Girl Graffiti by Hotel Lights is a darn fine record. I’m just going to get that out of the way right off the bat because it needs to be said without any pretense or bullshit. That is in fact what makes it such a great record. It doesn’t try to be anything except what it is, a solid acoustic pop album filled with nostalgic songs about love, life, loss, and quiet desperation. These are of course all tried and true subjects, but they seem all the more aching and poignant in the hands of songwriter, Darren Jessee.  The former Ben Folds Five drummer, is still mining the same territory on his third release under the Hotel Lights moniker. You can’t blame him for the “if it ain’t broke” philosophy, however, when the results are this good.

Always In Style

There is a familiar expression, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” The Dropkick Murphys very much adhere to this old adage on their seventh studio album, Going Out In Style, a follow-up to 2007’s The Meanest of Times.  The Massachusetts septet delivers their usual brand of raucous celtic-fried rock n roll with equal parts Pogues and Sex Pistols. Despite the musical similarity to past work, the band, whose profile has risen in recent years thanks to Martin Scorsese’s use of Shipping Out to Boston on the soundtrack to his Oscar-winning The Departed, attempts their most ambitious work to date; a concept album centering around the character of Cornelius Larkin, whose story is told as if at the Irishman’s wake.

Going Out In Style traces Larkin’s life utilizing key stories from the band’s own personal experiences and family folklore.  The liner notes for the record even feature an obituary written by noted Boston author, Michael Patrick MacDonald, perhaps most famous for his memoir, All Souls: A Family Story From Southie. Bassist Ken Casey has been quoted as saying, “Cornelius has passed to the other side, and the album becomes a retrospective of his life.”

In typical Dropkick Murphys fashion, the album begins at a breakneck pace with Hang ‘Em High and hardly ever loses steam.  Bagpipes, accordions, guitars, banjos, tin whistles, and the like all blend together in a cacophony of sound with vocals that sound as if they were recorded by a group of mates drinking ‘round the corner at the local pub.  As ever, the Murphys are a perfect soundtrack for a night of shenanigans on St. Patrick’s Day or even a Tuesday.

The album closes with a take on the traditional Irish song, The Irish Rover, which while it may not replace what many view as the definitive version by The Pogues and The Dubliners, is still a helluva good time.  At their core, that is most certainly what the Dropkick Murphys do best.  They give you songs to scream along to while the whiskey is flowing and there are good times to be had.  Sometimes, that’s really all you need.

Liner Notes: Battlin’ On: An Appreciation of Charlie Louvin 1927-2011

I have been struggling over the past several weeks to find words to heap upon the legacy of country music pioneer, Charlie Louvin, after his recent passing at 83.  At a certain point, the music alone should speak for itself.  Regardless, I will attempt to briefly add something, however meager, to the discourse surrounding his passing.

Charlie’s older brother Ira was killed on a lonely stretch of highway in Missouri in 1965. Charlie would continue to sing without him for another 45 years, nearly twice the time the Louvins spent singing gospel and country music and popularizing what would become known as “close harmony.”  That says a lot about the fortitude of a man who rose to prominence as one half of a whole and had to suddenly go it alone.  It is often painfully clear how prevalent Ira was in Charlie’s thoughts ever after, whether it was the heartbreaking ballad, “Ira,” on Louvin’s star-studded 2007 self-titled album or his recent admission that he always made a little room at center stage for the ghost of his brother, as he could almost feel Ira’s presence whenever he sang.

In the wake of Charlie’s death, much has been made of the figurative “blood” of the Louvin Brothers’ music (there was certainly enough literal blood, especially after Ira’s wife shot him three times in the back after he tried to strangle her).  There was indeed something gritty and of the earth to their music that was not found in the saccharine music of many of their contemporaries.  There was no doubt that the Louvins believed every word they sang. They yearned for “The Christian Life” even if more often than not they fell short of achieving it. They were no angels and I think listeners responded to their honesty and faith.  If they couldn’t convince you that “Satan is Real,” I seriously doubt any preacher could.

I love the cover photo of Louvin’s final album, 2010’s “The Battles Rage On,” which captures the singer in a reflective moment, awash in smoke, as he puffs on his cigarette.  This is very much the man I briefly met in 2009 when he played at the White Mule.  Smoking plaintively, he was quick with a bawdy joke or some comment of disdain for the current Nashville music establishment.  I asked if he had ever visited Columbia before. He replied, “I’ve been to Columbia. They almost killed my ass training on a sand dune at Fort Jackson before they shipped my ass to Korea in 1952.”  When I mentioned a particular tune that he once covered by the Columbia-born Whispering Bill Anderson, Louvin made sure to call me out from the stage later and prove to this “young man” that he still knew it. Even at 82, the ornery Louvin still had something to prove.

Perhaps it was his prickly nature, but Louvin was never much at home in Nashville in the wake of his brother’s death.  I honestly think this suited him just fine. They had no use for him and vice versa.  Instead, he became a hero to such musical country rebels and rock and rollers like Gram Parsons, Lucinda Williams, Elvis Costello, Jeff Tweedy, Bonnie Prince Billy, and Bright Eyes. The list goes on and on.

Even when he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, he refused to stop touring and recording.   Cancer would prove to be just one more battle in a life full of them.  Returning to his roots in gospel, he closed his final album with a faithful take on the traditional “Down by the Riverside,” and finally, even if metaphorically by song, “puts down his burdens.”  He puts down his sword and shield. For Louvin, the battle is finally over.  I take comfort in that.  Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em.  Charlie sure would have.

Party with the Queen

Jack White strikes again. Coming off another busy year touring and recording with his Southern gothic blues outfit, The Dead Weather, the prolific rock n roller sets his sights on resurrecting the “Queen of Rockabilly,” Wanda Jackson.

At 73, “Queen of Rockabilly,” Wanda Jackson still retains the smoldering fire that characterized such 50s singles as “Fujiyama Mama” and “Rock Your Baby.”  Her new album’s title, “The Party Ain’t Over” is a sly reference to the singer’s 1960 hit, “Let’s Have a Party.” Indeed it is a party, with White at the helm as Jackson tears through an album of raucous 50s rockers including “Shakin’ All Over” and “Rip it Up.”  She lends a sexy swing to “Like a Baby” and even shows Amy Winehouse a thing or two as she snarls the singer’s hit, “You Know I’m No Good,” an inspired cover choice.

The centerpiece of the album and indeed the strongest track on the record is a barn burning version of Bob Dylan’s “Thunder on the Mountain,” a standout track on the singer/songwriter’s criminally underrated 2006 opus, “Modern Times.” A fan of Jackson, whom he has described as “an atomic bomb in lipstick,” Dylan suggested the song to his longtime disciple White, having featured the singer’s “I Gotta Know” on his 2006 compilation of musical influences released by Starbucks.  It couldn’t have come off any better, with the horn section, boogie woogie piano, and a blistering guitar solo from the White Stripes front man that sends the song into the stratosphere.

As much as the instrumentation fuels the record, White, ever the Svengali, is always sure to place the singer’s voice front and center.  Much like Jeff Tweedy did for Mavis Staples last year, the music is always there to support the voice, which is showcased to great effect on songs like “Teach Me Tonight,” a loping ballad harking back to 50s standards, as well as the album’s closer, “Blue Yodel #6.” Recalling White’s work on Loretta Lynn’s “Miss Being Mrs.” off 2004’s “Van Lear Rose,” the final track features a simple bluesy acoustic guitar and laid back vocal from Jackson with obvious yodeling.

“The Party Ain’t Over” is deliciously retro recalling the best aspects of rockabilly and country blues from the 50s and 60s.  In producing this record, White has once again polished a gem of an American artist and hopefully called attention to a rewarding back catalog (as this review goes to press, 1960’s classic “Rockin’ with Wanda” is a mere $5.99 on Apple’s iTunes), of which this record is a worthy addition.  While Jackson’s picture is alone on the cover, one can’t help but also consider this equally White’s show with him having selected all the songs as well as overall aesthetics of sound and packaging (did the black and pink color scheme).  Credits aside, this is pure Americana and although it is only January, it will most certainly prove to be one of the best records of the year.

The Dead Weather: Sea of Cowards

I’ve sat down to write this review at least half a dozen times over the past few weeks and found myself absolutely stymied as to how to express my feelings regarding Sea of Cowards, the second offering from Jack White’s (The White Stripes, The Raconteurs) latest project The Dead Weather.  It has become one of those records that often finds itself on my turntable in the middle of the night when I’m sure “Little” Jack Lawrence’s (The Raconteurs, The Greenhornes) pulsing bass lines are disturbing my neighbors. I should be asleep but Sea of Cowards has other plans. It seethes and simmers and drags me head first into White’s Southern Gothic nightmare. There is no escape but I am more than happy to go.

From the opening riff of “Blue Blood Blues” to the final chants of “Old Mary,” the record holds me in its terrifying  grip. Unlike the band’s debut, Horehound, released only last year, this latest effort feels more concise and cohesive.  Even while lacking standout tracks such as “Hang You from the Heavens” and “I Cut Like a Buffalo,” Sea of Cowards plays like an all-night blues session with one song effortlessly segueing into the next. Dean Fertita’s (Queens of the Stone Age) heavy guitar and organ work dominate the mix while White’s drumming is perfect in its ferocity yet lack of flashiness. More often than not Allison Mosshart (The Kills) and White trade vocals and at times it is impossible to discern where one voice ends and the other begins. These two were born to sing together.

Lyrically, the album channels much of the darkness of its music, painting obtuse portraits of spurned lovers and hustlers; broken men and women.  Even when speaking in riddles, the album evokes universal truths of the dark side of human existence when Mosshart declares how “Some people die just a little / Sometimes you die by the drop” from “Die by the Drop.” “No Horse” depicts an equally despairing image of a man who declares, “All my coins are flipped out / I’m just a’ livin’ an’ breathing / On what I steal from myself.” He is/has nothing and simply watches his “cigarette smoking on itself.” There are no hopes and no dreams, only darkness.

The album’s closer, “Old Mary” plays on the Catholic prayer urging the “Mother to the world” to carry our burdens “Now and till the moment of your last breath.” This final line echoes as a chant and mantra that fades long after Sea of Cowards has played its final notes. We carry our burdens now and till the moment of our last breath. Cloaked in blues and heavy rock n roll, The Dead Weather remind us of this. They express the darkest fleeting thoughts and desires that come to us or at least to me most often in the middle of the night. The needle has lifted. White and company are done with me tonight. It’s time to go to bed.

Note: This is a follow-up to my column from May 17th.

Amy Rigby was kind enough to take time out of her American tour with Wreckless Eric to answer a few questions about her time with The Shams. You can check her out in Raleigh, NC at the Berkeley Café on June 10th and in Atlanta, GA at the Star Bar on June 11th. Their new album entitled, Two-Way Family Favourites is available now at http://www.amyrigby.com/amyshop.html.

WJ: I was hoping you could tell me a little about the conception of the group. I know that you had been in a band prior to The Shams called The Last Roundup.

AR: Sue and Amanda and I were all in the early Last Roundup. There was a big influx of Southerners to NYC in the early 80′s; Sue came up from Georgia (Amanda, from Florida, was a roommate of my brother’s at Parsons School of Design) we were all art students come to think of it. We were all big on old records found in thrift shops, lots of old country and 60′s stuff – after having been into punk and odd stuff too. The name The Shams was a combination of The Shaggs (those outsider sisters from New Hampshire) and The Tams, a great beach music group.

WJ: Were you the main songwriter or did Garner and Uprichard contribute as well?

AR: We played a lot of my songs, but a big song for us was 3 AM, written by Amanda’s friend Fay Hart who was married to Steve Nieve. Amanda wrote some great songs we did in Last Roundup and a simple beautiful song called Ice Tea and Sue had some great songs too. Covers were big for us, a Richard Hell song Time,[also] Do Right Woman, and another big thing was Christmas songs which were how we ended up singing together again after Sue and Amanda left Last Roundup – we’d work up Children Go Where I Send Thee, Winter Wonderland, Christmas In Jail – start nipping at a bottle of whiskey and go around ringing our friends’ buzzers in the East Village of Manhattan. They’d buzz us in and we’d come up the stairs strumming and singing softly. They’d open the door and we’d burst into Winter Wonderland. It was before everyone was sick of Christmas songs – the obscure ones got passed around on homemade cassettes back then…

WJ: What would you say your main influences were when performing with the Shams? Have they changed much over the years? Listening to your solo material, I feel like you run the gamut from punk to pop to country.

AR: I’ve always been in love with harmony and vocal parts – from the Everly Brothers, and Beatles to Louvin Brothers, Beach Boys, Supremes, Ronettes, Temptations, Chi-lites – The Shams never let a possible lack of technical ability stop us from trying out an idea that thrilled us. I guess the main thing that changed for me was having a child to raise and trying to make a living – I began to focus more on writing songs and wanting them to count for something – I felt guilty taking time out from working and being a mom if it didn’t seem like it would at least partly contribute to making a living. In The Shams, we loved to rehearse and to perform, but just as much we liked to find the best thrift shop or BBQ in the world.

WJ: There is certainly something to be said for that.

Thanks again to Amy Rigby for this short but sweet interview. Please check her out in Raleigh and Atlanta if you get a chance and, of course, pick up her new record with Wreckless Eric. Also, don’t forget about those precious Shams still waiting for their due.

Liner Notes is a continuing series of articles and interviews about the music that matters to me.

The Shams-3 AM

The Shams-Beauty Parlor Rag

“I consider the Shams to be the sexiest group in music today. The kind of sexiness you either want to marry or defile or emulate, depending on your personality type. They’re the perfect solution to all the confusion between Madonna and whore.” – Richard Hell (1992)

I spend quite a bit of time scouring the dusty shelves of Columbia’s thrift stores in search of forgotten treasures and hidden gems of the musical variety. In fact, the vast majority of my record collection has come from such searches. It is in these stacks of dusty vinyl that I have discovered my love for the Louvin Brothers, Edith Piaf, Clifford Brown, and Billy Stewart. On one such outing a month ago, I visited a store in Cayce where upon finding little vinyl, I began to comb through the store’s vast array of cassette tapes. In doing so, I discovered a treasure trove of demo tapes from forgotten 80s bands including Raleigh’s Soul Train, Athens’ The Skinpops, the Mitch Easter-produced, A Picture Made, and a little-known girl group from New York City called The Shams.

The Shams’ cassette tape consists of a smartly designed sleeve with the demos recorded on a simple TDK tape in remarkable shape for being 22 years old. Lazily popping the cassette into my car player (yes, I still have one of those), I was delighted to hear the sweet soothing harmonies of Sue Garner, Amanda Uprichard, and Amy Rigby. The first thought that occurred to me was that if the Ronettes had been listening to country music, they could have easily been the Shams. Viewed in retrospect, their sound is quite antithetical to everything else on both mainstream and college radio in the late 80s. I had to find out more.

My detective work led me to discover that the band had released a 7” on Bob Mould’s (Husker Du) label in 1990. Obviously no slouches, they quickly followed up with an album and an EP on Matador Records. Reviewing their full length album for Allmusic years after its release, rock journalist Nitsuh Abebe writes that “there is something decidedly postmodern about the Shams’ approach to music, which combines girl group 60s pop with off-kilter jangliness and a sort of country twang.”

Noted punk musician, author, and one-time boyfriend to Uprichard, Richard Hell wrote in 1992 that “in trying to figure out what makes the Shams so original, what comes to mind is that their songs deal with the things that women discuss amongst themselves…[which] when it’s done with good will, intelligence, humor, and three-part harmonies…the result is really unique.” He’s certainly not wrong, with lyrics like “It’s only sorta 3 A.M. / the baby’s waking up again/ and I just wanna smoke and drink/ and stay out late with men again” from “3 A.M.” off their first 7”. Hell even goes so far as to coin their sound “beauty parlor soul” after a song that I would soon learn is found only on my demo tape called “Beauty Parlor Rag.”

In searching out the origins of my mysterious tape, I soon discovered that Uprichard has become a fashion maven, while both Garner and Rigby have gone on to notable solo careers. Rigby in particular has released a slew of fantastic albums including 1996’s Diary of a Mod Housewife, 2005’s Little Fugitive, and her latest effort, Wreckless Eric & Amy Rigby from 2008. That is indeed Wreckless Eric of “Whole Wide World” fame who has been married to and making music with Rigby for the past several years.

Through the power of the Internet and Twitter, I was able to connect with Rigby and soon discovered that my tape was quite rare-so rare in fact that she doesn’t even own a copy! I then learned from the lovely songstress that some twenty years ago the girls’ van broke down in the capital city, and they spent several days holed up in a motel room watching TV and eating at Maurice’s Piggy Park. When I quizzed Rigby about how she could remember Maurice’s after so many years she replied, “I never forget a BBQ place.” This is a cool lady.

Though the Shams’s Matador releases are long out of print, their influence on Americana and Alternative Country is clear with writers like Greg Haymes of The Times Union calling them the “queens of urban folkdom” and “riot grrls unplugged.” This is most certainly a band that deserves rediscovery. Intrepid audiophiles can easily track down their releases on Amazon and Ebay. Go to it.

www.amyrigby.com

www.twitter.com/amyrigby

Look for my SceneSC exclusive interview with Amy Rigby coming soon!

Liner Notes is a continuing series of articles about the music that matters to me.

Go Go Dex Baby

Dex Romweber has pretty much seen it all. Since forming Flat Duo Jets in 1983, the rockabilly whirlwind has played on David Letterman, been touted alongside the likes of R.E.M. in the seminal music documentary, Athens,Georgia: Inside/Out, and received a late career boost from Jack White (White Stripes, The Dead Weather).  All the while, not much has changed. Romweber still plays with the same vim and vigor as the 19 year old who stormed the world with his first EP in 1985. He still releases records on a variety of labels and tours the country playing smoky bars and nightclubs.  The audiences, however, have only gotten smaller.

This was certainly the case this past Monday, April 5^th, as Romweber, now playing as the Dex Romweber Duo with drummer sister, Sara, found himself sitting under a tree on the Russell House patio of the USC campus, signature 1965 Silvertone guitar at his side. When I remarked on the potential scarcity of the crowd, Romweber thoughtfully took a drag on his cigarette and replied, “I’m used to it.” Now one might attest this to the fact that Romweber was playing on a Monday at noon to a potential crowd not old enough to remember Flat Duo Jets in their heyday. However, sparse turnouts have also marked Romweber’s last two White Mule shows in the capital city as well.

While this might deter some artists from trudging forward, it is obvious that the music is what keeps him going. As Romweber puts it in the 2006 documentary Two Headed Cow, “The only thing that has not let me down through all this time was my guitar. That was the only thing that was consistently there. Nothing else ever was.” Musician Jason Edge (Original Sinners) sums it up best in the film when he says, “It has nothing to do with whether it’s a solo or not, when Dex breaks into it, it’s just a scary phantom kind of thing. People don’t play that way.” And play he did on the pollen covered patio at USC as he ripped through a set of Flat Duo Jets tunes, 60s garage rock rarities, and new songs like the Jack White produced “The Wind Did Move,” released as a limited edition 45 on White’s new label, Third Man Records.

It is indeed White who has given Romweber his biggest dose of exposure in years by citing the guitar slinger in a 2006 interview with Charlie Rose and more expansively in Davis Guggenheim’s 2008 documentary It Might Get Loud which also features Led Zeppelin’s Jimmy Page and U2’s The Edge discussing their influences.  The influence on the White Stripes is crystal clear. The Stripes utilize a basic guitar and drums line-up like Flat Duo Jets and the Dex Romweber Duo while White’s guitar tone and ferocious playing style also recalls that of Romweber. Listen to the Stripes’s breakout single, “Fell in Love with a Girl” from 2001’s White Blood Cells and compare with the Flat Duo Jets’s cover of “Shape of Things to Come” off 1998’s Wild Blue Yonder and you will see what I mean.

Dex’s admirers have also contributed to his latest album, Ruins of Berlin, released last year on Bloodshot Records. The LP finds Dex trading licks with Rick Miller (Southern Culture on the Skids) and sharing vocals with the likes of indie darlings Neko Case, Cat Power, and X’s Exene Cervenka (another underappreciated artist).  After a brief tour of Europe in May, Romweber will be back on the road in the U.S. trying to eke out a living the same way he has for the past twenty years. Unfortunately, the love from his peers has yet to equal financial independence, hence the gig on the USC patio at noon.  In truth, Romweber may always remain an underappreciated gem and “one of the best kept secrets of the rock n roll underground.” For the man who “taught Jack White how to be Jack White,” it may have to be enough.

Liner Notes is a continuing series of articles about the music that matters to me.