Monday, August 31, 2009
A Funky Return?
I talked to a friend tonight who's a member of The Cripple Creek Theatre Company. He said the company is looking to lease the building that previously housed much-loved jazz venue The Funky Butt. He said the company is interested in using the space for productions and possible concerts. Of course, this is all on the horizon, but even the possibility of it warms my heart. Just to step foot in that building again would be nice, even if the name and purpose of the space was different.
Concert Review: Downtown Brown at The Circle Bar on August 30, 2009
I was sold on Downtown Brown when during their cover of Michael Jackson's "Wanna Be Startin' Something," lead singer/guitarist Neil P. was reciting "Ma Ma Se, Ma Ma Sa, Ma Ma Coo Sa" while fake crying. I'm not sure exactly why it was funny, but I was laughing hard and happy these dudes from Detroit were at The Circle Bar.
The party rock trio were tight and composed of accomplished musicians I could see tackling Rush and Tool covers(drummer had a double bass). They certainly didn't take themselves that seriously, though. While changing mood and tempo(from death metal to reggae), Mr. Bungle style, Neil P. was likely to be singing about mullets, tanning salons, or werewolves. These guys were weird--Frank Zappa style.
Though it's been a while since I've needed a message of noncomformity, it was still fun to hear them rail against frats, Maxim Magazine, girls who go to tanning salons("Orange Bitch"), and the conformity of the noncomformists, The Warped Tour("Sit in the Pit"). That last one was probably the funniest. Neil P. went pre-puberty with his voice and became the character of a teenage boy trying to have a romantic evening with his girlfriend in the pit. A high point was when the band played rank John Mayer-type music while spouting some pretty offensive lyrics. And then how bout the time Neil P. played a dreadful solo, hitting all the wrong notes, just for comedy's sake? Too much good stuff happened.
Neil P. was a constant ball of energy. He made his mark when he got face to face with one audience member and contorted his face to say, "Look at this awesome solo I'm playing! How am I doin' it?! How amazing am I?!" At random points during the set, he got up close and personal with those at the bar he felt weren't paying enough attention.
Downtown Brown started the set by introducing themselves as the country's premier Sublime tribute band. Neil P. said, "This song is called 'Wrong Way.'" And then they went into some death metal.
The party rock trio were tight and composed of accomplished musicians I could see tackling Rush and Tool covers(drummer had a double bass). They certainly didn't take themselves that seriously, though. While changing mood and tempo(from death metal to reggae), Mr. Bungle style, Neil P. was likely to be singing about mullets, tanning salons, or werewolves. These guys were weird--Frank Zappa style.
Though it's been a while since I've needed a message of noncomformity, it was still fun to hear them rail against frats, Maxim Magazine, girls who go to tanning salons("Orange Bitch"), and the conformity of the noncomformists, The Warped Tour("Sit in the Pit"). That last one was probably the funniest. Neil P. went pre-puberty with his voice and became the character of a teenage boy trying to have a romantic evening with his girlfriend in the pit. A high point was when the band played rank John Mayer-type music while spouting some pretty offensive lyrics. And then how bout the time Neil P. played a dreadful solo, hitting all the wrong notes, just for comedy's sake? Too much good stuff happened.
Neil P. was a constant ball of energy. He made his mark when he got face to face with one audience member and contorted his face to say, "Look at this awesome solo I'm playing! How am I doin' it?! How amazing am I?!" At random points during the set, he got up close and personal with those at the bar he felt weren't paying enough attention.
Downtown Brown started the set by introducing themselves as the country's premier Sublime tribute band. Neil P. said, "This song is called 'Wrong Way.'" And then they went into some death metal.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Concert Review: Alex McMurray at d.b.a. on August 28, 2009
I'm not sure if I've ever seen Alex McMurray so animated. At his CD release party for "How To Be a Cannonball" at d.b.a. Friday night, the less-than-bubbly and hard-to-impress McMurray shook off his low-key demeanor during his band's more raucous songs. He seemed pushed to new heights by drummer/vocalist Carlo Nuccio and keyboardist/accordionist Bob Andrews, who provided a solid foundation lined with sharp edges. I could certainly see their spontaneous flourishes sparking a brain fever in McMurray. I know it happened in me. The danger element was elevated because of so much push and pull in the music, and as a result, the music rocked hard. McMurray was possessed by the spirit, disjointedly jumping to and fro while burning off impressive solos. Like he couldn't get it out fast enough, never play fast enough.
The older crowd left over from Ingrid Lucia's happy hour set tried in vain to dance to some of the mid-tempo numbers, which were just as likely to change direction, tempo, and mood. They were stubborn about dancing, as if they wouldn't know how to enjoy the music any other way. This was annoying to me and I'm sure a couple other people the dancers bumped into on their way to drunk heaven.
A highlight of the first set was the album's title track, a delightful tale about apprenticing at the circus. At the end of the song, Nuccio played a snare roll that recalled the same sound you hear before a human cannonball is launched. When Nuccio stopped the roll by hitting his snare hard, he made a rainbow motion over his head with his right hand. Besides the great music, quirky moments like these were a reason why McMurray's band was so fun to watch. Each member looked like he was having a grand ole time, but Nuccio was the main jokester, sending seat-of-his-pants, "yeah, i just did that" smiles to bassist/vocalist Joe Cabral during songs and cracking jokes on the mic between them. A second highlight was "The Woman I Love," which featured all three vocalists. Even though a new song, the crowd took to it well. It built and built into a fraternal euphoria, a chant of stubborness that the audience took on.
Cabral is an excellent player, but he seemed out of place, less than confident, and less than a presence on this night. He was laying back when he should have pounding. Matt Perrine works better in that spot.
The older crowd left over from Ingrid Lucia's happy hour set tried in vain to dance to some of the mid-tempo numbers, which were just as likely to change direction, tempo, and mood. They were stubborn about dancing, as if they wouldn't know how to enjoy the music any other way. This was annoying to me and I'm sure a couple other people the dancers bumped into on their way to drunk heaven.
A highlight of the first set was the album's title track, a delightful tale about apprenticing at the circus. At the end of the song, Nuccio played a snare roll that recalled the same sound you hear before a human cannonball is launched. When Nuccio stopped the roll by hitting his snare hard, he made a rainbow motion over his head with his right hand. Besides the great music, quirky moments like these were a reason why McMurray's band was so fun to watch. Each member looked like he was having a grand ole time, but Nuccio was the main jokester, sending seat-of-his-pants, "yeah, i just did that" smiles to bassist/vocalist Joe Cabral during songs and cracking jokes on the mic between them. A second highlight was "The Woman I Love," which featured all three vocalists. Even though a new song, the crowd took to it well. It built and built into a fraternal euphoria, a chant of stubborness that the audience took on.
Cabral is an excellent player, but he seemed out of place, less than confident, and less than a presence on this night. He was laying back when he should have pounding. Matt Perrine works better in that spot.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
"Wait, did you just say there's a drunk at The Julep Room?!"
My Mom and StepDad just moved to Ocean Springs, MS from Kenner, and while passing through town on my way back from a three day vacation in Gulf Shores, I visited with them and picked up a copy of local newspaper The Gazette. Now, I know David Letterman has already made fun of Ocean Springs for their uneventful and eccentric police blotter, but after seeing it for myself, I felt the need to revisit the topic. The reports are just too funny. I wonder if the people of Ocean Springs know how silly these sound to people who live in cities with crime problems. I guess it's relativity.
--A man reported his conpany cell phone lost.
--A threat was reported on the 3700 block of Cabildo Place
--A knife was found on the 100 block of Hickory Dr.
--A drunk was reported at The Julep Room
--A mental case was reported on the 400 block of Bills Ave.
--There was a report of littering on the 300 block of Trentwood Dr.
--There was a report of joyriding at 3109 Bienville Blvd.
--A paper delivery person reported that a person was lying under the truck in the driveway
--A man reported his conpany cell phone lost.
--A threat was reported on the 3700 block of Cabildo Place
--A knife was found on the 100 block of Hickory Dr.
--A drunk was reported at The Julep Room
--A mental case was reported on the 400 block of Bills Ave.
--There was a report of littering on the 300 block of Trentwood Dr.
--There was a report of joyriding at 3109 Bienville Blvd.
--A paper delivery person reported that a person was lying under the truck in the driveway
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Concert Review: I, Octopus at The Circle Bar on August 21, 2009
With new stickers and t-shirts in hand and the band's first full length, "I'd Rather be a Lightning Rod Than a Seismograph," about to arrive on their doorstep, I Octopus rolled into The Circle Bar Friday night for a 65 minute set.
The last concert review I wrote about the local instrumental rock trio was for a Twiropa show back in 2005, when former Rotary Downser and current A Living Soundtracker Matt Aguiliz was on drums. They've improved a great deal since then and even since the last time I saw them proper, maybe about six months ago. I remember them leaving room for improvisation, which led to noise tirades that sometimes didn't flesh out. That's not to say they weren't a great show back then. They were, showing off the same sense of adventure and melody they possess today. But, now, their songs seem to be more streamlined, more purposeful, more direct. When the noise jams hit, they're within a structure, within a pre-set field of dynamics.
The group's songwriting has improved, and as a result, their nuance has deepened. There might be three or four mood changes in one song. They rock out, take the volume down, rock out, then take the volume down for half as long, unexpectedly kicking ass(who's writing this, my long lost trucker twin?). In other words, their diversions are smart and welcomed.
Instrumental music isn't the easiest thing to sell, but with their songcraft at such a level, I'm excited to see what kind of friends I, Octopus can make on their upcoming first tour.
The last concert review I wrote about the local instrumental rock trio was for a Twiropa show back in 2005, when former Rotary Downser and current A Living Soundtracker Matt Aguiliz was on drums. They've improved a great deal since then and even since the last time I saw them proper, maybe about six months ago. I remember them leaving room for improvisation, which led to noise tirades that sometimes didn't flesh out. That's not to say they weren't a great show back then. They were, showing off the same sense of adventure and melody they possess today. But, now, their songs seem to be more streamlined, more purposeful, more direct. When the noise jams hit, they're within a structure, within a pre-set field of dynamics.
The group's songwriting has improved, and as a result, their nuance has deepened. There might be three or four mood changes in one song. They rock out, take the volume down, rock out, then take the volume down for half as long, unexpectedly kicking ass(who's writing this, my long lost trucker twin?). In other words, their diversions are smart and welcomed.
Instrumental music isn't the easiest thing to sell, but with their songcraft at such a level, I'm excited to see what kind of friends I, Octopus can make on their upcoming first tour.
Friday, August 21, 2009
R.I.P. Coach Rodney Louque
It's hard to imagine my life without Coach Louque having been in it. He was my track and field and cross country coach at Jesuit from 1991-1996. Those track meets in eighth grade and those cross country meets--all those Saturday mornings at the Lakefront--those meets we travelled to as a team--the way that I learned to push myself as a runner and a person--the fact that most of the friendships that I still maintain came directly from track and cross country. I'm scared of who I'd be without Coach Louque in my life. Without those friends, without cross country...I don't know...I'd be a worse person, that's for sure.
Coach Louque has affected my life to such a degree that I can't fathom it. I love that man, and I thank him.
Visitation will take place Friday, August 21 from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m.
at the Garden of Memories on Airline Highway. Visitation will also
be on Saturday, August 22 beginning at 9 a.m. in the
Chapel of the North American Martyrs on the campus
of Jesuit High School. A Mass will be celebrated at Noon,
followed by burial in the Garden of Memories.
In accordance with the wishes of the family, donations may be made to the general scholarship fund of either Jesuit High School (4133 Banks St.; N.O. LA 70119) or Catholic High School of New Iberia (1301 Delasalle Dr.; New Iberia, LA 70560-6790). Indicate your donation is in memory of Rodney Louque. If you wish to send flowers,
send them to the Garden of Memories; they will move them here for Saturday’s services.
An article taken from www.jesuitnola.com about Coach Louque:
Rodney Louque, a beloved teacher and coach at Jesuit High School for 23 years who exhibited enthusiasm, compassion, dedication, and spirituality in the classroom as well as on the field, died on Wednesday morning following a courageous four-year battle against cancer.
Mr. Louque was 65-years-old and, since arriving at Jesuit in 1986, had taught biology and physical science while juggling coaching responsibilities for Jesuit’s football, track, and cross country teams.
Coach Louque was married for 40 years to Jeanie Stein Louque, who teaches computer science at Jesuit High School. They have three daughters and six grandchildren. One of their grandsons, Tyler Gonzales, is a Blue Jay and member of the Class of 2013.
“The entire Jesuit community extends its heartfelt condolences and prayers to Coach Louque’s family,” said Michael Giambelluca, principal of Jesuit High School, who added that Coach Louque could have elected to retire any time after his cancer was diagnosed in spring 2005.
“But the most important thing to him was continuing to teach and coach,” said Giambelluca. “Coach Louque wanted to live life to the fullest by serving as an example for high school students and athletes everywhere that we all face challenges in life, and we must face those challenges head on and never give up.”
Coach Louque’s battle against the disease involved aggressive chemotherapy and radiation treatments that frequently left him exhausted and depleted of energy. Yet, even after teaching several classes, he could often be seen wearing a big straw hat and sitting in a chair under the shade of a large oak tree bordering the Will Clark Field behind Jesuit while his team practiced nearby.
“He pushed himself to attend most practices and competitions despite the ill effects from his treatments,” said David Moreau, Jesuit’s athletic director. “We all felt very fortunate whenever he was seen sitting under the oaks calling out instructions and words of encouragement to his team. I know that his students and players also felt extremely grateful for his dedication to teaching and coaching.”
Whether teaching biology or physical science, Coach Louque came to class prepared and knowledgeable about his course material. He always began class with a prayer and enjoyed a great rapport with his students. Although he admitted his organizational skills could be better, Coach Louque wrote that he hoped his students would judge him as a teacher who “really cared and loved them unconditionally.”
Over the years, Coach Louque served as an assistant coach for Jesuit’s football, cross country, and track teams. For a time, he was also head coach of Jesuit’s track team as well as the cross country team. One of the highlights of his head coaching career was when the 2003 Blue Jay cross country team won the state championship. It was the first of four consecutive state titles that the Jesuit cross country team brought home.
Coach Louque received a bachelor of sciences degree in science and physical education in 1969 from the University of Southwestern Louisiana (USL) in Lafayette (now ULL). He immediately started his teaching and coaching career at Hanson Memorial High School in Franklin, LA. During this time, he finished work on his Masters degree in education at USL.
Coach Louque taught and coached at several high schools before signing on at Jesuit High School, including Catholic High School (New Iberia), Vermilion Catholic High School (Abbeville), and St. Charles Catholic High School (LaPlace).
He believed that teachers at Jesuit High School should always be truthful, God-fearing, and embracing of diversity. “Put God above everything else and be truthful to the mission of Jesuit, which will continue to be a diverse community,” he wrote. “To know that my friendship with the teachers who I have taught with through the years was important to them and myself is how I hope my success as a leader will be judged. I would like to be known as a faith community builder.”
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Concert Review: The Blue Hit at The Circle Bar on August 19, 2009
The Blue Hit is exactly the type of indie/folk/pop band Paste Magazine would be all over, and I think I mighta scooped them for once. It felt like I was watching something special last night at The Circle Bar. Something I might tell people offhandedly three years from now, about how I saw them before they got semi-big, while sounding like a self-important ass in the process.
The Blue Hit is an Austin trio consisting of vocalist Grace Rowland, cellist David Moss, and acoustic guitarist John McGee.
Though McGee and Moss were obviously accomplished musicians that I could see playing in trad jazz bands on the side, most of my attention went to how well Rowland acted out the lyrics. She was a little too good. It was a bit uncomfortable, in a great way, as she narrated a song about cheating in a relationship while her face and voice displayed the condescension and lack of remorse in the cheater.
When she took on a character, she really took it on. If there was a martial tone to the song, she marched, and if a song displayed exasperation, she threw her right hand up to her hairline. She gave herself to the audience, leaving no comfort zone she could revert to. She was vibrant, 100% there--a method musician.
One highlight was a song of spooky, pastoral lyrics. The music boasted beautifully constructed soundscapes that were theatrical, and with or without the vocals, would have sounded great on any horror movie soundtrack.
One thing I liked about this band is that mood was diverse. Another great song from the set was a heartbreaker that showcased the coupling of Rowland's soaring voice and the bowed cello. The cello is pretty great for making things sound sad.
Click on the title link for their Myspace page.
The Blue Hit is an Austin trio consisting of vocalist Grace Rowland, cellist David Moss, and acoustic guitarist John McGee.
Though McGee and Moss were obviously accomplished musicians that I could see playing in trad jazz bands on the side, most of my attention went to how well Rowland acted out the lyrics. She was a little too good. It was a bit uncomfortable, in a great way, as she narrated a song about cheating in a relationship while her face and voice displayed the condescension and lack of remorse in the cheater.
When she took on a character, she really took it on. If there was a martial tone to the song, she marched, and if a song displayed exasperation, she threw her right hand up to her hairline. She gave herself to the audience, leaving no comfort zone she could revert to. She was vibrant, 100% there--a method musician.
One highlight was a song of spooky, pastoral lyrics. The music boasted beautifully constructed soundscapes that were theatrical, and with or without the vocals, would have sounded great on any horror movie soundtrack.
One thing I liked about this band is that mood was diverse. Another great song from the set was a heartbreaker that showcased the coupling of Rowland's soaring voice and the bowed cello. The cello is pretty great for making things sound sad.
Click on the title link for their Myspace page.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Concert Review: Eric Lindell at The Circle Bar on August 17, 2009
A few songs into the third set, Eric Lindell and his trio pulled out "Hard to Believe." In front of seven hardcore fans who survived a packed house, Lindell had such an arsenal of songs that he could still shower them with a great one.
Though it was wistful, tender, and heartbroken, the song was sexy and full of efficient, spacious groove.
The same groove that the band found throughout the night. It seemed to appear from playing minimally and well-arranged R&B. Though there were some impressive, sudden, twists and turns in the song structures, what each song went back to again and again was a solid pulse that, for example, Lindell could solo around. His solos were always pleasing and tasteful. A succession of yesses.
Though some of the lyrics were obvious and a bit sappy, Lindell's choice of covers or originals was always ace. The music just works, is undeniable in such an intimate venue.
A beautiful commiseration. Warming the heart by breaking it a touch. Among friends.
Though it was wistful, tender, and heartbroken, the song was sexy and full of efficient, spacious groove.
The same groove that the band found throughout the night. It seemed to appear from playing minimally and well-arranged R&B. Though there were some impressive, sudden, twists and turns in the song structures, what each song went back to again and again was a solid pulse that, for example, Lindell could solo around. His solos were always pleasing and tasteful. A succession of yesses.
Though some of the lyrics were obvious and a bit sappy, Lindell's choice of covers or originals was always ace. The music just works, is undeniable in such an intimate venue.
A beautiful commiseration. Warming the heart by breaking it a touch. Among friends.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Concert Review: The Armed Forces at The Circle Bar on August 16, 2009
The guitarist jumped off the kick drum but didn't hit the ground when the drummer hit his cymbal. Still, A for effort.
This power pop quartet from Nashville is still learning its way around a stage(they look like they're 21 or 22), but their songs leave little to be desired. Catchy melodies--check. Two-part harmonies--check. Attention to dynamics--check.
There's a reason they're called The Armed Forces. They certainly sound like they've listened to that Elvis Costello and The Attractions album over and over again. Add a bit of The Cars, an open ride cymbal, and the bitter wit of Costello and the heart on sleeve lyrics of The Replacements and you'll be pretty close to the presentation of The Armed Forces.
The leader's guitar and vocals got lost in the mix, but that's about the only criticism I have for the band. Just keep kickin' out the subtle nuances. This pop rock songwriting thing isn't easy.
This power pop quartet from Nashville is still learning its way around a stage(they look like they're 21 or 22), but their songs leave little to be desired. Catchy melodies--check. Two-part harmonies--check. Attention to dynamics--check.
There's a reason they're called The Armed Forces. They certainly sound like they've listened to that Elvis Costello and The Attractions album over and over again. Add a bit of The Cars, an open ride cymbal, and the bitter wit of Costello and the heart on sleeve lyrics of The Replacements and you'll be pretty close to the presentation of The Armed Forces.
The leader's guitar and vocals got lost in the mix, but that's about the only criticism I have for the band. Just keep kickin' out the subtle nuances. This pop rock songwriting thing isn't easy.
Concert Review: Rotary Downs at Le Bon Temps Roule on August 14, 2009
Going to see a Rotary Downs concert is like catching up with an old friend. Things may change in my life, but there's Rotary Downs, solid.
I love seeing them at Le Bon Temps for two reasons: 1. it's a powder keg of a rock venue, even though that's not what you normally see in there. It's got a basement party, everybody get drunk and crazy vibe. 2. It's three blocks from my apartment, so I can drink a lot.
I was hoping they'd already be going when I got there at 10:50, but they didn't start 'till around 11:30. When they did, the room was full, and some friends showed up to make the night more fun: Patrick, Colby, Marc, Tamara, Mary, and Kathleen.
I got up in the front row and was asked to scoot aside by some dude. Really? At a rock show? I obliged, though, and laughed with Patrick about it before the band started the set with "Lantern," my favorite song off their last album, "Chained to the Chariot."
They came out with that one almost three years ago, and along with the band, I'm a little anxious for the release of the new album they've been working on with The Living Room, The Music Shed, and Mike Napolitano. Their concerts have become more and more new song-centric, and it'd be nice to have a reference point.
When the band was slipping in a few new songs into their set, I didn't care, but then there was a point when they were playing a bunch more new stuff when I hadn't had a chance to get to know the material. I wasn't digging that. But now, I've come back around, cause I've just seen them enough that I know the new stuff pretty well. My friend Mary hadn't seen them since around their last record release, and she said they sounded different. I can imagine.
I like that the band is evolving, taking a chance with more expansive songs, while still sounding like themselves. I'm slow to make too many assumptions about the new material as a whole, but it does seem like they've moved away from the shorter, poppier songs and embraced a more epic, loping, and psychedelic style.
The band was pretty tight last night, and their cramped quarters seemed to encourage that. Bassist Jason Rhein was right on top of drummer Zack Smith. They were eye to eye the whole night, trading smiles and knowing glances. I love watching a band that looks like they're having fun. It makes it that much easier to get with them and have fun, too.
Rotary Downs played a long first set, took a decent break, and came back with a set that I didn't see the end of. I couldn't hang. They musta gone 'till around 3. The best part of the second set was guitarist Chris Columbo's note-for-note solo during The Cars' "Just What I Needed."
P.S. In between song breaks, Colby turns to me and says, "You know they're one of the best bands in the country, right?" And I guess I kinda thought that in the back of my head, but it always sounded crazy because they're from here. It doesn't sound so crazy now that someone else has said it. It sounds right on.
I love seeing them at Le Bon Temps for two reasons: 1. it's a powder keg of a rock venue, even though that's not what you normally see in there. It's got a basement party, everybody get drunk and crazy vibe. 2. It's three blocks from my apartment, so I can drink a lot.
I was hoping they'd already be going when I got there at 10:50, but they didn't start 'till around 11:30. When they did, the room was full, and some friends showed up to make the night more fun: Patrick, Colby, Marc, Tamara, Mary, and Kathleen.
I got up in the front row and was asked to scoot aside by some dude. Really? At a rock show? I obliged, though, and laughed with Patrick about it before the band started the set with "Lantern," my favorite song off their last album, "Chained to the Chariot."
They came out with that one almost three years ago, and along with the band, I'm a little anxious for the release of the new album they've been working on with The Living Room, The Music Shed, and Mike Napolitano. Their concerts have become more and more new song-centric, and it'd be nice to have a reference point.
When the band was slipping in a few new songs into their set, I didn't care, but then there was a point when they were playing a bunch more new stuff when I hadn't had a chance to get to know the material. I wasn't digging that. But now, I've come back around, cause I've just seen them enough that I know the new stuff pretty well. My friend Mary hadn't seen them since around their last record release, and she said they sounded different. I can imagine.
I like that the band is evolving, taking a chance with more expansive songs, while still sounding like themselves. I'm slow to make too many assumptions about the new material as a whole, but it does seem like they've moved away from the shorter, poppier songs and embraced a more epic, loping, and psychedelic style.
The band was pretty tight last night, and their cramped quarters seemed to encourage that. Bassist Jason Rhein was right on top of drummer Zack Smith. They were eye to eye the whole night, trading smiles and knowing glances. I love watching a band that looks like they're having fun. It makes it that much easier to get with them and have fun, too.
Rotary Downs played a long first set, took a decent break, and came back with a set that I didn't see the end of. I couldn't hang. They musta gone 'till around 3. The best part of the second set was guitarist Chris Columbo's note-for-note solo during The Cars' "Just What I Needed."
P.S. In between song breaks, Colby turns to me and says, "You know they're one of the best bands in the country, right?" And I guess I kinda thought that in the back of my head, but it always sounded crazy because they're from here. It doesn't sound so crazy now that someone else has said it. It sounds right on.
Concert Review: Hairspray Blues at The Circle Bar on August 12, 2009
This punk band from Portland, Oregon was all about speed, volume(in the form of constant thrashing cymbals or pounding toms) and angry release.
Of less concern was the tightness of the music. The duo of drums and guitar/vocals was loose, but their attitude kept me engrossed in their performance.
Drummer Leslie Stabile dramatically threw her arms around the kit and made sexy eyes at her guitarist husband Kyle Stabile. In between screams and out-of-breath tirades, he smiled right back.
The band was a lot of fun, an invigorating mix of hotrod garage and Motorhead.
Of less concern was the tightness of the music. The duo of drums and guitar/vocals was loose, but their attitude kept me engrossed in their performance.
Drummer Leslie Stabile dramatically threw her arms around the kit and made sexy eyes at her guitarist husband Kyle Stabile. In between screams and out-of-breath tirades, he smiled right back.
The band was a lot of fun, an invigorating mix of hotrod garage and Motorhead.
On The Road with Gal Holiday and The Honky Tonk Revue
After three sets of country in two days, I felt raw. These tales of woe, especially the ballads, were getting to me. I stood on the side of the stage as Gal Holiday and The Honky Tonk Revue played their second set of the Natchitoches Folk Festival on Saturday, July 18th. I was tagging along with the local country cover band for their weekend journey into the hills of Louisiana, and I was starting to fall in love with their songs. When the tempo slowed and the focus went to the voice of Vanessa Niemann(a.k.a. Gal Holiday), she dazzled. Anyone can have a great voice, but that's not the point. Niemann infused hers with real emotion, real hurt, like she was conjuring something universal from wherever they kept the lost souls.
"I select songs based on my passion for them and my life experience and whether they fit my voice," Niemann said during a recent interview. "I'm singing my story through characters. If a song sounds killer with my voice, it's more likely we'll perform it."
The heart-wrenching didn't end with Niemann. During a ballad solo, guitarist Dave James hit me with a beautifully minimal, winsome performance, the kind where every note hurts to hear. A beautiful malady that made my heart heavy, but in a good way. The band was so tight they sounded like a recording, commissioning couples to ballroom dance and fill the floor inside Northwestern State University's Prather Coliseum. The group was like a machine but not quite--almost perfect.
Along with classic country, The Honky Tonk Revue covers rockabilly and western swing. Typical sets include songs from Hank Williams, Johnny Cash, Patsy Cline, Tammy Wynette, and Merle Haggard, to name a few. Last month in between sets at The Circle Bar Niemann asked if I wanted to travel with the group to Leesville and then up to Natchitoches. All I could think was, "Rock and roll road trip!" I needed to get out the city, and I figured hanging with the band would be fun and that maybe something interesting would happen. I couldn't have imagined it would entail hip hop line dancing in Leesville.
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After meeting up with Niemann and bassist Dave Brouillette at drummer James Clark's house at noon on Friday in New Orleans, we took off in Brouillette's white prison van, metal grates still covering the side windows(guitarist Dave James and fiddler Clyde Thompson took seperate cars). There's something very appropiate about travelling down the highway in a prison van with a country band. Country music played on the stereo as I sat in the back and talked with Clark about John Cage, the destruction of ego in songwriting, prepared piano, and drummer JoJo Mayer's popular DVD, Secret Weapons for The Modern Drummer. Clark later read his Anne Rice novel while I took in what little scenery there was: pastures and corn fields.
After a five hour drive, we pulled into Leesville, which is 50 miles west of Alexandria and the home of Fort Polk. When the band played at The Sugar Shack later that night, they were actually just south in New Llano, LA, a sleazy, dilapidated stretch of highway that offered Daiquiri "specialists" and a strip club. I cringe at what the girls in that place must look like.
Before hitting the motel, the full band met up inside Big Dog Country KVVP for an interview with Rik Barnickle. Rik is a large, gregarious fellow, the kind of man who was born to play Santa Claus at Christmas. Since he comped the band's dinner and motel cost and drinks, Rik was a very real reason they came to town. Rik saw Gal Holiday a few years back, and ever since he had been trying to get them into Leesville. He played the group's music the week leading up to the show and was also giving away Gal Holiday t-shirts over the air.
The band walked into The Sugar Shack around 7:30 to setup for their 9-1 a.m. gig. The venue's about the size of The Howlin' Wolf, with Nascar hoods and driver portraits on the walls and tiny stock car lights hanging over the pool tables. About one out of every four men there sported cowboy hats, and almost everyone was fairly unattractive. Not super ugly or a scary, disorienting mixture of backwoods funk a la Ponchatoula's Strawberry Fest. No, these people ran together. They just seemed like they were the bottom of the food chain, like anyone who was attractive in Leesville left long ago for greener pastures.
After the band's first song, Vanessa gave a history and told a story about the upcoming song, an ingenious ice-breaker that she'd use throughout the set to keep connecting with the audience. She has experience with that. As a child, Vanessa wanted to be an actress, and she even went so far as to go to a magnet school for acting. It was only after she realized she could incorporate her acting talents into a singing performance that she started to devote more and more of her creative time to music.
"Onstage I'm performing. I'm playing a character," Niemann said.
Niemann is direct, biting, witty, and businesslike. Gal Holiday, on the other hand, is all earnest, welcoming smile, posture and presentation, a vision of country that's reminiscent of Reese Witherspoon's take on June Carter Cash. Speaking of Carter Cash, the crux of every Gal Holiday performance and the song in which she puts her acting skills to best use is her duet with Dave James on "Jackson," originally performed by Johnny Cash and June. Niemann and James become the bickering couple, James singing low and Niemann hamming it up and striking poses.
"Gal Holiday is a fixed persona because I want them to be more than just cover songs," Niemann said. "I want it to be a show, and I don't want the fact that we're a cover band to overshadow the intense musicianship in this band."
The best example of formal musicianship in The Revue is Brouillette, who studied upright bass at Northwestern and was close to getting his music degree before he felt the need to get the hell out of Natchitoches. When it comes to solos, Brouillette impresses more than anyone else in the band. His speed and his flamming on his gut strings made a hardcore, cowboy hat wearin', tobacco-chewin' dude at The Sugar Shack say, "Now that's what I'm talkin' bout!" It's fun to watch Dave James look at Brouillette in appreciation and a bit of wonder, time after time, like he's never seen it before. Dave James is a pretty awesome player himself, a man who could solo all day, a man who makes me scared of his ability. It's like the music flows through him, like he's made himself such a conduit that he doesn't even have to think about what he's gonna do next--it just happens. The band member that plays with the least fat is Clark. He plays only what the song needs, nothing more. Barely any fills. He performs each song the same way gig after gig, laying out a solid map the rest of the players can follow and subsequently get tighter off of. Next time you see the band, check out his huge, ridiculous pocket. It would take a lot to get him off his beat. Last but not least there's Clyde Thompson on fiddle, a wonderful complementer who's such a silent force that when he plays rhythm on songs that weren't recorded with a fiddle, you don't realize it until later.
During the first set Rik sat down next to me and said, "Watch out for The Vietnamese girl in black. She hustles the G.I.'s and she'll take you for it." This was a sizeable, tough, possibly confused crowd that was more used to contemporary country bands. Dancing was minimal. I felt like they sat back and judged the band, not feeling pushed at all to get into the music. As long as they were with friend and drinking and playing pool, well, the music was secondary. The applause was minimal between songs. They livened up real quick, though, and started line dancing on the wooden, newly buffed floor when the DJ played between sets. I stared in amazement when people started performing a pre-approved line dance to a hip hop tune that was popular a few years back. As if they thought, "Oh, it's that song, and this is the way we dance to that song." Pretty much the most surreal and disorienting moment of the trip.
During the second set the Revue performed one of two originals, "Blue Ridge Baby," a song about Niemann's rural roots in the mountains of Western Maryland, where bluegrass and folk music was everywhere. As a child Niemann got into rockabilly and only later progressed into country. Her parents were into old country and the type of music Gal Holiday performs, but at the time she thought of country as the contemporary stuff she heard on the radio. She went to barn dances and folk festivals--exactly the kind they hold in Natchitoches.
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The drive up to Louisiana's oldest town the next day was beautiful. The sloping hills, the thin tall trees. The first set of the day was a test for the band. This was an older, more family-oriented crowd not known for their acceptance of rockabilly in their country. Vanessa's tattoos probably weren't helping, either. The Revue acquiesced a bit by taking "Cocaine Blues" out of their sets, but ultimately they didn't change their approach. Their first song was an up-tempo barn burner full of solos that left one woman with arms folded and a complete look of horror. But, as the set progressed, many took to the dancefloor, and by the end of the set, a sizeable crowd had gathered behind those seated.
People is Natchitoches are pretty serious about their crafts. There was a guy making violins at the craft fair. Making. Violins. Let that sink in. After I read through his illustrated guide to making a violin, I was thoroughly impressed and amazed at how many different things can go wrong during the process. One woman was selling lye soap and giving out her recipe, while others were making baskets and spooling wool to make shirts. The best was the family dyeing eggs with successive patterns before adding minute detail with a tiny, heated utensil tipped with ink.
Between the Revue's first and second sets, I took a moment for myself and sat under a oak tree on the edge of Chaplin Lake. The greenery rustled with the wind, and after I calmed myself, the speed of the river flow seemed to coincide with Radiohead's "Pyramid Song." I drifted and I felt alright.
Monday, June 4, 2007
14 U.S. Soldiers Killed Over The Weekend
BAGHDAD, Iraq (CNN) -- Fourteen U.S. soldiers were killed by bombs and small-arms fire in Iraq over the weekend, the U.S. military said Sunday, as factional violence continued to ravage soldiers and civilians alike.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Unedited Alex McMurray intro and interview
I didn't know New Orleans music before Alex McMurray, just like I didn't know rock before Nirvana. I had heard it, of course, at parades and various private celebrations, but it wasn't until I dug in with him and other ubiquitous musicians on the blooming '90's scene like Jonathan Freilich, Kevin O'Day, and Rob Wagner, that I understood how loose, colorful, funny, and genre-boundless it could be. Whether it was playing with All That at The Dragon's Den, Tin Men and Royal Fingerbowl at The Matador, or by himself at the Circle Bar, McMurray was a large part of my local awakening.
Over the years McMurray has established himself as the most talented songwriter in New Orleans. Like any poet McMurray is adept at describing the cracks in between the human experience, but his empathy for eccentrics and fuckups is really where it's at. Through his heartbreaking character studies he's been able to expose the beauty in people's imperfections and the way they disintegrate. Luckily for us, he peppers his songs with wry humor and is also able to celebrate the bouncier aspects of life, an example being the song "Cabral."
Those of you that enjoy his wicked lead guitar playing as much as his lyrical and compositional talents will love to know McMurray has more outlets than ever for soloing. Since sought-after performers like Freilich and O'Day have lost some of their bands to Katrina, I think I can confidently say that McMurray now plays with more groups than any other local musician--solo, Tin Men(the most genre-defying and unique local band), The Geraniums, 007, Happy Talk, Schatzy, and the Folk Rock Trio.
All this from a guy who isn't even supposed to be here. McMurray moved to New York in October of 2004, but after being encouraged by recently deceased Royal Fingerbowl record producer Keith Keller to return to New Orleans, McMurray and his wife, Kourtney, did just that in February of 2006.
"'Cause we're crazy," said McMurray over the phone recently in his half-serious, half tongue-in-cheek tone. "If you could do the stupidest thing you could think of, that would be it. Keith said 'you gotta be a part of the rebirth, blah, blah, blah,' and then the fucker croaks on us." Something to know now before we get into the mid-May interview I had with McMurray at his Bywater home is that you have to learn how to listen for the sentimentality that trickles through his grizzled veneer. Since returning he and his wife have become cultural leaders, creating Chazfest and the Fifth Season Summer Tuesday Nights, wherein the couple has and intends to continue showing movies on a screen in the beautiful backyard of The Truck Farm.
During the interview we focused on his new album, Guano and Nitrates, officially credited to The Valparaiso Men's Chorus. This is the chorus of local men he put together to sing as his band recorded sea chanties in November of 2004 at The Mermaid Lounge. The genesis for the idea came when McMurray sang sea chanties as Cap'n Sandy at Tokyo Disney in late 2002. Since the CD Release Party for the album at The Saturn Bar was such an out-of-control, drunk, rollicking success, look for more performances from the chorus in months to come.
Thanks to Kourtney for entertaining me with water, books, NPR(Andrei Codrescu!), footage of the CD release party, and a tour of the backyard while I waited for McMurray to join me for our interview.
AG: Kourtney told me you have a really interesting story.
AM: It's not that interesting. It's just that I was at Freedom Fest Sunday at the Circle Bar. I was standing there on the sidewalk. We had just played, with Luke(in The Happy Talk Band). This guy turns around and punches me in the face.
AG: Outta nowhere?
AM: He just wheeled around and clocked me.
AG: You hadn't been talking to him or anything?
AM: No. I've seen the guy around. I don't even know his name.
AG: In cold blood?
AM: He thought that I had spit on him.
AG: Oh.
AM: He said, "Dude, why'd you spit on me?" Well, there's people out there with water pistols. They had a water balloon launcher and water pistols and all sorts of shit like that. The guy, I guess, got squirted and he thought that I spit on him, so he turned around and fuckin' clocked me. Look at my lip. He turned my head all the way around and really fucked up my neck.
AG: What'd you do?
AM: I just stood there. I didn't fall down. I was in such shock that I was like, you know, "What?!" I guess most guys would have hit him back or something. After I thought about it for about thirty seconds I was, "Wait, I should go kick this guy's ass." It was the weirdest...
AG: He didn't apologize or anything.
AM: He did, of course. He apologized profusely, and all this. I still think it was a little bit overreacting, don't you think?
AG: Yeah, to not even ask, "Hey man, why'd you spit on me?"
AM: He just turned around and...
AG: The life and times.
AM: I was afraid you were gonna come over with some photographer or something.
AG: Are you still at the point where you get nervous onstage?
AM: Yeah, only if I'm singing. If I'm not singing, it's no problem. But, if it's songs I wrote, yeah.
AG: Even at the Wednesday night Circle Bar gigs that you do a lot?
AM: Yeah, I do.
AG: Cause sometimes you look detached.
AM: There's a lot of different factors involved. Who's in the audience? I get more nervous when there are people I know there. If it's people I don't know, I'm more relaxed.
AG: That makes sense.
AM: I get uptight when there are people there who are there every week. I'm like, "Oh, man, I have nothing new for these guys." That's a drag.
AG: Maybe they don't want anything new.
AM: But I feel like I owe it to them to at least have one thing that's different. That's the good part about that gig. It should force you to always be working on something new...
AG: Honing.
AM:...but unfortunately, the way I arrange my life, normally the first thing to get jetisoned is my own thing. There are all these other things that I'm doing. What kind of an idiot puts on a musical festival during Jazzfest? You're a working musician and you play, in like, six bands, and then you put on a festival?
AG:(laughing) You're trying to make it easy on yourself, obviously.
AM: What's the matter with me, you know?
AG: I think it's great. It seemed like it really worked out.
AM: Yeah, it worked out, but the night before Chazfest I was at my gig Wednesday night and I was looking at the clock, wondering when I could get outta there. I was operating on two hours sleep. And I had Joe, Doug, and Jonathan there. My mind was somewhere else. This was the Jazzfest gig. This was the gig I've been doing for years, and it should be a big night in my musical career, but it was the last thing on my mind. At that point, there's no point in bitching.
AG: It's already in motion.
AM: It's already happening. Make the best of it, that sorta thing.
AG: I wasn't there the year before, but there must have been more people this time around.
AM: There was a bigger turnout. Not by a whole lot, but there was more. The first year we had rain for four hours. As soon as it started, it started to rain. It didn't make people leave. It just made people not come. People had a great time, though. There was a lot more stress the first year. This year, it seemed like more of a machine. We switched it on, and it just sorta ran itself.
AG: So, next year, it'll be that much easier.
AM: (Laughs)Yeah, you'll see. Next year. Yeah, OK.
AG: Oh, no? Is that it?
AM: It could be. If we're gonna do it again--it's too much work for no money. It would have to be profitable. The amount of work that Kourtney did. The graphic design. Designing the postcards and the t-shirts and the ads and the signs. She works on that for months. It's gotta be done months in advance to get in the publications. The website and all this stuff. You spend a lot of time on the phone. Like me, I get the stage together, the sound together, book the bands, and you know, get the toilets. Stuff like that. We both work on it. It's a pretty tough racket.
AG: Even with the door, were y'all still in the red?
AM: If we lost money, it was insignificant, but if we made money, it was also insignificant. To do it next year...
AG: Maybe some real sponsors.
AM: Real sponsors and legit permits and we gotta make a lot of money. It's too much work. It was a great time and a great party, but I kinda need money(laughs).
AG:(laughs) Well, if people liked it enough, maybe you could raise the admission next year and people'd be willing to show their appreciation by paying it.
AM: Yeah, and maybe less bands. We gotta raise the profile of the thing, and that means corporate sponsors, which makes it kinda ugly. It's kinda tacky. Maybe we could get Abita to provide the beer.
AG: That's not so bad.
AM: That's not so bad, except a lot of people don't like the taste of Abita beer. Maybe Southern Comfort. Somebody was talking to me about some local company--New Orleans Rum. Things like that. We gotta know how to walk the fine line between solvency and tackiness.
AG: Why did it take you so long to release the sea chanty CD?
AM: Well, we recorded it right after I moved to New York. I moved to New York in October of 2004, and then we came back for Thanksgiving, and there had always been this talk of doing a sea chanty record, and Henry Griffin had this film project on me at Disney--interviews with me about this job. Out of the movie came the idea to record--I had had the idea in Japan to record these songs, but with the New Orleans thing, like with Carlo Nuccio playing drums. Get 20 drunken guys. I know exactly the guys I need for this job. They all showed up, and they all were great. So, it was basically a film project that begat a CD project. So, we did the recording at The Mermaid right before it closed, right before Thanksgiving '04. Jeff(Treffinger) did a mix, Clint(Coker) did a mix. There were these mixes, and the guys in the chorus were bitching at me because the chorus wasn't loud enough. I played it for Jonathan(Freilich), and he said(McMurray doing an amazingly spot-on Freilich voice imitation), "Oh, man, what is this? There's not enough chorus." I wanted more chorus, too. Anyway, at this point, The Mermaid was gone, and we had these mixes that weren't really happening, and, of course, August of 2005 rolls around. After that the sea chanty record went on the backburner. I was in New York, Jeff was in Texas, and Clint was somewhere, and we don't have a mix that people are happy with. It was all on analog tape--half inch tape. We had two rolls of tape. It was the last tapes e could get and the last tapes for purchase in Orleans Parish in 2004.
AG: How could it be the last tape?
AM: We got it from this store that was the only place you could get it, and it was closing down. We wanted to get six, but they only had two left, so we had to do only one take of every song. We had to decide then whether this was the take.
AG: Maybe it was better that way because you were more focused.
AM: Yeah. As you could tell by the record--very focused.
AG: I heard the record release party was less focused.
AM: The record was a testament to mayhem. But, it got done. It was great. Anyway, we had to do a transfer from analog to digital. We were gonna mix it on the machine, but the machine was mechanically flawed. It changed speeds, it had noise in it. Over here we transferred it to digital. After that we started doing mixes over here with Jack Neely, who runs the studio, and Ben Mumfrey. Ben did most of it. Then, it's gotta be mastered and artwork.
AG: Yeah, that makes sense. Everybody took a year after Katrina just to get back on track, so it makes sense.
AM: To me--it is a long time--but to get it done any faster, it would have to been done before Katrina, and I would have had to have been living down here because the mixes were coming in the mail, drips and drabs.
AG: How important was alcohol to the recording? I have this image of you plying the chorus with alcohol so you would get more of this drunken, all-for-one feel.
AM: It was definetely part of our focus. You can't have the yo-ho-ho without the bottle of rum. The overall gestalt was that we were gonna do it at The Mermaid, we were gonna be in a bar. It's gonna take the greater part of the evening. We're gonna start around five and then go 'till we're done. The guys would be able to come and go. It would be very loose that way. We'd learn the song and do it until we figured we got a good take, and then we'd move onto the next song. Meanwhile, there's a film crew, and everyone's drinking. The last tune we did was "Rio Grande." It was one of those moments where the chorus had had it. Half of them were outside...
AG: "When is this gonna be done?"
AM: Yeah.
AG: Or were they just too drunk?
AM: They were just too drunk and just worn out. I'll never forget that. There was a buzz, this terrible buzz. One of the microphones that was picking up Jonathan Freilich. He played a guitar solo on it. The mic on his amp had such an audible buzz, but nobody caught it.
AG: Because the voices were so loud?
AM: No, because, I guess because Jeff was wasted in the control room(laughs). There was so much mayhem that it got overlooked. That was like a nightmare, trying to get the buzz off the track.
AG: How did you decide to augment the way you traditionally see a sea chanty performed with more of this New Orleans sound?
AM: It's a natural thing. Me, Chaz, and Matt, The Tin Men, we were performing so much, we were sick of each other. For a sea chanty record--first of all, electronic instruments almost can't do it, even though I played an electric guitar. The tuba is a natural fit, the washboard seems like a natural fit, even though it's probably something you'd never see on a boat. We had pennywhistles, Rick Trolsen on trombone. The sea chanty purists would want nothing to do with this because trombones are way out, but we have bass drum and tuba, so it's kinda like a brass band approach to things. We also had accordion, fiddles, which are very traditional. We just wanted to get all these different flavors together and let it rip. When I was in Japan, I remember walking around, doing my job, which was walking around this restaurant playing "Drunken Sailor." One day I was playing it really fast, 'cause nobody's listening. I'm walking around in costume. They're all Japanese, and they don't understand a thing I'm saying. I'm playing with a swinging feel, the way it is on the record. I was like, "Man, when I get back home, I'm gonna get Carol Nuccio on this, and Matt Perrine, and we're gonna do this." I guess that was the genesis of the idea. The impetus was to do the songs with New Orleans instrumentation.
AG: I think it's much better than just doing the thousandth traditional sea chanty CD. You put your own slant on it.
AM: We're waiting to see how it fits into the sea chanty canon.
AG: There are webpages. I've seen webpages devoted to sea chanties.
AM: I've been to those sites.
AG: When I picture you performing in Japan, for some reason I picture you performing onstage, but no, you performed in a restaurant?
AM: I worked at a Donald's Boat Builders--was the name of the restaurant. No, it was called The Cape Cod Cookoff. The show was in a big, big dining hall with picnic benches, and on the stage was this half animatronic, half live action show. It was two shows alternating. One was Donald's Boat Builder's. It was Donald, Goofy, and Mickey trying to build a boat with all this mayhem going on around them. The shows were about seven minutes long. The other show was the Chipmunks doing something up there. There was a big boat on hydraulics with steam piped in and music--the voices were piped in. The people would get in costumes and just go up there and move around.
AG: Was it good?
AM: I never got to see it. Cause I would do five minutes in the restaurant between the Chipmunks show and The Donald Duck show. It was five minutes exactly. You had to time your set to be done exactly at five minutes. There were these audible cues you could hear. The boat was righting itself, preparing for the next show, and you could hear this hydraulic sound. You knew you had about fifteen seconds, so you wrapped it up. I was walking out the door as the music hit for the next show. You did it six times a day for six months. For the next fifteen minutes, I'd walk around outside in front. I was what they called an "atmosphere musician." When you go to Disneyworld and you see Mickey...
AG: Engaging the people.
AM: Yeah. I'm out there to be atmosphere. I'm in character. I had the sea captain costume. The boots, string tie, vest, pea coat, and hat. After fifteen minutes--I had a stage manager who would follow me around--he'sd say, "It's time to go in," so we'd find this secret passageway that led to the backstage.
AG: Were you familiar with the sea chanties on the record before you left for Japan?
AM: No. I tried like hell to find sea chanty records. This was in 2001 that I first became aware of the job. It was Adam Shipley(from Tipitina's) that put me in touch--he's from Florida, so he knows the guy who books for Disney. He called Adam and said, "I need a guy who can play banjo or guitar and sing sea chanties," and Adam called Glenn Hartman(from The Klezmer All-Stars). He said, "Glenn, who do you think we should get for this?" Glenn said, "Why not Alex," and after Adam stopped laughing, Glenn said, "No, really. Call Alex. I betcha he'd do it. It's just weird enough." So, there was a website called songsofthesea.com. I went to that. It's still up. It's got a different name, now(contemplator.com/sea). They had these MIDI files. If you took a Casio keyboard and played "Blow The Man Down" through it, that's what it would sound like(McMurray imitates it by singing the "Blow" melody like a Wizard of Oz munchkin). You could read the lyrics and hear the tune, so you could pretty much tell how the line goes, though there's no singing. Just the melody. So I went through all these tunes, and I went to amazon.com and found one record--it's called Men's Corral. It was Burl Ives corny. It's lovely in a weird way. I liked the record. It's the only one I could find. It's really not folk music. It's like something for a recital hall.
AG: Was it a little bit too put together?
AM: It sounds like a 20-to-30 man chorus with four parts--basses, baritones, tenors...Very clean, refined, spohisticated arrangements of these tunes. I'm in the dark here. I ask Shipley to ask Disney, "Please, what are the tunes?" They're like, "Oh, don't worry about it."
AG: You wanna do your research. You wanna do a good job.
AM: I'm freakin' out. They didn't give me hardly any time. They hired me, and then I became nonplussed, and they were like, "We don't need you." Three months later, they're like, "DO YOU WANNA DO THE DISNEY JOB?! CAN YOU DO IT?! WE NEED TO KNOW NOW." Ok, but can you give me 24 hours? "OK, BUT 24 HOURS." Less than a month from then, I was on a plane. So, I'm trying to do all this research. They're like, "Don't worry about it. They'll show you what to do in Japan, on the other end." And I'm like, "That sounds fishy to me. That doesn't sound right." I gotta find--there's no sea chanty records on amazon.com. In 2002, none. At least, I couldn't find any. I looked everywhere. Then, I did this MIDI thing. I tried to learn--I did a video audition. There were three that I knew. I got the job, so those three weren't that bad. I did all this crazy preparation, visas and what not, get on the plane, get to Japan. Orientation meeting, and then finally I meet with the director of the show, who's Japanese. There's a translator and the other Cap'n Sandy, John, a 64 year-old guy from Gainesville, Florida, who knows over 350 sea chanties.
AG: There you go.
AM: Yeah, but--I sit down and they say, "Play a sea chanty." John is chomping at the bit to play a sea chanty, and I'm like, "I gotta make something up." I played the three that I knew, but I hardly remembered those. I was playing my own tunes.
AG:(laughs)
AM: I played a song that I wrote.
AG: Did you pass it off as a sea chanty?
AM: Well, Cap'n John, he knew I was full of shit, but he didn't say anything. He was like, "Well, I never heard that one before."
AG: You're like, "Shut up, Cap'n John."
AM: No, I said, "I must have different records than you." So, anyway, it was struggle, but I got a twenty minute show together. I got five minutes for the inside, which needed to be gangbusters, and then I got six more shanties for outside.
AG: Let's talk about the record a bit more. On the song, "All For Me Grog," there's a breakdown in the middle, where things fall apart and you say, "C'mon motherfucker!" Was that planned?
AM: Yeah. Our arrangement included this tuba solo. In the tuba solo, Matt(Perrine) pretends to fuck it up by doing it a half step sharp or flat, I forget. And he catches himself. So, it's a gag.
AG: And you yell at him.
AM: Yeah, me and Chaz scream at him. In the full-on Valparaiso Men's Chorus arrangement, we did that. It was very effective.
AG: Did the chorus know it was coming?
AM: Of course. "Ok, Matt's gonna fuck up the solo. Scream at him."
AG: That's great. Why are you called The Valparaiso Men's Chorus? Is it because of Valparaiso, Chile?
AM: Yeah, Valparaiso was a famous, some would say infamous, Chilean seaport. It was a major port of call for sailing, merchant, whaling ships. What they exported there was bat shit, guano, to get the nitrates out of it to make saltpetre(potassium nitrate).
AG: Now I understand the title.
AM: Yeah, Valparaiso is mentioned in a lot of sea chanties. "We're off to Valparaiso/Around the horn." When you go around the horn, you're inevitably gonna end up in Valparaiso.
AG: I'm gonna completely get off the sea chanty topic. I love what you do with The Geraniums and the color you add to their music. I know Jeff Treffinger(of The Geraniums and The Saturn Bar and Truck Farm) made your solo record, and he's played on your songs, as well, but how did your collaboration with The Geraniums come about?
AM: The Geraniums have had a couple of color guys throughout the years, whether it be on harmonica, fiddle, or trombone. I'm not sure how I got picked to do it, but one day Jeff said, "Hey man, would you come play with The Geraniums?" And I've always been a huge fan. I said, "Of course." I jumped at it. They used to play at the Circle Bar on Sunday nights when I used to bartend there. For a coupla years. They'd play, and there'd be no one there. I could sit in with them because there was no one to serve.
AG: So, you already knew the songs...
AM: No, I had heard them, and some of them I still really don't know. I kinda mess them up. I don't really know the titles to them or anything. It helps that they're all in D. There are a couple that aren't in D. It kinda hurts, in a way. Like, "What am I gonna do with D this time?" I love Jeff and Brendan's songs.
AG: There's still no one that shows up. How do we get more people out there?
AM: They don't do anything to promote themselves. They do nothing. I think it's a gag with them, that they do so little. They get their Tuesday gig, and that's the end of it. They show up, and they play.
AG: They don't really care, or...
AM: I guess...they do care. I've seen them when there's been people. Not a lot of people, but people. They get pumped and excited. Why don't you do something about it? Why don't you get a MySpace page? I don't know. It doesn't help that the tunes are kinda offbeat and dour. But, they are one of the unique things in this town. No one does anything like The Geraniums. It's really good. The songs are rich lyrically.
AG: When are you gonna come out with another solo or Tin Men record?
AM: That's the $64,000 question. I guess I've got enough tunes that I could do a record. It's also a question of money. There was talk for a while to get a label like Yep Roc to finance it. They didn't bite. 'Cause financing a record by yourself--it's doable because I did it, but you amass credit card debt doing that. I'm still paying it off.
AG: So, why would you do it again if you're still paying it off?
AM: Yeah. Money's a big factor. I'd like to get something by the end of the year. If I don't have something by the end of the year, then I've lost the plot.
AG: Seems like Tin Men is more of a every-two-years type of group.
AM: Yeah, but the Tin Men haven't been playing much. Matt's really busy with Bonerama.We've got a couple ideas for records. We might do a record that's all by one composer, or we might do one record that's all composed by us. We always have a record that's originals and unoriginals. We have moxie. We'll put our heads together one of these days and figure it out.
AG: Y'all perform Dirty Dozen's "Blackbird Special" live. That's my favorite song y'all do live, probably because the way y'all do it has such a concentrated anxiety to it.
AM:(laughs) Yeah, for me it is. It's a very difficult song to play. It's one of the most taxing tunes, for me, anyway. And there's not even any singing.
AG: Did you have any specific approach when covering it? Are you more of a traditional person when covering songs, or are you more of a non-traditional person, where you can veer off the beaten path a bit?
AM: The arrangement we do is the All That arrangement, the Davis Rogan version. That's a tune we used to do with that band. Me and Matt were in that band together for a while. I guess when The Tin Men got started we had all the Fingerbowl stuff, 'cause Matt was in that band, and we had songs of mine that weren't Fingerbowl tunes that we knew. We had all this Washboard Chaz stuff, and we had All That. We used to play a few brass band tunes that we knew from All That. It was like, "Ok, it'll be funny, we'll take this brass band tune and do this weird, not so fat instrumentation."
AG: Kinda like doing "Immigrant Song," like y'all do. You get everybody to turn their head and go, "Are they doing what I think they're doing?"
AM: We have performed Motorhead's "Ace of Spades."
AG: Nice.
AM: We're gonna get together and practice that again. We did it once during the Kids Camp at The Big Top. It was great.
AG: That's gonna be a hit. I've talked to you in passing about getting Royal Fingerbowl back together, and you've said people don't care, but the people I've talked to say differently.
AM: Well, you know, those 14 people are still around.
AG:(laughs) That's exactly what you said last time.
AM: Whenever someone asks me about the Fingerbowl, I always talk about those fourteen people. And the fourteen people really loved it.
AG: (laughs) But, that's not enough to make any money, is it?
AM: Whenever I feel like making that seventy bucks, we'll go out there and do it. We could probably get those fourteen people out to Carrollton Station. Or, maybe we could fill up the Circle Bar.
AG: You know, you might find those fourteen people brought one friend each, and then all of a sudden, there's 28.
AM: But, you see, these fourteen people are like those guys in the army jackets.
AG:(laughs) The curmudgeons?
AM: The guy in the army jacket at the end of the gig that wants to ask you about your gear. "What year amp is that? '64? That's what I thought."
AG: And, you're a little creeped out?
AM: Well...
AG: I got it.
AM: We did a party a year or two ago uptown. Becky Lloyd said, "I really want the Fingerbowl." I said, "Ok." It's not impossible.
AG: Are you able to make a living as a musician in New Orleans?
AM: I have. For ten years I didn't have a job. Since we've been back we've been kinda--we did a little work for Jeff on this house here. We painted that place--me and Kourtney. My friend has a rental property on Congress Street. It had Katrina problems--lost a lot of the roof. It needed to be gutted, blah, blah, blah. He's living in New York now. I supervised that for him. I don't know if I can make a living. The last month has been--I've made a living this month.
AG: So, it's month to month?
AM: You talk to guys, you know that summertime's gonna be slow. You gotta line up your ducks so you can make it through the summer, which is the slowest time. It's good to get out of town.
AG: Is that what you're planning on doing?
AM: Jonathan is kinda arranging for a trip up to the Northwest. He's got some contacts up there. He's gonna play some shows with Skerik. I've been invited to go up there with Kourtney. She's got this class she's been teaching, and she would have some time between them, before the next one starts. We might go up there for a couple weeks. I might do something in the northeast. I normally go up there once or twice a year, do some solo shows. There's this party I play every year. My father's up there. We can stay with friends, stay for free. Duking it out down here can be really demoralizing.
AG: I could imagine. You've been playing for so long, and I'm wondering if you've ever gone through lulls where, out of frustration, you've thought about giving up writing and performing and recording?
AM: Sometimes you get frustrated. Never to the point where I've said, "Fuck it, I'm gonna get a straight job." Sometimes you say, "Fuck it," but you don't really mean it. The good times are really great, and the bad times are really bad, but overall, it's a good life. I have no other skills. I dropped typing my freshman year of high school to take music theory. The first job I tried to get outta college, working for Tulane, was installing phone lines. I had to take a typing test. And I was sitting there taking this typing test, pecking and pecking. I was an English and Philosphy major, so I had to write a hundred papers...
AG: But you still didn't know how to type properly. I'm the same way.
AM: Typing a paper was like an hour a page. And that was going as fast as I could. That irony. I'm reminded of that all the time.
AG: Recurring players in your songs are drink and water, patrons of which tend me to be misfits or lonely. I was wondering if you have a soft spot for curmudgeons or the unwanted.
AM: Yeah, I think everybody can relate to that as a romantic notion. Loneliness, sentimentality, ne'er do wells, drinkers, brawlers, people in the bar. Saloon society. Sometimes I make up my mind not to write about these people anymore, but it's sort of inevitably goes back to that sphere.
AG: Because you live in that atmosphere, as well?
AM: I don't know. I work in bars. I used to go to bars a lot, more than I do now. I used to live at the R Bar. I'd get done playing and go to a bar. I could never go straight home.
AG: Wind down?
AM: Yeah.
AG: Just like everybody else.
AM: Yeah, but I don't do that anymore. I used to spend a lot of time at Markey's. I got outta that group, ya know. I haven't written too many songs in the last year, and the ones I have written really have nothing to do with it at all. I wrote a song about Cabral, Otis, this recurring guy, the two Katrina songs. I'm working on a song for Chaz to sing in The Tin Men. I'm trying to write a dance number. It's baffling to me.
AG: Do you think New Orleans is more forgiving of the socially inept?
AM: Absolutely.Yes. This town's got its own social code. People tolerate lateness. They know you can't be expected to do things early in the morning. Half the people you know are in bands or work in bars or restaurants. The bon vivant factor is high. You've heard the expression, "If you can't make it here, don't leave"?
AG:(laughs) That's great.
AM: New York has their saying, and we have ours.
AG: Eccentrics are celebrated here.
AM: Yeah. What's gonna happen to all the guys that hang out at stores, drinking Busch beer all day? I see these guys floatin' around town, waitin' for the bus. You can do it. The people that float around the Circle Bar--the homeless guys. The train station is right there. It's a pretty forgiving town...There's this couple that's been going through my songs, and they're still together, but they're terrible for each other.
AG: You can't figure out why they're still together! They've been through things and stood by each other.
AM: They just get into so much trouble together. There's something primal about their love that I find fascinating.
AG: It doesn't make any sense.
AM: This couple, they should really get out the bars and go take care of their kids. These beautiful losers--Leonard Cohen.
Over the years McMurray has established himself as the most talented songwriter in New Orleans. Like any poet McMurray is adept at describing the cracks in between the human experience, but his empathy for eccentrics and fuckups is really where it's at. Through his heartbreaking character studies he's been able to expose the beauty in people's imperfections and the way they disintegrate. Luckily for us, he peppers his songs with wry humor and is also able to celebrate the bouncier aspects of life, an example being the song "Cabral."
Those of you that enjoy his wicked lead guitar playing as much as his lyrical and compositional talents will love to know McMurray has more outlets than ever for soloing. Since sought-after performers like Freilich and O'Day have lost some of their bands to Katrina, I think I can confidently say that McMurray now plays with more groups than any other local musician--solo, Tin Men(the most genre-defying and unique local band), The Geraniums, 007, Happy Talk, Schatzy, and the Folk Rock Trio.
All this from a guy who isn't even supposed to be here. McMurray moved to New York in October of 2004, but after being encouraged by recently deceased Royal Fingerbowl record producer Keith Keller to return to New Orleans, McMurray and his wife, Kourtney, did just that in February of 2006.
"'Cause we're crazy," said McMurray over the phone recently in his half-serious, half tongue-in-cheek tone. "If you could do the stupidest thing you could think of, that would be it. Keith said 'you gotta be a part of the rebirth, blah, blah, blah,' and then the fucker croaks on us." Something to know now before we get into the mid-May interview I had with McMurray at his Bywater home is that you have to learn how to listen for the sentimentality that trickles through his grizzled veneer. Since returning he and his wife have become cultural leaders, creating Chazfest and the Fifth Season Summer Tuesday Nights, wherein the couple has and intends to continue showing movies on a screen in the beautiful backyard of The Truck Farm.
During the interview we focused on his new album, Guano and Nitrates, officially credited to The Valparaiso Men's Chorus. This is the chorus of local men he put together to sing as his band recorded sea chanties in November of 2004 at The Mermaid Lounge. The genesis for the idea came when McMurray sang sea chanties as Cap'n Sandy at Tokyo Disney in late 2002. Since the CD Release Party for the album at The Saturn Bar was such an out-of-control, drunk, rollicking success, look for more performances from the chorus in months to come.
Thanks to Kourtney for entertaining me with water, books, NPR(Andrei Codrescu!), footage of the CD release party, and a tour of the backyard while I waited for McMurray to join me for our interview.
AG: Kourtney told me you have a really interesting story.
AM: It's not that interesting. It's just that I was at Freedom Fest Sunday at the Circle Bar. I was standing there on the sidewalk. We had just played, with Luke(in The Happy Talk Band). This guy turns around and punches me in the face.
AG: Outta nowhere?
AM: He just wheeled around and clocked me.
AG: You hadn't been talking to him or anything?
AM: No. I've seen the guy around. I don't even know his name.
AG: In cold blood?
AM: He thought that I had spit on him.
AG: Oh.
AM: He said, "Dude, why'd you spit on me?" Well, there's people out there with water pistols. They had a water balloon launcher and water pistols and all sorts of shit like that. The guy, I guess, got squirted and he thought that I spit on him, so he turned around and fuckin' clocked me. Look at my lip. He turned my head all the way around and really fucked up my neck.
AG: What'd you do?
AM: I just stood there. I didn't fall down. I was in such shock that I was like, you know, "What?!" I guess most guys would have hit him back or something. After I thought about it for about thirty seconds I was, "Wait, I should go kick this guy's ass." It was the weirdest...
AG: He didn't apologize or anything.
AM: He did, of course. He apologized profusely, and all this. I still think it was a little bit overreacting, don't you think?
AG: Yeah, to not even ask, "Hey man, why'd you spit on me?"
AM: He just turned around and...
AG: The life and times.
AM: I was afraid you were gonna come over with some photographer or something.
AG: Are you still at the point where you get nervous onstage?
AM: Yeah, only if I'm singing. If I'm not singing, it's no problem. But, if it's songs I wrote, yeah.
AG: Even at the Wednesday night Circle Bar gigs that you do a lot?
AM: Yeah, I do.
AG: Cause sometimes you look detached.
AM: There's a lot of different factors involved. Who's in the audience? I get more nervous when there are people I know there. If it's people I don't know, I'm more relaxed.
AG: That makes sense.
AM: I get uptight when there are people there who are there every week. I'm like, "Oh, man, I have nothing new for these guys." That's a drag.
AG: Maybe they don't want anything new.
AM: But I feel like I owe it to them to at least have one thing that's different. That's the good part about that gig. It should force you to always be working on something new...
AG: Honing.
AM:...but unfortunately, the way I arrange my life, normally the first thing to get jetisoned is my own thing. There are all these other things that I'm doing. What kind of an idiot puts on a musical festival during Jazzfest? You're a working musician and you play, in like, six bands, and then you put on a festival?
AG:(laughing) You're trying to make it easy on yourself, obviously.
AM: What's the matter with me, you know?
AG: I think it's great. It seemed like it really worked out.
AM: Yeah, it worked out, but the night before Chazfest I was at my gig Wednesday night and I was looking at the clock, wondering when I could get outta there. I was operating on two hours sleep. And I had Joe, Doug, and Jonathan there. My mind was somewhere else. This was the Jazzfest gig. This was the gig I've been doing for years, and it should be a big night in my musical career, but it was the last thing on my mind. At that point, there's no point in bitching.
AG: It's already in motion.
AM: It's already happening. Make the best of it, that sorta thing.
AG: I wasn't there the year before, but there must have been more people this time around.
AM: There was a bigger turnout. Not by a whole lot, but there was more. The first year we had rain for four hours. As soon as it started, it started to rain. It didn't make people leave. It just made people not come. People had a great time, though. There was a lot more stress the first year. This year, it seemed like more of a machine. We switched it on, and it just sorta ran itself.
AG: So, next year, it'll be that much easier.
AM: (Laughs)Yeah, you'll see. Next year. Yeah, OK.
AG: Oh, no? Is that it?
AM: It could be. If we're gonna do it again--it's too much work for no money. It would have to be profitable. The amount of work that Kourtney did. The graphic design. Designing the postcards and the t-shirts and the ads and the signs. She works on that for months. It's gotta be done months in advance to get in the publications. The website and all this stuff. You spend a lot of time on the phone. Like me, I get the stage together, the sound together, book the bands, and you know, get the toilets. Stuff like that. We both work on it. It's a pretty tough racket.
AG: Even with the door, were y'all still in the red?
AM: If we lost money, it was insignificant, but if we made money, it was also insignificant. To do it next year...
AG: Maybe some real sponsors.
AM: Real sponsors and legit permits and we gotta make a lot of money. It's too much work. It was a great time and a great party, but I kinda need money(laughs).
AG:(laughs) Well, if people liked it enough, maybe you could raise the admission next year and people'd be willing to show their appreciation by paying it.
AM: Yeah, and maybe less bands. We gotta raise the profile of the thing, and that means corporate sponsors, which makes it kinda ugly. It's kinda tacky. Maybe we could get Abita to provide the beer.
AG: That's not so bad.
AM: That's not so bad, except a lot of people don't like the taste of Abita beer. Maybe Southern Comfort. Somebody was talking to me about some local company--New Orleans Rum. Things like that. We gotta know how to walk the fine line between solvency and tackiness.
AG: Why did it take you so long to release the sea chanty CD?
AM: Well, we recorded it right after I moved to New York. I moved to New York in October of 2004, and then we came back for Thanksgiving, and there had always been this talk of doing a sea chanty record, and Henry Griffin had this film project on me at Disney--interviews with me about this job. Out of the movie came the idea to record--I had had the idea in Japan to record these songs, but with the New Orleans thing, like with Carlo Nuccio playing drums. Get 20 drunken guys. I know exactly the guys I need for this job. They all showed up, and they all were great. So, it was basically a film project that begat a CD project. So, we did the recording at The Mermaid right before it closed, right before Thanksgiving '04. Jeff(Treffinger) did a mix, Clint(Coker) did a mix. There were these mixes, and the guys in the chorus were bitching at me because the chorus wasn't loud enough. I played it for Jonathan(Freilich), and he said(McMurray doing an amazingly spot-on Freilich voice imitation), "Oh, man, what is this? There's not enough chorus." I wanted more chorus, too. Anyway, at this point, The Mermaid was gone, and we had these mixes that weren't really happening, and, of course, August of 2005 rolls around. After that the sea chanty record went on the backburner. I was in New York, Jeff was in Texas, and Clint was somewhere, and we don't have a mix that people are happy with. It was all on analog tape--half inch tape. We had two rolls of tape. It was the last tapes e could get and the last tapes for purchase in Orleans Parish in 2004.
AG: How could it be the last tape?
AM: We got it from this store that was the only place you could get it, and it was closing down. We wanted to get six, but they only had two left, so we had to do only one take of every song. We had to decide then whether this was the take.
AG: Maybe it was better that way because you were more focused.
AM: Yeah. As you could tell by the record--very focused.
AG: I heard the record release party was less focused.
AM: The record was a testament to mayhem. But, it got done. It was great. Anyway, we had to do a transfer from analog to digital. We were gonna mix it on the machine, but the machine was mechanically flawed. It changed speeds, it had noise in it. Over here we transferred it to digital. After that we started doing mixes over here with Jack Neely, who runs the studio, and Ben Mumfrey. Ben did most of it. Then, it's gotta be mastered and artwork.
AG: Yeah, that makes sense. Everybody took a year after Katrina just to get back on track, so it makes sense.
AM: To me--it is a long time--but to get it done any faster, it would have to been done before Katrina, and I would have had to have been living down here because the mixes were coming in the mail, drips and drabs.
AG: How important was alcohol to the recording? I have this image of you plying the chorus with alcohol so you would get more of this drunken, all-for-one feel.
AM: It was definetely part of our focus. You can't have the yo-ho-ho without the bottle of rum. The overall gestalt was that we were gonna do it at The Mermaid, we were gonna be in a bar. It's gonna take the greater part of the evening. We're gonna start around five and then go 'till we're done. The guys would be able to come and go. It would be very loose that way. We'd learn the song and do it until we figured we got a good take, and then we'd move onto the next song. Meanwhile, there's a film crew, and everyone's drinking. The last tune we did was "Rio Grande." It was one of those moments where the chorus had had it. Half of them were outside...
AG: "When is this gonna be done?"
AM: Yeah.
AG: Or were they just too drunk?
AM: They were just too drunk and just worn out. I'll never forget that. There was a buzz, this terrible buzz. One of the microphones that was picking up Jonathan Freilich. He played a guitar solo on it. The mic on his amp had such an audible buzz, but nobody caught it.
AG: Because the voices were so loud?
AM: No, because, I guess because Jeff was wasted in the control room(laughs). There was so much mayhem that it got overlooked. That was like a nightmare, trying to get the buzz off the track.
AG: How did you decide to augment the way you traditionally see a sea chanty performed with more of this New Orleans sound?
AM: It's a natural thing. Me, Chaz, and Matt, The Tin Men, we were performing so much, we were sick of each other. For a sea chanty record--first of all, electronic instruments almost can't do it, even though I played an electric guitar. The tuba is a natural fit, the washboard seems like a natural fit, even though it's probably something you'd never see on a boat. We had pennywhistles, Rick Trolsen on trombone. The sea chanty purists would want nothing to do with this because trombones are way out, but we have bass drum and tuba, so it's kinda like a brass band approach to things. We also had accordion, fiddles, which are very traditional. We just wanted to get all these different flavors together and let it rip. When I was in Japan, I remember walking around, doing my job, which was walking around this restaurant playing "Drunken Sailor." One day I was playing it really fast, 'cause nobody's listening. I'm walking around in costume. They're all Japanese, and they don't understand a thing I'm saying. I'm playing with a swinging feel, the way it is on the record. I was like, "Man, when I get back home, I'm gonna get Carol Nuccio on this, and Matt Perrine, and we're gonna do this." I guess that was the genesis of the idea. The impetus was to do the songs with New Orleans instrumentation.
AG: I think it's much better than just doing the thousandth traditional sea chanty CD. You put your own slant on it.
AM: We're waiting to see how it fits into the sea chanty canon.
AG: There are webpages. I've seen webpages devoted to sea chanties.
AM: I've been to those sites.
AG: When I picture you performing in Japan, for some reason I picture you performing onstage, but no, you performed in a restaurant?
AM: I worked at a Donald's Boat Builders--was the name of the restaurant. No, it was called The Cape Cod Cookoff. The show was in a big, big dining hall with picnic benches, and on the stage was this half animatronic, half live action show. It was two shows alternating. One was Donald's Boat Builder's. It was Donald, Goofy, and Mickey trying to build a boat with all this mayhem going on around them. The shows were about seven minutes long. The other show was the Chipmunks doing something up there. There was a big boat on hydraulics with steam piped in and music--the voices were piped in. The people would get in costumes and just go up there and move around.
AG: Was it good?
AM: I never got to see it. Cause I would do five minutes in the restaurant between the Chipmunks show and The Donald Duck show. It was five minutes exactly. You had to time your set to be done exactly at five minutes. There were these audible cues you could hear. The boat was righting itself, preparing for the next show, and you could hear this hydraulic sound. You knew you had about fifteen seconds, so you wrapped it up. I was walking out the door as the music hit for the next show. You did it six times a day for six months. For the next fifteen minutes, I'd walk around outside in front. I was what they called an "atmosphere musician." When you go to Disneyworld and you see Mickey...
AG: Engaging the people.
AM: Yeah. I'm out there to be atmosphere. I'm in character. I had the sea captain costume. The boots, string tie, vest, pea coat, and hat. After fifteen minutes--I had a stage manager who would follow me around--he'sd say, "It's time to go in," so we'd find this secret passageway that led to the backstage.
AG: Were you familiar with the sea chanties on the record before you left for Japan?
AM: No. I tried like hell to find sea chanty records. This was in 2001 that I first became aware of the job. It was Adam Shipley(from Tipitina's) that put me in touch--he's from Florida, so he knows the guy who books for Disney. He called Adam and said, "I need a guy who can play banjo or guitar and sing sea chanties," and Adam called Glenn Hartman(from The Klezmer All-Stars). He said, "Glenn, who do you think we should get for this?" Glenn said, "Why not Alex," and after Adam stopped laughing, Glenn said, "No, really. Call Alex. I betcha he'd do it. It's just weird enough." So, there was a website called songsofthesea.com. I went to that. It's still up. It's got a different name, now(contemplator.com/sea). They had these MIDI files. If you took a Casio keyboard and played "Blow The Man Down" through it, that's what it would sound like(McMurray imitates it by singing the "Blow" melody like a Wizard of Oz munchkin). You could read the lyrics and hear the tune, so you could pretty much tell how the line goes, though there's no singing. Just the melody. So I went through all these tunes, and I went to amazon.com and found one record--it's called Men's Corral. It was Burl Ives corny. It's lovely in a weird way. I liked the record. It's the only one I could find. It's really not folk music. It's like something for a recital hall.
AG: Was it a little bit too put together?
AM: It sounds like a 20-to-30 man chorus with four parts--basses, baritones, tenors...Very clean, refined, spohisticated arrangements of these tunes. I'm in the dark here. I ask Shipley to ask Disney, "Please, what are the tunes?" They're like, "Oh, don't worry about it."
AG: You wanna do your research. You wanna do a good job.
AM: I'm freakin' out. They didn't give me hardly any time. They hired me, and then I became nonplussed, and they were like, "We don't need you." Three months later, they're like, "DO YOU WANNA DO THE DISNEY JOB?! CAN YOU DO IT?! WE NEED TO KNOW NOW." Ok, but can you give me 24 hours? "OK, BUT 24 HOURS." Less than a month from then, I was on a plane. So, I'm trying to do all this research. They're like, "Don't worry about it. They'll show you what to do in Japan, on the other end." And I'm like, "That sounds fishy to me. That doesn't sound right." I gotta find--there's no sea chanty records on amazon.com. In 2002, none. At least, I couldn't find any. I looked everywhere. Then, I did this MIDI thing. I tried to learn--I did a video audition. There were three that I knew. I got the job, so those three weren't that bad. I did all this crazy preparation, visas and what not, get on the plane, get to Japan. Orientation meeting, and then finally I meet with the director of the show, who's Japanese. There's a translator and the other Cap'n Sandy, John, a 64 year-old guy from Gainesville, Florida, who knows over 350 sea chanties.
AG: There you go.
AM: Yeah, but--I sit down and they say, "Play a sea chanty." John is chomping at the bit to play a sea chanty, and I'm like, "I gotta make something up." I played the three that I knew, but I hardly remembered those. I was playing my own tunes.
AG:(laughs)
AM: I played a song that I wrote.
AG: Did you pass it off as a sea chanty?
AM: Well, Cap'n John, he knew I was full of shit, but he didn't say anything. He was like, "Well, I never heard that one before."
AG: You're like, "Shut up, Cap'n John."
AM: No, I said, "I must have different records than you." So, anyway, it was struggle, but I got a twenty minute show together. I got five minutes for the inside, which needed to be gangbusters, and then I got six more shanties for outside.
AG: Let's talk about the record a bit more. On the song, "All For Me Grog," there's a breakdown in the middle, where things fall apart and you say, "C'mon motherfucker!" Was that planned?
AM: Yeah. Our arrangement included this tuba solo. In the tuba solo, Matt(Perrine) pretends to fuck it up by doing it a half step sharp or flat, I forget. And he catches himself. So, it's a gag.
AG: And you yell at him.
AM: Yeah, me and Chaz scream at him. In the full-on Valparaiso Men's Chorus arrangement, we did that. It was very effective.
AG: Did the chorus know it was coming?
AM: Of course. "Ok, Matt's gonna fuck up the solo. Scream at him."
AG: That's great. Why are you called The Valparaiso Men's Chorus? Is it because of Valparaiso, Chile?
AM: Yeah, Valparaiso was a famous, some would say infamous, Chilean seaport. It was a major port of call for sailing, merchant, whaling ships. What they exported there was bat shit, guano, to get the nitrates out of it to make saltpetre(potassium nitrate).
AG: Now I understand the title.
AM: Yeah, Valparaiso is mentioned in a lot of sea chanties. "We're off to Valparaiso/Around the horn." When you go around the horn, you're inevitably gonna end up in Valparaiso.
AG: I'm gonna completely get off the sea chanty topic. I love what you do with The Geraniums and the color you add to their music. I know Jeff Treffinger(of The Geraniums and The Saturn Bar and Truck Farm) made your solo record, and he's played on your songs, as well, but how did your collaboration with The Geraniums come about?
AM: The Geraniums have had a couple of color guys throughout the years, whether it be on harmonica, fiddle, or trombone. I'm not sure how I got picked to do it, but one day Jeff said, "Hey man, would you come play with The Geraniums?" And I've always been a huge fan. I said, "Of course." I jumped at it. They used to play at the Circle Bar on Sunday nights when I used to bartend there. For a coupla years. They'd play, and there'd be no one there. I could sit in with them because there was no one to serve.
AG: So, you already knew the songs...
AM: No, I had heard them, and some of them I still really don't know. I kinda mess them up. I don't really know the titles to them or anything. It helps that they're all in D. There are a couple that aren't in D. It kinda hurts, in a way. Like, "What am I gonna do with D this time?" I love Jeff and Brendan's songs.
AG: There's still no one that shows up. How do we get more people out there?
AM: They don't do anything to promote themselves. They do nothing. I think it's a gag with them, that they do so little. They get their Tuesday gig, and that's the end of it. They show up, and they play.
AG: They don't really care, or...
AM: I guess...they do care. I've seen them when there's been people. Not a lot of people, but people. They get pumped and excited. Why don't you do something about it? Why don't you get a MySpace page? I don't know. It doesn't help that the tunes are kinda offbeat and dour. But, they are one of the unique things in this town. No one does anything like The Geraniums. It's really good. The songs are rich lyrically.
AG: When are you gonna come out with another solo or Tin Men record?
AM: That's the $64,000 question. I guess I've got enough tunes that I could do a record. It's also a question of money. There was talk for a while to get a label like Yep Roc to finance it. They didn't bite. 'Cause financing a record by yourself--it's doable because I did it, but you amass credit card debt doing that. I'm still paying it off.
AG: So, why would you do it again if you're still paying it off?
AM: Yeah. Money's a big factor. I'd like to get something by the end of the year. If I don't have something by the end of the year, then I've lost the plot.
AG: Seems like Tin Men is more of a every-two-years type of group.
AM: Yeah, but the Tin Men haven't been playing much. Matt's really busy with Bonerama.We've got a couple ideas for records. We might do a record that's all by one composer, or we might do one record that's all composed by us. We always have a record that's originals and unoriginals. We have moxie. We'll put our heads together one of these days and figure it out.
AG: Y'all perform Dirty Dozen's "Blackbird Special" live. That's my favorite song y'all do live, probably because the way y'all do it has such a concentrated anxiety to it.
AM:(laughs) Yeah, for me it is. It's a very difficult song to play. It's one of the most taxing tunes, for me, anyway. And there's not even any singing.
AG: Did you have any specific approach when covering it? Are you more of a traditional person when covering songs, or are you more of a non-traditional person, where you can veer off the beaten path a bit?
AM: The arrangement we do is the All That arrangement, the Davis Rogan version. That's a tune we used to do with that band. Me and Matt were in that band together for a while. I guess when The Tin Men got started we had all the Fingerbowl stuff, 'cause Matt was in that band, and we had songs of mine that weren't Fingerbowl tunes that we knew. We had all this Washboard Chaz stuff, and we had All That. We used to play a few brass band tunes that we knew from All That. It was like, "Ok, it'll be funny, we'll take this brass band tune and do this weird, not so fat instrumentation."
AG: Kinda like doing "Immigrant Song," like y'all do. You get everybody to turn their head and go, "Are they doing what I think they're doing?"
AM: We have performed Motorhead's "Ace of Spades."
AG: Nice.
AM: We're gonna get together and practice that again. We did it once during the Kids Camp at The Big Top. It was great.
AG: That's gonna be a hit. I've talked to you in passing about getting Royal Fingerbowl back together, and you've said people don't care, but the people I've talked to say differently.
AM: Well, you know, those 14 people are still around.
AG:(laughs) That's exactly what you said last time.
AM: Whenever someone asks me about the Fingerbowl, I always talk about those fourteen people. And the fourteen people really loved it.
AG: (laughs) But, that's not enough to make any money, is it?
AM: Whenever I feel like making that seventy bucks, we'll go out there and do it. We could probably get those fourteen people out to Carrollton Station. Or, maybe we could fill up the Circle Bar.
AG: You know, you might find those fourteen people brought one friend each, and then all of a sudden, there's 28.
AM: But, you see, these fourteen people are like those guys in the army jackets.
AG:(laughs) The curmudgeons?
AM: The guy in the army jacket at the end of the gig that wants to ask you about your gear. "What year amp is that? '64? That's what I thought."
AG: And, you're a little creeped out?
AM: Well...
AG: I got it.
AM: We did a party a year or two ago uptown. Becky Lloyd said, "I really want the Fingerbowl." I said, "Ok." It's not impossible.
AG: Are you able to make a living as a musician in New Orleans?
AM: I have. For ten years I didn't have a job. Since we've been back we've been kinda--we did a little work for Jeff on this house here. We painted that place--me and Kourtney. My friend has a rental property on Congress Street. It had Katrina problems--lost a lot of the roof. It needed to be gutted, blah, blah, blah. He's living in New York now. I supervised that for him. I don't know if I can make a living. The last month has been--I've made a living this month.
AG: So, it's month to month?
AM: You talk to guys, you know that summertime's gonna be slow. You gotta line up your ducks so you can make it through the summer, which is the slowest time. It's good to get out of town.
AG: Is that what you're planning on doing?
AM: Jonathan is kinda arranging for a trip up to the Northwest. He's got some contacts up there. He's gonna play some shows with Skerik. I've been invited to go up there with Kourtney. She's got this class she's been teaching, and she would have some time between them, before the next one starts. We might go up there for a couple weeks. I might do something in the northeast. I normally go up there once or twice a year, do some solo shows. There's this party I play every year. My father's up there. We can stay with friends, stay for free. Duking it out down here can be really demoralizing.
AG: I could imagine. You've been playing for so long, and I'm wondering if you've ever gone through lulls where, out of frustration, you've thought about giving up writing and performing and recording?
AM: Sometimes you get frustrated. Never to the point where I've said, "Fuck it, I'm gonna get a straight job." Sometimes you say, "Fuck it," but you don't really mean it. The good times are really great, and the bad times are really bad, but overall, it's a good life. I have no other skills. I dropped typing my freshman year of high school to take music theory. The first job I tried to get outta college, working for Tulane, was installing phone lines. I had to take a typing test. And I was sitting there taking this typing test, pecking and pecking. I was an English and Philosphy major, so I had to write a hundred papers...
AG: But you still didn't know how to type properly. I'm the same way.
AM: Typing a paper was like an hour a page. And that was going as fast as I could. That irony. I'm reminded of that all the time.
AG: Recurring players in your songs are drink and water, patrons of which tend me to be misfits or lonely. I was wondering if you have a soft spot for curmudgeons or the unwanted.
AM: Yeah, I think everybody can relate to that as a romantic notion. Loneliness, sentimentality, ne'er do wells, drinkers, brawlers, people in the bar. Saloon society. Sometimes I make up my mind not to write about these people anymore, but it's sort of inevitably goes back to that sphere.
AG: Because you live in that atmosphere, as well?
AM: I don't know. I work in bars. I used to go to bars a lot, more than I do now. I used to live at the R Bar. I'd get done playing and go to a bar. I could never go straight home.
AG: Wind down?
AM: Yeah.
AG: Just like everybody else.
AM: Yeah, but I don't do that anymore. I used to spend a lot of time at Markey's. I got outta that group, ya know. I haven't written too many songs in the last year, and the ones I have written really have nothing to do with it at all. I wrote a song about Cabral, Otis, this recurring guy, the two Katrina songs. I'm working on a song for Chaz to sing in The Tin Men. I'm trying to write a dance number. It's baffling to me.
AG: Do you think New Orleans is more forgiving of the socially inept?
AM: Absolutely.Yes. This town's got its own social code. People tolerate lateness. They know you can't be expected to do things early in the morning. Half the people you know are in bands or work in bars or restaurants. The bon vivant factor is high. You've heard the expression, "If you can't make it here, don't leave"?
AG:(laughs) That's great.
AM: New York has their saying, and we have ours.
AG: Eccentrics are celebrated here.
AM: Yeah. What's gonna happen to all the guys that hang out at stores, drinking Busch beer all day? I see these guys floatin' around town, waitin' for the bus. You can do it. The people that float around the Circle Bar--the homeless guys. The train station is right there. It's a pretty forgiving town...There's this couple that's been going through my songs, and they're still together, but they're terrible for each other.
AG: You can't figure out why they're still together! They've been through things and stood by each other.
AM: They just get into so much trouble together. There's something primal about their love that I find fascinating.
AG: It doesn't make any sense.
AM: This couple, they should really get out the bars and go take care of their kids. These beautiful losers--Leonard Cohen.
Dylan's "It's Alright Ma(I'm Only Bleeding)" Live from 1965
Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover
That you'd just be
One more person crying.
So don't fear if you hear
A foreign sound to your ear
It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing.
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