Chewing Pine

Green River – “Ain’t Nothing To Do Green River” (Video)

Granted, outta the first wave (or two) of Cleveland punk bands, the Dead Boys haven’t aged all that well. But Green River was able to take a Clevo punk standard and turn it into one of its only truly good songs…Too bad Mark Arm doesn’ think enough of Clevo bands to mention them mid-set when his band covers ‘em…whatever…

The Dutchess & The Duke @ Union Park (07.18.09)

These guys still rule. The new disc isn’t quite as enduring as the first one, but it still makes me feel alright.

Sub Pop Sampler

It’s inarguable that of late Sub Pop is hit and miss. Free music, though, is free music. And even if Grand Archives and Flight of the Concords should be wiped from existence, the Vaselines and Mark Sultan kinda rule…

Tracklisting:
01 – Vetiver – Strictly Rule
02 – Handsome Furs – I’m Confused
03 – Mark Sultan – Hold On
04 – Red Red Meat – Gauze
05 – Obits – Pine On
06 – The Vaselines – Son of a Gun
07 – Fleet Foxes – Mykonos
08 – Iron and Wine – Belated Promise Ring
09 – Tiny Vipers – Dreamer
10 – Zak Sally – Why We Hide
11 – Fruit Bats – My Unusual Friend
12 – Pissed Jeans – False Jesii Part 2
13 – Grand Archives – Silver Among the Gold
14 – Flight of the Conchords – Hurt Feelings

BLOGLOAD: Sub Pop Sampler

The Intelligence: If It’s Already Been Done…

Deuteronomy was all discombobulated and I liked it that way. Fake Surfers seems to have calmed down a bit. But check the write up at x Osmosis.

BLOGLOAD: If It’s Already Been Done…

Common Market x Escaping Arkham

At some point Seattle’s gonna get recognition for all the hip hop comin’ outta there. Soon…soon.

“Escaping Arkham” got dropped off this morning and presages the release of Common Market’s The Winter’s End EP, which will be available at better internets near you on March 31st. And if you happen to be in Austen during the next week, you can catch the Northerwesterners along side Digable Planets.

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The Dutchess & The Duke – She’s the Dutchess, He’s the Duke (Hardly Art, 2008)

(This originally appeared in Skyscraper)

This debut pretty much has it all. Simple melodies and percussion, ample guitar work and vocals that are friendly enough that one might be able to hear them emanating from your friends’ kitchen. The perverse, self-aggrandizement that tails ‘indie’ releases, and Seattle in general, is auspiciously absent from this work. After producing a single with Boom Boom, those at Hardly Art saw fit to lend their NW peers services of their imprint to release this disc. From the chimes of the first chords on “Reservoir Park” to the hand claps latter found in the song, the ability of this group to simply say what they believe to be true and wrap that concept in a seemingly digestible acoustic pop song is pretty staggering. Along the way, the two principal characters, Kimberly Morrison and Jesse Lortz, evoke everything from fortune tellers to gypsies to chains in a folk-tradition that perhaps they don’t strictly fit into, but surely appreciate. At some points, perpetuating this folk affiliation, the voice of Lortz can recall Leonard Cohen in its deadpan expansiveness on “Ship Made of Stone” or even Lou Reed on “Back to Me”. But the remarkable thing is how the pair’s vocals can summon either Simon and Garfunkel or Exene and John Doe. That’s a lot of ground to cover. And they do it in 10 songs.

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Tracklisting:
01 – Reservoir Park
02 – Out of Time
03 – Ship Made of Stone
04 – Strangers
05 – The Prisoner
06 – Back To Me
07 – Mary
08 – You Can Tell the Truth, Now
09 – I Am Just a Ghost
10 – Armageddon Song

The Wally Shoup Qtet: Drawn Apart

A musician must find his space in the world. Some are satisfied in one spot. Some feel an inclination to move around, to ramble. But these experiences affect their playing. During this tumult, the innate human endeavor to find companionship presents itself as a doubly difficult task for musicians. In addition to finding a mate to live with and not want to fight, a musical mate must also be sought. In some ways this might be a more difficult task than finding love. No, you don’t have to live in close proximity or even in the same city, but communication, interaction and understanding is still tantamount to success. With the various outlets for free music, a strain proffered by Coltrane and his disciples, Seattle services not just Bumbershoot. Seattle Improvised Music, the various ‘burbs and Anacortes Jazz gatherings as well as the Earshot Festival provide release for local and national jazz players. Since 1918 and the Grand Benefit Ball, hosted by the NAACP, featuring Miss Lillian Smith’s Jazz Band, Seattle fosters those who traverse the jazz idiom. Coming from various corners of the country and the state, the Wally Shoup Quartet stands as one of Seattle’s most forward looking ensembles. The European influence of Gust Burns on piano, polyrhythmic infatuations manifesting themselves in the appendages of Greg Campbell, East Coast assuredness come North West self reliance in the round tones of Ruben Radding’s bass and Wally Shoup’s unnerving energy create an unequalled squalling and beautiful mess of sound. Too bad everyone doesn’t call the same place home any longer. The two main rovers of the group, Radding and Shoup have called enough different cities home to lose count. Something led both of these men here and something separated them as well.

Though more than a decade earlier than bassist Ruben Radding, Wally Shoup began exploring the noises he was able to coax from a sax in the early seventies. It seems the time that he chose to begin playing allowed him the fortunate opportunity of discovering music during an era when musicians were still able to amass label support for bizarre endeavors. Beefheart was between the enigmatic Trout Mask Replica and Lick My Decals Off, Baby. And while Coltrane had exited this world to the next, his disciples raged into the following decade with Pharaoh Sanders releasing Thembi and Village of the Pharaohs. This was the musical backdrop in which Shoup “began practicing daily” and “exploring the intricacies of the instrument”. The search was on for same-thinking players. And early enough a musical partner was proffered in Ross Rabin. Together these two, along with Keith Gardner would release Scree-Run Waltz in the early ‘80s.

As a resultant effect of recording and self-releasing Scree-Run Waltz, a twenty something noise advocate from New York began following the career of Wally Shoup. This personage, Thurston Moore, who would become acclaimed and captivate the ears of slackers across the country, would not be a consistent collaborator. Eventually, another New Yorker would. For a time at least.

At about this same time as this tape only release, in our nations’ capitol a young Radding was exercising his musicality within the “intensely serious” band, Age of Consent, before moving on to play with Dave Grohl in Dain Bramage. Each act was on the effete side of Punk, falling into the unfortunately named New Wave category.

While a Grohl collaborator, Radding, prompted to an encore in 1987, improvised a song after running through the entirety of the Dain Bramage cannon.

“All agreed that it was excellent,” Radding expounded, “but the others in the band refused to ever do it again!” Perhaps due to the uncertainty of the outcome, Radding’s band mates relegated him to servitude under others’ constructed musical writings.

Even if Shoup was a bit antiquated for what was ‘70s punk, Radding grew up amidst the flood of D.C. hardcore bands and in one way or another absorbed some of the attitudes that punk glorified: “anti-consumerism, self-determination and lack of aesthetic rules”. Championing those ideas was and will continue to coalesce scenes. But free-jazz or improvisers are still only figuring out how to take advantage of the market that still buys Sun Ship or Bap-Tizum. Radding observes that “nowadays the musicians in the jazz world are catching up with where we were 25 years ago, starting their own record labels, booking their own tours. Any music that doesn’t get much corporate or mass audience support is going to operate this way, with the artists and hardcore enthusiasts taking matters into their own hands.” No one can argue this point. And in a round about way, Shoup and Radding think the same thing, express it differently verbally and similarly musically.

Of the many avenues Shoup uses as a creative release, his website plays host to a few of his writings on music. In one essay he describes the relation between Punk and Free-Jazz. It’s interesting to note that he differentiates the Sex Pistols, the Damned and other assorted groups, as Punk Rock, not as Punk. Beefheart, he postulates, is Punk. And while that’s hard to argue, Beefheart was also a number of other things and is now a recluse. Ostensibly, the root of what Shoup seeks to uncover is the lack of precedent for tracing a music backwards. Beefheart was punk. There was not an antecedent. For that matter Zappa or Syd Barrett can be referred to as punk because what they did was an aural fuck all. The British Punk faire he mentions is criticized for substituting posturing for musical proclivity. Punk, in its most obvious form will keep the basic above ground musical tenets, which Shoup identifies as having a “keeper of the beat, player of the right notes at the right time in the right way.” The point he misses is that, Beefheart may have created a stirring racket that any listener in the ‘60s or ‘70s found alluring and subversive, but he never barked the lines “Fuck this and fuck that/Fuck it all and fuck a fucking brat” as Johnny Rotten did.

Radding’s musical experiences were enough prodding to transplant himself from D.C. to New York where his life became “about sitting alone in a room with a keyboard, which I don’t play worth a damn, scribbling dots and lines on paper, which no one would ever hear,” he sarcastically recalls. The scholarly approach to music was not an advantageous one to Radding. Luckily, while working in a bookstore, he discovered Anthony Braxton. His playing was changed irrevocably.

Finding that his experiences in D.C. and New York had taken their course and after a brief layover in Missoula, Radding made it to Seattle in the spring of 1997. Burnt out from travel and his musical endeavors, Radding sought a break from action and settled in the North West. Bereft of his dormant musical inclinations, Radding eventually sought out solace in improvising, finding Shoup and his musical brethren.

Discovering a complimentary player is perpetually difficult. Add to that fact, that the form is non existent and this compounds the problem. Enough similarities existed in style and concept that Shoup immediately knew he “found a great player” after musically conversing with Radding. The immediacy and rhythmic irregularities, which in this music stand for regularity, endeared Radding to Shoup and countless other groups that he has played with. The bassist explains this by supposing, “I have a tendency in my playing to imply form and others pick up on that.” Even amidst the maelstrom of sound Radding’s bass techniques manage to collect any ensembles thoughts and terrestrialize other players’ warblings.

“I don’t define the music material as much as I define how it will be shaped and developed,” figures Radding.

Coming from New York, coincidentally an incubator for Free Jazz and Punk, Radding possessed a different perspective and had different experiences, like being involved with the precursor of the now defunct club Tonic. “The jazz scene was shockingly conservative,” Radding recalls about Seattle upon his arrival. “The Jazz scene and the Free Improv communities were not as integrated as they were in NY,” he continued via e-mail. Since leaving the North West and venturing back to Brooklyn, which he calls the “center of this music”, Radding has played with a variety of groups ranging in sound from Klezmer back to more Jazz oriented ensembles. “I prefer to be in New York for many reasons, the pool of talent, the diversity, the challenges.”

The Quartet of Shoup, Radding, Burns and Campbell gave Seattle an improv group that equals the progressive tag that Seattle has acquired. Although Radding now calls the East Coast home, the group has recorded and released an album entitled The Levitation Shuffle. The settings that the band creates for Shoup’s horn become familiar, allowing conversations between players to develop. At once the band can be caterwauling and the next moment, Shoup drops out and development amongst three musicians ensues. Suppressed and quiet explorations without a leader provide needed breaks from louder actions and serve to punctuate Shoup’s re-entry into the fold. There is a hint of David Thomas (Pere Ubu), who might be considered a punk himself, in Shoup’s horn work. Much like the vocal entanglements Thomas ensnared himself in, Burns and Shoup frequently arouse imagery of family infighting replete with emotional outbursts. The Quartet, and its recording, question what can and should be considered proper playing. It challenges the listener to not only appreciate the sounds that they hear, but to make it through the recording and view the distinctive tracks as a single entity. The Wally Shoup Quartet was a single entity, briefly. Now only chance circumstances reunite them.

Zs: Live at the Comet Tavern (Seattle, 08.07.08)

Zs is in a constant state of flux and their music aptly represents it. Beginning with the ‘05 disc Karate Bump, the purely instrumental group struck out beyond math rock and whatever other variation or sub genre one would care to construct. Incorporating flamboyant compositions into a group that might listen to as much Mission of Burma as Albert Ayler, it yielded the ‘07 release of Arms. The compositions were staggeringly complex as on previous efforts, but the release was bolstered by a newly recognized penchant for vocals. A bit shocking at first, but the group’s ability to lock into complicated timings and progressions so far superseded any potential criticisms – in the end the change was charming.

Their latest release, the Hard EP on Three One G showcases the newest configuration of the band: Sam Hillmer (saxophone), Ben Greenberg (guitar), and Ian Antonio (drums). At the Comet, Greenberg’s clear guitar may have hinted at the Flamin’ Groovies classic Teenage Head while Antonio’s set, lacking cymbals but sporting electronics pointed towards electronica. The squall of the next thirty minutes was unpredictable.

In past performances, with two or more additional members, the interplay of the group depended on the swell of each player locking in step with one another to create a tremendous layer of repetitive figures. Lacking an additional guitar and saxophone suggested that Zs’ sound could become thin, not necessarily less cacophonous, but not as dense and full.

But the trio burst forth with noise, playing their set ceaselessly. Hillmer performed with a music stand slightly off to his left, but Greenberg and Antonio seemed to fall into a sort of swaying musical trance as their bodies reflected the variegated sections of the composition. If there was a break for applause, there would have been a great deal, but at every turn that seemed like some summation to a musical statement, there was more. Watching Antonio stretch prior the band beginning made sense. In addition to the vast mental stamina put into writing this piece, the endurance required for such a performance seemed tantamount to running a marathon. It was more than appropriate for each member of the trio to be seated.

The only disappointing aspect of the evening was that crowd which formed for the local acts filtered out to smoke cigarettes, mill around with their pals and ostensibly ignored Zs. The ten or so attentive fanboys – and the one young woman who somehow figured dancing was a good idea – were privy to a performance that seemed out of place at the Comet. Where was the Seattle avant-jazz crew? Why wasn’t this show sought out by the folks that book the Chapel (no, not the bar in Capitol Hill, the venue in Wallingford) or Gallery 1412? Perhaps there’s an answer and maybe we’ll find out if Zs visits the NW again. Maybe.

Read more at Skyscraper.

Sod the Block Party: Here’s Bill Frisell

Sound Stylee.

The Wrath of Khan: King Khan at the Tractor

On the inter-web.