On their third full-length, we find a band who has harnessed a blindingly wide-open sound and wrangled it into focus. The Swedish duo responsible for quietly making some very loud music is back with a new label, a new record, and a full head of steam. After a change to Startracks for their homeland operations, the pieces all fell together and At The Ballroom was born to the world as pearl eyed and wistful as anything they’ve put out in their 11 year career.

      This is no update of sound to catch up with every electro’d indie-popped blog gem. This is the album that defines and cements a band’s footing in the musical landscape. A claim is staked and a plot of land is reserved for Ola Frick and Carina Johansson as At the Ballroom ticks away track after track. Where 2004’s The Orange Billboard gained the pair some well-named mentions and subsequent stateside spins, At The Ballroom-bulging with ideas and craftiness- pops its buttons and moves a size up with relentless energy and a steady stream of accomplished songcraft.

      The Moonbabies rule over a vast empire of sound is evident from the moment you hit play. Their take on pop is unique, but grounded and worlds apart from the connotations that spring up at the mention of a musical twosome. The pair saw a major jump in productivity and confidence between the aforementioned Billboard and At The Ballroom as Frick explains to One Times One via e-mail, “With The Orange Billboard recording sessions we wrote and recorded around 100 songs, compared to this one where we only wrote and recorded around 14-15 songs, 11 of them turned up on the album. It was much easier for us to reach the goal faster, we’re still perfectionists, but this time things fell to the right place easier.”

      Surely this perfection doesn’t come without restraint. As a two-some who play all of their own instruments and only bring in ringers to tour, their sonic pileups never seem forced, in fact, it rarely feels like they’ve had to tinker with their blue prints much at all. As one would guess, this couldn’t be further from the truth and the variations are enough to make even slight fans of this band want to break into their vaults. “Carina on lead vocals, me on lead vocal, Lo-Fi version, Slow version, Heavy version, Dance version…tons of alternate versions, sometimes too good to be unreleased. There are hundreds of versions.”

      With strong hands on the editing suite, The Moonbabies make light work of keeping their nuts and bolts well concealed. Through four strong releases they’ve kept their strand of the pop molecule completely relative to itself, separating cream from crop with rigid discrimination. “We’ve killed so many songs in the studio which were perfectly good or great songs, but somehow they tend to get less interesting by each listening.” Frick says. “Carina recently said, jokingly, in an interview that if a song can’t handle 1000 listens in the studio we throw it in the trashcan.” With this type of self-scrutiny there’s no room left to wonder why you always get the same breathtaking experience song after song.

      The vocals are ever-airy regardless of who is behind the mic and a continually lazy (hammock lazy, never a victim of the couch) haze floats upon them playing perfect peacemaker between their uppity beats and somber reprieves.

      The Moonbabies big step forward is pressed into finality with a lyrical completion that is a welcomed progression for the pair. Melody was something that seemed to be born into this band from the get go, but as far as a wider appeal, a place where their pop can be heard as pop without explanation, it is the disc’s crowning achievement. There is a confidence that dominates the vocals here, the pieces fit together so perfectly that they dominate the landscape. By the time Frick says, “The Ballroom is filled with broken glass/A couple of pieces left/ But if you get lost along the way/ I know you just ran out of luck” he’s just painting away at the last few bare pieces of the canvas. “Dancing In The Sky” closes the doors on The Ballroom with a reflective luster that makes starting the whole thing over again seem obvious if not unavoidable.

      Revelations make for great pop songs. Frick’s, “I just found myself in ways I couldn’t help,” on the lead single, “War On Sound,” is convincing. You understand things about understanding, viewing the process of feeling through eyes almost as familiar as your own. Ironically, that kind of moment making is one part happenstance and possibly one part translation. “It’s funny you mention that line,” he says, “Because I’m still not sure what it means. Or actually I think I do know what I mean. The chorus of the song was written instantly. Lyrics, music, and everything and I haven’t changed a thing. But I like those kinds of lyrics myself, to me all good pop songs need some kind of mystic.”

      The sweeping standout cut, “Cocobelle” is aged with strings and a great drum pound that meets a blippy keyboard grind and airy vocal to swell up in modern Spectoristic bliss. The short and sweet cut falls in line between an upbeat left-of-center Johannson vocal workout and a somber instrumental bridge revealing a versatility that has been with The Moonbabies from the beginning. Trying to hear this record through virgin ears is a testament to the masterful selection and placement of its tracks. At The Ballroom keeps short attention spans in check with a variety that lets you get comfortable just long enough to make you piece together your thoughts before they evolve again.

      Where The Orange Billboard was a sensational album full of life and luster for those who got their hands on it, At The Ballroom finds accessibility without an ounce of compromise. It’s more that The Moonbabies just needed to distill and bottle what had been there from the beginning rather than changing their tune as so many bands do. Their brand of mind blowing-popism hasn’t made a huge jump in sound from their first to their newest, but the subtle maturity of song and craft has been on their heels the whole time. With The Moonbabies At The Ballroom, Ola Frick and Carina Johannsen were finally able to get one step ahead of it.

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What sort of transition has there been from working with Kill Rock Stars to working with Capitol? Was there an added element of pressure approaching this album in a new situation?

Really the transition seemed very smooth. Capitol was very hands off during the recording process, they gave us our budget and we chose the studio, producers, and recording schedule ourselves. There was definitely more pressure in the making of this record, not so much because of the label but because it was a follow-up to Picaresque which we all were very proud of. We knew that with Capitol behind us we were going to reach a larger audience and we didn’t want to disappoint new listeners or old fans. We always want to make the next record to be better than the last one.

It seems pretty clear that a big label can do more in specific senses for a band than an independent, is there anything Capitol can’t do in comparison to Kill Rock Stars?

Capitol is a large company compared to KRS, so in some ways it is hard to know if everyone at the company is behind our record. I think in Capitol’s instance they are and everyone has been very supportive but with KRS we were in direct contact with everyone at the label and there was a real sense of community and friendship. I also think that music fans will seek out bands on a label like KRS and check out whatever is new from them because they trust their tastes. That can’t be true with a major since they have so many different kinds of artists represented.

From early on there has always been a healthy rapport between your band and your fans- was there any backlash, if we can call it that, when you signed?

There were a few people on our message board who exclaimed that we had sold out and were becoming corporate but I think with the making of The Crane Wife most people have realized that we just made another Decemberists record and did not change our aesthetic to fit in with the label.

What are The Decemberists aiming to achieve with this record?

We just wanted to make a great Decemberists record. With our larger budget we wanted to be able to experiment a little and play with the album format and put in the longer songs, etc.

Was the choice to bring Chris Walla back into the studio again a fairly obvious one for you all?

We love working with Chris. He has a great energy and loves to experiment in the studio. He is great at recording and mixing analog (which format we chose for this record).

At what point did Tucker Martine enter the picture too? Are you two connected via Laura Viers or had you known each other for some time prior?

We all loved what Tucker had done in the past, and since Chris Walla wasn’t going to be able to be in the studio the entire time we were excited to bring him on board. Chris and Tucker work very well together and brought very different things to the table. We have known Laura for a few years, she has opened some shows for us and Colin did a solo tour with her last year. I had first heard of Tucker through her but other people had been into his past work with Bill Frisell and Eyvan Kang.

How did you find working with both Tucker and Chris together?

They were great. Chris is the more high energy guy always trying new mic techniques and recording ideas. Tucker is so experienced and is great at getting good sounds out of instruments, helping us clean up arrangements and keeping all the parts locking together (keeping good tempos… he is a drummer you know.) They both are great at mixing as well.

The workspace itself was a bit different for The Crane Wife than it was for Picaresque, how did this play into the sessions?

We realized after recording Picaresque that recording in a church is less than ideal. We wanted a studio with some isolation so we could record more than one track at once. It was also important for us to have the control room isolated to we could discuss ideas while the recording was going on. It was much more comfortable and since we were in there for almost 2 months that was very important. They had a beautiful grand piano as well which made me very happy!

As would be expected, The Decemberists have gone from playing in some very small places to playing some much larger spaces. Would you rather be playing to 200 people or 2000?

It’s been crazy seeing how this band has grown in such a short time. I love all the different rooms. Sometimes we play the best in the small rooms. Now our set-up is somewhat complicated and the small stages don’t work as well (Hammond Organ, Cello, etc.) I like a nice medium size room with an ample stage but it is not so bad that the sound is too boomy or you feel disconnected with the audience.

What have you been doing to gear up for this tour?

We had a week or rehearsals before we left to practice with our new in-ear monitor system and get our new touring member Lisa Molinaro up to speed on the songs. We also needed a little brushing up on the songs since we finished recording the record in May. While we are on the road we try to get out and see the towns we are in as much as possible. Nate, John, and I brought bikes along, which is a fun way to spend the day after being stuck in the bus.

What is down time like for the band? Does everyone hang out or hibernate and then regroup?

We all sort of hibernate and go back to our hidee-holes. We all have houses and families to attend to. We definitely see each other while we are not touring but we don’t live together or anything.

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In this feature Joel Armato reviews the re-release of Hello, Dear Wind and interviews Michael Nau of Page France.

      The story of Hello, Dear Wind is just beginning to unfold. It is a rousing tale of two coasts, good friends, and a school of amorous water dwellers. What began in Maryland after the record’s author was bitten by a horny fish in the throes of passion and ended in Washington State with a CD about to release for the second time only brings us up to speed and familiarity. Still then, it should come as no surprise that an album packed full of songs overflowing with life, color, and imagination would warrant a re-release; the stories in the songs themselves take more than one listen to understand too.

      What started with Baltimore lake swimmer and songwriter Michael Nau and a handful of demos has blossomed into the soulful folkfest of acoustic strumming and tambourine jangles known simply as Page France. A whirlwind on plastic, their sophomore effort’s picturesque storytelling regale shimmers brightly with the rattling surprise of a John Darnielle line and the jaunty freedoms of The Arcade Fire or Polyphonic Spree. Combustive melody and layers of harmony bind together and float with the whimsical, yet emotive pairing of Nau and his swooning counterpart Whitney Mcgraw. Sometimes hyper, sometimes solemn, but thoughtful through and through, Nau sings to people, deities, and animals alike as his Piper-ish march crosses a kaleidoscopic foreground while his troupe’s lush backing tacks on mile after mile.

      While they occasionally trip the lights apocalyptic, Page France’s quintet move through the jubilant Hello roster in a flurry of major chords that ring triumphantly, aiding and abetting the introspect evoked when minors are enlisted. At the outset this platter seems to live in a majestic celebration of momentous crescendo, but some of the lyrics may suggest that parts of this world are a chaotic opposite. Somewhere right around the center of this album is a theme that runs like veins from the first track to the last. What is never mentioned in Page France press material, but spoken of so often in media reviews is the amount of religious imagery flowing through this body of work. Nau’s flakey voice is peppered over songs that specifically and symbolically cite age old Sunday School tales all the while stretching the range of outward praise and seeming despair. While it is easy to focus on all of the theological allusion and Sufjan Stevens comparisons, the heart of this album actually lays a few steps off of the commonly beaten path. “It had a lot to do with the time and place of that record,” Nau remarks via e-mail. “I wasn’t certain of anything, and I was younger than ever, trying harder to figure it all out. There was this dualist battle going on between my physical and spiritual and I was curious about it all. I didn’t know what it was. A lot of people perceive the record to be leaning to a side, but I never intended it to. I wrote that record from a state of most uncertainty.”

      The opener, “Chariot” inches out slowly from the gate, filling in on top of itself before breaking open into a frolicking chant of conclusive request. With chiming xylophone taps and lyrics that inform as much as they request, playing catch up is a necessity not realized until it is too late. Driven by a bass drum that pops itself into a marching snare, the song shifts and meets Mcgraw in the middle who is waiting to carry out Nau’s requisitive call. The maiden track ushers in a standing room only album full of barbs and roses, each looking to be understood in their fated path. Met with its kindred bookend, the disc closing “Feather,” the former seems to boil with optimism in its resolute cause, while its cohort is more somber, showing a knowledged growth in our orator as he looks to have had his request appeased and is now employed by those called upon in his original appeal.

      Working now from the inside out, we find on the rest of the record songs of exposition and exploration; a plenary link between Nau’s call for lenience in ”Goodness” and his loving attachment in the latter stanza of “Dogs.” Page France’s collective self-production talents add salt to the sea of words that Nau’s tides are washed in from. Wind is a topic, as are feathers, a wrecking ball and a circus ringleader. The whole adventure manages to get your head nodding and foot tapping as its topics teeter on the outer rim of eternal ascension. Among recurring reference to angels, the songsmith himself even takes the voice of one or two along the way.

      That’s not to say that Nau is obsessed with death, he hardly touches the stuff, its more along the lines of a curiosity in the mechanics of finalizing events. Interestingly enough as lucid as lyrics like, “Turn the vessel upside down/ Let us swim or let us drown,” or “Circus Composer could you write this all down?/ You let us get closer/ You let us be found,“ sound, Nau’s true intention seems to have been the reverse. “I didn’t want there to be much certainty in that album and that is something that I may have done a poor job on. Perhaps I made myself sound a bit more sure than I actually was. We wanted to create an organic sound of stress and wonderment by using toys and playful words. It came out sounding more free than stressed. I can’t really figure it out.” Whether these are mentions of the rapture or everyday struggles magnified by alliteration is a paradox that makes the record intricately beautiful. Nau is able to bounce between statements that are distinctly cryptic and utterly matter-of-fact with an effortless delivery that seems as natural as everyday conversation.

      In all, Hello is an enthralling ride through the mind of its curator. It may be easy to concentrate on the wonderfully raucous moments of this record, but in reality it is mostly comprised of mid-tempo confessionals. These are the songs where Nau’s prowess shines through. His rotating first person voice and changes in angle breathe lung-fulls of sentiment and raw understanding into Hello. When he says, “I’m as heavy as a feather…Halleluiah,” all supposition is curbed long enough for him to be felt simply as an artist, which doesn’t seem like too much to ask. For Nau, the album seems less about sacramental content and more about finding truth in the answers that he thinks he has. “It eventually has to wear you out, you know? Initially, I was a bit discouraged by how much of the focus was upon those topics. I felt, and still do feel, that the record has a lot more to offer.”

      A rallying ally, Seattle’s Suicide Squeeze Records appear to agree. The indie launch pad is set to re-issue the disc almost a year to the day after its original release. Suicide Squeeze should offer wider distribution and the plucking of a few more strings on the band’s behalf than their hometown champion, Fall Records. Although the events seem to have happened quite quickly, Nau says the band is taking it all in stride, “The hop to Squeeze just felt like the natural next step to take. It’s great to know that the record, and forthcoming records, will be easier to find. We’re thrilled to be working with Suicide Squeeze, and are overjoyed about the forthcomings.” The band hits the road this week for a three month US tour starting where we did, in Baltimore, before jutting West with the endlessly interesting Anthallo on a spree that swings itself to an Easterly end in early December.

      With a double-EP set available now through Fall Records all those discovering Page France for the first time with Hello, Dear Wind’s re-release will have plenty to seek out once the record makes its splash. While the EP’s contain some material that predates the first edition of the album in focus here, nothing will end up on their new record, which Nau says is very near completion. His insights give the EP’s an added bit of intrigue insofar as their difference to the Hello material, “Those EP’s were made up of a lot of backlogged material. Those songs are just not us. We just wanted to do something different, and we felt that an EP would enable a sense of ballsyness, sonically and musically speaking. It was really just something that we needed to do before moving forward.” Chances are Page France will be rolling through one of your neighboring towns between now and Christmas in support of their supplemental release. With a bounty of material that will make Wise Men beam and blush, the Page France circus tent will erupt in song and surprise.

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      Carey Ott has a quality that no amount of marketing could embellish or hide. He is a hard working musician that lets his music do all the talking. His songs have a way of sounding familiar and inventive while at the same time reaching listeners with substance, not lumping them in the head with form. Through a combination of feeling, voice, and the sounds that magnify these talents Ott fills an indie-pop canvas with different shades of some well used colors. Lucid Dream, his solo debut is set to release on the historically country-fried Dualtone label and while his sound is just about anything but honky tonkin’, they think he’s worth the chance.

      Talented where it’s most important, Ott is as convincing a songwriter as he is a singer which is a duality in minority among many of his peers. The subtleties hidden in the record’s production give many of the tracks a complexity that is not overbearing to the lay listener while satisfying the most hardened buffs. Most four minute songs don’t demand this much attention. Where many modern pop contingents would abhor a slide guitar sight unseen, Ott uses it tastefully as a driving force, but only where it fits. Lucid Dream is not a repetitious highlight reel of what’s been successful for other people lately, it is the culmination of an artist’s ambition.

      Ott, formerly of reveled Chicago band Torben Floor, has seen his share of doors opening and doors closing. The alt-rockers were courted by labels and even recorded songs for Atlantic Records, only to be passed on and sent back to the pool of artists on the brink. Understandably, the experience has left him less than optimistic about the business side of being a musician. As his album nears release on a Grammy winning record label with a song featured on ABC’s primetime hit, “Grey’s Anatomy,” Ott speaks skeptically about his current position in the industry, “This is a hard game with a lot of pitfalls and competition and sharks. I’m only beginning to comprehend the difficulties involved with being an artist for hire…I’m learning to not have expectations in this business.”

      This view may have influenced his choice in fellow workers on Lucid Dream. Co-produced alongside of longtime collaborator Ed Tinley and the highly talented Ray Kennedy (Ron Sexsmith, Steve Earle, Lucinda Williams), Ott confesses, “There were three cooks in that kitchen.” Although the artifact speaks for itself, his recollection of their time together is positive. “It was valuable. I have worked with Tinley for years and I had no idea what to expect from Ray, so I wanted to have a close ally with me that appreciated my own vision for the record. Ray got it though and it turned into a great collaboration between the three of us.”

      The sound of Lucid Dream is reminiscent of the more intricate pop stylings of the Actual Tigers or Wilco and while Carey Ott rubs elbows as much with Sondre Lerche as he does with David Gray, his ability to be both concise and meaningful borrows from the best parts of those he is mentioned alongside. Critics many times over have praised Ott’s catchy use of melody, which is a great start, but where he really wins the prize is in his immediate familiarity. These songs, and it is a great group of songs, seem like you’ve heard them somewhere right out of the gate. He is the kind of artist that stays on the tip of your tongue, you relate and assign his sound to moments or periods and are enriched by it in the process.

      The balance between good music and good sound is often buried under the weight that the combination bears. Between Ott’s experience and counterpart producers the scale seems to level. “I’d recorded and produced on my own for over 10 years when Lucid came around, so I had strong ideas about what makes a good production. Ed taught me a lot about understatement. Ray is a master engineer.” The fruits of their labor are brimming with possibility: “Virginia” is a AAA shoe in, while “You Got Love” and “Daylight” are campus anthems. On the other side of the coin, “Mother Madam” and “Sunbathing” are sandal wearing, acoustic goodbyes to summer. The first four tracks alone would make great singles across as many radio platforms.

      Commercially, what is most attractive about the music on Lucid Dream is the fact that the songs offer a variety suited for many degrees of pop success. With that being said, what is most remarkable is that it all seems effortless, natural, and sounds great. Throughout the record Ott is connected, but never over affected. He doesn’t have to bleed on his guitar to convince you that he is sincere, but on the same note he’s not blowing a mic full of hot air. The thoughtfulness in what he sings is paired with the ability to sound good doing it, resulting in a record that you can connect with differently over many listens. Many artists seem to excel in only one of those areas and compensate through gimmicks and distraction to cover the rest. These aren’t songs that live and die by the hook; they’ve already got you by the time the chorus hits.

      While he is undoubtedly gaining speed as a solo artist, his ambition and forward thinking guarantee at least a good fight, should all else fail: “There are always things I hear, production quirks or whatever, that “professionals” sometimes discredit. Like bizarre hums or Casio strings or an airplane flying overhead. Random sounds that I want to incorporate into a production. I hate all of the arbitrary ‘rules’ of the studio. Bullshit. That’s why I plan to produce my own record next time.” From its lush, sweeping arrangements to its gritty rockers, Lucid Dream should be a pleasant surprise to many in 2006 and the year approaching. If Dualtone doesn’t get just what they want out of this trip into the pop music world Carey Ott isn’t the kind of guy to let it slow him down.

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      Comparison is the new Explanation, or so it goes in the world of pop culture 2000 and beyond. To achieve Good (i.e. approval) resemblance to two or more variables already deemed Good is the only requirement. When factoring in a new band to one’s already keen musical sense, one merely needs to ask themself, “Do I like this Good thing and that Good thing?” If the answer is affirmative, then the new band is a must have. It’s so simple and easy to use too!

     All socio-psycho arithmetic aside, there’s this cool band from Brighton, England and they sound just like……ah bollocks!

     When Ian Parton began splitting time between making archeology documentaries and tinkering with a sampler in his bedroom, he didn’t exactly have his current mode of operation in mind. To bring you up to speed: Ian made a few songs, John Peel played one a few times, some people liked it, Zane Lowe played more, and Ian was asked to play Swedish music festival-Accelerator. Ian needed a band. “It came together pretty quickly because I had a deadline. At first it was assembled just for this {Accelerator}, but when we got home we got more offers and before long we were playing SXSW and Japan and stuff.” Somewhere shortly after the Go! Team played Japan and stuff, the demand for their music began to grow and by late 2004 the debut album was released in the UK. After some issues with sample clearance in the US, the record, Thunder, Lightning, Strike was finally issued and gobbled up by American fans with a buzz in their ears.

      In realtime, the band has just concluded a US tour, wrapping things up with a show at New York’s Webster Hall and is currently making a go! of the rest of the free world with shows in Germany, Italy, Belgium, Switzerland, Austria, Australia, and a handful of England’s famous football towns. Ian and live show visualist Bob Jaroc have done a not-so-archeological documentary on the band and Kevin Shields (My Bloody Valentine) is working on a Go! Team remix.

     Not a bad turn of events when you consider Parton’s promotional platform, “I ain’t much of a self promoter so I just let the music go out there and see what happens. It had pretty good reviews right from the start and because we’re on a small label with no advertising budget it was a gradual word of mouth thing, which is what I love. I kinda think if something’s alright people will hear it somehow.” With a year in between the record’s release in two national markets, a considerable amount of talking, blogging, and downloading occurred. The delay of the stateside release provided time for two additional songs to see inclusion on the record and, much to Parton’s surprise, the whole thing was met with a grand reception. “It seems to have struck a chord. It has kinda happened by accident, we certainly didn’t set out to break America, but the music traveled on its own.”

     This brings us back to the equation. As word moved swiftly across the internet after the UK release, many American music fans were first introduced to the Go! Team by reading what kind of head on collision would have to occur to otherwise produce similar noise. The big deal behind this music, however, is not in the story, but rather the craft. With many of the songs completed in Parton’s bedroom before he even had band mates, the over-attenuated, full sound is the result of his use of tweaked samples and live instrumentation. “I’ve always been interested in how you can change a sample by playing different chords and other instruments over the top. I never wanted to just loop a few seconds from someone else’s song and call it mine, for its all about the contrast between stuff- how you can fuck around with it to give new life to something forgotten.”

     For these “forgotten somethings,” Ian turned to his youth. “There is no single band that I looked to for inspiration, it was more a bunch of things that I wanted to ram together and hopefully make something new- all of the things I have loved for years like 60’s girl groups, Sonic Youth, car chase horns, double dutch chants, Bollywood.” The source material serves as a pretty good description of the Go! Team’s music: Infectiously upbeat, while purposely a bit rough around the edges. Experiencing one of their songs is like being caught in a beat driven chain of shuttle launches.

     The beauty of these tunes is the absolute absence of repetition. With each head nodding, drum pounding number copious amounts of versatility are put on display. The Go! Team is not just playing over jangled samples; some songs are closer to old school hip-hop while others pit horns against guitar in a bout for supremacy. Effects, chants, and cheers take the listener through scumbag cop chases, jump rope sessions, and halftime shows all the while keeping everything sounding like a party. Vocal samples are routed around the rhyme stylings of Ninja, the exuberant female MC whose stage presence brings an ounce of interactivity to the Team. With an adaptable delivery that switches from the party folly on “Bottle Rocket” to the explosive, way too short bars of “The Power is On,” Ninja’s fit to this music is pretty much like any other element of it, unexpected but effective all the same.

     “It’s all about trial and error,” Parton says on the subject of writing Go! Team songs. “Remembering samples and melodies I’ve written and sticking them next to each other until it feels like a song. When the song is locked down I stick a whole bunch of live instruments over the top.” The band was given co-production credits for Thunder, Lightning, Strike alongside Ian’s brother, ever busy producer Garth Parton. “It’s actually me in the mixing stage,” Ian continues. “I have a pretty strong idea what it should sound like, which basically involves fucking everything up- distorting it, compressing it, slamming it to tape. There’s never anyone breathing down our neck to clean it up, in fact Memphis Industries (the band’s UK label) actually once told me to go back and make it dirtier.”

     As media coverage continues and the band is projected into spotlights of varying degrees and difficulties, they keep their effer-lauded live show rolling across the globe. With a setup that includes two drum kits, constant instrument swapping, and Ninja’s crowd- including antics, it is hard to stay still at a Go! Team show for very long. The band is still evolving their show, featuring the inclusion of background singers and the occasional gaggle of neighborhood kids at select gigs. As the record may imply, there is never a dull moment with the Go! Team.

     The touring year will bring the Brighton crew back to the states in the spring, which is terrain that Parton seems to enjoy, “It’s pretty surreal,” he explains, “You wake up in a totally alien place every morning and it’s kind of addictive because you don’t know what the next gig will be like. Everything’s an unknown. US crowds are good and they whoop more.”

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 The underbelly is alright.

      The time-honored art of nomadic wandering is one not celebrated too heavily in recent time and memory. Luckily, this is more virtue than shortcoming; for once you look deep into the eyes of a true drifter those old hobo feelings rush right back. Run around the country and get on by any means necessary, surely this is a place where true music comes from. “I lied, I cheated, I stole, and then I wrote about it. It’s a bit more glamorous now. Just ask my band.” James Apollo, a hardened character who has seemingly been on the road since the age of sixteen, speaks with a voice universal to all ideals of searching, adventuring, and conformity dodging. “Wherever I am in life, the core values of being a cheap, lowdown tumbleweed are probably going to prevail.”

      There is no need to put a label on his music. When you hear it, you know where it lives and you’re sitting nervously in it’s apartment, “Texas we ain’t see you cry since 1836 / The part of you that’s born to die is still the part I miss,” and this is just the first line of the album. Without asking and only by taking, Apollo’s license to speak on any subject (geographic or far headier) is a testament to his travels. He’s been there and he’s here to tell you all about it.

      It’s massively difficult to picture one shiny object in Apollo’s road case. Polish would be swallowed by grit and covered in the dust kicked up by any tune on Good Grief, Apollo’s second full length for Aquarium Records. If the James gang were assembled on stage in an appropriately seedy saloon, they would most likely be the background to far seedier business in the fore. It’s all very John Sayles in a Lone Star kind of way. Perhaps it is all of this troubadour lore that completes the James Apollo picture. Rather than particularly heroic musicians he points to life on the road as prime inspiration, “I listened to angry youthful punk and whatnot; I also listened to a lot of old jazz and blues. I would say that sleeping under the stars in the desert or getting the van searched at 4am in the Panhandle played a much bigger role in the music I’m making today.”

      His voice howls in a manner subsequent to the rest of the room around him. Among the instruments wailing behind, Apollo’s projection still bounces off the walls and comes back through the microphone. Occasional croons break the heart in a different way than the dry, matter of fact growl covering the rest of the tracks. The guy can sing about love without an ounce of sap and make you believe he’s tough as nails if not immune. Some of the tracks on Good Grief, “Three Birds,” “Dead Men Weigh More,“ “Neko,” and “Good Grief,” seem to have been written while peering through a crack in the wall of a tumbledown shack. Confidently, Apollo speaks about life the way John Muir spoke about nature and has the slightly updated traveler’s attitude of Woody Guthrie, “Move in, rock out, move on.”

      The songs are snapshots. Nothing on the record clocks in at any longer than four and a half minutes, that doesn’t leave much time to mess around. This makes apt sense considering the project’s recording: tracking took just two days. “It was August, it was hot. We were in an old house high above the Mississippi River, and we just went straight through. No shirts, plenty of scotch. The record plays in under an hour, so really, 48 is taking a long time.” The songs that build do so quickly, the songs that hit harder make their point and the songs that want you to just listen make you sit down and shut up.

      Like Joey Burns (Calexico) with dirtier boots, James Apollo tells one engaging story after another while his guitar pokes and cuts across each of the 13 tracks. When he goes electric the sun comes in the window and shines on the wicked. When he’s acoustic the desert rolls by through an open boxcar door. “Good Grief is still very much a wandering record,” he says in comparison to his last full length. “But it’s a journey you’re going to have to make alone. It’s a bit darker, and the rainbow may not be as bright, but there’s something on the other side of it. It’s the journey, and not the end.” Backed by able-bodied men who lend just enough to these tracks, Apollo comes across in an original way that sounds as fresh as it does nostalgic. As a listener you don’t have to fill in any information for yourself, nothing is vague and most of it is poetry.

      Good Grief has a steady mix of slower tunes that elbow in amongst the drum inflected up-tempo numbers. The band is strictly business, no stunts or ‘look at me’ accents. The music serves the vocals first and foremost and that’s what makes everything work on the record. The music as a whole is what’s cool here, not the organ, not the guitar, not the etc. The production allows an entire sound to resonate, which makes for great listening. Scratch the release date off of the packaging and 2005 would be a low guess on a long list.

      On, “Libertyville” a song named after his birthplace, Apollo seems fine with consequences, so long as they are earned: “I want to die, not from living too long but living too high.” His honesty can’t be argued with because he’s never preaching. Doing for himself as long as he has, he seems too wise to speak on anyone’s life but his own. He doesn’t even let his band hear his songs until it’s time to record. “I work with characters and musicians. Basically, if someone needs 3 weeks to ham out their part in the song, it’s just not going to work. I want instincts.”

      “Mercenary Tango,” with it’s saloon style piano plunking and dual tempos offers modern day insight through a diminutive bevy of characters past. Apollo continues his sage wisdoms and brute honesties with a look at the tactics of sailors and mercenaries. “And every sailor he confides when he sees water comin’ in / How quickly we change sides when we see the mess we’re in”. Socially and metaphorically applicable, Apollo’s music does not have to be solely for the here and now. Instances past and future surely find meaning here in addition to the ever clear present.

      The title, far from Charlie Brown exasperation, is more than a hook to Apollo, “I think it’s almost a shame that it’s a catch phrase. I want people to understand it and not blow it off as a joke. The sun rises and sets. When its been up too long, you start to miss those lonely nights. Then they back and its like an old friend. You say, “Welcome back. You belong here.” This is where Good Grief comes from, lyrically speaking. Apollo’s reply? Speaking to this specifically described grief he fathers this advice, “Welcome back. The air you breathe is the love you lack.” No one is playing cowboy here, but there is an attitude not matching footprints with your coffee house singer/songwriter. His travels are a bit more focused these days, he tours heavily in the US and Europe, but don’t think for a second that his days of wandering have ended, “I get nervous whenever I stand still or can’t see the horizon…We’re taking a breather in September. I’m going to Peru to find the next Machu Picchu. Or get shot by bandits.”

Good Grief is available through Aquarium Records (www.aquariumrecords.com) or James Apollo’s website, www.jamesapollo.com. Buy it.

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Interviewer: Arie Musil

Arie Musil: Talk about the progression made from The Lateness of The Hour to Six Kinds… musically, how do you feel that you have differed, and how have you grown as a person?

Eric Matthews: As a person I have changed a little, as people do over time. In the years since The Lateness I got married, bought the dream house, and in a way really settled in and got comfortable. I believe that this is just a next stage in my life and my music will tend to react to the life I am leading at the time. So on this new set of songs there is something laid back and grown up that comes out, I think. My work before was also of the same serious tone but the nature of my angst has transformed into something else, perhaps not quite as sad sounding.

Musil: All of your lyrics seem to be very personal and possibly true stories. Are they? Or are they conjured up by your imagination– or maybe a mix of the two?

Matthews: I have to really think about this because I am already working on a new record and frankly, there are so many lyrics, stories… But yeah, nearly all of the Six Kinds songs are real-life things. The most obvious story on the record is in “Cardinal is More.” In that one I depict some the internal happenings that led to Richard Davies and I breaking up and the years of silence that followed, but it has a Disney ending (beginning actually, I tell the story in reverse) where I sing about our recent reunion.

There are times in songs where I stray away from myself and will refer to situations that friends are experiencing or every once in a while I work in pure fiction. I make up fantasies about people I don’t know and build up a story.

“You Will Be Happy” is a mix of the personal and the fiction thing I do. It is about a grandfather of someone I am very close to. This grandfather (that I am not at liberty to reveal) was somewhat mysterious in life so I built up a kind of a story about a man who is troubled and possesses a rich history of trouble and romance. It’s a man that was born in the 1890’s and what we do know is that he saw it all.

Musil: What inspires you? What do you find yourself drawn to writing about most and why do you think that is?

Matthews: Music inspires me. I listen to lots of film and television music but in my work I first come up with the music, the chords, the backbone of every song. Later I nail down the main melodies while I write the lyrics. I hear my music (the pattern of chords) and something happens in me where suddenly I am scribbling madly to the melodies that come to mind. I never work on a song, the songs just happen very naturally. The first draft is the final draft, the truth for that idea.

Musil: You’ve been compared to the likes of Paul McCartney, The BeeGees, Nick Drake — and on numerous occasions, Brian Wilson. Who were your musical influences growing up? Who do you listen to now?

Matthews: I grew up on all that stuff. My parents had most of the great pop music of the 60’s. My childhood happened in the 70’s and the music of those men we now know as “hall of fame” masters was still fresh and like ringing from a big bell not yet done vibrating. By 1975 I already knew very closely all of the artists you mentioned. The Vietnam War was barely over and I was the first generation of “kids” raised on the music culture of our young parent’s 1960’s. I am grateful for what feels like a real and close connection to that time.

Now, I listen to very little pop music. It’s been a dead time for decades by my standard. The early 80’s was a strong time but in these last 20 years I think I only have 10 or so artists that I regularly listen to. Jason Falkner, Spookey Ruben, Supergrass, The Divine Comedy, Richard Davies, and then the second tier stuff like Radiohead, Oasis, Jason Wolfstein, Tahiti 80, Ivy, etc. The first group are what I consider absolute masters of what we do. The second grouping are all genius’ who I love but somehow not as heavy and not as reliable. By this I mean, the body of work is either not long enough or inconsistent to the point of making me wish I were them…

Musil: Six Kinds… is significantly shorter than your previous two albums. Why did you choose to go with seven songs?

Matthews: It was of course not of my choosing. The label I am working with wanted to ease my stuff back in front of the music-buying public. I hated the idea but they were not the only ones. Many labels over the past years suggested the same thing for me but I didn’t understand. I still don’t but so much time had passed that I thought that I should put my career on the mercy and in the hands of guys like “Empyrian” and just go along with the program. It’s some sort of marketing thing that is over my head. If I had my choice this would have been a double album. There is some sort of trend underway where displaced mini-legends like myself are putting out mini-records or EPs. It’s market trend that somebody far smarter than me understands.

Musil: Speaking of the album, what’s the story behind the album’s title and what meaning does it have to you?

Matthews: It’s a strange title but easy to explain. Six years is the period of time that I was without a recording contract or a home for my music. The title is then to express a feeling of desperation as each of those years passed me by, all the while being full of music/passion that was seeking a way to get out. I was like the Jews wandering the desert after being delivered out of Egypt. And taking that analogy to the next level, I am now eating manna and loving it.

Musil: In “Cardinal Is More,” you make several references to your former partnership with Richard Davies, who sided you in Cardinal. Why did you choose to pay homage to him by using him directly in the lyrics?

Matthews: Yeah, if you look at my story it’s with Richard that I got my start. He brought me in to help make his songs better and in doing so we made what most people think is a great/classic record. This record also brought me lots of attention and jump started my career as a solo artist. We put that record out and soon after my phone started ringing with record companies and radio people asking what I was going to do? So, in a way I took this time to thank Richard for putting me in the limelight. I am a twisted individual so I also took the time to openly express the darker side of our dealings and some of the internal damage that occurred as result of my going off on my own.

Musil: When we spoke earlier, you mentioned that you plan on always living in Oregon. Having toured all over, what makes it most appealing to you?

Matthews: “So Overblown” is the gem of this record. Any song without drums gets an automatic vote from me but this song just soars. It’s a series of very long musical ideas all contained in what I think is a very special song. I think that they are all good but I think of parts of sections of songs like the long chorus of “You Will Be Happy”– this is one of my finest moments as a writer. It’s just a glorious idea. It sounds like self adoration but I promise it’s not. That music is from out of me but I am more like you than like me (whoever that is) and very much like an innocent bystander, especially when I have created something so heavy as the two songs just mentioned.

Musil: What do you think the general reaction of your fans will be with the release of the album?

Matthews: My fans will love the songs. If after all this time they still spin my previous records and call themselves “fans” then they will understand what I have done here. They will have hungered for something new so they are the easier sell in a way. If the music was anything less than it is then we would have to wonder but I have handed over a pretty strong set of songs in keeping with the creative qualities exhibited before.

The greater issue then becomes my finding new people who will be introduced to my sound and then react favorably. I get fan mail from the young and the old so I hope that this time around that my songs will break through to those that might benefit from my particular approach. What I mostly have to hope for is some radio play. “Do You Really Want It” is the song going to radio and I think it’s the right choice for it’s upbeat feel laced with my long vocal melodies. For those that don’t know my music it might be a good introduction.

Musil: What is your outlook for this year? Is there anyone you’d like to tour with?

Matthews: I have no plans on touring. I am just going to work on my next record and continue to do session work on other people’s records. I am working on three different album projects right now as we speak. I am starting work on three songs from an Irish band called Pugwash. They are a really cool band but the special thrill on this project is that the producer on the project is one of my all time heroes: Andy Partridge (XTC). It’s going to be a busy year.

Musil: Your disbandment from Cardinal was 11 years ago. What were some of your best memories from it? What did you learn from all of it? And how is your relationship with Davies now?

Matthews: Richard and I are friendly again. From Cardinal I learned that I could write string arrangements and play lots of instruments in the studio. I had dabbled in those things but being in the studio, under contract, managing a tight budget, and with a tighter deadline like we had: is a whole other thing than dabbling. And when put in the fire I did pretty well. Well enough that I had plenty of confidence going into producing “It’s Heavy in Here.” My best memory of Cardinal was just being in the studio with Richard, Tony Lash, Steven Hanford, and my brother (for a day). We just sat around making great music for two long weeks.

Musil: Assuming you’ve heard his work, what’s your opinion on his solo achievements?

Matthews: I think that most of it is pure gold. “Instinct” was a solo record and that thing is gem central. “There’s Never Been A Crowd Like This” is his finest effort so far and I hope someday everybody will have this album. Richard makes two kinds of music. 1. Strange and Beautiful 2. Strange and Frightening.

Musil: How has the musical career experience been for you so far? You’ve got three albums to your name, a loyal fanbase, and you’ve probably seen more of the world in one year than most people ever will. What’s been the most enjoyable part for you thus far?

Matthews: The best part for me is writing the songs. After that it goes downhill. Writing is the discovery and the mystery in what I do. Then comes the playing of all the instruments and the singing and the mixing and the mastering and the artwork and the marketing meetings and the photo sessions and the… all that stuff is actual work beyond what is special about what I really do. It’s like falling in love and just digging into that new person. The rest of love can be great too but nothing like those opening days or weeks. I am not complaining but for a guy like me that was perfectly happy making crappy 4 track recordings (15 years ago) and just playing the songs for friends. It’s a real adjustment to go from that to being a real recording artist in the real world, for money. I love the old days of just being an “artist” eating beans and rice in the big city.

Musil: You mention in the album’s liner notes that “No computers were used in the production of this album.” That’s a very praised move by critics and impressive to other artists. Had you omitted computer use from your other albums before? If not, why did you decide to do so this time?

Matthews: No computers were used on the other two, or the Cardinal record for that matter. I come from the old days when there was no such thing as computers in recording studios. All my projects were recorded on two-inch tape like had been done in the previous four decades of music. I was lucky to get in on the end of history. But that day is done now and most all music is made on computers using very clever software. Lot’s of what you hear now is not completely sung, not completely played, and just, in a way, dishonest. Now you don’t really have to be that good at your instrument or good at singing in tune. With the touch of a button a lesser talent can sound way better than I do standing in front of a microphone in my nightshirt. So I decided to call attention to the way in which I didn’t record this record.

I am not anti-technology, in fact, I just switched my studio over to a computer based system. I happen to believe that computers and this software can be used honestly and morally so this is what I am going to do. Everything I record will be real, no fixed notes, no looped bass parts, no funny business. I did the switch over because I work on so many outside projects and I needed to have the flexibility of receiving “song files” from other studios and just loading them up on my end, doing my work, and then sending them back out. Computers are brilliant for this contribution to my life. People like me used to spend lots of time on planes going to New York and LA and Paris to live in a studio for a month. Now we just turn on our computers and call the FedEx guy. This is nice but I do kind of miss the time spent with the guys.

Musil: Your brother Wes is also included on Six Kinds…, with a guitar solo on ‘Worthy’. How is the chemistry between you two in the studio?

Matthews: Very good. He and I are very close and very similar. On this guitar solo I originally had it written for cello but decided on guitar. I have a demo of me playing this exact guitar solo myself but when I cut the actual recording on the record I sped up the tempo quite a bit. I could have done it myself but Wes is a great guitarist so to save time I had him down to the studio. What takes him 10 minutes takes me one hour. Time is money. Just the other day Wes was telling me that my performance of the guitar solo is way better, but I like the slick nature of his playing. Mine sounds more savage but I am into the controlled color of his chops.

Musil: You last released an album in 1997– what caused the eight year gap and how did you spend your time off?

Matthews: To start, I got dropped by Sub Pop It was 1999 and time for a new album but instead I got shown the door. It wasn’t just me. Most of the established got dropped because Sub Pop was having bad financial troubles. They nearly went out of business with all of us high price tag artists gone they were able to start over and get back on their feet. From 1999 until 2004 I was approached by many labels with tiny offers that were just not what I wanted. I could have put out some really crappy under recorded records during this time but I wanted to wait for the right offer so I just waited. Also in this long time away I just continued to record on my own the best I could. I kept writing new songs and on the side I got more into my side career of playing on other’s records. I worked with Tahiti 80, Ivy, The Dandy Warhols, Brookville, Volovan, Mark Eitzel, and even did some Beach Boys songs for Marina Records on a comp. I started doing “session work” back in 1989 but with my new reputation after those solo records I began getting a lot of high quality work that paid really well. It beats working a real job.

Musil: And, as always, is there anything else that you would like to add?

Matthews: Only to say thank you to everybody out there who has been patient enough to not forget about my music and be here now, ready for my new album. I never stopped working and planning for my return and as a result I have tons of new songs just waiting to be shared with the world. My next record will be my greatest work ever. I remember Martin Gore saying that about Violator and I laughed at the time as it seemed a stupid thing to say, but this time, in my case I really believe it to be. I am back, and hopefully this time to stay.

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BV (Brigham Vicious): The Interviewer. 

GO (Greg Oblivian): The Musician 

BV: Okay, uh I hope this picks up both of us. Okay, these are just basic questions

GO: sure

BV: how did you really get started in music?

GO: um, (takes a bite of a sandwich), well when I was a teenager, in junior high, I bought a guitar from a pawn shop, and just started kinda learning stuff from ear and just kinda listening to records that I really liked and just trying to pick out what was going on with the guitar, and just kinda figured it out by ear, and from there it was a pretty short leap within probably two years I was trying to write songs; put together my first band when I was like 14, 15, it was all guys I went to junior high school with and I just kinda went from there, just like one band would fall apart, and start another band, you know, played people’s parties, lofts, and stuff, just kinda wherever you can play for people, and then you know by the time I had finished high school I had been in several bands, and that’s when I met Jack Yarber, that’s when we started The Gamblers stuff (flips record).

BV: So after The Gamblers is that; The Gamblers started up and then you just started The Oblivians after that? (Another great question from the bonehead interviewer man)

GO: yeah, well The Gamblers (takes another bite), Jack and I had a band before The Gamblers that was actually called The Painkillers

BV: okay

GO: and basically just, it was like a lot of the same ideas and stuff, but we just kind of played a lot of shows as The Painkillers and then changed our name again, cha, we probably changed our name three or four times cuz we kept having lineup changes trying to find the right people to play with

BV: yeah (can’t I say anything intelligent?)

GO: probably came up with, by the time we turned into The Gamblers we had settled on a name, but even then (customer walks through door, “hey man,” customer replies in typical southern joviality: WHATSUP! “Not much”). We had like a fiddle player(?) Greg Easterly, and Rob Thomas was our drummer, and then Jack and I switched off on guitar and organ but we did that for a long time without any bass player or anything, and sometimes Jack would play sax, just kind of whatever struck our fancy. (Helps customer) okay what was that last question?

BV: uh I don’t remember.

GO: ha ha ha (rightly so Mr. O)

BV: uhm, we were talking about different lineup changes in the band

GO: eventually it got to the point to where everybody had kinda was thinking about getting real jobs and stuff rob moved off to college in Louisiana, and Greg Easterly eventually moved down there too and got married so kind of our band was kind of disintegrating and then Eric Friedl moved to Memphis and started working over at Shangri-la (reeeaaalllyy good record shop) and we got to be friends with him and we started rehearsing as a three piece with him, just kinda jammin around and that seemed to work pretty good, then that kind of turned into The Oblivians and started doing that for a while, then that went on that way for a few years when that fell apart we started doing The Gamblers thing again

BV: I remember that, it was around ‘99 ‘98 something like that?

GO: yeah, that was right around when The Oblivians stopped we just thought well we’ll try The Gamblers thing again

BV: uhm did you accomplish everything you wanted to accomplish with The Oblivians?

GO: yeah pretty much, yeah I felt like we were kinda at a dead end and I didn’t really know what else to do with it, our last record (chews and swallows his now cold lunch) up until the last record it had been kind of a thing where we all wrote songs, we all sang songs, we all played tons on guitar, we would rotate (customer leaves) CIAO! See ya man! but then for the last record, nobody had any songs, like I had some songs I was gonna use for a solo record, it would be like an all gospel thing, but nobody else had any songs so we wound up doing all that stuff as an oblivians record, I mean it was a good record, but it was kinda like it wasn’t really Oblivians territory, so we just kind of felt like the other guys didn’t have any songs and it just wasn’t chugging along anymore so we just quit

BV: alright what are your current projects now, what kinda stuff are you workin’ on now?

GO: well, I’m doing the Reigning Sound and I’ve been doing a lot of production work with other bands

BV: anybody in particular?

GO: Mr. Airplane Man, The Cuts, The Porch Ghouls, done some other stuff

BV: The Cuts are great by the way

GO: oh yeah that’s great, its a super record, it a great summertime record, but uh, other bands…just kind of anybody who’s interested is somebody I kinda dig, you know who’d be kind of interesting to do.

BV: Where do you work out of, your own studio, or is there a studio you use?

GO: I have some recording equipment, but usually I do em over at Easley studio, there was a, well I did this Detroit Cobras stuff, but I did that up in Detroit in a studio up there, but yeah it’s been kind of a fun thing to, you know, be involved with other groups peripherally, and not have to be in the band, you know, with the deadly snakes, I did that for a while, I produced their first record, the second record they asked me to join up and be in the band so I produced it and was on it and that wasn’t as fun, I mean it was a good record, but it wasn’t as fun for me because I wasn’t removed because I had to be in the, you know, the soap opera of being in a band as well.

BV: Is there anybody right now we should keep an eye on? In your opinion.

GO: Uh, lets see, yeah, The Cuts (laughs), and Mr. Airplane Man, I feel like both of them will probably jump to bigger labels soon, I think they’ll be popular, I mean I could be wrong

BV: they sound good enough

GO: yeah

BV: what about any Japanese bands, anything you’re into as far as Japanese bands go?

GO: uhm, I’m trying to think… some of the guys from Teengenerate are really into powerpop and they’ve had several bands um, there was Fifi, had a band on the side, I can’t remember what the name of it was, but it was all powerpop, I can’t remember the name of it, but yeah I’ve heard a lot of good Japanese stuff, I haven’t heard anything recently that really blew me away, that’s within like the past six months, but I haven’t heard a lot of the new Japanese stuff though.

BV: Tell me about Legba.

GO: Mmm, the record store?

BV: yeah

GO: yeah, well me and my wife started it about nine months ago, between touring and working with bands and stuff i had been picking up work here and there washing dishes, or cooking, or whatever and just thought it would be nice to have my own store so that when I’m not here I can hire a friend to work here and when I’m in town I don’t have to look for work every six months or whatever. Yeah it’s mainly used records but some new stuff, new cd’s and new Lp’s.

BV: well it seems like it’s doing pretty good, people come in

GO: yeah, we get pretty good foot traffic during the day, and we’ve only been open like I said for about nine months, but we’ve gotten some good write-ups in the local papers and stuff and our business has increased a lot in the past four or five months, it’s been really good.

BV: what made you think to name it Legba?

GO: well I was kinda pressed at the last minute for a for a name for the store, and the whole idea behind the store was to get a lot of decent used stuff and turn people on to things that they’d never heard before, and Legba represents a kind of opening of doors and channels, and if you want to talk to any of the other Haitian spirits, you have to go through him, he was kind of like an intermediary, uh yeah it just kind of seemed appropriate, also I was sitting on my couch and this friend of ours had painted a painting for us and it was called Legba at the crossroads it was on one side of the couch, and on the other side of the couch was a Haitian VeVe(sp), but then it just occurred to me that Legba would be a good name

BV: it’s funny, everything I’ve ever read about Legba he’s either considered a trickster, or a teacher of wisdom

GO: mmm-hmm

BV: so do you consider yourself a trickster or a teacher of wisdom?

GO: (Laughing) both! I think both are pretty appropriate for what we do here, but yeah I’m trying to share information with people who are interested you know

BV: yeah, I thought it was pretty ironic that you named it that, I just did a big paper on the crossroads for a folklore class and he’s all in there

GO: oh yeah

BV: so I thought it was pretty cool that you called the store that, when I thought about it more I was like yeah to the people who don’t really understand what he’s trying to do, he’s kind of a trickster

GO: yeah

BV: but the people that do, he’ a teacher of wisdom (didn’t we already go over this?)

GO: yeah, it goes both ways (laughing, probably at me)

BV: what have you been listening to lately, whets your thing right now?

GO: hum, I really, to be honest, except for the few things that jump out at me I listen to old music, I really don’t listen to a lot of modern stuff

BV: so there’s nothing in particular you listen to a whole lot?

GO: there are a few things I always listen to a lot, that are just kind of staples that, I don’t know, I just listen to a lot, Dan Penn’s Nobody’s Fool album, that’s one that I listen to a lot, that Reckless Eric’s Donovan of Trash, um, and Sympathy put out this thing a couple of months back that was Roky Ericson demos that was from the late seventies, and early eighties, I been listening to that a lot and the Sir Doug’s honky blues album, been listening to that a lot lately, but that’s, I think if there’s anything else, oh, I found this album from Texas, from like ‘78, ‘79, a band called The Rokker R-O-K-K-E-R and it’s like a late seventies punk record, I’ve been listening to that a lot, it’s pretty decent for like Austin punk, you know it’s pretty early for that kind of stuff.

BV: Any advice for the kid making noise in his garage?

GO: um, forget about shock value and latch onto some good melodies, you know that’s where it’s at, be it punk or pop, or new wave, country; melodies and good hooks make any music good, that’s what it’s all about, so you know, whether its fast it doesn’t matter, whether it’s slow it doesn’t matter, but if you’ve got a good melody…it takes a lot for people to realize that cuz sometimes you think, oh man if could just be heavy that would be it, but that’s not it, there’s tons of heavy music out there that’s heavy as all get out that just sounds like shit

BV: okay, (lots of mumbling, not making sense. I obviously wasn’t paying attention) what is probably your favorite quote of all time, by anybody?

GO: mm. a good quote by Keith Richards, which he probably stole from somebody else, all good quotes come from somebody else, the people they’re attributed to never said them, or if they said them they stole them from someone else. Keith said: “if you’re not trying to be somebody,” he was referring to people copying Chuck Berry riffs, and stuff he did, and trying to imitate other people,” if you’re not trying to be somebody you’ll never be anybody,” so like you know, everybody starts off trying to imitate somebody.

BV: What would you want the lasting contribution of Greg Cartwright to be?

GO: a couple of good records to find at a yard sale. (Starts laughing) you know, that’s about it.

BV: that’s all you need!

I am such a crack head, seriously.

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