Solid State

We're going to take a break from your regularly scheduled retro reminiscences, to focus on a current outfit, Mike + Ruthy, who will be rocking the weekly Bluegrass Thursdays series tonight at Nectar's.

I had a great conversation with guitarist/vocalist Mike Merenda a couple of days ago, which I had hoped to post here. Unfortunately, I won't have time to transcribe the whole thing. So I'll sit on that until they come back around. It'll be worth the wait, I promise.

However, at the end of our phoner, I asked Merenda to choose one song from the duo's new album, Million to One, as a personal favorite and why. Here's what he said, as well as the tune itself, "End of Time." 

"End of Time" is sort of the launching point for the whole record. Just from a sonic point of view, I feel it's where the entire record comes from. And from an emotional point, it means the most for me. I definitely tend to write from the ether, and I never know what's going to come on the page. I don't sit down to write anything specifically. I guess I feel like it's to contrived to be like, "Well, now I'm going to go write a song." I try to keep it more organic — although that might be pushing it to say that's exactly my process. 

But that song came about at a very critical point in my life. It was right when Ruthy and my son was born. But then the same week, our friend was killed in Iraq, maybe two days after our son was born. And I had to sort through all of these very high highs, and very low lows: losing a childhood friend, and welcoming my first child into the world. I think that song bounces back and forth between bliss and desperation, and ends up somewhere in between. It's not telling a linear story, but for me it gets a lot of that emotion out of me, and into the world. -Mike Merenda

If you missed last night's five-year Honky Tonk Tuesday anniversary … well, my friends, you missed a hell of a night. The cowboy boot-clad Queen City faithful were in rare, glorious form. You also missed the cameo appearance of the year. And no, I don't mean my humble return to the stage. Though I will say I pulled off a half-decent rendition of Buck Owens' "Close Up the Honky Tonks," and did justice to Gram Parsons' "A Song For You." But the real kicker was a surprise appearance from a local legend …

Neko Case.

OK, I'm messing with you. The local legend was none other than Eugene "Country Band-a Style" mothereffin' Hutz, who dropped by and did a killer version of "Folsom Prison Blues," complete with about three off-the-cuff original verses. Simply put, it was friggin' awesome. So friggin' awesome, in fact, that a female friend of mine approached Hutz outside afterward and said — and I quote — "I want to have your Gypsy babies." True story.

Anyway, speaking of mid-1990s Burlington greats, remember Tim Lauben?

To be honest, I had sorta forgotten about the guy. But back in the day, he was among my favorite local songwriters, right alongside Matt Hutton (Envy) and Tom Lawson (The Pants). But then I stumbled upon a Club Fub compilation over at Brad Searle's excellent website, Bradley's Almanac, and rediscovered how much I used dig his bands, Snowplow, Huffy and My Own Sweet.

So, to continue with the self-congratulatory celebration of 7D's 15-year anniversary, I offer two tracks from the aforementioned Club Fub comp. The first, Huffy's "Carry" from their Sunny Drive Time EP, a cassette I believe may still be in the tape deck of my first car, and probably worn away to nothing. The second is "Marble," from Snowplow's never-competed full-length. Enjoy!

Hey there, Solid State.

Believe it or not, but 7D turns 15 years-old this week. So in honor of that momentous milestone, I'm digging into the vault to find interesting (and potentially embarrassing) music-related mementos involving local bands who were active circa 1995.

Today's find: press photos. Like, actual, physical photos emblazoned with contact info that were gathering dust an old filing cabinet here in the office. As my boss mentioned while we were digging through them earlier, the idea of hard copy press pics feels so quaint compared to the .jpeg and .tif files we rely on now. But back in my day that's how we did it, and that's how we liked it, dangnabbit! Ahem.

But something else struck me about these pics too. Maybe it's just that 7D photog Matt Thorsen took most of them, but they are generally far more interesting and artfully composed than the bulk of the press pics I see on a daily basis, most of which are of the garden variety band-on-a-wall/bridge/tree/field/etc. Perhaps when you don't have the luxury of disposable digital files, you're less complacent about the pics you do take?

In any event, here is a sampling. I'm guessing they'll inspire some fond memories for many of you, as they certainly did me. Tune in later this week when we raid Bradley's Almanac for some Club Fub classics.

If you didn't grow up in the early 1990s, today's date may not have much significance for you. However, if you're old enough to remember "Beverly Hills 90210" — the original, not the atrocity currently airing — then September 2, 2010 is a glorious day indeed: 9/02/10. So with that in mind, I give you the one, the only, David Silver …

My borderline unhealthy love for Das Racist has been well documented in these e-pages this summer. So imagine my delight to find an email with a link to a preview clip in my inbox today. Go ahead, imagine it, dammit … I'll wait.

The Brooklyn-based duo's second mixtape, Sit Down, Man, drops on September 14. But Pitchfork will have an exclusive video premiere of the mixtape's first single, "Who's That? Brooown!" this Thursday. In the meantime, here's the aforementioned preview.

There's been rampant — and silly — speculation around town regarding the strange and sudden disappearance of one Neko Case from the New Pornographers' show this past Friday at Higher Ground. Did she quit the band? Did she pass out in a drug crazed stupor? Did one of her stalkers show up? (Don't look at me, I was at Nectar's.)

I wrote briefly on this in tomorrow's column. But other than noting that she was a no-show, there wasn't much left to report. The folks at Higher Ground were as baffled as the rest of us. Further inquiries to the club and the reps for both the New Pornographers and Case were not returned. That is, until just after the column went to the press. Of course. [That sound you hear is me shaking my fists skyward, cursing the rock and roll gods.]

HG's Alex Crothers writes that Case was — Are you ready? Can you feel the tension? Deep breaths, deeeep breaths — stricken with food poisoning. Yuck.

Here's hoping Ms. Case is feeling better.

And without further ado, part two of my two-part conversation with Tao Rodriguez-Seeger, this time around focusing on art, philosophy and the curious importance of Nirvana. Check out part one here.

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SEVEN DAYS: You said that you're hesitant to call yourself an artist. Why is that?

TAO RODRIGUEZ-SEEGER: Well, because what we do is kinda commercial. And I guess I feel like art and commerciality don't mix too well. I'm sure there is an inevitable co-existing that they have to do. Otherwise, how can we continue to do it? But it always makes me a little uncomfortable when people call us "artists." "Commercial creators," I prefer. Of course it's not as graceful.

7D: [Laughing] No, that's a bit of a mouthful.

TRS: People like to call us artists, and I guess that's OK. I just don't feel very comfortable calling myself an artist. There is artistry in it, for sure. But there is also artistry in motherhood. And cooking. And yoga. But would people call a mother an artist? Doubtful. But they should. The great mothers of our time have created the artists. So why aren't they the artists? It's a semantic quibble and I don't argue it with people when it comes up. But I do think about it. "Is this really art?" "Is Michael Jackson truly an artist?" Or was he?

7D: I actually think he was.

TRS: So do I. I would have to say Michael Jackson actually was an artist. He brought commercial pop music to a really artistic level, at times. Not always. But when he did that first moonwalk on MTV, that was pretty rad, right?

7D: Sure, but was that art? He also forever revolutionized the way music videos were done and what they could be. I'd say that was pretty artful.

TRS: Yeah. And I would say Madonna was even more of artist than Michael Jackson, because she pushed people's assumptions about women, sexuality. I guess that's what it is. Art should make you think, and it should make you a little uncomfortable. Not really uncomfortable, maybe. But a little bit. Because without that level of discomfort, it's harder to get the brain pushing in a new direction than it normally would. People are lazy and they don't want to make leaps of faith. Sometimes it takes someone thinking outside the box and doing something a little weird to make people go, "Oh wow. I never thought of that. It makes me feel uncomfortable. But I think I like it." So yeah there is an argument to be made for what we do as art, for sure. But I don't think it's safe to assume that all musicians are artists.

As mentioned in this week's upcoming Soundbites column, a Q&A I recently conducted with songwriter Tao Rodriguez-Seeger unfortunately wouldn't fit in the music section due to space limitations. However, in the wild and woolly expanse of the internet, no such constraints exist, meaning I can offer you the full, (mostly) unedited transcript of our conversation, rather than the heavily condensed and edited version that would have appeared in print.

In this case, that's actually a very good thing. Because as I found out, in the Seeger family the apple truly doesn't fall far from the tree. And Tao is every bit the engaging, witty, insightful and eloquent person you might expect the grandson of legendary American folk songwriter Pete Seeger to be.

So, in advance of the Tao Seeger Band's performance at the Higher Ground Showcase Lounge this Friday, here is part one of my interview with Tao Rodriguez-Seeger. Part two will appear Wednesday.

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SEVEN DAYS: So, I hear through the grapevine that you play a Creston guitar.

TAO RODRIGUEZ-SEEGER: Fuck yeah, dude! Why wouldn't I? Those things are incredible.

7D: Agreed. How did you find out about Creston?

TRS: It's funny, I've never met him. We talked on the phone and I get his emails with all his new toys. But we've never actually met. I think we're actually gonna meet for the first time at this gig, because he said he's gonna come, which is gonna be awesome.

Anyway, he built a bass for Zack Hickman, who plays bass in Josh Ritter's band. And at the time, he was playing bass in my fiddler's solo project. And I admired the bass. And I said, "Where'd you get that thing?" [Chuckles] And he told me the story. So I called Creston and was like, "Hey, can you make me Bruce Springsteen's Telecaster?"

And he laughed and said, "Well, you know, it's not a Telecaster. It's an Esquire." Which I didn't know.

7D: Me either.

TRS: Anyway, he said he'd love the challenge and he built me this beautiful guitar out of Vermont butternut. It's my main guitar now. I used to be all about acoustic guitars and now I'm all about this electric guitar. I hardly ever play acoustic guitar anymore.

7D: That wasn't the guitar that cracked at the inauguration, was it?

TRS: No. The guitar that cracked at the inaugural was my longtime, sweetheart 12-string guitar made by a good friend of mine, Bruce Taylor, who's been making guitars for my grandfather for years. I had that guitar repaired actually, and I'm still playing it. I mean, Obama signed it. "This land is your land, Barack Obama." I kinda have to play it, don't I?

7D: I think you do.

TRS: I put it on the wall for about a year. And I was sort of, "What do I do with this guitar?" It's this heirloom now and I've never really been into heirlooms. I feel like people who buy Stradivarius and put them on the wall … that's sacrilege. They want to be played. So I had it repaired and actually just took it Colorado with me, which was more of an acoustic-y affair. But the band that's coming with me to Burlington, that will be a loud electric affair.

As I mentioned in today's column, Burlington's Villanelles will be celebrating their new album with a release party at Radio Bean this Saturday. This is despite the fact that they, um, probably won't actually have the record in hand just yet. (It's cool though. I was once in a band that had at least two "release parties" before we actually had the CD available. It happens all the time, actually. Moral of the story: Get the CD back from the duplication company first, then book the release show. It always takes longer than you'll think.)

Anyway, in lieu of the whole disc, Villanelles were kind enough to send over the album's lead track to tide us over. It's breezy little cut, aptly titled "Summertime Hit." Enjoy!

I've spent the last two weeks or so digging into Revelation Skirts, the new album from VT ex-pat Dean Wells, otherwise known as the Capstan Shafts. The album, his first proper studio release and first with another musician, hits stores on August 24. So I have a short feature on Wells and his new musical partner Matt Lemay — who, incidentally, was the critic who first reviewed Wells' music for Pitchfork back in 2007 — in this week's paper.

Anyway, in doing some poking around for the piece, I stumbled across this video from Wells' first-ever live show, an acoustic performance at the Stannard Church, shot by Brian Murphy of late, great False 45th renown. It's a good one and, especially in light of the polished brilliance of Revelation, provides a fascinating contrast and a glimpse at just how far Wells has come. Enjoy.