After hurtling full speed ahead in his career for the past near-decade, Ryan Adams announced earlier today that he's decided to step back from releasing music, touring and being a member of his dream team band The Cardinals.
My first response was something to the effect of, "Well, now. That's a shame."
And it was that lack of a knee-jerk response that, to me, means that Ryan might have made the right decision.
Let's look at the (highly subjective) facts:
In 2000, Adams released Heartbreaker, the acoustic agit-folk album that most would consider his masterpiece. For the next four and a half years, he continued to release a string of albums ranging from pop-rock near-perfection (Gold, 2001) to the best Grateful Dead record never released by the Grateful Dead (Cold Roses, early 2005) to the endlessly debated, but downright gorgeously sad Love is Hell EPs (2004).
But the second half of 2005 marked a slow but steady decline in Adams' output.
Both 29 and Jacksonville City Nights (his second and third releases of 2005) were solid but, well, not as enthralling as his earlier work. Easy Tiger, Follow the Lights and this year's Cardinology followed the trend - each record was nothing to scoff at, but certainly nothing to write home about either.
So here's my point: Ryan Adams has written some of the most affecting and beautiful music of the last decade (or even longer if you include his material in Whiskeytown), but everybody needs a rest sometimes. Though Adams wrote about taking a break to mend some emotional and physical wounds (he claims to have lost some hearing on the road), artistically, maybe he needs a break just as badly.
I say this not in a 'Ryan Adams is a washed up hack' sense; no, quite the opposite. Ryan Adams is an immense talent, but even the greatest of artists need to refuel on ideas and inspiration.
So take your time, Ryan. We'll be waiting patiently.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Snubs Stooges, Continues Irrelevance
After years of awful Grammy winners, talentless pop stars gracing the cover of the Rolling Stone and unoriginal rock band hacks being touted by record labels as the next big thing, it’s no surprise that any self-respecting music fan would be quite wary of, shall we say, the corporate rock’n’roll machine.
The Rock And Roll Hall of Fame, though, always seemed to me to be so self-aware that its kitsch factor overshadowed its corporate undertones, still maintaining some form of clever credibility.
Until yesterday.
For yesterday is when the judges at the Hall of Fame announced their inductees of 2009, taken from a larger list of nominees. It’s a pretty solid list, too, until you notice which nominee was left in the dust. The inductees include Metallica, Run D.M.C., Jeff Beck, Little Anthony and the Imperials and Bobby Womack. Left off that list, criminally, is The Stooges, a band responsible for influencing the creation of this little genre we like to call, ahem, punk rock.
(Pause in writing for readers to huff and puff in disgust for several minutes, calm down by listening to something loud and agitated, then realize that said band was undoubtedly influenced by The Stooges, start fuming again, punch the nearest inanimate object, then calm down. Estimated time: Seven minutes).
The actual Hall of Fame building, as supposed to the institution, is a giant glass pyramid overlooking Lake Erie right in the heart of downtown Cleveland. It houses a handful of theaters showing flicks about the magic of rock music and the badass-ness of bands like The Who.
The whole establishment hallows the forefathers of rock music with shrines and exhibits where the actual edge of rock’n’roll is softed, archived and presented in glass cases. Is it lame? Of course, but it’s endearing as well.
The Hall of Fame is a lot like your soft-spoken uncle who used to drop a whole lot of acid and then roll around in the snow naked in the 60s, but now just sits at family picnics eating potato salad and referencing his youth with phrases like “Well, back then things were different” and “Oh, we were kids then.”
In other words, The Hall of Fame gives you a glimpse of the wild world of rock, but is careful to watch its manners.
But still, for an institution that proposes to honor the golden age of rock’n’roll, the bands who really made an impact on the world of music, it sure as hell missed the mark. Are other bands more popular than The Stooges? Yes. In fact, most bands are more popular than The Stooges. Seriously, name one. There’s a good chance that the band you just named is more popular than The Stooges. But there’s almost no chance that it was more influential.
With front man Iggy Pop’s rattlesnake holler and penchant for bloodying himself onstage, Ron Ashton’s rough and skin-tearing guitar lines (Note: Ashton died in his home just last week, and should be rolling in his grave right now) and Scott Ashton’s jackhammer drumming, The Stooges created raw and driving punk rock nearly a decade before so many bands used the then it-genre to rise to fame.
In the summer of love, The Stooges were preaching destruction with guitar distortion and spastic rock freak-outs.
What’s worse, some of the first wave punk bands that The Stooges influenced have already been inducted, some years ago, to the Hall of Fame. The Clash? 2003. The Ramones and Talking Heads? 2002. Even the more-hype-than-talent Sex Pistols made it in 2006.
What’s worse is that The Stooges were among the nominees, meaning they were willfully passed up.
The Hall of Fame had the chance to actually live up to its potential (that is, to honor the creators and shapers of rock while balancing credibility and family friendliness) and the probably old, white and out-of-touch judges blew it.
Maybe next year the Hall of Fame judges will take their collective head out of their collective ass, park the minivan and throw the James Taylor (who was inducted in 2000) CD out the window, then listen to a Stooges jam and realize what complete rock’n’roll madness they’ve been missing.
The Rock And Roll Hall of Fame, though, always seemed to me to be so self-aware that its kitsch factor overshadowed its corporate undertones, still maintaining some form of clever credibility.
Until yesterday.
For yesterday is when the judges at the Hall of Fame announced their inductees of 2009, taken from a larger list of nominees. It’s a pretty solid list, too, until you notice which nominee was left in the dust. The inductees include Metallica, Run D.M.C., Jeff Beck, Little Anthony and the Imperials and Bobby Womack. Left off that list, criminally, is The Stooges, a band responsible for influencing the creation of this little genre we like to call, ahem, punk rock.
(Pause in writing for readers to huff and puff in disgust for several minutes, calm down by listening to something loud and agitated, then realize that said band was undoubtedly influenced by The Stooges, start fuming again, punch the nearest inanimate object, then calm down. Estimated time: Seven minutes).
The actual Hall of Fame building, as supposed to the institution, is a giant glass pyramid overlooking Lake Erie right in the heart of downtown Cleveland. It houses a handful of theaters showing flicks about the magic of rock music and the badass-ness of bands like The Who.
The whole establishment hallows the forefathers of rock music with shrines and exhibits where the actual edge of rock’n’roll is softed, archived and presented in glass cases. Is it lame? Of course, but it’s endearing as well.
The Hall of Fame is a lot like your soft-spoken uncle who used to drop a whole lot of acid and then roll around in the snow naked in the 60s, but now just sits at family picnics eating potato salad and referencing his youth with phrases like “Well, back then things were different” and “Oh, we were kids then.”
In other words, The Hall of Fame gives you a glimpse of the wild world of rock, but is careful to watch its manners.
But still, for an institution that proposes to honor the golden age of rock’n’roll, the bands who really made an impact on the world of music, it sure as hell missed the mark. Are other bands more popular than The Stooges? Yes. In fact, most bands are more popular than The Stooges. Seriously, name one. There’s a good chance that the band you just named is more popular than The Stooges. But there’s almost no chance that it was more influential.
With front man Iggy Pop’s rattlesnake holler and penchant for bloodying himself onstage, Ron Ashton’s rough and skin-tearing guitar lines (Note: Ashton died in his home just last week, and should be rolling in his grave right now) and Scott Ashton’s jackhammer drumming, The Stooges created raw and driving punk rock nearly a decade before so many bands used the then it-genre to rise to fame.
In the summer of love, The Stooges were preaching destruction with guitar distortion and spastic rock freak-outs.
What’s worse, some of the first wave punk bands that The Stooges influenced have already been inducted, some years ago, to the Hall of Fame. The Clash? 2003. The Ramones and Talking Heads? 2002. Even the more-hype-than-talent Sex Pistols made it in 2006.
What’s worse is that The Stooges were among the nominees, meaning they were willfully passed up.
The Hall of Fame had the chance to actually live up to its potential (that is, to honor the creators and shapers of rock while balancing credibility and family friendliness) and the probably old, white and out-of-touch judges blew it.
Maybe next year the Hall of Fame judges will take their collective head out of their collective ass, park the minivan and throw the James Taylor (who was inducted in 2000) CD out the window, then listen to a Stooges jam and realize what complete rock’n’roll madness they’ve been missing.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Triggers: This Year's Model of Costello-Influenced Bands
At only 35 minutes long, Pittsburgh power-poppers' Triggers' new disc Smoke Show is a quick and undeniably fun listen. But, seriously, with hooks this huge, you can safely leave the record on repeat for more than a few run-throughs. Elvis Costello-swagger-pop hasn't sounded this good since, well, Elvis Costello did it. Here's an interview Gravity Rides Everything did with the band in it's basement practice space.
Practicing on Monday night in preparation for the band’s upcoming gig at the 31st Street Pub, Triggers’ beer bottle filled, poster-adorned Squirrel Hill basement/communal house is completely filled with the band’s propulsive, Costello-on-caffeine rock. But don’t call the neighbors just yet. These are some hospitable boys.
“Do you need earplugs?” asked keyboardist and vocalist Brett Zoric. “I think we have some paper towels you can use.”
Thanks, but no thanks.
Zoric , all arms and legs with thick, black-rimmed glasses, sits behind his dual keyboards. Triggers launch into its catchiest song, “Anyone at Anytime,” beginning with Zoric’s barroom shuffle on the keys. Guitarist/vocalist Adam Rousseau’s jagged riff cuts through the keyboard and launches the band, along with drummer Rich ‘Woody’ Kawood and bassist Joe Kasler into the hyper-catchy song, a mix of Weezer’s crunchy guitars, Maroon 5’s white boy soul vocals and a swagger that’s all their own.
The song ends. Silence.
Zoric cracks a grin and says, “This is usually the part where someone yells ‘you suck!’”
That wry humor is, at least in part, responsible for Triggers existing in the first place. Back in 2005, Kawood and Rousseau were, ahem, asked to exit their former band The You. Conveniently, Zoric and Kasler similarly took a bow from their band Monarch.
“We were kind of the rejects of different bands,” said Rousseau.
“I would always say ‘that drummer and bass player [Rousseau played bass] are awesome’ Apparently, they said the same thing about us. Finally we said we should probably just play together,” said Zoric. “Then we all held hands.”
By the end of that year, Triggers had self-recorded its first EP and began playing around town at local mainstays like Club Café and eventually Brillobox. For the band’s debut album, Smoke Show, released just last year, it was time to bring in some outside help — enter producer John Hiler (Liz Phair, Duncan Sheik). But hearing criticism and actually listening to it were two different things.
“There’s a leap of faith you’ve got to take with a producer. Because he might suggest something, but if you wanted it that way, in a sense, you would’ve written it that way. In the end, you either trust him or you don’t,” said Zoric.
Triggers decided to trust Hiler. The result is 35 minutes of super slick party rock that would make The Cars smile wide and make Elvis Costello lower is glasses to look a bit closer. Zoric’s synthesizer lines trade thumping melodies with Rousseau’s guitar, while Kasler and Kawood are a driving rhythmic force — that is, a force that’ll drive you to the dance floor. Throw in the oft-gang shouted ‘whoa’s and ‘hey’s and you’ve got a power-pop punch in the gut.
But with full time day jobs all, recording a full-length was no easy task.
“During preproduction, we would come home from work at six, then we’d work from then until two in the morning, then get up for work the next day,” said Zoric, who works in real estate. “The good news is, it didn’t let us f**k around.”
For the actual recording, though, the band blissfully took off work to devote necessary attention to the music.
“A lot of bands at our level end up taking months or years [to record] because everyone is working and it’s hard to get studio time,” said Rousseau. “But we took off work, scraped together every penny we had and made this thing in a couple weeks, just banged it out.”
A handful of thousands of dollars later (manager Phil Pierre estimated, “somewhere between 10…and 30 thousand.” Rousseau added, “The key is not to think about it.”), Smoke Show hit local shelves and saw the band begin touring more than ever. But while booking shows has proved fairly simple, the band understands that economic woes, as well as hunger pangs, can dissuade a listener from checking out any band.
“We know what it’s like to put out five bucks for a show. That’s time sitting at a job you hate. Any time someone puts out that five bucks, that’s responsibility for us,” said Zoric. “From the time they come in the door, it’s our job to make sure that person doesn’t think ‘I wish I’d kept that and gone to McDonald’s.’ And that’s a choice. You can eat a foot long sub, or you can walk down the street and see us. It’s our job to make sure people continue to walk down the street.”
Practicing on Monday night in preparation for the band’s upcoming gig at the 31st Street Pub, Triggers’ beer bottle filled, poster-adorned Squirrel Hill basement/communal house is completely filled with the band’s propulsive, Costello-on-caffeine rock. But don’t call the neighbors just yet. These are some hospitable boys.
“Do you need earplugs?” asked keyboardist and vocalist Brett Zoric. “I think we have some paper towels you can use.”
Thanks, but no thanks.
Zoric , all arms and legs with thick, black-rimmed glasses, sits behind his dual keyboards. Triggers launch into its catchiest song, “Anyone at Anytime,” beginning with Zoric’s barroom shuffle on the keys. Guitarist/vocalist Adam Rousseau’s jagged riff cuts through the keyboard and launches the band, along with drummer Rich ‘Woody’ Kawood and bassist Joe Kasler into the hyper-catchy song, a mix of Weezer’s crunchy guitars, Maroon 5’s white boy soul vocals and a swagger that’s all their own.
The song ends. Silence.
Zoric cracks a grin and says, “This is usually the part where someone yells ‘you suck!’”
That wry humor is, at least in part, responsible for Triggers existing in the first place. Back in 2005, Kawood and Rousseau were, ahem, asked to exit their former band The You. Conveniently, Zoric and Kasler similarly took a bow from their band Monarch.
“We were kind of the rejects of different bands,” said Rousseau.
“I would always say ‘that drummer and bass player [Rousseau played bass] are awesome’ Apparently, they said the same thing about us. Finally we said we should probably just play together,” said Zoric. “Then we all held hands.”
By the end of that year, Triggers had self-recorded its first EP and began playing around town at local mainstays like Club Café and eventually Brillobox. For the band’s debut album, Smoke Show, released just last year, it was time to bring in some outside help — enter producer John Hiler (Liz Phair, Duncan Sheik). But hearing criticism and actually listening to it were two different things.
“There’s a leap of faith you’ve got to take with a producer. Because he might suggest something, but if you wanted it that way, in a sense, you would’ve written it that way. In the end, you either trust him or you don’t,” said Zoric.
Triggers decided to trust Hiler. The result is 35 minutes of super slick party rock that would make The Cars smile wide and make Elvis Costello lower is glasses to look a bit closer. Zoric’s synthesizer lines trade thumping melodies with Rousseau’s guitar, while Kasler and Kawood are a driving rhythmic force — that is, a force that’ll drive you to the dance floor. Throw in the oft-gang shouted ‘whoa’s and ‘hey’s and you’ve got a power-pop punch in the gut.
But with full time day jobs all, recording a full-length was no easy task.
“During preproduction, we would come home from work at six, then we’d work from then until two in the morning, then get up for work the next day,” said Zoric, who works in real estate. “The good news is, it didn’t let us f**k around.”
For the actual recording, though, the band blissfully took off work to devote necessary attention to the music.
“A lot of bands at our level end up taking months or years [to record] because everyone is working and it’s hard to get studio time,” said Rousseau. “But we took off work, scraped together every penny we had and made this thing in a couple weeks, just banged it out.”
A handful of thousands of dollars later (manager Phil Pierre estimated, “somewhere between 10…and 30 thousand.” Rousseau added, “The key is not to think about it.”), Smoke Show hit local shelves and saw the band begin touring more than ever. But while booking shows has proved fairly simple, the band understands that economic woes, as well as hunger pangs, can dissuade a listener from checking out any band.
“We know what it’s like to put out five bucks for a show. That’s time sitting at a job you hate. Any time someone puts out that five bucks, that’s responsibility for us,” said Zoric. “From the time they come in the door, it’s our job to make sure that person doesn’t think ‘I wish I’d kept that and gone to McDonald’s.’ And that’s a choice. You can eat a foot long sub, or you can walk down the street and see us. It’s our job to make sure people continue to walk down the street.”
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