Classical
Bruce Springsteen
Bruce Springsteen’s career has been truly beyond reproach. Even those who aren’t fans have to acquiesce to the fact that he’s the definition of integrity in a business that thrives on the opposite. And while his popularity may have waned in the nineties, he still created provocative music that meant something both to him and to his audience. This is evidenced by recent releases from a number of young artists mining his sound and his aesthetic. Ah, but they could never be the real thing. And here in his 24th year of recording, Bruce produces yet another finely-crafted testament to his “Boss” title. Magic contains the most direct and immediate collection of rock music Bruce has put out since Born in the U.S.A. in 1984. The saxophone, the piano and the rest of the E Street Band are back in full regalia on songs like “Livin’ In The Future” and “I’ll Work For Your Love.” The driving rhythms, melodies and narratives are also back, particularly on “Last to Die.” But Bruce doesn’t stop there: on the title track he displays the entire spectrum of his talents as a creator. “Girls In Their Summer Clothes” is as innocent as it is wistful. And though it may turn some people off, there are also a number of songs that touch upon his acoustic, rootsy leanings, sparse and epic. Bruce makes albums that are the equivalent of audio novels. They tell stories, weave descriptions, paint landscapes and define characters. But he also always gives us a little prize wrapped in the theme of it all: the emotional resource that compels us to be the authors of our own existence. “Love (and attitude) is a power greater (and stronger) than death” he sings in his tribute to a deceased friend on the hidden track 12, “Terry’s Song.” Yep, that’s the magic.
Nov 1st, 2007 by Troy Butero
Citay
The average person does not listen to instrument-led rock music. At most, it’s used as background noise while cleaning, studying, or even sleeping – earning a position not much higher than a Sharper Image sound machine. Without prominent vocals, it’s easy for most to lose interest. Unless, like the not so itty-bitty eight-piece Citay committee, there is a generous amount of aggressive ‘70s guitar to demand attention. The noise comes when least expected, as during the unassuming Elliott Smith-like “On the Wings.”Since the disc’s undertones are mellow, these interjected rock-god moments are startling. Also surprising – and out-of-era – is the Metallica-meddling on “Former Child” which, thankfully, bows out a minute or so into the almost eight-minute track. Now, eight minutes may seem drawn out, but Little Kingdom is never difficult to connect with, even at its most noisy, lyrically free and instrumentally hefty. Not quite as kitchen-sink as today’s symphonic indie bands with as many members, Citay’s wackiest accessory is the mandolin. In addition, songwriter Ezra Feinberg plays nine instruments and provides tender vocals in select songs like the whimsical “First Fantasy.”Not only does he rival Sufjan Stevens in gratuitous musicianship, but also channels Sufjan’s minimalist, folksy vibe throughout “Moonburn,” the album’s closer – beneath the hell-raising retro guitar shredding, of course. If your Led Zepplin III or Pink Floyd Animals vinyl is wearing thin, Little Kingdom is an ideal segue into the current century. Apologies if it’s only released on CD.
Nov 1st, 2007 by Amber Herzog
James Luther Dickinson
As producer and musician, Jim Dickinson has had a hand in masterpieces by Aretha Franklin, The Rolling Stones, The Flamin’ Groovies, Big Star/Alex Chilton, Ry Cooder, The Replacements and Bob Dylan – not to mention raising his sons, The North Mississippi All Stars. As a solo artist, Dickinson released his debut in 1972 (the classic Dixie Fried) and waited thirty years before following it up. Reminds me of a joke my grandpa used to tell about “a long time between drinks.” Dickinson has picked up the pace significantly since; Killers From Space is his third album since 2002. His choice in material and the very way he inhabits a tune go a long way to defining that particularly indefinable brand of Memphis strange. Ranging from Tin Pan Alley to blues to gospel to all-out rockers, Dickinson’s weathered vocals put the listener front-row-center to characters that may be down and out, but have more soul than they can handle. “I Need You” reveals menace that in lesser hands would be camp. Here its wheezy harmonica and piano interplay suggests the last gasp of Jay Hawkins at St. James Infirmary. Dickinson is a national treasure; he should be on a postage stamp.
Nov 1st, 2007 by Blaine Schultz
Element Everest
By Kenya Evans Life is a Heist tells the spiraling stories of the hood rich just trying to get by and delivers a verbal vengeance signed and sealed by Ms. Everest personally. The first and only lady of local hip hop group Black Elephant – 2006 WAMI runners-up for best unsigned artist – Element Everest (yes, her real name) is debuting her first solo album. She’s no stranger to MCing, writing rhymes and shutting down naysayers who criticize or question her authority as a female rap artist. Gritty and unapologetic, Life is a Heist booms with 808s, snares and brassy beats against Element’s smoky voice. The up-tempo “Intro” has the layered instrumentals of a marching band, dramatic and charged with musical action. “Good Girls,” the first single, which premiered on local radio station V100, is a sexy and sassy boy-meets-girl love song that’s mellow and made to groove to. Element upholds what Black Elephant does best – telling tales of the city, from grinding streets to head-bobbing beats – but brings a bit more soul to her own songs. Element sings a cappella on “The Wire,” reminiscent of an old Negro spiritual, channeling the stark realities of modern-day urban strife and the continuous struggle of black life: that there’s no difference between slaving in the fields to becoming slaves of the mind and products of an impoverished environment. “Katrina,” a duet with local guitarist/singer/songwriter Evan Christian, speaks for the dismal and discriminated New Orleans natives who were victims of a natural disaster and their own government. Overall, it’s rich and hard-hitting, both lyrically and musically: Element doesn’t play nice. Get ready to take a bite out of some ghetto melodies that bite back.
Oct 4th, 2007 by Vital Archives
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
The Music Issue
Here at VITAL, we love music, and we figure it’s a pretty fair bet that you love music, too. Every year we showcase everything that thrills us about the wide world of melody and harmony, rhythm and tempo, sound and silence, and this year it’s even more close to our hearts — it’s 100% homegrown. We talked to Milwaukee folk singers, Milwaukee hip-hop artists, Milwaukee legends, Milwaukee upstarts, and one remarkable Milwaukee rock photographer. We talked to five Milwaukee DJs about their best and worst nights and we talked to Milwaukee record collectors about the history of recorded music. We even visited the Wisconsin Conservatory of Music for a photo shoot. And our record reviews were local — we reviewed new releases by The Cocksmiths, The Saltshakers, Testa Rosa and Element Everest. It happened rather by accident, but what emerged from all of this was a sketch of an often misunderstood — and underestimated — music scene. Milwaukee is home to a vibrant, striving and passionate community of music lovers, makers and sharers. A lot of it happens under the surface, but it’s there, pulsing and singing and getting people up on their feet. But it’s there. And it’s here in our pages, and on our website. We hope you like it.
Oct 1st, 2007 by Vital Archives
Tone deaf and loving it!
When I was just a little girl, my grandmother used to say to me, “Lucky, honey, you can’t carry a tune in a bucket.” She said it often, because in spite of the fact that I didn’t sing well, I did sing a lot. And I sang as loud as I could. I have always loved singing. I participated in chorus in junior high and high school in the hopes that, with some training, I would become at least a passable singer. It never happened. I always thought I was tone deaf, but have recently discovered that the scientific term for my musical deficiency is pitch deafness. It’s sad but true, I’ll probably never be a good singer. Equally sad for the people who have to ride in the car with me is the fact that I still love to sing – very loudly. This trait is one that I have passed on generously to all three of my kids. Just as we share a love for singing at the top of our lungs, not one of us can, as Granny Betty used to say, carry a tune in a bucket. We sing loud and proud. And badly. According to that most reliable of internet sources, Wikipedia, “The inability [to discriminate between musical notes] is most often caused by lack of musical training or education and not actual tone deafness.” I’m not convinced this is true after my years of dedication to public school chorus and my girls’ years spent in the church choir. That training did manage to make us into pretty good mimics. We can copy music we hear repeatedly fairly reliably as long the music is playing, and that’s good enough for us. Early and often! When the kids were very young, I hoped that starting them earlier in structured music lessons would allow them to overcome this fine family quality. My girls started singing in our church’s children’s choir at six years old, and their little brother went with them faithfully to every rehearsal for the love of singing. Despite their obvious enthusiasm, it didn’t seem to improve their skills much. Since they come from a family of music lovers, my kids have wanted to learn about other forms of musical expression as well. Both girls took ballet and jazz dance lessons. Lena studied violin for two years and Emma starts with it this fall. Jeffrey is teaching himself how to break dance, and is pretty dedicated to becoming good at it. Last year, Lena took World Music in her first year of middle school and was exposed to marimbas, maracas, bongos, tambourines and many other instruments. Lovin’ it all Through all of the lessons and classes, my children have remained absolutely enthralled with music of all sorts. From bluegrass to rock, from classic country to hip-hop, they can sing along to the words without missing a single beat. They recognize instruments they hear, and fairly reliably identify music by country of origin. All three of […]
Oct 1st, 2007 by Lucky Tomaszek
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
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
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
