Beach House

My interview with Victoria from Beach House appeared in the Charleston City Paper in May, and now that they're visiting Vancouver tonight, I've realized I never posted it. Correcting my mistake right now.

Pop duo Beach House finds time to grow 

In bloom

by Andrea Warner

• Liz Flyntz
• Not your average East Coast beach bums: Beach House's Alex Scally and Victoria Legrand

There's a big difference between indie pop duo Beach House's Teen Dream and singer Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream." Fans of the former can exhale that long breath they've been holding since 2010: Bloom, Beach House's fourth album (due May 15 on the Sub Pop label), is as magical as it is morose, an atmospheric and evocative wonderland. Fans of the latter — well, enjoy the Perry karaoke.

Since 2004, Victoria Legrand and Alex Scally have been the somewhat mysterious forces behind Beach House. Rising up out of Baltimore's increasingly relevant DIY arts scene, the pair make music befitting the arch loneliness and beauty of director Wes Anderson's film. If Bloom were a movie, it might be about the terrible ways we learn to live in the moment, the kind of lessons that come from a loss so sudden it unhinges your grip on life and forces you to think about making the most of things — that is, if Legrand was the type to disclose her private life to the press. She's not, but upon hearing some personal reflection about what the record meant to this listener, the notoriously private singer/songwriter admits that recording Bloom was Beach House's biggest challenge yet.

"Each album we've made is a moment in our lives," Legrand says. "Some people have a scrapbook or a journal, and we have these records. I'm 30, and now it's been a long time making music, but Bloom has been one of the more intense experiences of making an album for us. That's probably the most personal information I can give about it."

Delta Rae

Charleston City Paper, Aug. 22, 2012 

Eric Hölljes talks about Delta Rae's surprising success 

The Surreal Life

by Andrea Warner

Delta Rae's Eric HÖlljes (far right) finds it strange to be on VH1

After playing music for years, brothers Eric and Ian Hölljes decided to start a band, but not just any band. It would have rock and soul and folk and some alt-country elements, and they wanted four-part harmonies with two women. It was to be called Delta Rae. And so they enlisted their sisters, Brittany Hölljes and Elizabeth Hopkins, the former by birth and the latter by honorary status. They wanted an innovative drummer who could switch seamlessly between a traditional kit and a garbage can/metal chain combo, and they found one in Mike McKee. Of course, they also needed a fluid bass player to flesh out the sounds of their guitars and Eric's piano and keys, so in stepped Grant Emerson. But Eric and Ian Hölljes never dreamed about making money doing what they loved.

"When we started the band we had humble expectations," Eric says with a laugh, still sounding a bit dumbstruck. Last year around this time, the band had raised $28,000 from 293 backers through Kickstarter to make their first record, Carry the Fire. By February 2012, they were signed to Sire Records, a division of Warner Bros. Records.

"We were hoping we could make a life out of it and that felt very ambitious in and of itself, and it still does — to make art and be able to survive off of that. But we really threw everything we had into it," Eric says.

Some more than others. Eric adds, "My brother bought a house and we all moved in together in North Carolina. Right from the first week we were rehearsing, and Ian and I had been writing songs together for the band, just like, imagining what it would be like. Then we had our first show within a month, and after that we'd pile into a couple of cars and drive anywhere we could get a gig, and that was three years ago. It's been an amazing trip."

Although his childhood dreams are coming true, Eric finds the whole experience to be a bit surreal. "We're going to be on VH1 tomorrow morning. We all grew up watching MTV and VH1 nonstop, so the fact that we're going to be on that channel — that part doesn't feel real. That part feels pretty strange and amazing. I don't think I imagined this. I maybe dreamed of it and hoped for it, but this is exceeding a lot of what I imagined."

And it happened fast. After capitalizing on a chance connection to Sire Records co-founder and Warner Bros. Records head honcho Seymour Stein, the six-piece went to his Manhattan office and sang a few bars. Stein ran out the door, but he wasn't being rude. He was insisting his colleagues and underlings come listen. Delta Rae had arrived.

But between the successful Kickstarter fundraiser and a special CD release party in their hometown a few weeks ago, there have been plenty of heady, heartening reminders that Delta Rae has cultivated a dedicated following — all without the major label support.

"We have the most amazing fans," Eric says. "It was such a risk. We were trying to raise $20,000, which just seemed so ambitious to us. When we started, we thought we could definitely fail. But the fans exceeded all of our expectations and hopes. We're so grateful. And they're part of this record and this process and this band."

At one recent show at the Cat's Cradle in the band's hometown of Chapel Hill, N.C., the members of Delta Rae discovered exactly what they meant to their fans. "They made over 350 paper torches, little lanterns, and we had no idea about it. But then when they called us back for the encore, the whole crowd had lit these 350 torches and were cheering us on, and it was a very powerful, almost magical, experience. It blew us away."

That feeling, it seems, is mutual. The raves online don't just praise Delta Rae's music, but their live shows as well. All six have been known to leap off the stage and work their way into the center of a huge crowd and belt out a few songs. YouTube videos capture the energy and urgency of their harmonies, pushing each other louder and larger until the entire room feels pressurized, like a balloon about to pop. Think of it as an epic campfire: accessible, catchy, and engaging. And miraculously, Carry the Fire captures that feeling.

"I love music, but I find myself sometimes getting distracted or, dare I say, bored, at shows," Eric says. "As a band we wanted to be exciting and wanted to keep it interesting for the audience. We really embraced that with our live show, and we wanted to translate that onto the record, so we bring horns and strings and trash cans and try different things vocally. It's a bit more experimental. We try to be exciting."

Mission accomplished.

Sara Watkins

My interview with Sara Watkins originally ran in the Charleston City Paper.

Sara Watkins joins forces with Jackson Browne 

Sunny songwriters

by Andrea Warner

A few things stand out when you listen to Sara Watkins' latest album, Sun Midnight Sun (Nonesuch): heartbreak and heartache are plentiful, her famous friends are out in full force (including Fiona Apple, Jackson Browne, and Benmont Tench), and for a fiddle virtuoso coming off 20 years as one-third of famed folk band Nickel Creek, she sure does love to let her pop star shine.
Watkins knows this new record is a departure from her 2009 eponymous solo debut. It's all part of the new reality she's been cultivating — growing up, getting outside her own mind, and challenging herself.

"The first record was establishing a home base, collecting the sources, the places I came from musically," Watkins says, speaking just before the start of a summer tour with Browne. "A lot of my past is represented on the first record. I knew that's what I was doing, establishing a base camp. Making my second record, I got to enjoy stepping away from that, and I got to enjoy collaborating with some new people, namely Blake Mills [from Dawes], who produced the record. We could explore and discover each song as we were recording it."

Mayer Hawthorne

My piece on Mayer Hawthorne ran in the Charleston City Paper Apr. 18.

Mayer Hawthorne steps away from the turntables and grabs the mic 

Sexy soul fun

by Andrea Warner

 

It's no surprise that Mayer Hawthorne has built a name for himself as the latest heir apparent in the great Motown revival. After all, he grew up in Ann Arbor, Mich., just a few well choreographed steps from Detroit. His acclaimed debut indie album, 2009's A Strange Arrangement, won him plenty of admirers thanks to his gift for complex arrangements and a keen marrying of sexy retro-soul with contemporary urban flavor. After that, his shows began selling out and the major labels came calling.

Now, Hawthorne's back on the road supporting his recent follow-up, How Do You Do, which also marks his major label debut on Universal Republic. He admits he had plenty of reservations about taking that next step.

Candlebox

My piece on Candlebox ran in the Charleston City Paper April 15!

The return of Madonna's grunge-era chart-toppers, Candlebox 

More musings from Kevin Martin and co.

by Andrea Warner

 

Seattle was a crowded place for emerging bands in the early '90s. Choked with flannel and attitude, the city became synonymous with grunge music by the likes of Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains, and Soundgarden.

And then there's Candlebox. Who? You know, that song "Far Behind?" Oh, them. Exactly.
Lead singer/songwriter Kevin Martin is well aware that at this point his band is little more than a footnote. But there's satisfaction to be had. After all, two decades later, Candlebox is back with a brand new album, Love Stories and Other Musings. It's a day few people thought they'd ever see — including Martin.

Neko Case

My feature on Neko Case is in this week's Charleston City Paper.

For Neko Case, dry-witted music is a breeze 

A songwriter with tough optimism

by Andrea Warner

 

Neko Case finally makes it to town behind the bad-ass album Middle Cyclone 

There's something about songwriter Neko Case that makes people use a lot of F-words to describe her. Among the most frequent: fiery-haired, funny, fierce, fabulous, foxy, and foul-mouthed. On some level, all of these adjectives are accurate, but they don't provide a complete picture, or even scrape the surface of Case's complexity and influence. At 40, she's hitting her stride, both as a solo artist and as one of the most called-upon collaborators in indie-pop, alt-country, and rock. 

Case is, quite literally, a force to be reckoned with, as virtually everyone who has ever seen her perform live can attest. Her most recent album, the aptly-named 2009 alt-country beauty Middle Cyclone, is her strongest yet. An urgent, lushly orchestrated effort, its imagery, appropriately enough, evokes some of nature's richest tricks and treats. Fittingly, Case describes nature as "the closest relationship I have." The album brims with life, building so much momentum that the record reaches its conclusion well before you're ready for the experience to end. But Case dismisses the notion of a grand plan on her part in sweeping the listener from start to finish.

"Not my intention, so much as a lucky accident," she says. "I can hope for it, but that does not mean it will happen, but I try as hard as I can to steer it that way."

Case's primary co-pilot for this album wasn't another musician, but rather Pulitzer Prize-winning author Annie Dillard, whose books served as Case's main influence while crafting Middle Cyclone. The two share a similar writing style: dry, bemused wit mixed with genuine admiration and appreciation for nature and history. Each is plainspoken and concise, but can craft sentences that are emotional, vivid, and layered with subtext. In fact, one of the best lines Case has ever penned can be found on this album, her haunting alto promising, "Next time you say forever, I will punch you in the face." Blunt and beautiful.

It is a style that has become Case's trademark, made all the more poignant when matched with her soaring vocals. If she and her songs seem a curious paradox of tough-yet-tender, well, it's because that just might be who she is. She has excellent survival skills, having left home at 15, eventually winding her way from Tacoma, Wash., to Vancouver, B.C., to attend art school when she was 24 years old. She's been an artist, a drummer, a go-go dancer, and likely a vast assortment of other jobs that never made it onto the press releases.

When asked if she experienced a lot of rejection early, Case acknowledges she had, and it wasn't easy, but maintains she faced something much harder.

"Poverty," she says. "That's always the ball-stomper. Some days it hurts, some days it doesn't." It's this kind of weariness that infuses Case, and her lyrics, with that core of strength. It's evident on her first album, 1997's The Virginian, but it wasn't until 2002, following the release of her third album, that Case's career paired traction with speed.

"People started coming out in larger numbers after Blacklisted," Case recalls. "That's when I got a second of being on the radar."

Simultaneously, Case was also finding success as a quasi-member of the Vancouver-based power-pop band the New Pornographers. Case has recorded and toured with the band off and on since their 2000 surprise indie hit, Mass Romantic. In fact, she's spent a substantial part of the last year touring with the group in support of its fifth release, 2010's Together. She's also one of the most sought-after vocalists in the industry, wracking up more guest spots than most rappers. But the majority of her moonlighting is reserved for a select group.

"I work with people I know, if I have time, which these days is seldom," she says. "[The New Pornographers, Sarah Harmer, the Dodos] are family, and we already spend a bit of time together so it's a little easier."

Case's busy schedule seemed to take its toll when, citing exhaustion, she postponed a Charleston show last August. At that point, Case had been on the road for almost two long years. Now she's back, focusing on smaller tours, like this mini one throughout May.

She's rested, ramped up, and, as evidenced by her Twitter feed, ready and willing to raise a little hell. Chief among her most recent grievances: the Esquire article that demanded to know why Tina Fey, arguably the most culturally significant funny person of the 21st century, won't accept that she's "hot." Case, whose own looks have often taken precedent in the media, calls the situation "sad."

"Tina Fey has nothing to prove to anyone," Case says. "It's an undisputed fact. Why is 'hot' even discussed? It makes me depressed, which of course will make people say 'lighten up,' which then makes me more depressed because I can only begin to imagine how hard she works and has worked. She deserves better, all people do, men and women."

Allow another F-word to be added to the arsenal of Case adjectives: Freaking awesome.

Cold War Kids

My feature on Cold War Kids is in this week's Charleston City Paper

Cold War Kids go to the deep end 

Nathan Willett gets personal with the Cold War Kids' latest disc

 

Californian indie-rockers Cold War Kids have come full circle with their upcoming third release, Mine is Yours. After their much-hyped 2006 debut Robbers & Cowards made them stars in the blogosphere, Kids took a risk with their second release, Loyalty to Loyalty. Though it wasn't entirely a sophomore slump, lead singer-songwriter Nathan Willett admits that even he was dissatisfied with the results.

"The time of making the second record was when we thought it only really matters if we were happy," Willett says. "After we made that album, we realized we wanted to be connected to fans. It's important to us that the record connects and there is an emotion that's expressed that's understandable.

"For me, just even writing for that album — it was something a bit more abstract and poetic, and I realized it wasn't as visceral to me, it wasn't as important to me as I needed it to be," he adds. "Spending so much time on it and touring for a year and half — that's what lead me to this album [Mine is Yours] and wanting it to be more personal."

For Willett and his bandmates — guitarist Jonnie Russell, bassist Matt Maust, and drummer Matt Aveiro — this meant taking time to reassess what went wrong.

"The second album, the ambiguity in it, I realized I needed to step up and have a stronger presence, connecting in an emotional way and lyrical way," Willett says.

Later in the conversation, he returns to this point, elaborating on how Kids has come to function. "Everybody feels that their style and approach and personality is essential to what the band is, and that's a really rare thing in any mainstream sense," he says. "[With Loyalty], when I realized I hadn't really lead the march, we all had to reassign our roles a little bit, so that everybody's personality would complement the song."

And in this way, Mine is Yours is the band's most truthful work yet. Thematically, it's a more emotionally complex and dense record than Robbers & Cowards, with Willett reflecting on his own little circle of life — his friends — for inspiration.

After returning home following 18 months of touring Loyalty to Loyalty, Willett just wanted to be a "normal person again." He got his wish, plus a chance to witness firsthand the normal people problems going on around him.

"I have a group of friends who went to college together, and ... I got married a couple years ago, and we have a lot of friends who are also in the same place," Willett says. "Some are doing great, but others are splitting up or have gone through crazy situations of diving into the deep end of relationships without looking around too much. It's also just the stage of life I'm in, getting past 30, and just a lot of change. I'm writing about what I'm seeing."

Watching friends struggle through relationship hurdles is a particularly common coming-of-age experience. What's unique about Willett's age group is they have absorbed the brunt of the tutelage from their parents' generation, which exemplified marital dysfunction.

"We grew up with the statistics that every other person who gets married is going to get divorced, and our parents having made those mistakes ..." Willett trails off for a moment. "All that stuff, when the rubber meets the road and you're not just sitting around and idealizing and talking about it, but actually seeing how you live. It's really hard."

At the very least, the pain has paid off artistically. Advance hype on Mine is Yours has been good, and fans eagerly awaiting the Jan. 15, 2011 drop are taking advantage of this "pre" tour that reaches the Music Farm this week.

For Willett, etching his heart on his sleeve in this fashion has meant another kind of reckoning as well.
"I feel like this record, for me personally, is the first time I've realized that this is what I want to do with my life," he says. "It's not just something like, we just started this band and put out a record and it's really fun, but now I can see myself doing this forever. I want to take this band to the extremes of what it can be."

Beautiful Girls

My article on Beautiful Girls appears in the Charleston City Paper.

Australia's Beautiful Girls try to woo America

Beauty and the Beat

by Andrea Warner

• The handsome Aussies: singer/guitarist Mat McHugh, bassist Paulie B, and drummer Bruce Braybrooke

After almost a decade of toiling and climbing the charts in their native Australia, the Beautiful Girls (actually a trio with nary an XX chromosome between them) are ready to hit the big time in America. Their strategy is reasonably sound: release the quintessential summer album and make it heavily reliant on reggae beats, trumpets, and gentle surf 'n' sandals rock.

It's a notable departure from the Girls' earlier records, most often labeled roots-rock, but singer-songwriter Mat McHugh feels the shift on the latest disc, Spooks, is organic.

"We all grew up with reggae and punk rock as part of our musical education, and it's been a part of our music since day one," McHugh says. "Being from Australia, where reggae isn't the best way to pay the bills as a musician, we've kept that side of ourselves fairly subtle until now. This time I think we realized we've reached a place where we could start doing whatever we felt like, and this record is the result."

The sound of Spooks might be summery, but the album's inspiration was anything but. McHugh secluded himself in his home for more than a year following the end of his solo tour in 2009, ultimately crafting the songs that would become Spooks, which evokes everything from the rhythmic pulse of the ocean to the opening credits of COPS. Even the song titles, like "My Mind is an Echo Chamber" and "Home/Family," offer revealing glimpses of the man as an artist.

"In my opinion, all the records we made before these have been about finding our feet," McHugh says. "This time around, I just wanted to talk about things I cared about in the way that I wanted to talk about them. I have to be inspired to write lyrics, and, in that sense, every song I write is somewhat cathartic. I'm always getting things off my chest to varying degrees, and I don't see any other way around it. The alternative is just writing down a bunch of words that have no meaning to me, and I honestly wouldn't want to waste my time."

And while certain songs, like the slickly-produced "Rockers!," do little to support the notion of catharsis, other songs ring so genuinely true they become impossible to resist. "B Some Melody" is humble and simple, a sweet ukulele number that tiptoes its way into your heart. But probe too deeply and McHugh's quick to retreat behind his well-crafted wall of words. On his own website, he acknowledges that taking responsibility for his own "fuck-ups" was the inspiration behind the album's sole ballad, "My Latest Mistake," but he's not eager to elaborate during our interview.

"I think every single human being on earth is a constant fuck-up," McHugh says. "Contrary to some people's opinion, nobody is perfect. I think the song is about realizing that fact and finding out a way to move forward. I have absolutely no intention of sharing with you my biggest mistakes. I'm a real person with real relationships in my life, and I value them too much to trivialize them. Besides, everybody has their own mistakes to deal with."

McHugh seems ready to put whatever mistakes he's made behind him and focus on the Beautiful Girls' future. He admits that the last decade's been "a long, slow climb," but stands behind the band's decision to start independent and stay that way.

"Sometimes it's difficult, and we've come up against obstacles, but I think that is to be expected when we have to compete against big labels and their large marketing budgets," McHugh says. "I think that having a deep love for music and an in-built outsider mentality have kept us motivated to take the big corporations on at their own game. We've always relied on the connection we make with people and the word of mouth that comes from it. No amount of money can buy that. We're super lucky."

This North American tour will be the first time the band's had the chance to play the exact same show they would in Australia, with five members taking the stage every night, including a keyboardist and a DJ. Though McHugh's confident that this will be the tour where his band really breaks out, he also knows that even if that doesn't happen, it will be easy to stay motivated.

"I think we all just consider ourselves musicians, and what we want to do with our lives is play and contribute music," McHugh says. "In that spirit, I believe we'll just keep doing what we do, more records and more touring. We're especially committed to spending a lot of time in America and growing our band over there. I think America and the Beautiful Girls are in the early stages of a beautiful, blossoming love affair."

Now the only question is, will America reciprocate?

Xavier Rudd

My preview of Xavier Rudd's show in Charleston appears in the Charleston City Paper.

Xavier Rudd amplifies his worldly grooves

Rudd and Izintaba: From Australia to Africa

by Andrea Warner

• provided
• Australian singer-songwriter Xavier Rudd hits the road with a new combo in support of Koonyum Sun

It's thought that there's not much love for a man wielding a didgeridoo, let alone three, but Australian singer-songwriter Xavier Rudd has built an entire career on confounding expectations.

Over the last decade, Rudd has built a loyal, if laid-back, following, capitalizing on the surf 'n' sand folk-rock phenomenon led by acts like Jack Johnson, Ben Harper, and the Beautiful Girls. The 32-year-old environmentalist has also become a popular fixture on the festival circuit, famed for his live shows where he often acts as a one-man band surrounded by a mind-boggling arrangement of instruments.

Rudd shows just how eager he is to keep revolutionizing his sound on his most recent album, Koonyum Sun. The collection is the first effort to feature his new band, Izintaba, which is essentially a South African rhythm section comprised of Tio Moloantoa and Andile Nqubezelo (formerly of the late Lucky Dube's band). Charleston actually enjoyed a preview of this collaboration last summer, and the response to the group's funk-filled jams was overwhelmingly positive.

After playing together for more than a year, the trio is tighter than ever, proudly showing off their well-reviewed Sun. The album's buoyed by unrelenting drum beats, Rudd's soaring, scratchy vocals, and some epic world rhythms. "Set Me Free" calls to mind early Peter Gabriel, while "Fresh Green Freedom" embodies the loose, carefree vibe of a sunny day, masking the song's earnest environmental message. "Love Comes and Goes" earns its Paul Simon comparisons and offers a gentle and sweet take on fleeting romance.

Possibly the best song to get the crowd revved for a night of nonstop hands-and-hips waving is the electric "Badimo," a crazy-cool amalgamation of haunting sounds and muttered musings. It's a truly original, mind-melting tune that begs to be recreated live in a sea of sweating, happy music aficionados who love to be surprised.

Parachute Musical

My preview of Parachute Musical is in this week's Charleston City Paper.

The origins of Parachute Musical's pop

Flying and drifting ... happily disjointed

by Andrea Warner

• Devoid of the typical Nashville style: the rascally Parachute Musical

Parachute Musical

From internal bust-ups to bankruptcy, most fledgling indie-rock bands experience varying degrees of struggle, but few stack the decks against themselves quite so much as the Nashville-based quartet Parachute Musical.

First, the name. Though hipster-friendly, it's already closely associated with something entirely different — New Zealand's annual mammoth Christian music festival.

Secondly, they debuted with a self-titled album in 2003. Their follow-up, Everything is Working Out Fine in Some Town, wasn't released until 2008. Five years in the indie-rock world is the equivalent of Guns 'N Roses' Chinese Democracy. Even a band's most ardent fans will find ways to fill that kind of gap, making it harder to capitalize on any kind of initial success.

Thirdly, they're just four guys making piano-fronted, orchestral-influenced, indie-rock. Josh Foster handles vocals and piano, with Tom Gilbert on guitar, Andrew Samples on bass, and Ben Jacoby on drums.

Fourth, Parachute Musical have too many influences, so there's no consistent listener experience from song to song. Will you get a lush orchestral arrangement or salsa-inspired romp-pop? It's like throwing a dart at a wheel.

In the band's favor, though, is a solid foundation of genuine talent. PM's 2008 release took more than a year to record, and featured Foster writing orchestral arrangements, recruiting and incorporating a 20-piece ensemble, and utilizing a seven-piece brass section. The album's title track is truly stunning and beautifully original (that 20-piece orchestra doesn't hurt). Throughout PM's small catalog, Foster's voice is sweet and familiar, but occasionally generic. However, his passion behind the piano charms, particularly on the moody intro to "One More Song." The soaring, cabaret-influenced "Instead" builds to a crescendo fit for a Rockette. Almost every song samples a different genre.

Parachute Musical is a young band with big dreams and plenty of easy-going, multi-purpose pop songs with cross-generational appeal — plus a satisfying smattering of incredibly brilliant songs that indicate huge ambition, pretty much guaranteeing theirs will be a show unlike any you've seen before.

Gov't Mule

My feature on Gov't Mule appears in this week's Charleston City Paper.

Gov't Mule kicks its own style of Southern rock

More than a thread

by Andrea Warner

Warren Haynes follows closely in the footsteps of his blues-rock forefathers. From his appearance — long, dirty blond hair, scraggly gray goatee, man-in-black wardrobe — to his litany of influences, including B.B. King, Eric Clapton, and Jimi Hendrix, Haynes has made a name for himself as one of the world's best guitarists.

Not bad for someone who went from being a kid in Asheville, N.C., to a starring role in the Allman Brothers Band and forming Gov't Mule, his own award-winning Southern rock band.

Thanks to the release of a new Gov't Mule album and a massive international tour schedule, Haynes won't lose any momentum in 2010. Fans spent three years anxiously awaiting the rock quartet's eighth studio album, By A Thread (Evil Teen), which was recorded at Willie Nelson's Pedernales Studio in Texas Hill, and released in late 2009. The 11-song collection immediately earned critical acclaim. The accolades were nice, but they're simply an affirmation of a career that's spanned over 30 years.

"It feels like we're moving forward and backward at the same time," Haynes said in a recent press release. "Hardcore fans tend to not want us to move too far away from where we started, but the band never wants to stay in one place for very long."

Haynes was just 20 years old when he began playing guitar with country singer-songwriter David Allan Coe. He spent four years touring the world, and played on nine of Coe's albums. An opening slot for the '70s-era rock legends, the reunited Allman Brothers Band, introduced Haynes to lead guitarist Dickey Betts. Haynes and his friend, bassist Allen Woody joined the band in 1989, coinciding with its 20th anniversary.

In 1994, Haynes and Woody formed their own project, Gov't Mule, with drummer Matt Abts, dedicated to recreating the riffy magic of power trios like Cream, ZZ Top, and The Jimi Hendrix Experience, releasing their debut a year later.

After straddling both projects for three years, Haynes and Woody left the Allman Brothers Band behind to focus on Gov't Mule full-time, but they had just three years together when Woody died of an overdose in 2000, putting Gov't on a temporary hiatus. Haynes rejoined the Allmans in 2001.

The current lineup includes multi-instrumentalist Danny Lois and bassist Jorgen Carlsson.

For the last nine years, Haynes has juggled both groups, (with touring stints on guitar and vocals in The Dead). Recently his style of music has found new relevance, and a new audience.

By A Thread has been lauded as the band's best album since Woody's death. Haynes' voice alternates between a warm, gruff purr and a sexy, snarling growl. The album's opening track, "Broke Down On The Brazos" starts out hard and dirty, grinding the blues from its guitars' strings. It's a great contrast from the slightly psychedelic and bleak "Monday Mourning Meltdown." Even on a potential misstep like "Frozen Fear," which borders on cheesy with its '80s-era soulful saxophone wail, it's impossible to deny the skillful musicianship which pulls the track back from the cheddar brink. It's the sort of trick that only a true guitar hero knows.

Indie twists on Haynes' blues-driven Southern rock, like the Kings of Leon and The Drive-By Truckers, have found major mainstream success, inspiring younger audiences to seek out its pioneers. Gov't Mule's ability to bridge a generation gap isn't surprising: they're one of the few bands to encourage audiences to bring in their video cameras and recording equipment and tape the shows. Mule makes the songs available for purchase and download from their official website. Gov't Mule's presence online, from YouTube to MySpace to Twitter, is consistent with their forward-thinking approach, without sacrificing any of the sound that Haynes has so carefully cultivated over the last three decades.

Top 10 for Charleston

Charleston City Paper asked me to name my favourite albums of the year.

ANDREA WARNER'S TOP 10

click to enlarge

The record industry may be on its last legs, but that hasn't stopped independent artists from putting out innovative and occasionally brilliant releases in 2009. Neko Case offered up new depth in her strong but tortured anthems, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs made a gutsy choice to take their music in a new direction, and the Decemberists crafted a prog-rock opera. Phoenix and Sondre Lerche soared up the college radio charts, electro-dance friendly efforts by You Say Party! We Say Die! and Telepathe made our feet move, and gems from Land of Talk, Bon Iver, and St. Vincent weaved storytelling gems around catchy hook-laden indie-pop.

Neko Case — Middle Cyclone (Anti)

Yeah Yeah Yeahs — It's Blitz! (DGC/Interscope)

The Decemberists — The Hazards of Love (Capitol)

Sondre Lerche — Heartbeat Radio (Rounder)

Land of Talk — Some Are Lakes (Saddle Creek)

Bon Iver — Bloodbank (Jagjaguwar)

Telepathe — Dance Mother (IAMSOUND)

You Say Party! We Say Die! — XXXX (Paper Bag)

St. Vincent — Actor (4AD)

Phoenix — Wolfgang, Amadeus, Phoenix (Glass Note)

Andrea Warner is a freelance writer, pop culture critic, and a fan of peaceful chaos. She occasionally uses words like "toque" and "toboggan."

Interview with St. Vincent

My interview with St. Vincent was published in the Charleston City Paper while I was on holiday.

St. Vincent embraces the excitement

Magic, charm, and the collaboration of music-making

by Andrea Warner

St. Vincent

Her alter ego may have plenty of hipster, too-cool-for-school fans, but behind the Brooklyn-based singer-songwriter St. Vincent is Annie Clark, a charmingly unassuming young woman who conducts phone interviews from her mom's mini-van.

Clark's professional pedigree as a musician is a veritable who's who of indie rock icons, from her stint in the Polyphonic Spree to her role in Sufjan Stevens' backing band. In 2005 she released her debut solo album, Marry Me, as St. Vincent, and introduced the world to her brand of quirky, layered, atmospheric indie-pop. Now, four years later, Clark's about to embark on a cross-country tour with the violin-based folk-pop musician Andrew Bird, as she plays in support of her second St. Vincent release, Actor.

"Andrew's a fantastic human being," Clark enthuses. "We ended up in Paris at the same time in April. We have some mutual friends who do a French website called the Blogotheque. We ended up performing a couple songs together in an apartment in France. It was pretty haphazard, but it was really fun. Moments like that, you're like 'Yep, livin' the dream.'"

The dream has been a long one in the making. Clark started playing guitar when she was 12 years old, and thanks to her stepfather's love of computers, she got a huge jump on the digital recording process, which explains the deftly crafted, lushly textured sonic arrangements that have become St. Vincent's trademark.

"My stepdad had a bunch of spare computer-y parts lying around, and he helped me build a makeshift studio," Clark explains. "And this is before Macs with Garage Band. You had to vaguely know something about computers, and it was on a PC using digital systems that were just starting to be user-friendly. I would spend a lot of hours multitracking my own little songs and coming up with little arrangements, and that's how I learned to make music, a very layered and kind of controlled manner. And I think that's kind of still how I'm most comfortable writing."

Clark also seems to have a keen instinct for identifying clever ideas. The first single and video clip from Actor, "Actor Out of Work", seemed to single-handedly make music videos relevant again. It was a simple premise that showed Clark auditioning actors who could cry, but it went on to become a viral sensation, receiving almost 150,000 viewings on YouTube, and was embedded on countless pop-culture websites, from New York Magazine to The Onion.

"I was really surprised how powerful it was to me," Clark laughs. "When I read the treatment for it, I was like, 'Wow, this could be really bizarre and cool. Let's do it.' So I showed up on set, and it was like, 'Okay Annie, we've got the cameras set, you go sit in that chair and watch Actor A cry.' I was just sitting there, and at first I wanted to laugh just to ease my own tension, and then by the 12th hour of watching people cry, I broke down and lost it. I was weeping."

For now, Clark's solo career as St. Vincent is her primary job, but she calls collaborating a "crucial" part of her life, and credits her previous experience in bands with helping her develop musically.

"There's nothing more exhilarating when you're 13 or 14, or fuck it, when you're 32, than playing music with other people," Clark says. "That's super-exciting, like, 'Holy cow, we're making magic.' It's like 'Whoa, we build this little plane, and we're all flying it.' It's awesome."

The Wallflowers

My piece on the Wallflowers appears in the Charleston City Paper this week.

From the stage, The Wallflowers still inspire

Headlights and Collections

by Andrea Warner

For millions of Wallflowers fans, particularly those who were teenagers in 1996, Jakob was the only Dylan who mattered. "Bob who?" girls would ask, resigning the folk icon responsible for "Blowin' in the Wind," the real face of the 1960s, to that of glorified sperm donor.

For those fans, Jakob was the first Dylan to take up permanent residency in the CD player. Every word from the lead singer's lips was a smoky promise that shone with sex appeal. As Jakob got the girls' hearts a'fluttering, the Wallflowers' breakthrough album, the platinum-selling Bringing Down the Horse, etched itself into their brains far more permanently than the periodic table or the Ten Commandments. The album sold over six million copies worldwide.

But it wasn't just the hormone-hampered who worshipped the Wallflowers: older fans found comfort in Bob's progeny too, flocking to the young singer-songwriter like he was the second coming of folk-rock angst. Despite Jakob's deliberate avoidance of any political underpinnings on Horse, his father's fans sought him out, finding a guy with a gift for melody, a more tuneful, pop-rock version of their rebel-yell idol.

But, for a short guy, Bob Dylan casts a long shadow, and for Jakob, his father's legacy has been inescapable. Most of Jakob's first interviews for The Wallflowers were based solely on the importance of his last name. For the most part, Jakob's taken wide circles around any such questions, attempting to subtract his father from the equation.

Thirteen years after Horse's huge success, he's still not talking, refusing to do any press for this reunion tour. What time has shown The Wallflowers, in terms of major label success, is that sometimes one really good album breaks a career even while it's making you a star. Everyone can still hum The Wallflowers' hit single "One Headlight" but almost no one can tell you the name of the band's last album. (It was 2005's Rebel, Sweetheart, for the curious out there.)

Following Horse, The Wallflowers experienced numerous stops and starts, ultimately releasing three more albums, all of which underperformed compared to the hit albatross around their neck. Ultimately the band left Interscope in 2005, and Jakob embarked on solo efforts, spending last summer on the road in support of his album, Seeing Things.

And then suddenly this year, the band regrouped, setting out on a cross-country summer tour in support of their new album Collected: 1995-2006. The track list boasts the five best songs from Horse, including the ode to New York romances gone awry, "Sixth Avenue Heartache" (with Adam Duritz from Counting Crows), and the classic slow burn of "Invisible City," which laments, "feeling pretty is so hard." Listening to Collected's other songs only goes to show just how early The Wallflowers peaked. The two previously unreleased songs, "God Says Nothing Back" and "Eat You Sleeping," are tepid soft rock exercises.

Despite the hit-and-miss collection, The Wallflowers' reputation for a genuinely inspired live show lives on. Catching the slow curl of the guitar wrapping its way around the driving drum beat on the opening bars from "One Headlight" is just enough to melt many self-respecting women back into teenage girls. And, when Jakob takes the stage and lets loose his throaty purr, prepare yourself to start asking, "Bob who?" all over again.

Maxwell preview

For reasons unbeknownst, even to me, I decided to knock Usher down a few pegs whilst writing this Maxwell preview for Charleston City Paper.

Staff Pick: Maxwell

By Andrea Warner

Just ’cause he’s credited with helping launch the neo-soul R&B stylings that brought the falsetto back doesn’t mean Maxwell is all that comfortable in the spotlight. In fact, the Brooklyn-born 36-year-old’s been off the grid since the release of his third album Now in 2001, seemingly enjoying a self-imposed exile as mysterious as the man himself.

Following Now, Maxwell was poised to lead easy-listeners to smooth-groove bliss. His sexy songs likely paved the way for plenty of late-night booty calls, and yet his earnest odes to monogamy and treating a woman right kept Maxwell teenage girl-friendly and mom-approved, much like a certain singer named Usher, barely a blip on radio’s radar back then, who was chasing Maxwell’s register all over town. Back then, Usher was just a kid who hoped puberty wouldn’t touch his high notes, but after Maxwell vanished from the public eye, he nabbed the neo-soul crown.

But, on the cusp of a new decade, where everything 1996 is apparently new again, Maxwell’s back, with the first of a three-part trilogy. Black Summers’ Night pops with vocal tricks of all types: whispers, growls, upper octave ascensions into space. To Maxwell’s credit, his MO hasn’t changed: when he pens a song called “Pretty Wings,” it’s a sure bet that the song will be genuinely pretty, and the ridiculously limber falsettos will literally call to mind a bird flying up into the sky.

And it’s obvious that the man’s been missed: Black Summers’ Night debuted at number one on the Billboard Top 200, and “Pretty Wings” has already received over four million plays on his MySpace page. Usher doesn’t even need to step aside. He’s already been dethroned. —Andrea Warner

Mat Kearney

My interview with Mat Kearney is out in the Charleston City Paper this week.

Mat Kearney is a West Coast guy on a Nashville adventure

A new sound in the city

by Andrea Warner

Mat Kearney is the kind of golden boy who makes everything seem easy. Scholarship-worthy athlete? Yep. Gifted photographer and writer? Apparently. An accidental record deal after deciding to ride along for a summer road trip to Nashville? Of course. Even his sound is a fusion of fortunes that probably shouldn't work well together, all about love and loss, the hopeless and the inspiration-drenched, sung in a voice that sounds almost exactly like Coldplay's Chris Martin. He's been so touched by an angel that eventually T-shirts will be mass-produced to read, "It's a Kearney kind of world."

Not that the 30-year-old contemporary Christian musician doesn't work his ass off for what he's got. Between his best-selling 2006 debut Nothing Left to Lose and the new follow-up, City of Black and White, Kearney estimates he played 500 shows in three years, a first-hand education that couldn't help but impact his songwriting.

"The first album was just a little bedroom project that took off," Kearney says. "Nothing Left to Lose was young idealism, and it was kinda me stepping out and saying 'Let's see what happens.' City of Black and White is like, I've landed in this community, there's heartbreak, there's some bad things that happened, but just as many rich things, too."

Kearney's debut was an earnest mash-up of influences: country, folk, pop, rock, soul, gospel, and hip-hop, peppered with spoken-word/hip-hop segments throughout.

"I found this whole voice, which lead to me grabbing my roommate's guitar, and it was just this glove that fit — songwriting," Kearney says. "I was pretty influenced by poetry and the spoken-word element, and, honestly, it was funny, because the hip-hop could be kind of considered a novelty on one level, but it caused me to stand out from the crowd."

Particularly the crowd in Nashville. He didn't expect anything to happen when he tagged along on his buddy's road trip for the summer, but when people started responding to his sound, he kissed college goodbye and made Nashville his home base. A short time later he got his big break.

"I was playing at this little tiny college show," Kearney recalls. "This record guy who'd signed John Mayer showed up, and he was like, 'Hey, I really wanna work with you,' and I looked at the label and was like, 'Okay, let's do it.' It was funny ... when he offered me a deal, all these other big-time labels came along and started throwing money and power at me, but, I don't know, I just wanted to work with him, and I've worked with him ever since."

Nothing Left to Lose became a huge success and a go-to resource for television series like Grey's Anatomy and Scrubs, both of which have a reputation for "discovering" cool indie pieces of longing or lyricism to underscore their characters' highs and lows. Well over 15 television shows have used Kearney's music over the last three years.

"It's odd and amazing and different," Kearney laughs. "There's moments where you're like, 'Really? The song was used for that?' I've been very generous with that. For some reason I don't think my song being on a show can do any damage to my song, you know? My song's my song. People use my songs in all kinds of situations, some that I think are cheesy and some that are amazing, but that's how my songs enter people's lives."

Kearney's songs have certainly brought plenty of big names to his everyday life, and he admits that sometimes he still pinches himself because he can't believe it's real.

"Kenny Chesney, of all people, called me to come down and play a song with him and the Wailers," Kearney laughs. "It was such an eclectic gathering: The Wailers, of like, Bob Marley and the Wailers, Chesney, and me playing honky-tonk in downtown Nashville. Super odd, but I loved it. There are just people everywhere. I met Patty Griffin at a clothing store a couple months ago. I walked out of a Bob Dylan show with Emmylou Harris. Keith Urban came in looking for his wife [Nicole Kidman] at the studio. There's this awesome thing happening in Nashville right now. Just a really cool rock scene, but not necessarily the typical L.A. thing. A little more grounded in tradition."

Nashville, his adopted home, seems the true recipient of the bittersweet love letter that is City of Black and White.

"It was hard for me in Nashville at first," Kearney says. "Being a West Coast kid, I thought it was an odd place, but I fell in love with it. It's a town that's humble, it values humility, it doesn't put up with fluff. It's like the song is king in the music world, so people are always chasing after great songs, and you feel like you're walking around in the shadows of these giants, you know?"

Home sweet home, Mr. Kearney.

Americans In France

My story about the post-punk band Americans in France is in the Charleston City Paper this week.

Americans in France twist a funny sound

Not So Silly?

by Andrea Warner

• Are they American? Are they actually jumping around in France?
  

myspace.com/americansinfrance

They're slim and scrappy ... the type of young adults who thrive on a steady diet of sarcasm, silliness, and at least one photo-op in a sex swing — that is, they're perfect candidates to start a post-punk noise band with a completely nonsensical name like Americans in France.

Former Floridian Josh Lajoie, AIF's singer/guitarist, possesses the nasal twangy voice of his punk forefathers, and he's working on his meaty snarl. He shares vocal duties with drummer Casey Cook, who happens to be a renowned artist. Kent Howard makes up the third part of the AIF triangle, providing pounding bass lines and terrifically funny one-liners.

The trio riff off each other naturally, and their camaraderie comes through even during an interview via e-mail. They're eagerly anticipating the release of their newest album, Pretzelvania. Indie bloggers and established sites like Pitchfork.com have been kind to several tracks, and AIF still can't get over the fact that Pretzelvania boasts the fingerprints of Grammy award-winning producer/engineer Brian Paulson.

"It was surprising to have the opportunity to work with Paulson, and that he came to our house to do it!" Lajoie says. "Essentially he was cooped up with us. We felt very comfortable." Lajoie and Cook's home served as the de-facto studio, but while its idyllic location in Chatham, N.C., fostered plenty of creative spirit, it also meant that any time of day one could hear AIF's blistering punk shattering the countryside.

"We live on a pond which is basically a giant amphitheater of sound," Cook says. "While we were recording, a lady that lives across the pond would turn her stereo on full blast to illustrate that point every once in a while."

"Her taste in music was surprisingly good," Lajoie adds.

They're equally glib about their unusual name and their songwriting practices.

On their unique moniker, Cook says she imagines spy-type ex-pats living in France, drinking absinthe, smoking fancy cigarettes, and eating baguettes, whereas Lajoie envisions fat tourists in NASCAR T-shirts with bad attitudes. He does admit that fellow Floridian Jim Morrison's defection to France may have also inspired the band's name.

When it comes to crafting their songs, which sometimes come off as impassioned mini-manifestos and sly cultural criticisms ("Mr. Fister" and "Nosejob" come to mind), Lajoie gleefully admits to a controlled chaos. "In the beginning, we'd write songs while we were walking down the street together," he says. "I steal a lot of my lyrics from things people have said to me or from weird movies."

"I'll have words and a melody and bring it to the band knowing it will be filtered through everyone's brain and come out sounding like our song," Cook says.

"We call that not being afraid to kill the baby," Howard adds.

This quick quip is just another example that for all the fury Americans in France pack into their songs, their shared sense of humor is steadily humming below the surface. Or, in certain cases, part of a photo gallery on their MySpace page, which lead this nosy writer to come across a picture of a man fully clothed, joyfully leaning backwards, spread eagle, in a sex swing.

"Yeah, that's me," Lajoie confesses. "Busted. What can I say? Florida chews you up and spits you out."

John Tesh

My brief piece on John Tesh appears in this week's Charleston City Paper.

Who’s got three gold records, six Emmys, and a syndicated radio show with eight million listeners? The same man who’s got an Associated Press award for investigative journalism, spent time announcing the Tour de France and Olympics, and has appeared on Star Trek: The Next Generation: John Tesh.

John freakin’ Tesh? The tall, blond grandfather of celebrity obsession who co-anchored Entertainment Tonight throughout the ’80s, penning its ubiquitous electronic orchestra-infused theme? The composer and keyboardist who got his start moonlighting in a handful of Yanni shows? Yep, that’s Tesh.

His brand of grandiose arrangements alternately burst with bombast and then retreat into hushed whispers — a style that may not find favour with critics, but keeps legions of fans clamoring for Tesh’s tour bus to roll through their town. With more than 20 album sales to his credit, spanning everything from New Age to gospel, and a regular perch atop the Christian and Billboard instrumental charts, Tesh might not be cool, but he’s got success on his side.

—Andrea Warner

Lily Tomlin, take two!

My second interview with Lily Tomlin is online at the Charleston City Paper.

Lily Tomlin Performs in North Charleston for the first time

She might be nearly 70, but no one who's seen Lily Tomlin perform her latest stand-up routine would know it. She bounces with the enthusiasm of a high school cheerleader, and her mind never stops moving, the jokes flying faster and packing more heat than bullets at a shooting range. Her laughter is rich and familiar, and comes frequently throughout the 35 minutes we spent talking to her before she embarks on a cross-country tour.

City Paper: Are there certain characters you've known who've stayed really close to your heart over the years?

Lily Tomlin: God, yes, most everything. Characters are like people to me. They're people who have these idiosyncrasies and I know them. They're like relatives.

CP: You've worked with a lot of really funny people. Are there people you haven't had a chance to work with yet that you hope to in the future?

LT: Almost anybody who's good I want to work with. I would like to work with any number of people who it wouldn't seem like I would fit in to their work, like Martin Scorsese or someone like that. I'd want to do something that nobody would expect me to do, but after a while you sort of get pigeon-holed. Like, it was a very big deal to go from Laugh In to a movie like Nashville with Bob Altman. Most would never even have seen that possibility.

CP: I was going to ask you about working with him. What was that relationship like?

LT: A Prairie Home Companion was just a great shoot, and Bob was getting chemotherapy every day and he was still Bob.

He was fantastic. And people would say, "What's it been like working with Bob? Is he different now?" And I'd say the only difference is he doesn't ride the crane like he used to. Bob was planning his next movie days before he died. Meryl [Streep] was going to be in it and I was going to be in it. It was called Hands on a Hard Body, where people compete to win a truck by keeping their hands on it.

CP: What made you decide to get out on the road now and do stand-up?

LT: I never stopped doing stand-up, one-nighters, or two-nighters. From the time I got on Laugh In, I had an act, and it was the only thing that kept me off The Match Game [a popular '70s game show that featured a regular lineup of comedians/actors]. If you had an act, you didn't have to take a regular job on one of these shows — not that there's anything wrong with that, but it sort of slots you in there. And because I had an act, I could go out and earn a living. I didn't have to take a job on a show where you had to be on every day. I always had my act and did 40-50 dates a year. I just always did that, and I'd work that around whatever else I was doing.

CP: A lot of people were really excited about Obama getting elected. Are you still feeling that sensation of hope and change?

LT: We're praying for it. I mean, even the whole Rick Warren thing, I can sort of buy Obama's justification about different points of view and so on. When I was on Laugh In, way back in the beginning, we were so political about the Vietnam War, those of us against the war. John Wayne was on the show and I wouldn't even be photographed with him. And then later Martha Mitchell came on, who was married to John Mitchell, and she was more of a victim of that administration, and I sort of snubbed her too. Later I read in her autobiography that she was so hurt by the way I treated her, and in retrospect as a mature person I regret those times. I wish I'd been more outgoing with them and found out what they think and why they think it.

CP: What changes are you hoping to see for America and the world in 2009?

LT: I'm hoping we can make some sort of connection with the rest of the world. How can you repair what the Bush administration has done? I just don't know. I'm hoping Obama's going to re-implement the Clean Air Act, and all kinds of things like that. They've sold off our national parks! They've done everything. There's no end to what Bush has done. And it's harder to undo than to do. I was so grateful just to have someone like Obama elected, because you hope that's a message to the rest of the world.

North Mississippi Allstars

My preview of the North Mississippi Allstars appears in this week's Charleston City Paper.

North Mississippi Allstars
By Andrea Warner

North Mississippi Allstars have spent the last 12 years churning out songs that prove boys also wanna have fun. Their newest release, Hernando, named after their hometown, is no exception. The group’s brand of bluesy Americana guarantees a rambling, raucous good time, albeit one that goes well beyond Cyndi Lauper sneaking in after curfew. The album is solidly invested in a countrified, blues-infused, rock ’n’ roll lifestyle involving women, the rawhide-tough elements of heartbreak, and exorcising their demons with one searing guitar riff after another. Comprised of brothers Luther (vocals, guitar) and Cody Dickinson (drums, keyboards) and Chris Chew (electric bass), the Allstars released their first album in 2000, unleashing a sound that equally confounded and delighted critics. The debut, Shake Hands with Shorty, was rooted in blues, but borrowed a little bit from country, boogie, and rock. Eventually the group even incorporated elements of hip-hop, creating a fully contemporary sound at once familiar and original. The real pleasure, as any NMA fan will likely say, is the long, luxurious onstage jams that have perpetuated the band’s excellent reputation for live shows. With Luther moonlighting as the Black Crowe’s rhythm guitarist, and Chris and Cody working on other side projects, who knows how many more times NMA’s brand of feel-good “world boogie” will blow through town? Catch them while you can.