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Positive No

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positive-no-reinvent-the-space-cover

Today is a great day to stop by Positive No’s Bandcamp page.

The band is selling $5 “Posi 6 Pack” packets of buttons — featuring messages like “You are not alone” and “Believe women” — alongside their propulsive and impassioned new song, “Reinvent The Space.” Even the single’s cover art, designed by multi-talented guitarist Kenneth Close, makes a powerful statement — the hands you see were submitted at the band’s request by harassment survivors, and the proceeds are going directly to Hollaback, a non-profit that focuses on fighting harassment in public spaces.

Positive No is a force for good on so many levels. I got to stop by Pedro Aida’s Audio Verite studio while they were recording recently, and it was such a gift to spend some time with them and see them work. I made sure to snag my buttons first thing this morning to support good music and a good cause, and I hope you’ll do the same.

Positive No — “Reinvent The Space” [Bandcamp]

White Laces

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White Laces

I was very sad to see the news yesterday that White Laces are breaking up. I’ve said this a few times before, but they’re the band that made me want to turn this blog’s attention to the trove of musical talent that Richmond has to offer. That was back in 2011, not long after I started You Hear That, and I can honestly say that decision — and by extension, the group’s self-titled EP — changed my life. The way I plan my days, the relationships I have with other Richmond writers and musicians… I’m not sure what all that would be like had I not picked up their EP at Deep Groove that day.

I’ve written about White Laces and number of times — most recently in praise of their No Floor album — and I thought I’d post a few links as tribute to all the enjoyment and meaning the group’s music has brought me. Think of it as a chronological oral history told by this one fan.

May, 2011: My first post about the band, when I picked the EP at Deep Groove.

September, 2011: About being late to RVA Music Fest but still getting to see them play “Sick Of Summer”

January, 2012: About getting the White Laces/Arches split 7-inch in the mail

August, 2012: My review of Moves

November, 2012: An interview I did with Landis in the wake of the release of their “Heavy Nights” video

October, 2014: My post celebrating the release of Trance

October, 2016: My review of No Floor

I’ll close with a quick copy and paste from the post I wrote when Trance came out, because it feels just as fitting now:

This is an excellent opportunity to pause and look at how justified and good our pride in our city really is. That groundswell doesn’t depend on the success of any one artist or band, and it won’t be made or broken by how many copies of Trance are sold, but when music with such vision and craftsmanship becomes available to the world at large, we can all walk a little taller and listen a little more loudly, whether that’s to White Laces or another band that’s part of the bright and exciting spectrum that comprises the Richmond music community.

White Laces

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white-laces

How rare is it that you get to say that every release a band has put out has been your favorite of theirs to date? I can say that about White Laces. It’s as much a winning streak as it is evidence of the band’s searching nature. They’ve changed a bit with each release, and with No Floor, I think they’ve found something really remarkable.

There’s more synth/programming than ever on this album, and heading in that direction has opened up a powerful pairing — the precision of synthetic elements and the fluidity of Landis Wine’s voice, which is one of the most distinctive in town. The effect is almost visual; when I close my eyes and listen to the choruses of “Cheese” or “Mall Madness,” I see sharp edges layered with colorful, rolling hills. I see contrast. Not dissonance, necessarily, just contrast.

Tori Hovater’s vocals work similarly — they’re such a complement to Wine’s — and I’m wild about the minor turn the grinding synth sound takes during the chorus of “Youth Vote.” It came as a surprise the first time I heard it, but the contrast it builds with the major sound of the verse makes it a surprise that rewards over and over.

On the meaningful and memorable “Dots,” Wine sings “I used to think about time as a living thing.” It seems to me that, by drawing inspiration from the 1980’s, White Laces has found a really exciting way forward — one that has them sounding as lively as ever.

White Laces — “Cheese” [Spotify/iTunes]

Doors Wide Open

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Oleta Adams

Being there. It’s paradoxically simple and incredibly difficult. It’s also a great Wilco album, but that’s beside the point.

I struggle with balancing work and fun and music and running and writing and sleep in a way that ensures that I’m present enough. Home. Awake. Attentive. Resisting “the urge to live inside my telephone,” as Jason Isbell put it. Shit is hard.

I think that’s why seeing Doors Wide Open cover “Get Here” during last week’s Shockoe Session was so affecting. At first glance, it may seem like the lyrics beat the premise into the ground. Here’s just a sampling of the ways Brenda Russell wrote that her significant other can reach her:

  • Railway
  • Sailboat
  • Rope swing
  • Sled
  • Horse
  • Windsurfing
  • Magic carpet
  • Balloon

And that list isn’t even comprehensive. The repetition is silly, on a certain level, but it also reflects the paradox at work here. The increasingly absurd modes of transportation mirror how some of the most elaborate obstacles that stand between us and the people we care about are self-imposed. Maybe a more glass-half-full way of looking at things would be that, regardless of where you go, there’s always a way back. Or as Bill Callahan put it, “No matter how far wrong you’ve gone, you can always turn around.”

The irony here is that I had to spend time away from home to have this experience. But I really enjoyed seeing Doors Wide Open, and I hope to be invited to more Shockoe Sessions. (In Your Ear does a great job — good food, good drinks, good music, good people.) To help ensure it was time well spent, I’m putting Oleta Adams’ version of “Get Here” on my Rx playlist — songs with curative powers — alongside “Three Little Birds” and “dlp 1.1” of William Basinski’s Disintegration Loops.

Oleta Adams — “Get Here” [Spotify/iTunes]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6-37y9GhAA0

Friday News and Notes

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Commonwealth of Notions

Very special edition of Friday News and Notes: It’s time for Commonwealth of Notions Presents! WRIR and venerated DJ/writer/bassist/Off Your Radar contributor Shannon Cleary are teaming up for a sixth iteration of the always-entertaining and brilliantly booked local music showcase/station fundraiser. 13 bands. Two nights. Two venues. Tonight at Gallery5, tomorrow at Strange Matter. It’s the perfect way to simultaneously support and explore Richmond’s music scene.

In that same spirit, here’s an almost-exhaustive bulleted Bandcamp sampler of what’s about to go down:

Friday @ Gallery5 (suggested donation $5)

Saturday @ Strange Matter (suggested donation $7)

Apologies to K.A. PEDERS, who has music on MySpace but my laptop won’t play it for some reason, and I’m not sure I could embed it regardless. All the more reason to head to Strange Matter on Saturday night!

Click here for more info on both nights.

Doll Baby

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Doll Baby

I’m enjoying this new Doll Baby EP. Funny that the tides of 2016 have washed two “polliwog” references ashore. The first track on Sturgill Simpson’s new album is called “Welcome To Earth (Polliwog),” though he’s referring to an inexperienced sailor, whereas Doll Baby may have actual tadpoles in mind. Not sure. Fantastic word either way.

You know what else is great? “Drift.” Lots to like here: Vocals that dip and rise with that combined sense of style and purpose that makes Marissa Paternoster’s singing so compelling, a great drumming passage at the 2:00 mark, guitar sounds that levitate in the verses and swiftly crash down in the choruses… My brain wants those thunderous moments to last longer, but the brevity of that payoff is part of what keeps me coming back. MUST HEAR THOSE TWO MEASURES AGAIN. AND AGAIN. AND AGAIN.

I keep finding myself listening to “Drift” at the intersection of Staples Mill and Dickens, for whatever reason — waiting at that light and looking over at the Comcast building, with that ridiculous shrub area that runs along the front, like the building has a big, green mustache. It’s on the way to daycare, so Toddler YHT is probably developing the same insatiable appetite for the song. Not sure if she has an opinion on the shrubbery.

Check out the rest of the Doll Baby EP here, and if you’re digging them, you can hear a live track (I’ve heard they’re excellent live) on Polliwog producer Bryan Walthall’s latest installment of the Live from G5 series, which is now three volumes deep.

Doll Baby — “Drift” [Bandcamp]

Phil Cook

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Phil Cook

It’s hard to overstate the influence the people in this photo have had on my musical life.

Not long after Phil Cook started playing at last week’s Friday Cheers, I saw Matthew E. White walk through the crowd and settle in near the front, and at the risk of being a little bit of a creeper, I made sure to get a shot of these two hugely important people in one place.

This was my first time seeing Phil Cook play under his own name, but I’ve gotten to see him perform three (I think) times before — twice with Hiss Golden Messenger in Richmond and once with Megafaun in Portland, OR. That 2011 Portland show at the Doug Fir was the seed of something that’s grown much bigger. I’ve written about this idea before, but every single thing the Megafaun diaspora touches or is associated with — HGM, Sylvan Esso, The Shouting Matches, Grandma Sparrow — turns to gold, and those projects and Phil Cook’s solo album have brought me a great deal of happiness in the years since Portland.

Less than a year after that show, the first songs from White’s Big Inner debut (Phil Cook was involved with that too) started appearing on the interweb. I hadn’t been clued into Fight the Big Bull back then, so these songs were my introduction to White. It was a little like when I first heard White Laces — it felt like I’d stepped on a live power line in my own backyard, like “Holy crap! Was this here all along?” I preordered the album and followed White on all possible social media channels, including his Spotify profile.

I’m not sure how many of y’all use the feature that allows you to see what your friends/the people you follow are listening to, but White’s feed changed everything for me. It’s how I found out about Randy Newman. About Harry Nilsson. About Stevie Wonder. And then Stevie opened up the whole world of soul music for me — Otis Redding, Marvin Gaye, James Brown, Nina Simone… there’s an entire section of my record collection that probably wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for White’s Spotify feed.

The same goes for one of the happiest moments of my life: In the spring of 2014, Mrs. YHT and I did a long weekend in Corolla, NC while she was very pregnant, knowing we were going to skip my family’s summer beach trip that year. On the last day, before heading back to Richmond — and back to reality, where parenthood was imminent — we spent a few minutes in (what I believe is called) Historic Corolla Park literally sitting on the dock of the bay (OK, the Currituck Sound) listening to Otis Redding. For that short time, I felt completely at peace with the world and my place in it. Peace was scarce in those days, given how anxious I was before our daughter was born, so I’ll never forget listening to that song in that setting in that moment. Without Otis Redding, and by extension, Matt White, I’m not sure I would have found that sense of peace.

Toward the end of his Cheers set, Phil Cook dedicated a song to a friend in the audience, and while I can’t remember the exact words of his dedication, it seemed clear he was talking about White. The song ended up being Randy Newman’s “Sail Away.” Two days later, at the P.S. 321 Flea Market in Brooklyn, I found a copy of Newman’s album of the same name. It felt like all the musical connections I’d been thinking about for those two days came together in that one record I was holding. I’d held a copy of the album before — while flipping through records at Deep Groove a while ago — but on Sunday, it felt like the most valuable record in the entire world.

I really wish I had video of Cook doing “Sail Away” on Friday. My phone’s battery was low because I had already taped Cook playing “Crow Black Chicken,” which Ry Cooder recorded for Boomer’s Story. Here’s that recording — it’s a little blurry, but there’s an excellent bass solo from Michael Libramento. And it seems only fitting, given that this is a story about connections, to share that Ry Cooder played on Newman’s Sail Away album.

Phil Cook — “Crow Black Chicken” (Ry Cooder cover) [YouTube]

Avers

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Avers

New Avers!

EggHunt, man. They could easily be sitting back and basking in the brilliance of their recent successes, but it’s full steam ahead with another preorder-worthy release, Omega/Whatever. Out July 29. Love the cover art.

I got to see Avers last Thursday night at the Broadberry as part of a three-band celebration of Virginia Tourism’s new “Virginia is for Music Lovers” campaign (which you should definitely check out — Andrew Cothern is doing really inspiring things in his new role there). No BS! Brass Band was first, Galax-based singer-songwriter Dori Freeman followed (you can read more about her set over at Doug Nunnally’s blog), and Avers closed the show.

I’ve gotten to see Avers a number of times, and have favorite tracks from both their Empty Light LP and their Wasted Tracks EP, but a song I wasn’t familiar with grabbed my attention. “These are the days when everything hurts” it said. “I feel ya,” my internal monologue responded. Turns out it’s one of the tracks on Omega/Whatever, “Everything Hz,” and Consequence of Sound just wrote it up. Very cool.

Avers is packed with capable songwriters, and I’m not sure who penned this one, but the title reminds me of the way The Trillions (another Charlie Glenn outfit) name songs — references to technology, with lyrics that often convey an uneasy feeling about internet culture and digital-age relationships. According to EggHunt’s site, Omega/Whatever traffics in similar concerns: “It’s an album about balance, too, centered around the struggles of living in the modern world.”

Sounds like this is going to hit extremely close to home. Balance is something I’ve been struggling with lately, and I’m really looking forward to hearing what Avers have to say on the subject. “Everything Hz” is certainly a strong, relatable start.

Avers — “Everything Hz” [Soundcloud]

 

Clair Morgan

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Clair Morgan

I took this picture on Record Store Day at Sugar & Twine in Carytown. Seeing these posters around town has made me so happy, because this album that’s bringing me a great deal of joy is poised to do the same for so many other people.

There are a lot of good albums out there, but music that can make you feel pure joy is rare. There has to be something about it that worms way down, through the topsoil of everyday stuff — Is this recycling week? Do I need to go to the grocery store on the way home? — to the core of what makes us who we are. The permanent stuff. The stuff that was forged years ago via childhood experiences we may have only snapshot memories of.

New Lions & the Not-Good Night (streaming now over at Pure Volume) gets to that place. It’s filled with the wonderment that’s harder to feel the older you get, starting with the album’s narrative concept and cover art, both of which were based on Clair Morgan’s two sons. There are lions and fawns and falcons and masks — things that make me want to close my eyes and imagine an animated world where all of this is unfolding. And, as is the case with the animation I find most affecting, there’s a strong undercurrent of darkness to all of it. Tim Skirven’s stunning cover art isn’t all primary colors — the visual universe he created is somewhat ominous, and a quick glance at the track list lets you know that beds are going to catch fire at some point.

And there are lyrics on this album that just knock me over. I can’t help but nod my head when I hear “Don’t understand how we could be depleted” in “Rogue Island,” given the more than somewhat significant energy disparity between my almost-two-year-old daughter and her more than somewhat occasionally sleepy parents. Speaking of foggy consciousness, “The Sea” pulls you into this great middle ground between waking and sleep, but shakes you awake with a line I can’t stop thinking about: “If your perception is wrong, then let it be.” When I interviewed the band for River City Magazine, I loved hearing Morgan talk about this aspect of the album — the idea that how you experience things as a child is vastly different from your experiences as a parent:

“When you think about an adventure you took as a child,” Morgan said, “when you’re looking through that lens, that really happened. But now you’re looking through a completely different lens, whether you’re an adult or a father, and you look back at that scenario from a completely different perspective. What did you not soak in that actually happened that you were not able to absorb?”

But here’s what’s so remarkable: Even without the cover art and the lyrical arc — if I’d heard “Rogue Island” for the first time on the radio without any context — I think I’d still get to that place of wonderment because Morgan puts so much of that feeling into the music he makes. His last album, No Notes, pointed in this same direction, with these beautiful and complicated guitar patterns that few guitarists could execute once, much less in rapid repetition while singing. It’s positively hypnotizing live — I watch, quickly become overwhelmed, and after moving past the thought of “How the hell is he doing that?” I get to a really peaceful, amazed place. Like a kid who’s purely soaking in information because processing it might mean missing something.

Clair Morgan shows are such rich experiences, and it’s not just because of the guitar work. Morgan has surrounded himself with the perfect set of collaborators — the combination of diverse instrumentation and tight precision means that they can go so much further than most bands in exploring ideas and filling them with color and shape. With New Lions, Morgan’s has truly become a shared vision, and the people who have joined him on this journey seamlessly access and add to the adventurous sensibility that made his music exceptional in the first place. The vibes’ countermelody in ‘The Sea.” The great climbing bass lines and backing vocals in “New Company.” The interplay of the guitars in “Amelia Graveheart.” Together, Clair Morgan the band operates as a machine that can convert dreams to reality, whether they’re voicing tricky harmonies, shifting time signatures or engaging in vivid storytelling. When they start playing, it really feels like anything is possible.

Take a look below at Good Day RVA’s excellent “How To Set Your Bed On Fire” video to get a sense of how the group works as a whole. It’s really inspiring, I think, in the same way that New Lions & the Not-Good Night is. To get an even better sense, head to the Broadberry on Friday for the New Lions release party. The lineup is stacked —  Manatree, Spooky Cool, Way, Shape, or Form — and you can get your hands on your own copy of the album, which promises to be a 2016 bright spot, both here in Richmond and elsewhere.

Clair Morgan — “How To Set Your Bed On Fire” [Soundcloud/iTunes]

Thao & The Get Down Stay Down

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Thao Get Down Stay Down

Y’all seen the Kazoo Kid meme? I started seeing gifs and snippets from “You on Kazoo” a couple months ago and decided unequivocally that the Kazoo Kid was awesome. My favorite was (and still is) the “Who are you?” line, which people have used as a reaction to shitty Internet comments. I love it.

A few days after I started seeing all this, I learned via Twitter that the Kazoo Kid is [insert drum roll] my buddy Brett — one of my favorite people in the entire world and a former bandmate (the same group that included Bandmate 4eva Doug). “You on Kazoo” was one of his first acting jobs, and he’s had many since — he’s an extremely talented dude. Incredible voice.

That double verification experience — saying “I like this kid” and then “No, wait — I actually know and like this kid” — it was wild. Like truth itself was confirmed. It was also a little like “Escape (The Piña Colada Song),” but the plot of that song makes my skin crawl, so let’s pretend I didn’t mention it.

Why am I bringing this up now? Because the same thing happened with Thao’s new album: I heard it and loved it when NPR did a first First Listen, and then weeks later learned via Instagram that one of my absolute favorite Richmond musicians — the amazingly talented Charlie Glenn of the Trillions and Avers — has guitar and keyboard credits all over A Man Alive. Made me so happy. Double verified: A Man Alive kicks ass. Need triple verification? Merrill Garbus of tUnE-yArDs produced it, and that influence — the focus on rhythm and general sense of mischief — is strongly felt throughout. So damn good.

Check out early favorite “Nobody Dies” below.

Thao & The Get Down Stay Down — “Nobody Dies” [Spotify/iTunes]