Hat Land, duh! Won Hun Dreads!

I wrote these for a local publication that decided not to use them. I figured you guys should know about these shows regardless of our agreement. NOTE: The above title is a reference to my favorite theme park, Hat Land, where (obviously) I won my authentic Hun dreadlock wig in a ring-toss game scenario. It is NOT a phonetic recreation of the publication's title. 

St. Paul & the Broken Bones @ The EARL 2/22/2014

St. Paul and the Broken Bones, the latest pride of Birmingham, AL pick up where Clarence Carter and Wilson Pickett left Muscle Shoals all those decades ago. Singer Paul Janeway channels some of the legends of 60’s soul, and is a lively frontman for one of the best live acts of the New Year. So, be sure to put on your best dancing shoes and put the kids to bed. This six-piece band, including a full horn section, is making a huge impression on the scene, and is sure to move and groove the East Atlanta club on Saturday night.

Alejandro Escovedo and Peter Buck @ the EARL 3/1/2014

This is a rare opportunity to see two songwriting giants on an intimate stage in one night. REM guitarist Peter Buck will join Austin, TX legend, Alejandro Escovedo at the small East Atlanta club for an unforgettable set of classic tunes. Hailed as one of the best singer-songwriters of the 90’s, Escovedo has had a roller coaster career and is back on his first headlining tour since 2010. Peter Buck will open the set, hopefully playing cuts off of his highly anticipated second solo album, I’m Back to Blow Your Mind Once Again. This will be one for the books.

Stephen Malkmus and The Jicks @ Terminal West 3/4/2014

One of the 90’s most prolific and influential musicians, Malkmus and his group Pavement helped to define the slacker-rock aesthetic of the decade. Their 1994 hit “Cut Your Hair” launched their career and put them into the mainstream. Following their breakup in 2000, Malkmus embarked on a solo career with the Jicks that continued to focus on his unique guitar and dry commentary songwriting. Their latest, Wig Out at Jagbags, was released in early January, and has garnered a lot of positive attention from fans and critics alike. It is some of the strongest material Malkmus has cut in years.

Black Lips and Deerhunter @ Variety Playhouse 3/7/2014

Two of Atlanta’s most celebrated bands of the last decade are sharing the stage in this instant classic, duel-headliner event.  Through several incarnations and band members, the Black Lips have created a unique, high-energy sound that has become some of the best of the city’s punk scene. They’ll undoubtedly be debuting cuts from their highly anticipated 2014 release, Underneath the Rainbow, which is due out in March. Local favorite, Deerhunter is also on the bill. Bradford Cox and Co. will be bringing a set of their ambient melodic guitar-driven tunes to the stage in support of their latest album, Monomania.

Real Estate @ Terminal West 3/31/2014

Real Estate have spent the last five years quietly building a strong fan base, a steady live and studio lineup, and unique sound of jangly landlocked surf-pop. Their self-titled debut and 2011’s Days were both highly critically acclaimed and landed them a contract with Domino Recording Company. Original members, Martin Courtney, IV, Matt Mondanile and Alex Bleeker recruited drummer Jackson Pollis and keyboardist Matt Kallman to join as permanent members after recording their latest studio album, Atlas, due out early March.  Don’t miss this exciting band in its most solid incarnation at one of the coolest new venues in Atlanta.

Drive-By Truckers Album Release 3/4/2014

English Oceans, the latest album from Athens veteran rockers, the Drive-By Truckers is due out in early March. It is the 12^th studio effort from the group in their road-worn career. Guitarist Mike Cooley described the album as “going back to that simple sound”.  The Truckers recorded in their hometown at Chase Park Transductions, just outside downtown. It’s their first album in about four years, but it still features the stripped-down, Southern heartache and soul that fans of the group have come to love. The real treat will be when the band brings these new songs to town. Stay tuned.

Oh, hello, T. Hardy Morris.

I didn't see you there.

It's been a while.

I realize I'm quite late to your party.

I meant to arrive sooner, really. I'm just not a punctual man.
It's a character flaw, and I'm working on it.

I saw your You Tube videos. I caught your opening set for Television.

I loved your invitations. I saved the date. But somewhere between my adult softball team's playoff run and an endless series of grueling Seinfeld binges on Crackle, life got in the way. The invitation got buried somewhere. It's no excuse really. But I have to tell you one of the biggest reasons I didn't come was...

I hadn't got around to listening to your album, man.

Until about a month ago, I was at a loss for new music. Sure, I heard some promising singles here and there. But every time I went to Pitchf***k, all they had for me were what seemed to be just mix tapes of clever synthpop. There was no meat, no cohesion.

Over the winter months I withered, uninspired.

Then, that fateful morning in Wuxtry's when I happened upon the soft, red jacket in the local section that held my invitation. I put that needle right between the lines of that slick, black ink, and I knew.

I wasn't too late. I could still join the party. I'd been a fool to not go before.

And I have to tell you, man. It's been quite a shindig.

Hanging out on the comfortable chord progressions by the couch; egging on the fight with the drums on the patio; bringing it all down to a whisper when the cops came to the door.

I've been moved. I've been grooved. I've fallen down laughing like I don't know how to act. I've even had heart-to-hearts with friends.

All your friends were really nice, too. Matt, Ian, Thayer, Pistol...they brought so much to the table it was a country style buffet. Tell them I said hey.

I've been telling all my friends to stop by. None of them have left yet.



Mind if I crash on the couch?

Update: here are some photos from last night

Unknown Legends

Originally posted @ Consume-Media.com

Even though the band claims its roots in Athens, Georgia, Atlanta is still kind of a hectic homecoming for Futurebirds. When I was talking to ToJo Dojo a.k.a. Thomas Johnson in the ballroom lobby of the Buckhead Theatre, we could barely get five words into a conversation before an old friend or family member would spot the distinguishingly bearded guitarist, stop, chat, and beam with holiday spirit and pride for the progress of the young band.

Thomas greeted each one with more zeal as he got more drunk on the comfort of being back home and the venue-provided Bud Light. When I told him I wanted to shoot a little promo for Consume, he suggested we go backstage where we would have a some quiet and a chance to catch up.

This is a big night for Futurebirds for more reasons than just impressing a hometown crowd.

It’s their first show in a while. They’ve been laying low in Richmond, Virginia, at Montrose Recording studios tracking their third LP that they hope to release into the world by next Fall. The departure from their stomping grounds at Chase Park Transductions in Athens was welcome, Johnson told me, they needed to shake up their environment in order to decompress, but also to avoid the creative trap of familiarity and comfort.

“We knew the room, the boards, everything so well,” Johnson said. “Which can be good, but we just wanted to loosen up and get a change of scenery.”

They’re excited about the album, genuinely invested in their baby. Thomas and guitarist Daniel Womack had something good to say about every track. Because they are a band born and bred on the road, their songs seem to really come together live. So with the new record on the horizon, they worked a few of the tracks into Friday night’s set.

Even with a receptive Atlanta crowd, it can be intimidating to test new material in front of an audience. But the Birds donned their best Santa suits, Heisenberg T-shirts and googley-eyed sport coats and pulled out some songs that had a surprisingly pure rock n’ roll feel to them. Not Buddy Holly. Greasy 1970’s, long-haired stoned-out romps. The new tunes fit right in amongst the sing-along wordless chorus of “Yr Not Dead” and the Peter Buck-esque “Serial Bowls”. It was an evolved sound that still held on to that indefinable Futurebird mojo.

But that maturity didn’t stop with the new material. The boys pulled out polished up versions of early tracks like “MJB”, material off Hampton’s Lullaby, “Johnny Utah”, “Happy Animals” and “Battle for Rome”, and they made them sweeter, more gutsy but still refined. They even paid homage to Neil Young and the Stones with roaring covers of “Unknown Legend” and “Rocks Off”.

The band was on their game. Harmonies came together better than ever. Guitars cut, drums grooved and bass danced, all wrapped in the velvety waves of Dennis Love’s ‘verb-ed out pedal steel.

And the Buckhead Theatre rocked and swayed in approval. Amidst a violent sea of Patagonia vests, people sang out at the top of their lungs, joining in on the raucous mood of the show, all while Futurebirds remained headstrong in their drunken swagger.

Futurebirds’ shows are an experience, for sure. Friday was a night of old friends, proud family, good beer, a little whiskey, and music that brought it all together. But it never ceases to amaze me how this band can bring so much out of its audience. I’ve never heard someone walk away from their show disappointed. Their excitement is contagious, an intangible aura that comes from a profound passion for the music they’re creating. So, catch them on their next tour and be on the lookout for the next album.

There’s a reason the band is already the next big thing coming out of Athens.

18 Great Songs Over 5 Minutes, 5 Best songs under 2 minutes.

If you were to check out the track listing of the Monkees, or any comparable 60's pop band's Greatest Hits compilation, you would likely notice that rarely does a song break the two-minute mark. Now, an artist used to be able to build a modest career on this formula. But even though our attention span for everything else is shrinking, artists have since been pushing the time limit for songs further and further.

Personally, I love lengthy tunage. It really distinguishes artists who have the ability to craft something profound and developed. So, I decided to compile my favorite songs over five minutes. The criteria for this ranking? Of course, it had to be over five minutes. It also needed at least 15 plays on my iTunes. I thought it would be hard to meet these standards, but I ended up having to choose my favorites. Here is the result.

Star Witness, Neko Case, 5:17, 21 Plays

Lyrics are pure. Harmonies are organic. Haunting riff, sparse production. Strings. And that voice. Oof. That voice.

Know Til Now, Jim James, 6:27, 41 Plays

Hokey synths. Shiny Vocals. Interwoven Rhythms. Hypnotic, head-bob worthy groove. Surprise Ending.

Harmonia, Cass McCombs, 5:26, 27 Plays

Tight Bass. Uplifting pedal steel. Acoustic strumming worthy of slow motion road trip sequence.

Metanoia, MGMT, 13:52, 11 Plays

Ambitious. Huge. Roaming. Righteous.

The Moldau, Bedřich Smétana, 12:59, 18 Plays

Quite literally a river of music. A natural, moving force of precision and determination in melody and form.

Little Johnny Jewel, Television, 7:45, 19 Plays

Deceptively planned. Perfectly improvised. Ugly guitar. Beautiful composition.

Sound of Failure, Flaming Lips, 7:18, 18 Plays

Drozd polka. Outdated pop culture references. Catchy as hell.

Shake it Off, Wilco, 5:43, 16 Plays

A stuttering beat meets a fluttering jam. Some of the best guitar playing Wilco has to offer.

Freddie Freeloader, Miles Davis, 9:49, 23 Plays

If you want to know what bebop Miles Davis is. This is it. Cool, mellow and explosive all at the same time.

Silver Song, Conspiracy of Owls, 6:10, 19 Plays

Classic without sounding old. Poppy without sounding redundant.

Ambulance Blues, Neil Young, 8:56, 25 Plays

The best Neil Young song you probably haven't heard.

Heroin, Velvet Underground, 7:13, 15 Plays

This is the reason I was sad when Lou Reed died.

Eyesore, Women, 6:25, 16 Plays

Haunting melody. Killer bassline. And a tambourine that gives you hope.

Jeremy's Storm, Tame Impala, 5:28, 19 Plays

Doesn't need lyrics. Textured groove that would make the Floyd jealous.

Cursed Sleep, Bonnie "Prince" Billie, 5:36, 20 Plays

Quiet instrumentation and a melody that pulls at your heart strings. Pained love is often the most beautiful.

Mare, Julian Lynch, 5:31, 23 Plays

Loose tom groove, auto-wah guitar, and a glockenspiel-undertoned melody. Need I say more?

Freddie's Dead, Curtis Mayfield, 5:30, 23 Plays

super.Fuckin.fly. Flea stole all of his bass lines from Joseph "Lucky" Scott.

Goin To Alcapulco, The Band, 5:29, 21 Plays

The Band is called the Band because they are THE BAND. This song brings me close to tears.




Now, for all of you who don't have all the time in the world to devote to music like I do, I've picked the best five songs under 2 minutes. Monkees, eat your pre-Head hearts out.


A Pretty Dress, King Tuff, 1:58, 16 Plays

Communist Daughter, Neutral Milk Hotel, 1:57, 12 Plays

Hold On, John Lennon, 1:52, 13 Plays

Magic Trick, M.Ward, 1:45, 16 Plays

'Til the Morning Comes, Neil Young, 1:21, 16 Plays

There Can Be Only One

Originally posted @Consume-Media.com

For the second time in as many years, Cass McCombs graced the stage of East Atlanta's premier venue, the EARL. It was not the packed, sweaty Thursday night of 2012. It was a sparse room, maybe 80 people, who had braved their way to the club on a drizzling Monday night.

The band took the stage in a mild-mannered form that has become somewhat of a signature for the quiet songwriter. They blazed through the first three tracks, barely stopping between them, as if they didn't want to risk the applause. But as they hit their stride in "Their Can Be Only One", the loose, jammy single from McCombs' latest album, Big Wheel and Others, something clicked.

They settled into the groove, the rhythm of the room. Joe Russo, of the Benevento/Russo Duo and Further, who played on the Big Wheel sessions, was pulling double duty on bongos with his right hand while holding down the beat with a single stick in his left. Jon Shaw moved effortlessly through the Mike Gordon bass lines, careful not to just copy the Phish bassist's studio work. And Dan Lead traded funky rhythms and quick fills with Cass on guitar.

They became a force, swapping musical cues in an almost extra-sensory trance. Precision and mastery of the songs and the sound mixed with an excitement that came only from exploration. The band was in their own world, but at that moment, they opened up to us. There was an intimacy that grew, a bond with the crowd that overtook the whole mood of the club for the rest of the set.

"Cass is amazing. But with this new band, they're unstoppable," said Corey Allender, bass player in Arbouretum, who served up some sludgey, driving, fuzz-laced melodies as the opener on Monday night. He's watched McCombs and company play almost every night of the past few weeks, and he's still in awe, still on his toes throughout every set.

"I don't know how they do it," he spoke quickly in between songs, "They add another three or four new songs to the set every night." The drums of "Big Wheel" rumbled in from the back of the stage. "Fuck yeah," he said. "I love this song."

The 20-date tour is a bit of a musical mismatch, Allender admitted to me, and superficially, he's right. Arbouretum is an eclectic mix of folky stoner/doom rock, not exactly what springs to mind when you think of Cass's sound. But in the pairing, there's insight into McCombs' songs and his fan base. In order to truly appreciate his records, it's crucial to have an unusually diverse taste in music.

McCombs is an enigmatic figure. He has garnered the reputation of a nomad, a troubadour. But as much as he moves from place to place in life, he moves twice as fast in his music. If you were to listen to "Love Thine Enemy", you'd be tempted to call his music Rock. "Pregnant Pause" is a finger-picked acoustic number. "Joe Murder" could be considered post-rock, even avant-garde. The songs don't seem to fit together, from album to album. And yet, every one of those tunes made an appearance on Monday night, fitting seamlessly into the set. The band was riding wave after wave on a steady ocean of McCombs' back catalog. Songs from Prefection, Catacombs, and Wit's End all came out with full confidence, spawning almost effortless jams and improvisations. They even pulled out an unreleased track that Cass called "The Missing Link". The small crowd even coaxed an encore, a fantastic version of "County Line".  

But with the final chords of the night still echoing off the walls of the EARL, the band left the stage, and the trance was broken. It was past midnight. I walked to my car in a daze, reveling in the afterglow, reflecting on the purity of that organic performance, and, ultimately, forgetting to close my bar tab.

Cool Blog No. 1

Originally posted @ Consume Media

Those who watched MGMT play at the Tabernacle last Sunday night witnessed a band that has finally come into its own. They are at home with their sound. At home with their place in the musical world, each piece of the band finely, precisely settling around singer, guitarist Andrew VanWyngarden and synth czar, Ben Goldwasser. After just releasing their third, self-titled album, MGMT has become a band aware of their limitations, their strengths and their reach. Knowing when to please the crowd with chart toppers like “Electric Feel”. Knowing when to sprinkle in deep tracks like the twelve-minute opus of “Siberian Breaks”. All holding down the attention of the starkly different fan base that ranges from high school dance fiends to psychedelic beatniks.

This international tour seems to have completed the band in more ways than one. Their last two records showed a massive departure from their 2007 breakout, Oracular Spectacular, a split that sort of estranged them from their electro-pop duo reputation. 2011’s Congratulations even had a marked cynicism toward that label and what was beginning to feel like reluctant success. But this year’s release, MGMT, shows a maturity, a unified progression. It is a concrete step forward into a sound that allows an embracing of the old, as well as a deconstruction of the past, and a comfort found only in a future of recognition and self-fulfillment.

And this show, this tour, was a manifestation of that. Tourmates, Kuroma, originally the solo effort of friend and collaborator Hank Sullivant, is a big part of that. About half of it to be exact. Sullivant, along with Will Berman and James Richardson make up the bulk of both Kuroma and MGMT. Richardson opens the night on bass, swapping to guitar for the headliner, and Berman stays on drums for both sets, but Sullivant is the real missing piece. He completes the full chemistry of MGMT, fleshed out since their early Memphis beginnings by filling out the vocal melodies and rounding out the guitar parts to recreate the studio sheen that makes the group such a shining example of psych/dream-pop.

                             Kuroma (L to R: Simon O'Connor, Hank Sullivant, James Richardson, Will Berman)

The band has garnered a crowd, a following that loves them for a sound they’ve defined. They’ve been comfortable in the studio since day one, but line-up changes and fast-growing, turbulent hype, seemed to jar their live shows in the past. This performance at the Tabernacle was something new. It was confidence beyond their years. It was a strength found by surrounding themselves with songs and people in which they believed. There was no rejection of the premature hits of “Kids” and “Time to Pretend”. Early deeps cuts like “Weekend Wars”, “Pieces of What” and “Of Birds, Moons and Monsters” were re-explored. “Dan Treacy” and “Flash Delirium” were flawlessly executed, and new songs “Your Life is a Lie” (with special fan appearance) “Cool Song No. 2” and “Alien Days” showed up as the band finished up the set. They worked from material from three absolutely distinct albums, three different eras and mindsets, and managed to sound like a cohesive, moving force. It was inspiring to watch.

A veritable sea of cell phone videographers emerges to capture "Electric Feel". 

Ironically, it prohibited most from actually dancing to the song.  

It’s almost always too early to speculate as to what will remain a classic. But there’s no doubt that MGMT is a defining band in this generation of music. This is the type of band that grows by creating a community of artists and fans, firmly rooting it in the audio aesthetic of the era, extending its influence as a source, and resurrecting a recurrent sound while dodging the spoiled nature of over-exposed pop. Whatever the group creates next will follow in that path. MGMT seems to be a band of conviction. But this tour and this lineup represent a definite high in the both their and Kuroma’s careers.

Be on the lookout for Kuroma’s next studio album, Kuromarama. And be sure to grab a copy of MGMT at your local record store.

Jonny Fritz. Gentleman, Craftsman, Showman.

Going to see Mr. Fritz perform live is like stepping into a space/time continuum of undiluted songwriting and soulful country twang. It can even transport you past the awkward, shuffling, Converse, plaid mass that tried more than once to interject into some of his freeform vocal performances with an unwanted clapping rhythm.

"Stop that," he spoke in a stanza break.

Clap....Clap.......Clap..Clap...clap...

"Please. Stop it." He broke out in a grin.


The crowd laughs and is still. I don't think they know whether or not to take the man seriously. One moment he's singing about the doggone trash. And with the next verse, his words cause a heart-racing silence through the club. That's when you realize that Fritz has much more to him than meets the eye.

The EARL was his final show on a stint with Langhorne Slim, supporting his fantastically dark Dad Country. That perpetual grin is only partially covered by a half-grown beard. His slogan could be "Smart-Ass Lyrics with a Smile". He's wearing a magnificently embroidered cardigan, hiding, I would later find out, an even more magnificently embroidered denim shirt baring the likeness of his right-hand fiddleman, Josh Hedley. If his guitar didn't have "Jonny Corndawg" written in pearl down the fretboard, I'd think he stole it. His father actually made it.

But that's Jonny. Rough n' tumble, every-tattoo-tells-a-story-and-I-got-some-good-stories kinda country. These aren't tall tales, though. They weren't bought. Dad Country deals with some shit. Real shit. Stinky shit. The songs are frank. They're a glimpse into Fritz's life, both on the road and at home. Women come and go and some are missed more than others. God and hope are found and lost.

The album is great, don't get me wrong. I have the glow-in-the-dark vinyl on my turntable to prove my love. But when you strip away the production, layered harmonies, drums, bass and pedal steel, you get to see uniquely crafted duo bang out some one of a kind performances. The lit snob in me wants to call it poetry. And it's not just the lyrics. The words are powerful, but the delivery is the followthrough. It can knock you out if you let it.

Offstage, Fritz is probably one of the nicest dudes you'll ever care to meet. My girlfriend...let's call her "Holly"...tried to buy one of his guitar straps for my last birthday. He had just signed to ATO and was a bout to start the tour. He couldn't do it then, but he wrote her a friendly email apologetically declining. He remembered her when we approached him after his set. I was drunk and wanted to tell him how much I appreciated him carrying the torch of Waylon, Merle and Billy Joe. I ended up telling him how much I liked his sweater. He showed us the stitching of Josh's face on his back.

"Idn't that cool?"

He bought us a drink. We talked for a good minute. I bought a copy of the vinyl.

"Make sure they get the gift bag," he said to the lady behind the merch table. Turning to Holly, "We got these great gift bags made up for the tour.

"And make sure they get the glow-in-the dark one. And the oatmeal pie. Do you guys want a poster?"

Of course we do.

No, no, Jonny. Thank You a lot.