R.I.P. Jay Bennett

In tribute to one of the late greats...

Missed Opportunity...Yann Tiersen

Every now and then, a show will roll through town that I inevitably miss for one reason or another (read "lack of funds or failing to get my act together before it's sold out"). Tonight's example; French composer and burgeoning rocker Yann Tiersen, whose credits include the film scores for Goodbye Lenin, Tabarly, and most famously, Amelie.

Tiersen's instrumental compositions are dreamlike; dizzying waltzes and piano ballads brimming with emotion and whimsy. Accordian, violin, and melodica lend a playful and parisienne element to his music, which can be plaintive and sad one moment...frantic and exuberant the next. His is a unique and dramatic sound, one perfectly suited for use in film scoring, yet strong enough to stand on its own merits when removed from the context of the films.

As beautiful as his instrumental work may be, it is the indie-rocker persona that Tiersen is presenting on his current North American tour, ditching the accordian in favour of an electric guitar and kicking out les jams. While the electric guitar and bass turned up sparaingly on his last studio album, Les Retrouvailles, Tiersen has come to fully embrace the rock-combo configuration as documented on his newest release On Tour, for which he is now..uh...on tour.

As exciting as it would have been to see Tiersen tonight, I'll have to settle for this great clip of him performing the song "Le Moulin" from the Amelie soundtrack.

Enjoy!

Clapton Is Not God

Eric Clapton should be dead. You would probably think the same thing, had you read Clapton's autobiography, entitled....wait for it...Clapton: The Autobiography. Apparently the man's genius lies in his guitar playing, not his book titles.

Now I don't know if Clapton himself came up with the title, but what I can say is that he has composed a pretty riveting book. As one of the most accomplished guitarists of the past 40-odd years, Clapton has both embodied and endured every high and low of what the music industry encompasses. The highs; sixteen-time Grammy winner and the only triple inductee into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (for his work with the Yardbirds, Cream, and as a solo artist). The man has jammed with Jimi Hendrix, Muddy Waters, and Howlin' Wolf. The lows? Too many to count. It is by virtue of this autobiography that we learn of Clapton's endless list of short-comings and the years he spent in hell; something you wouldn't necessarily expect from someone who was once proclaimed, through re-occurring graffiti across the UK underground, as "God".

Throughout this book, I was always surprised by Clapton's frankness about his own life. In an industry known for endless self-promotion and flamboyance, Clapton has always remained fairly private and reserved. However, Clapton bares all in his autobiography, from years spent obsessing over Pattie Boyd (wife of best friend George Harrison and muse for his song "Layla") to his reclusive "lost" years where he did nothing but shoot heroin and eat chocolate in a constant state of paranoia...from his times spent strolling in and out of New York clubs and jamming with Jimi Hendrix to horrible confrontations with band members, lovers, and family...from recording "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" with the Beatles to weeping in a pool of his own vomit on a studio bathroom floor. This is a guy that should have gone down with the likes of Hendrix, Keith Moon, or John Bonham...brilliant artists who pushed their physical capabilities to the brink and never returned; it is a wonder that Clapton is still alive and able to share these tales of past indiscretion and ultimate redemption.

It is this redemption that rounds out the latter pages of Clapton's book, written in the language of someone who has obviously gone through more than a few rehab sessions. We learn that after years of failed relationships, public humiliation, and recurring bouts in rehab, the one thing that finally cleaned him up was the death of his son, Conor, who fell 42 stories from a Manhattan high-rise as Clapton was on his way to meet him for a day out on the town. It was cold turkey from the moment he found out. In the years to follow, Clapton took his sobriety one step further and established his Crossroads rehabilitation program in an effort to help those whose lives have seemed to mirror his own. Selfishness and ego gives way to selflessness, and we cheer his new found lust for life after the hell that he has passed through.

As emotionally heavy as his autobiography can be, Clapton does allow himself to nerd out a bit and drop some guitar tech-talk, spouting the virtues of humbucker pick-ups and the way he worked his thumb into the fingering of chords when he was a kid learning how to play. These moments represent a slip into guitar-lesson territory, which adds another element to his book; not only is this the story of his life (and by virtue of that a personal history of 60s and 70s British rock music), but there are things in here that guitarists of any skill level will appreciate and learn from. Afterall, Clapton is a guitarist first and songwriter a rather far-off distant second.

Clapton's songs have never been anything to write home about. He's written some pretty great riffs over the years, but the bulk of his solo career has been mediocre at best. What Clapton has done is carve out a niche as one of the most expressive guitar players out there and has made a fantastic effort to preserve and celebrate blues music for contemporary audiences. Ironically, the very blues musicians who Clapton has emulated all these years would probably blush knowing what he has gone through in his life. If anyone has the right to play the blues, it's him. His life not only stands as a history lesson in blues and rock music, but as a human story of addiction, desperation, and redemption. Clapton is not God. He's human and as such, fallible...and in this book, he willingly acknowledges it.

For a guitar solo that melts the paint off your walls, check out this clip of Clapton playing "Old Love" at London's Hyde Park.

Howdjadoo...Neko Case

Howdjadoo...J. Tillman

This Economy Stuff is So Touch and Go...

An economic free-fall knows no boundaries. Eventually, everything is affected in some way or another, including our ability to access music. One of the latest casualties is Touch and Go Records, an influential independent label that has been responsible for bringing us the sweet sounds of artists as diverse as the Butthole Surfers, Jesus Lizard, Calexico, TV on the Radio, Pinback, Slint, and Silkworm.

Touch and Go Records has announced that it will be downsizing its operations over the coming months, and in doing so, severing its ties with a number of smaller independent labels such as Thrill Jockey, All Tomorrow's Parties, Merge, Drag City, and Kill Rock Stars. These labels, among others, will undoubtedly take a bit of a hit by this shift in Touch and Go's priorities, which will see the company relinquish its role as their manufacturer and distributor and instead focus on maintaining its own catalogue sales.

Here is an excerpt from a press-release issued by head Touch and Goer, Corey Rusk;

"Many of you may not be aware, but for nearly two decades, Touch and Go has provided manufacturing and distribution services for a select yet diverse group of other important independent record labels. Titles from these other labels populate the shelves of our warehouse alongside the titles on our own two labels, Touch and Go Records and Quarterstick Records.

"Unfortunately, as much as we love all of these labels, the current state of the economy has reached the point where we can no longer afford to continue this lesser-known yet important part of Touch and Go's operations."

"Touch and Go will be returning to its roots and focusing solely on being an independent record label. We'll be busy for a few months working closely with the departing labels and scaling our company to an appropriate smaller size after their departure. It is the end of a grand chapter in Touch and Go's history, but we also know that good things can come from new beginnings."

The announcement brings attention to the plight of the independent music community which has always struggled to succeed in an industry dominated by major labels; economic downfall notwithstanding. Indie labels already operate with significantly smaller budgets than those of the majors (despite nurturing the careers of some of the biggest artists of our day including Nirvana and Green Day), so we already know that this fragile economy doesn't do much to help their situation. More worrisome is the loss of industry resources (like the manufacturing/distributing operations provided by companies like Touch and Go Records) that make it even harder for smaller labels to continue releasing great music. Many of the 20 or so labels with longstanding working relationships with Touch and Go will now have to find other companies to manufacture (not so hard to do) and adequately distribute (a lot harder/costlier to do) their albums.

Luckily, what the independent music industry may lack in financial stability it more than makes up for in resourcefulness. Deeply rooted in a "trial and error" existence, indie labels and artists have traditionally exhibited both the ability and willingness to experiment and adapt to shifts in industry trends, moreso than the arrog...sorry...steadfast majors.

Far from killing the independent radio star, what the failing economy will likely do is serve as another nail in the coffin of the CD. As mainstream as downloading already is, the state of the economy will likely push even more people to sell/buy their music on the internet. With virtually zero manufacturing costs and endless potential for proliferation, digital mp3 files are far and above a greater (not to mention greener) alternative for indie labels. Money once tied up in these endeavors could then be redirected towards the promotion of the artists in order to create and maintain a profile among music fans.

Thoughts? Comments?

Howdjadoo...Andrew Bird

A feature of this blog I plan to maintain is a kind of brief introductory primer on some artists that have found their way into my ear and set up shop. I decided to call the feature "Howdjadoo..." after an old Woody Guthrie tune for kids about shaking hands and getting to know people. I'll include links to the artists' official sites so you can find out more about them at your own leisure.

The first artist I wanted to feature is one of the most compelling artists I've ever seen or heard; Chicago-based Andrew Bird. I can remember the first time I ever heard him, I was instantly head-over-heels. Thanks, Chip.

Bird started out with swing-revivalists the Squirrel Nut Zippers, but soon left the band to focus on his own music. Employing a violin, guitar, looping pedal/sampler, bittersweet voice, and a whistle that is all too worthy of his namesake, Bird's songs bristle with texture while defying classification; in any given song you can pick out elements of folk, blues, country, jazz, classical, and yes, even rock. The man has an uncanny sense of dynamics in his songwriting, creating songs which tend to build with complexity into densely orchestrated numbers that are as mysterious as they are tender. His concerts will leave you flabbergasted. Yes, flabbergasted.

Andrew Bird has a new album, Noble Beast, out now. My favourite album of his has always been Andrew Bird & the Mysterious Production of Eggs from 2005. Find it and enjoy.

Here's Andrew Bird performing the song "Section 8 City"...


Andrew Bird - From the Basement from QandnotU on Vimeo.