Now Hear This! Alt-Country

Now Hear This!
Music You May Have Missed
By Jonathan “Killstring” Herzberger
Originally published in The Cauldron (2009)

Review time.

Sorry, I just wanted to start with that. Since we’ve started midterms, that simple phrase could well prove enough to scare a significant amount of readers off. Trust me – we understand. But here at the Now Hear This Institute for a Significantly More Awesome Life, we have promised to shore up your education.

And as recent times have shown, said education is significantly lacking in areas your brave staff had taken for granted. Never fear! Your pals at NHTISMAL are pretentious nerds so you don’t have to be!

Consider this Indie Rock: 101. Maybe 102 – the numbering system isn’t exact. Anyway. Step into the rock-fueled wayback machine, and travel back through time with me – first, we’re going to an indistinct point in the late sixties/early seventies. The lines between Rock, Folk and Country are blurry, and acts like Creedence Clearwater Revival, Janis Joplin, Cat Stevens etc. are making music that’s so good, nobody’s really worried about genre just yet.

This time, quite obviously, dies a lonesome death.

Now we go to the late eighties/early ninties, and meet one of our subjects, who at this time are called Uncle Tupelo. The band’s first record, No Depression was influential enough to become a synonym for Alt-Country, as well as the name taken by the genre’s flagship magazine, which published from 1995 through 2008.

This band made four pretty good albums, had problems involving a clash between singer/guitarists Jay Farrarr and Jeff Tweedy, and broke up in short order. Tweedy and the remnants of Tupelo founded a little band named Wilco, but we’ll get to them later.

Our next stop is the mid-to-late ninties, and a band called Whiskeytown. They were fronted by an enigmatic ex-punk rocker named Ryan Adams, and they – are you ready for this? They made four pretty good albums (one of which, Those Weren’t The Days, was never released) had problems involving a clash between singer/guitarist Adams and… well, pretty much everybody, and broke up in short order. Adams founded a little band called – well, to be truthful, usually called Ryan Adams.

It’s ok. He’s crazy, and we’ll get to that.

Now, Wilco goes on to release a flurry of records, most of which are rather good. The most notable of these is 2002’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, which served as an unfortunate example of how well and truly messy the music business was, and remains. Foxtrot is a seminal album, a benchmark if you will. The weird experimentation, unhurried production, and undeniably brilliant songwriting make it one of those rare ‘classic’ albums that actually kind of earns the status.

They’ve done plenty of other notable work – 2005’s A Ghost is Born took home the Grammy for Best Alternative Music Album, 1999’s Summerteeth was a criminally unappreciated gem, 2007’s Sky Blue Sky sounds an awful lot like Tweedy & Co. tried to make a John Lennon solo album, and I mean that in the nicest way – and you get the idea.

They dropped a recored cleverly titled Wilco: The Album, which leads off with “Wilco: The Song,” which is honestly just fun to type. Bottom line? Take a listen – because if you like what you hear, this particular well goes really deep.

Meanwhile, Ryan Adams wasn’t just sitting around being crazy and dating starlets. I mean, he was very, very busy doing that, but he also put out records at an alarming rate. He also happened to be the right guy in the right place at a terrible, terrible time. His 2001 release, Gold, featured a feel-good love letter to New York City, titled “New York, New York.”

Then, of course, 9/11 happened.

And a lot of big-name musicians came in to write about what had happened, and of course, this being America, a lot of capitalists tried to capitalize on the city’s newly invigorated patriotism – but the simple, honest, scruffy ode by an NYC native son seemed to encapsulate the feelings in the city post 9/11 – when we all just desperately wanted to believe that yeah, everything is going to be all right in the end.

Whatever the reason, “New York, New York” got very popular, very quickly. Gold really holds up as a record, too – sort of Counting Crows if they were more country, and didn’t have much in the way of a budget.

Adams just kept going – in 2002, after his label didn’t feel comfortable releasing his lovingly crafted album Love Is Hell, citing that it was too depressing.

To be fair, it’s hardly a cheery pop disc.

Ever the innovator, Adams returned to his label (Lost Highway, if anybody cares) with an album ready to go. That album turned out to be the uncharacteristically polished (and even a little U2-like) Rock N’ Roll – which is every bit as vital, urgent, and raucous as the name and situation would imply. Despite being a big stylistic leap, the record took off, and some critics, by which I mean this one, right here, talking to you now, think that Rock N’ Roll is possibly the best thing Adams has ever released.

Love is Hell eventually came out in 2004, after having been two split EP’s. Also an incredible listen, as is the entirety of his later work with his band The Cardinals, Cold Roses in particular.

Adams is another artist who, if it turns out you like his work, you will never find yourself bemoaning a lack of it. Hell, this is the guy who in 2006, recorded roughly 18 albums worth of original hip-hop, which is floating around the Internet somewhere. The man recently left The Cardinals to get married to Mandy Moore, but a quick look around the Internet will find projects ranging from children’s books, art exhibits, Black Metal (Under the name Werewolph) and more youtube videos than you will ever, ever find the time to watch.

He’s either this generation’s Andy Warhol, or he’s actually mentally ill, or perhaps he’s a total jerk. Maybe a mix of the three. But whatever the reason, Adams – along with Wilco, and fellow indie/emo/country darling Connor Oberst – have successfully blurred the lines between rock and country again that fans of one, the other, or even neither genre can find something to like in their music.

Okay, class is over. You’ve got a lot of music that you didn’t know you loved to get to. Godspeed, brave Audionauts, and we’ll catch you next time.

February 3, 2015August 11, 2015 by killstring Categories: Music, Work stuff I've writtenTags: Music, Now Hear This Leave a comment

Now Hear This – Guster (2009)

Now Hear This!
Music You May Have Missed
By Jonathan “Killstring” Herzberger
Originally published in The Cauldron, 2009

Man. Education is awesome – I sure do love all this learning I’ve been doing. New ideas, new takes on old thoughts, and of course, new responsibilities, as the Now Hear This Aircraft Carrier becomes the launching point for all of our fine, bubbly Cauldron’s Arts and Entertainment news.

Okay, so that’s a rough, and stretched metaphor – but it wouldn’t be NHT without at least one absurd self-referential third-person statement, would it? Facts, you can get anywhere, but when you want useless, ponderous drivel with your hidden musical treasure why, we’re your one-stop-shop my good man/woman/hermaphrodite. And we’ve got both in ample quantity this week, cats and kittens, boy howdy.

But I’ve digressed, and it’s only the third paragraph. Education, is the word today. And we’ve spent so much time as an editorial, literary body discussing how best to address you, dear reader, that even the mighty USS Now Hear This isn’t excused from the microscope. So. What do we know about you, the avid reader of NHT?

You’re intelligent. Literate. Urbane, and discerning. Forest creatures break out in choreographed song when you approach, and there are few human beings on this planet who don’t find you attractive on at least some level.

Also, you’re a student at Cleveland State University. This is important to note, as unlike certain other Universities that your faithful writer has attended, the populace here is much more diverse, both culturally and economically. For our purposes, this means one very important thing: namely, that there’s a distinct lack of know-it-all trust fund hipsters, spouting clichéd references to how everything you like is So Last Year, and they liked that, when they were seventeen and had no taste, and so on.

It’s a void, and one that we aim to fill – despite lacking the inherent arrogance, and you know… the yachts and all, we do possess an encyclopedic knowledge of modern popular music. So, what does all this mean? It means, quite frankly, that we’ve neglected your education, dear reader – well, feel lost and ashamed no longer… for today, we’re going to meet an old friend of myself, and scarf-clad indie kids worldwide.

Guster, meet the readers. Readers, Guster.

A little Massachusetts College band that got their start in 1991 – yes, Freshman, I know how old you were then, calm down – the classic lineup is duel frontmen Adam Gardener and Ryan Miller on acoustic guitars and vocals, with drummer Brian Rosenworcel providing Latin and African hand percussion. If that sounds like something that hackey sack-playing hippies would like, well, yeah. Probably. It’s also pretty damn compelling pop music no matter who you are, but if you’re looking for something a bit more polished, you might want to avoid their first two albums, 1994’s Parachute, and 1997’s Goldfly. You’ll miss out on some quaint little indie folk, before we knew to call it that, but maybe that’s the point.

The real point here, is their 1999 release, Lost and Gone Forever, produced by Steve Lillywhite – you know, the guy who did all those Dave Matthews Band albums that people like for some reason – this marked the turning point in both sound, and commercial success for Guster. Sure, the first two tracks seem fairly standard fare, a little electric guitar thrown in, but otherwise, not too distinct. But when we get to the horn section in the album’s lone hit “Fa Fa,” or the atmospheric electrics on “I Spy”, the sense of composition has skyrocketed past simple folk tunes at this point.

By the time you reach the two songs that make up the disc’s climactic third act – the Peter Gabriel-esqe, mandolin-laden “Two Points for Honesty”, and the apocalyptic “Rainy Day” it’s clear that the quaint little trio has morphed into an entirely different animal, and the scope of the work is undeniable, inexorable in a sense; you just can’t help but be swept away.

For plenty of bands, that’d be it for the article. We’d say something witty, tell you to go buy the damn album, and we’d all drink imported tea, or something. But not Guster, oh no. They were just getting warmed up. You can still drink the tea though.

Between 2001 and 2003, the band was going through some serious evolution, not the least of which was Rosenworcel’s switching to kit drums – you know, the kind you play with sticks – in order to avoid nerve damage. The result was a more up-tempo, some might say more accessible sound. They also added multi-instrumentalist Joe Pisapia to the band, to bring the energetic, varied sound on the road. Both “Amsterdam” and “Careful” scored some rotation, and filmmakers gleefully plundered the compositions for use, the most recent being Wedding Crashers’ use of “I hope Tomorrow is Like Today.”

This album laid the groundwork for a lot of what would eventually be called ‘Indie’ Rock, by pretentious jerks like your humble narrator. But even that wasn’t enough for Guster, they just… kept going.

2006’s Ganging up on the Sun was released on Reprise Records, officially launching Guster into something like the mainstream. Ganging topped out at #25 on the Billboard charts, “Satellite” was a hit on some level, the band toured extensively, and somehow found a way to make accordions chilling, haunting, and atmospheric.

At the end of the day, Guster isn’t used as a benchmark measurement for indie bands without due cause. They are quite simply, one of the best musical acts that you can find in recent memory, regardless of your taste, or preferred genre. And with a new album slated for a non-specific 2009 release, Guster hasn’t lost its lustre.

If you hate me for that rhyme, don’t worry – I hate myself for it even more – but the band’s good enough to survive such hackneyed literary contrivances. Higher praise, I cannot think of. Stop reading and go buy all their records, and we’ll see you in two weeks.

February 3, 2015August 11, 2015 by killstring Categories: Music, Work stuff I've writtenTags: Music, Now Hear This Leave a comment