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6 more good things from 2021

Ken Templeton — Wed, 22 Dec 2021 13:40:31 +0000

As we shift into a whole new phase of things that could have been prevented, it’s helpful to know about some good things from 2021.

Brian wrote about 7 Good Things the other day. Honestly, every single one of his recommendations is on my list too. So, I thought I would just add 6 more, to bless you with a lucky 13 to close out this year.

Here are six records that sustained me in 2021.

Allison Russell, Outside Child

In a year that has required all of us to expand our capacity for grace, this album is an object lesson. Allison Russell’s autobiographical expression of abuse, liberation, and forgiveness is testimony to the power of love. When I say love, I’m thinking of James Baldwin. He wrote, in The Fire Next Time, “Love takes off the masks we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within. I use the word love not in the infantile American sense of being made happy but in the tough and universal sense of quest and daring and growth.” Seeing Allison perform these songs at Newport with her amazing band was transcendent.

Outside Child by Allison Russell
Adia Victoria, A Southern Gothic

What I love most about Adia Victoria’s writing is how it, to quote a friend, “gets into you.” It’s not just that I find myself singing the songs, which I do, but it’s also that I find myself wondering about the songs, the people, the places, the moods, the things not said. Adia Victoria is the one of the most restrained lyricists I’ve ever heard–she squeezes more story into a single line than many songwriters get in a verse. Short story writers talk about economy of language, and there’s really no one else I can think of who writes songs without wasting a word. Adia has plans to release a companion volume of poetry to A Southern Gothic, which I anticipate will just keep folk wondering and wondering more and seeing the world through blues-gothic glasses.

A Southern Gothic by Adia Victoria

Alisa Amador, Narratives

You know when you hear the first line of a song and you love it immediately? It had been a while since I felt that feeling, but “The Timing,” made me say “Yaaaaaaassssss” and turn up the music and roll down the window of my car and turn it up louder. It is, as the kids say, a bop. This EP as a whole keeps me coming back because it expresses the wide range of interests and sensibilities that inform Alisa’s work.

Narratives by Alisa Amador
Hiss Golden Messenger, Quietly Blowing It

When we lived in the Boston area, my family and I went to Arlington Street Church most Sundays. Part of the service is sharing joys and sorrows–that is, sharing our lives. Lighting candles, holding grief and gladness together in the light. I have sung along to this album for most of the year and the songs keep shifting–sometimes I hear joy, sometimes sorrow. It’s a long way of saying that I hear life reflected on this record and the questions that keep life mysterious. “If it comes in the morning, will I be grateful? If it comes in the morning, will I be thankful?” This album was good company in a hopeful and heartbreaking year.

Quietly Blowing It by Hiss Golden Messenger
Tré Burt, You, Yeah, You

God, I love this record. It’s just honest.

You, Yeah, You by Tre Burt
Ben Cosgrove, The Trouble with Wilderness

When in doubt, play Ben Cosgrove. His music never fails to surprise me and make me listen with more intention. It’s a joyful thing to hear a small detail you’d missed the first ten listens or so. Ben’s vital engagement with the world is evident in his compositions and listening to his music sharpens my ears on a walk or while just sitting still. If you can catch Ben live in 2022, make sure you do so–totally mesmerizing every time I have seen him play.

The Trouble With Wilderness by Ben Cosgrove
Miscellaneous things that made me happy in 2021:

NY Times Five Weeknight Dinners. As a dad, this is a godsend every week.
Call & Response. Adia Victoria is a gifted interviewer and her podcast is a must-listen.
The Age of Phillis. The book of poetry knocked me over–the imagined life and times of Phyllis Wheatley, by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers.
LOJO. Here in Durham, NC, there is no shortage of great musicians with day jobs. Stephen Munoz creates a space every Friday night called “Log Off, Jam On,” that is a collaborative open mic. Stephen’s encouragement and enthusiasm are infectious, and people hop in on each other’s songs in ways that are truly about serving the song and each other. It’s special.

As we close 2021, I hope that 2022 is kinder to musicians and venues. Get vaccinated. Mask up. Stay safe.

An Artist Retrospective: Where did it all begin?

Brian Carroll — Fri, 22 Dec 2017 13:50:40 +0000

As we slide toward the end of the year I tend to think a lot about ‘endings’. The tail end of the year, what I wasn’t able to accomplish this year but hope to in the new year, another year of life behind me and the inevitable end of the world under the current political climate. But I digress, I think its also important to realize what we do accomplish and reflect on our triumphs and where we are in relation to where we came from as well.

I reached out to artists within the community for their insight and input…their story. In an effort to give us all a tiny glimpse into how it all started for them on their musical journey. A collective effort to share and tell our stories with folks from all walks of the folk and roots life and community and hopefully learn something new about an artist you already love or get the origins of one you may love but just don’t know it yet.

What does that all mean? Here is an example:

For me, it all started in my parent’s basement when I was about 12 years old. I wanted to be Stevie Ray Vaughan. I wanted a beat to shit Stratocaster with my initials engraved into the pick guard. What I was able to get my hands on was a worse for wear Yamaha acoustic my aunt had in her closet for the past 20 years. The strings hadn’t been changed in that long and the action on this thing was higher than the Prudential building. I’d sit down there with a standard, run of the mill mid 1990’s cassette recorder and play out the rhythm parts. Rewind, push play, attempt to solo. Rewind, push play, attempt to solo. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Later on I got myself a paper route as my parents were of the blue collar working persuasion and said “if you want a guitar, work for it”. I hustled my tail off for the summer and came out the other side with a beautiful blue Tascam 4 track portastudio and a knock off hunter green Strat…yup, with an engraved pick guard.

Some folks kept it surface level and simple, others went deep but all took a moment to share a bit of themselves here and it means a lot to me as a music journalist, a story teller and a music lover to hear them and share them with you all.

They are folk singers and bluegrass pickers. They are harmonizing angels and rock n’ rollers. They are song singers and guitar slingers. They are artists and these are their stories…

Ian Meadows (The Meadows Brothers, Wise Old Moon): “I was 7. My Dad was watching the Freddy Mercury Tribute Concert (on Laser Disc!), when I walked in. The surviving members of Queen playing “Tie Your Mother Down” with Slash helping out on guitar; shirtless and smoking a cigarette with his Les Paul down to his knees. It ruined me, I just thought it was the most badass thing I’d ever seen and I didn’t even know that word. My little nylon string guitar my parents bought for me a few years before came out of storage and I played “Smoke on the Water” on the high E string for the next two years straight, until I switched over to “Iron Man”. I became a Rock n’ Roll Salvationist from that moment forward, and I am still attempting to grow out my Slash hair.”

Holly McGarry (Honeysuckle): “It all started in a parking garage in Vail, CO. I was probably about 4 or 5 years old, my mom had just purchased a Pete Seeger record and a record by Gene Autry. She played the Gene Autry record first and from that moment on I knew I wanted to play the guitar. It took me until I was about 11 to start actually playing the guitar. My dad found a teacher in town named Doug Bond and it was the perfect fit. I was very shy, couldn’t even talk to him at my lessons at first but he would write down chords and songs to practice and gradually he even got me to sing. If not for him I never would have known that I could sing. I owe just about everything to Gene Autry, Doug Bond and of course my parents, who introduced me to music and my teacher.”

Carolyn Kendrick (The Page Turners): “For me, like with most people, everything that happens in life is an extension of what’s happened prior to birth. My parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, etc. are all musicians, so they set up my life to be as musically infused as possible, like a hibiscus blend of everything they like and care about. Luckily, this made it quite easy to figure out which path is right for me, and I’ve always understood that being a musician is what I want. (Even though the chosen path itself can be tumultuous, at best.) It has never seemed there was an origin point of “this is how it started”, but rather a jumble of steps that led to “this is how it is”. Although if we’re being incredibly scientific, I suppose you can say the origin of my musical story was when my grandparents met in the FSU marching band, and when my other grandparents first went dancing. However, the most significant steps in my own lifetime have been: listening to Glen Campbell and Ray Charles in the car with my dad, hearing the Punch Brothers for the first time, joining my first funk band in high school (‘Ship of Foolz’- terrible band name, great people), getting into Berklee, moving to Boston, finding other people who knew about John Hartford and Willie Nelson and Alison Krauss. I’m so lucky and happy to be part of a story and community that is larger than myself, and thankful for this reminder to cherish the path we’re all on.”

Dann Russo (solo, Three at Home): “I’m trying to think of the moment when I knew. I guess it was something I always did, at least a little. I’m sure I have a lot to thank my parents for, and this is definitely one of them. When I was about 5 or 6, my dad was in grad school at Brooklyn College and conveniently I had mallet music class at Brooklyn College. I learned xylophone, timpani, all different kinds of percussion. I had guitar lessons, which I really wasn’t a big fan of. And it kind of faded away for me. But every Sunday, my dad was on the altar at St. Brendan’s at 9:30 playing the best the Saint Louis Jesuits had to offer on his 12-string Ovation and every December 23rd, my dad and what my friends called his “baseball bat guitar” (a ridiculously old and thick-necked Spanish guitar he had gotten for his 15th birthday and put steel strings on) would lead sometimes ten and sometimes ten times that singing carols as we walked around the neighborhood.

A few years later, when my grandfather passed away, my mother bought a piano for the house. And EVERYONE had to take lessons. First with a young Irish teacher whose name escapes me and then with Mrs. Montemerano, the name that sends shivers down the spine of many residents of Dyker Heights. She was, in retrospect, probably a nice lady? Maybe? To me and my siblings, she was a no-nonsense Italian woman of grandmotherly age who demanded good posture and high wrists and “NEVER look at your hands.” She was so borderline terrifying that when I see my kids’ music teacher play piano with the proper arch of her hands and eyes focused on her music, I get the bad kind of chills. I was, once again, thanks to my parents, always into music (the only time music wasn’t playing in the house is when the Mets game was on the radio & it’s still like this 30 years later). So one day, I took whatever money I made in altar-server tips down to the local record store and got “The Complete Works of Billy Joel: Volume One.” I, being the eager young lad I was, brought it to Mrs. Montemerano completely pleased with myself. I was convinced we could come to a sort of understanding and maybe meet in the middle somewhere. She hated it. She wouldn’t teach it to me, she didn’t want me to play it for her, she looked at it with disgust. So, I went home and decided I’d learn the intro to Miami 2017 myself.

Fast forward a few years, and something started happening. Bon Jovi. Whitesnake. Van Halen. Bands with keyboards that rocked. I was in a band with my friend John Blackford who played guitar and Peter Costalos on drums. He had a drum set and an extra space in his basement that soon became our “practice space.” Actually, come to think about it, I don’t think I remember anything else about his house. We never left the basement. Peter would set his cymbals on fire as John and I tried to scream over his playing and maybe hear what we were doing as we played Runaway and Once Bitten, Twice Shy. I wanted to be the lead singer…well, I WAS the lead singer, I guess, because John was super shy and Peter sounded like he had glass in his throat at all times. And then MTV Unplugged started. And I knew my dad had that baseball bat guitar, and I taught myself the beginning to Wanted Dead Or Alive and got a chord book to learn the other hairband ballads on the radio. Something was definitely happening.

But I think the IT, the OMG I WANT TO DO THIS was really in Sophomore year of high school. I was in the chorus, it was fun, and I met a ton of people who wanted to make music. There was a concert – it must’ve been a dance or something – and we decided to put a band together. I played bass, because no one else wanted to play it, and my friend Jaime and I pooled together $260 for a bass and an amp and painted it to look like Eddie Van Halen’s guitar. We opened with Van Halen’s Jump. It was awesome. Jaime was the tall(ish), long-haired lead singer. I was the bass player and backup singer with mystique wearing a long black jacket and black cowboy hat. Everyone was having fun – on stage and in the audience. Second, we kicked into Sweet Child O Mine. The next day we listened to the tape we had hidden up in the balcony of the auditorium, and – I just got chills writing this. The good kind, not the Montemerano kind – WE COULDN’T HEAR THE MUSIC. All there was to hear was the crowd. A roar that started out as a cheer and very quickly hit us in the soul. And I’ve been chasing that ever since. “

Brian Sousa (Strangers by Accident): “It all began for us with a spare, acoustic song I’d been working on, called Busted Heart. I’d broken up with my longtime girlfriend in Colorado, and moved home to New England to lick my wounds and try to get a new band together. I recorded the song in the bathroom, trying to get some reverb on it, then put it on cragislist in an ad for a female singer. Amy was the 3rd or 4th woman to get in touch. I sent her some other songs I’d been working on, and she came over on a rainy November Saturday. I was living in a ramshackle spot in Fenway with a bunch of old friends, a third floor walk-up, and our hallway light was out. It was pitch black as Amy climbed the stairs; turns out she had given her boyfriend — now husband — the address, in case I was a serial killer. We exchanged some forced small talk and I offered her a beer. She declined. Even more awkwardly, we sat down to play in my bedroom because one of my roommates was watching football. We played one song – called Accident – and she sang these sad, soulful harmonies that were just perfect. We looked at each other and just knew. And then she asked for a beer.”

Dave Richardson:“I was digging through my parents’ small record collection when I was around 9 and found two albums that particularly interested me: The Beatles’ Abbey Road and a John Lennon compilation. We always listened to oldies radio around the house and in the car, so I was familiar with some of The Beatles’ big hits. These two records pushed me over the edge and I went full blown Beatles obsessed. The lyrics, the guitar riffs, and the harmonies exploded my brain.

A couple years later, I was at a friends’ house and their parents had a dusty old acoustic guitar. I marveled at it and gave it a few tentative strums. I couldn’t stop thinking about it when I got home; I wanted to figure it out, work with it until music emerged from the strings and the sound hole. I talked to my parents about it, and they talked to my friend’s parents. The old acoustic guitar, a Norma brand (I’ve never seen another one since) ended up in my possession, and I went to work teaching myself open chords so I could play along with my Beatles CDs.

My influences have broadened considerably since then, but every song I write and every chord I play can be traced back to the music of the Fab Four.”

Ryan Flaherty (Muddy Ruckus): “I cannot say where it all began for me… I would have to write a novel… for the starting point radiates from multiple locations in time… waking instances and dreams tangled in reality… obscured over the years by the saturation of experience and memory… so with eyes closed I put my finger down on the map… when eye lids release… I see and I remember my first concert, The Pixies, in Davenport, IA, across the river from my hometown of Rock Island, IL (and also birthplace of Bix Beiderbecke, one of the most influential jazz soloist of the 1920’s… look him up!) Davenport and Rock Island were both considered “River Cities” and lay deep in blues and jazz roots and history, mostly because the Mississippi River which runs between the two cities, which served as a passage for many of those musicians back in the 20’s and 30’s. But in the 90’s… a great punk and alternative music scene had emerged.

So fast forward to 1992 (I believe I was about 14 years old). At the time, I wasn’t allowed to go to rock concerts, and I had to make up some story to get out of the house and tag along with my friends. The show was at the historical Col Ballroom. Hendrix had played there back in the day. I knew I was entering a sacred place. There were so many people… the house was packed like a sardine can. The band appeared on the stage and exploded in front of our eyes… If anyone remembers seeing the Pixies in the 90’s, or any band in that scene… you need no explanation. By the end of their first song I knew that I wanted to do exactly what I was witnessing. The elation that came over me as I watched them coarse through their anthems…. Was indescribable. I had never heard music like this before. And I thought, this music is way better than the stuff I was familiar with. I had not yet been moved so deeply, so spiritually and physically by music. I had no idea this world existed. The crowd was insane. Dancing, moshing, hailing the band as they guided us through their harmonious exhibition.

Of course I had deeper influence that came before. My older brother had a huge vinyl and cassette collection, mostly punk and classic rock . I learned so very much about music from him and not always to his approval… being my big brother and all, he had very little patience for my grubby hands rummaging through his records un-attended. Which I did on a regular basis. But when my brother went to college he left lots of those records for me and his stereo, letting me take over his basement bedroom and make it my own. It was my first haven of solitude and private creativity. I painted the floor into spirals of rainbows and filled in any wall space still left untouched by my brother with punk rock posters and paintings I made at school. I wrote my first poem and my first song in that den. I played my first guitar and painted my first portrait in that space. When I was 15 I started my first band with my friends and wrote all the song lyrics and melodies from my head and we rehearsed in that basement after school. When I was 19 I started playing my first guitar. The guitar had actually been sitting in my house my entire life. I had picked it several times over the years but it wasn’t something I gravitated towards until my late teens. By that time, it was a beast of an axe due to neglect, the strings quarter inch off the neck, I had no idea and thought it was naturally supposed to be that hard to play. Finally, I got that thing fixed at the local luthier in Rock Island. Took a few lessons at the local community college and convinced the classical guitar teacher to teach me about blues and finger picking. Luckily he was thrilled to do so and take a break from the usual curriculum. I learned some Doc Watson and Chet Atkins tunes from him. He showed me how to listen and tab out the notes. He showed me it wasn’t impossible to learn this seemingly foreign language of music. From there I got deep into the blues and delta blues. Although I had been listening to punk rock and classic rock for most of my childhood, when I started playing guitar, the blues immediately snuck in and took over for years to come. When I was 21 I moved out to California and scuffled around the coast busking and playing open mics. It was there I learned how to play with other people and learned that I could play with anyone… because music was not a foreign language after all, yet very flexible and universal form of communication and expression, especially with the absence of ego. I’d say I had already written 100 songs by then. Songs that I don’t even remember. Few years later I found myself in Europe, and I witnessed the street performance culture over there. The “gypsy” music took over my soul. I dove deep into that. Years to follow, from blues to world music, the road finally led me back to my teenage roots, punk rock mostly. Now all these styles ring true in my expression. But that is another story. There are so many more details… but that is a glimpse at my beginning… or one of my beginnings. There are many more starting points. But that is just one, or a few, that I recollect with little effort.”

Emily Mure: “There was a time I went out to my sister’s friend’s beach house with my mom and sister when I was really young. 7? 8?

It was a gorgeous day and a bunch of kids and adults were getting ready to go to the beach for the afternoon.

But someone put on Michael Jones’ “After The Rain”. It was playing in the background as we were all hustling and bustling to get our bathing suits, swimmies, and towels. But I couldn’t focus, the sound of the piano, those weird reed instruments. I never knew anything could sound that beautiful. So I asked my mom if I could stay behind with a few other people who also opted out of the beach day. She agreed and instead, I sat there, listening to the cassette tape of Michael Jones’ “After the Rain” on repeat for the entire day. I remember noticing how the room looked as the day wore on. At one point someone lit candles and I remember watching the lights dance on the wall to the music. Could the candles hear it too?

I felt guilty that I wasn’t out with everyone else, but I also didn’t care. I couldn’t miss this. How could anyone want to be anywhere else?”

I couldn’t explain it then and probably can’t now. But that feeling never went away. It comes back all the time with other songs and albums, and making them too. And I chase that feeling because it’s how I understand emotion and love and patterns of light on the wall as the day turns to night.”

Ethan Robbins (Cold Chocolate, Uncle John’s Banjo): “My relationship with the guitar started when I was 14 and I busted out my dad’s old nylon-string guitar. The guitar had only five strings (which I, at first, did not realize was abnormal) and I was using the edge of a small plastic ruler as a pick. At the time, I think I just wanted to figure out how to play some Dave Matthews songs, and as I’d played classical violin for 10 years at that point, I was hoping some technique would translate across the two instruments. After messing around on it for several days, my dad eventually showed me a few chords, and once I got that sixth string, I was off to the DMB-races.”

Carlin Tripp: “As a young child I obsessed over my parents record collection. I was constantly cycling through a few very specific albums, “Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band”, “Brothers in Arms” and “The Phantom of the Opera.” As I got older and began collecting tapes, I was in love with Michael Jackson, Billy Joel, Genesis and Motown. I was in love with how the music made me feel. It was such a magical escape, and as an only child, I spent hours in my room playing these tapes over and over again.

When I hit middle school I started playing saxophone, but without much enthusiasm. I soon switched to trumpet and became a bit more proficient at that, but when I entered High School and tried out for marching band, I felt like it was a bit too serious, and I just couldn’t hack it. I wanted to play soccer and hang with my friends instead. My senior year, my parents told me they were getting divorced, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. I refused to talk about it, and escaped through friends, and partying, sleeping in, and missing school. It was around this time that an aunt of mine lent me her Ovation acoustic guitar. That was when it all began.

I became obsessed with songwriting, trying to capture the same feelings I had experienced as a child and create them myself. And as a fan, I was still obsessing, except now it was Phish, the Grateful Dead, and the man who really drove me to play, Dave Matthews. I had a few songbooks and struggled relentlessly with his odd chord shapes, unorthodox rhythm patterns, and enchanting vocal styles. I wanted to write songs that were just like his. I was also in a band, and we used to try to cover Phish songs, without much success, but between jamming and skateboarding, our days were full.

When I graduated I headed to Northeastern, but spent the majority of my time playing guitar in dorm rooms, not attending class. Dispatch was flying around on Napster at this point and we were having a blast singing “The General”, “Elias”, pretty much anything with four or five chords and catchy lyrics. I didn’t stay there long though, and the next year I was off to art school in Santa Fe, New Mexico. My trend continued however, and along with a truly great friend who taught me more about the inner workings of the universe and music than anyone I’ve met, I managed to skip class just about every day. Sitting on the quad and playing guitar was something we became known for, and I’ll never forget the first time friends sang along to one of my original songs. It made me so happy!

My travels went on and on from there, I hit a different state every year in my twenties. From New Mexico, to Wyoming, to Michigan, Texas, Colorado, New Hampshire, Virginia, New York and eventually back to Massachusetts where it all began, riding buses, sleeping on couches, playing the acoustic guitar, writing songs all the way. I didn’t perform much, except for friends and family, and an occasional open mic, but when I moved back home at age 29 I broke out of my shell and actually started playing in front of audiences. What a blast! I’m still searching for that feeling, and I think Chad Stokes has summed it up perfectly on the newest Dispatch album. “I have no expectations, just an adolescent heart.” “

Patrick Coman: “I remember very clearly in sixth grade we had a talent show. I had this buddy named Ryan Westphall and I knew from him talking at school that his dad was a guitar player and he had started learning when he was like 7 or 8. For the talent show he and a couple other guys from our grade worked up two Nirvana covers (sans vocals) and in the song “Lithium” there’s that part where he hits the distortion pedal and the volume goes up like ten notches for the chorus, and I’m watching this and I can just feel this indescribable adrenaline rush well up inside of me.

I thought I HAVE to do this there was so much power in the music and I really wanted to figure out a way to conjure it up myself. From a really young age I had always been into songwriting or just making up goofy rhymes and poems but it clicked around then that there could be a whole different outlet for that type of creativity and one that would not get you punished by other kids but could actually make it seem cool. Anyway, I had a birthday a few weeks later and I convinced my mom to buy me this $89 Yamaha strat clone with a chip in the body the size of a golf ball. Wasn’t much to look at but it got the job done and kept me going until I traded in for a real deal Fender Mexican Strat a couple years later.”

Brian Dolzani: “I’ve been creative for as long as I can remember. My first efforts were to compose ‘Little Short Stories’, as I titled them, on tiny pieces of paper that I slipped into my father’s plastic slide film cases (and still have to this day). They were no more than 4 or 5 sentences (the brevity was perfect training for songwriting), and usually held the themes of people (or frogs, in one case) not being treated fairly for who they were or what they looked like. At 7 or 8 years old I knew the feeling of shame and how badly it made people feel. Yes, and frogs too. And me.

Discovering music, and the ability to create it, made me know there was something powerful I could harness to express my feelings and the desire to connect with the ephemeral. I wanted to go beyond this planet and bodily experience as far back as I can remember. My serious embracing of music and the guitar came the same year that I lost my father, 15 years old. Ever since then my songwriting and guitar playing has been an attempt to reach the other side; to reach whatever is missing from this world, including him. How can we so easily lose someone we love? How can the world be so cruel? If things I love can be taken, I deeply try to make right by offering work that can perhaps come close to what I long for. My only recourse and redemption for pain seemed to be through writing and music. I could perhaps make something beautiful and meaningful from a place of loss and meaninglessness.

Almost 9 records and 20 years later, the effort and intention is still the same: Can I come to terms with who I am and what this life really is? Can I reach a place I haven’t been yet?”

Damn Tall Buildings: (Max Capistran, Avery ‘Montana’ Ballotta, Jordan Alleman, Sasha Dubyk)

“One of the first times I felt inspired to play music was when Jonny Lang made one of those crazy faces when taking a big ole solo at the Paradise Rock Club. I was front row with my Dad and he accidentally splashed some sweat and spit on the front row and I was like – that is fucking badass I want to play guitar like that.”

– Max

“From the time I was a little girl, a variety of music was constantly being played around the house. I didn’t have a choice, music was part of my life. However, the first time I truly felt inspired to perform was when my Nana played me an album by Ella Fitzgerald and I just became obsessed with her voice and style. I wanted to do that.”

– Sasha

“On Sunday mornings I would watch reruns of The Beverly Hillbillies on the Hallmark channel, the theme to which was written and performed by Earl Scruggs. The sound of his banjo was like nothing I’d ever heard up before—powerful, complex, and primal. To my ears, it was the apex predator of instrumental music. I felt like the banjo was not a choice but an inevitability in my life, so I did what any kid does: solicited, nagged, and manipulated my parents to buy me a banjo! They finally gave in on my brother’s 15th birthday. It’s the best present he ever got.”

– Jordan

“It all started with my mom’s voice. She’d sing constantly and would have a diverse collection of albums playing on repeat in our house. Her excitement and musicality is what triggered my own. After hearing about her time playing violin in school orchestra, I became interested in trying the same. One day (at an instrument swap in a middle school cafeteria) I came across a fiddle that looked about my size and instinctively reached for it. I remember standing at the table with my hand on (what would soon be my first) fiddle for what felt like an eternity. I’ve been hooked ever since.”

– Montana

Hawthorn Duo: (Taylor Holland and Heather Scott) “Asking when it all began is like asking when you grew an arm, when a seed began to make a tree: music began when we began, and neither of us can remember a time without it. From Taylor growing up in a Waldorf school where song and instruments were present throughout the day, to Heather losing track of how many choir and singing ensembles she was part of, music was woven so deeply through our childhoods that we don’t see it as something we ever started. We were born into music, and choosing it is only something we do over and over as an affirmation of what we already know.

There are beginnings of different chapters. When Heather heard Joni Mitchell’s Blue album for the first time. When Taylor’s mom taught her the first three guitar chords she knew. When Heather began music school at Guilford college. When Taylor sang in a pub for the first time and realized people connected to the simple old folk songs she grew up with. When Heather performed songs she’d written with a band. When Taylor, while in South Africa for a research trip, was asked to record some of her first original songs and made her first EP.

Our chapter together began because we each realized at a similar time in our lives that we wanted to do more with music than play it at home as a hobby. I (Taylor) had just gotten back from South Africa, and Heather called me up. It was kind of out of the blue—we had mutual friends and had sang together once or twice before, but nothing had come of it. She asked if I wanted to jam and also maybe sing a few songs at a house show she was hosting the following week. At the show, we each performed solo and then sang together…there were three songs: Don’t Think Twice (Bob Dylan), Across The Blue Ridge Mountains (Rising Appalachia), and Goldenrod, a tune we had co-wrote with our friend Henna a year earlier. Singing together, we realized how uniquely our voices blended—totally different, yet somehow perfectly compatible, we knew it was special. We grew from there, as musicians and friends.

We called ourselves Hawthorn because of the tree’s heart-healing properties, it’s folkloric connection to the spirit world, the strength of the word’s sound. For us, Hawthorn is sisterhood. It is a platform upon which we are able to see and be seen, where we can bare our hearts to one another, where we can encourage radical openness and passionate strength. Hawthorn serves as a portal to our collective and individual purpose.”

The People Have Spoken, Your 2017 Big Reds…

Brian Carroll — Wed, 29 Nov 2017 14:44:52 +0000

I feel like this portion of the year and this post in particular is always somewhat tough. First of all, it marks the end of a sh*t ton of traffic to the website because of this whole voting thing…selfishly speaking of course.

But, I suppose under a more philanthropically guided lens, we have to go and announce “winners” of a voting process when I truly feel that all the folks who were a part of this process are ‘winners’ – be it those who nominated a favorite musician, those who were a part of the pool for each category, or the artists who didn’t get a mention on this list but played their asses off in 2017, released something beautiful and wholehearted or just spent half their lives on the road playing for anyone who would bend an ear to listen. You are all winners in my book and I hope, that in 2018, we can continue to do all the folks we want to talk about here on red line justice and get even just a handful more people to tune into what you are creating. Its important and we appreciate it.

So, I will stop the droning on and on and getting all sappy with you all. Without further adieu, your 2017 Big Red Recognitions. Congrats to all of you, you certainly deserve it…

Songwriter of the Year: Rachel Sumner

Musician of the Year: Kathleen Parks

Rock n’ Roller’s of the Year: Muddy Ruckus and Say Darling (tie)

Americana/Roots Act of the Year: Twisted Pine

Album of the Year: Twisted Pine (self-titled)

Favorite Local Venue: Club Passim

Forgotten Relics of Sonic Joy: My First Guitar

Brian Carroll — Wed, 13 Jan 2016 18:54:08 +0000

An artist has their paintbrush and canvas, an architect has their drafting table and pencil, a carpenter has a hammer and nails, and musicians they have their instruments. They come and go. Often times we acquire far more than we actually need, sell off one to pay for another, spiral into regret of losing “the one” later on, or move on and build upwards from the entry level kit. For me, personally, I always look back to that first instrument that gave me a voice I didn’t realize I had.

I have always been (at least my mom would tell me) a hard worker. I never really applied myself in school, but did well all through high school regardless…college may have been a different story. But when it came to work, a job, doing things be it building on job sites with uncles growing up or other things, I always busted my ass. I got a job washing dishes when I was 13 at a country club in my town and quickly rose up the ladder from dish-dog to salad station, fry guy, and finally sous chef. Before that I had a paper route and caddied at that same country club. The idea here being that I was the help at that club and not a member. I remember being about 12 years old and really into Nirvana, Tom Petty, Smashing Pumpkins, and thinking if only I could get a guitar I could do what they all were doing on MTV. A couple of my pals and I would sit in our bedrooms, listening to tapes of our favorite artists for hours on end, drumming on the side table and ripping air guitar through the room. One day my best pal asked his parents for an instrument and they obliged. So, thinking that same sentiment may lay with my own parents, I did the same to which they said “earn some money and get one”. What may have seemed harsh to 12 year old me, I now am incredibly grateful for as my parents engrained the notion of hard work deep into my thick skull that had riffs and lyrics from my favorite grunge and punk bands rummaging through it all day long. 18 years later I am still playing and my old pal hung up his axe after a couple months of lessons.

(me with my first ‘band’ my buddies Mikey and Libbs)

I remember the day I saw it. I asked my mom to drive me to the local music shop (Music Unlimited in Hanover…RIP) and wandered underneath the guitars hanging on the wall. Flamebursts, Les Pauls, ES-335s, a couple in cases with price tags in the thousands and a host of Stratocaster style guitars sitting out on the floor. Traditional sunburst, blue, pink, and in the back of the pack was a forest green strat. Part of a package with a 10 watt amp, a guitar cable, strap and gig bag. I picked it up, played the only couple of notes I had garnered from sitting outside my aforementioned pals bedroom as he had guitar practice and listening in, and from that moment on was hooked. I butchered the shit out of ‘Back in Black’ by AC/DC and unfolded the hundred and twenty bucks that was mostly in 1s and 5s onto the counter top at the register and went home with that guitar that day. My parent’s basement turned into my laboratory for music and soon I had a friend who played drums and another who played guitar. Countless hours were spent in the basement at my buddy’s place and mine, butchering the shit out of songs and extended jams on 3 three chords, but we were in heaven.

Eventually I bought on those pickguards with Stevie Ray’s initials etched into them and put it on, installed new pick ups (though with my playing at the time, Texas Specials made no difference, I wasn’t all that good) and played the shit out of that thing. I think that one day, for practice in a band I was in in high school for a very brief period, I left that green Stratocaster at the drummers place and never saw it again. It was summer between college and high school and we had a few gigs at the local bandstand, a few friends grad parties, that kind of stuff. I went off to school and never saw that strat again. For whatever reason I have been thinking about Stratocasters a lot. I have a tele that I dig alright, but man that first strat was the instrument that gave me a voice. It was an extension of me. I spent more time with that guitar than my lacrosse equipment, my friends, or my high school girlfriend for that matter. That guitar was (and will be) a piece of my music and art for as long as I live.

What was your first instrument?

Community Support: 2016 Iguana Music Fund Announcements Made

Brian Carroll — Thu, 07 Jan 2016 16:14:06 +0000

For those that may not know, we here at Red Line Roots adore Club Passim and everyone involved from the folks behind the board, the chefs cooking up delicious meals, the talent on stage, and those behind the scenes turning the crank, investing time, love and money into the non-profit to support the community around it. Each year the Iguana Music Fund gives approximately $45,000 in grants to individual artists in amounts from $500 to $2,000 each. Grants are used for projects and expenses to aid in artists’ career growth, and range from recording projects to community programs to specialized equipment or instruments. Many of the recipient’s then descend on Club Passim to talk about their projects, updates, and perform a song for the audience. (I suggest getting your spot reserved in advance as last year it was packed to the brim and Mrs. Red had to grab a coffee across the street until the place emptied out a little…) This year that night is being held on Monday, March 14^th and you can reserve your spot at this link: http://passim.org/club/passim-monday-discovery-series-sponsored-nine-athens-music-iguana-music-night

I have been a direct beneficiary of that work and dedication and Passim’s Iguana Fund grant helped tremendously in allowing me to produce two volumes the community driven Locals Covering Locals projects along with our friends at Riverview Studios. For the support of Passim and the Iguana Grant I am forever grateful and, while we were not bestowed with another grant to continue the project this year, the torch has been passed on to a few of the project’s alumni and some other favorites of ours. The complete list of grant recipient’s can be found HERE, but in the meanwhile here are a couple of the artists receiving grant’s that I am particularly excited for (and to see what they do with the grants they received).

Laurence Scudder is one of those folks who performed on multiple volumes of the Locals Covering Locals project. He joined Ryan Fitzsimmons and Jim Larkin to tackle Greg Klyma’s tune “Helen Rose” , then played viola on his own tune “Bumps in the Road” while it was being covered by his pal M.R. Poulopoulos, and most recently I invited him to perform solo on volume 3 of the project. Who he covers, well, you will just have to wait and see when the project is released in the next month. Scudder will be printing hard copies of his band, Spotted Tiger’s, latest record. And if you caught the review I published recently of ‘Cloud Year’ you know you want to get your hands on a hard copy.

Another alumni of the project, Dietrich Strause…who will be on volume 3 as well…is another fantastic songwriter that has a long history with Passim and took home a grant last year to fix up his old Martin to stage ready condition again. With his last release being released just over 2 years back I am hoping his grant will help to see another record of great songwriting come to fruition.

One last grant winner I am particularly excited about is Honeysuckle. The band came to my ears through their fantastic performance at this past year’s Newport Folk Festival. The band was a sublime fit for the museum stage and the musicianship, harmonies, and Holly McGarry’s honey-toned voice echoed everything folk (both old and contemporary). The band’s grant will help see the realization of their upcoming debut full length record and they plan on having that release show at Passim on March 24. A sure reason to get to the Club multiple times in March!

There are 22 other great projects being funded this year, including two Mini Iguana multi-year grants for the Sub Rosa Songwriting Retreat and Miles of Music Camp. These are two incredibly important projects as they touch and influence not just one act or songwriter, but a whole slew of them.

Get on over, check out the list, and check out some music from all the artists today. Support local, independent artists. This is a big deal.

Sixteen for ‘16: Looking Ahead to Concerts in Boston

Ken Templeton — Mon, 04 Jan 2016 13:37:49 +0000

At this time of year, it’s customary to reflect on what makes us grateful. As someone who is seldom happier than when I see live music, I am incredibly grateful for living near a city that boasts incredible opportunities for live music, week-in, week-out. Here are sixteen concerts already on the books for 2016 that I’m pretty excited about. This takes us through the spring, basically. But there is enough great music in the first few months to last the whole year.

I’ve stayed away from the bigger venues, even though they have some great shows lined up for 2016. So even though I am counting the days until Jason Isbell / Shovels & Rope, they’re not on the list below because I assume if you don’t know about it already, you live in a depressing cave, literally or figuratively, and probably don’t go see live music anyway. Adele isn’t here either (shut up, you know you want to go) and though I’d love to see James Taylor at Fenway, that’s not what this list is about.

I won’t make all of these shows, but will be there in spirit each and every time. Hope you make some in person.

January 6, 13, 20: Julie Rhodes. Atwood’s. Encouraged by Dan Blakeslee and Jonah Tolchin to start making music, Julie Rhodes is making waves with her powerful voice and dedication to singing the blues. She’s in residency at Atwood’s every Wednesday in January. With a voice like this, it’s tempting to go every damn time. Here she is singing In Your Garden.

January 7: Suitcase Junket. Passim. I got to see Matt Lorenz open for Charlie Parr in 2014 and have wanted to get back to see him ever since. Honestly, his soundcheck was totally intoxicating–throatsinging’ll do that. The guy has so much musical talent and geniously combines genres to create a sound all his own. Check out the video for Earth Apple here.

January 9: Sarah Borges. Atwood’s. What the hell are you doing on a Sunday afternoon at 4:00 that is better than listening to Sarah Borges? Nothing. Oh, and it’s free. So go to Atwood’s, eat some awesome fries and listen to great music.

January 15: Muddy Ruckus. TOAD. This duo from Maine has been on my wish-list for a while, as they combine folk, blues, and gypsy jazz for really driving, compelling songs. There are faint echoes of Brown Bird for me when I hear these two.

January 22: Palehound. Great Scott. With one of the best daytrotter sessions of 2015, Palehound made me sit up and take notice. Their sound is ominous and slow-burning with lyrics that tend to linger with you.

January 27: Smooth Hound Smith. Atwood’s. This duo that turns out raw rhythm and blues with pitch-perfect harmony has an album coming out in January. They turn up at Atwood’s about a week after it drops and I can’t wait to see them. They were on a bill last spring at Cafe 939 that I couldn’t make so I’m happy they’re back so soon.

February 6: Rayland Baxter / Margaret Glaspy. Brighton Music Hall. Rayland Baxter had one of the best albums of 2015 with Imaginary Man. His lyrics are often wry and walk a fine line between narrative and imagery and his voice has incredible range. I just heard Glaspy the other day, on these Paste sessions and can’t wait to hear more. This will be a great chance to hear these two in a small venue.

February 20: Red Line Roots 3-year Anniversary. The Burren. You better be there. Meadows Brothers, Honeysuckle, Ian Fitzgerald, and Hailey Magee. Not only are we so very lucky to see all these folks in one night, we couldn’t ask for a better spot. This one is circled and starred on the calendar.

February 25: Joe Pug / Mandolin Orange. The Sinclair. Joe Pug has been a favorite for a long time and was a pioneer in the belief that if you get your music out to people, the people will respond. He still offers selections of his music for free. For about a year, my younger brother was bugging me to listen to Mandolin Orange. I finally did a few weeks ago and he was right: they’re really good. Here is their awesome cover of “Boots of Spanish Leather.” Their new album, Such Jubilee, is aptly named.

March 10: Patty Griffin, Anais Mitchell, Sara Watkins. Sanders Theatre. This is just going to be a special night. Watkins has been involved in some of the best collaborations recently, including The Watkins Family Hour and I’m With Her. Griffin’s album Servant of Love was on many best-of lists for 2015. And everything I’ve heard about Anais Mitchell live has been incredible. Each of these women are such special performers. It’s kind of too much to think about how they’ll play together.

March 11: Larry Campbell and Teresa Williams. Passim. Larry Campbell was the number one reason (in my humble opinion) that Bob Dylan’s band was so good in the 1990s and early 2000s. He produced Levon Helm’s albums, produced the raucous Ramble at The Ryman and is one of the most understated and dynamic guitarists I’ve ever seen (not to mention his fiddle playing on “Tears of Rage” one night that I still reminisce about–couldn’t find that one on the youtube, but here’s one with Elvis Costello. You’re welcome.). Teresa Williams, Campbell’s wife, is one of the great singers in American roots music today. Here is their incredible cover of Attics of My Life–it’ll give you shivers.

March 18: Sam Amidon + Glenn Kotche. Stave Sessions. Another great collaboration. Kotche is a brilliant, brilliant percussionist and it will be fun to see his interplay with Amidon, an accomplished multi-instrumentalist and songwriter, the way he’s done so well with Tweedy and Stirrat as the backbone of Wilco since Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.

April 8: Drew Holcomb and The Neighbors / Jill Andrews. Sinclair. This is one of those situations where I’m more excited about the opener than the headliner. To be fair, I don’t know Drew Holcomb’s stuff well yet (what I’ve heard sounds great). But Jill Andrews’s sessions on daytrotter are worth putting on repeat all day (here, here and here). And her collaboration with Seth Avett is one of the best things to come across my twitter feed this year.

April 12: Thao and The Get Down Stay Down. Sinclair. When you see a video of this band playing live, you know you’re not getting it–the energy, the feeling that video just can’t capture. It’s been a while since they’ve been east, and I’m really glad they’ll be back.

April 14: Esme Patterson. Paradise Rock Club. Everything Esme Patterson does is gold. When she was singing with Paper Bird, when she performs with Shakey Graves, and her own solo work–it is all textured with her ability to be light and grave; powerful and understated. She’s opening this show for San Fermin.

June 11: Chris Smither. Sinclair. Legend.

There are so many shows not on this list. I’ve missed many that should be on our collective radar. Who are you excited to see in 2016?

7 Photographers that Inspired Me in 2015

Brian Carroll — Thu, 17 Dec 2015 14:58:34 +0000

2015 was the year where I founded my love affair with being behind a lens. The very first year I would actually consider calling myself “a photographer” and not just a guy who owns a few cameras. A big part of what Red Line Roots has evolved into is the photo and video work I am blessed to get to do with insanely talented musicians and songwriters.

I have been lucky enough to be invited to photograph at festivals like Newport Folk and Freshgrass in past years but this year in particular found me really diving further in the art. Thinking about composition rather than just snapping “cool shots” of performances, delving into the world of portrait photography, and toying with film instead of simply utilizing digital formats. I have a lot to learn and a long road to travel, but now more than even I am excited to go further and further down the rabbit hole of making photographs. Luckily, there are a host of folks out there who are an inspiration everyday that I see their work. Many of them I met through the conduit of festivals like Newport and became an immediate fan of their work as a result.

Here are seven of the folks who’s work truly influenced me and inspired me in the realm of photography in 2015…

Giles Clement – Giles is the king of large format photography. His tintypes are becoming a thing of legend and his work in particular with Newport Folk and the artists who perform at it have been shared all over the interwebs. There is something that Giles is able to capture in people’s eyes in his portraits that you just don’t see elsewhere. The fact that he also hauls around that giant set up with him and is able to capture everything from beautiful desert landscapes to the very soul of the person that is sitting in front of his lens. That is something incredibly rare and special.

Emilia Pare – Emilia was a name that was new to me this year at Newport, though she was running round with a lot of folks that I already knew. She has an innate ability to perfectly capture the intimacy of the moment. It seems that her camera is pointed in the right place at the right time to capture incredible human moments…but in reality she is just on top of all that is around her at all times. Her work has a very natural feel in how she frames her photographs and utilizes light, but also manages to draw attention to things without making them obvious. Subtlety seeps its way into her work and its incredibly engaging time after time.Joshua Black Wilkins – Joshua’s work is f*cking heavy. He is able to draw emotion out of a person and capture it in his photography unlike most folks I have ever come across. There is a grit and dirtiness to his art that is balanced by the sexiness of it all. His work is very “people” heavy. I think there is an underlying desire in Wilkins to understand people through the use of portraiture. The human condition, what makes people tick, what makes them sad or joyful or any emotion. He portrays that in his work very strongly and each and every piece he unveils is a work of art.

Laura Partain – In the museum stage I saw a girl with a hat darting back and forth with a Hasselblad through the course of the Wildwood Revival set at NFF. The intensity of her expertly lining up the perfect shot with the smile of friendliness that followed was a wonderful juxtaposition. Laura is another artist who dabbles in multiple formats and the output is fantastic. I was in wonder when I found out she shot the majority (or all) of the event in film. She is as versatile as they come and seems to be constantly challenging herself. There is an incredible timeless quality in her work.

Brian Lima – Brian has a very clean and crisp style to his shots. Every detail is present in his stage photographs of Newport Folk and I remember beign drawn to the vastness of how deep his photographs seem to go. His “backstage looking out” shots (one this year in particular of The Tallest Man on Earth) immediately captured me when I first heard of him and he continues to impress. A sea of people standing in front of the sea, it almost seems endless. His use of color is also incredibly beautiful and impactful. His portrait work is great as well…you can tell that he takes the time getting to know a person and pull those good vibes out of them and into the camera lens.

Josh Wool – There is something very fashionable about a lot of Josh’s work. His pieces could be popping up in your instagram feed or hanging in a gallery, and each way is equally as moving. I mean, it is hard to describe his work as anything but absolutely gorgeous. His work is able to balance warm and cool in a way that I find almost impossible. He evokes moods. He makes you feel what the subject in his portraits are feeling. Incredible stuff.

Kaitlin Chow – Kaitlin had a series (a collaborative series with Eric Tsurumoto (@fthatnoise on instagram)). this year using dancers and flour that was absolutely breathtaking. Something simple, but executed in way that captured movement in a way that was exceptional. I got to know that work through her work around Newport Folk. Another lover of music who attends the fest to shoot year after year. Her NFF work includes some great portraits and capturing the grounds and atmosphere of the festival and she rolled out some cool double exposures as well…and she even did some incredible illustrative sketches around Newport this year too that really caught my eye. The gal is like a triple, or even quadruple threat when it comes to creativity.

***I am fairly certain each and every one of these artists have work for sale on their sites. Photographs and prints make wonderful last minute Holiday gifts, so hit those hyperlinked names about, check out their portfolios and buy something from one of these incredible talents today!***

Red’s ’10 Best Things I Saw in 2015′ List

Brian Carroll — Wed, 16 Dec 2015 15:03:59 +0000

While I already wrote my top 15 albums of 2015 list for the year, the article that Ken wrote the other day got me thinking about the live experience and what really “got” me in 2015. Things that changed how I view music, creating it and feeling it. It is damn near impossible to do that in record form (though this year there were a few that did it for me) so in an effort to be as broad as possible in my “best” coverage, I decided to go ahead and take a stab at the best things I felt through music this year…in a live setting.

Dan Blakeslee at Tweed River Music Festival: It is hard to think that a human being has enough spirit in them to force away rain and clouds and bring on the sun, but that’s essentially just what happened this summer at the Tweed River Music Festival. Just before Blakeslee and crew took the stage a torrential downpour and whipping winds opened up on the field at Tweed. Folks ran to cover electronics and a few brave souls huddled close under the overhang of the stage. Their bravery was rewarded with an acoustic set from Blakeslee and his band until the rain let off. It was truly a magical moment and one where so many artists would be discovered. Dan made the very best and did the only thing he knew to do, just keep playing. One of the best.

Joe Fletcher at the Columbus Theatre (Providence, RI): Joe has a way about him. Whether he is playing alone in the corner of a bar or up on stage with a full band at a festival, he engages people in a way that is almost superhuman. When he looks off into the crowd it feels almost like he is locked right in on you, and when he asks you to sing along well you better damn well do it. This night at the Columbus was one of those nights. Joe tightroped on the very edge of the stage as he sung into the crowd, rather than at it. Add in a few duets with Ian Fitzgerald and a couple band numbers (with MorganEve Swain and Bryan Minto) and man! It was a real special one at a special venue amongst some real special folks.

I’m just going to go ahead and wrap the next four in a nice package back to back to back, since they happened at the same festival (though, different days).

Christopher Paul Stelling at Newport Folk Festival: Stelling ruined the possibility for any other artist on stage at Newport to have the most memorable set by getting down on one knee and proposing, but it was what came before that moment that really deserves a spot on this list. He feverously worked his way through his set with an unbridled passion and grit. The harmonies he and Julia Christgau unraveled on the stage and the heart and sweat that was poured on that hallowed ground, one of the highlights of all my Newport Folk experiences.

Margo Price at Newport Folk Festival: The voice. Literally, I could just start calling Margo “the voice” because after hearing this gal sing I am pretty sure nothing else I hear really compares or matters. Using the boys of J.P. Harris’s band further cemented that East Nashville is a community to aspire to, and still they played like they had been a band for a decade. Price has a swagger and confidence that is equally balanced by something a bit deeper, a reserved part of her that will only let you in so far and when she is singing out. The Museum stage turned into a honky tonk for an all too short set from this gal and her backing band of borrowed buddies. 2016 is going to be the year of Price I have a feeling…

Haunt the House at Newport Folk Festival: I cried, and I cried more than once. The trio form of Haunt the House with Bessie Bessin, Amato Zino and Will Houlihan creates some of the most beautiful and moving sounds I have ever heard in my life. The set at Newport was no exception. I am not sure words can really do it justice…it was just pure magic.

Aaron Lee Tasjan at Newport Folk Festival: ALT is one of my favorite songwriters, performers, and comedians. The guys on stage banter is far above any I have ever heard. Self deprecation and loathing was never funnier than with this guy. Then he plays guitar and you are like “holy shit, this dude is a crazy good guitarist”. Then he sings and you are like “man, this guy has got a great voice too.” And finally you listen and realize he is able to spin serious tales in a way that makes really important things that should be said more palatable and humorous. A 3 minute interlude during one of his tunes with a story was a highlight and by the time he unplugged his acoustic the crowd was still hanging on each word, begging for more.

David Rawlings Machine at The Wilbur: If you need to hear more about this night then hit the review HERE. This was the best night of music I think I have ever taken in in my life.

The Meadows Brothers at Livestock (Old Bethpage Restoration): The atmosphere can be half the battle when catching a show and the one at Livestock was one that surely did not disappoint. Inside of an old barn shaped like a compass with four outward facing points and GIANT ceilings helped with the acoustic. Brothers Ian and Dustin are always on point. I have never seen these guys perform even less that perfectly. Harmonies: check. Bluesy harp solo: check. Incredible pickin: check. Everything just worked for the fellas in this setting and they slayed it.

Lula Wiles at The Meeting House Tour (Concord, MA) In 2014 I feel in love with the trio of songstresses and the harmonies and tales they spun. But 2015 had me in awe of how well each of them could adapt and play the part of the lead or supporting role and change on a dime if need be. The Meeting House Tour show was the pinnacle of a great performance for the gals and I think the first time I heard Mali take the lead on her tune “Mama”. The girls throw it back and forth to each other with ease and where I original saw beautiful and delicate harmonies I was witnessing the three ladies perform with a more feverous passion and drive. Don’t get me wrong, the beauty is still there but there is a badassness that also blends into the live set of the trio.

The Milk Carton Kids at Berklee Performance Center: Nearly as good as the duo of Kenneth Pattengale and Joey Ryan was the opening act, Kacy & Clayton. It set the stage for a truly brilliant performance from a band I have grown to love so much. They played old favorites, some of the best tunes from the new record, and even ended the encore with a Pink Floyd cover. The harmonies, the witty banter, and Kenneth’s guitar playing, everything is just so fantastic whenever these guys play. The fact that it was a seated crowd, listening intently, and we were two rows from the stage also helped.

EBASS: Revitalizing a Community of Songwriters

Brian Carroll — Tue, 15 Dec 2015 14:35:44 +0000

Last week I walked into a friend’s house with a camera, some recording equipment and offered to shoot live, one-take videos for a collection of 9 up and coming Boston area songwriters for a fraction of what I would normally charge for something like that. I may have given myself an ulcer wondering how it would go, what kind of personalities I would run into, and how I was going to shoot footage that the people would dig, make it unique enough so each video had it’s own life, and finally edit all this stuff and get it back to folks in a relatively quick manner. Well, it all went well…shockingly enough. And while I was filming and technically working during these sessions I also got to enjoy a true cross section of music bridging genres and styles and all sorts of different voices, even though all were played on acoustic guitars and sung. It was just another reminder that there is an intensely large and vastly talented pool of gifted musicians and writers in this town. The diversity just in a genre that people tend to generalize into “singer-songwriter”…meaning person with instrument and singing playing ANY kind of music in my opinion…is far more than a label can do justice to. And to be able to cross pollinate within that genre is a judgement that we should take and run with sometimes. Community building is at the heart and what is important.

(Sophie Kohn performing her song “Fourth of July” during those aforementioned sessions)

In the past two years, in particular, I have noticed a “replenishment” of sorts in young, upcoming songwriters around town (especially in part due to the haven that the Lizard Lounge Open Mic and Tom Bianchi provide for such folks). There is a HUGE population of songwriters here in the general Boston/Cambridge/Somerville area. There is no questioning that. I also wouldn’t question the fact that many of them are struggling to find gigs, find likeminded people, and find where they fit into this bigger equation of musical vastness that we have here in town. Sure enough, it can be a scary prospect. With venues dwindling and new artists popping up each time a guy or a gal picks up an acoustic guitar and spews their feelings onto a notebook the places to play and people to play them is an unbalanced scale. But there is hope and people trying to make a difference. One of those folks is Hailey Magee and just a year into establishing EBASS (Emerging Boston Area Singer Songwriters) she has created a safe place and community for those folks looking for it.

(Hailey is joined by fellow EBASS member and musician Maxwell Bailey for RLR’s ‘Duets’ series)

Magee says that she noticed the chasm between emerging local artists and “established” performers in Boston. Talented emerging musicians had difficulty booking gigs, promoting shows, collaborating with others, and developing strong audiences because, as newcomers to the city scene, they didn’t have the resources they needed. Hoping to break down the barriers that separated new and established artists, she created a Facebook group which soon erupted into having over 500 members and garnering the attention of 20 community partnerships.

In a short time there has been much movement and an evolution with the collective of songwriters with Magee at the forefront. When asked about the progress and growth of the group she remarks, “I feel so, so good about EBASS, and ridiculously lucky to work with all of our partners who have helped get EBASS off the ground. We’ve gone from 100 to 500 members in six months, held over 15 events, and are starting an open mic in January. We’ve even received funds from donors who think we’re on the right track. The driving factor is really the need, in this community, for a community that acknowledges, respects, and books emerging talent, resources notwithstanding. Every EBASS member can relate to that need, and they’ve been amazing in helping make it a reality.”

(David You brings his bluesy pop sentiment to the “Hailey’s House” sessions last week)

But like all things, there are certainly challenges in driving something this large with sufficient force. As one might imagine, lots of folks want to benefit from the kindness and drive of others to create harmony within a population of artists but only a rare few really wish to exert the effort to give back. With EBASS budding at such a rapid pace, it can be hard to keep on top of it all and harness that expansion with so many moving parts. “Sometimes I worry that EBASS is growing too fast!,” Hailey says. “For the time being, EBASS is a one-person show. I love building the group from the ground up, but I could always, always use some help. Graphic designers to make show posters, web masters to help with our website, virtual gurus to coordinate our social media, google sheets pros to manage our member database, folks willing to hang our posters around town… I’m eagerly looking for volunteers to contribute any time they can.” And folks can certainly help out with things. The website of the community has all sorts of information and opportunities for folks to volunteer and get involved.

The future looks bright for EBASS in providing artists and writers a place to connect and a voice to share what they are up to. But, there are certainly uphill battles to win in the process. Hailey has high hopes for more growth and expansion in the short and longterm stating “My long-term vision for EBASS includes a four specific things. First, a team of volunteers who help me coordinate our work! Second, EBASS events in every corner of Boston – not just the Somerville/Cambridge area. Third, more EBASS events in home/intimate spaces (I wrote about the need for non-traditional venues in a blog post here: http://www.haileymagee.com/writing/). And, finally and most importantly, I want EBASS to become a legitimate, registered entity like an LLC or non-profit.”

And of course, that growth may come with giving up some of the responsibility of the day to day operation, but at the core the message remains the same for the group and its members. “Over time, I want EBASS to be recognized as a music entity that intentionally books diverse, enriching bills. I’m talking diverse in terms of genre, gender, race, class, and age. Inclusivity is a definite problem in the Boston music scene, and I think a community of emerging, inspired artists has the ability to buck that trend!”

Ten Songs that Floored Me Live in 2015

Ken Templeton — Mon, 14 Dec 2015 13:31:49 +0000

This list is a slightly different take on the year-end list. These are ten songs that when I saw them performed live, they left me speechless. Not all of them were written in 2015–in fact, many were not. But these versions of these songs happened live in 2015 and never will again. Charlie Parr describes live music as moving air molecules around for a while and that a song performed live is always a unique event. For me, the air molecules these musicians moved are still buzzing, and thinking about these moments brings me immeasurable joy. In no particular order, ten times I was floored by live music in 2015:

Dave Rawlings Machine, Short-Haired Women Blues, State Theatre (Portland, ME). This is probably the best concert I’ve ever been to. I couldn’t write a thing about it because I didn’t want my inability to capture it interfere with how it felt to be there. “Short-Haired Women Blues” displays perfectly what makes this band so special: the harmonies between Rawlings, Welch, and Watson; Brittany Hass’s ability to provide full texture to a song; Paul Kowert’s understated perfection on the bass. It’s so difficult to pick one song from this concert, but they probably could have just done this rendition, said “Thank you, good night” and I would have been happy.

Aaron Lee Tasjan, Living Proof, Newport Folk Festival. ALT has had a productive year, with a fantastic EP and LP. His appearance at Newport showed off what makes him one of my favorite new artists–his talent as a guitarist and incredible wry lyrical humor. “Living Proof” was the last song in his set at Newport and it’s made me a fan for life. He sings, “There’s so much I can’t remember, like how many L’s are in Van Halen. / But you’d never catch me spelling Lynyrd Skynyrd wrong. / ‘Cause Eddie, Alex, and Diamond Dave only wanted us all to pay ‘em / But Ronnie Van Zandt wanted us all to sing along.” It’s so hard to write songs that are both funny and thoughtful and he skates the line with Prine-ish skill.

Hip Hatchet, David’s Wolves, Atwood’s. I had wanted to see Hip Hatchet since his debut daytrotter session came out. This song, the first on that session, is what hooked me and it was just as good in person. He can growl and he can belt as a singer and his fingerpicking is expert. Singing about two of his friends, Hip Hatchet says: “They call me out, when I hold my breath / On the things I said, against the things that I meant.” They sound like good friends to me.

Hiss Golden Messenger, What Shall Be (Shall Be Enough), One Longfellow Square (Portland, ME). After an incredible set at Newport with the full band, I knew I had to drive up to Portland to see MC Taylor in this solo show. OLS is a real listening room, with pin-drop quiet crowds, and this song, with its beautiful simplicity, was the highlight for me. “Oh know the darkness, know the light / Oh know the light, you can’t own the light.” It was made even more special by Taylor’s comment that he hadn’t played it in years.

Sturgill Simpson, Listening to The Rain / Motivator, Paradise Rock Club. This was the last song in a very long night for Sturgill, who was battling the flu. His guitarist, Laur Joamets, put the group on his back and astonished the crowd at Paradise for two straight hours. In the encore, Simpson dug deep for this cover of The Stanley Brothers and T-Rex and delivered the vocal punch he’s known for. If you haven’t seen this crew live, you really need to–and stand stage right so you can see what Joamets is doing; just don’t blink.

Charlie Parr, Over the Red Cedar, Atwood’s. Charlie Parr writes songs that are true. In this case, one of the things I love about this song is that the verses don’t rhyme (for the most part). It expresses all the anxiety of parenthood (and maybe just of personhood) with perfect understatement. It does help too that Charlie Parr picks faster with just his thumb and index finger than most people can with all five fingers.

Bahamas, Lost in the Light, Newport Folk Festival. This song closed Bahamas’ set at the Festival. I loved the set so much, for the band’s swagger and ease and incredible musicianship. But this song is one of those when you hear the first notes and you just think “yes, they’re playing this one.” “If someone could help me now, they’d help you too. / They’d help you to see it through / All the hard things we all gotta do. / ‘Cause this life is long, so you wouldn’t be wrong / Being free, leaving me, on my own.” So gorgeous.

The Wood Brothers, One More Day, Somerville Theatre. I love that the Wood Brothers are always experimenting with their songs, finding new textures to them. In this case, “One More Day,” typically the electric-guitar driven jam that has Chris Wood soft-shoeing and everybody dancing at the end of the show, was transformed around one microphone into an almost somber reflection on getting just one more chance to get it right. Perhaps more than any other performers I’ve seen, The Wood Brothers talk openly about the symbiotic relationship between audience and musician. When some folks started to clap along and others hushed them, Oliver Wood leaned into the mic and said, “There’s nothing wrong with that,” and he drew everybody in, leading to a great big, beautiful sing along. Here they are playing on a carriage in New Orleans:

Christopher Paul Stelling, Brick by Brick, Atwood’s. “Stomp your feet,” Christopher Paul Stelling said during “Brick by Brick” and it was if we had all been holding back, waiting for permission and he didn’t have to tell us twice. Cambridge Street knew there was something going down at Atwood’s because Stelling had has stomping and clapping along (when we weren’t gaping) with his unbelievably fast and clean picking.

Bhi Bhiman, Guttersnipe, Prescott Park (Portsmouth, NH). Somehow, Prescott Park lines up an unbelievable summer concert series year after year. This year featured The Milk Carton Kids, Richard Thompson, David Wax Museum and this show with Bhiman and Josh Ritter. In a perfect setting, Bhiman’s voice soared and swirled over all of us gathered outside together. In the refrain, he sings, “I’m well on my way to feeeeeeeeeeelin’ fine” and you can try to sing along, but it’s damn hard to do what he’s doing. He performs with an effortless confidence and real joy between him and his band–they actually grin while playing, like they’re doing what they love or something.

Max Garcia Conover, Eddie’s Wine, Club Passim. Max is incredibly prolific: recently, he released his 29th song this year. I first heard “Eddie’s Wine” at Passim last fall and it set the tone for a fantastic set featuring Max’s intricate, precise finger-picking.

It has a great beat with the suitcase drum and lyrics that are both catchy and thoughtful: “they built a new horizon just to satisfy their greed / but there’s no amount of running that’ll get them where they think they want to be.” I asked Max recently how he churns out these amazing songs week after week. He kind of laughed for a second and then said, “I work my ass off.” Goddamn right.

Here’s to all the performers who work their asses off every night and left even one person in their audience with the kind of feeling that makes things clearer for just a few moments. You make our communities richer, healthier, happier places. Thank you so much.