yr local.  If ya know what we mean...

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.