Classical
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
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
Ani DiFranco
By Allison Berndt Ani DiFranco is a true entertainer. Whether it’s in her racy, controversial lyrics, her man-handling of the guitar, her feminist and political ideals or even her own radical personal style, she’s certainly a woman who’s paved the way for female activist artists. Canon, DiFranco’s 17th studio album, is a two-disc compilation of the most memorable songs from her 17-year career. Included are such classics as “32 Flavors,” “Fire Door,” “Little Plastic Castle” and “78%H2O.” As an added bonus, five previously released tracks have been re-recorded for this release. The new recording of “Shameless” is most definitely worth a listen – it zones in on DiFranco’s intense guitar picking and rhythmic diversions. “Both Hands” is more percussive with a slight hint of island sound in this latest recording. “Your Next Bold Move” is revamped in a very slow, very dramatic, very beautiful way (if one can really sound beautiful when railing on politics), the lyrics a quintessential example of what defines DiFranco’s songwriting style – insightful and provocative words with a folk-guitar soundtrack. Canon is an album anyone who’s ever been interested in Ani DiFranco should own. It’s a sampling of her best work, a little bit of everything she’s done since 1990. Fast, slow, controversial, tame, it’s all entertaining and it’s all Ani.
Sep 1st, 2007 by Vital Archives
“Music’s golden tongue Flatter’d to tears this aged man and poor”
By Barry Wightman If the tongue is a muscle of love, a notorious logo of leering lascivious brown-sugared rock & roll, the taste it produces in our mouths, the perception of flavor, is simultaneously a deeply personal perception of quality, an aesthetic discernment, a judgement we use to assign value in art, literature and music. Like a snake’s tongue testing the dry desert air, a tiny flickering antenna on some strange, primitive wavelength, each of us unfurls an antenna of taste, unique to ourselves, difficult to explain but critical to the art of being human. Extend your antenna, and taste new flavors. Like a bite of breakfast at Tiffany’s, Mancini at the Movies, a sumptuous spread of classics by Henry Mancini performed by his Grammy-nominated daughter Monica Mancini comes to the Wilson Center’s Kuttemperoor Auditorium this month. Mary Wilson, one of the original Supremes, brings her tasty, glittery Motown licks to Wisconsin Lutheran College in October. Taste the bittersweet of War and Remembrance: Music in the ‘40s, the still strong, fervent melodic flavors of Benjamin Britten and Ralph Vaughn Williams performed by the Waukesha Symphony Orchestra have aged well. From two or three dusty menus from old but familiar countries, the krazy klezmer kosher kings of souped-up Yiddish music, The Klezmatics, come to Alverno’s Pitman Theatre in December and stir Woody Guthrie’s corn-fed lyrics with matzoh and Manishevitz and come up with a blintz of Hanukkah cheer. Sugary and toothsome as a favorite Christmas cookie, the Milwaukee Symphony Pops can’t miss with its traditional Holiday Show at the Marcus Center. The Bel Canto Chorus sings Latin American holiday music by Ariel Ramirez at the Hamilton Fine Arts Center and Basilica of St. Josaphat. Then in the depths of winter, savor the classic kitchen table American fare of the imposing bluegrass artist Ricky Skaggs and Kentucky Thunder at the Schauer Center and Randy Newman, composer, performer and humorist at the Marcus Center in March. His voice is like a gumbo from Lake Charles, Louisiana by way of Southern California, a Tabasco’d taste of America.
Sep 1st, 2007 by Vital Archives
17 Hippies and Dobert Gnahore
By Blaine Schultz Dobert Gnahore Na Afriki Cumbancha There is a pulsating sense of energy just beneath the surface of Dobert Gnahore’s music. Her fluid vocals are gently propelled by musicians led by acoustic guitarist Colin Laroche de Feline. With roots in Africa’s Ivory Coast, it is no surprise that the English translations for Gnahore’s songs tackle some heavy issues – dipping into gender politics, economics and war. A percolating battery of percussionists and vocalists adds up to some intriguing music with a message in any language. Appearing Sunday 5:30 p.m. Global Union festival at Humboldt Park 17 Hippies Heimlich Hipster Records The title cut of 17 Hippies Heimlich “tells what happens when a strong feeling should be kept a secret, so as to keep that feeling alive and strong; whereas blaring it out would destroy it.” But there is nothing secretive about this tribe. While many kids went techno when the Berlin Wall fell these folks went the other route picking up ukulele, dulcimer, violins, accordion and various horns to form this moveable feast. Alternately rollicking and melancholy, they pick and choose influences from Morocco, Romania, France and Germany. This rag-tag bunch is hard to peg unless Cajun-Balkan-Indian is a new genre. One of the members even dated the Velvet Underground’s Nico. Appearing Saturday 1 p.m. Global Union festival at Humboldt Park
Sep 1st, 2007 by Vital Archives
Ministry
Al Jourgenson isn’t about to be considered a politically-charged wordsmith on par with Bob Dylan. Still, this hasn’t stopped him from developing an antipathetic and personal relationship with Bush, Cheney and the Holy War on Terror. Starting with 2004’s Houses of the Mole, followed by 2006’s Rio Grande Blood, the Unholy Trinity concludes with The Last Sucker, a venom-drenched and decidedly non-poetic screed against the Decider and his entourage. Anyone who remembers Ministry’s brutal indictment of Bush Sr., Psalm 69’s “N.W.O.,” is as familiar with The Last Sucker’s formula as is needed. Song after song delivers the same jackhammer drum programming and machine-gun riffage that Ministry’s produced for years, delivered with pit-bull vocals and samples of government icons hypnotically chanting sound-bite mantras. Al doesn’t mince words – lyrics like “I got twins and a Stepford wife/I never had to work a day in my life” don’t leave room for interpretation. But where the Ministry of the Bush 41 era sounded fresh in its rage, the Bush 43 edition has gone stale. The repetitive, stock 16-note chug hammers the brain into a numb paste, perhaps so the listener understands how Jourgenson’s head felt after poring through hours and hours of Bush/Cheney sound bites. Maybe then we won’t notice how cliché it is to name a song about the Veep “The Dick Song,” to say nothing about spending six minutes coming up with new ways to say “Dick Cheney/Son of Satan.” The Last Sucker is Ministry’s final recording, allowing Jourgenson to ride off into the sunset along with lame duck Dubya. Judging by the content of this release (including a baffling cover of the Doors’ “Roadhouse Blues” ), it’s possible that, like Bush the Second, his exit is about eight years too late.
Sep 1st, 2007 by DJ Hostettler
Heavy Trash
In Heavy Trash’s latest adventure (which picks up from their last release in 2005), there’s more riff-burning, pompadour-bobbing and gum-smacking than you can shake a fried chicken leg at. Bringing back the days of curvy cars, pinup ladies and smoking without borders, Jon Spencer (Blues Explosion) and Matt Verta-Ray’s (Pussy Galore) “Heavy Trash” moniker is definitely cheeky. Think Chris Isaak gone bad – pretty, blue-eyed boy soul with a sharp, ugly edge. Heavy Trash’s self-titled debut was a welcome addition to Jon Spencer fanatics’ collections. Going Way Out With Heavy Trash stacks up to their first release and even delves into a more fleshed-out, swinging sound. Rolling into the first track, “Pure Gold” hits like a cyclone in Tornado Alley, Spencer channeling Presley more convincingly than many white-caped King wannabes. Strutting like a rooster through a dusty coop of hens, Spencer lolls into the pretty garage n’soul of “Outside Chance,” then greases it up in “Double Line,” pairing up gritty guitar solos, sticks tapping short, short, short as if on a hot tin roof, along with brass-balls bass lines whose rough and ready tones are reminiscent of the infamous relationship between The Sharks and The Jets in West Side Story. Going Way Out With Heavy Trash is a hot little album, full of swagger and strut. The only truly campy departure is “You Can’t Win,” which thankfully comes at the album’s close, with Spencer drawling about “Pepsi-Cola, Doritos and beans” and being “drunk on pomade.” This doesn’t play nicely with the rest of the album. Still, Heavy Trash has turned out another call to all rebel rousers, one which will satiate those with a hankering for some straight-up rockabilly flavor.
Sep 1st, 2007 by Erin Wolf
