SOD: Amy Winehouse "Valerie"

Losing Amy Winehouse was a tragedy. It's a reminder that no how big a star someone becomes in any field, they're still flesh and blood at the end of the day, and they can be hurt by the same things your average person is hurt by. Be it a mental or physical disease, a bullet, or an accident. Nobody is really "larger than life," because life always catches up. 


When I first heard of her death, I thought about it a lot. After much reflection, with little meaning coming form it, I realized that Amy Winehouse's death was too fresh to be looked at logically. I think Winehouse will be better remembered 30 or so years from now. I know that's a tough charge to take, but down the road, when people are nostalgic about our time in music, Amy Winehouse will be one of the fondest remembered artists. It's not that people don't think of her fondly now, but you can't mention her name without thinking about all the drugs and alcohol, stints in rehab, and bad decisions. We lived through her media raping, the future won't have to. All that can finally be a footnote.  

It's like Janis Joplin. My father always loved her music, but you couldn't mention her without the drugs and the booze, and untimely death at, of course, 27. When I think about Janis, I think of the music, and only the music. I remember what everyone else, like my father, said about the drugs and booze, but its that incredible raw talent that shines through. I think Winehouse has that same raw talent, and will endure a similar fate. When the future hears her songs, they won't be tied to the tragedy, and tabloid headlines. 

Winehouse was a trailblazer. She has spawned a slew of copycats musically, and inspired even more. That will be her legacy. That her name will be used in the same sentence with Billie Holliday and Janis Joplin, and all the other great female vocalists, well that's the best fate she could face. The Adele's and Duffy's of the world wouldn't have had a platform to stand on, had Winehouse not brought that style and genre of music back to the young.

I love her music. Just like anyone else who does, the rawness of it is remarkable. Her affectations could be adorable, uncomfortable and grotesque, but they were real, and they were a by-product of the force that flowed through her tiny frame. You couldn't take your eyes off her, for better or worse. So a little after a year since her death, I think its high time to keep the celebration of her music alive. It will be interesting to see as the years pass, if her music stays relevant. I see no way that it won't. 

Amy Winehouse - Valerie - Live HD

The Great American Pastime

Baseball in the heat of summer. It brings back memories of being a kid. The sun beats on you hard out on that field, and later in the day spends most of its time in your eyes. The late afternoon light frames everything in a perfect golden glow, but its not quite that pretty when the ball's hit your way.  At first, it's a funny feeling putting that leather mit on your hand. But once you've broken it in, it becomes as natural as the hand you put it on.

I've had the same mit since the sixth grade. I know that sounds odd because I was about four feet tall at that point in my life, but what can I say, the mit was big. My father bought it for me at Modells, and the first time I put it on, it was as big as my arm itself. I got used to it though. That mit has seen a lot of outfields. It still does, but the balls have grown. Sounds like a bad joke, but it's true, the softballs have definitely put a stretch on the old girl. My father told me that would happen if I ever started playing softball. I remember when he bought me the glove. The whole ride home he told me how I was going to use it for a long time. How it was a good glove, better than my old one. I needed an upgrade, I was a true outfielder now. I believed it.

I could never hit. First I was scared of the ball, then I was slow on the ball, and then came the curve. But I could always field. It was the one thing I focused on, because I new it was the only thing I stood a chance at being good at. I was small, and certainly underwhelming at first sight. And I was never the fastest, but I knew how to run. But I grew up playing catch with a big kid. Jimmy was always a large and strong guy. He could throw the ball hard, and far, but not always accurately. He was my best friend. I spent my baseball years throwing with him, and in turn, he gave me a good arm.

Then I learned how to get a read on the ball. How to catch it off the bat. I started to love the excitement of tracking a fly ball. I Still do. I still get that same feeling playing softball now. It's nostalgic, but it's also instinctual. I feel good out there alone with my thoughts, waiting on every pitch. It feels right. Just waiting for someone to hit something my way. Give me a shot at it, i'll come through. If there's a guy on base, especially third, I'm praying for him to tag. Give me a shot at him, I'm gonna take it.

I grew up on baseball. It's a part of my earliest memories and photos. We were a Yankees household, and I always had a cap on. I was playing catch and swinging wiffle ball bats as soon as I could stand on my own. Long before I'd really started talking in full sentences. And because of that, baseball has always had a big place in my heart. As a kid I loved tracking big league stats through the season. Hell, I even loved tracking our little league stats so much, that the coach let me keep the book during the games. They always said "baseball is a thinking mans game." I don't know if that was just to make themselves feel better, but it always made sense to me.

A couple weeks ago I missed my train back to the city and had to wait at the station for an hour. I figured I'd take a walk around the block, and happened upon my old high school. How could I forget, it's mere paces from the station, yet I haven't been back there in a decade. So I sauntered through the entrance, crossed the old soccer field I used to play on, and came upon the new varsity baseball field. It certainly wasn't the one we played on, and it was in very nice shape. It had dugouts and all. And there was a game going on, but it wasn't high school. It was a little league game and the kids were just at the age where they started to let them pitch. So I leaned against a fence post and watched for a few minutes.

It was amazing. I remembered how much I loved little league myself. All the dads and coaches on the sidelines shouting advice and encouragement. The mothers and smaller children all sat together on the bleachers, occasionally looking at the game when they heard that familiar sound of bat on ball. Otherwise they were using the time to catch up on what had happened in each others lives. It was exactly how I remembered it, and a part of me missed it a little bit.

I always kind of hoped I could coach a little league team when I had kids. It seemed like something I'd love to do. I remember how much I loved playing, and I remember the coaches and parents who really taught me something about the game. There's just something about being there to pass on the love of the sport, to the next crop of kids. Sure it's our national pastime and all that, but it's more about giving a kid a chance to love an activity that can help them in their lives, and gives them something to look forward to after school each day. If they wind up loving the game a tenth as much as I did, and do, then it will have been a wild success. And of course I remember the bond it gave my father and I. That's something that can never be taken away. We still talk shop every time I'm home and watch games when we can. One day I hope I have a kid I can share all that with as well.

Until that day, I still get an immense amount of pleasure just watching it on television and at the ball park when I can get there. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a baseball announcer. I loved statistics, and fancied myself a "color guy." I didn't need to do the play-by-play, filling in the holes was where I belonged. Now, I just like talking about it with whoever's watching the game with me. Comparing stats, making wild exclamations about the post season, and debating the chances that the Yankees will win it all. Hey, they've always got a shot. And I think as long as I have that, then this great game's always got a place in my home, and my life.

SOD: Robert Plant "Tin Pan Valley"

I know I've already done a Robert Plant SOD, that's even from the same album, but "Tin Pan Valley" just came on my office playlist and my neighbor came by to ask "what song is this?" I love when that happens. When a tune is catchy enough, or just has that certain something to it, that you can't help but impose on the person playing it to find out what it is. I've been there before, many times. There's nothing like discovering a new album or group for the first time. Somehow, no matter how many times it happens, I'm always just as shocked and thrilled everytime. I'll incessantly play the album for at least a couple of weeks, or until I'm satisfied that I've learned the lyrics, and can hum all the parts cold. Each time, it's like falling in love for the first time all over again. With music that is.

The beauty of this, is that as long as people are making new music, this can keep happening. I'm fully aware that there is a plethora of complete and utter talentless, slop out there, but sparsely peppered in that mix are some diamonds in the rough. Those are what make the endless searches worth it. Often times, I've found older acts, long since disbanded or moved on, who's music I haven't heard before. This is as good as it gets, because I have an entire body of work to navigate through, right at my fingertips. Nothing like immediate gratification. No waiting for the next album to come out, because they've already been here for a while. Most recently that happened to me with "Pentangle" (A British folk group), when I learned they backed up Nick Drake on his first album, Five Leaves Left. About three years ago I discovered Anders Osborne for the first time, and since then I've purchased all his albums, and seen him play live a handful of times.

Nonetheless, I think it may have recently happened to my coworker, as he's been listening to "The Mighty Rearranger" for the past hour, and already played this tune three times. You've gotta love it.

Tin Pan Valley-Robert Plant

SOD: Toto "Rosanna"

So what, I like Toto. Have you heard "Africa?" If not, I'm not sure when you were born, who your parents were, or what kind of music you fill your head with, but please click the link above to have your world blown. Toto was a band of immense popularity. With 17 albums to date, and over 35 million copies sold, these guys controlled the airwaves in the late 70's and 80's.

All three Porcaro brothers played for the band, but Jeff Porcaro is the standout. A pioneer of the classic 80's drum sound, Jeff Porcaro played with pretty much everyone, in the studio that is. Even if you've never heard the name, you probably know this guy better than any other drummer if you grew up listening to rock music from his era. He played with Steely Dan on three of their albums (Gaucho being my favorite of the three), Boz Scaggs, Hall & Oates, Warren Zevon, Lowell George, Pink Floyd, The Bee Gees, Michael Jackson, Elton John, Don Henley, Michael McDonald, Eric Clapton, Madonna (on Like A Prayer no less), Dire Straits, Bruce Springsteen... you get the idea. But sadly, Jeff didn't even make it to 40 years old. He fell ill after spraying pesticide on his lawn, and died after being rushed to the hospital. Upon closer inspection, the autopsy revealed the cause to be a hardening of the arteries from extensive cocaine use. Poor bastard just couldn't keep it in check, and everyone paid the price.

But the band wasn't just Jeff Porcaro obviously. There's been lineup changes through the years as there almost always are, but the core of the group from it's inception through 1982 was Steve Lukather (guitar/vocals), Bobby Kimball (lead vocals), David Hungate (bass), Jeff Porcaro (drums), Steve Porcaro (keyboard), and David Paich (keyboards/vocals). They've won a handful of Grammy Awards and were inducted into the RRHOF in 2009, though the latter doesn't mean very much to me. 

I know I speak of it often and fondly, but Tuesday Night Jam at Greens is a great place to get a cool dose of Toto. In fact, that's why I thought of the song today because at the last TNJ I attended, The Greens Family Band did one hell of a cover of "Rosanna". Johnny even managed to figure out a way to get the synthesizer solo effects used on the album version, to sound pretty freaking close on a Korg SV-1. That's impressive. Locals were digging it, women were swooning, summer love was thick and volatile. People were looking to make bad decisions, and Rosanna became the catalyst. At least, that's the way I remember it. 

Toto rosanna

SOD: The James Taylor Quartet "Blow Up"

Not to be confused with the American musician James Taylor (famous for such hits as "Carolina On My Mind" and "Fire and Rain"), this foursome of funk hails from the Great part of Britain. With a sound that takes you back quite a few decades at this point, it's surprising to hear such an authentic sound come out of a group that got its start in the mid-eighties.

This tasty treat was borrowed from the great Herbie Hancock, who wrote the original music for the film of the same name, "Blow Up." Perhaps us 80's babies most remember it from the sample Deee Lite used in a song that flooded our airwaves and brains in youth, "Groove Is In The Heart." Nonetheless, the James Taylor Quartet hits it spot on here, and created what became their first single in 1985. The Hammond, played by James Taylor, stands out the most to me in this, but there's not a weak link in the sound. The song can be appreciated at full face value, but if you go in and listen to each individual instrument on repeat plays, you will not be disappointed.

From what I've read, these guys put on a hell of a show live, and that was one of the biggest attractions about them. They're still at it today, albeit with a revised lineup, and their most recently released album is from 2011. It's called The Template, and I gave it a listen. It did not disappoint. The roots are still alive, the funk is still strong. Check out "Light Up Your Soul" and their cover of Gil Scott Heron's "Home Is Where The Hatred Is." I'm a big fan of Soulive and The New Mastersounds, and I'd say these guys fit right in there with them, the only difference being that Soulive and the New Mastersounds came out over a decade after JTQ. I'll tell you one thing, if they're here in New York anytime soon, I'll be looking for tickets.

The James Taylor Quartet - Blow Up

SOD: Atmosphere "Sunshine"

Atmosphere has been an exception to the genre of rap/hip-hop for a long time in my book. I truly believe they have a special thing going. The group is composed of Sean Daley aka "Slug," and Anthony Davis, aka "DJ Ant." They hail from the civically charged state of Minnesota and there's something about their sound that is very unique and identifiable for me. The lyrics are poignant and witty, and rarely mundane or generic. Their range of topics is endless. From domestic abuse, relationships and childhood, to stories using allegorical references and straight up fictional accounts.  The samples and production that color in those lyrics can be very emotive on their own, and the diversity found in them is just as great as in the lyrics.

I remember when I first heard this song. It was very literal for me. I could picture everything he said, and easily relate to it. Who hasn't had a long night of imbibing, woken up worse than shaky, and gone outside to sweat it out in the sun. The descriptive nature of the words combined with the catchy and beautiful sample of Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov's Song of India, makes for the perfect summer jam in my eyes. The whole song flows like a perfectly told story from a first person point of view, but the line that always gets me is:


So I think I need to smell fresh air
So I stepped out the back door and fell down the stairs.
The sunlight hit me dead in the eye
Like it's mad I gave half the day to last night.


I definitely know what giving half a day to last night is. At this point, sometimes I wind up giving the whole 24 hours. But to put it into such terms is a kind of poetry to me, and it's those little things that will get me interested and potentially hooked on a group.

Atmosphere - Sunshine

My Poor Unfortunate Soul

Don't get me wrong here, I love quality time with the girls. A carful of talkative women isn't exactly my "happy place"on a sunday evening, but then again from their perspective, either is a barbecue-scented chauffer with a pension for changing lanes at high speeds. All things considered, this sunday was a successful trip. Nobody lost their tempers, everyone made it home. 

I'm used to these trips. I'm used to carfuls of women, who like to sing top-forty radio and discuss fashion, ice cream, airfare, dream trips, plans for christmas this year, and their favorite Madona song at age sixteen. I may not be able to relate or understand on all levels, but that street goes both ways with all the shit I talk about. As long as we can keep the radio dialed to a volume of at least medium-low, I can make do. Shit I can make more than do, I'll be downright fucking pleasant. The ladies get to wind down from a weekend of good ol' christian sin and sun, and I get to hum my way through 3+ hours of poor Long Island driving and congestion. What I'm saying is, the system works.

But just when I thought we had amicably agreed upon the terms of travel, Kimi decided to throw me a curve. I could never hit the curve. You see, Kim's sister Sara busted out the old CD collection form Highschool (you know, Salt N' Peppa, Elton John, Garbage, Hole, Dixie Chicks, the Tank Girl soundtrack) as it is after all her car. And when the collective was just not feeling it, she took to the spotify app. Short of my own Ipod, you can't beat that. Now the hits were rolling, and I was making time.

At some point Sara lost the will to make decisions on the music, and looked for suggestions. I felt things were going well, so I kept my mouth shut. There were a couple of nice Jackson Five tunes, and some Amy Winehouse thrown in, so it was looking good. But about 20 minutes from the midtown tunnel, Kimi, the love of my life, screwed me. The next four words she said... oh, how they felt like a slow and painful stab to my middle (reference Saving Private Ryan), or a cigarette slowly put out on my forehead. Dramatic? No. For if you were in my shoes, you would understand the hell brought upon my very life. "What about Disney Songs?" she said.

Well I'll tell you what about Disney songs. It's scary what you remember from your childhood without realizing it. It was almost Pavlovian, and I was frightened beyond belief. First came "Under The Sea," from the 1989 Disney animated classic The Little Mermaid. Adapted from the Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale, something tells me the film took a few liberties. Sebastian the all-too-cliche Jamaican Red Crab was the balladeer of this Academny Award winning Best Original Song. Voiced by Samuel E. Wright (who also played Mufasa in The Lion King), it is a Caribbean performance of the gayest kind. And I mean that by both the colloquial/slang and "joyful" definitions. First, I found myself reciting the opening lines in my head. I thought to myself, "Jumpsuit, how do you know these words? How can you possibly remember?" Then by the second turn of the chorus, there I was, lightly mouthing "Under the sea (under the sea), Under the sea (under the sea)," fake Jamaican accent and all. I felt guilt for the undoubted shame my father would have if he saw me. Thelonious Ignacious Crustaceous Sebastian the Jamaican Red Crab, had brought to light a horrifying truth; I still remembered Disney Songs.

"Le Poissons" was next. Sara knew this one phrase for phrase, and belted it out with the strength of ten choruses. Thank science she's got a good voice. I remember the scene so vividly, as that chef scared the shit out of me when I was a kid. There I am, six years old thinking this mad frenchman is going to kill off Sebastian, the beloved tritagonist. It was also my first lesson in film: if someones going to die, the black guy goes first. Even Disney was ingraining this in my generation from a very young age.

Fearing for my sanity at this point, and still remembering the songs note for note with the images of the corresponding scenes flashing frame by frame through my mind, we entered the Midtown tunnel. Sara had by this point summoned "Poor Unfortunate Souls"to the airwaves which, Laura proceeded to belt out directly behind my head. And that was my breaking point. The rest is hazy as I was delusional, and had suffered a massive ear-raping, but I'm pretty sure The Lion King and Aladdin both made appearances. When I finally got home and into my apartment, I showered immediately. Then I kissed my girlfriend to make sure I still liked it, and filed the night in the drawer of repressed memories. The only question now, is do I leave proof of its existence here?

SOD: Canned Heat "Let's Work Together"

Last night at the "Slam Chowder" show in Bayside, Johnny, Davey, and I were talking about the group Canned Heat. Johnny and Venice will be Road Trippin' out to California together, and Davey suggested they listen to Canned Heat's classic song, "Goin' Up The Country," on repeat all the way out there. He even calculated the math, and figured they'd need to listen to the song approximately 1400 times in a row, before they made it. "Completely Doable," I said.

Then I mentioned, maybe they could switch it up once in a while, and throw on a little "On The Road Again," which is probably their second most famous song. You know, at least get a brief reprieve in there. Both songs were written and sung by the great Alan Wilson (writing credits for "On The Road Again" are also given to Floyd Jones), who's vocals are easily recognizable. Davey commented that those two songs were the only really memorable Canned Heat songs, and though I agreed they were certainly the most memorable, I had recalled listening to two other songs quite a bit, but I couldn't remember their names. When I got home that night, I looked it up, and found the two others I enjoyed so much. First was this song, "Lets Work Together," which is a blues song written by Wilbert Harrison in 1962, that Canned Heat made popular. It's actually Bob Hite singing on this one, not Alan Wilson. Wilson provides the slide guitar though. The second, was an old Muddy Waters tune called "Rollin' and Tumblin.'" Muddy's version is a classic, but I think Canned Heat certainly does the song justice. Check it out: "Rollin and Tumblin'" by Canned Heat

Alan "Blind Owl" Wilson was the original brains behind the group. His is the voice we all remember and recognize, and he was the one who wrote the majority of their songs. But Wilson's story is a sad one, and he only made it to the turn of the decade before dying in Los Angeles in 1970. He had tried to commit suicide twice and failed, before joining the fateful "27 Club" when he died of an accidental drug overdose. An unfortunate loss, but even more unfortunately not all too uncommon in this world. However, that does not diminish the work that he completed when he was here, and left us to enjoy still, over forty-five years after its inception.

Canned Heat - Let's Work Together (Best Version)

Slam Chowder

As I've mentioned in the past, I am amazed and thrilled by the incestuous nature of some musicians. Not all musicians and bands share their personel and stages, but many of the best do, which fortunately leads to some of the best collaborative work. I've frequently discussed how The Allman Brothers (both past and present) were very open to this idea, how Derek Trucks and Susan Tedeschi open their doors to a rotating field of brilliant musicians, and how Soul Live never seems to have the same group up there twice. Musicians like Bruce Springsteen frequently have guests on stage at shows, but he's still not above popping into a club in Asbury Park on a random night, to get a few licks in. All in all, those musicians with a love of the art itself, are the ones most inclined and open to collaboration.

This ideology in the music world is absolutely NOT reserved to those just making the "big bucks," and playing to sold out arenas. No, this ideology exists on all levels, though the passion and love of music itself seems to be the one thing that binds all of them together. Without it, there would be no "Slam Chowder."

The Frank Stalloners are a group of musicians from my hometown (and surrounding areas), who were regulares on the NYC/Queens/Long Island music scene, as well as traveling and playing occasionally up and down the east coast. They're great musicians, as good as I've ever seen, and better than most any of the other groups I've seen play in the same venues they frequented, like The Bitter End, Rattle n' Hum, and Crash Mansion, to name a few. They have an extensive repertoire that includes hundreds of covers, but their real gems were in the original tunes. In my opinion at least.

When Matty, their lead guitarist, left to take a new job across the country, the Stalloners recruited two new guitarists. But they weren't really "new," because the group had already played with them many times, as the Stalloners liked to add "and Friends" to their moniker whenever possible. Just like Derek Trucks and the Allman Bros Band, the Stalloners enjoyed the simple and beautiful things in music, not least of which was playing with like minded musicians. There's no arguments or issues with money, or tour dates, or managers. Their concerned with simply making the best music possible, and making sure everyone (including themselves), is having a great time.

So once Matty left, the remaining Stalloners became The Greens Family Band, and since that time, they've played a lot of music, with a lot of different people. Different incarnations have occurred at different times, and it's really amazing how communal it all can be. Last night, was one such example of this.

Press 195 is an amazing joint with great food, a great staff, and a lively atmosphere. I went down last night to see the newly dubbed "Slam Chowder," give their first performance. Shawn (guitarist), Jon (guitarist, vocals) and Pat (bassist) have all played with The Greens Family Band at one point or another, and Pat and Shawn are staples of the group. But Jon Burns got the itch to try something a little different, and Pat and Shawn obliged him. They did an acoustic performance of some very memorable songs like The Joker, Midnight Rider, Melissa, Wagon Wheel, Hey Joe, Hoochie Coochie Man, among many others. And I must say, for a group that had never before played together in that capacity, they had a very developed and tasteful sound. They were loose, they were fun, and they brought that feeling to their music.

Over this past year and a half since Matt's departure from the original band, so many different players have come, and gone, and come back again. There's an entire stable of musicians just ready to go, and all of them wind up converging on the stage Tuesday nights at Greens Irish Pub in Manhasset (as they host an Open Mic Night). It's truly a spectacle, and it's nothing short of awe-inspiring because all of these guys are so good at their crafts. So it's not just the Allman Brothers and other big name bands in the world that have the opportunity to collaborate with their contemporaries, this idea is open to anyone who will sieze it, just as the Greens Family Band has. It's an amazing thing to see, and it's an amazing thing to be a part of. It takes the idea of "community" to the next level, because you're not all just hanging around together, you're creating something together. In my mind, there's nothing more communal than that.

SOD: Joe Cocker "Space Captain"

I grew up listening to Joe Cocker. I also grew up watching the Wonder Years for its six year stint on ABC. Anyone who knows the show knows that Cocker's version of "With A Little Help From My Friends" was the opening theme song. Cocker 's voice is a gravelly, gin-soaked, growl, and if he weren't so melodic and on pitch, he might sound more similar to the drunken regular who spews obscenities into the air, sitting at the end of your local bar every night, than a world class frontman. But alas, Joe Cocker is a gifted vocalist with a wild and explosive stage presence. You can't take your eyes or ears off him.

Space Captain is my favorite Joe Cocker tune. I hate to pick just one but if forced to, my answer is definite. Everything is perfect about this song. The stripped down verses that let Leon Russell's playful keys chime in and out, are the perfect precursor to the heavy, drenching, descending riff over the iconic lyrics, "until we die, until we die," leading right into the funkier breakdown, "We're just learning to live together (horns!), learning to live together (horns!), learning to live together, until we die." Another note about this, the live version on Mad Dogs and Englishmen is absolutely better than the studio version. It's definitely worth keeping in mind, or comparing for yourself.

A final note: A couple weeks ago I attended one of the infamous Tuesday Night Jam sessions at Greens Irish Pub in Manhasset. The Greens Family Band hosts these open mic nights every tuesday, and if your ever in the area, I would highly recommend coming down. Hell, I'll even buy you a shot, you won't be disappointed (by the music or the shot). And on this occasion I actually got up and played a few tunes with the boys, and one of them was in fact "Space Captain." Well, let me tell you, it was one of the biggest highlights of my brief musical career. Playing one of my all-time favorite songs, with one of my all-time favorite groups, The Greens Family Band never disappoints. It was truly an amazing experience, and I've got to thank those guys for giving me the shot. 

Joe Cocker, Mad Dogs, Englishmen - Space Captain (LIVE) HD

SOD: The Low Anthem "The Horizon Is A Beltway"

Shades of Tom Waits. That's what I thought when I first heard this song. And the album Oh My God, Charlie Darwin (2008), is a very well put together effort that has a distinctive sound, flow, and quality to it from beginning to end. It did come out a number of years ago at this point, but it's still very relevant to the indie/alternative scene, as music like this is being made and released almost constantly.

But The Low Anthem has the "X-factor" in my eyes. The thing that separates them from everyone else doing the same thing. That's the most essential thing a band can have these days, assuming that talent is already expected. But it's not even the most talented musicians who are making the best music today. In many instances, it's the ones who have that X factor, because that allows them to standout. Whether it's impeccable songwriting, captivating lyrics, chilling authenticity, or a number of other things. I find that in The Low Anthem, especially this album.

The group hails from Rhode Island, but that doesn't really factor into the sound. Come to think of it, I don't know what Rhode Island "sounds like." What I do know is that this groups sound is a rustic blend of Americana, blues, and folk, and a nice departure from a lot of the other stuff out there today. There most recent effort, Smart Flesh (2011) is also worth checking out, but I still insist that they captured something truly authentic in the aforementioned Oh My God, Charlie Darwin.

the low anthem - the horizon is a beltway

SOD: Townes Van Zandt "Lungs"

The first time I conscientiously turned Townes van Zandt on, was after learning about Steve Earle (one of my all time favorite songwriters). Steve Earle, among many others, was highly influenced by Townes Van Zandt. In fact, I'd venture to say that Van Zandt would most definitely be Earle's biggest influence. Hell, Earle even named his son after him (musician Justin Townes Earle). Sometimes you discover music backwards like that, especially when you're listening to dead artists on attic albums.

I'd heard Townes before, I just didn't know it. Songs like "If I Needed You" have been staples of the genre for a very long time, and I've known them since I was young. And of course I'd heard him covered by other artists I listened to more frequently, like Bob Dylan and Steve Earle. There are covers of his work out there that are real gems. Van Zandt's work lends itself to reinterpretation and homage. Steve Earles versions are very tasteful and respectable, but certainly inject some of his own style into them, as they rightly should. But just like American muscle cars, there is no remaking an original.

Townes Van Zandt is the kind of musician who can make you want to feel sad. His music can call up such strong and simple emotion, you need only open yourself to feeling it. Most of the time, we're only interested in letting the pleasurable ones in, and fighting the darker, mores scary ones away. But Van Zandt makes it ok to feel those other raw emotions as well, because as frightening as it is to let yourself feel sad and vulnerable, it's also very liberating. Of course he's not the only one adept at doing this, but he's one of the best, and this song is a great example of the power of his songwriting. 

Townes Van Zandt - Lungs

SOD: Tedeschi, Trucks, Haynes "Comin Home"

I went out drinking last night at the Rose Bar. That place is way to sheik for me and thus, overpriced. But it's not where, its with whom, and the company was definitely good. Then Kimi woke me up around 7am this morning, and proceeded to talk to me about anything and everything under the sun for the next two hours. We were both still a little buzzed and besides the headache, it was funny. When I finally got to the office, I was starting to feel a little sluggish. The nights toll was to be paid, but alas the first youtube video that popped up on the screen was this one. I played it twice, and it got me going, so it seemed appropriate to post for SOD.

I don't have to reiterate how tight this group of musicians is (Tedeschi/Trucks, Allman Bros., etc.), but I will. It really never gets old for me, I can listen to them for days on end and still want more. And tell me Susan Tedeschi doesn't rock your world. Obviously she's got the voice, but to see her shred that guitar and even solo with the big dogs just gets me all honed up (as the man Mulcahy would say). For her to stand up there with such presence among quite possibly the greatest guitar duo today, and command such respect from them and the rest of the musicians she's worked with, is nothing short of awesome. She's one hell of a lady.

This cover can't be found on any of their albums, but this is a really good audio quality performance. If you want to hear a stellar version, go to the original on the Delaney and Bonnie album, D&B Together. It was written by Bonnie and Eric Clapton when he played with Delaney and Bonnie, and another amazing version can be heard on the live box-set On Tour with Eric Clapton. I'd love to sit here and get into the influence that Delaney Bramlett had on the music we love, as there is absolutely nobody less known who had more of an impact on all the artists that we've come to cherish, than Delaney Bramlett. But there just isn't time. For those of you who don't know him, he only convinced and taught Eric Clapton to sing the blues, taught George Harrison to play slide guitar (and basically wrote "My Sweet Lord"), and what other front man can say he had Duane Allman, Eric Clapton, and Jimi Hendrix play in his group at one point? Forget the countless other musicians who either got their start or honed their chops in his band like oh say, Billy Preston, Dave Mason, Carl Radle, Jim Gordon, Red Rhodes, Jaimoe, Bobby Whitlock, Bobby Keys, King Curtis, Jim Price, Chuck Rainey, Rita Coolidge, Tina Turner, Leon Russell etc. And I genuinely mean the etcetera, because the list absolutely goes on. Props to Matty for drilling at least those aforementioned names into my head as I'm impressed I could remember that much without going to the books. Seriously, look him up.

S Tedeschi, W Haynes, D Trucks - Comin' Home

SOD: The Band "Time To Kill"

I love The Band. It's pretty much that simple. Perfect name for the quintessential well, "band." Whether it was backing Ronnie Hawkins or Bob Dylan, there was no better guys to have behind you in their heyday. Of course their best stuff came when they were simply backing themselves. Their sound was distinctive, layered, and just plain old fun. The songwriting is credited to Robertson, but he's an asshole and did his best to cut everyone else out of credit and rights as much as possible. So in my biased opinion, he's no more important than any other member of the group, and a hell of a lot more controversial.

I could sit here and talk about the history of this great group for the next few hours, and enjoy every minute of it. But that would be a bit presumptuous on my part, as not everyone shares my sentiments. I will however say, that at the time the album Stage Fright came out in 1971, the expectations and pressures on The Band were enormous. Music From Big Pink and The Band, were two incredibly successful and well crafted albums. There wasn't a weak point in either of them. To say they had a lot to live up to was an understatement. But in my opinion, they did.

Stage Fright is seen as a more straightforward "rock" effort from the band, but I still wholly get that same feeling of rootsy and folky music that I got from the first two. The classic vocal harmonies the group is known for are ever present, even if they're a bit more repressed (though they're very present in this track), and the instrumentation and musicianship is always of the highest caliber. In this particular track I love the rolling, playful piano, and as Matty pointed out to me, it is one of their best guitar intros. It's definitely a guitar based song, but don't let that distract you from all the other things going on. Multiple listens are absolutely required.

Overall, I think it's a great rock n' roll tune that I don't really hear played much, and so it seemed a more appropriate choice than the more commonly sought after "The Shape I'm In" or "Stage Fright." Another one of my personal favorites off this album is Daniel and the Sacred Harp (talk about a wacky cool intro), but in fairness to the group and yourself, just listen to the whole album.

The Band- Time To Kill

"The Black Rose"

A former intern of mine had a screening for his student film last night in midtown. Times Square to be exact. I hate Times Square more than almost anything in the world, most people who live in this city do. And it's not just the herds of tourists, foul stench, and over-zealous vendors, but its the overall atmosphere and false energy that projects out of every bulb and screen. It's the last place in the world I've come to associate New York City with, even if there are pictures of it in every handguide and postcard stand. 

Point is, for me to actually venture up there takes a lot. Edwin was worth it though. He was a great intern, but far more than that, a great person. He has a subtle ease and overall contentment with everything going on around him. It was refreshing, especially when I'm used to everyone always being on the go. We were always able to downshift a gear or two and just simply enjoy each others company. But that's definitely not the last word in Edwin's story, because he has a very apparent and willful desire to create and succeed. His passion is film, and he didn't just talk about it. He made one.

Edwin was genuinely happy that I had made it to the screening, and that alone was more than enough for me, no matter how the film fared. And like any student project with a low budget, minimal amount of on set experience, and fast approaching deadlines, it had its flaws. But you couldn't help but look past those and see all the things the team did right. The roles that each of them filled were perfectly suited to their skill sets and personalities, which alone is a huge step in the right direction. They all embraced these roles, and for the first go round did an incredible job in them. The film itself had some very mature shots, and a shockingly well shot fight sequence at the end. The story had its flaws but after all, Edwin slashed a full-feature script down to a twenty-minute taste, such things will happen. But I still think everyone left understanding at the very least, the gist of it. As I told them all, they should be very proud of the outcome. 

I hope he continues to follow his dream. As of now, he seems to be traveling along a path that if everything worked out, would have him in the same realm as say an Antoine Fuqua. Fuqua did The Replacement Killers when he was 32 and Training Day by 35, This seems to be the genre Edwin's most drawn to. One thing he did mention in his speech was how much his internship at IFCFilms influenced his writing and ideas. He was force-fed independent and foreign films all day long, and watching them gave him a new take on the game. I was just glad he could use any part of his work with me, to better himself and create new possibilities. So, my hope for Edwin is that he stays on the road he's on, and invites me to his big premiere one day. Lord knows I'll go, even if it is in Times Square again. 

SOD: Traffic "Rock 'N' Roll Stew"

In my youth, I thought of Traffic as "the guys who did Dear Mr. Fantasy," which was basically my go-to jam for a good while in the eighth grade. But there is no individual song that can neatly sum them up, no singular lineup that can fully define them. Their on and off again status provided quite a few different personel combinations, but in the end I suppose the heart of the group was always present. The case the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame made was for the four original members, and that makes sense. Steve Winwood, Dave Mason, Chris Wood, and Jim Capaldi were the first bearers of the name "Traffic." But as good as Dave Mason was, and as integral as Chris Wood was, to me, Traffic is the collaboration of Steve Winwood and Jim Capaldi.

Dave Mason quit the group multiple times, and was fully gone by the time this song came out in '71. Winwood was doing the keyboard, organ, and guitar work almost all by himself, Chris Wood continued giving the group it's avant-garde edginess with his flute and saxophone work while Jim Capaldi was relegated to playing percussion (though he sang lead vocals on this song). Jim Gordon was brought in on drums and I mean, how could you not want Jim Gordon on drums. He was quite possibly the most in demand session drummer of his time. Granted, he did kill his mother with a tack hammer a decade later, but hey, the guy was an undiagnosed schizophrenic, lets cut him some slack.

So in 1971 when this song came out on the album, "The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys," Traffic did not sound like the same band of "Paper Sun" and "Dear Mr. Fantasy" fame. Yes, "Rock N' Roll Stew" was certainly a more popular, rock styled song, but they had by this time more fully developed their progressive and jazz rock oriented sound. A sound that had crept in at times in the past, but was now becoming much more evident. They had also lost Dave Mason permanently at this point, so that impact cannot go unmentioned. Yet, there's still an amazing amount of style and distinctiveness to it. That's one thing I will say for traffic (i've listened to six of their eight studio albums), there is a style there that is unmistakeable. Their albums may vary in context, arrangement, and personel, but there's still that same flavor to them all which I have to attribute to Steve Winwood and Jim Capaldi. I personally believe Steve Winwood was the gear that wound the clock given his vast resume and songwriting abilities, but with no factual knowledge to base that on, I'll stick to what I do know.

Steve Winwood is an amazing musician. I saw him live at MSG about five or so years ago with Eric Clapton, and he tore it up on the old black and whites, organ, and he even took a few turns with the six-string. The man has still got it, in my opinion. But what I've really come to notice after listening to him for some time now, is that Steve Winwood is a collaborator. There are musicians who can seclude themselves in a closet with a pen and pad, and come walking out months later with a symphony. But on the opposite end of the spectrum, there are musicians who do their best work when they have like-minded colleagues to play off of, and push them. Jim Capaldi seemed to fill this role when Winwood wasn't drawn into some other supergroup (like the short lived Blind Faith), or trying to work out how to do it on his own. I believe the 1970 John Barleycorn Must Die album by Traffic, started out as a solo effort for Winwood (as Dave Mason left for the second time in '68, and Winwood joined Blind Faith in '69 before it disbanded six months later), before he wound up bringing in Wood and Capaldi to complete the largely successful album which, I also happen to treasure. (Glad is one of my personal favorites).

Traffic has an ear and pen for a complex but accessible sound. Yes, there's always those tunes that go right over ones head, but on the whole I've found Traffic to be a band that consistently makes my playlists, and in my world, that definitely means a lot. Steve Winwood and Jim Capaldi were the songwriting masterminds behind Traffic. I've heard some die hard fans of this group preach to me about the genius of the original lineup, and I get it and agree. Dave Mason's writing and playing should never be discredited, losing him was by no means a gift. But I think that the group still retained a certain chemistry and spark, that made them a relevant and interesting part of the music of their time. There's no reason we shouldn't still be listening to them today heck, everyone knows I do.

Traffic:-'Rock 'N' Roll Stew'

Jimi Hendrix - The Star Spangled Banner (Live at Woodstock 1969)

SOD: Wye Oak "Fish"

I love this video. It takes a lot for me to love a music video these days, most seem very cliche, or try too hard to be something bigger than the song ever is. A lot of times I find myself thinking, let the music do the talking. I'd rather just create my own "video" in my head when I hear a tune. But every so often I'm reminded of why a music video can enhance a song. Like this one.

It all starts with the style. Shadow puppetry is not something I'm familiar with, and apparently this was a very labor intensive shoot (First Watch: Wye Oak, "Fish"). It's fascinating to see all the parts that went into creating it, and I think the outcome is something to be very proud of. The ethereal quality of it somehow works perfectly in making a literal point of the song. 

Wye Oak is not just the state tree of Maryland, it's a musical duo comprised of Andy Stack and Jenn Wasner who have figured out a way to make a wildly grand sound with only two bodies. It has elements of folk, yet at times it grows into something much heavier and eruptive than that. It's hard to put a label on them, which in my opinion, means they're doing something right. Jenn Wasner takes on guitar and vocal duties, while Andy Stack plays drums and keyboards using his hands and feet. He has a calm, intuitive collectedness about him. He keeps all his parts to the background, providing a landscape for Wasner to paint her heart on. She has an incredible voice and the perfect amount of guitar to go with it. The exploration of their album Civilian, can be something of a catharsis. 

They're a far cry from Jack and Meg White, and it goes to show you what a range of sound two people can put together. These Baltimore natives have tapped into something, and I only hope it does not go mainstream. I'd like them to preserve this sound and style for as long as possible before someone with dollar signs in their eyes gets wind of it. Then again, these two don't seem to be the type to buy into that anyway. Hey, a boy can hope. 

Wye Oak - Fish

SOD: Donavon Frankenreiter "Move By Yourself"

Jack Johnson is the face of a very popular style of music, of which there are many, many artists associated. But Johnson to date has gotten the most face time and thus, many of the smaller acts have failed to break as he has. It's almost as if the world is saying, Jack is enough for us. 

But he's not. I think this video holds a little weight to that fact because Donavon Frankenreiter can clearly play. And though not all of his songs are as upbeat and funky as this one, he's definitely developed himself a nice sound over the years. The irony of it is that Frankenreiter is actually very close friends with Jack Johnson, who plays on his albums and has produced some of them. Donavon rented a room from Jack Johnsons parents when he was in Oahu surfing under the sponsorship of Billabong and later, when he was more musically established, signed to Johnson's own Brushfire Records. So the two of them are obviously linked by more than just their sound.

Frankenreiter is locked into that soft rock/surf rock genre pretty exclusively, which has led to comparisons and collective performances with the likes of G. Love and the Special Sauce, Dave Matthews, Pete Yorn, and Pete Francis (Dispatch), in addition to Jack Johnson. And though these musicians all have apparent similarities, Frankenreiter has separated himself from this group at points throughout the years.  For example, when he first entered the music scene at 18, he played guitar (but did not sing) for Sunchild. This outfit was a little more rootsy, and had undertones of straight 70's classic rock. It would be easier to compare their sound to the Black Crowes at that time, than to any of the above. But as he explored his sound, and relationship with Jack Johnson, he found a niche in the same genre as his friend, who has been an active part of his music ever since. 

And then there's tracks like this one. It shows a funkier side to Donavon exists, especially in live performances, which is why this guy is probably a lot of fun in the right venue. It just so happens he'll be playing at Brooklyn Bowl (directions) this friday (7/6/12) at 8pm. And for a paltry $12, you could wind up attending the perfect summer concert; a nice blend between the relaxing groove, and the funky beat. Oh, and of course there's the beer.

Donavon Frankenreiter - Move By Yourself