Tex-Mex Memories: Good for What Ales You!

Claim to fame: If you look close, you can
see my band, Billy Midnight, listed
on the bottom, left column.

A few weeks ago, Adam and I were deep in the rabbit hole. After exhausting afternoons at school we like to challenge each other's knowledge of fabulous music. On this particular afternoon, we were planning an idea for a co-hosted radio show on WMPG (the local community radio station in Portland). The idea was rooted in making musical connections. Cosmic Connections. "We could base a whole show around one band and then dig into their connections!"
"Like the Byrds," I proclaimed. "A whole show exploring their country-rock connections."
"Fairport Convention," Adam responded.
"Yes!" I opined.
Then Adam mentioned, "Have you heard the Sir Douglas Quintet? You've got to check them out. That's a musical root right there! Classic Tex-Mex." They sounded familiar, but I was drawing a blank.

Of course, I ran home and did my homework. I checked out a few albums and then realized I'd stumbled onto something that provided a basis for a deep musical connection which I'd established years ago.

In 2009, my band, Billy Midnight, had played a musical event: Smokin' In The Park (in San Diego, CA). It was an outdoor festival based around roots music and BBQ. Sure enough, we shared the stage with Los Lobos and the Texas Tornados! Doug Sahm (of Sir Douglas Quintet) was one of the founding Tornados (along with Flaco Jimenez, Freddie Fender and Auggie Meyers). Unfortunately, Doug Sahm passed away in '99. When we played with the Tornados, his son (Shawn) was fronting the band. Anyhow, we met the band backstage with Los Lobos and basked in glory. It was a night I'll never forget. I'll always remember catching a glimpse of David Hidalgo (of Los Lobos) sitting on a couch with Flaco Jimenez, engaged in a deep conversation. It was like sneaking a peek of Socrates and Plato in the agora of Ancient Athens. Kind of.

Anyhow, I've been listening to this tune all week. Sarah has now asked me to stop playing it at breakfast (despite its catchy refrain). I couldn't find the Tornados recording (it's on my playlist, if you like). This version with Flaco is classic. ¡Órale!

The Roots of the Texas Tornados

Sarah thinks his lambchops are disgusting. I think Doug Sahm is my new hero.

Nova Scotian Ukelele? Yes!

 I recently found this husband/wife duo by God knows what manner. Isn't the Internet wonderful for warping time and space and landing in unexpected places? Anyhow, they're Canadian (from Nova Scotia, to be exact) and they play an interesting blend of folk, old time, bluegrass, etc. The distinguishing characteristic of their music is the ukelele, which could easily be mistaken for a strange mandolin by most pedestrians. James Hill plays it really well. This cut, Ode To A Frozen Boot sounds good on a mid-February evening as we prepare for more snow, here in Maine (and probably Nova Scotia). Hill's fast picking and Anne Davison's pounding bass are deliciously frosty and crisp. Lighthearted and worth a listen as you drive, walk or bike to buy groceries.

Feeling Like An Older Guy Tonight

I'm feeling like an older guy tonight. Yesterday, a kid at school said, "Are you a dad?" I responded, "Well, yeah. Why?" He snickered, "Because you've got that dad sense of humor. You know, like dad jokes. They're always..." He tilted his head and gave this goofy look. I sipped my coffee and walked away perplexed. No. Not me. Not dad jokes.

On a musical note: I always loved the second Flying Burrito Brothers album (Burrito Deluxe) more than the first. I guess I'm a sucker for the uptempo numbers like Lazy Day, High Fashion Queen, If You Gotta Go and this one, Older Guys. Watch this cryptic video of the Burrito Boys cruising the coast of Los Angeles County and try not to do the following:
1) Giggle.
2) Guess who Gram Parsons had just been hanging out with in France while they recorded Exile on Main St.
3) Feel second-hand embarrassment for Chris Hillman as his head pops out the hatch.

Here's to the older guys. Gram, Chris and me.

Further Tales From The Great White North: Les Hay Babies (New Brunswick)

Queens of the Maritimes music scene

Since moving to Maine, I've discovered a new world of Acadian and Quebecois music. Les Hay Babies blew me away the first time I discovered their debut EP, Folio. It became my road trip album of the summer as I drove back and forth between Old Town and Portland for meetings.

Their music is stripped down and raw. It is both evergreen and deciduous. Banjo, guitar, mandolin and three part harmonies. They sing in French, English and a hybrid Acadian dialect, Chiac. One of these days I'll catch them as they swing down through the Northeast U.S. on a tour. Or maybe I'll take a road trip to Moncton and see them play to a hometown crowd.

In this clip, from some French Canadian TV show, they've got special musical accompaniment. The dude on the snare and the movie star, shaking the shakers, are NOT in the band. The band is the three ladies who look like Annie Oakley in the middle of the stage. C'est avec beaucoup d'enthousiasme et de passion que je vous présente... Les Hay Babies!



Here they are in a stripped down, elevator performance. Horse On Fire is my second favorite tune on the album.

Sounds of the Great White North

Whitehorse first came to my attention by way of my wife, Sarah. She'd heard them playing live on Q with Jian Ghomeshi. She's got a damn fine ear for songwriting and talent. They played this hauntingly romantic cover of Springsteen's "I'm On Fire." We immediately bought their self-titled debut and have since then nearly burned the ones and zeroes off of the CD. It's a great road record. Luke Doucet and Melissa McClelland are one of those rare duos who not only write, perform and record music together, but they're a couple too. You can hear it in the harmonies. They've got a deep soul connection. But it's not all golden prairies and savory poutine for this Canadian group. Their music has a bittersweet, dark edge. They've got the essence of Gram Parsons and Emmy Lou Harris all wrapped up with the aesthetics of Calexico (especially on their latest album). Virtually unknown amongst most Americans that I know, Whitehorse are heralded throughout Canada. They've won at the Canadian Folk Music Awards and other national events, plus they've been runners up in the Polaris Music Prize. 

I especially love this song, Broken. It was originally recorded on Doucet's solo album, Broken (and Other Rogue States). While the original is solid, the addition of McClelland's vocals evolve the song to its highest form. Best lyrics: "You can have all your records back. I'll take Let It Bleed. You take Blood On The Tracks." Who can't relate to this harrowing decision? Enjoy Whitehorse. Tell your friends and family about them.

Deep Byrds Jams

At this point in the Byrds' career (1970), Roger McGuinn had lead his fans through so many musical twists and turns (folk, pop, psych, country)... and all in the expanse of 6 years. Bands don't change this radically anymore. I can't imagine who was showing up for a Byrds concert in 1970. But if they did show up, they must have had their mynds blown with this nearly 10 minute instrumental version of Eight Miles High. The dude at 7:40 is channeling a proto-David Byrne dance. I believe some people in the audience might be using mind-altering substances. Possibly.

Early 90s Country Rock

On a night like tonight, as we approach the weekend, I want to start a band. I want the band to play stripped down cosmic american music with sloppy guitars, drunk fiddles and stomping drums. I want the band to sound like Uncle Tupelo in 1993. "Give Back The  Key To My Heart" is a Doug Sahm song. He sang on the second verse. Billy Midnight covered this song for awhile when Jason Hee was in the group. I love singing the harmony with Billy. This song always felt so good at the Ould Sod around 12:30am. A drunk anthem for sure.

Heard a rumor that somebody might be recording an album sometime soon. Heard a rumor that he might want me to play drums. That sounds so good to me right now.

Byrds Connektions: Rainmaker

Digging into my Cosmic American roots this week. If you pick any single person who played in the Byrds, it's a sure way to find some hidden country-rock nuggets. It's also a great way to discover band/musician connections that you never knew existed. Herb Pedersen (although never an official Byrd) definitely earns his honorary wyngs for his musical associations. He performed alongside Gram Parsons and later joined forces with Chris Hillman in the Desert Rose Band.

Here's a sample of his earlier output with the Dillards. I love the funky drums and bassline. This is one for the folks out in California. May the Rainmaker bust a hole in that high pressure ridge and bring ya'll some precipitation.

Delaney & Bonnie: Comin' Home for the Weekend

Just a little Southern fried, bluesy, soul rock for the start of the weekend. Check out this married couple's 1972 album, D&B Together. They definitely showed Clapton a thing or two about groove. Diggin' it.

The 90s B-List: Bad Reputation

Sarah and I don't often have memories of listening to the same music in high school or college. Our experiences are separated by nearly 6 years. I was surprised tonight when I played Bad Reputation and she sang along. She acquired a copy of the tape from her high school English teacher. I like imagining a 15 year old Sarah Emerson, listening to this tape on her Walkman and walking along Bennoch Rd.

Freedy Johnston nailed it with this sweetly somber song. "Suddenly I'm on the street. Seven years disappear below my feet. Do you want me now?"

Drawn Back To Droge

Digging deeper into this first Pete Droge album (Necktie Second) and discovering some subtle gems. Straylin Street. There's something so stripped down and plain about Droge (his songwriting and arrangements). I love his voice. It's this lugubrious, soulful version of Jakob Dylan or Nash Kato from Urge Overkill. He never fully unleashes his emotion. There's this reserved quality to it. Never a sustained chorus. Just these dark, staccato phrasings. Straylin Street has that slowed down 4/4 groove with a conga line that sounds good on a Sunday night as you sip your favorite IPA. Enjoy, friends.

Pete Droge – Straylin Street

Beachwood Sparks: A Reunion That I Missed

When Beachwood Sparks sauntered onto the indie-country, psych-americana, buffalo hipsterfield scene at the turn of the millenium, I was drawn into their first two albums. One glimpse of their H Bar C shirts and Poco-like album covers and I knew that they were kindred spirits, steeping themselves in Flying Burrito hot sauce and Byrds psychedelia. My own band, Billy Midnight, was striving for a similar vibe. I caught them twice on their Once We Were Trees tour. Their show at the Casbah blew me away. Never had I seen a band play a lap steel with that much echo and reverb. It made me feel like I was floating. Later, I saw them play Cafe Du Nord in San Francisco. I had the opportunity to talk with Christopher Gunst, lead singer, who was a nice guy. Beachwood Sparks were down to earth and sincere about reproducing that Cosmic American sound from the early 70s. They were young guys trying to sound like old guys and they did it well.

Recently, I was spiraling through the Web and discovered that they had reunited in 2012 for a final(?) album, appropriately titled The Tarnished Gold. Now they actually look like old guys trying to sound like young guys making old guys' music. The results are very satisfying. In the midst of my first New England winter, The Tarnished Gold delivers a hazy, dusty, golden, coastal sound that is extremely heartwarming. The song I've chosen for my playlist is titled Forget The Song. It's a hyper-nostalgic, melancholic tune about putting an end to the smoldering past. It is Cosmic American perfection.

"It's time to stop pretending Those days, those days are gone It's time to stop wishing for endings Those old wounds have turned into scars Forget the song that I've been singing Lay down the way that I've been holding Hope that spring melts the winter in my heart"
 

The Boss Resurrects Some Obscure Tunes On His Latest

Springsteen's latest album, High Hopes, contains two covers that he's been kicking around for awhile (live and studio demos). The first, High Hopes, comes from some 90s L.A. band, The Havalinas. The Boss didn't do much to revamp this tune. It's grown on me after repeated listens, though. The Havalinas seem like a straight ahead rock band with an image problem that got marketed like an "alternative band." They're Janes Addiction-like and Suicidal Tendencies-ish in appearance. I can't figure out their sound. The drums and shout-along chorus are winners.

The next track, Dream Baby Dream, hails from the NY electronic proto-punk group, Suicide. Their version is ironic and chilling. Springsteen took all of the hipster out of it and turned it into a sincere anthem for post-apocalypse America. In a recent interview he explained that he tried to bring back Roy Orbison's zombie with his vocals.

Every Droge Has Its Thorns

After discovering the earnest joy of Pete Droge's music, I found a used copy of the Beautiful Girls soundtrack just so I could play his song, Beautiful Girl, a hundred times. By the time I get to the second chorus, I get lost in this bittersweet feeling of nostalgia that I just want to inflict on myself over and over again. So I do. Last night, I discovered this one-off from a Pete Droge collaboration with Matthew Sweet and Shawn Mullins. In 2002 they recorded this sunshiny, CSN-inspired, album, The Thorns. Beautiful harmonies. This song, Runaway Feeling, is probably as good as anything on the record. Some of the tracks are buried in production and perhaps too many vocal harmonies. I prefer the leaner production of Droge's Necktie Second album. This lead track from The Thorns is stripped down and sweet. It's more Sweet than Droge. But sustainably sugary nonetheless. Great stuff to play while in the midst of a polar vortex.

Feelin' The Droge

I remember a time in my childhood when my Mom would hear an old rock or Motown hit from the 60s and get all nostalgic. She'd sing a few lines from the chorus and then say, "It's been so long. I can't remember the rest of the words." A subtle smile would appear and thoughts, invisible to my novice perception, would parade in her head, hiding behind Carrera aviator sunglasses.

I get it now. That's how I feel when I hear certain songs from the 90s. That's how I feel when I hear Pete Droge sing Beautiful Girl (a song featured on the Beautiful Girls soundtrack). I never listened to Droge in the 90s. My nostalgia for his music is a what if scenario. What if I had been me (as I am now) with all of my strange musical tastes and experiences in the mid-90s? I would've like Pete Droge. He's the Seattle answer to Tom Petty. He's a secret admirer of country-rock and Gram Parsons.

I'm feelin' the Droge.


P.S. A special thanks to Buzzy Dudley for posting some pics from a mid-90s Pete Droge concert at Tower Records. This was the catalyst for my nostalgia implant.