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As Long as This Thing's Flyin'

Andrew Anderson

There's a glut of country/folk artists in present-day Austin. You know it, I know it. I happen to love country music. I've always liked the old stuff (or new traditionalists like Freakwater, Richard Buckner, Giant Sand, and so forth) but my appreciation for the polished commercial version of Nashville music has risen in the past few years from an odd source. I'm a big "American Idol" fan (we'll talk about that more in January), and the country-themed weeks and the contestants who attempt to brand themselves in that genre are a nice break from all of the tepid Top 40 tunes. Modern commercial country can be pretty broad and creamy, but for whatever reason it's remained a discipline where professional songwriters (as opposed to singer/composers) dominate and that means that even if the songs are formulaic at least they're complete, with choruses that flow logically out of the verses, structures that build to climax, and instrumental hooks in addition to vocal ones. For years I used to say the only kind of music I really had no use for was modern radio-friendly country and I don't feel that way at all any more. Keeping an open mind is important as a musician and as a music listener. You could learn a valuable lesson anywhere. And Nickel Creek's Pavement cover is better than the original. There, I said it.

I don't think I have to go out of my way to explain my appreciation for Andrew Anderson's As Long as Thing's Flyin'. On a facetious level, the record has the trappings of current country-rock. Lyrically there's a predominance of mentions for sin and whiskey, and the acoustic guitar changes are what you would expect. But Anderson and his extremely talented bandmates, drummer Luke Meade and and multi-instrumentalist Jeremy Harris, have gone out of their way to complete a record that's full of personal expression and memorable, individualist touches. Even the packaging is better than the norm: Rather than a jewelbox with a piece of paper inside, Flyin' comes in a really lovely cardstock case with elegant screenprinted artwork. CD's have been rendered a mere delivery system for digital content, to be ripped and discarded, but here the artist has created something worth keeping. The simple but iconic inner sleeve design and the band photographs all work together to give another perspective on the music on the disc.

The songs, like the sleeve, are simple at first glance. Anderson is an instinctive songwriter with a direct lyrical and musical approach. His most distinguishing tendency as a singer is to not let the constraints of meter interfere with his ideas; he moves rhyme schemes and rhythms around in cool ways. While his songs aren't packed wall-to-wall with weird changes, there's more harmonic movement than is usual for work in this style. What really separates As Long as This Thing's Flyin' is the arrangements, for which Meade and Harris deserve equal credit. Meade engineered the record in addition to drumming on it, co-producing with the rest of the band, and Flyin' really sounds like a professional, finished album. There are different production approaches to introduce songs (the scratchy, back-porch quality to "The One I Left Behind" at its opening) and clever transitions (a raunchy pick slide bridges "Wait Darlin'" and "Hell on Earth"). Meade also has a style on the drums that's unusually aggressive for country-rock, but never too loud, distracting, or inappropriate. His ability to play busy, heavy fills and then zip back into a shuffling backbeat is one of the many subtle elements that makes the album distinctive.

Harris is a one-man wrecking crew, playing proficient and reliably tasteful parts on electric guitar, banjo, and dobro. He's clearly a prodigy, but what really sets him apart is his ability to moderate his attack to leave Anderson's vocals their proper space in the mix. "Wait Darlin'" has an amazing dry lead guitar riff that gives way to a related but gentler banjo lick when the vocals come in; that's only one example of how Harris harnesses his tremendous talent to make Anderson's songs come across more strongly. The trio work together beautifully. Meade is equally willing to lay back and provide just a shaker or a lone kick drum if that's what best suits the song.

At 14 tracks As Long as This Thing's Flyin' starts to retrace its own steps in the back end. There are some nice cello additions here and there, but the group does tend to stay in one mood for each piece and the stronger songs are crowded towards the front of the running order. That means a few later pieces come over like weaker developmental versions of what we've already heard. They would benefit from having a real bass player, too; Anderson and Harris's efforts at the instrument sound like the competent work of good musicians but don't give the extra shape and texture of a true bassist born -- there's a lot of root notes just doubling the guitars. I think Anderson and his group have the imagination and the skill to broaden their sound in both directions. Meade's rock chops could allow them to sound convincing on heavier electric numbers, but there's also a knowledge of old-world modes at work here that suggests they could try some more overtly folk sounds and pull it off. From the basis of Harris's cello arrangements, I'd love to hear what he could create with a full-blown string quartet. Lyrically, Anderson is much stronger when he's clearly drawing from personal experience ("Once Met a Girl," "Old Dusty Trail") than when he's trying to sing in someone else's shoes (the slightly awkward "Send the Bastard Running"). What's important is that he's writing songs about different subjects and from different perspectives, something that will keep his material consistently improving. With Meade and Harris in the fold, he's got to keep his game up to meet the challenge of providing songs worthy enough for players this good and this smart.

Demo Sweat #6

There's no immediate danger of running out of listening material for these things, it appears.

Matthew Bryan's dedication to Radiohead's music is pretty impressive. Unfortunately it means the more you listen to his recordings the less original he seems. Bryan has gone so far as dividing himself between two distinct musical identities: one is solo vocals accompanied by guitar and sounds like early Radiohead with vocals indebted to Thom Yorke's solo stuff; the other is flat-out Eraser electronica with occasional guitar interjections that sound like recent vintage Greenwood. It's not easy to write songs in this style, with odd phrase lengths, unusual guitar and vocal harmonies, and subtle structure. "Grumped" might sound exactly like something from the How Am I Driving? EP but if it was a Radiohead song, it'd be a pretty good one. Otherwise the electronic songs are pretty lame, the beats aren't well-programmed and the rigidity enforced by the loops narrows what Bryan can do singing and on guitar. He overcompensates for the repetitive, blocky grooves with totally random breaks that don't seem at all related to the main sections. His solo guitar stuff is better, particularly "King of the Jungle," the first thing of his I listened to and I think the best thing he's done so far. When he slows things down and relies on his electric guitar playing, which is skilled and has a lot of separate bass and treble parts, his debt to Thom Yorke is less obvious. On his moodier pieces, his Yorke-like fondness for eerie falsetto ninths sounds more like his own style and less of a tribute. He's got an unbelievable voice, by the way, which is one reason I'm giving him so much space here -- "World War III Is Coming" sounds like "Motion Picture Soundtrack" sung by a resurrected Tim ("NOT JEFF") Buckley. Bryan slides up into pitch naturally and his little changes in intonation and emphasis are so good you forgive him for songs that sometimes last longer than need be. Amazing musician, but he needs to open himself up to a lot more influences. And play with some other people -- something tells me his ideal role is as the singer of a rock band with some electronic influences. Like you-know-who.

Josh Caldwell is a songwriter with a lot more stylistic range. He can dial up a new wave beat ("With You") or a nu-metal pastiche with proficient ease, and musically his tunes are well-arranged with good central hooks and active, varied lead guitar, piano, and drums. Lyrically he poses me with a bit of a problem. How do I write about Christian artists in this column? Do I cover them at all? I'm a rigid, humorless atheist -- I actively write songs trying to convince people not to believe in gods. I think it's not fair to Josh's abilities to write him off because I don't agree with his message. As a church worship leader, he's presented with the challenge of delivering a deeply personal message to an extremely varied audience. The way he switches genres with ease speaks to his preparedness for this job. But as far as his lyrics go, well, if you're going to write a religious song and expect my full endorsement, you better sell me pretty hard. I think the concept of an afterlife is demeaning to what we can accomplish in this one, but for the length of Death Cab for Cutie's "I Will Follow You into the Dark," Atheismo preserve me, I believe. That's how great a song it is. Caldwell's lyrics don't have any personal connection between writer and subject; they're just variations on the same tired memes that if you went to church every week as a kid (which I sure did) you've heard a million times before. You know the "South Park" episode with Cartman's Christian band, Faith Plus One? That's what I'm reminded of here, which is a shame because the music is excellent. I'm perfectly willing to give Christian artists the same objective hearing I would anybody else, but the lyrics better be up there with Slow Train Coming if you're really going to move me.

You don't have to be a phenomenal musician to be a good songwriter, but if you choose to present your music solo with just your own guitar accompaniment, you owe it to yourself not to suck at the guitar. Laura Imhoff has an unreal singing voice and an immediately recognizable talent for turning her personal observations into arresting, poetic lyrics, but her terrible, noisy acoustic guitar strangling destroys any effort at sustaining a mood. Oscillating at random between two half chords (or less: "Come My Child" is like six droning minutes of G#) limits what Imhoff can do vocally and all the random blue notes and dropped rhythms distract from her melodies and storytelling. Take some lessons, practice way more, or hire a real guitarist. In a different genre, but similarly limited by unskilled guitar playing is Ray PD. There's some feeling and some messages behind his songs, but the pounding, leaden strumming of block chords with little variation and no feel makes them physically unpleasant to listen to. The stops and starts and mistakes in Chris Edwards' songs could be interpreted as stylistic choices if he would stick to playing by himself, but his recordings feature banjo and percussion overdubs that don't even remotely move in rhythmic relation to the guitar and vocals. I wanted to like a folksinger whose MySpace page name alludes to Spinal Tap, but all I found was an amateur desperately in need of a metronome. Or a drummer, which are sometimes cheaper.

Dale Perry on the other hand can play. His live duo recordings with harmonica player Jimi Lee, all available in high-quality format at Perry's website, rip with distinctive and varied blues riffing. Perry has a loose, part improvised style, but rooted in songs that are well-written and original. It's hard to write a new blues song -- the chords are pretty much dictated by the style -- but Perry plays hybrid lead and rhythm parts on his instrument that are unique to each composition. What's more, the lyrics are recognizably in a traditional blues idiom, but they're not copied from old songs. Perry is taking his own experiences and communicating about them in a specific style. Really neat stuff, and the gruff, oil-soaked vocals drip with soul.

Sometimes to get the basic idea of a song across a songwriter has to use shortcuts like drum machines and samplers. Sometimes recordings of this nature are genius, but often I wonder if they wouldn't be better served working out a really distinctive single guitar or piano part. Bluesriff Brown's best tune is the simplest, "Far Away," and his singing voice is better than San Antonio's self-deprecating Brown gives himself credit for. When he starts messing with multitrack recordings, the basic shapes of the songs are either obscured or lost entirely in overly loud rhythm strumming or out-of-time drum machine. The overdubs ruin his natural feel playing alone, he probably would benefit from playing with others. I think his tune "The Mantle" has the wrong title; a "mantle" is a cape but Brown is singing about a "mantel," a kind of furniture. Larry Roszkowiak could be similarly dismissed for his songs' out-of-sync programmed backing, but even though they're not quite square to the beat the drum and bass patterns show the right musical knowledge. The main point here is the songs themselves, which show practiced wit in telling stories that build up to humorous choruses. Roszkowiak's specialty is funny tunes about male/female relationships. "Drive the Distance" is the standout, with a clever hook and main idea. The basic concept wears thin over two other similar but less good songs. Larry might want to try taking on some new topics, and adopting a pen name if he ever wishes to see his name in parenthesis on a record sleeve. Dreamland Days is a one-man band and not just a stockpile of demos, I think, but you'd be hard-pressed to tell. Jason Smith is adept at getting his programmed parts and his live instruments to line up properly, but he just doesn't have very many interesting ideas. He's a fine technician and producer, but although well-played his project utterly lacks for memorable guitar or vocal parts. His singing is pretty dull too -- not bad, just not distinctive or memorable in any specific way. Sometimes the lyrics are predictable and sometimes they're just bad ("Sugarlips").

I'm a traditionalist myself -- I would prefer not to even listen to music on my computer, let alone make it with one-- but it's hard to argue that the future of music is in hybrid electronic projects like De Rol Le'. Why do I say that? Well, I can listen to a rock band and pick apart how they do what they do -- those are drums, that's a piano, that's a bass. When it comes to ambient projects like this, there's really no dividing live performances from samples, patches, sequenced material, DJing... the important thing in this genre is the finished product, not the means of its creation. Raising challenging questions of what is and isn't an original creation is the task of all artists, musical or otherwise. The music of De Rol Le' is certainly atmospheric, but it's not unmusical -- there's an ear at work here for odd intersecting rhythms and overtones that is practiced. I like how the songs tend to be on the short side, staying just long enough to create a distinct impression and then ending before the repeating elements start becoming a point of themselves. Magic Hero vs Rock People, who are part proper band, part Negativland-style found sound installation, and part art project, are certainly doing their best to challenge expectations and engage conscious thought on the part of their listeners. However, musically their proper songs are kind of dull, with hazy production not obscuring songs that recycle lyrics too much, guitar progressions that are bland and obvious, and unimaginative keyboard riffs that move around the guitars in the same way every song. The sample-heavy stuff too seems to be an excuse to release unfocused jamming as completed songs. That said, the way their stuff is sewn together shows real thought and talent; even the kind of weak folk songs have weird intros and crossfades. I think I might enjoy them more over the course of an album where the parts suggest some larger whole rather than experiencing them piecemeal through online sound clips. The Drew Fish Band doesn't have the defense of being high-concept like Magic Hero, they're just another dime-a-dozen Austin Americana band where the acoustic guitarist blithely strums block chords and the fiddle player lazily saws the root note of all those chords simultaneously. Fish has a cool voice, but the songs and lyrics are blah.

Finally Richmond's Gospel Doll only has two songs up but they're both pretty excellent pep pills of coiled hardcore energy. They're a bass-drums duo but Tava Terroir puts a lot of guitar players to shame with lead lines on the bass that are melodic and rhythmically solid. Terroir and drummer Dan Hassay lose their place a few times on these early recordings, but more often than not they follow each other nicely with drums that take an active part in developing the songs with breakdowns and blastbeats. Love Terroir's unholy caterwauling, too. "Vice Squad Blues" has a really different-sounding intro and outro that show some excellent potential range for this minimalist pair. Long instrumental sections aren't really their strong suit, as they tend to kind of reveal the limitations inherent in the duo lineup, but they have more than enough ideas to fill in good songs. More recordings soon, it says on their page. I hope so.

Splendid Time Guaranteed

Nano Whitman

Lambert's, 10/30

I really liked Nano Whitman's EP, enough that I probably would have liked him plenty playing as a solo artist. However, Friday's gig was the pianist/guitarist/songwriter's first with a full band in some time, and that made it a real treat. Rare indeed is the songwriter who feeds off the energy of his partners on stage which such grace and giving spirit. Whitman's band played some pretty obvious covers, but not as a showcase for the leader, but rather as a chance for his talented harmony singer to step out a few times. Instead of a contemptuous star submitting an accepted classic for audience approval, the Whitman band's "Hallelujah" and "Whiter Shade of Pale" sounded like close friends sharing the power great songs can have together.

But it was the originals that I came for, and they're what ought to earn Whitman a wider audience. Songs like "28" have some very personal lyrics, blunt even, but it's a sign of Whitman's self-assurance that he performs them strongly, looking out into the crowd with his eyes open. The extra drive given by his bassist and (particularly) drummer Zed Miles gave the songs a minimalist, to-the-point approach that blew away the EP's more studied vibe. Whitman has a wonderful voice, but one that's best suited to a quiet backing so he doesn't need to strain to be heard. His rhythm section grasped this and performed in a really solid but restrained style which left them the ability to pop up for emphasis when necessary and kept every word of Whitman's intelligently written tunes audible.

The best thing about the show and the performer is the spirit of community Whitman engenders seemingly everywhere he goes. The more people on stage, the more energy and happiness seemed to exude from the bandleader. For his last song, members of other bands on the bill came up to add vocals, guitar, and harmonica and Whitman was positively glowing as he hooted and stomped. Indeed, what good is the best song in the world if there's no one with whom to share it?

Pretty Good Racket

More Needful Things [EP]

World Racketeering Squad

Although the chord changes are simple and the drums and bass rudimentary, there's a ton of smarts and wit distributed across this EP's three songs. "Panic" has an obvious Buzzocks/Ramones guitar riff and beat, but the fake British singing and stealth country lead guitar make it infectious and original. Then World Racketeering Squad go on to do entirely different things on the next two tracks.

"Needful Things" has a hilarious, and awesome, recorder overdub. The darker "Electromagnetic Pulse" explores later and slower influences, but with a repeating background vocal that adds a light side and gives the song a subversively catchy element.

Jangling Manchester guitars, punk power chords, and "ba da ba" choruses have been combined before, but not usually with this witty and irreverent a touch. Really digging it.

Quiet Dancing

Calliope Musicals, School of Liars

Headhunter's, 10/28

There's been a lot of public discussion about ethics in blogging lately. There's this threatening-sounding disclosure law that almost makes me feel guilty getting comped for $5 shows. So let's err on the side of caution and mention that Matt, guitar player for Calliope Musicals, is a partner of mine in another musical venture.

That shouldn't stop me, I don't believe, from giving deserved attention to his other band. Calliope Musicals make a brand of folk music so comfortable that sounds like it should come on a record in an already-worn sleeve; their songs are simple but their own. What makes them particularly interesting is a slightly unconventional rhythm section (upright bass, cajon, and vibraphone) that fulfills its role quite beautifully. This talented trio of Paul Benton, Caleb Jones, and Craig Finkelstein comes over like a tight jazz bassist, drummer, and pianist, giving the songs a mighty skeleton and driving pulse. If anything, the guitarists could play less to let the effectiveness of the back line shine through. Matt Roth and Carrie Fussell strum the same chords in unison a little too often. I didn't have much use for their "I Will Survive" cover, which seemed to assume the unusual instruments by themselves made up for a not-particularly-imaginative arrangement of a wizened chestnut of a song. Their originals, however, show promise. Lots more harmonies and way less guitar strumming and they'll really be playing my tune.

Over in the other room, I was happy to catch a handful of songs by A School of Liars, about whom I wrote recently. I wish I could have heard even more. Live they have a punk rock urgency to them their recordings lack and their lead guitarist has lovely tone and an approach that adds to the songs rather than duplicating the vocal melodies. They're quite tight as a quartet with good two-part harmonies. Still wish their songs were a little less conventionally structured, and the repetition in the lyrics could be cut down. But they're another local act with a spark, worthy of your time and attention.

What A Drag It Is Getting Old

Straylight Run

Emo's, 10/27

You can tell the members of Straylight Run are serious about being perceived as grown-up musicians. It's the beards! Stripped down to a trio lineup the band are more direct and tougher than their slightly creamy recordings. John Nolan puts his emphasis on delivering his vocals just right and keeps his guitar and piano contributions spare. That lets Will Noon and Shaun Cooper really carry the freight on drums and bass. "I'm Through With the Past" is earnest and obvious in its recorded incarnation; but reduced to vocals, bass power chords, and a lean drumbeat, it moves in an entirely different way.

It's a good thing that the band is interested in using many different sounds on its records, but live they have a bare-essentials approach that both makes the wordy emoting of Nolan's lyrics sound more at home and reveals that the band's promise lies in the basic building blocks. To carry off a song like "The Perfect Ending" solo at the piano as Nolan did to close the evening you have to choose your melodies and chords with precision. They may be missing the main idea at times in the studio, but on stage Straylight Run have all they need to get their message across.

More Mutating, Please

How Y'All Doin..?..

Mutant Press

Mutant Press leader Mr. Yummy is clearly a confident guy. You don't write yourself your own anthem without being able to back it up. Yummy isn't totally without justification. Clever changes like the diminished-chord chorus of "Touching Tongues" show some musical savvy; the band's overall hybrid of tinny keyboards and butt-rock guitars is not displeasing. There's a lot of good melodies to be found on this disc, and it places ("Tippin & Toolin") they really come together with good choruses and clever guitar. For a whole 16 tracks though, Mutant Press need more from the rhythm section than canned drums and looped-sounding bass riffs. The longer jams as on "You Name Is Mud" are leaden with undeveloped rhythms, and a brace of randomly chosen and flatly performed covers stretches out How Y'All Doin..?.. long past its natural ending point.

The more focused, lyric-based songs work better with the cookie-cutter drum machine sound. "G.B.J." with its Beach Boys allusion is an effective three-minute dance song. The use of dropped-in samples here and there is sometimes more interesting than the instruments proper. The vocal production style, with its multi-tracked leads, makes Mr. Yummy sound pretty cool. The sensibility that layers discount synths much bigger in the mix than guitar shredding bits is a good one. Ultimately though there's not enough rhythmic variety here for a whole 16-track album. The drum machines really grind you down when they're this continuous and unvaried. What could be cool extended guitar passages on "N.Y.C." and "Dancing in the Margin of Error" get done in by the lack of supporting development from the drums and bass.

Mutant Press credits four musicians in their sleeve notes, so it's entirely possible that live they're a less claustrophobic listen. Find out November 1st at the Parlor, or the 12th at Headhunter's.