December 2019
Stocking Stuffers
Looking for some last-minute gifts for the holiday season?
You can’t go wrong by giving the gift of music. Here are some things to check
out.
OMG, I have a new band to add to my favorites list: Che
Apalache. The name roughly translates “My Appalachian. In Spanish, che is
an interjection and can mean different things but this American/Argentinian
band definitely has the Appalachians in mind. It is a Buenos Aires-based string
band consisting of Martín
Bobrick (mandolin), Pau Barjan (banjo), Franco Martino (guitar), and Joe Troop
(fiddle/lead vocals). Troop is a North Carolinian by birth and a guy whose
voice immediately puts one in mind of the late Ralph Stanley. Che’s latest
album Rearrange My Heart is meant to be taken literally. Troop
leads Southern gospel call-and-response/four-part harmony songs that challenge
Americans to live up to their ideals. “The Dreamer” tells the tale of Moises, a
boy whose mother crossed the border illegally with him and his sisters in tow.
He grows up as an “American” kid who loves games, baseball, dogs, church, and
waving fields of corn–until the INS takes away his family. When Troop sings, Only
when we take a stand/Can we heal our broken nation, all I could say was
“Amen, brother.” “The Wall” is
about that wall. It is deeply inspiring and watch the linked video the
whole way through to see how it brought down the house at a Colorado bluegrass
festival. Che Apalache play some straight up bluegrass and have an affinity for
standards, but you also hear them venture into Argentinian music, as on “24 de Marzo,” a mash of a waltz, tango music, and innovative meanderings the likes of
which Béla Fleck favors. (It comes as
little surprise that Fleck likes this band.) “New Journey” is another inventive
piece. It begins as a fast-paced instrumental bluegrass breakdown, wanders into
jazz-influenced spaces that spawned the term “newgrass,” and eventually segues
into a quiet, simple song that is hopeful, though its subject is coming to the
end of one’s days: My spirit soars/Basking in gratitude/Buoyantly floats in
the wind. Give Che Apalache a serious listen and when you’re not sashaying
about, you too will be shouting “amen.” ★★★★★
Brighter Day is the 11th album from progressive
folk/Americana artist Forest Sun. He certainly sports a pretty amazing bio. He
lives in San Francisco now, but hails from Glens Falls, New York. As a kid Sun
learned to juggle from Wavy Gravy and entertained Rory Block with his
6-year-old songs. Before his mother met his father, she dated a member of the
Chambers Brothers. Mom also heard Pete Seeger and Joan Baez sing in an uncle’s
living room and made sure her son knew of folk royalty. Cool, but how does Sun
sound on his own? Fabulous, which is why he’s opened for everyone from Bonnie
Raitt and the Beach Boys to Steve Earle and Keb Mo. In my estimation, others
will soon be opening for him. Brighter Day has a passel of
relationship songs and is wide ranging in style. I absolutely adored “All This
Freedom,” in which he asks what are you going to do with all this
freedom. Sun’s strong voice echoes the accents of his guitar and is fleshed
out by some slide guitar and backing female voices. The title track looks at
matters of the heart from the honest standpoint of trying hard but knowing I can’t
always take the high road. “Clarity” feels so familiar that maybe it’s
universal: Clarity where have you been/At this late hour you come waltzing in… These three are
more folk in nature, but “Hearts Beat and Take a Beating” and “When Will I See
You Again” are acoustic country, “Morningbird” is reminiscent of an Appalachian
trad with backwoods gospel influences, and “If Our Time is Over” and “Just
Someone I Used to Know” owe a debt to blue-eyed soul. I’m also a fan of the little
ditty “Little Mountain,” another that feels like a rediscovered traditional.
You even get echoes of reggae in “Baby Don’t Worry.” And if you need some
uplift, check out “One Candle.” ★★★★
Blue Water Highway is a working-class band from Texas
that’s a mélange of rock, country, and Americana. It’s fronted by Zack
Kibodeaux who, along with Greg Essington, and Catherine Clarke crank out some
tight three-part harmonies and grooves on guitar, keyboards, bass (Kyle Smith),
and percussion (Jared Wilson). Speaking of grooves, one of the songs on Heartbreak
City (Stripped) is titled “Groovin,” a pop/rock song
featuring hand jive-like percussion, soulful vocals, and Clarke’s texturing
organ notes. Other recommended songs include “Best Friend,” the band’s first
single; the moody jazz-influenced title track; the catchy hand clap “Believe
the Light,” and “Rebel,” which has the feel of Neil Young done up as a soul
singer. For me, the keys really add depth to the group. My favorite song is
the tender-but-melancholy “North of LA,” a song about the one who got away.
Clarke’s piano rains down the pain for Kibodeaux lyrics such as: If you’re
ever north of Los Angeles/Tell me if you see her… ★★★★
Bradford Loomis titled his newest release Where the
Light Ends an apt title. In quick succession, he lost his job in
Seattle during the ’09 recession, then his home, and had to scrape to care for
both his father (early onset Alzheimer’s) and his wife’s puzzling ailment (that
turned out to be celiac disease). But, as he puts it, “There is such a thing as
good grief.” As you can imagine, Loomis has stories to tell.” “Treading Water”
is a song he calls “emotive angst” but like much of the album, it’s a
come-out-on-the-other-side song with the hopeful line I’m not drowning, my
love. Loomis often gets tagged as an Americana rocker, though that’s
probably because he has a seriously big voice and now lives in Nashville. His new
record falls into the singer/songwriter category as well as it lands anywhere.
You’ll hear a pastiche of styles. “Righteous Kind” is a shuffle, “Rambling Man,”
a gritty ramble in which he describes himself as “walking in another man’s
shoes;” “Take a Swing,” a soulful exploration of the tension and anger that
induces fear and paralysis; and “Wayward Son” a drone-like direct take on
poverty, and a slanted commentary on how it globalizes: Blessed are the poor
in spirit and makers of peace/All the refugees cry, but we’ve turned the other
cheek/When the children make war with bitter scorn/For those whom they should
seek… Did I mention that Loomis can turn a neat phrase? ★★★★
Because the music
industry is saturated with buoyant young things hoping to make it big time, it’s
a rare pleasure to encounter a mature woman with a grown-up voice. Eileen
Carey once had a single titled “Good Bad Girl” and that’s a good way to describe
the content of a repertoire that’s a
mélange of country, pop, and rock. She’s been a mom, has done video work, has
crusaded for animal rights, and insists on playing music her way. In other words,
she’s been around long enough to write her own script. Two songs from her EP The
Lost Tapes tells us more about Carey. “That Town” is backed with grungy
guitar, but the song itself has pop rock hooks throughout. Its content is about
leaving a town you know you must put in the rearview mirror: That town’s got
nothing on me now/If you look both ways I’m not there. Carey is originally
from Ohio and now lives in Los Angeles. Contrast the previous song with
“Hollywood,” which is bouncy, showy, and upbeat. The first song is suggestive
or a middle finger waving bye-bye; the second a love letter filled with homage
wordplay. The sheen of that one contrasts with the nasty breakup country pop
“Anything That reminds Me of You,” which references tossing out clothing, destroying
love letters, sweet valentines you can stick where the sun don’t shine,
and a defiant promise to burn your memory out/I’m gonna curse your name all
over this town. It is the flip-the-cover alternative to her hopeful “MeetMe Halfway,” which should not be confused with a song by Black-Eyed Peas.” If
you don’t know Carey’s music, you should. She also has a new album titled Finally
that I’ve not yet dipped into, so more on that one anon. ★★★★
Short Cuts
Grace Potter has
come a long way since she was Waitsfield, Vermonter precocious teen with a
voice that sounded as if it couldn’t possibly come from someone that young. These
days she fronts killer bands and puts on slick shows, but thanks to Paste
Studio session she did in September, we can hear some stripped-down material. “EveryHeartbeat” is a good one to hear some of her vocal ornaments, especially those
unexpected catches in her throat that add depth and contrast. “Shout It Out” is
country music, but is much smokier and soulful than the usual humdrum. Potter’s
acoustic guitar lulls us into a quiet place until she gives it a strong
downbeat and airs out her voice on So shout it out/If you know this is the
end/I don’t love you/Just ain’t the kind of thing you say under your breath….
If you’d prefer a softer landing, try “Love is Love.” 
I’ve saved something really special for last. Vintage Trouble is
an aptly named Los Angeles quartet (sometimes quintet) that takes us back to
the days when rhythm and blues was raw and raunchy. I’ve seen reviews comparing
VT to the Rolling Stones, the Animals, and Chuck Berry. Nah! Try Wilson Pickett.
Vocalist Ty Taylor is a volcanic force of nature, and electric guitarist Nalle
Colt is pretty damn good as well. Listen to Taylor cover “Rocket Man” and you
might be tempted to trash your old Elton John albums. Taylor goes softer with a
soulful weepie “My Whole World Stopped Without You.” But if you really want to
hear (and see) what Taylor can do, watch the official video of “Pelvis Pusher.”
Yeah, it’s a bit risqué and sexist but, Taylor is incredible. Check with a
cardiologist before seeing these folks live!
Rob Weir
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