Farfetcher

Joy Mills - Echolocator

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Wed, 13 May 2020 11:43:00 -0700

“How many slams in an old screen door? Depends how loud you shut it. How many slices in a bread? Depends how thin you cut it. How much good inside a day? Depends how good you live ’em. How much love inside a friend? Depends how much you give ’em.”
– Shel Silverstein

The story of the Joy Mills band is a story of friendships. The kind of friendships that only people who have been through a pile of shit together understand, built painstakingly through years of backyard barbecues, van tours, gazebo park gigs, stoned fights … and losses - of friends, wives, lives, and dogs. Heartaches and hurts, trials and triumphs. No amount of screaming “fuck you” across the yard could end these friendships. Atomic friendships.

It’s also the story of drinking way too much whiskey. I mean legendary amounts of whiskey. And other things.

But. The whole time, there was music. You know how it seems like all your friends do the same things you do? Well. Amongst our friends every fucking body plays the guitar apparently, and has a song to break your heart with, or make you spit up your bootleg laughing. Joy Mills is the center of this circle.

The first electron, orbiting the proton that is Joy, is Earl Thomas Parker. He’s a rock. I’ve seen him play guitar, harmonica, banjo, mandolin, piano, drums, dobro, shaker, pan flute, pool, and of course in this incarnation of the band he’s on bass. But, the most important thing about Tom, is that when he sings harmony, you sound better. He can blend with anyone, and even when he could just sing it better himself, he’ll find your vibe and build it stronger. Tom and Joy met at an open mic series in Wallingford in 2000 and after after a date-ish show at the Wit’s End in Fremont, they pretty much stuck together. Ionically.

They made 3 records as The Starlings. They’ve released 4 as the Joy Mills Band. The current covalent orbiters are the magnetic-if-aloof Mike McDermott on drums, galvanic feel-monster Jack Quick on keys, and the quantum capacitor that is Lucien LaMotte on pedal steel and lead guitar. The sound is clean and modern, vocals front and center. An eclectic set of influences keeps things interesting - singer songwriters like Jenny Lewis or Sharon Van Etten, twangy southern rock, classics like Supertramp and The Police. The rhythm section is no-frills straight ahead, and the atmosphere and vibe comes from the versatile lead guitar and the satisfyingly playful keyboards.

Everyone drinks less whiskey now. Time has a way of balancing the spirits to music ratio. The music endures. As Joy sings in “My Favorite Stone” - “You can count on me. You can count on my Rock n Roll.” Never has a truer word been spoken.

Joy Mill’s latest album “Echolocator” is available here -

https://joymills.bandcamp.com

Julian Martlew

November, 2019

Quarantine

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Mon, 13 Apr 2020 16:51:00 -0700

Sun is shining. The weather is sweet. Make you wanna move. Your dancing feet.

Except do it 6 feet apart please.

This is a place holder, perhaps a new beginning. Words must be used or they lose meaning.

Love
J

Pat Graney @ OTB

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Fri, 2 Oct 2015 17:18:00 -0700

Girl Gods. These dancers really are.

Caspar Babypants

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Tue, 14 Jan 2014 10:40:00 -0800

Baby Beatles! Chris Ballew is one of the coolest rock stars in America, Seattle is lucky to claim him as ours. He has put out a new Caspar Babypants record - called Baby Beatles! He really put some time in figuring out how to take the most awesome fun Beatles songs and make them even more fun and kid friendly. Really though, as usual this record is as much for "grown-ups." Also it sounds fantastic. Also you get more Seattle genius - Fysah Thomas, Rachel Flotard, Jen Wood each sing on a few songs in the 20 song set.

Go HERE to see the official website.

The Art of the Youtube Cover

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Thu, 25 Apr 2013 15:11:00 -0700

You may have seen these before. I realize I am 1/2 the time early to things, and then the other half of the time I'm late to them. Still - there is a certain kind of charm to the video cover posted on youtube, and the best combine the webcam lofi diy just having fun thing, with the holy crap that's actually pretty good feeling. Try these 4 -

Karmin

Nicki Bluhm

Jake Barker

Pentatonix

Delta Rae

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Sat, 16 Mar 2013 23:53:00 -0700

Well. South by Southwest always causes a few new bands to pop up on my radar, and I can't help peeking when someone is from my old home town (at least they claim it) of Durham (rhymes with worm), North Carolina. The little town that has it all, you just have to know. So. Delta Rae. Not my usual cup of tea, and I'm slow to warm to some of the songs. But. There is some voodoo going on here, the holy shit factor. Excitement. Of course it turns out its major label, and that is their story on their own sites. Whatever. Brittany Hölljes is one of those singers. Of course, there's a sexy factor, and I know I'm not immune to that. But, if only I hear the voice, without the pictures, its still EXCITING. In real life you get both. Check this out...

No? OK Try this -

That's at least half as cool as Trailerbride, and I'd love to see these guys and the Alabama Shakes on a bill.

And this song for Marriage Equality.

Late to the party

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Tue, 12 Mar 2013 16:37:00 -0700

I know I'm late. Really late. But these are pretty fun...

Harlem Shake compilation

All the work I need.

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Sun, 29 Apr 2012 22:27:00 -0700

This is the busy time of year. Or was that last month? All I know is I look at the calendar and its like looking at the begats section of Matthew (or was it Luke?) In other words its full man. I'm tired and I don't really have a break until July. Oh woe is me. Only one thing for it - Dan Reeder. You may have heard the song on Weeds.

Listen here

Orchestra Hip Hop - Hip Hop Makers

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Sat, 28 Apr 2012 00:14:00 -0700

Really enjoyed this when I came across it, there is something really relaxing about hearing the beats I've heard a million times, but suddenly NOT loops.

Orchestra Hip Hop - Hip Hop Makers

Lindsay Fuller has a new record out :-)

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Thu, 5 Apr 2012 10:17:00 -0700

Those of you who read my review of The Last Light I See know that I'm a true believer. I've been containing my excitement about the new record You, Anniversary. You can check out tracks @ http://www.lindsayfuller.com/home/ or just go buy it on i-tunes or amazon. There is a little more fuzz on this one, and more diverse arrangements. Mainly though, the listener is treated to an intimate recording of one of the finest voices of our time. Ms Fuller continues her love affair with the English language, poetry - and the aching humanity of love, death, gods, bodies and blood. A special treat is the title track - a duet with Amy Ray, which gives me the chills every single time.

Fun bonus treat - from the Tractor Tavern in Seattle

Another duet

Go see Lindsay play. Now.

Guadalajara Airport

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Wed, 29 Feb 2012 00:12:00 -0800

Scribbled whilst waiting for a plane :

In the airport in Guadalajara, watching one of my favorite combinations of people.

There are full on cowboys - Vaqueros with clean hats, big leather belts, handle-bar mustaches, and snakeskin boots, craggy faces weatherbeaten.

Casual businessmen with nylon jackets atop crisply collard button-downs. Shoes are like the cowboy boots but without tops.

Families, los niños in bright oranges and pinks and blues, teens in super tight hip jeans or athletic gear and ball caps. Soft shoes, stylish but understated, like they are from Buenos Aires or Barcelona.

Old men with walking sticks.

Incredibly curvy women with heels adding danger, teetering, catchable if they fall?

Policemen and soldiers are more similar in GDL, both carrying bigger guns around than the average airport security in the US. Polished, poker faced.

As the announcements play en español and then english, loud and distorted over 4 inch JBLs I dream of a future when I am fluent. I'm resist the urge to use my phone until Houston, where the WiFi won't cost me 99 cents a minute. The advertising overhead is almost obscene in its incongruity - a blonde girl in skintight clothes showing a lot of skin and some impossibly expensive jewelry floats over the heads of paisans in denim and palm sombreros.

{Earlier I saw a sign on a catholic church for classes on the rhythm method of "family planning" next door to a bodega selling ice cold Corona and red hot Cosmopolitan covers to sunburnt gringos}

A man is selling paintings even here, in the airport - next to the duty free store peddling tequila and marlboros which cost more than his works of art.

This incongruity, the gap between have & have not, the English and the Spanish, the foreign and the local could really twist a man up. I do feel like a clumsy invader - maybe its the curse of having grown up in a tourist country watching the fat burnt people rudely ignoring the conservative vibe of the locals, drinking and wearing next to nothing in public. I don't want to be that guy. It would be a mistake though to just sit here feeling guilty (Black Gringo?!?) The people have as much agency as I.

So - I'm stealing a word from the english-spanish dictionary and making it mine. Instead of the turista feo, I will be a sabandija - a creepy crawly, a scuttling quiet wierdo, clever and happy in my strange skin, slowly finding my places and my place in the culture. Just like in Seattle...

Go here to watch the space in between (pun intended)
Teleritmo!

See you soon. Hasta luego

Sleep Deprivation

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Mon, 13 Feb 2012 15:36:00 -0800

This is an extremely dangerous thing. I am going to sleep now.

2012, and a new band for Farfetcher

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Wed, 1 Feb 2012 22:49:00 -0800

The new year caught me running, and this is the first time I'm stopping to scribble a bit. I had to let go of many of the bands, now I'm down to two regular ones and a few I'll play it if I can gigs. Still rolling with BC Campbell, who is mid recording and not playing out as much at the moment. Also excited to be playing with Shannon Stephen's - a wonderful singer I met at a gig. I'm enjoying the songwriting, and struggling along learning the parts from previous recordings - once again I find myself listening to Jeff Fielder (yup he's on the record!) and trying to get it right, though we play completely differently. The overlap is increasing though, I'm even playing some things only with fingers ha.

You can check out the band in the video at the end of the blog! Or go see the shows coming up -

2/2/12 on KBCS in Bellevue at 1pm - the show that was "lunch with folks" is now "Outskirts"
2/2/12 at Conor Byrne in Ballard (Seattle WA)
2/3/12 at Doe Bay http://www.doebay.com/ On Orcas Island in the San Juans - Whale up what!?
2/4/12 at the Old Foundry in Bellingham http://www.oldfoundry.org/

Here's a you tubey for youey

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Fri, 9 Dec 2011 23:10:00 -0800

I've been enjoying making the analogy between quitting smoking and making any kind of personal change in one's life. How so?

1. Its gonna hurt a bit. Panic may set in. Its uncomfortable. You just have to wait it out.
2. For me at least, I start to blame someone, for my state, or at least wonder what they will think if I give it up and start smoking again. Thus illuminated - the state of needing to learn self motivation, and self reinforcement. Do I want to quit or not? Do I want to change or not? Why am I looking outside for validation and judgment?
3. The habit rears its head. You reach for the soma, the pacifier, the drug, the safety. Its not there.
4. Replacement is useful, temporarily. As in, I'm staying drunk, until I don't want a smoke. Or I'm staying drunk until I start writing this blog again regularly.
5. I'm not that drunk.
6. It is much cheaper to not do things based on addiction and habit, not only financially, or healthwise, but mentally and lifewise too.
7. My mantra - there is time for what you do.

Backdoor Santa, Crooked and Wide

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Wed, 22 Dec 2010 21:49:00 -0800

Its been a while, sometimes life is what happens when you are waiting to do what you want to do…

I was on the Facebook wandering around and checked out a YouTube video posted by Steve Turner. It is Clarence Carter doing “Backdoor Santa” which is totally worth laughing at. The “Ho ho ho” kills me! Santa only comes once a year…

Anyhow, seeing Steve’s mug shot reminded me that it was about 9 years ago this time of year that I got to live the dream for a while, assistant engineering on the Mudhoney record Since We’ve Become Translucent. It is still making me smile now.

Rewind another 9 years and I am at Duke University, hollering “Touch me I’m sick!!!!” at the top of my lungs in the little smoky on-air room at WXDU FM, knowing that my dorm-mates (I’m looking at you Lee and Dan) are listening, and will probably call in a request for Mr Bungle any minute. We listened to Sound Garden, we listened to Nirvana, we listened to Metallica, but Mudhoney is special. Somehow it was the loudest sounding, the hardest, the energy just bursting out of the speakers. Like Iggy with the Stooges, or Black Flag it just made us want to destroy things and fight. Usually we just drank more and fell down, but the possibility was always there. I lost my voice screaming along with Mark Arm a few times.

I have to insert a little side note here - There was a little short New Yorker named Ray who had the show before me, and he had educated me into the more obscure punk records (yes actual vinyl) in the WXDU library. One of the bands he played for me (and I admit it was a struggle to get into) was Lubricated Goat. Yeah. Paddock of Love. Yeah!

So jump forward again, and I am sitting in Gravelvoice studio with the Audio Wizard Scott Colburn. Gravelvoice at the time was basically under the Aurora bridge, just down from the troll eating a Volkswagen in the center of the universe (otherwise known as Fremont). You walked past the glass blowing guys place, into the studio and to your right was the bigger tracking room, straight ahead the smaller one, which you walked through and left to get to the control room. Scott’s collection of weird shit everywhere. On the wall was an archtop guitar, maybe it was a Kay? It was completely unplayable, the strings were rusty, and if the word “action” describes how far from the fretboard strings are, these hovered above the neck so high, that the word “action” did not apply. There were many eyeballs. Residents fans anyone?

The mics are on, the band lays into the beginning of “Crooked and Wide” and through two walls, insulated walls, the bass punches me in the chest. Guy. From Lubricated Goat. Yeah!! It was so loud. I was cool though. I might have been grinning like the Cheshire, and attempting to dislocate my own neck when Dan’s drums got going, but I don’t think anyone noticed...

Until Mark started doing vocals. Luckily it was just me and Scott in the control room. I was useless. I just wanted to listen, and maybe cry. That voice! Scott, after the first take, calm and wise as always says - “Yeah, I think you could give that another try.” Me in my head - “WHAT???” Important to note we are tracking to analog tape here. New take means old take is gone. Forever. So Mark simply says “OK” and blows his first take out of the water. Me in my head – “Aaaaaaah! Good thing I kept my mouth shut.”

For some reason, during these sessions, and I can’t remember now who started it, we were eating large quantities of [brand name deleted] miniature orange chocolate chip cookies. How’s that for punk rock? Anyhow, we ran out. Break! We all leave, except for the Clarence Carter fan Steve.

9 minutes later, as we walk up to the door we hear this sweet ringing vibrato guitar. Clear as a bell, bluesy, just gorgeous. Mr Turner. On the freakin Kay.

When you go listen to Steve Turner’s hands on Crooked and Wide here please ignore the picture. Note Mark’s vibrato is pretty great too, but he’s playing through the Electric Mistress (that steely flange/chorus is so great!) so you can tell who’s who.

Merry Christmas folks, hopefully I’ll be writing a bit more again soon.

Too Early : Rusty Willoughby

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Sun, 26 Sep 2010 13:59:00 -0700

“In this world I’ve come to realize, you don’t want to get there too early”

I was lucky enough to record and mix an in-studio performance from Rusty Willoughby at KEXP last weekend, and since then I’ve been unable to get this song out of my head. That sounds a bit clichéd perhaps, but remember I mix a lot of songs, listening to them hundreds of times in a day, so its pretty rare that one breaks through that crowded part of my mind.

Rusty and the band – Barbara Hunter, Barrett Martin, Johnny Sangster, and Rachel Flotard were great to work with, funny and serious at the same time. This is my favorite kind of people to work with, they can really play, the craft is there, but there is still fun to be had playing music with each other. I had a blast just being in the room.

Size does matter - Sequoia National Forest

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Tue, 27 Jul 2010 15:27:00 -0700

It’s been a while since I posted, a lot has been going on! Anne and I went down to Sequoia National Forest for a vacation / road trip. I cannot recommend this enough if you have never been. We drove back up 101 and went through the redwoods too!

When you are young, maybe size doesn’t matter so much. Everything is amazing. New sneakers make you want to run. You bring spiders into the house to show your mom (that was hilarious Lori)! A big tree however is still just another part of the world. We watched little kids being much more fascinated by pine cones, or their gameboys, than “the biggest tree on earth!” Nevertheless, I’m here to tell you, that as a vaguely adult like person, a big tree has the power to make you believe in something, the power to make you feel like a kid again.

We set off from Seattle on a Friday and sure enough it was cold and grey. The latest summer arrival since we got out here in 1999. It wasn’t until we got to Oregon that the sun really showed up. We stopped in Portland and had lunch on Alberta Street, which I really dig. The houses and restaurants and shops are all in amongst each other, nary a chain in sight, and the mix of people is great too. Fish tacos. Nuff said.

We trekked on and made it to Ashland, though after dark, so we stayed there and wandered in the park by the river in the morning. I sat and practiced a little dobro and Anne took a walk, then we loaded up on coffee and headed for California.

Lunch at Terry and Denise’s Wayside Grill in Mount Shasta – I think I’ll be visiting this town any time there is driving instead of flying to CA. Love the mountain, its cooler despite the baking sun, because you are higher up. Read the Shasta Angels post to know my other reasons for loving it here.

Then comes the long farm stretch on I5. Redding, Sacramento, Stockton. Olives, sunflowers, nectarines, peaches, oranges, plenty of alfalfa. It is fun, and sunny. Then it is flat and long and hot. The shape of the hay bales did vary though. And there were cows, and goats, and llamas to point out. Still this is where the music selection gets to be the game, we started out with Lindsay Fuller’s CD - yes still no i-pod for me, I’m waiting for the i-phone to be AT&T free before I make the shift. Oh, and a lot more memory, because I do like uncompressed files too. You can interrupt your CD music with some great Latino country stations, though the accordion might wear you down. Also, the 1980’s are now “Oldies” so there was plenty of teen nostalgia music to try too.

Then we took a left after Stockton and took the 120 to 99. Same – little towns and farms everywhere. I mean OK there is Modesto. I’ll take Merced over Modesto or (god forbid) Fresno. The UC Merced campus is right on Main St, and this has infused the town with some friendly vibe.

When searching for a place to stop and stay a while, I think the criteria are as follows. A town you want to visit should have some trees. They should be alive. It helps if it is a town with a college. Look for a main street with a cluster of local stores and restaurants. There should be an independent paper, even small ones make a difference. Some sort of natural landmark is good – a mountain, a river, a lake, the worlds biggest potato, something. Where there are some tourists, there are people who make money selling them stuff, and the “you ain’t from around here” danger drops. I’m sure I’m forgetting something important?

In Fresno we thought about staying, but it was so bleak and post apocalyptic that we just kept driving. We would hit Merced on the way back after Sequioa. I just kept on plowing until Squaw Valley, which had that important thing I was forgetting – a place to sleep when its dark and you are tired, that is close to a place with beer. In the morning I got up and went and practiced outside until the flies got too aggressive. Off we went on 180, right into the forest. $20.00 gets you a week’s pass for both the King’s Canyon and the Sequoia parks. Feel free to pay more if you have it. Or just keep going back. Think about it, if you have a tent, that’s only 80 bucks a month rent?!

Big trees! It is impossible to describe the feeling in there, the smell of it. It is like the idyllic healthy land of fairytale forests. The trees are huge, and they block the sound. There are almost no loud bass sounds when you are in the trees, so it is just the breeze through leaves, and the animal and bird sounds. The trees are so big that pictures of them seem silly. Even panning up and down with the movie camera doesn’t do it justice.

Some of them are more than 250 feet tall, 20 feet in diameter. The scale does things to your sense of self. You remember how short life is. Some of these trees are coming up on their 3500^th birthday. The older you are in human years, I’m sure the greater the impact.

One of the best things done on this earth, was the establishment of the National Parks. The Sequoia groves are churches of nature. The coastal redwoods are a bit murkier, and I actually like the darker more threatening vibe too. The high Sierras are clean and clear vistas. The northern California and Southern Oregon coasts are gorgeous. If you can go, go. Maybe take the kids when they are a little older.

I feel as though breathing the scent of the incense cedars, the earthy musk of fallen giants, then the sun-warmed plains, then the salt and rock of the Pacific, has changed my life again. It is as if the air has altered me chemically. It is a very, very good feeling.

PS Lindsay Fuller @ Tractor

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Sat, 3 Jul 2010 15:54:00 -0700

Just a little note – Lindsay Fuller’s CD release show was wonderful, her mom had flown in to surprise her, she was a little overwhelmed it looked like. The show with the full band was great, I highly recommend going and seeing her. Mark Pickerel’s set was amazing too, his voice is so cool, its like Roy Orbison joined the Sisters of Mercy. It was pretty fun to see the Sangster v Fielder guitar slinger showdown too – there was some quality axe wielding, and a few good rock moves.

Tonight I’m playing at the Conor Byrne pub with Silverhands if you are looking for some twang rock for your 4^th of July warmup.

Shasta Angels

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Sat, 3 Jul 2010 15:44:00 -0700

“But what is this, what you have sought to learn from teachings and from teachers, and what they, who have taught you much, were still unable to teach you?” – Hermann Hesse

The quote above is from Siddhartha, which I read when I was a teenager. I probably ought to read it again, but one of the things I love about the books that really get you, is that you take some meaning from them, and it grows into its own thing. The book itself doesn’t matter as much as your own meaning; your own understanding that appears. I always wanted to take Siddhartha’s journey, to leave home in search of myself, and to return for the final part of the puzzle. This is one of the reasons that to this day, I love heading out on the road with a band. Every time, the music gets better. Every time something happens that changes me forever. BC and I had just played in Portland, slept the night in Beaverton, and we climbed into the car knowing this leg would be different, no friends, no family, and a new venue to play. California or bust!

It was a beautiful drive through Oregon, pausing in Ashland to take a little walk in the park, before continuing into Northern California. Roughly six hours later, BC and I arrived in Shasta with the sun still shining. Wherever we went in this gorgeous town, the mountain glared down at us. Big nature will do that, it reminds us that we are puny, unimportant, young, and arrogant.

We found our campsite for the evening first, almost by accident, we turned a corner and there it was. A friend had left the staff shed open for us at her plant nursery. Comfortable that we could navigate back after the gig, we headed out again to find the venue – the Wayside Grill. One missed turn put us back onto the freeway, but a loop around found us exactly where we were supposed to be.

The Wayside is a restaurant and bar, back deck, pizzas and burgers, wine menu, the whole bit. Outside in the parking lot, was a collection of California shiny-trucks (you can’t keep them that clean in Seattle) and a couple of Harley Davidsons. And one scooter, which was nice, as I was starting to get a little bit of an “uh oh!?” feeling. It just didn’t look like a music venue, and then even if it was, it didn’t look like the kind of place that would dig original songs. I knew it was all in my mind, but I was really not thinking we would have much fun.

We walked in, no guitars yet, just trying to get a feel of the deal. Sure enough the girl at the door station was not expecting a band, and when we asked for the booker she directed us instead at his wife Denise. She smiled and said “We were wondering if you guys were going to show up.” I wondered whether she was happy that we had, or if maybe she’d been hoping we would have bailed. Still she was smiling though. She went off to find her husband Terry. I wandered over to the little corner stage, half pacing, half just gauging the lay of the land.

There is one of those Bose PA systems, the one that looks like the base of a basketball hoop you put up in the street in the suburbs. There’s a couple of wireless mics on stands, a little board, and a guitar. There’s stuff up there like the other band is coming back later. Uh-Oh.

On the wall behind the stage, here it goes, there’s pictures see. Of musicians. Autographed no less. Bob Dylan (!), Lyle Lovett, Faith Hill, Brad Paisley. Note the general country music vibe, though Dylan always gives hope when you are a songwriter or a guy playing guitar with a songwriter. Still, I was thinking how this would feel totally different if it was a Silverhands gig, we could twang it up, maybe bust out some covers and do just fine. BC’s music is not in any way “country,” and my uh-oh was growing.

Terry came out and asked what he could do for us. “Food” said Brandt, like some sort of hungry musician. They laughed and got us set up with menus and then Terry came and sat with us, wine glass in hand. We acted like Americans and ordered burgers (mine with sweet potato fries.) The food was amazing by the way.

Terry Kincaid. The drive from Beaverton would have been worth it just to listen his stories. He is a songwriter, with gold records and movie credits. He played with Alabama. He’s opened for Waylon and Willie. He was a cop, a martial arts instructor, a motivational speaker. He plays harmonica and guitar. He once took Merle Haggard’s keys away to stop him from driving home drunk. Merle had driven his tour bus to the bar. This led to going fishing with Merle on Lake Shasta. He’s got a million more stories, and he tells them well.

It turns out Terry also has a restaurant called the Stagedoor Grill, down in Socorro, New Mexico. Musicians like to drop in and play with the band at either place. The Wayside has only been open for a few months, and he is traveling back and forth to keep both places rolling.

By this time our burgers are traveling south on gullet road, but all these stories are doing nothing for my sense that our music wasn’t going to down so smooth. But: food done, up we get and grab our gear. Up on stage, lets do what we do. People are eating with their families 5 feet away. There was big food, some big bellies, even some big hair. There are some leather vests. Nerves and all, we launch into the set, and amazingly, surprisingly, unbelievably, nobody cares. At all.

That’s right folks, no-one turns around and heckles, no-one gives us the stink-eye. Remember that scene in the Blues Brothers, at the bar where they play both kinds of music? That was what I was worried about. And I can actually play country and Western. But this, well, it was friendly is what it was. A few people smiled or tapped a foot, but no-one got really got into it. But mainly, they weren’t heading for the door either. Until they finished eating. Then they went home, because it was time to go home. Terry and Denise were listening, they moved to a closer table and hung out, talking to friends, being the king and queen of the restaurant as they should, but they clapped after every song.

We were shaky for sure, missed some changes, played some clams, but we did what we do. I started playing to BC, instead of the backs of diners and found my groove a bit. Then I suggested we throw in a cover BC does – Kris Kristofferson’s Lovin Her Was Easier (Than Anything I’ll Ever Do Again) and as soon as he hit the first chord, it was like Terry’s radar went off. He came up to the stage as we worked through the first verse and was rummaging through a box at the back of the stage. We are resisting the urge to stop and find out what is happening behind us, when Terry emerges triumphantly with the correct harmonica, we nod him in for a break and he plays beautifully, and there’s a round of applause at the end of the solo. The regulars are on our side now, and we get a few grins from the kitchen guys too. One guy is watching us through the pickup window when he can. Now it’s fun, so of course we immediately get to the end of the set, which in our case means we have basically run out of songs. We bow and start packing up fast, like the opening band on a big stage. Terry thinks we should play one more. We pull an obscure Willie Nelson cover out, that we learned for a tribute night at Conor Byrne (at which I actually was the singer, but BC has a good ear for lyrics and melody and remembered it). Shasta gets treated to Mr. Record Man and we don’t quite murder it, we just beat it up a bit and leave it to recover until someone else plays it right. End of show.

Terry thanks us, and I can tell he appreciates the music, and he likes us. We take a picture with him and Denise. They are the best! We are in love with the world, because we survived our own fear, and didn’t get punched by bikers. We get paid, which is nice, because gas is not free. (Side note – if you are in the business of building cars that run on sunlight, and you want some free advertising help, hook me up a tour van that seats 8 people and has room for a drum kit behind them, and I’ll drive it everywhere and preach the gospel of freedom from oil, and I’ll write you a jingle too.)

We head back to the nursery, and when we walk through the darkness to the shed, I now think that someone is going to materialize with a shotgun, or a large slavering dog is going to eat us. Instead we turn on the light and find only crickets and ants to deal with. Sweet! Jam session. We play a bit, and then turn in.

It turns out that the train track right next to the shed is the BNSF line. We weren’t really sleeping anyways, strange place, post show buzz and all that. Still – !whoo whooooooo! and then that choo choo was basically 20 feet east of us. It was Loud. It was awesome. Then, the strangest thing happened. You know that screeching sound a train makes when it rides over the transition from full rails to the rails going through the tarmac of a road? Well this train was going quite a bit faster than they usually are when they go through the city. That screeching from multiple cars all at the same time, at a higher rate of travel, turns out to sound like angels, actual angels from heaven.

Over the low rumble of the diesel and the sheer weight of all that steel rolling north, came seven tones alto to soprano, all slowly shifting pitch. It was as if a million wind chimes all sang at once, resonating in the hut, until I wondered if the sound was inside my head, perhaps I was asleep and this was a dream. “I don’t want to wake up,” I thought. Then the end of the train went by with one last wail of tortured steel against steel, echoing off the mountain. I was awake for sure, and absolutely present.

It brought tears to my eyes. This is why you go on the road. There are things out there waiting for you. Things your teachers cannot teach you. You have to experience it yourself to learn. Some of those things are frightening. Some of those things are your own demons in your mind - the unknown. But - some of those things are not hell-hounds, all hell breaking loose, or Hell’s angels. Sometimes good people will take care of you and listen to your songs. Sometimes there are real angels, and if you are really lucky, they will sing for you.

Last Thursday in Portland - Mini-tour Part1

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Tue, 29 Jun 2010 19:18:00 -0700

Wow – it has been really busy since the return from the mini-tour with BC Campbell. I have stories to tell, coming soon! Here is a little bit I wrote on the road, but never had a chance to post.

Friday 6/26/2010

Well it is Friday morning here in Beaverton at the Campbell household. It’s just after 8am and all is quiet except for the dog next door. I’m assuming that he is filling in for a rooster, or that indeed “things are not as they should be!” He is doing a fine job in either case.

It cooled off a bit from the glorious heat of yesterday, especially here in amongst the trees. It feels like the temperature is on the rise already though and it’s still above 70 in the house. I hope it gets hot again as today we will hit the road and head down I5 toward Shasta – California or bust! I’ve been told (thanks Hilary!) that jumping into Lake Shasta is a really good idea, especially when it’s hot.

Yesterday was hot. It was Last Thursday, so the festival was going on along Alberta Street. Artists, musicians, and the quickly multiplying Portland street food carts mingled with hippies and whatever you call those people who look like hippies but really are peddlers of cheap trinkets from Taiwan. There was a pair of kids with video cameras trying to shoot scenes for (I’m assuming) their upcoming feature. They decided we would be cool to have in the shot, or at least that is what I’m assuming since they kept on sneaking up on us like they were hunting wabbits. “Frick’n paparazzi!” I growled at them just to let them know they had no sneak. A kid oughta have some sneak.

BC and I played at the Alberta St Pub. It’s a cool little room with a decent sound system and plenty of places to sit. They have a layout where the bar is in the center of the building with its counter facing out to one side. The stage is on the other side of the dividing “wall” that is behind the bartender. So if you walk in the front door, to your left leads to the bar, to the right is the music room. There is a lot of sonic spill from one side to the other, mainly in the form of the jukebox being audible during the show, which opened with a quiet acoustic set from: -

Lizzie Lehman - She has a really good singing voice, and some cool original sounding chords thanks to some tricks with two capos. She said she has been writing songs for 6 years and playing music since she was little, but has really only just made the move from open mics to booking her own shows. The songs were young perhaps, but thoroughly enjoyable. Her accompanist (on Gibson Hummingbird no less) was technically proficient, and musically far too fussy and busy. Less noodle please. (I’m trying to take my own advice as I play with more songwriters, so I know it is hard.) It’s so much fun to pull out all your tricks and play all the time. But please. Less noodle.

We played second and managed to clear out the young ‘uns that had come to see Lizzie. I didn’t really believe they were of age, but I did just turn 39 on Wednesday, thus I am allowed for a couple of days to talk about how everyone under 30 looks … twelve. Remaining in the room to cheer us on were the Buoy LaRue folks and the family Campbell. By the end of the set it was filling up again and once Buoy was on, the room was solid. People actually cheered and clapped, and it was a lot of fun. Seattle audiences take note – clapping and cheering is fun!

Buoy LaRue closed it out. The band is Michael Herrman on guitar and vocals, in this case accompanied by Adam Hoornstra on viola and Will Amend on bass. We (yours truly and the quick-witted Campbells) pretty quickly identified the viola as “not a fiddle” since it was clearly being used more classically than folkyly. Yes folkyly. Well I’m not going to say “folksyly” am I? These guys can really play, and Michael is a pretty good storyteller, definitely check them out if you get a chance.

I’m off for coffee and breakfast, then we’ll pile in the car for the longish haul down to Mount Shasta. More to come…

Lindsay Fuller: The Last Light I See

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Mon, 21 Jun 2010 22:37:00 -0700

“The good lord he giveth, and then walks away”

I was lucky enough to catch a fine set by Lindsay Fuller at Conor Byrne last Saturday. She was accompanied by Jeff Fielder, on dobro and nylon string guitar, and Rebecca Young on bass. I scored a CD, Fuller’s 6th – The Last Light I See, and I’m listening to it now.

Fuller manages to combine literacy with story telling in a way that avoids burying the songs in “clever.” The lyrics are just better than yours - sorry. They have the difficult-to-achieve quality of being readable as poetry, without feeling heavy-handed or verbose. It takes an intrepid writer to take on Leonard Peltier’s incarceration (Big White Lie), to find a good rhyme for “Prometheus” (East Grand Exit), and to reference The Scarlet Letter (Trigger Happy). I am in awe of the integration between intelligence and song-craft.

How does she do it? It’s all in the delivery. Lindsay Fuller fulfills the promise of the lyrics, in a voice that already feels classic to me. There are hints of Lucinda Williams without the Texas, or Gillian Welch without the California, but really her voice is her own. She is intense, hurt, lonesome, angry, hungry, but - most importantly - she is believable.

The mood of the whole disc might be summed up by the quote above.

“The good lord he giveth and then walks away.” Beauty and love - the gifts of the gods perhaps - are here, but temporary. Blood and bone, the limitations of a hurting human body are here to stay. When you need them, these songs express the fight to survive, and the longing for joy inherent in our condition.

This record will be in heavy rotation here at the Farfetcher house.

About the players:

Along with Young and Fielder, Fuller is joined by Mark Pickerel on drums and Jason Staczek on keys. Phil Peterson and Aubrea Alford provide cello, viola, and violin. With production by Matt Brown and Jeff Fielder and a lush mix from Johnny Sangster, the disc has no fluff. It is all straightforward folk rock and uncluttered arrangements. Lindsay’s voice is front and center, and the focus is on the songs.

Mark Pickerel brings solidity and energy to the songs, whilst maintaining an orchestral approach. His big low voice can be heard on tracks 3,5 and 6 of The Last Light I See.

Rebecca Young displays equal facility with electric or upright bass, and a no-nonsense style – you get the right note, at the right time.

Jeff Fielder is now clearly a first call session musician and accompanist here in Seattle. His melodic approach, and multi-instrumental fluency complement Fuller’s voice, and add an emotional depth and color.

Jason Staczek is a composer and plays piano, Hammond organ and accordion. I’m sure 7 years making records as owner of Chroma sound didn’t hurt his musicality, or his sense for space, both of which come through on the record.

Phil Peterson (House of Breaking Glass studio) I’m guessing is also the arranger for the string parts. Together with Aubrea Alford on violin he provides a cinematic, wind-sweeping-over-the-plains depth.

Links:

http://www.lindsayfuller.com/home/

http://www.myspace.com/goodcountrypeople

Lindsay Fuller, The Holyfelds, The Starlings @ Conor Byrne

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Sun, 20 Jun 2010 23:34:00 -0700

Last night Anne and I went down to Ballard to the old familiar Conor Byrne Pub. I had a very pleasant surprise, and fell in love with the opening band – Lindsay Fuller. I’ll blog a review of her new album very soon.

We were there to see the Starlings play. Moe and Aimee (bass and drums, harmonica and vocals) are back from their bicycle tour and so it was a chance to see the starters in the game. They sounded great, and it was a fun time. The new CD will soon be out and you can check it out your own selves. Highlights were Fallen Days (For the one on the run) and Apple Tree. Anne and I had no choice but to shake a tail feather.

OK, so back to Lindsay Fuller. The usual Conor Byrne racket made it hard to hear unless you were up front, and the usual no-one cares unless you are “famous” factor meant that a lot of people missed seeing two of Seattle’s finest musicians backing her up – Jeff Fielder on dobro and nylon string guitar, and Rebecca Young on electric bass. Jeff also sang some well-blended background vocals.

There were obviously some people in the know, given the cluster-fuck of cameras and recorders. Even with this indicator for the more astute beer drinkers, that strange semi-circular realm of death which no living person should enter still glared ominously at the crowd from just in front of the monitors. I’ll admit Lindsay has been described as “intense” (thanks Mike), and perhaps that is why nobody wanted to get up there, or maybe like me they were trying to get in the cone of sound from the PA just to hear the music. The music was great.

In the middle was The Holyfelds who brought some danceable energy and searing harmonies to the stage. They also brought an autoharp, which I must admit gives me the heebie jeebies, however given the aforementioned hullabaloo I couldn’t really hear it, or the dobro for that matter. Ahhh bad sound, why do you haunt me?

http://www.lindsayfuller.com/home/

http://www.myspace.com/goodcountrypeople

Help me out with a link for the Holyfelds will ya?

BC Campbell, The Elderly, and Eric Claesson and the Scowlers @ Mars Bar

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Sun, 20 Jun 2010 17:09:00 -0700

Back to the Mars Bar with BC Campbell, this time opening for The Elderly and Eric Claesson and the Scowlers. Finally its was hot in a bar, this endless cool weather is really putting the blues into this city. Settled in with a Manny’s and off we went.

When you play out in a band that is still paying dues, you can end up on some funny bills. There was the time when Pelusa played at the Old Peculiar doing country and folk songs and between sets the bartender was rocking the Pantera. I also love the sets where the acoustic guitar duo has to play after the big drums rock band – NOT. You would think the club or the bookers would figure it out. Well I’m here to tell you that this time, someone did. We had 3 bands with different styles, yet similar enough to be on an i-pod playlist. The order went from quietest and smallest group to loudest and with drums. Everyone was super to talk to and hang out with, and the music was great. Thanks Mars Bar.

BC Campbell I’ve talked about before, suffice it to say that we are getting better every time and we had fun on stage.

The Elderly were new for me, and I enjoyed the set tremendously. 3 singers --- doing complex harmonies rather well considering the stage mix in there. Guitar, percussion, banjo. Unfortunately I don’t have a link for you, and describing music is difficult when the comparisons are not obvious. This is why there are so many horrible one-sheets out there, and why the question “what kind of music do you play?” is something every band should practice the answer to. I personally have no idea

Eric Claesson and the Scowlers brought some big reverb guitar and a low voice to some cool Americana songs, and even a David Bowie (Labrynth) cover! Also, they wore suits, which I appreciate, especially when its hot in the club. Comparisons we made while sitting there were to Nick Cave, Chris Isaac, Jon Spencer and argh BC will have to remind me the rest – comment it will ya?

Same goes for anyone with a link to the Seattle elderly, not the Pittsburgh band that likes DMB, or the Swedish guys (!). Just comment the link please.

An interview with Rich "Money" Bresnahan

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Sun, 20 Jun 2010 14:51:00 -0700

People want to know – who is Rich “Money” Bresnahan? So I did an interview with the man himself sitting in the noisy office at OTB. We had a beer and talked about Minnesota, steak burritos, the Seattle Sounders and art. Listen to the podcast for the story.

FF Rich Money by Farfetcher

Black Gold is in the Water: a song for the gulf

noreply@blogger.com (Farfetcher) — Thu, 10 Jun 2010 23:55:00 -0700

Like most everyone I’ve been following the story of the catastrophe in the Gulf of Mexico. My friend Tania posted this link on facebook and it really struck home. At the same time I was looking at pictures from high-school friends back home in the Bahamas, including the other much better off dolphin to the right.

Basically it pisses me off.

I know we are all complicit. I drove my car to work burning oil today, but BP and Halliburton (really these guys again?!?) should make no profits at all until this mess is cleaned up, every cent devoted to environmental and social restitution. I’m pretty sure that’s not how it's gonna go down though.

Reading that article, and realizing that there is an underwater channel 7 miles long (more dirt moved than for the Panama Canal) leading into the river (MRGO – Mississippi River Gulf Outlet) freaked me out a bit. Then reading that the drill on Deepwater Horizon went 35,000 feet deep really slapped me stunned. Don’t airplanes fly at 35,000 feet?

So I wrote a song, and Anne helped me edit it. You can listen to a rough recording HERE. I would love some feedback, if people relate to it, I will do a proper recording and release. If that happens we are going to donate all (any?) profits to GulfAid.Org. If you want to cover it – just send me a link to your version and any money goes to the gulf please.

This morning’s tide was black and blue, Black Gold is in the water

On Interstate 10 you can smell the smoke, from Biloxi to Pensacola

The fiendish schemes of countless fools, now twisted steel and wreckage

Eleven men died on that rig, their fire was extinguished.

The deepest hole they ever drilled, Black Gold is in the water

35 thousand feet straight down, straight south of Pascagoula

April 20, 2010, the gas caused the explosion

That rig sure lived up to its name, Deepwater Horizon

36 hours that fire burned, Black Gold is in the water

42 gallons in a barrel of oil, half million barrels squandered

That black blood still flows from the vein, that geyser in the ocean

Those fiendish fools they all forgot, Black Gold is also poison

The beaten bruised and burning sky, South of Mississippi!

Bears witness to the costs of pride and profits without Mercy.

Mississippi, Louisiane, Black Gold is in the water

No gold or silver in your hand, no music in the Quarter

America’s two poorest shills, have more Black Gold than Texas

But working folks can’t pay their bills, the deck is stacked against us.

Now bruises fade o’er broken bones, Black Gold is in the water

Clear ocean smells like diesel fumes, that crude hid undercover

If you make your living from the sea, your livelihood is stolen

No you can’t swim and you can’t fish, they stole the whole damn ocean.

The beaten bruised and burning sky, south of Mississippi!

Bears witness to the costs of pride and profits without Mercy.

September when the storm-winds sing, Black Gold is in the water

White lab coats with smart machines, cannot control the weather.

Katrina, Dennis, Dean, and Ike, rushed up through MR GO

And Hurricanes as yet Un-named, won’t tell which way they’ll blow

Men in pride who face their gods, have never learned their lesson

And you and I will pay the cost, of Deepwater Horizon.

This morning’s tide was black and blue, Black Gold is in the water (repeat)