Lookin' For A Thrill

Hey, folks! Musical extravaganza today, featuring a band we've been dancing around over the last 10 months, and some bonus tunes to rev y'all up for the weekend.

But first, check out this image:



More on that next week.

Next, some cool news for the weekend, for those who are in the Chicago vicinity. The Saturday (November 14th) our lord and master, dirty-R'n'B god Andre Williams. will be premiering his brand new...book, "Sweets" at Phyllis' Musical Inn! According to Norton Records (who are releasing the book), "Andre will read, rally, and respond to questions from the peanut gallery, followed by an all-Andre DJ blast with John “Mr Wiggles” Phillips." Oh my. We'll be there, along with some special guests. And it gets better. Once that's over, we'll be motoring over to Duke's Hideaway for a late night sleaze-blues set by Mississippi Gabe Carter and Uncle Walt Carter (no relation). Damn, it's gonna be a swell night, and it's possible inebriation will occur. Anyone in Chicago should make this a priority engagement!

Phew.

With that out of the way, we'd like to draw you're attention to one of the best damn bands in the land, John Paul Keith and the One Four Fives.

As we've said earlier this is a post that's been simmering for awhile now. We have not been able to stop listening to their record, Spills and Thrills (the original pressing) since the beginning of the year, and it may very well be our best record of the year. Yeah, it's that good.

John Paul Keith hails from mean streets of Memphis, Tennessee, and was, once upon a time, and for a brief period, the guitarist for the V-Roys. You can find his biographical info here.

What matters is how his current incarnation, John Paul Keith and the One Four Fives sound.

Imagine, if you will, the world's greatest Country bar band channeling the ghost of Buddy Holly, throwing it into the garbage can, shaking and stirring with equal measure trash, Bakersfield, and hiccuped Crickets southern soul. Filter it through a strainer of sugarcane fields and street grime, add a dash Hollies-mania to the level, and top with a healthy dose of bourbon.

John Paul Keith, his very self, is a lyricist and guitarist of timeless brilliance, shiny twangster and gutter-snipe troubadour of love, hope, lust and loss. Each song is a blistering, 3-minute how-do-ya-do of rock bliss and dos-i-do hayride, chased by the mystery train straight off the tracks. Your midnight mover and early morning shot glass served sweet and sour, dirty dish-rag included.

Oh, and "Lookin' For A Thrill" is the best song of the year. Yep.

We'll have much more to say about this record at year's end, obviously, but beat the rush and check it out now. You deserve it.

The John Paul Keith tracks are ripped from vinyl, and come from the Spills and Thrills LP and the "Knoxville Town" 7". The bonus tunes are from CD. Sorry about that.

John Paul Keith and the One Four Fives: Lookin' For A Thrill (mp3)

John Paul Keith and the One Four Fives: Memphis Girls (mp3)

John Paul Keith and the One Four Fives: Smoke In A Bottle (mp3)

Bonus tracks

Andre Williams: Bacon Fat (mp3)

Mississippi Gabe Carter: Big Fat Woman (mp3)

Please support you local, independent Telecaster-slinger.

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!

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!

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!

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!!! 

Drifting Along With The Tumbling Tumbleweeds

Well, we almost made it under the year's end radar. Today we've got the final round of our Top Albums of 2009. We're ecstatic to present our Top 10. Hope y'all enjoy.

As ever, there's a ton of great records that didn't make the cut, or we just haven't heard, so let us know what we missed.

Coming up after the New Year we've got our Favorite Re-Issues, a note about some significant deaths, a Chris Knox tribute (who's very much alive, thankfully), A Bassholes retrospective, some more Deep Blues Friday interviews in the can, and a whole bunch more, including a whole pile of Country stuff (remember that?). Oh, and a big announcement and a complete re-design. Busy little beavers, aint we?

And for those looking for a random Best of the Decade list, we're really not going to do it. But we'll give you the following, without comment:

Band Of The Decade: Yo La Tengo

"Solo" Artist Of The Decade (and a half): Richard Buckner

Record Of The Decade: Will Oldham and Rian Murphy: All Most Heaven E.P.

Make of that what you will.

As ever, most of these songs in our Top Albums of 2009 were pulled from vinyl, when possible. That's just the way it is.

Enjoy, argue, rant, etc.

The BRCM Top Albums Of 2009, Part 4


10.

Strange Boys: ...And Girls Club

Imagine if Bobby Dylan were a Scotchguard-huffing laddie lad. Bunch of damn kids get off my lawn nonsense, snotty and over-sexed joyride. Forget your Spin-approved teen angst emo bullshit, this record is for the boozed up punk-ass bitch in all of us. Togas and sailing caps optional. Damn, we love this record. Over and over again.

Strange Boys: This Girl Taught Me A Dance (mp3)


9.

Almighty Defenders: Almighty Defenders

King Khan And BBQ Show: Invisible Girl

Mark Sultan: Hold On 7"

Mark Sultan: I Am The End 7"

That we're madly in love with King Khan is a well-documented fact 'round these parts. So it's pretty fuckin' great when we get a year in which his partner in crime, Mark Sultan (aka BBQ) manages to outshine the King. Not that Khan's a slacker, as he manages to kick his brand of garage/funk/sleaze into the stratosphere on the gospel-inspired trash-fest that is the Almighty Defenders LP (with Mark Sultan and members of the Black Lips) and on the doo-wop, bubblegum sexploitation masterpiece Invisible Girl (again, with Mark Sultan as BBQ). But it's Sultan who steals the show on these records, his fuzz'n'scuzz approach leading the proceedings.

But then, Sultan releases a couple of essential 7"'s that showcase his versatility as a solo artist, cracked love songs as garbage genius, soul melody in a blender.

Oh, and here's what we wrote about the Almighty Defenders LP a couple of months ago: "...The album was recorded in a rumored booze-fueled few days, while the 'Lips were in exile at King Khan's house in Germany (while hiding from Indian authorities due to bad behaviour). Whether the details are true, or the stuff of myth'n'legend, doesn't matter much, since the record is a swirling mess of deep soul handclaps, hootenanny stomp, gristle-encrusted guitar sleaze, praise-god-hallelujah-let's fuck hollerin' goodness. It sounds like there's a party going on in god's pants, and the boys are the band at the end of the world."

The Almighty Defenders: All My Loving (mp3)

The King Khan and BBQ Show: Invisible Girl (mp3)

Mark Sultan: I Hear A New World (mp3)

Mark Sultan: I Am The End (mp3)


8.

South Filthy: Undertakin' Daddy

South Filthy. Featuring Walter Daniels, Msr. Jeffrey Evans, Jack Oblivian, John Schooley, Earl Poole Ball, Ralph White, and a host of others. What else do you need to know?

Well, this record is the kind of rural countrybluesrawk goodness that pretty much defines the entire aesthetic we've forged here at Big Rock Candy Mountain. If we had a house band, it'd be South Filthy.

Still not enough? Daniels and Evans are in particularly fine form here, their down from the mountain brand of hillbilly blues careening wild manly around some classic covers and originals, bred by backroads and shotgun shacks long abandoned and rife with wilderness mash and moonshine still. Honestly, it's the very stuff that jukejoint dreams are made of.

South Filthy: Goin' Down South (mp3)


7.

Phosphorescent: To Willie

Again, we really can't add anything to what we wrote earlier: "...Many have covered Nelson's songs over the years (he did start out as a songwriter, after all), but few have transformed those songs quite the way Phosphorescent does. The tunes allow Houck (Matthew Houck, Phosphorescent main man) to fully explore the Country'n'Western star long bubbling as underpinnings to his previous records, but still retain his unique persona. The fiddles and banjos and pedal steel guitars and the tightly structured three and half minute verse/chorus/verse nature of Nelson's writing push Phosphorescent to into a new territory, where he thrives.

Of course, there's always song selection, and the choices Houck makes seem tailor-fit. "Reasons To Quit", "Pick Up The Tempo", "I Gotta Get Drunk", and "The Party's Over" could have been written specifically for Phosphorescent, ruminations and late-nite regret.

It's hard to call a "covers" record a masterpiece, but this is no "covers" record. Phosphorescent makes these songs his own, forging the "olden times" with the new, the past with the future. It's a stunning transformation, both of Houck's own style and template, and Nelson's eternal grace and observation. What "To Willie" really does is miraculous. It makes you forget, for a time, the originals and becomes a new-created thing, posterity be damned."

Phosphorescent: I Gotta Get Drunk (mp3)

Phosphorescent: The Party's Over (mp3)


6.

Willem Maker: New Moon Hand

The loneliest of sounds, a man with a guitar, bared and barren across a desert shined under distant glow of oasis or dream, the sands ever shifting and carrying a traveler beyond his fears and into a deeper well. Maker (aptly named) makes a noisome blues, chords of repetition ripping god from the heavens, mesmerized and hypnotic, then firing shots of buckshot sonic age into the sky. Maker's voice a whiskey honed thing of dusty beauty, every word and utterance a tale, lived and loved and lost, from howl to murmer.

Willem Maker: Stars Fell On (mp3)


5.

Left Lane Cruiser: All You Can Eat

Quoting myself again "...Left Lane Cruiser kicks up a howling fuzz of dirt road holler, a hard-scrabble blues-punk blast created by messrs. Freddy J IV (Guitar, Vocals) and Brenn "Sausage Paw" Beck (Drums, Trash, Hollerin'), straight outta Ft. Wayne, Indiana. Somethin' aint right with these boys, and that's good. Mmmm mmmm good.

Somewhere there's a world where Left Lane Cruiser is blasting out of every '72 Chevy Nova and broke-ass VW van, the road a bleared smudge in the rear view mirror. Drums that burn down bridges full of oil and fire, a guitar fucked into submission with god shining his face across six strings of hillstomptrash skull-fuckery. Above it all a voice all cracker-ass kick and wail..."feed me, baby, and I'm yours".

It's filthy Delta swamp debris,washed ashore and hitchhiking it's way to the heart of last night's ramble."

Left Lane Cruiser: Ol' Fashioned (mp3)


4.

James Hand: Shadow On The Ground

James Hand had our Album of the Year back in 2006. This album's almost as good. Hand is perhaps one of the last of a dying breed of great Honky Tonk singers and musicians. Hand plays a continually rarefied form of hard Country, one passed through mountain water and Texas dust, a twangy and hiccupping yodel traveling the darker roads where lonesome has lost the ability to cry. Hand can sound as old as the hills, filtering a strain of deep Southern Gothic, but the songs he writes are timeless, both in subject and the ability speak across years.

This record, like his previous one, is a pinnacle of all that is good about Country. No one else these days comes close. Really.

James Hand: Midnight Run (mp3)


3.

Bob Log III: My Shit Is Perfect

Well, it's Bob Log, innit? Whether you're a fan of Doo Rag, Bob solo, or both, you sorta know what to expect.

A man in a jumper and some sort of space/motorcycle helmet, with a kick drum and six-string slider in tow. One man band? No. A one man sleaze blues shit kicker and ass pounder? You be your sweet patootie.

Bob Log doesn't come to bring you peace and love. He comes (and comes again...) to shake your boogie, party in your pants, fuck your shit up, and drink your boob scotch. If your soul was raised on back road stretches of shanty shacks and corn liquor stills, 50-cent strip clubs and 25-cent peep shows, hot-buttered possum carcass and outhouse moons, then Bob's yr creepy uncle.


Bob Log III: Goddamn Sounds Good (mp3)

Bob Log III: My Shit Is Perfect (mp3)


2.

Bassholes: ...And Without A Name

Some other, lesser, band has stolen the phrase "blues explosion" for itself. The Bassholes sound absolutely nothing like that band. Not a bit. But that phrase probably fits the band better than the current owner. It should be noted that The Bassholes have been doing what they do since 1992, and singer/guitarist Don Howland was also a member of The Gibson Brothers (with South Filthy's Jeffrey Evans) for many years before that, going back to 1986. Just sayin'. We're working on a longer Bassholes retrospective later this month, so we'll leave the history lesson alone for now.

This record is loud. Fucking loud. And full of guttural howling and nasty, filthy guitar destruction. It's sheets of primal, Delta-spewed caveman noise. Drummer Bim Thomas is a force of pounding, spit-soaked mania, and Howland is at his very best, the preacher in the storm, circuit-riding, muddy from the long black road, foaming and rabid, rising from the silty bottom of the darkest river, singing the devil's hallelujah with the weight of whiskey and woe.

This is, apparently, a protest record of sorts. What the protest is, is up to you. We have our own ideas.

The Bassholes: (Don't You) Look Sideways At Me (mp3)

The Bassholes: (I Like) Smoke and Lightning (mp3)


1.

John Paul Keith And The One Four Fives: Spills And Thrills

John Paul Keith And The One Four Fives: Knoxville Town 7"

(Caveat: This was released in a very small, independent pressing in very late 2008. But it got it's "proper" release this year via the mighty Big Legal Mess...so it counts, dammit)

A while back we wrote a post on "the perfect album", and how that phrase is bandied about way too much, and very few records actually deserve that tag. We don't throw out the term "perfect" very much, if at all. We don't believe we'd call any of the other records we've listed here this year, or in previous years' lists as "perfect". Close, particularly in the case of James Hand's "The Truth Will Set You Free", but not quite.

"Spills and Thrills" is a perfect record.

Earlier this year we wrote "...Imagine, if you will, the world's greatest Country bar band channeling the ghost of Buddy Holly, throwing it into the garbage can, shaking and stirring with equal measure trash, Bakersfield, and hiccuped Crickets southern soul. Filter it through a strainer of sugarcane fields and street grime, add a dash Hollies-mania to the level, and top with a healthy dose of bourbon.

John Paul Keith, his very self, is a lyricist and guitarist of timeless brilliance, shiny twangster and gutter-snipe troubadour of love, hope, lust and loss. Each song is a blistering, 3-minute how-do-ya-do of rock bliss and dos-i-do hayride, chased by the mystery train straight off the tracks. Your midnight mover and early morning shot glass served sweet and sour, dirty dish-rag included."

We had the opportunity to see the band open for, and serve as the backing band for, Jack Oblivian earlier this year. The set further cemented our belief in their genius, a rollicking night of sweaty rock'n'roll played as salvation.

If you like Rock'n'Roll, Country, Blues, Soul, Trash, Garage, Rhythm and Blues, Pop, or any kind of music with a guitar and voice, then this record should sit proudly on your shelf...no, better yet, on your turntable. Don't take it off. Just leave it there. You don't need anything else. If you don't like any of the above...well, you're probably dead from the waist down, and the waist up. And there's really no help at that point.

Our best record of the year, then. And years before and to come. The gauntlet is laid down. Better it, if you dare.

John Paul Keith and the One Four Fives: Lookin' For A Thrill (mp3)

John Paul Keith and the One Four Fives: Memphis Girls (mp3)

John Paul Keith and the One Four Fives: Smoke In A Bottle (mp3)

As ever, in this New Year, please consider supporting your local, independent businesses. Fight the man, man.