Clyde Webb is a dude from Moscow, Idaho. Homeboy has been in alot of musical projects and runs Captain Crook Records. His main thing is his folk-punk solo project under his name. I met him on the internet and was intrigued by his photos. Then I heard his music and got pretty stoked. He makes some real ass songs about real life shit. He just put out a new record which is his best release yet. I'm still listening to it, but after hearing a few tracks I was down as shit. I mean, anyone who has a song about feeling like shit when you think about your ex-girlfriend sucking someone else's dick is okay in my book. Check out all his albums below, add him on facebook (unless you are in the cult), and check out his label. Some real cool shit on there too. I talked to Clyde and he was asking me for blogs to send his music to, so if you have a blog or anything and want to post his music up he would be hella down. Support Clyde when/how you can. Word.
Most of you are probably very familiar with Pygmy Lush by now. The project has grown to be the most popular of any post Pg. 99 project. In a career that now spans three full length albums and 4 years, as well as tours with groups like Des Ark and Ghastly City Sleep, Pygmy Lush's steady output and presence has made them a mainstay in the DIY scene which most of them have been a part of for over twenty years.
They are infamous for their "loud" and "quiet" sets, with fans often left wondering which band they will see that night - a loud, raucous rock and roll band, or a dynamic folk group. 2007's Bitter River, their debut record showcased both the band's distinctive, and very different, sounds. Lately, the band has embraced mainly their folky side. Their last two LP's contain no "loud" songs, but their excellent offering on their side of 2009's split with Turboslut showcases some of their best material, both loud and soft. Their newest offering, 2011's Old Friends was recorded with Des Ark's Aimee Argote serving as a back up singer/musician on a few of the songs (she is pictured in the photo of the group above), and may be their best recording yet.
Tuesday night's show in Baltimore at the Golden West Cafe on 36th St. came on the heels of an all day recording session with J. Robbins of Jawbox fame. The band was apparently recording a version of "Serve The Servants" for a Nirvana tribute compilation. I missed the first band, Big Mouth, so I can't really say anything about them. Bad Biology played next, a really great kind of grimy, rock and rolly hardcore band featuring members of a couple of other Baltimore bands. It was their first show in about 6 months.
Pygmy Lush headlined, and played mostly material from Old Friends, and opened with the album's excellent first song, "Yellow Hall", a kind of demented sea shanty that translates beautifully to the live stage. They also played "Asphalt", the most instantly recognizable Pygmy Lush song, as well as "Big Black River" from Bitter River upon request from the crowd as an encore.
It was by far the best set I've ever seen the band play, loud or soft. They seemed to be truly enjoying themselves; as they jammed away on the last two songs of their set you could see smiles breaking out on their faces. After the show, Chris Taylor said that they felt liberated by the freedom of playing live after being in the studio all day - they could embrace their mistakes and just have fun. It was certainly visible to everyone in attendance.
How do you feel about watching a grown ass man weep? What about when this grown man is weeping while he sings? Meet Mo. He plays acoustic jams under the name Father;Lonesome, and this dude makes some of the saddest music I have ever heard. Or seen. Watching him play in my old living room was really intense because we were all just sitting on the couch and he was just swaying back and forth crying and stuff.
Mordekai is from San Jose and was on tour with Matsuri the last time they went on the road. I didn't know what to expect when I heard this dude was on tour with them, but I was pleasantly surprised. When I first met him I asked him about his name and shit and he weaved me a super fucking depressing tale about being a father and shit. A lot of his songs are about his young daughter and his love interest(s?). it would then make sense that most of his band related artwork has to do with his daughter as well. Real life punk shit you guys. Child support and shit. Real. Life. Punk. Shit.
Anyways, Father;Lonesome makes some really great music and I have a bunch of it below. When he was at my place he told me that he read Chug and then gave me alot of shit for free, which ruled. He has an EP and then is featured on a compilation that is to benefit a dude named Omar, who is sick or something. Sorry that I don't really know more about what that dude has or whatever, all I know is that he has a disease and his friends, some of whom are my friends, put together a compilation to help him out. I have that benefit compilation for download below, and I strongly encourage you to email Texas Toast DIY or Olhar De Vidro and give them some money for the For Omar compilation. Aside from Mo, I think all the tracks are solo songs from the Matsuri bros.
Saddest jams you have ever heard. Acoustic punks at its finest. Real life shit. Download it and feel at home when you are sad as fuck, because thats what I do. Sorry it took me so long to put this up Mo, but every time I hear it I just zone the fuck out. I love you though. Download this stuff. It's all real good. You won't regret it. Below is a video too. Word.
Some songwriters are widely praised and well known. Their stature as masters of their craft and acclaim for their songwriting abilities spreads, and they become nationally, or even world famous. All too often, however, some of the most talented, gifted songwriters get swept under the rug, or hug the coattails of obscurity willingly. There are those songwriters who develop intense cult followings, suspended on a pedestal for lucky individuals in the know.
Aimee Argote's consistent output since 2005 under the moniker Des Ark has suspended her to such a cult status. Argote's early material, raw, blistering post-punk with a heavy nod to the blues, has given way in more recent years to a restless, Appalachian-laden folk style since the loss of her drummer, the only other true "member" of Des Ark. Loose Lips Sink Ships, the band's first true LP puts Argote's talented guitar playing on display as she rails through eight songs, howling, sobbing, and sometimes outright screaming.
It is a far cry from the place we find her now in recent recordings; live she may bring the electric band with her, but on the live recording from WXDU, we find Argote as her most intimate and delicate, where newer songs like "Bonne Chance, Asshole" show off her incredible voice, as well as her creative and under appreciated guitar playing and tunings. The first song on Live on WXDU Vol. 1, "The Artistic Possibilites of Sub-Standard Housing and Food Stamps" even features Argote's parents clapping and stomping along. And the first two songs on Vol. 2 feature banjo, and are perhaps some of the finest tracks Argote has ever laid down.
2008's Battle of the Beards, a split with Ben Davis and the Jetts, is Argote's finest studio outing. A coherent EP that showcases her newer, country-tinged anarcho/blues/folk/punk/what-the-fuck-ever styling perfectly with accompaniment from piano and a string section.
If you have been sleeping on giving Des Ark a try, wait no longer. Aimee Argote deserves to be recognized as one of the greatest songwriters alive today; one that is able to capture and dissect the most secretive, taboo parts of the human psyche. Casual sex, homosexuality, alcoholism, and self-loathing are often given the nod amidst a wave of gentle, article finger-picking and a voice that creaks, moans, coos, and shrieks, demanding your immediate attention.
I am missing her first release, a split 7" with Bellafea put out in 2005. Anyone got it?
When I heard Bill Callahan was touring to support his new album, Sometimes I Wish We Were An Eagle, I got pretty excited.
Callahan, a native of Silver Spring, Maryland before re-locating to Chicago, and currently, Austin, Texas, is one of the more prolific singer-songwriters of his generation; his career spans just over 2 decades and 13 full length records (not to mention numerous EPs), from his first humble lo-fi cassette release to his latest LP.
Under the guise of his Smog moniker, Callahan's music morphed from lo-fi, mostly instrumental experimentation on 4 track records (his early career seems to have been heavily influenced by such artists as atonal pioneer Jandek), into more country-tinged, lushly recorded outings such as Red Apple Falls and Supper, not to mention his monstrous 1999 outing Knock Knock.
Following the release of 2000's Dongs of Sevotion, Callahan found himself with 7 LP's under his belt, 6 of which were released on the Chicago-based Drag City Records (which he remains signed to today), as well as one LP and several cassettes released by himself as Disaster records. A third major shift in artistic direction would take shape beginning on 2001's Rain on Lens, which would see Callahan stripping down the instrumentation on his records while continuing to write lyrically driven songs.
By 2007, Callahan had dumped the name Smog and released his first record under his own name, Woke on a Whaleheart. In comparison with his previous realease, a melancholy masterpiece that many consider his crowning achievement, A River Ain't Too Much To Love, Whaleheart seemed upbeat and even a bit psychedelic (just check out the album cover).
The brand new Sometimes I Wish We Were An Eagle is somewhat of a return to Callahan's darker side; tracks like the haunting "Eid Ma Clack Shaw" and the nearly 10 minute long closing track "Faith/Void" are testaments to Callahan's wry sense of humor and lyrical abilities. There are also more upbeat (for Callahan at least) tracks to be found here; "Rococo Zephyr" and "Too Many Birds" are almost whimsical in nature. The heavy use of strings add a lot to album and Callahan's sound, in a way that took me a few listens to fully appreciate.
After buying my ticket a few days previous to the show and then finding out that all my friends had bailed on attending the concert with me, I set off alone down the beltway and into the city. This was actually the first time I had ever been to a concert alone, and I have to say that it was a pretty enjoyable experience, minus getting slightly lost in the clusterfuck that is our nation's capitol and having only myself to curse.
By the time I finally found parking on 14th St., by some stroke of luck, and getting 4 dollars in change and then walking BACK to the car to feed the meter ($4 got me a measly 1:35), and then BACK to the club, Callahan and Co. were about ready to begin.
I caught only about a song of the opening act Lights; I had never heard of them before. they played psychedelic, jaunty music, and featured a female vocalist/guitarist (donned in heavy eyeshadow and a shimmering gold hooded blouse and white heels) and drummer, as well as a brutish lookin' fella playing the bass. To be honest, I was not that concerned with the opening act.
Callahan took the stage, took a few moments to tune and fetch a glass of wine, and slowly walked up to the mic, and decidely, against the pound of the punk music playing from the PA, said, "We're ready." The music was cut, and his band, featuring a drummer, second guitarist, cellist and violinist kicked into the opening track on Eagle, "Jim Cain".
Callahan is as striking a figure in person as he is in photographs and on album covers. His calm demeanor and quirky yet graceful mannerisms gravitated all eyes on him for the entire set. He played for about an hour and fifteen minutes, with a set list that included "Rococo Zephyr" and "Too Many Birds" from the new album, "Our Anniversary (from 2004's Supper), "Diamond Dancer", and a more downtrodden version of "Sycamore" (from 2007's Whaleheart), as well as a heavily applauded performance of "Bathysphere", from 1995's Wild Love LP. He played a truly riveting version of "Say Valley Maker", complete with a tensely-wound string driven climax, and closed with Rock Bottom Riser (both off 2005's A River...).
After announcing "Rock Bottom Riser" as his last song (to which someone in the crowd responded, "Impossible!" as someone else quipped, "I seriously doubt it Bill!") and leaving the stage, the crowd politely clapped, hooped, and hollered until he re-took the stage, and to my great pleasure kicked into a raucous version of "Let Me See the Colts", one of my very favorite Smog tracks. As the song ended someone yelled, "One more! One more!," and Callahan, putting down his guitar and heading over the keyboard stated simply, "Two more," which was recieved with heavy applause. The band kicked into a stunning version of "Eid Ma Clack Shaw," and finally closed with "Cold Blooded Old Times," from 1999's Knock Knock.
Definitely one of the best shows I have ever seen. Below I have all three of Callahan's releases under his own name...Look out for a Smog post eventually.
Below are two videos: Callahan performing "Sycamore" with current love interest Joanna Newsom and the video for "I Feel Like the Mother of the World".
For some reason, throughout my whole life, I have had a great love for traditional American music. Maybe it was being raised on artists like John Prine and Bob Dylan, or maybe it's just the honky in me, but every damn time I hear a banjo twang of a harmonica hum I start tapping my foot. Throughout generations, folk troubadours and singer-songwriters have often been the voice of the workingman, the social outcast, and the progressive thinker. From Guthrie and his gang to Dylan and his inner circle, these individuals and their peers often become cultural icons. But for every great singer-songwriter or group who ends up getting written about in your high school history book, there are those great artists who's success never quite live up to their talent.
For Frederick, Maryland's own Drug Money, this has never been a problem. The quartet-turned trio consisting of Jordan Romero, Alex Zachreal (sorry if I butchered that Alex), and Alex Kaufman, (and formerly Justin Whittaker) write roots music that is as grounded in the folk tradition as it is grounded in the DIY punk tradition. Humble beginnings and a demo recorded on a laptop led to...the departure of a snare player and an almost equally humbly recorded full length on a laptop. The songs themselves seem frantic; even the down-tempo jams seemingly hang by a thread as if this were the last time that it may ever be performed. While the lo-fi aspect of these recordings may make some guffaw or turn their heads, one listen to an early Bill Callahan record should humble naysayers quickly - recording quality can hardly hamper an amazing song - most times it adds an aura of mystery, an embodiment of the rebellious spirit of the artists approach to recording.
The true accomplishment here is "Baby, Let Me Home" a sprawling LP recorded in Jordan's bedroom. But the demo cannot be dismissed. Missing from the LP is "Next Wednesday," a great singalong that has been retired at live shows, and the demo version of "8 AM" is far superior to the version found on the album.
These guys are some of my good friends, and I love them. Check out their music!
Interested in a CD? Check out their myspace, they probably have some.
We are committed to bringing punk rock to everyone! however, you must (read: should) delete these files after 24 hours - they are the property of the artists who wrote the songs and are not really ours to give out! Please, if you like the album, support the artists! Don't just pirate, it's selfish!
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AUTHORITY FIGURES: Most if not all of the music posted on this blog is either out of print, DIY, or released by an independent label with no ties to major distributors or the RIAA. Just sayin'.
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C - bluegrassish@hotmail.com
R - bunkerkidzzz@mail.com
