‘Songwriting is like creating a riddle and solving it’ A pre-Twangfest interview with Justin Wade Tam of Humming House

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Justin Wade Tam’s fledgling Humming House is an impressive bunch. Sporting an eclectic cast of members with a wide array of folky talents from soulful vocals to mandolin righteousness, Humming House has been impressing crowds with their playful blend of Irish, Americana and country-porch stomp leading up to and since the release of the self-titled 2012 debut record.

Like the band’s polished first two videos for “Gypsy Django” and “Cold Chicago,” the record (produced by Mitch Dane and Vance Powell) showcases Humming House’s propensity for innovation and experimentation as well as thoughtful songwriting.

This year’s Twangfest (running June 6-9) will be Humming House’s St. Louis debut. Those of us that have heard the band are excited and those that haven’t don’t know what kind of an extraordinary sound awaits them. I recently interviewed lead singer/guitarist Justin Wade Tam by phone about the formation of Humming House, songwriting, the contemporary view of Nashville, musical proliferation, live covers and the production of his band’s debut record.

Will Kyle: Can you talk about the jam sessions you hosted that led up to meeting future Humming House band members?

Justin Wade Tam: You’re talking about the Irish nights. On Sunday nights, we would do this thing called “Finnegan’s Folly” on Sunday nights. The story is that my wife did her Master’s in Dublin at Trinity College. She’s sort of Ms. Ireland around here, so we decided to host jam sessions where we just played Irish pub songs and drank Jameson.

We found an old songbook of Irish pub tunes and started playing them. There’d be anywhere between six to twenty people sitting around with stringed instruments singing along.

I found this very cool for Nashville, because people here are usually very serious about music, so having a situation where anyone could pick up and play three chords or sing along is refreshing. For most music people in Nashville, it’s almost always business related. The jam sessions were more informal.

Did the sessions reach critical mass?

The Irish nights sessions lasted about four or five months. It’s how we started playing with our mandolin player. He used to play in a bluegrass band, so he was able to join right in. After that the jam sessions morphed to be more about the band.

Seems like a natural progression. In your music I’ve noticed you often engage in multiple styles of music in one song, something I don’t see very often. One can hear stylistic movement in the course of one song. Was this a conscious decision?

We just write how we write. I know that’s vague, I mean, we intentionally nod to genre, but I’ve never set out to be like, “You know what, today I’m gonna write a rock song.” No, what happens just kinda happens.

Someone once told me songwriting is like creating a riddle and solving it. I like that, because you start out, but don’t really know what’s going on, so you have to sit back and say, “Well here’s what I’ve said so far, now how do I finish this story out?”

I see that same thing happening in other forms of composition, like poetry and short-form jokes. The artist has to take stock and figure out the next step.

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Posted by | May 24, 2012 | Interviews, Music | Comment 

Concert review: Gregory Alan Isakov (with Geoff Koch) satisfies hearts, minds and ears at the Old Rock House, Thursday, May 17

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On Thursday night, Gregory Alan Isakov performed a well-attended show at the Old Rock House. Behind him stood a projected, sepia-tinged, photo depicting a rural youth listening intently to a large, conical, medieval-looking, horn-shaped hearing device.

The image struck me. It seemed an apt metaphor for Isakov and his music. He is the youth, or rather, his art is, and like the image, representative of life’s constant search, of its hunt for that elusive melodic force that haunts us as it flits between the trees, lost to wind and distance.

Like a sound adrift on the wind, Isakov’s music never settles, never sits contentedly while life chugs on by. No, Isakov’s catalog warms the soul with rustic literary intimations steeped in American melancholia.

Geoff Koch opened the evening with a set of tunes that reminded me of a subdued version of Two Gallants, perhaps because of Koch’s propensity for stacking phrases and melodies. The crowd enjoyed Koch’s sometimes brazen and folky but always deeply introspective ramblers.

Soon after, Isakov took the stage along with cellist Phillip Parker and violinist Jeb Bows. The trio slipped into the quiet, but happy “Virginia May,” from 2009′s “This Empty Northern Hemisphere.” While the female backing vocals and brushed drums of the studio version were missing, the warm starkness the violin and cello afforded the songbed made it feel full nonetheless.

“Big Black Car” was bursting with dulcet care and dark whimsey. The parts book-ending the chorus were pure delicious harmony coupled with Isakov’s trademark “Mmmhmm’s.” The unreleased “The Universe” found Isakov singing into a second microphone with an AM radio-style, treble effect, which lent the track a gothic, M. Ward-esque feel.

Everyone stood stone still for “The Stable Song” from 2007′s “The Sea, The Gambler.” Isakov leaned hard on the vocals, squeezing every ounce of the emotion available from the melody. Bows flipped his violin sideways and plucked the strings to imitate the sound of a mandolin crossed with a banjo. Parker pulled his bow across his cello strings, encouraging thick thrums of sonic energy to loll forth like a lion’s tongue.

Isakov performed “3 AM” solo. Under dimmed house lights, it was as if the artist was speaking personally to each of us, while simultaneously somehow addressing everyone. The multi-gamut aspect sent satisfied tingles coursing up and down my spine as Isakov fell into the craw of another cyclically melodic choruses.

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Posted by | May 18, 2012 | Concerts | Comment 

Album review: Justin Townes Earle moves on with ‘Nothing’s Gonna Change the Way You Feel About Me Now’ (MP3 download)

Justin Townes Earle
Nothing’s Gonna Change the Way You Feel About Me Now
Bloodshot
 
That Justin Townes Earle would begin his career in the shadow of other great songwriters was unavoidable; after all, his father is Steve Earle, and he carries the name of late Texas songwriter Townes Van Zandt. 
 
Yet despite the long shadow those two songwriters cast, the younger Earle has always forged his own path musically, a path that has typically been much more country than that of either his father or his namesake. However, on his latest record, “Nothing’s Gonna Change the Way You Feel About Me Now,” he diverges from that country road and channels a Memphis soul sound.
 
Earle has spoken both of the similarities between chord progressions in soul and country music, and of the fact that both musical genres have roots in the church, in gospel and worship songs. So, the move from a Nashville to a Memphis sound was a logical one for him, and the record was even recorded in a converted church. Produced by Earle and “Harlem River Blues” co-producer Skylar Wilson, it was recorded live in the studio (no overdubs), over a four-day period in Asheville, N.C. Their intention was to create a collection of songs that were both timely and timeless.
 
Still, Earle seems burdened by his familial connections. The record opens with “Am I That Lonely Tonight?” as he sings the first line, “Hear my father on the radio, singing ‘Take me Home again.’” A subtle horn section swells behind the singer’s vocal, underscoring the forlorn feeling that pervades the song and the record overall. The horns serve that same purpose throughout, as on “Look the Other Way,” a sad, albeit more hopeful, tune about trying to get the attention of a woman. He could be a better man for her, but she always looks the other way.
 
There are some upbeat songs here too, such as “Baby’s Got a Bad Idea,” but many of the songs are slower numbers; quiet tunes and hushed confessionals that offer a glimpse into a conflicted and desolate world of heartache and loneliness. The record finds a groove, however, as on “Down On the Lower East Side” with its jazzy beat, brushed snare and muted trumpet. But in spite of arrangements and the Memphis soul spirit, it never really swings until nearly the end, with the rollicking “Memphis in the Rain,” one of the best songs on the album.
 
Earle brings a lot of emotional weight to his lyrics, and by the end of the record it seems he’s at least worked through some of his issues as he closes the album with “Movin’ On.” With a great walking bass line and simple supporting harmonica, Earle sings, “I’m trying to move on,” and the listener feels he really means it.

“Nothing’s Gonna Change the Way You Feel About Me Now,” is a solid effort from talented young singer-songwriter. If a record like this is the result of Earle “movin’ on” from his country and Americana roots, then it will be fascinating to see what musical direction he heads in next.

“Look the Other Way” – Justin Townes Earle

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Posted by | May 7, 2012 | Album Reviews | 1 Comment 

Concert review: Jeffrey Foucault impresses a seated Off Broadway, Thursday, April 26

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Part John Prine, part Dylan, part lonely cowboy swilling whiskey out on a moonlit prairie, Jeffrey Foucault has a chameleonic sound. This quality enhances the troubadour’s grace and emboldens the emotional power of the music.

Many of Foucault’s moving ballads are concerned with introspection and love lost, often couched in the loneliness of travel. “Starlight and Static,” from 2011′s “Horse Latitudes,” washed over the crowd at Off Broadway with tight hammer-ons and dulcet picking. Foucault’s voice stood alone, unlike on the studio version, lending the song new-found power and humanity.

“Pretty Girl in a Small Town” conjured Tom Petty vibes, as well as heartache elusively playing the edge of fiery expression, an effect conjured in all of the evening’s songs, performed stripped-down, solo and subdued. No drums, no bass, no keys — no back up anything — just a guitar and Foucault’s pure, north-country drawl.

“Ghost Repeater,” from the 2006 album of the same title, suggested Steve Earle crossed with Drive-By Truckers. The zydeco accordion featured on the studio version was absent here, which, again, lent the song a certain satisfying emotional resonance.

“Goners Most,” full of crystalline moments concerned with death and dreaming, brought the quiet warmth of Foucault’s voice to the forefront. The man is a poet, for he made “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust” new again simply by adding a “for” before each phrase. An interlude lulled the audience with a delicate mood as light as crêpe paper. Before anyone knew it, Foucault’s fingertip released a final hammer-on and the instrumental melted into the nothingness of silence.

As Foucault neared the end of his set, he offered up the most satisfying version of “Passerines” I have ever heard — studio or otherwise. Again, the pedal steel and backup vocals of the album version were appropriately absent. “Nothing I Wouldn’t Do,” from 2010′s “Cold Satellite,” told the story of a man who would do anything for his woman, but Foucault made the well-worn idea new by layering the scene with details of the landscape, which he then masterfully conflated with his love.

“Train to Jackson” depicted the artist weary from travel and seeking advice from an elder: “I took a name, I found a range where my voice can make no sound. I met a man that told me son, ‘I can see you’re on the run, and if you tell me where you’re going, I’ll tell you where you’re bound.’” The notion of being “bound” for a location during a journey is one thing, but Foucault enriches the notion by suggesting how humans can be, in-fact, “bound” by travel.

Fan-favorite, “Everybody’s Famous,” marked the close of Foucault’s show. Electric and eclectic like a Califone tune, the song built dynamically with stuttering, palm-muted guitar and Foucault’s clement lyrics. At this point, a rudimentary understanding of Foucault’s true power set in; I realized I was connected to something larger, something real. There we all were, enraptured by Foucault’s music, growing more captivated each passing moment. In this whizzing, digital age, achieving such real connection is an invaluable gift.

Posted by | April 28, 2012 | Concerts | Comment 

Concert review: Dar Williams (with Caleb Travers) spins a few yarns at the Old Rock House, Tuesday, April 24

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There are a million tired clichés that can be used to describe singer-songwriters. Tuesday evening at the Old Rock House Dar Williams put on a performance that was neither tired nor clichéd.

The evening started with Caleb Travers sneaking on stage and easing into his first tune before I realized he was there. Travers is a St. Louis native guitar picker and singer-songwriter that mines tunes from the same vein of love, loss and traveling as artists like Fred Eaglesmith or John Denver. He was joined on stage by Ross Christopher, whose harmonies soared and violin added a tasteful touch to the songs instead of feeling tacked on.

A few songs into his set, Travers mentioned that it was good to play a short opening set for “people who give a shit.” I can’t speak for the rest of the crowd, but I’m pretty sure that part of it was his own energy coming back at him. It was apparent that Travers and Christopher have worked together for a while, as they were choosing what to play on the fly. Along with tunes from Travers’ most recent album they performed a cover of the Everly Brothers’ “Bye Bye Love” that would surely get the stamp of approval from Phil and Don themselves.

Dar Williams hit the stage just after 9 p.m. and put on a performance that was part folk song, part conversation and all entertaining. Williams spent just as much time talking to the crowd as she did playing her music, relaying stories of her past, encouraging us to plant gardens with our neighbors and reminding us of the small things that define particular moments of our own pasts. Her banter was very engaging and brought more meaning to the songs she performed, much like other singing storytellers John Hammond, Jr. and Mary Gauthier.

A large portion of the songs she played were from her new album “In the Time of Gods,” but despite their newness they were all familiar and comforting, like a favorite pair of slippers. Williams’ voice was robust and fantastic. She used those skills to her advantage, most notably on her tune “Summer Child,” in which she playfully wandered across the breadth of her vocal range without getting lost or misplaced. She ended the set with an encore performance of fan-requested “The Babysitter’s Here,” which brought more than one tear to the eyes of the audience.

I spent my drive home trying to think of someone to compare her to, and the only person I could think of was Dar Williams herself. She’s spent the last 20 years traveling the world telling her stories — and fortunately for us, she has managed not to lose herself or her love of what she does.

Posted by | April 25, 2012 | Concerts | 2 Comments 

Concert review and set list: Sara Watkins (with Sarah Siskind) finds the acoustic sweet spot at the Duck Room, Thursday, April 19

Louis Kwok

To embark on a solo career after being part of a successful group for a number of years is a daunting task. Nevertheless, Sara Watkins seems to be making a smooth transition.

With her former band, Nickel Creek, firmly on hiatus, Watkins has branched out and made several musical connections in supergroups like the Works Progress Administration and performed with the Decemberists on an extensive tour last year. Clearly, she’s having a good time playing and exposing herself to a wide variety of material.

An upbeat Watkins took to the stage at the Blueberry Hill Duck Room sang, played fiddle and guitar, and fully entertained the 125 or so people that came to the basement venue to hear her. Flanked by her older brother Sean on acoustic and electric guitar and Tyler Chester on bass, percussion and guitar, Watkins, wore a simple black dress and brown leather boots. She played a wide spectrum of originals and several cover songs over her 90 minute set. Her voice, light hearted, yet strong, cut through the mix clearly as she tackled the songs easily — a well-honed performer.

While she mixed in a couple of new songs from her forthcoming album due in May, she mostly stuck to material from her first self-titled solo album and other covers. After beginning with an instrumental called, “The Foothills,” the first cover of the set was from the Everly Brothers, “You’re the One I Love,” a song that Watkins recently recorded as a duet with Fiona Apple as a 7″ single for this weekend’s Record Store Day celebration.

Watkins alternated between original songs and covers throughout the rest of the set including three of the five that ended up on her first solo record. She interpreted songwriters that ran the gamut from folk, country, pop and rock. From the gospel of the Louvin Brothers, “River of Jordan,” to the ’60s pop of Michael Nesmith’s “Different Drum,” to the her gorgeous solo rendition of Tom Waits’ “Pony,” Watkins showed that she could be counted on to handle any genre she chooses.

During the John Hartford tune, “Long Hot Summer Day,” Watkins finally let loose a bit from the restrained fiddle she’d played most of the show and dug in and let it fly to have some fun. During the few years since her first album, she has made this song her own. She pandered to the crowd a bit and encouraged them to sing along to the chorus of the song about traveling down the Illinois River. To end the main set Watkins brought out one of the new songs, “Take Up Your Spade,” the last song on the new record. Here she was confident and proud, and it ended up to be one of the strongest performances of the set.

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Posted by | April 20, 2012 | Concerts | Comment 

Album review: Brothers Lazaroff continue their journey through Americana with ‘Science Won’

Brothers Lazaroff
“Science Won”
Self-released

Brothers Lazaroff are ever-evolving. From their Austin-inspired alt-country beginnings, they’ve added new layers of other forms of American music with each album. Their new release, “Science Won,” blends styles and genres to create something entirely new about the oldest theme in the world — family.

Album opener “Where Are You Going Now” hints at their rootsy strengths with acoustic strings, modernized with Grover Stewart’s brushed drums and minimalist jazz guitar riffs under brothers David and Jeff Lazaroff’s harmonized chorus. Combined with image-laden lyrics, the whole creates a multi-layered scene of modern domesticity that carries through the album.

Mo Egeston starts the darker “I See Her” with a fleeting moment of improvised jazz piano that morphs into Stewart’s steady percussion and Teddy Brookins’ subtle bass that roots the song. This piano-drum-bass foundation rolls through the entire album, topped with the Lazaroff’s more folk-flavored guitars, especially on “Picking Up Sticks.”

No single sound prevails. Instead, stitches of jazz, folk, country and rock create the fabric. It doesn’t make for a quick, throw-away listen. Much of the album’s appeal comes from discovering the layers. Listen one day, and the jazz influence stands out. The next day, it’s the poetic lyricism and strong visual imagery. Later, the rooted folkiness of the guitar arrangements comes through. It’s subjective to mood, setting and listener experience.

“Sometimes I feel so defined by what my ancestors said,” begins “Under the Tree,” continuing the theme of coming to terms with family, ancestry and generational expectation. “35 Summers” picks up the idea with its images of “some crazy old woman rambling on and on, talking about the kids, the ones that don’t belong.”

“Where Light Betrays Night” pairs sweet vocal harmonies with sparse instrumentation that twists into a funk riff, then straightens itself, twisting and turning to the end when it blends into “Keep it Dark”‘s catchiness that belies the lyrics.

The last quarter of the album is devoted to the more positive aspects of the theme, starting with wedding-ready love song “I Could Stay Here for the Rest of My Life,” to the tongue-in-cheek “It’s All Relative.” The climax of the album’s story, the song sums up what every family does: loves, fails, tries to do right, fights, succeeds, and keeps moving, all with no set pattern and rules.

“The Waltz of No Time” begins the album’s end. Taking a waltz meter with minimalist, modern instrumentation to set a scene of rooted timelessness that dips its toe into jazzy chaos before going silent.

The title track concludes the album with a return to the band’s folk roots. Sparkling acoustic strings shine over a quiet rhythm section, closing the album with, “She never would admit that science won.” What science? Not sure. Science of genetics, or human chemistry, perhaps. Science of evolution that fuels change and the marriage of species, be they mammal or musical.

“Under the Tree” – Brothers Lazaroff

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Posted by | April 19, 2012 | Album Reviews | Comment 

Concert review: William Fitzsimmons (with Denison Witmer) finds the sweet, quiet spot at the Firebird, Saturday, March 31

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Philadelphia’s Denison Witmer opened with a set of introspective tunes concerned with self-study and literary metaphors. After a few minutes of self-deprecation about his height, Witmer slipped into “Light on My Face” from 2012′s “The Ones Who Wait.” The track stood out as a meticulous ode to love and careful passion. Here, Witmer, with his slight nasal rasp, conjured the solo work of Get Up Kids lead singer Matthew Pryor.

The crowd stood stunned (especially those of us who had caught Katchafire a few nights earlier) as Witmer covered Bob Marley’s “Three Little Birds.” I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. The tune was stripped down and complicated by Witmer’s quiet tone and warm voice. Witmer closed with “Take More Than You Need.” The audience remained stone silent, in total reverie as the last notes of the final chord were plucked and rang into nothingness from Witmer’s guitar.

William Fitzsimmons took the Firebird stage with guitarist Jake Phillips and multi-instrumentalist/producer Josh Taylor. The trio opened with “The Tide Pulls From the Moon,” from 2011′s “Gold in the Shadow.” The song was subdued — no drums just serene strings. The trio was very near silent the whole set. It was hard to hear them sitting in the corner of the Firebird, back in one of their leathery booths, so I moved.

On “When You Were Young,” from 2005′s “Until We Are Ghosts,” Fitzsimmons slid his dark-warm voice over Phillips’ guitar. The tune swelled toward a dim chorus. The objects and emotional content Fitzsimmons stuffed into his songs turned sepia-toned in the air around the stage.

Taylor gently pulled digital delay and reverb from a Fender guitar as Fitzsimmons sang about graveyards and new beginnings on “Everything Has Changed.” To engage in a cliché: if you were there, you could have heard a pin drop, a beer bottle clatter, a cell phone ring, a cash register ding. If I would have spoken at a normal volume, my voice would have cut the silence hovering around Fitzsimmons’ hushed verses. The communal effect this created — everyone striving for silence to hear and respect the music — was fantastic. More than once I heard fans shushing other fans chattering too loudly.

A drum loop played over “They’ll Never Take the Good Years,” from 2009′s “The Sparrow and The Crow.” Fitzsimmons sang, “Until when we both are ghosts, I will miss you like a friend.” St. Louis has missed Fitzsimmons like a friend and a ghost. The song was played with dutiful harmonizing by Fitzsimmons’ live band. I could hear the audience singing too, all striving for that perfect sonic moment. Fitzsimmons reminded us, “Don’t be afraid to move on.”

Fitzsimmons told the audience, “Time to slow it down a bit.” Then kidded, “How is that even possible? That was the slowest song ever!” Fitzsimmons’ playful joking worked well to keep the audience engaged and the mood just light enough for his darker ballads.

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Posted by | April 1, 2012 | Concerts | Comment 

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