Bo Diddley died. I can't begin to do justice to that man in a stupid myspace blog, so don't look for a tribute here. Read this instead.
Joe Bageant's book "Deer Hunting With Jesus" comes out in paperback this month. It is the best book about the current state of America I've read in recent memory, and I can't recommend it highly enough. This book reminds me of Thomas Frank's excellent "What's the Matter With Kansas," (tho' addressing folks a bit further down the economic ladder) crossed with Jim Goad's "The Redneck Manifesto," and while that's a fair-enough sound bite description as far as it goes, it doesn't really do justice to what Joe has pulled off here.
While it makes a welcome addition to the pile of books documenting the folly of the Bush years, "Deer Hunting With Jesus" goes far beyond being one of the many "disgruntled lefty" tomes cranked out during the Bush administration to something far more important. It's an entirely different animal altogether, indicting Republicans, Democrats, and the American people themselves, red and blue alike. The final chapter, "The American Hologram," builds to a climax of writing so amazing, brave, and unexpectedly touching, that it turns what started as a darkly humorous political editorial into an emotionally wrenching and genuinely moving picture of America in twilight. If you want to understand modern America, especially rural, "fly-over country" America, you must read this book. But keep in mind that the truth ain't pretty.
Perhaps my point is best illustrated with an anecdote...
A few months ago my fellow Voodoo Rhythm recording artist C.W. Stoneking came to town, playing a show on his U.S. tour. My other fellow Voodoo Rhythm recording artist, Konrad, opened up for him. I had just started moving my arm around at the time, so unfortunately I was there merely as spectator rather than participant.
C.W. is from Australia, and we got to talking about the state of the U.S. of A. Now, even though I come from a rural, working-class background, thanks to rock n' roll I have been fortunate enough to travel a lot more than the average Joe from the same circumstances would have. So it happens that I was lucky enough to have made it down to Australia for a tour. So I had enough of a frame of reference to have an intelligent conversation regarding the differences between our two countries.
C.W. had been to the U.S. before, so it wasn't a complete surprise, but he commented on how shacks seemed to be a popular means of housing (even in the face of the biggest housing bubble in recorded history). He also couldn't help but notice Austin's teeming homeless population. C.W., also being a musician, has done his share of travel. More than the average American citizen. A few minutes of conversation along these lines and we come to the inevitable conclusion: The United States is a corporate-owned banana republic. America is a third world country.
The point is driven home even more as Konrad and I proceed to pick C.W.'s brain about being a musician in Australia. He supports himself solely from music, having sold 15,000 copies of his self-released debut album down under. There is actually a well-funded public broadcasting system in Australia (when I was there, I played on Melbourne's excellent PBS Radio) and independent artists can be heard, unlike our current Clear-Channel controlled airwaves. Conrad and I of course both work day jobs, and probably haven't sold that many records combined. C.W. also spent a portion of time on the dole, which is pretty standard operating procedure for artists and musicians in Australia. The dole in Australia even pays enough to live comfortably, rather than in a section-8 housing hellhole like in the states. He also doesn't have to worry about health insurance, thanks to Australia's universal health care program. It isn't a perfect system, but sickness is not a constant source of anxiety or an immediate ticket to bankruptcy.
Konrad hasn't been to Australia but he's toured extensively overseas, so none of this was exactly a surprise to him, either. But as the conversation continued, we both couldn't help but get a bit pissed. Obama's recent "bitterness" comment doesn't even begin to cover it. And as a final insult, when we were thoroughly dissatisfied with our lot in the U.S., we find out that C.W. had brought his wife, two kids, and nanny with him on the tour(!). Now, Konrad's wife at this time was several months pregnant. The thought of a relatively unknown musician even having a nanny, much less being able to bring one on a month-long tour along with the wife and kids, was simply beyond our comprehension.
We would've stayed to hang out and shoot the shit longer with C.W., but this gig being on a Tuesday night, we both had our day jobs to get to. Konrad, with pregnant wife in tow, had to drive two hours home to be up for his teaching gig at 6 a.m. (and the show ended at 2!) Me, I at least I didn't have to drive far to make it to my gig at another floundering public educational institution the next morning. (For some reason, it seems few of us roots music musician types end up being investment bankers.)
Now, I just offer up this little slice-of-life to illustrate the difference between the standard of living of the average schmo in another country compared to his counterparts in this, the "greatest country in the world," as we are constantly reminded by our media. Having the chance to tour Europe when in my first band was an eye-opening experience for a kid from a small town who had never left the country before. Yeah, rock n' roll may have ruined my life, but as reward I've been more places than many Americans far wealthier than I. Also, I've been lucky in that the punk rock sleeping-on-people's-floors provided me a much better view of how people in another country actually live than I would have gotten staying at hotels and expensive resorts. And I have to say, the disparity between the standard of living of the average American citizen and the average European or Australian is vast and gaping.
Most Europeans don't understand this, as they are just as brainwashed by our media as Americans are, though they are loathe to admit it. While most lists of GDP or other wealth measurements rank the U.S. as first in the world, only an idiot would think that the average American citizen had a better standard of living than the average citizen of, say, Switzerland. An idiot, or a small-town Republican who had never even been to Switzerland (or even had a vacation). And most typical "big city liberals" in the U.S. (of which I am now one, thank god) have no understanding of this fact, either. After all, either of these types are more concerned with poverty in the third world than they are with those boorish, Republican-supporting white folks in the middle of the country.
Me, having grown up in a poor rural area in the U.S., and also having traveled a fair bit, I think I can say that the foreign country that reminded me the most of where I grew up was...Serbia! And hell, they had a war there. We had NAFTA.
Of course, even most so-called progressives in the states wouldn't believe that if they were told, which they wouldn't be because they avoid all contact with those troublesome red state dwellers. And of course, a European visiting the states probably never makes it anywhere near Niangua, Missouri, either, to compare it with a war-touched east European village. And a Republican-voting, gun-toting, racist, bible-thumping redneck has never been overseas to know how bad he has it in comparison. Hell, 'Yurp is too damn faggy anyhow, they'd say. So it's easy for all to ignore the fact that our nation's poor and white rural citizens are suffering.
Well, at least one person has noticed, and he wrote a book about it, and I can't recommend it highly enough. As someone who grew up in a rural area, with poor working class people, who went on to get the hell out as soon as possible and move to the big city and turn into a damn socialist, well, dammit – I sometimes wondered if I was the only one. Well, Joe Bageant has had the same experience and has written about it much more eloquently than I could have. While it is easy to demonize these people for their bible thumping, racism, and stupidity, I can also recognize that they are frequently caring and decent human beings as well. Joe does an excellent job of making the redneck mindset understandable, while at the same time calling the redneck on his bullshit, bigotry, and cowardice. (Yes, cowardice. For all the tough Toby Keith-style posturing, Bagaent correctly captures the subservient, walk-all-over-me attitude that is really how poor whites now react to the world.) I frequently found myself veering between extremes of affection and disgust for his subjects, which isn't that different from the feelings I had growing up amongst them.
Well, anyway...hell...If you managed to make it all the way to the end of this entry, then dammit, you better read "Deer Hunting With Jesus." If you read no other book this year (like most of the subjects of this book, alas), make it this one. I particularly recommend this to all my European friends to whom I couldn't adequately explain the current fucked-up-ness of my country.
Oh, and Joe has an excellent blog, too. Check it out.
January - break an arm (right before my show with Posessed by Paul James, dammit) February - don't move arm for a month March - painful physical therapy
By the middle of April I could actually lift my arm above my head, and I could finally play guitar again as well. I've spent the last month trying to get my playing back in shape. I guess I should claim that I've been busting hump with the one man band setup, but actually I've been working on stuff that I don't even know that I'll be able to do as a one man band.
Before I broke the arm I had been working on my own variation of Merle Travis style fingerpicking, along with some Rev. Gary Davis and some other players. Travis and Davis used a thumbpick and fingerpick on the index finger, but I hate thumbpicks and fingerpicks, so I started trying to learn the stuff using a regular flatpick and my fingers. I prefer the flatpick to fingerpicks, I find them awkward and cumbersome, and I hate not being able to feel the strings. Plus, there are things you can do rhythm-wise with a flatpick that are harder with a thumbpick. I've stolen from Danny Gatton and other chicken-pickers before, so I already played in that style and I didn't want to reinvent the wheel in order to learn this more intricate alternating bass stuff.
I hold the pick with my thumb and first finger, and pick the strings with the remaining fingers. I end up using primarily the third finger, only using the middle and pinky occassionally. This feels the most natural to me, although it makes certain moves that you can do easily with thumb and index finger a la Merle Travis a bit more awkward with my method. Well, thems the breaks.
To learn how to do this stuff first I actually tried to take lessons from a real live person. I did have a couple lessons to get the basics down but I didn't think they were helping that much. I've always been an autodidact, especially where music is concerned.
So I've been picking up a lot of books and dvds and whatnot. The dvds especially can run into a lot of dough - 40 bucks a piece sometimes, for what may turn out to be a total dud - so I've been interlibrary-loaning them to try out some different titles. Unfortunately, they vary pretty widely in quality. For most of 'em, I'm glad I didn't pay because they only have a couple of parts that I felt I learned anything from.
Anyway (I warned in the title of this entry that this was for guitar nerds) here's my list of the best and/or worst guitar fingerpicking learning devices I've come across so far:
First off would be Happy Traum's Easy Steps to Guitar Fingerpicking. The dude with the gayest name ever is actually quite an able guitar teacher. The subtitle is "Demystifying Alternate Thumb Style" and that pretty much says it all. A lot of these videos are pretty worthless but this one was actually quite helpful. I'd already been learning all the patterns for awhile, but if you only sit and practice patterns you get really good at playing the same pattern over and over again. Traum, however, focuses on keeping the alternating bass pattern going while picking out different melodies, and breaking out beyond just playing the same pattern. He's also good at slowing it down enough for you to be able to figure out what he's doing easily. A pet peeve with these books and videos is that they tend to use some really crappy songs as examples, but Traum to his credit picks some interesting numbers like tunes by Jimmie Rodgers and Mississippi John Hurt. The first song is "Skip to My Lou" and I was gritting my teeth with that, but that's just a simple example and after that he leaves the nursery-rhyme stuff behind. I think you should probably have some experience with the different fingerpicking patterns before you tackle this one, but it's probably the best that I've seen so far.
For a less sucessful attempt at video guitar instruction, try Woody Mann's The Art Of Acoustic Blues Guitar: Ragtime & Gospel. This book/video combo is all Rev. Gary Davis stuff, and it's not terrible, but Davis' style is a little too indiosyncratic to be able to boil down to simple elements and pick apart in an hour of screen time. This does have a nice version of "O Glory" which is one of my favorite Davis compositions, but overall not as successful an attempt at video guitar instruction as Happy Traum. Here is Davis' version, which is enough to shame you into not mucking it up with your own sub-par attempt:
Now for the bad: Mark Hanson's The Art of Contemporary Travis Picking. This book has exactly TWO items worth anything: a nice arrangement of Elizabeth Cotton's "Freight Train" and an original Hanson compostion "Over and Out Rag". Other than that, you get a lot of dry examples of fingerpicking patterns (outside in, inside out, pinch, etc. etc.). And worst of all, you get lots of "songs" illustrating these patterns with what sounds like the author's hippy girlfriend single breathy Joan Baez-style vocals over them. It's as painful as it sounds. Avoid this one like the plague. Unfortunately I bought this with perfectly good money before I discovered the magic of interlibrary loan.
Then there's this monster: Merle Travis Guitar Style. I won't even pretend that I'm far enough along to figure this stuff out yet, much less to play it while playing drums and singing at the same time. Also, Travis' style isn't raw or dirty by any stretch of the imagination, so I don't know that it will ever be applicable to a one man band show. But, it's an interesting challenge. Too much of a challenge, actually. I want a challenge I can actually DO. Someday, baby. Someday.
Aside from the fingerpicking, how about the harmonica playing? Well, I gotta say, I've been letting my harp skills atrophy while I worked on my Travis picking. I did try to watch a couple of harmonica instructional videos, too, but I realized that: 1.) when it comes to harmonica I prefer less technical players, and 2.) harmonica is not an instrument that lends itself to visual instruction. With guitar, at least you can tell where your fingers are supposed to go. With harmonica, you can't see anything anyway...
Except the incredibly tacky fashion choices of the person showing you the "licks". I don't know what it is about harmonica nerds, but they need to have their momma's pick out some better shirts for them. Would you take harmonica advice, or fashion advice, from these men? Yeesh.
So, anyway, I gotta say that I've enjoyed the last month of sitting around with the acoustic and learning some new tricks. I haven't really devoted much time strictly to technique in quite awhile. I don't know if I'll ever be able to actually incorporate any of this stuff into a one man band performance, but for sitting around on the couch and picking away it's quite enjoyable.
Your muscles get sore after awhile, so to avoid tendenitis I've found the best thing to do is play for an hour, then take a break and read a book or something for an hour, then back to the guitar. If you've got a good book, some beer, and an afternoon to kill I can't really think of anything more enjoyable. I find I can kill a whole day working at the same part over and over again, alternating with some good reading material. It's rewarding, challenging, and frankly is making dragging out all the one man band equipment look like a collosal pain in the ass...
The lost classic "Blast of Silence" is now available from the always excellent Criterion Collection. It even has an hour-long bonus feature with director/star Allen Baron touring NYC and re-visiting the locations used for filming. You may recognize certain quotes from the opening of the movie, where the hit man is stepping off the train, as being sampled on a certain song by a certain one man band.
The version I had was a grainy millionth generation VHS copy, from Mariconda by way of Tim Warren, so it's nice to see this in a beautiful transfer with pristine picture and sound. This is one of those movies that's so rare I never even saw it mentioned or listed anywhere, so kudos to Criterion for digging it up and doing an excellent job on the re-ish. In addition to being rare it also an excellent piece of cinema. Dark, gritty, and violent, with a genius voice-over narration. In the 2nd person, Baby Boy Frankie Bono, so it sounds like the narrator is talking to you. Genius.
Broke my arm. Fell off a cliff. I've never broken a bone before, but then I've never fallen about six feet and landed with all my weight on solid granite before, either. I've got health insurance, and a job that let's me keep showing up and fumbling around with one hand even though I'm largely worthless. It's an annoyance, but could be a lot worse.
I thought I was getting off easy as I didn't have to get a cast, but it's due to the location of the break and not because it's "not that bad" or something like that. Broke is broke. It wasn't sticking through my skin but I got a nice bruise from armpit to wrist that's turned all the colors of the rainbow. Three weeks later and there's still a huge bruise. Not having a cast actually means that there are more chances for pain, as I have more chances to move it around unintentionally. If you like wincing and sudden intakes of breath, we should hang out.
I'm left handed, so of course it was my left arm. I was told it would require at least a month of wearing a sling and not moving my arm. This has forced me to slow down my usual action-packed lifestyle. Needless to say, no clambering around on any rocks. Also, no guitar playing, which is a major annoyance as I was coming along pretty well on my finger picking (Rev. Gary Davis and Travis-style) before this. Now I fear I will have lost all my finger-knowledge by the time I can play again. Obviously, no one man band shows any time soon. My choices of activity are limited to a.) moving slowly and carefully b.) maneuvering gingerly c.) treading cautiously, or d.) sitting on my ass.
I haven't really been listening to much music lately, since I can't play anything myself. I've been reading a lot, however. "What have you been reading?" you may ask...well...
Shout Sister Shout!: The Untold Story of Rock n' Roll Trailblazer Sister Rosetta Tharpe by Gayle F. Ward
As a document of the life of an undeservedly obscure figure in the annals of American music, this music bio is a welcome addition to the bookshelf. Rosetta was a major bad-ass on the guitar, an excellent vocalist, and today is largely forgotten. Ward is a competent writer, and gets the facts across in a pleasant enough manner. Tharpe's life wasn't particularly dramatic, and while certainly no "Hellfire" this music bio is well researched and written and I've got no major complaints. Ward really steps up to the plate when addressing the notion of "guitar-as-phallus" as an overused bad-music-writer trope when discussing guitar soloists. As a guitar-wielding female gospel singer Rosetta hardly fits into the widespread view of the guitar solo as display of male sexual prowess. I personally can't stand the Jimmy Page/Stevie Ray Vaughan/Eddie Van Halen school of masturbatory guitar-wankery. Would you say that players like Gary Davis or Don Rich aren't "masculine" because their playing involves far more subtle musicianship? Hardly. So reading the following was a welcome reprieve from the usual bad music-writing cliches:
"When [Rosetta] made the guitar talk, she gave her audience an opportunity to feel excitement, pleasure, power, and emotional release in the sounds she generated...Well before the guitar gods of more recent decades made a fetish of the guitar solo as an orgiastic expression of male sexual libido, Rosetta perfected something both more subtle and more radical: the art of the guitar as an instrument of ineffable speech, of rapture beyond words."
But, hey, don't take my word for it. Watch and learn:
Also enjoyable are the frequent period details and local color, such as the following description of the impact of the b-side of Rosetta's single with the Lucky Millinder orchestra, "Big Fat Mama":
"So popular was "Big Fat Mama" that, a month after the song's release, the Apollo played host to a "Big Fat Mama" week, during which women weighing over 250 pounds were admitted for free. At the end of the week, a fifty-dollar prize was awarded to the "most versatile 'mama.'"
And in the end, of course, Rosetta died less well-known than she deserved and was buried in an unmarked grave. Ward believes that this is due largely to Rosetta's status a black woman in a country where both her race and gender made her a second-class citizen. This is undoubtedly true, but I think it's not just a racist/sexist thing. Americans don't know or appreciate their own history or indigenous music. The music of poor white folks has been considered just as unworthy of interest as that of African-Americans in this country, while the academic world continues to focus exclusively on the work of Europeans who died centuries ago. The list of great American musicians who are largely forgotten is nearly limitless, and much like the basis of many of the problems in this country has less to do with identity politics than with class and economics.
In case you still haven't noticed, we are currently living through the popping of the single largest asset-market bubble in world history. I'm speaking, of course, about housing and real estate. It's finally hitting the mainstream media, but I've been following this story for years now. The MSM is still talking about "sub-prime loans" but this thing is much bigger than what the usual media outlets would lead you to believe. It still remains to be seen if this is going to result only in a recession, or a cataclysm that will bring down our entire financial and monetary system. Seriously. Interesting times.
I first became aware of this just from casual observation a couple of years ago. Housing prices in my neighborhood seemed to be climbing high rather quickly, while rents hadn't changed that much. I wondered what the hell was going on. Not like I'm in the market for a house, it was simply intellectual curiosity. How could all these tiny houses in Austin that were worth maybe 150k a few short years ago suddenly be selling for half a million dollars? Or more? It only got worse as the months went by. Inexpensive apartments were closed, to be reborn as "luxury condos." Hell, suddenly newly-built luxury condos were going up right down the street from Beerland. The same Beerland right down the street from the giant homeless shelter. When Randall and Donya moved in it was a no-man's land of crackheads and bums. Which it still was, but now with luxury condos. Clearly, something was going on.
So, I started following the real estate market. I got turned onto some housing-bear blogs like itulip, Another Fucked Borrower and The Housing Bubble Blog, and I've been watching this thing unfold. It's been fascinating. California peaked in 2006, but Austin was a little slower and seemed to hit the top about the summer of '07. That would be when they tore down the house next door to my cozy little apartment complex to build a gi-normous stucco duplex monstrosity that currently sits unsold for around 650k. Whether anybody actually buys this crapshack remains to be seen, but it certainly drove home the insanity of the real estate biz in a most dramatic fashion, as I awoke every morning during the summer to loud Tejano jams and hammering. At 650k, how much would the potential buyer have to charge in rent just to cover the mortgage and property tax on this butt-ugly example of suburban blight, much less realize a profit from his/her "investment"? Meanwhile, my rent had gone up all of twenty bucks in 5 years. You could still rent a normal-sized house in the neighborhood for maybe a grand or so. Hell, down the street, two more 500k condos had gone up earlier in the year, right next door to some ghetto-assed apartments where tenants lift free weights in the parking lot. Insanity!
At least I knew that real estate values did not, in fact, always go up. My parents bought the farm I grew up on at the height of early 80's farm prices, which then sunk dramatically. I remember them complaining that "this place will never be worth what we paid for it." Of course, they did finally sell it for about that much when they retired, a mere 20 years later. I've actually known quite a few people who've bought houses in the last few years. I generally held my tongue as they spouted the "real estate only goes up" and "buy now or be priced out forever" mantras. If housing prices had doubled in a couple years, did they really think they would go on increasing year after year, forever? Who would be left to afford single-family homes when they cost a million dollars? Wages hadn't increased. People making ten bucks an hour were taking out 250 thousand dollar loans to buy houses on the east side that woulda cost maybe 75K a few years ago. As I've watched Austin turn from a cool little town to some sort of gross mini-L.A. over the last decade, I've gotta lay a lot of the blame on this real estate bubble.
I continued to read up on declining lending standards, ARMs, HELOCs, and the collapse of major lenders and home manufacturers. But, one thing I never did until recently was slog through Mackay's 1841 tome "Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds," widely regarded as one of the first and best looks at market psychology. It kept getting referenced whenever I read anything about speculative bubbles, so I had to read it. Well, I still haven't read ALL of it. It's over seven-hundred pages long, and the later chapters focus untold hundreds of those pages on alchemy, the crusades, burning of witches, animal magnetism, prophecies, fortune-telling, catch phrases & slang, holy relics, duels, haunted houses, popular admiration of great thieves, and a chapter entitled "Influence of Politics and Religion on the Hair and Beard," to name but a few of the subjects of this exhaustive (and exhausting) book. I don't think it's one you need read straight through, but can dip into here and there. Keep it on the nightstand. Oh, and this is only volume one.
Of primary interest to me were the chapters on financial and speculative manias: the Mississippi Scheme, the South Sea Bubble, and most famous of all the Dutch Tulip mania. These chapters should be required reading for anybody and everybody, just to ensure that you don't get left holding the bag. You may think that stories of outrageous prices for flowers in the Netherlands in the 17th century would have little to do with the current state of Austin real estate, buy you'd be wrong. Hey, you can read it for free at Project Gutenberg.
Balzac was one of those classic authors who I'd never actually read until a couple of years ago when I read Dylan's "Chronicles, Vol. I" and decided to check him out. Dylan name-drops a lot of authors in that book. Literary recommendations from Bob Dylan mean a lot more to me than user reviews on Amazon. The one that made the most lasting impression was Balzac. The first of his books I read was "Lost Illusions," which I think anybody engaged in any artistic or creative endeavor should make sure to read. I was hooked immediately, and since then I've gone on to check out quite a few titles in "The Human Comedy," Balzac's all-encompassing, unfinished literary masterwork. At ninety-four volumes, The Human Comedy was only half-finished when Balzac basically wrote himself to death at the age of 51. It's heavy shit, dude.
The world of Balzac is one of frilly French lords, art, societal intrigue, concern for social standing, frequent crying and fainting, and money, money, money. It may not sound like something that would interest your average one man band, even one who loves the Upper Crust, but trust me on this one. Once you get submerged in Balzac's world it is a highly addictive experience. Check out Lost Illusions, Old Goriot, A Murky Business, or whatever Balzac titles you come across and you will quickly find yourself in the hands of a master. The plot of Cousin Bette revolves around a wealthy Baron with a penchant for philandering and his family, who is destroyed by it. This may sound totally gay, especially if you've just been reading Jim Thompson or James Ellroy, but Balzac is rapidly becoming one of my favorite authors. I think I'm going to hit "The Black Sheep" next.
I also just finished Jackie Chan's bio "My Life In Action," which is a quick read and should be required for anybody who is a fan of Hong Kong cinema. Currently, I'm reading "The Shock Doctrine" by Naomi Klein (pretty damn harrowing), and "America's Musical Life, A History" by Richard Crawford (a little dry, frankly). I've still got some time before I'm going to be able to do anything with my arm, so I can probably make some more headway on the stack of books I've got piled up here.
I've also been wasting a lot of time online, but frankly, I'm thinking about going cold-turkey on the internet for awhile. I mean hardcore – having no internet at home whatsoever. I can check my email at work, and take the laptop down to the coffee shop if I need to update the web page. Sure, it's a convenience to have an internet connection, as far as looking up information, movie times, or whatever, but it's also an incredible time-waster of massive proportions. Since I've been temporarily incapacitated I've been online quite a bit, and I've gotten a bit disgusted with the whole thing. A friend of mine canceled his myspace account recently, saying that he thought it was an instrument of societal control. Rupert Murdoch owns it, after all. I don't want to cancel mine, since there's a lot of people I keep in touch with mainly through myspace, and myspace isn't even where I waste the majority of my time online. But I'm certainly not going to be on the computer nearly as much once my arm is functional. I've gotta get back in shape, and I've got to start practicing again.
One of the books I read last year was "The Mayor of McDougal Street," the Dave Van Ronk autobiography. It's a good read if you are a fan of Van Ronk, Dylan, Fred Neil, any of the lights of the 60's Village folkie scene. But what really impressed me was how much these people GOT DONE. They were not only working on their music, they were politically active, they were well-read in literature and well-versed in the arts. But one thing they were NOT doing was watching videos on youtube or updating their damn myspace profile. A lot of them were couch-surfing, most owned very little. No ipods or cell phones. And they packed a lot more living into their day-to-day lives. I look at what they got done, and I look at what me and my friends get done. I can't help but conclude I'd get a lot more done if I didn't have the internet around. Do you think Balzac would've written 94 goddamn books if he'd been able to waste time looking up movies on IMDB?
In one anecdote, Van Ronk talks about how there was one Rev. Gary Davis instrumental that all the guitar pickers were working on. Nobody could play it, it was too hard. One of his friends locked himself in his apartment and emerged, six weeks later, "blinking like a mole"...but he'd could play the damn song! How many of the people in the hundreds of bands in Austin devote that kind of time to learning their craft? Hell, most spend more time picking out clothes and working on their website than they do actually listening to music or learning to play their instrument. Bands make t-shirts now before they learn how to write a song. Not much of lasting value seems to be being created. Like the internet, it's virtual, temporary, ephemeral. Good for a few yucks and then quickly forgotten. I don't know, but I think I'm getting fed up with the whole thing.
So, just warning ya – don't expect immediate replies to any myspace messages you send in the near future. I think I'll try to check it maybe once a week or so. If you need to talk to me, give me a call.
Yeah, yeah, so I've been back from tour for a couple weeks now, and still no "tour diary" for ya's...well, here ya go...
First of all, looking through the pictures, it becomes apparent that the one man band makes for BORING photos...after all, it's just a guy sitting in front of a drum kit and holding a guitar. Even if it's a particulary handsome dude like yours truly, it's still boring. You get the idea after a few pics...at least this one from Berlin had a weird light fixture behind me: Here's another one: Sometimes, a real photographer like Sven would be there, and then you at least get a higher quality pic of the same thing...
Unlike the last tour with the Guilty Hearts, it was just me this time. Well, I had a driver, Ramses from the best little bar in Belgium, the Pits. But by just me, I mean - no other bands! I thought that there would be opening acts everywhere I went, but actually, NO! A lot of the gigs were just me, which meant I had to play extra-long sets just to get the crowd going. I was grateful to have gigs with Urban Jr., and The Juke Joint Pimps to liven things up a bit. At one gig with Urban Jr. we even "jammed" together on the Oblivians "Never Change", which was a complete trainwreck as you can probably imagine, and a lot of fun.
There, I've talked about the shows. Now that that's outta the way...
I've been over to Europe a few times now, so what may be new and exciting for you is *yawn* boring to me. Clubs, bars, liquor, rock n' roll, cheese sandwiches. Yeah, yeah. For this tour, one of my requirements for Robert (booking agent supreme!) was that I actually wanted a day or two off somewhere cool, so I could actually see something interesting. I brought the little lady, Ryoko, with me so sell stuff and provide additional body heat since Europe hasn't figured out how to properly heat a bedroom yet...
So, this tour, I actually get to see some of 'Yurp. I had days off in Cologne and Berlin, in Germany, and Bern, Switzerland. So in addition to the usual bars and drunks I got to see...
Castles! Cathedrals!
Unicorns! Gargoyles! (sorry it's so blurry, but I had to zoom in from afar...) And, inside the castles... Guilloteens! (actually used...) Giant swords! Creepy bridges with skeletons painted on them (and also, lots of spiders)! More castles! And even more tourist trap stuff, like Checkpoint Charlie! It's not really that cool, but we did eat at Snackpoint Charlie, which is just as stupid as the name might suggest...
Speaking of food, in addition to there being tons of chocolate everywhere... ...when we stayed in Bern, Beat Man showed us around the town, and also took us to the Onion Festival. An annual winter event, the whole damn town closes down and everybody hits the streets to eat and drink... There was onion soup, onion rings, sauteed onions, you could even buy an onion bouquet... ...or an onion penguin...(?) Traditional swiss music could be heard... I also went by the Voodoo Rhythm warehouse, to grap the few VR titles I don't have yet. There was a big pile of Schooley LP's sitting there. Better get to work, Beat-Man!
Living in Texas has totally made me a wuss as far as cold weather is concerned. Being from Houston, Ryoko had never even seen snow before, so when it started coming down in Munich, she had to run outside and check it out (I stayed in the car...snow sucks!). Ain't she cute? And...more cathedrals! This church had some nice cages on the side, where the leaders of a protestant uprising got hung up to rot (I'm sure that's what Jeebus would've done...) In Zurich, in addition to eating at Europe's oldest vegetarian restuarant, we went to a metal bar owned by the rhythm section of Celtic Frost. This is the bass player, who brought me my Jack Daniels...
Overall, I found my thinking on this tour followed a pattern similar to my previous trips to Europe. Upon first arrival, one is struck by the fact that everyone is thin and well dressed, and the streets are clean, whereas in the states everybody is fat and wearing crocs and pajamas. I swear, the U.S. is becoming more like the movie "Idiocracy" every damn day. So, my first reaction is usually, "Screw the states, I wanna move here!" Of course the old architecture, castles, cathedrals, etc. only add to this feeling. Europe can be pretty incredible.
This feeling lasts for awhile, until the little things like the bathrooms and bedrooms always being freezing-ass cold, the lack of a decent shower, cheese sandwiches for breakfast every damn day, the fact that paprika is considered "spicy", etc. etc. ...ugh. So, after a few weeks of that, I'm ready to come back to home sweet home, the good ol' US of A!
Thanks to Robert for setting it up, Ramses for driving my ass around, Ryoko for coming along, all the promoters who booked me, Beat Man and Frau Zorn for keeping the Voodoo Rhythm corporation alive, and of course all the fans that came out to see me and bought t-shirts.
It's all booked now, thanks to the excellent work of Robert from Kiss n' Run (we go way back, as Robert was the tour manager on the first Revelators tour with the Oblivians). I'll probaby freeze my ass off, as this is a couple of weeks later in the year than my last European tour.
Didn't get to go for as long as I would've liked this year, and didn't make it to as many countries as I wanted - no Serbia, no Spain or Italy, no Scandanavia, no UK. Too bad, but there's always ten years from now. Thanks to José Menor for making this great poster, which I'm sure will be plastered everywhere I go.
I look forward to seeing all the Voodoo Rhythm folks across the pond!
Some new reviews of "One Man Against the World"...
Razorcake Turn it up. TURN IT FUCKING UP. Turn it up. TURN IT FUCKING UP I SAY!!! TURN IT FUCKING UP!!! TURN IT FUCKING UP!!! The first song kind of reminded me of the music to "Beginning of the End" off of the second Eddie & The Hot Rods album. I guess the last one did, too. Did i mention to turn it up? Do so. Seriously. Seriously. Up. Seriously up. No shit. BEST SONG: "One Man Against the World, Part II" BEST SONG TITLE: "Screwdriver," 'cause i'm AN-TI-SO-CIAL! Uh, never mind. FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: Worth purchasing for the liner notes alone, although you can't really turn those up. –Rev. Norb
I-94 Bar (Australia) With an album title like that is John Schooley looking for a therapist or reassurance? Well, here goes. There are times on this album when Schooley sounds like he should rule the world. Now harden the fuck up, son, and keep making music this good. Minimalist rockabilly? Fucked up country blues? Sitting pretty in the garage rock expanse between country, rockabilly and lo-fi blues-skronk, Schooley continues a tradition of compelling and spirited music.
Call it anything you like. Schooley first came to my notice on a Hard Feelings album that The Onyas' Rich Stanley put out in Australia on his Dropkick label half a decade or more ago, and the Texan-by-transplant hasn't put a foot wrong since. While The Hard Feelings were brash, in your face and impossible to ignore, the John Schooley of these days is busy exploring his roots. Which isn't to say this is serious, navel-gazing stuff or overly respectful, it's just that he's taking time to find out who brewed his moonshine.
From the moody, sample-ridden (yes, that read correctly - but relax, it's mostly word salads buried in wheezy harp) opener and title track to the warped reprise of the same song that closes it, this is one stunning trip. Schooley plays the blues/garage/whatever like no-one else. With economy, feeling and scant regard for critical acceptance (though I'm guessing it might be nice to pay the bills.) Just don't expect anything resembling mainstream radio to touch it. Fuckers.
Can you call garage blues a "mash up"? Buggered if I know but there's variety of styles to choose from on this album, whose only common thread is Schooley's rustic ethos. "Cantrell Creek Breakdown" is hillbilly-infested instrumental, "Every Day Can Get You Down" an Oblivians-styled stomp and "The Crooked Path" a cooking blues lament/murder song driven by a husky harmonica and boot-full of Delta dirt. And that's all in the space of three songs.
Lee Hazelwood gets more than a nod in "My Baby Cried All Night Long" (more like a fixated and lengthy gaze.) "I Don't Like The Blues No How" (Carolina Tar Heels), "Wildcat Tamer" (Dale Hawkins) and "Somebody In My Home" (Howlin' Wolf) are all moderately to wildly obscure covers, but perhaps the best appropriation is from someone called Billy Bizor with a live-in-the-radio-studio "Screwdriver" (DJ Kev Lobotomi gets a namecheck in the liners.) Excuse the beatbox here and the vocals could be up in the mix but but the delivery is a killer, with slide so sharp you could slice stale tomatoes with it.
A one man band record with a reason for living. Down, dirty and delectable. – The Barman
Ox Fanzine (Germany) Inzwischen hat sich John Schooley in seiner Rolle als Alleinunterhalter wirklich gut eingelebt. Wir vergessen zwar nicht ganz die Zeiten der REVELATORS and HARD FEELINGS, doch das war gestern und die ONE MAN BAND ist heute. Immerhin ja auch schon mit dem zweiten Longplayer für Voodoo Rhythm. Und da denke ich so beim Hören, Mensch, das hat doch verdammt viel von R.L. Burnside, den du ja auch schon seit Jahren schätzt. Tja, wieder wurde ich von mir selbst als absoluter Experte enttarnt, denn im Info lese ich jetzt, dass der gute John bereits seine Sporen als Tourmusiker von eben jenem R.L. Burnside verdient hat. Und wer jetzt ein Fünkchen Ahnung von Blues hat, wird auch wissen, was ihn auf "One Man Against The World" zu erwarten hat. Direkter, furztrockener Stampf-Sound mit viel Melancholie, Energie und Verspieltheit. Dazu schafft es Schooley stets hervorragend, sich nicht im Kreise zu drehen und selbst zu wiederholen - was bei einem Mann alleine mit Trommel und Gitarre mal gar nicht so einfach ist. Stattdessen bedient er sich bei anderen Stilrichtungen wie Folk, Rockabilly, Punk und R&B, dass es nur so eine Freude ist. Raus aus Texas, rauf auf die Bühnen der Welt. Denn da gehört ein Irrwisch wie John Schooley nun einmal hin.
Goddeau.com Wie zich wel eens aan een stevige cocktail van blues en rock-'n-roll wil wagen en zijn drankje bovendien met een hoop show geserveerd wil krijgen, moet het eenmansspektakel van John Schooley And His One Man Band misschien eens een kans geven. Met One Man Against The World is de eenzaat immers al aan zijn tweede plaat toe en zijn muziek is er niet bepaald eentoniger op geworden.
Hoe beoordeelt men een klassieke garagepunker wiens plaat met een openingsriff van Oasis begint? Moet hij een flinke draai om zijn oren krijgen of moet hij juist aangemoedigd worden in zijn poging om met de ongeschreven wetten van de muziek te breken? Wij hebben er een nachtje over moeten slapen, maar hebben uiteindelijk toch voor het laatste gekozen. One Man Against The World biedt naast een portie klassieke garagerock immers net zo goed een paar leuke verrassingen.
De opener "One Man Against The World (Part I)" en gelijknamige afsluiter "One Man Against The World (Part II)" kan men om te beginnen al moeilijk klassiek noemen. De nummers hebben naast het herkenbare riffje van "Rock 'n Roll Star" immers nog een paar extra rariteiten in huis. Beide nummers blijken bijvoorbeeld uit parlando's opgebouwd en dat terwijl het bluesgehalte van het materiaal er toch nooit onder te lijden heeft.
Het aanstekelijke "Somebody In My Home" is op zijn beurt een cover van Howlin' Wolf, maar weet met het krachtige slagwerk en de steeds dominante mondharmonica net zo goed een meerwaarde te bieden. Helemaal interessant wordt het echter pas in "The Crooked Path", waarin Schooley tegelijkertijd een viool en een mondharmonica hanteert. Tot zulke stunts komt het niet vaak, maar met geloofwaardige nummers over de horror van het alledaagse bestaan als "Every Day Can Get You Down" -- waarin hij af en toe een oerschreeuw laat horen -- hoeft dat gelukkig geen probleem te zijn.
Toch heeft Schooley eveneens zijn minder goede momenten. Wat moeten wij bijvoorbeeld met het halfslachtige "Cantrell Creek Breakdown"? Het nummer heeft een vrij saaie melodie en er zit bovendien geen zang in. Dan liever een nummer als "Screwdriver", waarin er eveneens niet veel zang zit, maar waarin het ritme wel in vijf minuten tot een waanzinnig tempo wordt opgedreven.
Dat Schooleys' minder interessante nummers niet direct achter elkaar staan en met een hoop beter te pruimen nummers afgewisseld worden, maakt echter veel goed. Het zorgt er toch in ieder geval voor dat One Man Against The World een redelijk fijn in het gehoor liggende plaat blijft. Een dergelijk vonnis klinkt uiteraard niet als een grote goednieuwsshow, maar een tegenvaller is One Man Against The World evenmin. De plaat bevat veel interessante ideeën en dat is al reden genoeg om Schooley live of op plaat een kans te geven. Uit de lelijkste rupsen worden er immers vaak de mooiste vlinders geboren.
Sante Fe New Mexican Those who attended this year's Thirsty Ear Festival were treated to the crash 'n' bash one-man blues of Memphis street musician Richard Johnston. Well, here's a Texas version of Johnston, an even crazier one-man blues machine named John Schooley. Like Johnston, Schooley plays guitar (lotsa slide!), drums, and sometimes harmonica simultaneously. He sometimes drifts into country music, knowing full well the cultural and cosmic connections between country and the blues, creating a raw but joyful noise way beyond what you'd think a lone humanoid could produce. Schooley covers R.L. Burnside, Howlin' Wolf, the late Lee Hazlewood ("If you don't like Lee Hazlewood, I don't like you," Schooley says in the liner notes), and the rockabilly classic "Wildcat Tamer." And he's even got an original murder ballad, "The Crooked Path," based on a true story about the killing of four people in a house in Missouri in 1951, in which the killer confesses, "They were good neighbors, but they didn't like me." - Steve Terrell
Shoot Me Again Avec son album éponyme, John Schooley and his One Man Band avait fait l'effet d'une bombe dans le catalogue de Voodoo Rhythm Records. Son retour dans les bacs figure donc parmi les bonnes nouvelles de l'année.
Pourtant à la première écoute de ce One Man Against The World , on est quelque peu dubitatif. L'ancien guitariste accompagnateur de RL BURNSIDE en tournée s'est fait beaucoup plus bricoleur dans ses compositions et on pense à BECK et son premier album sous le bras. Les instrumentations rendent moins sauvage le John Schooley and his One Man Band que l'on a connu. L'utilisation de différents instruments et de samples minimisent le AND HIS ONE MAN BAND . La prouesse solitaire est dès lors mise à mal.
Mais cela vaut la peine de dépasser cet étonnement ! One Man Against The World se révèle à la répétition des écoutes plus intéressant et plus remuant que de prime à bord. C'est d'ailleurs cette richesse des compositions qui va sauver l'album.
On finit par mieux comprendre la démarche du Monsieur qui a choisi de ne pas s'enfermer dans un son trop unique et basique. John Schooley and his One Man Band ouvre son blues aux autres aspects du rock'n'roll. Une touche seventies et de rockabilly par ci. Une version plus moderne et actuelle par là.
John Schooley and his One Man Band a préféré recycler son blues trash puissant plutôt que de se répéter et de s'enfermer dans un schéma restrictif. Le risque de provoquer la lassitude était trop important.
One Man Against The World est donc un album riche à l'intérieur même de chaque composition mais aussi dans son ensemble. Tantôt plus contenu, tantôt plus posé, John Schooley and his One Man Band n'a pas complètement délaissé son côté trash et sauvage surpuissant. Ainsi, le temps de Screwdriver (un ancien titre justement) on replonge dans le style épuré et direct qu'on avait connu avec l'album éponyme.
One Man Against The World figure parmi les albums qui doivent se découvrir. Un album qui doit se décortiquer, même si cela peut sembler paradoxale quand on parle de Blues Trash et de ONE MAN BAND .
One Man Against The World est un album complexe qui n'a pas pour autant perdu complètement de sa spontanéité et où l'énergie brute y est toujours le moteur. - fred
Fileunder (NL) Het is niet gemakkelijk om in je eentje een band te vormen. En dan bedoel ik niet gewoon een man met zijn (akoestische) gitaar, maar een echte band. Met drums, zang, gitaar en de hele rataplan. Ik zie ze ook steeds minder, zo'n man alleen die bepakt en bezakt met instrumenten rondtrekt. Da's best jammer, want meestal zijn het zeer vermakelijke acts. John Schooley is er dus nog wel eentje en een van uitstekende kwaliteit ook nog eens. Vroeger speelde hij in een band, The Revelators, maar nu heeft hij zijn handen en voeten vol met instrumenten om in zijn uppie vuige bluestrash te spelen. Op One Man Against The World speelt hij naast nummers van zichzelf ook nummers van anderen. Zo doet hij "Somebody In My Home" van Howlin' Wolf, maar dan voorzien van een Captain Beefheart-arrangement. Bescheiden als hij is, zegt Schooley in het begeleidende schrijven dat hij niet kan zingen als Wolf en Beefheart en dat ook niet geprobeerd heeft. Hij moet het doen met wat hij heeft. Mij hoor je overigens daarover niet klagen, want hij lijkt wel een beetje op Masters of Reality's Chris Gross en daar houd ik wel van. Het enige wat ik wat minder vind aan One Man Against The World is de wat monotone drumpartijen. Maar als ik Schooley al spelend tegen zou komen in een stad, dan zou ik absoluut even blijven staan om te luisteren en ik zal zeker ook een euro in zijn gitaarkoffer doen.
Rock Around the Blog It´s the return of John Schooley, by the extraordinary Voodoo Rhythm, an "One Man Band" that does a journey "Against The World", not doing it however alone, therefore does be accompanied for a spiritual, traditional and rustic "lo-fi rockabilly-blues", that transports the dirtiness of the "delta" up to our times, with excellent covers of Dale Hawkins, Howlin' Wolf, Lee Hazlewood and Carolina Tar Heels, this record is essential.
John Schooley's a travelin' man. On the cover of his second LP for Swiss garage label Voodoo Rhythm, we find the local one-man band wielding a machete, guitar safely at his shoulder, collaged next to the Eiffel Tower and the pyramids. No, Schooley hasn't gone world music; we still get his bluesy stomp and slide, at a marathon 14 songs. With a guitar, harmonica, and kick drum, he unfolds tales of his beloved South via a few choice covers (namely a cello-laden stroll through the late Lee Hazlewood's "My Baby Cried All Night Long"), a killer instrumental (the rockabilly romp "Hudcore"), and even a little electro-dalliance ("One Man Against the World Part II"). And at the end of the World, Schooley's true to his roots, whether blasting through the Oblivians thump of "Every Day Can Get You Down" or the holler of "The Crooked Path." Roll on.
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In addition, Beat Man sent me a copy of an email he recieved from PBS Radio 106.7 in Melbourne, Australia (the station where I recorded track 13 on the new rekkid). Dammit, I've gotta get back to Australia.
Hey Beatman,,,,,,,,,how are you, apart from producing some of the best releases coming to this station. About five weeks ago you sent us the incredible "John Schooley And His One man Band", sat on my desk till now. Sorry about this as l returned today after four weeks in hospital and other staff were reluctant to touch anything on my desk. Well we blew the walls of my office out today as we cranked up the sound and gave that cd a working. Office opinion was "Yeah it Does IT". I have allocated the cd to a relatively new show here at PBS, "Nu-Bluez" Saturday 1 to 3pm with Mark "Hepcat" Heylbut, a show only playing new comtempory Blues. This is perfect for the show. Oh by the way C.W. Stoneking (who is a friend of mine actually) and "Voodoo Rhythm Records" has been receiving lots of press here in Melbourne Australia. Now keep that rockin' going and we will keep it spinnin'. .....regards Peter.
And, hey, if you bothered to read this far, can you do me a favor? The number of decent print magazines, rock zines, public/college radio stations, etc. that are actually worth sending a promo copy to has dropped considerably even since my last LP. I'm kind of at a loss as to where to send this one. I don't read many music blogs so that's an unknown area for me. I don't have a ton of copies to waste, so I wanna make 'em count.
It's all word of mouth today anyway. Nobody trusts the media or listens to the radio, we only trust each other. It's an insular world where you can pretty much ignore anything you don't wanna hear about. But we trust people we know. So tell a few friends that I've got a new record. I'd sho' be grateful. If you know anybody who would actually do a decent review of my record or would actually spin it in a way it could be heard by the masses, lemme know!
My new Voodoo Rhythm album "One Man Against the World" is out now. 14 tracks on timeless 180 gram vinyl and totally obsolete 4.5 inch plastic with cover by Rob Jones (who also did the new White Stripes cover). Rob wants everyone to know that the cover design was my idea. Apparently he doesn't think it's as funny as I do...
No downloads, yet. (Beat Man hasn't found a download thing he's happy with but he tells me he's working on it. You should be able to buy mp3's of Voodoo Rhythm stuff soon. In the meantime, check Soulseek. I'm gonna try to get some mp3's up on my website ASAP...)
My "record release show" will be at the Deep Blues Festival in River Falls, WI on August 18th!
