When I was about 12 or 13, the video Natural One by Folk Implosion hit MTV, and my friends and I all lost our collective shit(s). I remember a buddy of mine immediately picked up the single (yes, there were singles then), and we spent ages listening again and again. This paved the way for us to learn about Dinosaur Jr., which in turn led to Sebadoh albums and the perilous and angsty journey into punk rock.

Thusly, with nigh overpowering nostalgia fueling me, I took in the recent Lou Barlow (of said bands) show on the Cowgirl patio. First off, I was feeling pretty impressed that Barlow was playing such a small venue, but it seems that Santa Fe is getting bigger shows like this more often. Plus, I’m willing to bet Barlow is one of those super-cool and down to earth musicians who subtly rules the land while keeping his head.

I arrived a tad early to check out Sarah Jaffe (myspace.com/sjaffe) open the show. In the days leading up to the concert, I’d heard nothing but good things about the Texas singer-songwriter, and Jaffe started strong with a beautiful voice and a quiet and subtly sad sound. Instantly, I realized there was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

Sarah Jaffe folkin' it up

Jaffe’s cellist and keyboardist added complexity to the simple guitar work, but I was going mad trying to figure out where I had heard this before. Then it hit me: I’ve sat in my room listening to Cat Power and Feist too ,and whether or not she realizes it, Jaffe emulates these musicians quite closely. Though Jaffe’s voice is solid, it sounds almost exactly like Leslie Fesit, a fact that kind of pissed me off. Now, I’m not saying that she was bad or anything, but it was just nothing I haven’t heard before. Jaffe’s strength is in her voice and not guitar playing. At times, this seemed to put undue pressure on her band, and a cursory glance at the crowd proved that I was pretty much the only person bored by the performance. It makes sense, though. Those unfamiliar with indie folk/country are bound to be impressed by an artist with such obvious-and worthy-influences. I suppose Jaffe makes a good transition for those interested in getting into these types of music, but I don’t see her having much lasting power in a genre already jam-packed with too many faceless acts that sound exactly the same. Continue reading »

This week in the Reporter there is only room in print for a brief sentence or two of my recent interview with Eric Pulido of Midlake—a Texas indie-rock band that became an international success in 2006 with their second LP, The Trials of Van Occupanther—so the best parts of our chat are featured below.

With a musical backdrop heavily influenced by Fleetwood Mac and early Neil Young, Van Occupanther detailed the simultaneously uplifting and melancholy plight of lovers, mountaineers and amateur scientists in late-1800s America. The album made many critics’ “Best of the 2000s” lists by reminding us that an LP, at its best, is a singular art form—one piece of music from start to finish—and also that its not always a sin for rock musicians to emerge out of music school, as Midlake has.

As his group makes its way to the Santa Fe Brewing Company tomorrow night on the heels of The Courage of Others, their haunting third LP, guitarist and backup singer Pulido spoke with me from the road.

Adam Perry: First of all, how did the idea for a concept album about a turn-of-the-century scientist arise—and how do you follow something like that? I’m thinking of Arcade Fire trying to follow Funeral, or even Pink Floyd with Darkside of the Moon.

Eric Pulido: We never really thought of it as a concept album. I do think that there was a common theme or vibe in the songs, but Van Occupanther was really just the protagonist of the title track and that was all. When we started work on The Courage of Others we felt like the slate was clean and we could go where we wanted without any more pressure than that which we put on ourselves. I always look at each album as being its own and for us, basing the standard on what’s moving us at the time rather than our own past records. I can totally understand people looking at our past records and saying Courage is not Van Occupanther…but I think that’s OK.

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[photo by Irene Joyce]

Last night, David Gans — longtime host of the popular nationally-syndicated radio show The Grateful Dead Hour (which has recently gone even bigger-time on satellite radio) — played Mike’s Music Exchange in Eldorado, just outside of Santa Fe. Mike’s is a small but very posh and professional-sounding venue with a front-room guitar store and mini-recording studio. The proprietors are still working on getting folks to make the drive out there and opening the adjacent restaurant and bar to concert-goers but, as far as the sound and feel of the room go, Mike’s is definitely impressive and welcoming.

As a drummer in San Francisco, I collaborated with Gans repeatedly from 2005 to 2008, beginning with a 2005 tour up the coast of California in a pick-up band called Guilty Pleasures with Gans and members of The Dead, Zen Tricksters and Phil Lesh & Friends. So, when the Oakland-based singer-songwriter and loop-station guitarist asked me to bring some hand percussion to Mike’s Music Exchange last night, I grabbed some rare drums from the Santa Fe blacksmith Tom Joyce (a collector of strange international instruments) and jumped on the musical opportunity. Thus, after Gans ran through a set of his pleasing, Northern California-centric folk songs, we riffed on stretched-out versions of “Norwegian Wood,” the older-than-old sailor song  ”Jack-A-Roe” (which dates back to the 1700’s) and David’s original rocker “River and Drown.”

After the gig, I was told that Mike’s has an ongoing first-Tuesday Open Mic Night that’s becoming something of a hit with singer-songwriters in the Santa Fe area. If you’re there for the June edition, make sure to say hello.

Two remarkable (and totally unrelated) new releases showed up in my mailbox this week. Though part of me just wants to applaud Sub Pop and Partisan Records for shipping their new David Cross and Deer Tick releases, respectively, in packaging heavy enough not to be swept away by the absurdly strong wind Santa Fe has been hit with lately, both releases transcend simple weather talk.

Rhode Island’s Deer Tick, fronted by the gravel-voiced young John J McCauley III, has released three solid albums on Partisan since 2007. I’ve seen a lot of bands chug booze on stage but, opening for Dr. Dog at Santa Fe Brewing Company late last month, Deer Tick was the first band I’ve seen plop an entire case of Budweiser at the front man’s feet and finish it during their 45-minute set. By the middle of said set—and this has happened every time I’ve seen Deer Tick—the group’s bearded, pot-bellied drummer looked like he could pass out at any second. What I’m getting at, however, is Deer Tick’s new LP The Black Dirt Sessions juxtaposes debauchery, despair, pride and sincerity in a way that’d make the late, bender-prone Hank Williams proud.

Utilizing piano and organ rather than the pounding drums and distorted guitar of 2009’s Born on Flag Day or the endearing shoddiness of 2007’s War Elephant (on which McCauley played all the instruments), The Black Dirt Sessions (Partisan) sees the band honing in on a kinder, gentler kind of songwriting that still rattles listeners’ bones a la creepy-but-beautiful Tom Waits ballads or Time Out of Mind-era Dylan. Additionally, McCauley goes “naked” on “Goodbye, Dear Friend” and “Christ Jesus,” supporting his creaky voice with nothing but a piano. And it’s pretty stirring stuff. No wonder old-school rock critics like Griel Marcus and David Fricke have been fawning over Deer Tick since its 2007 breakout.

Elsewhere, comedian David Cross—who has been seen everywhere from Arrested Development to I’m Not There (in which he played Allen Ginsberg) over the past few years—is about to drop his first stand-up album since 2004, and it’s a good one—with a caveat. Unlike It’s Not Funny (2004) and the sprawling classic Shut Up, You Fucking Baby! (2002), which were so brilliant they suddenly put him next in the line of great American comedians dating from Lenny Bruce to Bill Hicks, Cross’ recorded work on Bigger and Blackerer isn’t golden from start to finish.

What Bruce and Hicks usually accomplished—and Cross did this consistently on his previous albums—was the mighty duo of making listeners laugh hard and think harder. On Bigger and Blackerer, Cross repeatedly begs us to hit the “snooze” button (or the iPod click wheel) with poop jokes and tales of drug abuse, and doesn’t get to what he’s great at—making fun of politics and religion—until halfway through the album. And even then, after a killer routine about President Obama hanging out in his basement as a kid with William Ayers, the Reverend Wright and Kim Jong-Il, planning a way to kill grandparents when he grows up, Cross takes his stuffy Boston audience’s cue and returns to the truly low-brow stuff. And this after Cross’ long-running feud with Larry the Cable Guy…

Just released on DVD by MVD Visual, writer-editor-director Brendan Toller’s fascinating new documentary I Need That Record! is a must-see for American music lovers. In it, Toller travels around our troubled nation discussing the plight of independent record shops with ousted or struggling store owners; underground music legends such as Thurston Moore, Mike Watt and Ian MacKaye; social and political expert Noam Chomsky; and people of all walks of life who are upset about how difficult it’s becoming to buy albums anywhere but “big box stores” like Wal-Mart and Best Buy.

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