Classical
Testa Rosa
When Milwaukee-based band The Mustn’ts shook hands and called it a day, they couldn’t have realized what a happy parting of ways it would become when two even more brilliant bands were re-formed from the not-even-settled dust: The Celebrated Workingman and Testa Rosa. The latter, a condensed version of The Mustn’ts (all three members of Testa Rosa were in The Mustn’ts) is Betty Blexrud-Strigens (vocals/guitar/keys), Damian Strigens (guitar/drums/bass/vocals) and Paul Hancock (bass/piano/guitar/vocals). Testa Rosa’s astounding triple threat of clever lyricism, luminous melody and the best girl vocals to be heard since the days of buttery 60s pop is an undeniable force to both listeners who play music themselves and casual pop consumers. Those who understand the complexities of composing a diamond of a pop song will hold genuine appreciation for the effortless songs nestled between the covers of Testa Rosa’s first release. And even the tone-deaf will be floored by Blexrud-Strigens’s alluring vocals, which hover lucidly over even the grittiest of their songs. Hancock and Strigens are the driving force behind the atmospheric pretty-pop primarily written by Blexrud-Srigens. Testa Rosa effortlessly ranges genres and manages to smooth them beautifully (compliments of producer/engineer mastermind Beau Sorenson of Madison’s Smart Studios). Two of the best songs on the album, “Ollie & Delilah” and “Arms of a Tree,” demonstrate this mix – “Ollie & Delilah” is a heartbreaking but punchily-penned song about two young lovers lead astray, with heart-thumping drumbeats, huge, echoing guitars and ghostly keyboards; “Arms of a Tree” is a wistful and lovely ballad which showcases Blexrud-Strigen’s alto perfectly. For lack of a better word, ‘perfectly’ is just how Testa Rosa’s first release appears to have turned out.
Oct 1st, 2007 by Erin Wolf
A matter of perspective
By Blaine Schultz, Jon Anne Willow and Kenya Evans + Photos by Kat Jacobs and Erin Landry In planning this story, we originally set out to pair young musicians with seasoned veterans and see what kind of school would be in session as a result. But what happened instead was vastly more interesting: organic dialogue stemming from a common love. What follows are three interviews with six musicians penned by three writers. The questions for each were different, as were the settings and interview styles. But the messages overlap, intertwine and paint a bigger picture of what it takes to live one’s passion. From creative process to overcoming jadedness to living with your choices, these six musicians laid it all out. Very special thanks to the Wisconsin Conservatory of Music for opening their doors for the photo shoots for this story. You’ll find more incredible images in our gallery at vitalsourcemag.com. —Jon Anne Willow Peder Hedman and Jason Mohr By Blaine Schultz + Photo by Erin Landry It is a too-warm September evening in Jason Mohr’s backyard, but nobody’s complaining. Bug spray and citronella candles help, but this year’s crop of mosquitoes arrived late and hungry. In a far-ranging conversation that spans Mohr’s thoughts on how a songwriter may be unconsciously predicting his own future to Hedman’s take on what it means to keep a band together when domestic realities come to the fore, it was never really obvious that two decades separate this pair of Milwaukee musicians. A common point of reference for both guitar mavens is the Maestro Echoplex, a vintage analog tape echo unit. Hedman brought to the interview a Stylophone, a gizmo he picked up at Value Village. The crude, handheld synthesizer may be best known as the instrument that plays the solo on David Bowie’s “Space Oddity.” The Peder Hedman Quartet is in the final stages of self-releasing Don’t Fall Down; Mohr’s group, Juniper Tar, is nearly ready as well with the provisionally-titled Free Bird. Both bands begin with interesting songs and then subtly warp them to their own needs. And make no mistake, the musicians who collaborate with Hedman and Mohr are as talented and beyond ordinary as you will find. “Take a look at this, the first press I ever got,” Hedman says, setting an age-yellowed copy of the Crazy Shepard on the table. The 1982 article profiles the Null Heirs, accompanied by a grainy black and white photo. Since then, bassist Mike Frederickson went on to form The Moseleys and play bass with Robbie Fulks; keyboardist John Duncan played with Gear Daddy Martin Zellar (and Tiny Tim); Kent Mueller ran the late KM Art. Hedman played in Liquid Pink, then Tweaker, which landed him down south for years. It’s a sharp contrast to Mohr’s less than a decade of band experience, highlighted by an EP with his previous group, Telectro. “If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it … well, I’m making my mark,” Hedman says of his […]
Oct 1st, 2007 by Jon Anne Willow
Know Your DJ
DJ ROCK DEE AGE: 39 SIGN: Leo DAY JOB: Brookfield Guitar Center; Air personality, 88.9 Radio Milwaukee; DJ for Mob Candy Magazine & True Baller Clothing STYLE: Hip-hop, house, old-school funk, disco, salsa, reggae RESIDENCIES: Alverno College, Zen Den, Radio Milwaukee, Walkers Pint, Three, Summerfest BEST NIGHT EVER: Summerfest 2002. I had produced the Diskotech DJ stage. I had all the greats that year! One night I had Biz Markie headlining … I was blessed to experience the sports area packed … over 3,000 strong, with everyone singing “Just a Friend” right along with Biz Markie. WORST NIGHT EVER: God bless, none yet! ON THE NO-PLAY LIST: Honestly, nothing really comes to mind. If it’s good music, I will play it, no matter what the genre. STATE OF THE SCENE: My professor Tracy Stockwell reminds me all the time what a great city Milwaukee is … the art galleries, the economic development, the nightlife. DJs can actually work and make a living here … that is the bomb to me! Some say we’re still behind the times – and maybe we are a little – though we as a city are setting our own times, not basing our time on anyone else’s. IN THE BEGINNING: I was breakdancing at Skate University when all of a sudden these dudes make an entrance with equipment that never seemed to stop coming. Next thing I knew, there was this guy named Dr. B mixing records … cutting, scratching, backspinning, mixing this with that and rapping on the mic … I knew from that point on that was what I was going to do for the rest of my life. That was 1982 and now it’s 2007 … you do the math! FLAV-OR-ICE FLAVOR: Green. KID CUT UP AGE: 25 SIGN: Caution: Curve Ahead DAY JOB: Being a DJ is a full time job. GEAR: Tech 12’s, Vinyl, Serato, Rane 56, Shure SM58 STYLE: Well-rounded DJing. Hand skills AND party rockin’. Commercial AND underground. New AND old school. RESIDENCIES: No Request Fridays @ Redlight above Tocadero w/ Why B; Flirt Thursdays @ Hi Hat Garage w/ Steve Marxx; Hiphop Tuesdays @ the Uptowner w/ DJ Musko BEST NIGHT EVER: Any night people are down to let loose and have a good time. WORST NIGHT EVER: Weddings CURRENTLY PLAYING: New album from Milwaukee’s Element ON THE NO-PLAY LIST: Requests STATE OF THE SCENE: Potential-filled FLAV-OR-ICE FLAVOR: Orange. Slightly melted. DJ NU-STYLEZ AGE: 27 SIGN: Libra DAY JOB: DJ, mix tape producer, music producer STYLE: Hip-hop, crowd rocking, ghetto house … you name it, I can get it done. RESIDENCIES: Texture; Digital Underground tour DJ BEST NIGHT EVER: Sydney, Australia… rocking 10,000 people down under… unbelievable. WORST NIGHT EVER: Reno, Nevada. The sound man was drunk and left the board and somehow turned off the monitors, so there was no sound on stage! CURRENTLY PLAYING: My remixes and whatever makes me and the people on the dance floor feel good! STATE OF THE SCENE: It’s on […]
Oct 1st, 2007 by Matt Wild
The Cocksmiths
I was busy looking for a shiny, elegant yacht to land upon my shore. Instead, what sailed in was this beat-up, high-octane, dirty old barge with a rowdy party spilling out of it – the kind you’d call the Coast Guard on. The new Cocksmiths CD Trouble Pill is Milwaukee-brewed rock ‘n’ roll, with emphasis on the rock. It’s the product of a true live band taking their set into the studio, banging out 13 songs in two days. You can practically hear the beer bottles hitting each other in the background. The slowest, most melodic and contemplative song on this set is titled “Bar Room”—’nuff said. Even Matty Gonzalez’s voice is whiskey-drenched throughout, telling you he got the party started before playing the first lick. Gonzalez also pulls guitar duty with Ryan Daniels and Paris Ortiz, with bassist Joey Carini and drummer Dave Schoepke driving it home. Almost everybody sings, in true barroom democracy fashion. The ‘Smiths (sorry, I just can’t abbreviate to The Cocks) expertly dovetail both the sound and the production with the songwriting: no frills. Having knocked around town in various configurations for over ten years and played together going on five, these guys certainly know a good live hook and riff. And while nothing here is creatively original, the guitar solos (and there are good amount of them) and vocals are delivered with razor-sharp skill, and most importantly, honesty. These guys mean it. The Cocksmiths can loosely be joined to the current hard-rock renaissance. Buckcherry, Velvet Revolver, even emo bands from the early part of the decade have “matured” into aggressive, cocked-locked-and-ready-to-rockers who want the top down and the pedal to the floor. The Cocksmiths easily keep pace with all of them. Put this sucker in your car on the way to drunksville, and look me up when you arrive.
Oct 1st, 2007 by Troy Butero
Dan Kaufman/Barbez
There’s something undeniably mysterious about the sounds coming from Dan Kaufman/Barbez’s album Force of Light. Developed over the span of three years, Force of Light is a requiem to Holocaust survivor and poet Paul Celan. Scattered throughout the album are lines from Celan’s poetic discourse read by Fiona Templeton, a theatre director and renowned Scottish poet in her own right. Paul Celan remains one of the major poets of the post-World War II era. The death of his parents and his experience with the Holocaust are two central themes in his works. After receiving word of his parents tragic death in the camps, Paul writes, “And can you bear, Mother, as once on a time,/the gentle, the German, the pain-laden rhyme?” Just as his poetry is rich with feeling, Kaufman/Barbez’s works on Force of Light are on par with Celan’s devices. The opening track begins with a slow finger-picked chord progression on a nylon stringed guitar — dark and captivating, the climate catapults the listener into the realm of introspection. The music is accompanied by Fiona’s eloquent reading of Celan’s poem Shibboleth: “Together with my stones/grown big with weeping/behind the bars/they dragged me out into the market/that place/where the flag unfurls to which/I swore no kind of allegiance.” As the words of the poem take shape, chimed instruments are thrown into the mix, creating an overall eerie air. The track draws visions of shadowed figures in pantomime. Kaufman spent years working on this album, including a month in Berlin in solitude beneath images of the Holocaust. The result is an album that not only covers a wide musical terrain, but touches a collective human quality. From clarinets to theremin, to marimbas and violin, Force of Light is a lush auditory feast. The arrangement of sounds, along with Fiona’s reading of Celan’s poetry, is a perfect mesh that keeps the listener in limbo and often teetering on feelings of hopelessness and despair.
Oct 1st, 2007 by Blaine Schultz
Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings
They spend all of their free time lending their considerable talents to other people’s work, which makes one wonder how Sharon Jones and her backing band, the Dap-Kings, have had any time for themselves. Jones recently worked with Rufus Wainwright; the Dap-Kings can be heard tearing up pop radio as the backing band on Amy Winehouse’s smash “Rehab.” Yet along comes 100 Days, 100 Nights, their third release, on their own Daptone imprint. Expending all that energy on other projects hasn’t diminished the drive to create on their own; 100 Days sizzles with the classic Motown soul of Aretha and Stevie. While the Dap-Kings’ work on Winehouse’s Back to Black carries a distinctly pop sheen, 100 Days takes wood stripper to that glossy finish, leaving behind raw trumpets, gritty rhythms and the classic two-beat guitar stabs from Motor City faves like one-time Kings’ cover “Uptight (Everything’s Alright).” The lazily upbeat “Tell Me” comes closest to what would have been considered a pop hit in the days of Martha and the Vandellas, but that’s not to say that the midtempo groove that dominates the album won’t get asses on the floor. Of course, the real star here is Jones and her bluesy, ballsy alto, which wails away on tracks like the reproachful “When the Other Foot Drops, Uncle.” Maybe she isn’t likely to become the household name that Winehouse and Lily Allen are on their way to becoming. But since Jones and her band are bringing home plenty of green via their extracurriculars, Amy and Lily are welcome to their celebrity; just occasionally leave this crew to their own devices, and if they keep turning out records like 100 Days, 100 Nights, everyone wins.
Oct 1st, 2007 by DJ Hostettler
The Milwaukee Music Scene(tm), part deux
Rejected titles for this month’s column: God, I hate The Gufs; God, I hate Chicago; Are you there God? It’s me, Milwaukee. After more than a decade as an on-again, off-again bit player in the Milwaukee Music Scene (MMS), I’m no closer to cracking its modest secrets than I was on day one. At times, our little city seems on the verge of something great, something bold and original; other times, it seems like a distant cousin’s wedding dance that simply refuses to end (no matter how many times “We Are Family” and “Baby Got Back” are played). In MMS columns of the past, I’ve written: “Maybe it’s that the MMS is like a cruel mistress, or maybe more like a jilted lover, or maybe more like a wacky TV next-door neighbor you just can’t get rid of. Any way you dice it, this is the time, city and scene we’ve all been given, so let’s focus on the good and avoid the bad.”Indeed, perhaps the best summation I can give our local indie/rock/noise/cow-punk/Gregorian-chant scene is that it’s schizophrenic at best, and simply catatonic at worst. Nevertheless, it’s the one we’re stuck with, and one thankfully rife with just enough left-field, life-affirming moments to keep us all plugging along without putting guns to our heads. But before we dive deeper into that barrel of monkeys, let me say this: at least we’re not Chicago. The oft-mentioned inferiority complex we harbor for our Illinois neighbor has always puzzled me, as if criminally overpriced drinks, non-smoking venues and Billy Corgan are things worth aspiring to. During a trip to Roger Ebert’s stomping grounds last month, for example, I was faced with fifteen-dollar rum and cokes, twelve-dollar cover charges, and a smokeless, soulless venue that resembled a horrific cross between The Rave, Cush and a slightly upscale Hardees. For all its hype, the Windy City has always struck me as nothing more than a typical midwestern dump with a hugely inflated ego. Put simply (and to crib a line from The Adventures of Pete and Pete): Chicago can bite my scab. But anyway, back to the homefront. Nothing better illustrates Milwaukee’s strange, musical split-personality than a recent evening that featured both the unbelievably good times provided by the monthly Get Down, and the unspeakable horrors of The Gufs playing a free outdoor show a block from my apartment. Both events are fine examples of their respective ends of the MMS spectrum, with unbridled joy brought on by an incredible selection of music on one side, and unchecked nausea brought on by maudlin lyrics and poor fashion sense on the other. Following some sort of urban-playground/soccer/skateboard/BMX/let’s-do-this-before-Downer-Avenue-turns-into-a-goddamned-parking-garage block party, The Gufs set up shop and begin to do their thing, much to the delight of the sea of inebriated 18-year olds flooding the street. You may remember The Gufs as one of the slew of one-hit 90’s bands with a skin-crawlingly treacle-laced song about “crashing into me.” Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure they’re all […]
Oct 1st, 2007 by Matt Wild
The Saltshakers
Local four-piece outfit The Saltshakers unload some serious crunch on their new album, Up All Night. It’s catchy, poppy, laced with power-riffs and may indeed keep you Up All Night. The opening track, “Believe,” is your standard pop-rock catch tune that will get a foot shakin’ and a head bobbin’, starting with just a single guitar power-chord progression—momentous though not overly driven — then laced with the accompanying rim shots and tambourine. Lead singer Chad Curtis has plenty of room to wail on top of the back-up vocals and furious chomp roaring from the amps. “Whiskeytown,” a tribute to Ryan Adams, has an alt-country vibe to it, with a really great, semi call-and-response hook: “I said ‘hey, you, what do you say?’ I think your fine-ass self should step my way and we’ll walk hand-in-hand all the way to whiskeytown.” The second verse is stripped down a bit, with less emphasis on the guitar, and more on the beat — what sounds like hands clapping. It’s fun, interactive and catchy. The rest of the album showcases the band’s musical range. “Happy Now?” has a heavier beat with a more progressive-rock feel and metal guitar lead riffs. But The Saltshakers always come back to their power-pop roots. Up All Night, though playing on several genres, stands on its own and is chock-full of raw guitar energy.
Oct 1st, 2007 by Blaine Schultz
The Doo-Wop Box
I spent my teen years in Kansas City during the ’50s, and like other suburban girls of my era, gloried in wearing Mamie bangs and pony tails, Poodle skirts and saddle oxfords. A few years ago I bought a pair of those famous black and white shoes with pink rubber soles, copies of the originals which are still being churned out in California. Hey nonny ding-dong. Thank heavens, some things never change. Doo-wop. Do you remember doo-wop, the music of the 50s and 60s, rooted in the urban streets and hearts and souls of black Americans? When The Chords, five black guys, cut “Sh-Boom” in the spring of 1954, I was a senior in high school. My best friend introduced me to the sound, a sound so black that the beat stuck in my head and feet for years. To my lily-white ears it had a dangerous edge that signaled freedom and something other than the privileged “Pleasantville” suburbia of my teen years. It was sexy and sweet and heartbreaking. Filled with tears, moons and stars, it addressed the yearnings of most teenagers, but come to think of it, didn’t actually guarantee any answers to our prayers. In many ways, doo-wop resembled a stone-hearted God that we worshipped on a daily basis. Today I’m sitting in my office writing and listening to The Doo-Wop Box, 101 vocal group tunes compiled in 1993 by Rhino. The four CDs cover the years from 1948 to the doo-wop revival era stretching from 1959-1987. Included is a smart book stuffed with black and white photographs, historical information, and a list of 33 “nonsense” syllables, used to replace traditional instrumentation. Can you identify #17: doo wop, doo wadda, or #31: wah wah, shoop shoop? Along the way, I noticed that many of the vocal groups from the early years were named after birds … The Orioles, The Ravens, The Flamingos, The Wrens, The Penguins. But there were also groups named: The Nutmegs, The Jewels, and The Valentines. These folks did not lack for imagination. In 1956, I floated off to a college dance, in a strapless turquoise tulle gown and huge rhinestone earrings, my hair sheared off in a “Duck’s Ass.” It was a daring haircut, but my date, an uptight dental student intent on fixing tooth decay, never asked me out again, even though we sipped rum and Cokes and danced to “In The Still Of The Nite.” The Five Satins recorded the tune in a basement, and the book in my Doo-Wop Box informs me that despite the hollow sounds, it was one of the two most popular oldies of all times. The other was The Penguins, “Earth Angel.” Their name came from the icon on the Kools cigarettes pack. Earth Angel, earth angel, won’t you be mine? Tonite. Tonite, may never reach an end. Long Lonely Nights by Lee Andrews & The Hearts set my heart on fire. It still does. So, what’s an old lady like me doing listening to doo-wop, […]
Oct 1st, 2007 by Judith Ann Moriarty
The Big Dig
“It swings between passion and obsession, constantly. It’s definitely at the point where I’m like, ‘do I want to buy groceries this week, or do I want to go digging in Indianapolis?’” Aaron Soma spends 12 to 16 hours a week, on average, digging for vinyl. At least once a month, he leaves the state to rummage through basements and backrooms for dusty jewels of sound. He calls it the “great nerd odyssey” – and he’s not being flip, despite the shadow of cool that has settled on record culture in recent years. Aaron can describe what he’s into – Northern soul, forgotten originals of ‘80s pop songs – but it’s hard to put a finger on what he’s really searching for. So in consideration of the question, he made a list, went to some record shops, and thought about it for a while. Here are four things he managed to sort out. 1. Covers, or forgotten originals of songs that were covered and became hits Aaron’s first digs were through his parent’s formidable collection of records. “I picked up Beatles albums,” he says, “wondering, looking at the records, noticing that the song wasn’t written by John Lennon or Paul McCartney, but some American R&B artist somewhere.” “That’s the really exciting thing about collecting,” says Andy Noble, co-owner of LotusLand Records. “You’re always following a path, and you’re probably following multiple paths.” “It could take you back to the beginning of recorded time – or to Africa, or to Brazil – just by following the sound, the producer, the people who were thanked in the liner notes, weird stuff like that. It’s an exploration.” Aaron is always learning; every dig is a research project. “I’ll bring a battery-powered portable record player with me to a shop and just dig through, set stuff aside. That’s how I teach myself what’s going on. I hardly ever know what I’m looking for when I go out: it’s really a dive into the unknown.” 2. Midwestern music Aaron’s serious collecting started with ‘60s psychedelic rock, especially local acts – Michael and the Messengers, The Illusion, The Legends. For the past two or three years, he’s been collecting mainly funk and soul music, and still turns up a lot of local material. “Because I dig regionally, I tend to come up with a decent amount of stuff that was actually happening here – Harvey Scales and the Seven Sounds, The Esquires.” On a sunny late-summer afternoon, Aaron drives me out to an empty storefront on North Avenue. Audie’s Records has been closed since the late ‘80s, and judging from the steamrollers parked next door, it might not be standing for much longer. It used to be a major distribution hub for hip hop, soul and funk in the Midwest. “A lot of that stuff is still here. In bigger Midwest cities – St. Louis, Detroit, Minneapolis – a lot of the shops get really picked through.” Still, good finds don’t come easy – especially with […]
Oct 1st, 2007 by Amy Elliott
Charles Mingus
*Cornell 1964 was released in July, but we think it’s worth a listen — and Blaine is here to tell you why. Maybe it is no surprise that a spirit as indomitable as Charles Mingus survives 28 years after ALS shuffled his body off this mortal coil. The bassist/bandleader/writer’s legacy has grown in no small part due to efforts by his wife (and former Milwaukeean) Sue Mingus. Her discovery of this recording, much like recently unearthed live sets by John Coltrane and Thelonious Monk, serves as another chance to pull the image in the rear view mirror up close and marvel at the music created by this great band. With three tunes clocking at over fifteen minutes and another pair sprawling into the half-hour range it becomes obvious these musicians are seriously at work. There is no endless noodling, only tight full-band sections, spotlight solos and some great improvising. Clifford Jordan and Eric Dolphy’s horn playing throughout the two discs sounds like a conversation – squeezing out sparks as the ideas ebb and flow. Mingus once wrote a letter to Downbeat Magazine decrying the free jazzers’ new definitions of musicality, but Dolphy and Jordan’s playing makes use of all the bases within Mingus’s nearly Baroque themes and folk-forms with solos just on the edge of squawking and crying, all held down by the ESP rhythm section of Mingus’s bass and longtime campadre Dannie Richmond’s drumming. Cornell’s version of Mingus’s “Fables of Faubus” would be a great place for any new listener to dive in and the group’s arrangement of Duke Ellington/Billy Strayhorn’s “Take the “A” Train” offers a look at Mingus’s fearlessness and reverence in dealing with a mentor. It is obvious just how much joy these musicians have with these tunes. Shortly after this gig the band toured Europe; Dolphy died at age 36 due to complications from diabetes. As a frozen moment, this recording is more than document. It is a new highlight in the Mingus discography.
Sep 24th, 2007 by Blaine Schultz
Carolyn Mark
Victoria, B.C.’s most acclaimed Party Girl, Terrible Hostess and less lime-lighted half of the Corn Sisters, Carolyn Mark has removed the training wheels of collaboration (her last release was strictly duets) and is again riding solo. Nothing Is Free, whose liner notes devote the disc to “all the Cowboys, Vampires, Pirates, Poets, Scarecrows and Enablers,” is a reflection of the Can-country minx’s adorably kooky “Point o’ View.” In Mark’s universe, hopes are kept “where we can see ‘em,” those without investments can justify spending “thousands of dollars/keeping Friday alive” and aver that “it’s easier to love an idea/than it is a man.” Equally endearing are Mark’s auctioneer vocals on “1 Thing” and “Get Along,” tracks that could easily be caroused to under a state fair beer tent. Not to be pigeonholed to a do-se-do, Mark’s sound flutters from sunny surf rock (“Happy 2B Flying Away” ) to spacey daydream (“Destination: You” ) , pollinated by her husky Natalie Merchant purr and lyrics that pack a Loretta Lynn punch. “Poisoned With Hope” is uncharacteristically bulky and grating, but pardonable given Mark’s unmatched whimsy and otherwise fluid execution. Folksy, nobody’s-fool showstopper “The 1 That Got Away (With It ) ” will most likely earn the attention of femme rags like Venus and Bust, but until she flags down a more mainstream demographic, Mark will continue her notoriety as “the other Corn Sister.” If her liner tribute to the freaks and underdogs is any indication, though, she won’t be shooting off flares any time soon.
Sep 1st, 2007 by Amber Herzog
