Quasi's success is a balancing act – musical and otherwise – for divorced duo
By Chris Nixon
For The San Diego Union-Tribune
April 20, 2006
If Rachmaninoff, Thelonius Monk and the Flaming Lips gathered in a room for a jam session, the results might sound something like Quasi's 2006 album “When the Going Gets Dark.” Big piano chords (Rachmaninoff), atonal melodies (Thelonius) and an outsider pop mentality (Flaming Lips) collide in 11 tracks of beautiful psychedelic cacophony, a sound that has everything to do with the relationship between its two members.
The duo's sound extends from the complicated relationship between Sam Coomes (piano, guitar, bass, vocals) and Janet Weiss (drums, vocals). Weiss – who anchors the drum kit for Portland trio Sleater-Kinney – and the well-traveled Coomes (Elliot Smith, Built to Spill) once were married during the band's early years. Now with the relationship purely professional and friendly (the two divorced in 1995), “Going” was Quasi's seventh album.
Coomes writes almost all of Quasi's songs, but the key to the band's music success lies in the balance between the two personalities. Said Coomes: “I feel like we're fairly equal. We're fairly balanced. We set up opposite each other onstage: Nobody's in front, nobody's in back.”
Despite leaving the difficulties of relationship in their rearview mirrors, recording the new release presented unforeseen obstacles. Coomes and Weiss finished the recording of the album and were pleased with the basic tracks. But the challenge came when they tried to mix the tracks into complete songs.
“Recording the initial tracks – when Janet and I were just sitting in there playing – we were really feeling it,” said Coomes. “We were happy with what we got on tape as far as our performances go. That was why we stuck with it. We knew it was happening at some level. But it really got bogged down along the way. When it was all done, we were kind of relieved that it came out as good as it did.”
The solution came when Quasi decided to send the tracks to Dave Fridmann (Flaming Lips, Café Tacuba), giving him free reign to come up with the final mix: “Eventually, he was able to figure out how it all fit together and sow it all up sonically.”
For the first time in over a decade, Quasi will be performing with an additional musician when the tour stops at San Diego's Casbah club on Kettner Boulevard Monday. Coomes said bassist Joanna Bolme (Stephen Malkmus) will allow the pair to experiment more in the live context.
“We've always been reluctant to add another person, not because of sound reasons but mostly we don't want anybody getting in our way,” said Coomes. “When we play live, we really get off on going out on a limb and really going nuts. So we don't want to be limited. But, actually, with Joanna it helps us to do that more. She can hold down the center and I can go off even more.”
Despite the ups and downs of the music industry and personal relationships, Coomes and Weiss still find their musical connection unique and fulfilling.
“Quasi is intrinsic to our lives,” Coomes said. “Each one of us gets something out of it that wouldn't be easily gotten in a different context. So we're willing to work through whatever difficulties come our way, and we've had more than our share for sure.
“Why do we do this? It's not for money. We just do it because we love it and we get something out of it. If people like it, that's great. And if they don't, we'd still do it anyway.”
Chris Nixon is a San Diego music writer.
Monday, April 24, 2006
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Umphrey's McGee pushes jam band music forward
Jam band embraces spontaneity, followers
By Chris Nixon
For The San Diego Union-Tribune
April 11, 2006
The words “jam band” evoke a variety of images and stereotypes, both musical and cultural. The bands typically adopt an improvisational style, drawing new fans through word-of-mouth and constant touring. Kids usually follow groups on their tours, creating a traveling subculture.
For Chicago band Umphrey's McGee, acceptance into the jam band lifestyle brought a constant flow of devoted fans.
“I see it as we're part of this community, a really great community that allows us to experiment in our live show,” said percussionist Andy Farag from his home in the Windy City. “People come out and travel from state to state to see us. We embrace (the term jam band). This is how we make a living.”
The music of Umphrey's McGee – with its tendency toward both tight songwriting on studio albums and long jams during live shows – places the sextet at the forefront of the next generation of jam bands (see also Particle and Disco Biscuits). After its humble roots in 1998 in the Midwestern town of South Bend, Ind., the group grew an audience through constant touring.
Learning the music business through touring can leave bands scratching their heads, especially jam bands. Even the most ardent of Grateful Dead fans (affectionately dubbed Deadheads) will admit the legendary group's studio output was uneven and mediocre at best compared with its live shows. Instead of creating material on the spot, Umphrey's McGee was forced to learn the art of studio songwriting.
Umphrey's McGee – Jake Cinninger (guitar), Joel Cummins (keyboards, vocals), Brendan Bayliss (guitar, vocals), Ryan Stasik (bass), Kris Myers (drums, vocals) and Farag (percussion) – released its third studio album recently, titled “Safety in Numbers.” The disc features 11 tracks of prog rock and tight songwriting, with guest appearances by veteran rocker Huey Lewis and touted jazz sax player Joshua Redman.
“Over the past couple of albums we've been working on (writing material to fit the studio format),” admitted Farag. “We realized that we have to be different in our live show and our studio work. I think we did it a little better this time around with 'Safety in Numbers.' In the studio, you have to be short and concise compared to a show. So you have to be mentally prepared to separate those two things.”
Despite the solid collection of tunes on “Safety in Numbers,” the calling card of Umphrey's McGee continues to be its live performances.
“People come see us for the improvs,” said Farag. “We try to write songs on the spot. It's the spontaneity of the experience that keeps people coming back, the freshness of every show. Nobody knows what's going to happen next, not even us onstage.”
Chris Nixon is a San Diego music writer.
By Chris Nixon
For The San Diego Union-Tribune
April 11, 2006
The words “jam band” evoke a variety of images and stereotypes, both musical and cultural. The bands typically adopt an improvisational style, drawing new fans through word-of-mouth and constant touring. Kids usually follow groups on their tours, creating a traveling subculture.
For Chicago band Umphrey's McGee, acceptance into the jam band lifestyle brought a constant flow of devoted fans.
“I see it as we're part of this community, a really great community that allows us to experiment in our live show,” said percussionist Andy Farag from his home in the Windy City. “People come out and travel from state to state to see us. We embrace (the term jam band). This is how we make a living.”
The music of Umphrey's McGee – with its tendency toward both tight songwriting on studio albums and long jams during live shows – places the sextet at the forefront of the next generation of jam bands (see also Particle and Disco Biscuits). After its humble roots in 1998 in the Midwestern town of South Bend, Ind., the group grew an audience through constant touring.
Learning the music business through touring can leave bands scratching their heads, especially jam bands. Even the most ardent of Grateful Dead fans (affectionately dubbed Deadheads) will admit the legendary group's studio output was uneven and mediocre at best compared with its live shows. Instead of creating material on the spot, Umphrey's McGee was forced to learn the art of studio songwriting.
Umphrey's McGee – Jake Cinninger (guitar), Joel Cummins (keyboards, vocals), Brendan Bayliss (guitar, vocals), Ryan Stasik (bass), Kris Myers (drums, vocals) and Farag (percussion) – released its third studio album recently, titled “Safety in Numbers.” The disc features 11 tracks of prog rock and tight songwriting, with guest appearances by veteran rocker Huey Lewis and touted jazz sax player Joshua Redman.
“Over the past couple of albums we've been working on (writing material to fit the studio format),” admitted Farag. “We realized that we have to be different in our live show and our studio work. I think we did it a little better this time around with 'Safety in Numbers.' In the studio, you have to be short and concise compared to a show. So you have to be mentally prepared to separate those two things.”
Despite the solid collection of tunes on “Safety in Numbers,” the calling card of Umphrey's McGee continues to be its live performances.
“People come see us for the improvs,” said Farag. “We try to write songs on the spot. It's the spontaneity of the experience that keeps people coming back, the freshness of every show. Nobody knows what's going to happen next, not even us onstage.”
Chris Nixon is a San Diego music writer.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Jamie Lidell in N&D
Lidell's music draws from a wide range of styles
By Chris Nixon
For The San Diego Union-Tribune
April 10, 2006
Bubblegum Motown. Parliament's space funk. 1980s R&B crooners. Dance-floor electronica. From a dusty Southern shack to the flashy discos of New York City, funk and soul shifts to fit the times.
Amazingly, a 32-year-old English native turned German resident captures the spectrum of soul all on one album, skipping easily from classic Marvin Gaye-inspired soul songs to dance tracks informed by modern club music.
Meet Jamie Lidell. His 2005 release “Multiply” effortlessly encapsulates the history of soul and funk in his sprawling set of 10 tunes. Lidell cites funk and soul as inspirations, but also “noise, jazz, blues, techno, house, glam, dirtcore, unterbeat, the big ole pop, the lesser known pitch touch, rock 'n' rules, the hop, the fug, all that.”
From the subtle soul of “Games of Fools” (in which Lidell sounds like a young Sam Cooke) to the Rick James-esque “When I Come Around” (complete with hand claps and 1980s keyboards), the disc covers a dizzying array of song styles but manages to hold to together as a complete whole.
“Either I must have many sides or no core or just a lot of shades to my shadow,” mused Lidell from his home in Berlin.
The recording process for “Multiply” took the multi-instrumentalist three years, with sessions taking place mostly at his home studio. Lidell worked primarily with producer-musician-DJ Mocky (aka Dominic Salole), along with an occasional live drummer to fill out the sound.
“It unfolded like a book: one of those fat phone books,” said Lidell about the process behind “Multiply.” “The studio is a weird place for me, but I try to let out what's brewing. I see it as a form of sonic sweat. Sometimes it'll smell sweet, sometimes funky – but it's gotta come out when it gets hot.”
In his solo live shows, Liddell utilizes technology to layer his vocals and keyboard parts. But don't expect him to hide behind a laptop when he starts his latest American tour tonight in San Diego. A Jamie Lidell concert is singing, dancing and performance art all wrapped into one: “When I play live, I try and just let the music flood out like tea from a bag.”
When asked about the Casbah gig, Lidell said, “I will attempt to stop time. It's a risky game, but if you wanna be there, we could make it last forever.”
Enough said.
Chris Nixon is a San Diego music writer.
By Chris Nixon
For The San Diego Union-Tribune
April 10, 2006
Bubblegum Motown. Parliament's space funk. 1980s R&B crooners. Dance-floor electronica. From a dusty Southern shack to the flashy discos of New York City, funk and soul shifts to fit the times.
Amazingly, a 32-year-old English native turned German resident captures the spectrum of soul all on one album, skipping easily from classic Marvin Gaye-inspired soul songs to dance tracks informed by modern club music.
Meet Jamie Lidell. His 2005 release “Multiply” effortlessly encapsulates the history of soul and funk in his sprawling set of 10 tunes. Lidell cites funk and soul as inspirations, but also “noise, jazz, blues, techno, house, glam, dirtcore, unterbeat, the big ole pop, the lesser known pitch touch, rock 'n' rules, the hop, the fug, all that.”
From the subtle soul of “Games of Fools” (in which Lidell sounds like a young Sam Cooke) to the Rick James-esque “When I Come Around” (complete with hand claps and 1980s keyboards), the disc covers a dizzying array of song styles but manages to hold to together as a complete whole.
“Either I must have many sides or no core or just a lot of shades to my shadow,” mused Lidell from his home in Berlin.
The recording process for “Multiply” took the multi-instrumentalist three years, with sessions taking place mostly at his home studio. Lidell worked primarily with producer-musician-DJ Mocky (aka Dominic Salole), along with an occasional live drummer to fill out the sound.
“It unfolded like a book: one of those fat phone books,” said Lidell about the process behind “Multiply.” “The studio is a weird place for me, but I try to let out what's brewing. I see it as a form of sonic sweat. Sometimes it'll smell sweet, sometimes funky – but it's gotta come out when it gets hot.”
In his solo live shows, Liddell utilizes technology to layer his vocals and keyboard parts. But don't expect him to hide behind a laptop when he starts his latest American tour tonight in San Diego. A Jamie Lidell concert is singing, dancing and performance art all wrapped into one: “When I play live, I try and just let the music flood out like tea from a bag.”
When asked about the Casbah gig, Lidell said, “I will attempt to stop time. It's a risky game, but if you wanna be there, we could make it last forever.”
Enough said.
Chris Nixon is a San Diego music writer.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Sia Furler in Night&Day
'Six Feet' gave her work yards of exposure
By Chris Nixon
For the San Diego Union-Tribune
March 30, 2006
As more high-profile television shows like “The O.C.” adopt music-video stylings with glossy montages and artsy cinematography, television soundtracks provide the perfect conduit for musicians to access larger audiences. Australian-born vocalist Sia Furler experienced firsthand the dramatic effect TV can have on a music career. Featured during the closing scene of “Six Feet Under's” final show, her song “Breathe Me” immediately rocketed into public consciousness.
“I approved usage of the song, but I had no idea in what context,” said Furler from Los Angeles where she was rehearsing her band for a tour starting in San Diego Saturday. “I woke one morning and went to the computer; I had about 15 e-mails from all my American friends basically filled with expletives and exclamation points. Everyone was watching the final heartbreaking montage and it was my song as the soundtrack. I was pretty excited, obviously. Within a couple of days, the song had gone to No. 4 on Amazon.com.”
Originally featured on Sia's 2004 UK album “Colour the Small One,” the song hadn't caused much of a stir with fans or critics until its appearance on “Six Feet Under.” Punctuated by Furler's soulful, intimate vocals and subtle downtempo electronic pop, the song's sweet sincerity struck a chord with viewers and gave the album a new life.
But Furler (who records under her first name) experienced the fickle nature of success in the music industry. Born in Adelaide, Australia, she jammed in funk and soul bands, honing her skills as a vocalist before moving to London. There, she hooked up with an inexperienced manager who helped her sign a deal that, she said, hurt her development as an artist: “He signed me to a pretty crummy record deal. I really didn't know anything about it. I was fine as long as I could pay my phone bill and my electricity bill.”
The record deal yielded one hit in the United Kingdom, “Taken for Granted,” but her debut album, “Healing Is Difficult,” was slow to hit shelves in stores. Interest in it fizzled.
Meanwhile, producers Henry Binns and Sam Hardaker of Zero 7 heard her tapes and asked her to participate in the band's debut disc, “Simple Things.” She also will sing on Zero 7's upcoming release “The Garden.” She toured with Zero 7 (along with Tina Dico, who performed here a few weeks ago at the Casbah), but her solo career stood at a standstill until “Six Feet Under” came along.
“Colour the Small One” just saw a release in the United States with her new label Astralwerks. Needless to say, Furler is excited about touring with her top-notch group.
“I hope they're my band forever, although I imagine they won't be because they're so good,” said Furler, whose band includes drummer Joey Waronker, guitarist Guy Seyffert, keyboardist Joseph John Kennedy, bassist Sam Dixon and cellist Ollie Kraus. “I'm sure they'll outgrow me or I won't be able to afford them at some stage.”
She's particularly happy with Waronker (R.E.M., Smashing Pumpkins, Beck) taking a seat behind the drum kit: “He's actually a producer these days, but he's doing me a favor by going out on tour with me. He's so engaging to watch and so tasty and beautiful in his playing.”
Despite her recent success, Furler refuses to get a big head about it all.
“I'm a little nervous because I know that 'Breathe Me' is definitely the best song on the album so it can only go downhill from here,” said Furler, a bit scarred from her previous encounters with the music industry. “They're probably going to choose 'Numb,' because we already have a video for it and they seem to think it will work well in the American market. I prefer 'Sunday,' but I guess one of the things I've learned is to let people get on with their business. Sometimes, you don't have to be in control. Sometimes, they do know better.”
Chris Nixon is a San Diego music writer.
By Chris Nixon
For the San Diego Union-Tribune
March 30, 2006
As more high-profile television shows like “The O.C.” adopt music-video stylings with glossy montages and artsy cinematography, television soundtracks provide the perfect conduit for musicians to access larger audiences. Australian-born vocalist Sia Furler experienced firsthand the dramatic effect TV can have on a music career. Featured during the closing scene of “Six Feet Under's” final show, her song “Breathe Me” immediately rocketed into public consciousness.
“I approved usage of the song, but I had no idea in what context,” said Furler from Los Angeles where she was rehearsing her band for a tour starting in San Diego Saturday. “I woke one morning and went to the computer; I had about 15 e-mails from all my American friends basically filled with expletives and exclamation points. Everyone was watching the final heartbreaking montage and it was my song as the soundtrack. I was pretty excited, obviously. Within a couple of days, the song had gone to No. 4 on Amazon.com.”
Originally featured on Sia's 2004 UK album “Colour the Small One,” the song hadn't caused much of a stir with fans or critics until its appearance on “Six Feet Under.” Punctuated by Furler's soulful, intimate vocals and subtle downtempo electronic pop, the song's sweet sincerity struck a chord with viewers and gave the album a new life.
But Furler (who records under her first name) experienced the fickle nature of success in the music industry. Born in Adelaide, Australia, she jammed in funk and soul bands, honing her skills as a vocalist before moving to London. There, she hooked up with an inexperienced manager who helped her sign a deal that, she said, hurt her development as an artist: “He signed me to a pretty crummy record deal. I really didn't know anything about it. I was fine as long as I could pay my phone bill and my electricity bill.”
The record deal yielded one hit in the United Kingdom, “Taken for Granted,” but her debut album, “Healing Is Difficult,” was slow to hit shelves in stores. Interest in it fizzled.
Meanwhile, producers Henry Binns and Sam Hardaker of Zero 7 heard her tapes and asked her to participate in the band's debut disc, “Simple Things.” She also will sing on Zero 7's upcoming release “The Garden.” She toured with Zero 7 (along with Tina Dico, who performed here a few weeks ago at the Casbah), but her solo career stood at a standstill until “Six Feet Under” came along.
“Colour the Small One” just saw a release in the United States with her new label Astralwerks. Needless to say, Furler is excited about touring with her top-notch group.
“I hope they're my band forever, although I imagine they won't be because they're so good,” said Furler, whose band includes drummer Joey Waronker, guitarist Guy Seyffert, keyboardist Joseph John Kennedy, bassist Sam Dixon and cellist Ollie Kraus. “I'm sure they'll outgrow me or I won't be able to afford them at some stage.”
She's particularly happy with Waronker (R.E.M., Smashing Pumpkins, Beck) taking a seat behind the drum kit: “He's actually a producer these days, but he's doing me a favor by going out on tour with me. He's so engaging to watch and so tasty and beautiful in his playing.”
Despite her recent success, Furler refuses to get a big head about it all.
“I'm a little nervous because I know that 'Breathe Me' is definitely the best song on the album so it can only go downhill from here,” said Furler, a bit scarred from her previous encounters with the music industry. “They're probably going to choose 'Numb,' because we already have a video for it and they seem to think it will work well in the American market. I prefer 'Sunday,' but I guess one of the things I've learned is to let people get on with their business. Sometimes, you don't have to be in control. Sometimes, they do know better.”
Chris Nixon is a San Diego music writer.
WAS in Night&Day
We Are Scientists keeps tongues firmly in cheek
By Chris Nixon
For the San Diego Union-Tribune
March 30, 2006
We Are Scientists – a trio of hooligans who originally met while attending Pomona College outside of Los Angeles – lament little about the band's move to New York in 2001. Lead singer and guitarist Keith Murray used his deadpan tone to illustrate the best and worst of things about living in Southern California.
“The best thing about Southern California is the Mexican food,” recalled a grieving Murray as he traveled in a tour van somewhere on a Texas highway. “The worst thing about Southern California is when you inevitably leave – as you must – you will miss the Mexican food. In any way that Southern California thinks it is somehow defined by anything other than Mexican food, that is simple delusion. We have been to Akron, Ohio. And for a moment, I thought I was in West Covina, but I couldn't get a single enchilada.”
Despite the obvious lack of high-quality enchiladas in Akron or NYC, We Are Scientists has moved onto greener pastures. Murray – along with bassist Chris Cain and drummer Michael Taper – sparked major-label interest at 2005's South by Southwest festival in Austin, Texas. Said Murray: “We didn't think anybody would know who we were. As far as we could tell, nobody really did. But South By Southwest is widely regarded by people as our turning point.”
Instead of getting tangled in label commitments, the band decided to self-record an album while the material remained fresh. The set of 12 songs, later to become 2006's “With Love and Squalor,” proved a good tool to lure record labels.
“We recorded it as live as possible with a friend of ours producing it, just so we could have an album in hand,” said Murray, remembering the process. “We wanted to give the illusion that all these labels could be missing out at moment's notice. I'll be honest with you: It worked. Every label man that I met with face-to-face after that had distinct fear in his eyes. Basically, I would hold it just out of reach and when they reached for it I would slap their hand away. I'll be honest, there was a lot of torment delivered unto the music industry courtesy of We Are Scientists. Then, we buckled almost instantly once the offers started rolling in.”
This courtship led to a deal with Virgin Records, which released “With Love and Squalor” in the States Jan. 10. Chippy lyrics pepper the 12 ironclad rock tunes on the band's debut, an exercise in tongue-in-cheek rock 'n' roll. But these guys have the musical chops to back their throw-caution-to-the-wind modus operandi.
“Despite our name, I think you'll detect the distinct lack of scientific discussion in most things we do, including any actual scientific research we are involved in,” remarked Murray. “But when we do get hired on as scientific consultants for labs or large-machinery construction, we try to be as emotional and impulsive and act with as little reason as possible to avoid the obvious typecasting of scientists.”
While they fit nicely into the Franz Ferdinand/Futureheads/Bloc Party pantheon of bands recycling 1980s post-punk sounds, We Are Scientists rises above the hordes scrambling to cling onto the sound du jour with its intelligent lyrics and edgy attitude.
The infectious nature of “Love and Squalor” seems primed for radio airplay, a huge selling point for labels when they came knocking. The record sells itself, and the band has been reaping the benefits of partnering with Virgin.
“For the band, it's an entirely different story now (since signing the record deal),” said Murray, who takes the Casbah stage with his band Sunday. “We can actually go to San Diego and sell a reasonable amount of tickets, whereas before, the only reason to go to San Diego would be to get even closer to Mexico for some enchiladas.
“But our shows are amazingly different now. In the UK on our next tour we're doing 2,000-person venues, which are sold out in two or three days. So it helps to have people behind you.”
Chris Nixon is a San Diego music writer.
By Chris Nixon
For the San Diego Union-Tribune
March 30, 2006
We Are Scientists – a trio of hooligans who originally met while attending Pomona College outside of Los Angeles – lament little about the band's move to New York in 2001. Lead singer and guitarist Keith Murray used his deadpan tone to illustrate the best and worst of things about living in Southern California.
“The best thing about Southern California is the Mexican food,” recalled a grieving Murray as he traveled in a tour van somewhere on a Texas highway. “The worst thing about Southern California is when you inevitably leave – as you must – you will miss the Mexican food. In any way that Southern California thinks it is somehow defined by anything other than Mexican food, that is simple delusion. We have been to Akron, Ohio. And for a moment, I thought I was in West Covina, but I couldn't get a single enchilada.”
Despite the obvious lack of high-quality enchiladas in Akron or NYC, We Are Scientists has moved onto greener pastures. Murray – along with bassist Chris Cain and drummer Michael Taper – sparked major-label interest at 2005's South by Southwest festival in Austin, Texas. Said Murray: “We didn't think anybody would know who we were. As far as we could tell, nobody really did. But South By Southwest is widely regarded by people as our turning point.”
Instead of getting tangled in label commitments, the band decided to self-record an album while the material remained fresh. The set of 12 songs, later to become 2006's “With Love and Squalor,” proved a good tool to lure record labels.
“We recorded it as live as possible with a friend of ours producing it, just so we could have an album in hand,” said Murray, remembering the process. “We wanted to give the illusion that all these labels could be missing out at moment's notice. I'll be honest with you: It worked. Every label man that I met with face-to-face after that had distinct fear in his eyes. Basically, I would hold it just out of reach and when they reached for it I would slap their hand away. I'll be honest, there was a lot of torment delivered unto the music industry courtesy of We Are Scientists. Then, we buckled almost instantly once the offers started rolling in.”
This courtship led to a deal with Virgin Records, which released “With Love and Squalor” in the States Jan. 10. Chippy lyrics pepper the 12 ironclad rock tunes on the band's debut, an exercise in tongue-in-cheek rock 'n' roll. But these guys have the musical chops to back their throw-caution-to-the-wind modus operandi.
“Despite our name, I think you'll detect the distinct lack of scientific discussion in most things we do, including any actual scientific research we are involved in,” remarked Murray. “But when we do get hired on as scientific consultants for labs or large-machinery construction, we try to be as emotional and impulsive and act with as little reason as possible to avoid the obvious typecasting of scientists.”
While they fit nicely into the Franz Ferdinand/Futureheads/Bloc Party pantheon of bands recycling 1980s post-punk sounds, We Are Scientists rises above the hordes scrambling to cling onto the sound du jour with its intelligent lyrics and edgy attitude.
The infectious nature of “Love and Squalor” seems primed for radio airplay, a huge selling point for labels when they came knocking. The record sells itself, and the band has been reaping the benefits of partnering with Virgin.
“For the band, it's an entirely different story now (since signing the record deal),” said Murray, who takes the Casbah stage with his band Sunday. “We can actually go to San Diego and sell a reasonable amount of tickets, whereas before, the only reason to go to San Diego would be to get even closer to Mexico for some enchiladas.
“But our shows are amazingly different now. In the UK on our next tour we're doing 2,000-person venues, which are sold out in two or three days. So it helps to have people behind you.”
Chris Nixon is a San Diego music writer.
Feist rides rising momentum
Since 'Let It Die' album, her career has thrived
By Chris Nixon
For the San Diego Union-Tribune
March 24, 2006
In her breezy and humble manner, singer-guitarist Leslie Feist takes a moment from her hectic schedule to gloat a bit about her current surroundings:
“I'm in the countryside outside of Paris, in a beautiful old manor house,” says a bubbly Feist, speaking about the locale for the recording of her next album. “The studio is in the basement, but we decided to set everything up in the old parlor and dining-room area so we can look at each other and (at) the sunshine coming through the stained-glass windows. It's pretty idyllic, and I think it's spoiling me. I'll have to go back to regular life after this.”
Regular life isn't too bad, either, these days for Feist. Riding the coattails of her standout sophomore release, “Let It Die” (following 1999's “Monarch”), the 30-year-old musician is making the journey from well-respected collaborator to revered solo artist.
After gaining indie credibility with varied artists such as Broken Social Scene, Kings of Convenience and former roommate Peaches, Feist's “Let It Die” stands as one of the most endearing pop albums in recent years. The process of recording turned out to be a voyage into the unknown.
“It's funny to talk about the recording process of 'Let It Die,' because I just started making a new one with the same people,” says Feist, who recorded “Let It Die” in 2003, released it overseas in 2004, and saw a U.S. release in 2005. “We're all looking at each other, laughing, because of how different the circumstances are this time. When we made the first one, it was really like jumping blind into a dark lake at night. You don't know if you're going to hit the rocks or if there are some creatures lurking underwater.”
The magic of “Let It Die” sprung from the partnership of Feist and musician Chilly Gonzalez, who toured together throughout its on-again, off-again recording period.
“We were a duo on tour, but it was his music and his songs,” recalls Feist, who took a break from touring with Gonzales to record her breakout album. “I was kind of his Vanna White/singing partner/torch-song singer. I was the straight man to his funny man.”
Feist – along with Gonzalez and producer Renaud Letang – shaped 11 tracks replete with soaring strings, oom-pah-pah horns, oozing jazz guitar and Feist's earnest vocals and clever lyrics. The record earned the singer two Juno Awards (Canada's equivalent of the Grammy Awards): for new artist of the year and alternative album of the year, edging out fellow nominees Arcade Fire and A.C. Newman. The disc also made numerous “Best of 2005” lists in the States.
San Diego native Robbie Lackritz – who has also worked with Rilo Kiley and Ben Lee – engineered tracks and helped Feist on the road as tour manager. Feist credits Lackritz with being “one of those behind-the-scenes guys who know how to play guitar better than I do.”
Despite her reputation as a collaborator, Feist confides that she doesn't really enjoy working with others when writing tunes. “I much prefer to write everything by myself,” says Feist. “It's kind of difficult. It's like getting undressed in a really bright light.”
Though it may not be the French countryside, Feist is now hitting the road in the U.S. accompanied by a small band (baritone guitar, organ/flugelhorn, drums) and with a set list combining songs from “Let It Die” and the upcoming release. Feist – who is also an excellent guitarist – focused on writing songs for the new album that are compatible with the way she tours.
“ 'Let It Die' is more piano-based, organ-based and percussion-based,” says Feist, who will stop at the Belly Up Tavern in Solana Beach Sunday. “Live, the songs are more guitar-based. The record that we're doing right now is really guitar-based. I feel like finally I get to write some parts that I'll be excited to play on tour for this record.”
Chris Nixon is a San Diego DJ and music writer.
By Chris Nixon
For the San Diego Union-Tribune
March 24, 2006
In her breezy and humble manner, singer-guitarist Leslie Feist takes a moment from her hectic schedule to gloat a bit about her current surroundings:
“I'm in the countryside outside of Paris, in a beautiful old manor house,” says a bubbly Feist, speaking about the locale for the recording of her next album. “The studio is in the basement, but we decided to set everything up in the old parlor and dining-room area so we can look at each other and (at) the sunshine coming through the stained-glass windows. It's pretty idyllic, and I think it's spoiling me. I'll have to go back to regular life after this.”
Regular life isn't too bad, either, these days for Feist. Riding the coattails of her standout sophomore release, “Let It Die” (following 1999's “Monarch”), the 30-year-old musician is making the journey from well-respected collaborator to revered solo artist.
After gaining indie credibility with varied artists such as Broken Social Scene, Kings of Convenience and former roommate Peaches, Feist's “Let It Die” stands as one of the most endearing pop albums in recent years. The process of recording turned out to be a voyage into the unknown.
“It's funny to talk about the recording process of 'Let It Die,' because I just started making a new one with the same people,” says Feist, who recorded “Let It Die” in 2003, released it overseas in 2004, and saw a U.S. release in 2005. “We're all looking at each other, laughing, because of how different the circumstances are this time. When we made the first one, it was really like jumping blind into a dark lake at night. You don't know if you're going to hit the rocks or if there are some creatures lurking underwater.”
The magic of “Let It Die” sprung from the partnership of Feist and musician Chilly Gonzalez, who toured together throughout its on-again, off-again recording period.
“We were a duo on tour, but it was his music and his songs,” recalls Feist, who took a break from touring with Gonzales to record her breakout album. “I was kind of his Vanna White/singing partner/torch-song singer. I was the straight man to his funny man.”
Feist – along with Gonzalez and producer Renaud Letang – shaped 11 tracks replete with soaring strings, oom-pah-pah horns, oozing jazz guitar and Feist's earnest vocals and clever lyrics. The record earned the singer two Juno Awards (Canada's equivalent of the Grammy Awards): for new artist of the year and alternative album of the year, edging out fellow nominees Arcade Fire and A.C. Newman. The disc also made numerous “Best of 2005” lists in the States.
San Diego native Robbie Lackritz – who has also worked with Rilo Kiley and Ben Lee – engineered tracks and helped Feist on the road as tour manager. Feist credits Lackritz with being “one of those behind-the-scenes guys who know how to play guitar better than I do.”
Despite her reputation as a collaborator, Feist confides that she doesn't really enjoy working with others when writing tunes. “I much prefer to write everything by myself,” says Feist. “It's kind of difficult. It's like getting undressed in a really bright light.”
Though it may not be the French countryside, Feist is now hitting the road in the U.S. accompanied by a small band (baritone guitar, organ/flugelhorn, drums) and with a set list combining songs from “Let It Die” and the upcoming release. Feist – who is also an excellent guitarist – focused on writing songs for the new album that are compatible with the way she tours.
“ 'Let It Die' is more piano-based, organ-based and percussion-based,” says Feist, who will stop at the Belly Up Tavern in Solana Beach Sunday. “Live, the songs are more guitar-based. The record that we're doing right now is really guitar-based. I feel like finally I get to write some parts that I'll be excited to play on tour for this record.”
Chris Nixon is a San Diego DJ and music writer.
UB40 uncovered in Night&Day
They gave up their day jobs and found a nice career
By Chris Nixon
For the San Diego Union-Tribune
March 23, 2006
An urban legend surrounds veteran English reggae group UB40 regarding its name. The story goes that the band's members met in the unemployment line, in British parlance the “dole queue.” Thus, they named the band after the requisite form one fills out to apply for unemployment in the United Kingdom: the UB40 form.
While the paperwork is indeed called the UB40 form, the true story of the band's name provides insight into the reason behind the band's longevity.
“Obviously I've known (lead singer) Ali (Campbell) all his life. He's my kid brother,” explained Robin Campbell, who has been the band's guitarist since its inception in 1978. “Starting with when he was 12 years old, the kids he brought home after school are the same kids in the band. So it was kind of a social circle that became a band.”
But a true expression of the band's devotion to the art of reggae came in the form of giving up everything for the music. Said the elder Campbell: “I think a couple of us had jobs when we formed the band. Those people gave up their jobs and went on the dole to be in the band. We did it five days a week just like a job, we had to learn. We decided that if we were going to be in the band, we were going to have to give up our day jobs.”
And there you have the reason for the name.
The Campbell brothers – along with drummer James Brown, bassist Earl Falconer, percussionist Norman Hassan, sax player Brian Travers, keyboardist Michael Virtue and toastmaster-trumpeter Astro – used this devotion to reggae and dub music to earn fame and fortune.
The world first heard UB40 through its dub reggae remake of Neil Diamond's song “Red, Red Wine” on its classic collection of cover tunes on 1983's “Labour of Love.” Driven by the soulful vocals of Ali Campbell, hits followed on 1997's “Rat in the Kitchen” and subsequent cover albums (“Labour of Love II” in 1992 and “Labour of Love III” in 1999). But success draws detractors. Said Campbell, venting his frustration: “We're always battling idiots who call us a middle-of-the-road band and white reggae, which the black guys in the band find infuriating.”
The same devotion to reggae that catapulted the band into stardom would eventually wear UB40 down.
“We tour after we make an album,” clarified Campbell. “After we're finished and the interest has waned, we go back in and make another one. And then go back out on the road. That's how it's gone for the last 25 years really.”
To put it succinctly, UB40 burned out. When they rejoined after a break, the process of creating albums changed. The band owned its own studio, allowing members to come and go during the recording of records. Subsequently, the last two or three UB40 albums suffered, according to Campbell.
“We were making records by numbers really,” admitted Campbell. “We were doing it in shifts because we could go in when we felt like it. We were kind of composing without each other. We'd still end up with stuff we liked, but it was never quite a UB40 record.”
So the brothers Campbell and company went back to its roots to record 2006's “Who You Fighting For?” The record represents the much-bandied-about term “return to form,” as UB40 regrouped and started writing songs the same way it did back in 1978.
“Basically, we decided to get back into a room and play together as a band,” said Campbell, who takes the stage at downtown club 4th & B Tuesday. “It transformed us really. It reinvigorated us. When we started jamming again, everything changed and everyone had smiles on their faces. And we've got an album we're proud of again. I think it's the best thing we've done in donkey's years, I really do.”
The same devotion to reggae that catapulted the band into stardom would eventually wear UB40 down.
“We tour after we make an album,” clarified Campbell. “After we're finished and the interest has waned, we go back in and make another one. And then go back out on the road. That's how it's gone for the last 25 years really.”
To put it succinctly, UB40 burned out. When they rejoined after a break, the process of creating albums changed. The band owned its own studio, allowing members to come and go during the recording of records. Subsequently, the last two or three UB40 albums suffered, according to Campbell.
“We were making records by numbers really,” admitted Campbell. “We were doing it in shifts because we could go in when we felt like it. We were kind of composing without each other. We'd still end up with stuff we liked, but it was never quite a UB40 record.”
So the brothers Campbell and company went back to its roots to record 2006's “Who You Fighting For?” The record represents the much-bandied-about term “return to form,” as UB40 regrouped and started writing songs the same way it did back in 1978.
“Basically, we decided to get back into a room and play together as a band,” said Campbell, who takes the stage at downtown club 4th & B Tuesday. “It transformed us really. It reinvigorated us. When we started jamming again, everything changed and everyone had smiles on their faces. And we've got an album we're proud of again. I think it's the best thing we've done in donkey's years, I really do.”
Chris Nixon is a San Diego music writer.
By Chris Nixon
For the San Diego Union-Tribune
March 23, 2006
An urban legend surrounds veteran English reggae group UB40 regarding its name. The story goes that the band's members met in the unemployment line, in British parlance the “dole queue.” Thus, they named the band after the requisite form one fills out to apply for unemployment in the United Kingdom: the UB40 form.
While the paperwork is indeed called the UB40 form, the true story of the band's name provides insight into the reason behind the band's longevity.
“Obviously I've known (lead singer) Ali (Campbell) all his life. He's my kid brother,” explained Robin Campbell, who has been the band's guitarist since its inception in 1978. “Starting with when he was 12 years old, the kids he brought home after school are the same kids in the band. So it was kind of a social circle that became a band.”
But a true expression of the band's devotion to the art of reggae came in the form of giving up everything for the music. Said the elder Campbell: “I think a couple of us had jobs when we formed the band. Those people gave up their jobs and went on the dole to be in the band. We did it five days a week just like a job, we had to learn. We decided that if we were going to be in the band, we were going to have to give up our day jobs.”
And there you have the reason for the name.
The Campbell brothers – along with drummer James Brown, bassist Earl Falconer, percussionist Norman Hassan, sax player Brian Travers, keyboardist Michael Virtue and toastmaster-trumpeter Astro – used this devotion to reggae and dub music to earn fame and fortune.
The world first heard UB40 through its dub reggae remake of Neil Diamond's song “Red, Red Wine” on its classic collection of cover tunes on 1983's “Labour of Love.” Driven by the soulful vocals of Ali Campbell, hits followed on 1997's “Rat in the Kitchen” and subsequent cover albums (“Labour of Love II” in 1992 and “Labour of Love III” in 1999). But success draws detractors. Said Campbell, venting his frustration: “We're always battling idiots who call us a middle-of-the-road band and white reggae, which the black guys in the band find infuriating.”
The same devotion to reggae that catapulted the band into stardom would eventually wear UB40 down.
“We tour after we make an album,” clarified Campbell. “After we're finished and the interest has waned, we go back in and make another one. And then go back out on the road. That's how it's gone for the last 25 years really.”
To put it succinctly, UB40 burned out. When they rejoined after a break, the process of creating albums changed. The band owned its own studio, allowing members to come and go during the recording of records. Subsequently, the last two or three UB40 albums suffered, according to Campbell.
“We were making records by numbers really,” admitted Campbell. “We were doing it in shifts because we could go in when we felt like it. We were kind of composing without each other. We'd still end up with stuff we liked, but it was never quite a UB40 record.”
So the brothers Campbell and company went back to its roots to record 2006's “Who You Fighting For?” The record represents the much-bandied-about term “return to form,” as UB40 regrouped and started writing songs the same way it did back in 1978.
“Basically, we decided to get back into a room and play together as a band,” said Campbell, who takes the stage at downtown club 4th & B Tuesday. “It transformed us really. It reinvigorated us. When we started jamming again, everything changed and everyone had smiles on their faces. And we've got an album we're proud of again. I think it's the best thing we've done in donkey's years, I really do.”
The same devotion to reggae that catapulted the band into stardom would eventually wear UB40 down.
“We tour after we make an album,” clarified Campbell. “After we're finished and the interest has waned, we go back in and make another one. And then go back out on the road. That's how it's gone for the last 25 years really.”
To put it succinctly, UB40 burned out. When they rejoined after a break, the process of creating albums changed. The band owned its own studio, allowing members to come and go during the recording of records. Subsequently, the last two or three UB40 albums suffered, according to Campbell.
“We were making records by numbers really,” admitted Campbell. “We were doing it in shifts because we could go in when we felt like it. We were kind of composing without each other. We'd still end up with stuff we liked, but it was never quite a UB40 record.”
So the brothers Campbell and company went back to its roots to record 2006's “Who You Fighting For?” The record represents the much-bandied-about term “return to form,” as UB40 regrouped and started writing songs the same way it did back in 1978.
“Basically, we decided to get back into a room and play together as a band,” said Campbell, who takes the stage at downtown club 4th & B Tuesday. “It transformed us really. It reinvigorated us. When we started jamming again, everything changed and everyone had smiles on their faces. And we've got an album we're proud of again. I think it's the best thing we've done in donkey's years, I really do.”
Chris Nixon is a San Diego music writer.
Friday, March 17, 2006
Night&Day cover: Mi casa es su casa
House-concert hosts open their doors for concerts that are literally in your face –'The interaction between audience and artist is really personal'By Chris Nixon
For the San Diego Union-Tribune
March 16, 2006
Back before the House of Blues and Ticketmaster were even twinkles in a corporate executive's eye, home entertainment consisted of friends and family sitting around playing music together. The household was the home of music. From families gathering around the piano to sing hymns to scraggly hippies hosting impromptu jam sessions, live music has always thrived in the homes of music fans. Since the advent of the modern music venue, live music moved from homes to clubs. But despite the obvious bonuses of large sound systems and big-name acts, the concert-going club experience does have its downsides.
Performers have to split proceeds with clubs. Bands often run off the stage and jump into tour vans, leaving only a cloud of dust in their wake without any personal interaction with the audience.
Noisy crowds, impersonal settings and high ticket prices are driving audiences out of traditional music spaces and back into homes. In San Diego County, a handful of homeowners host concerts, harking back to a less-corporate music world.
“House concerts used to happen back in the days of the Kingston Trio; even Bob Dylan played a lot of house concerts,” said Jeff Berkley, a local musician who has helped start more than 25 house-concert venues in California. “A lot of that '60s folk music was spawned by these events. 'Come on over and pick a spell.' You know what I mean? That's where house concerts' roots are.”
After touring the country, San Diego folk duo Berkley Hart noticed the nationwide trend of people hosting concerts in their homes. The duo played a few house concerts and the experience stuck with them. After realizing the potential in terms of gaining new fans, the duo started organizing house concerts in San Diego and the rest of California.
“The interaction between audience and artist is really personal,” said Berkley. “The people that experience us at house concerts are always returning fans, and they're fans for life. They never stop coming to your shows after that because they've been turned on in such a personal way.”
Not only do artists gain devout fans, they also make more money with less stress than regular music venues.
“From the artist's perspective, there is no soundcheck or sound system at most of them,” said Berkley. “So, we just walk into the room with our instruments and everything is all set up for us. Then, at the end of the night – and this is not meant in a selfish way – they hand us all the cash that (the homeowner host) collected at the door.”
Lizzie Wann, a local live music promoter and poet, helps Berkley Hart set up new house-concert venues. If someone expresses an interest in hosting a show, Wann can assist in the process. Said Berkley: “Lizzie Wann – the house-concerts guru – trains our house-concert hosts on ways to make it really inexpensive for them.”
“We've developed a guideline sheet – six or seven pages of what our expectations are of the show and giving the potential host an idea of what they need to do to prepare,” said Wann about the learning curve of hosting shows.
Jimmy Duke has been hosting shows at his home in El Cajon since 1998. His Dark Thirty Productions – named for the starting time of all shows, a half an hour after dark – has brought traditional string music and folk artists like Hot Club of Cowtown, Chris Smither and Louise Taylor into his home. But his musical tastes are not limited to folk music.
“Our performances also include jazz, country, classical, opera, pop, bluegrass, Western and world music. Each style of music and its performers bring different groups of supporters to my house. But the mainstay is the large number who have become friends through this project and the local musicians who believe in what we are trying to do.”
For Duke and the other house-concert hosts, this is a labor of love.
“Hosting house concerts is a lot of work and expense,” said Duke, who has built a stage in his living room complete with light and a sound system. “It entails more than setting up a few chairs and making a pot of coffee. Of course, not all house-concert hosts get as carried away as I have been. But the enjoyment of making contact with old friends and meeting new people who love music is spiritually rewarding enough to make the effort worthwhile.”
Chris Clarke – a musician who hosts shows at his home in San Diego's Kensington neighborhood – understands the trials and tribulations of the modern musician trying to make a living.
“I'm also a musician,” said Clarke, who plays guitar, mandolin and upright bass with his old-time string band trio, Monroe Avenue String Band. “I understand very well the financial aspect of the profession and how difficult it is to get audiences engaged, especially out at bars.
“House concerts provide musicians a decent paying night as well as an audience that's engaged. An added bonus is every now and then I get to sit in with musicians in my living room. It's certainly not why I (host concerts), but it is a lot of fun.”
When you boil it down to its essence, the key ingredient to house concerts' success is developing the emotional interaction between musician and audience.
“People come to the shows and they feel like they know the artists, and in some ways they do,” said Wann, who also hosts shows at her own home. “They end up chatting afterward or during the break. So, it's just a much more real connection to the music and the artists.”
Chris Nixon is a San Diego writer.
FIND AN ACT AND PLUNK YOUR MONEY DOWN
There are basically two kinds of house concerts: the private parties hosted just for friends and the house concerts open to the public. Here are some of the house-concert venues in San Diego County:
Dark Thirty Productions; run by Jimmy Duke; ww.darkthirty.com; (619) 443-9622; e-mail, jimmyduke@cox.net:
The Buccaneers – 7:30 tonight; $15
Venice (the Lennon Boys) – March 25; $20
Whit Smith's Hot Jazz Caravan – May 7, $20
Chris Calloway – May 21; $20
Jeff Berkley: “Jimmy does a great job. Jimmy's is very intimate, very professional. He's got a stage and lights.”
Chris Clarke: “Within a few months of moving to San Diego, I went out to Jimmy Duke's house. My tendency is to immediately try and figure out how things are run, how it's done and it works. It seemed like Jimmy put a lot into making it a performance as opposed to a party at someone's house. It was very much all about listening, the music, the performance, the artistry and the songwriting. That was the focus.”
Canyonfolk House Concerts; run by Bill and Shirlee McAndrews; www.canyonfolkhouseconcerts.com; (619) 659-5753; e-mail, canyonfolk@cox.net:
Berkley Hart – May 13; $15
Peggy Watson – July 29; $15
Steve Poltz – Sept. 30; $15
Tim Flannery – Nov. 11; $15
Joel Rafael – January, 2007; $15
Berkley: “We were their first act. Their house burned down in the Harbison Canyon fires. They just rebuilt it, and they actually put in the plans a design to set it up for house concerts. It's a blast. It's always our core group of fans. Those people love music, with all of their heart and soul.”
Clarke House Concerts; run by Chris Clarke; clarkehouseconcerts.com; (619) 291-4954; e-mail, stringmusic@gmail.com:
Chris Clarke doesn't have concerts booked for the next few months, but has plans to add more shows to this year's schedule. Check his Web site for updates.
Berkley: “That's also a Berkley Hart House Concert Revolution (venue). The Clarkes, they are lovers of music. Chris has gotten a lot more involved in bluegrass since starting it, because that's their real love. They like folk music, but their love and passion is all about bluegrass. He's brought in some pretty heavy bluegrass cats. But he also has Gregory Page and us at it too. They've got a really cool old house. They're a young couple, so the audience is very young.”
Meeting Grace; run by Lizzie Wann; meetinggrace.com; (619) 787-8242;e-mail, lizzie@meetinggrace.com:
The Dreamsicles – 8 tonight; $15
Dana Cooper – April 20; $15
Berkley Hart – May 14; $15
Calman Hart: “Lizzie's a poet, so she tends to draw a lot of people who are very artsy. So they're way into the words. It's interesting. You get a different crowd depending on what part of the town or what part of the county you're in. The crowd you're going to get out at Canyonfolk is different from the crowd that shows up at Meeting Grace (urban).”
Berkley: “It's urban. There's a bar across the street. And you can really hear the sounds of the city outside as the show is happening. It's an old San Diego Craftsman home, so it's all hardwood floors. The thing was built in 1918.”
– CHRIS NIXON
HOW THE INTERNET MAKES IT ALL POSSIBLE
Over the 12 years since the Internet has been changing the way we communicate, the information superhighway has played a key role in bringing the hootenanny into the 21st century.
Online booking and ticket sales through e-mail allow house-concert hosts to reach out to new artists and audiences. Hosts also can post schedules and other information on homemade Web sites, spreading the word through technology.
“I would say this would be impossible to do without the Internet,” said local musician Jeff Berkley. “When Berkley Hart started, we had a snail-mail mailing list, and it was so expensive. When (technology) turned the corner and everyone got e-mail, it leveled the playing field.
“And it's the same thing with house concerts. People can literally buy tickets and make reservations online. The address can be sent out only to people who have tickets.”
The Internet has made keeping music fans informed and booking artists easier than ever, according to local house-concert host Chris Clarke.
“As far as interacting with the audience, it's all via the Web and e-mail,” said Clarke, who hosts shows at his Kensington home. “That's how the majority of the people who attend are informed. I do have a phone list for folks who do not have Internet access, and I will give them courtesy calls from time to time. For booking artists, it's really essential.”
– CHRIS NIXON
The greening o' the street: ShamRock 2006
The Gaslamp Quarter lays down a carpet of AstroTurf for ShamRock bash
By Chris Nixon
For the San Diego Union-Tribune
March 16, 2006
The saying goes: “Everybody's Irish on St. Patrick's Day.” Maybe, but not everybody's St. Patrick, a man credited with bringing Christianity to Ireland in the fifth century. March 17 marks the day of St. Patrick's death in 462. It's also the day Americans figured it would be a good day to drink lots of green beer. Go figure.
San Diego took it one step further, covering the streets of the Gaslamp Quarter with AstroTurf and throwing a party downtown and it's been going that way for the past decade.
This year ShamRock rolls out the green carpet for an expected 10,000 to 15,000 party-goers, with DJs and live music to help celebrate Irish heritage (even if you're not Irish) for just one day.
“From the start I actually came to the (Gaslamp Quarter Historical) Foundation with the idea of the block party, the AstroTurf on the street, the name, concept,” said Laurel McFarlane, president of McFarlane Promotions.
ShamRock has booked groups like Flogging Molly and the Young Dubliners to headline the event in years past. The creative booking and top-notch bands give the festival substance.
“We try and keep it Irish-based, but more on the rock side then the traditional side,” said McFarlane. “However, we know people do like the dancing so we always start the block party off with the traditional Irish dancing and then build momentum from that point on.”
McFarlane's one hope, of course, is that people have a good time.
“We just want (people) to be happy and have a great time running around on all that AstroTurf,” she said. “People seem to always just have a great time at this block party more then any other event and leave feeling as if they really had a great St. Patrick's Day.”
The Fenians (Irish rock), the Downs Family (punk) and Skelpin (Irish fiddle music) will head the cast of characters holding down the main stage this year.
Headed by fiddler Patric Petri, the quintet Skelpin combines traditional Irish tunes with Spanish flamenco overtones.
“I've been playing fiddle since I was roughly 4,” said Petrie, who comes by her musical tendencies honestly. “You know, my family has been part of traditional Irish music for at least the last 150 years.”
Petrie – along with Tim Foley (Uilleann pipes, whistle, bodhran, guitar, saxophone, vocals), David Maldonado (flamenco guitar, mandolin), Hector Maldonado (guitar, bass, vocals) and Rowshan Dowlatabadi (button accordion, darbuka, bodhran) – recently returned from a tour of Japan in support of the 2005 release “Rua/Roja.”
St. Patrick's Day has a deeper meaning for the fiddler with Irish roots.
“For some people, it's just an excuse for partying until you puke,” said Petrie. “For my family, it's a day of celebration. Slightly more than one hundred years ago, there were signs everywhere saying, 'No Irish Need Apply.' Through famine and persecution, we've persevered.”
Chris Nixon is a San Diego music writer.
By Chris Nixon
For the San Diego Union-Tribune
March 16, 2006
The saying goes: “Everybody's Irish on St. Patrick's Day.” Maybe, but not everybody's St. Patrick, a man credited with bringing Christianity to Ireland in the fifth century. March 17 marks the day of St. Patrick's death in 462. It's also the day Americans figured it would be a good day to drink lots of green beer. Go figure.
San Diego took it one step further, covering the streets of the Gaslamp Quarter with AstroTurf and throwing a party downtown and it's been going that way for the past decade.
This year ShamRock rolls out the green carpet for an expected 10,000 to 15,000 party-goers, with DJs and live music to help celebrate Irish heritage (even if you're not Irish) for just one day.
“From the start I actually came to the (Gaslamp Quarter Historical) Foundation with the idea of the block party, the AstroTurf on the street, the name, concept,” said Laurel McFarlane, president of McFarlane Promotions.
ShamRock has booked groups like Flogging Molly and the Young Dubliners to headline the event in years past. The creative booking and top-notch bands give the festival substance.
“We try and keep it Irish-based, but more on the rock side then the traditional side,” said McFarlane. “However, we know people do like the dancing so we always start the block party off with the traditional Irish dancing and then build momentum from that point on.”
McFarlane's one hope, of course, is that people have a good time.
“We just want (people) to be happy and have a great time running around on all that AstroTurf,” she said. “People seem to always just have a great time at this block party more then any other event and leave feeling as if they really had a great St. Patrick's Day.”
The Fenians (Irish rock), the Downs Family (punk) and Skelpin (Irish fiddle music) will head the cast of characters holding down the main stage this year.
Headed by fiddler Patric Petri, the quintet Skelpin combines traditional Irish tunes with Spanish flamenco overtones.
“I've been playing fiddle since I was roughly 4,” said Petrie, who comes by her musical tendencies honestly. “You know, my family has been part of traditional Irish music for at least the last 150 years.”
Petrie – along with Tim Foley (Uilleann pipes, whistle, bodhran, guitar, saxophone, vocals), David Maldonado (flamenco guitar, mandolin), Hector Maldonado (guitar, bass, vocals) and Rowshan Dowlatabadi (button accordion, darbuka, bodhran) – recently returned from a tour of Japan in support of the 2005 release “Rua/Roja.”
St. Patrick's Day has a deeper meaning for the fiddler with Irish roots.
“For some people, it's just an excuse for partying until you puke,” said Petrie. “For my family, it's a day of celebration. Slightly more than one hundred years ago, there were signs everywhere saying, 'No Irish Need Apply.' Through famine and persecution, we've persevered.”
Chris Nixon is a San Diego music writer.
Tina Dico expands beyond world of Denmark, Zero 7
Singer Tina Dico, straight outta Denmark
By Chris Nixon
For the San Diego Union-Tribune
March 16, 2006
Since growing up in Denmark, vocalist Tina Dico's world keeps expanding as more music fans worldwide gain exposure to her simple, sultry vocals.
The daughter of a nurse and carpenter raised in her country's second largest city Arhus, the 27-year-old soulful singer found an American and European audience over the past few years working with producers Sam Hardaker and Henry Binns in Zero 7.
But her track record reaches beyond the high-profile collaborations. Dico started her own record label (Finest Gramophone) in 2000, recording a couple of critically acclaimed discs in her homeland.
“Zero 7 was always a side project for me,” said Dico, currently on tour supporting her latest release “In the Red.” “I had already released two albums in my home country when I started working with them.”
While singing on Zero 7's 2003 disc “When It Falls,” and hitting the road on the subsequent tour, Dico learned some serious lessons hanging with the British downtempo group.
“Most important to me, it was amazing to get insight on the lives of artists signed to major labels,” recalled Dico. “How does it all work? What kinds of problems do they face and how much do they have to compromise? It was very inspiring for me, because they were really adamant about what they wanted to do. It was good for me to see that it is possible to not get lost in the big system and just be yourself.”
Despite a long list of influences and influential musical experiences, Dico has focused on remaining true to her roots in the singer-songwriter tradition: “I suppose my guitar is my natural element at the end of the day. That is the tradition I grew up with as well, listening to Dylan and (Leonard) Cohen.”
After signing to a major label in Denmark, Dico attended the Royal Danish Academy of Music but wasn't a good student. Instead of conforming to the school's idea of singing (“jazzy vibrato” as she describes it), the young musician instead moved to London with her guitar and a guitar case full of songs.
After recording and touring with Hardaker and Binns, Dico set off to record her first post-Zero 7 album. Along with Zero 7 collaborators Mozez, Sophie Barker and Sia Furler (coming to the Casbah April 1), the partnership of Binns and Hardaker provided a springboard to bring her own music to new and larger crowds. The resulting album, “In the Red,” showcases Dico's sweet and pure vocals, surrounded by subtle and bittersweet pop accented by electronic touches and lush production.
In contrast, Dico is traveling with just her guitar on this tour, which stops at the Casbah Sunday. Unlike her last stop in San Diego (at 4th & B with Zero 7), Dico will be center-stage.
“I suppose the nerve-racking part of being on your own is you have to hold everything together,” said Dico. “When there are 10 people onstage you can just drift away.”
While she's only 27, Dico's success hasn't come suddenly, so she's been able to stay focused and centered on the most important aspects of her career: singing, songwriting and performing.
“Fortunately, it has been a very healthy slow buildup in a way,” said Dico. “It's not something that's come out of the blue. It's slowly been getting busier and busier over the past three years, so it feels kind of natural now. Having said that, it is something that's really hard and you have to give yourself to it 100 percent.”
Chris Nixon is a San Diego music writer.
By Chris Nixon
For the San Diego Union-Tribune
March 16, 2006
Since growing up in Denmark, vocalist Tina Dico's world keeps expanding as more music fans worldwide gain exposure to her simple, sultry vocals.
The daughter of a nurse and carpenter raised in her country's second largest city Arhus, the 27-year-old soulful singer found an American and European audience over the past few years working with producers Sam Hardaker and Henry Binns in Zero 7.
But her track record reaches beyond the high-profile collaborations. Dico started her own record label (Finest Gramophone) in 2000, recording a couple of critically acclaimed discs in her homeland.
“Zero 7 was always a side project for me,” said Dico, currently on tour supporting her latest release “In the Red.” “I had already released two albums in my home country when I started working with them.”
While singing on Zero 7's 2003 disc “When It Falls,” and hitting the road on the subsequent tour, Dico learned some serious lessons hanging with the British downtempo group.
“Most important to me, it was amazing to get insight on the lives of artists signed to major labels,” recalled Dico. “How does it all work? What kinds of problems do they face and how much do they have to compromise? It was very inspiring for me, because they were really adamant about what they wanted to do. It was good for me to see that it is possible to not get lost in the big system and just be yourself.”
Despite a long list of influences and influential musical experiences, Dico has focused on remaining true to her roots in the singer-songwriter tradition: “I suppose my guitar is my natural element at the end of the day. That is the tradition I grew up with as well, listening to Dylan and (Leonard) Cohen.”
After signing to a major label in Denmark, Dico attended the Royal Danish Academy of Music but wasn't a good student. Instead of conforming to the school's idea of singing (“jazzy vibrato” as she describes it), the young musician instead moved to London with her guitar and a guitar case full of songs.
After recording and touring with Hardaker and Binns, Dico set off to record her first post-Zero 7 album. Along with Zero 7 collaborators Mozez, Sophie Barker and Sia Furler (coming to the Casbah April 1), the partnership of Binns and Hardaker provided a springboard to bring her own music to new and larger crowds. The resulting album, “In the Red,” showcases Dico's sweet and pure vocals, surrounded by subtle and bittersweet pop accented by electronic touches and lush production.
In contrast, Dico is traveling with just her guitar on this tour, which stops at the Casbah Sunday. Unlike her last stop in San Diego (at 4th & B with Zero 7), Dico will be center-stage.
“I suppose the nerve-racking part of being on your own is you have to hold everything together,” said Dico. “When there are 10 people onstage you can just drift away.”
While she's only 27, Dico's success hasn't come suddenly, so she's been able to stay focused and centered on the most important aspects of her career: singing, songwriting and performing.
“Fortunately, it has been a very healthy slow buildup in a way,” said Dico. “It's not something that's come out of the blue. It's slowly been getting busier and busier over the past three years, so it feels kind of natural now. Having said that, it is something that's really hard and you have to give yourself to it 100 percent.”
Chris Nixon is a San Diego music writer.
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