WFUV Presents
Brandi Carlile
Blitzen Trapper
Sun, October 28, 2012
Doors: 7:00 pm / Show: 8:00 pm
Beacon Theatre
New York, NY
$40
Rescheduled
This event is all ages
This show has been rescheduled for Friday, March 22. All tickets for the 10/28 show will be honored.
http://www.bowerypresents.com/event/148117/
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Brandi Carlile
Were we ever gonna get out of this town?
- Just Kids - BEAR CREEK
“If you start a band with me, I’ll get us signed and on the road within a year”…… Not only did the determined, confident and tenacious 22-year-old Brandi Carlile come through with her promise to twin bothers and initially reluctant band members Phil and Tim Hanseroth, but she also exceeded their expectations. Carlile landed the prophesied record deal with Columbia Records one year later and with the guidance of producer Rick Rubin, they recorded and released their eponymous debut album in early 2005. “The Twins were local heroes to me, I used to go and watch them play live when they were in The Fighting Machinists, I thought they were cool but more importantly great singers and songwriters.” Carlile, in a vain attempt to impress her newfound comrades, ordered in some dry ice to lure them to their first band rehearsal. “I didn’t know how dangerous overexposure to carbon dioxide could be, so I ended up nearly killing us all from asphyxiation!” Near-death experiences aside, this was the beginning of a unique collaboration. It was a partnership that would see Brandi Carlile and Tim and Phil Hanseroth sharing everything from the stage, songwriting and production credits and all creative business decisions, to bunk beds, road pranks, swine flu, confined spaces and dirty t-shirts too.
On the eve of Carlile’s 5th major label album release BEAR CREEK and after almost a decade of extensive touring, the trio and self-confessed “road dogs” and “dirty pioneers” are back with a bang. But it’s not record sales, industry accolades or commercial success that make Brandi Carlile a uniquely compelling artist; in fact some would say she has purposely gone out of her way to avoid it, “I would never write commercially or dress commercially or behave in any way that would inspire mainstream success". It’s tales from the road, where she and the twins have spent the best part of their careers building Carlile’s fan base and audience, whilst remaining under the industry radar, that tells you the story of who she really is.
Unaware of years to come
- Save Part Of Yourself – BEAR CREEK
“I've been singing and performing music since I was seven, so I don't ever remember making a conscious decision to be a musician. I would’ve had to have made a conscious decision NOT to be a musician” Throughout her late teens Carlile had already built up a local fan base in her home city of Seattle through hard work, determination and an unwavering belief in her talent. Blessed with a truly remarkable voice and an innate gift for performing, she always believed she was destined to be a great singer. She would hone her skills by studying and listening to her favorite vocalists, experimenting and testing the boundaries of her voice to see how long she could hold out a note, and how loud and high she could sing. “I wanted to learn to scream my head off like Thom Yorke and yodel like Patsy Cline”. Carlile busked, played coffee houses and persuaded local business owners to give her residencies by guaranteeing the venues would reach their full capacity on the nights she appeared. Carlile recalls how she would personally ensure her fans attended her gigs. “I passed around mailing lists to my audiences and I would take their numbers and call them myself on the day of my next gig to make sure they would turn up.” And turn up they did and still do, except now they number in the thousands.
Over the last eight years Carlile has enjoyed groundbreaking success, headlining and selling out major shows and venues across the United States and the rest of the world. Working her way up from playing acoustic at Medin's Ravioli Station and busking at Pikes Place Market, to fronting her six-piece band at The Ryman Auditorium and leading a symphony at Benaroya Hall; Carlile has earned her reputation as a fearless and consummate performer who is undoubtedly in a class of her own.
Collaborators at heart, Carlile and The Twins have written, produced, recorded and shared the stage and with “anyone we can get to sing with us”, touring with friends Ray Lamontage, The Avett Brothers and Dave Matthews, who refers to Carlile affectionately as “a big fat trumpet head”. Sheryl Crow, somewhat more eloquently, describes Carlile’s voice as “the most amazing voice I may have ever heard. Soulful. Country. Perfect in every way.... and propelled by taste.” And it is that same, unmistakable voice that jumps out and shakes your very foundations when you first hear the opening track on BEAR CREEK.
I can be the engine, you can be the wheel
- Hard Way Home – BEAR CREEK
BEAR CREEK, named after the studio where it was recorded, is certainly a departure from 2007’s break-though THE STORY and its critically acclaimed follow-up, 2009’s GIVE UP THE GHOST. Having been steered on her previous albums by super-producers T Bone Burnett and Rick Rubin, this time Carlile was determined to take the wheel. “I would liken working with A-list producers to going to college,” she says. “You don’t want to be a perpetual student. At some point, you need to apply your knowledge”. For the first time, Carlile was eager to work in a studio environment closer – both physically and in spirit – to her own rural abode. Bear Creek, a converted turn-of-the-century barn nestled among the tall trees of Woodinville, Washington, proved to be ideal. “Bear Creek is very similar to home for all three of us - musically, you’d be amazed at how you act when you feel at home”
Embracing her own philosophy that “a live show should never sound like a record; a record should sound like a live show,” Carlile and the Twins brought in members of her “road family”, including cellist Josh Neumann and drummer Allison Miller, as well as her touring sound engineer and guitar tech, “We basically pulled our bus up to Bear Creek and then everyone got off of it and made a record, band, crew, cheap tour beer and everything…we wanted it that way for once.” Carlile also realized a long-held ambition to work with Grammy award-winning engineer and producer Trina Shoemaker, who fully embraced and nurtured the band’s live approach in the studio and “rough-around-the-edges sonic appeal”. They veered off into new musical territory, fusing classic rock ‘n’ roll, folk, bluegrass, and “Shoemaker-inspired soul” to create their own distinctive sound. Carlile and her band took full advantage of the vintage equipment at Bear Creek dusting off “pianos that smell like Grandma’s house” and experimenting with bluegrass instruments “feeling no self-consciousness about the fact that we didn't know how to play them…. without a producer it was like ‘OK, now what are we gonna do while Dad’s gone?’”
It came upon a lightning strike
- Raise Hell – BEAR CREEK
Comprising of songs inspired by faith, heartache, addiction, childhood, accidental piano chords and thunderstorms, BEAR CREEK promises to be Carlile’s most revealing and personal record to date “It scares me how much of who we are is in this album.” However, she admits “I can talk about making records all day long,” “but what really drives me is what I’ve been doing on the road all this time. When we play these songs for you, what’s going to happen between you and us? That’s what matters most to me.” True to form, Carlile and is now eager to introduce BEAR CREEK to her audience. Summer 2012 will see her biggest headlining tour to date, with stops at world famous venues such as Red Rocks Amphitheater and Wolf Trap.
BEAR CREEK stands as a major milestone for Carlile; the moment in which she and The Twins embraced simplicity, familiar faces and trusted musicianship to craft a stripped-back, honest and timeless record; perhaps her bravest work to date “because without anyone to hide behind or acclaimed cameos and guest appearances, it’s just us..... terrifying but real life." In fact, the only guest appearance comes from a chorus of frogs (courtesy of Bear Creek) who appear on the closing track of her most definitive album thus far – and listen all the way to the end?..... You most definitely will.
Do I make myself a blessing to everyone I meet?
- That Wasn’t Me – BEAR CREEK
Firm believers that artists in the public eye have a social and moral responsibility to promote and marry humanitarian efforts with their musical agenda, Carlile and The Twins have used their success on the road to fund The Looking Out Foundation. Founded in 2008, the foundation serves the chronically underserved through its ongoing philanthropic efforts and involvement with social issues. Brandi Carlile and her fans donate $1 from every concert ticket sold to The Looking Out Foundation, channeling hundreds of thousands of dollars and resources to organizations that support the arts, women, public health, the hungry and the homeless. Carlile is particularly proud of co-founding The Fight The Fear Campaign, a community-oriented violence prevention initiative. “It really isn't about fighting other people, it's about respecting the fact that you yourself are worth fighting for.” In true trailblazer style, she and the Twins hope to expand their outreach through music, and make a positive impact on the world for many years to come.
- Just Kids - BEAR CREEK
“If you start a band with me, I’ll get us signed and on the road within a year”…… Not only did the determined, confident and tenacious 22-year-old Brandi Carlile come through with her promise to twin bothers and initially reluctant band members Phil and Tim Hanseroth, but she also exceeded their expectations. Carlile landed the prophesied record deal with Columbia Records one year later and with the guidance of producer Rick Rubin, they recorded and released their eponymous debut album in early 2005. “The Twins were local heroes to me, I used to go and watch them play live when they were in The Fighting Machinists, I thought they were cool but more importantly great singers and songwriters.” Carlile, in a vain attempt to impress her newfound comrades, ordered in some dry ice to lure them to their first band rehearsal. “I didn’t know how dangerous overexposure to carbon dioxide could be, so I ended up nearly killing us all from asphyxiation!” Near-death experiences aside, this was the beginning of a unique collaboration. It was a partnership that would see Brandi Carlile and Tim and Phil Hanseroth sharing everything from the stage, songwriting and production credits and all creative business decisions, to bunk beds, road pranks, swine flu, confined spaces and dirty t-shirts too.
On the eve of Carlile’s 5th major label album release BEAR CREEK and after almost a decade of extensive touring, the trio and self-confessed “road dogs” and “dirty pioneers” are back with a bang. But it’s not record sales, industry accolades or commercial success that make Brandi Carlile a uniquely compelling artist; in fact some would say she has purposely gone out of her way to avoid it, “I would never write commercially or dress commercially or behave in any way that would inspire mainstream success". It’s tales from the road, where she and the twins have spent the best part of their careers building Carlile’s fan base and audience, whilst remaining under the industry radar, that tells you the story of who she really is.
Unaware of years to come
- Save Part Of Yourself – BEAR CREEK
“I've been singing and performing music since I was seven, so I don't ever remember making a conscious decision to be a musician. I would’ve had to have made a conscious decision NOT to be a musician” Throughout her late teens Carlile had already built up a local fan base in her home city of Seattle through hard work, determination and an unwavering belief in her talent. Blessed with a truly remarkable voice and an innate gift for performing, she always believed she was destined to be a great singer. She would hone her skills by studying and listening to her favorite vocalists, experimenting and testing the boundaries of her voice to see how long she could hold out a note, and how loud and high she could sing. “I wanted to learn to scream my head off like Thom Yorke and yodel like Patsy Cline”. Carlile busked, played coffee houses and persuaded local business owners to give her residencies by guaranteeing the venues would reach their full capacity on the nights she appeared. Carlile recalls how she would personally ensure her fans attended her gigs. “I passed around mailing lists to my audiences and I would take their numbers and call them myself on the day of my next gig to make sure they would turn up.” And turn up they did and still do, except now they number in the thousands.
Over the last eight years Carlile has enjoyed groundbreaking success, headlining and selling out major shows and venues across the United States and the rest of the world. Working her way up from playing acoustic at Medin's Ravioli Station and busking at Pikes Place Market, to fronting her six-piece band at The Ryman Auditorium and leading a symphony at Benaroya Hall; Carlile has earned her reputation as a fearless and consummate performer who is undoubtedly in a class of her own.
Collaborators at heart, Carlile and The Twins have written, produced, recorded and shared the stage and with “anyone we can get to sing with us”, touring with friends Ray Lamontage, The Avett Brothers and Dave Matthews, who refers to Carlile affectionately as “a big fat trumpet head”. Sheryl Crow, somewhat more eloquently, describes Carlile’s voice as “the most amazing voice I may have ever heard. Soulful. Country. Perfect in every way.... and propelled by taste.” And it is that same, unmistakable voice that jumps out and shakes your very foundations when you first hear the opening track on BEAR CREEK.
I can be the engine, you can be the wheel
- Hard Way Home – BEAR CREEK
BEAR CREEK, named after the studio where it was recorded, is certainly a departure from 2007’s break-though THE STORY and its critically acclaimed follow-up, 2009’s GIVE UP THE GHOST. Having been steered on her previous albums by super-producers T Bone Burnett and Rick Rubin, this time Carlile was determined to take the wheel. “I would liken working with A-list producers to going to college,” she says. “You don’t want to be a perpetual student. At some point, you need to apply your knowledge”. For the first time, Carlile was eager to work in a studio environment closer – both physically and in spirit – to her own rural abode. Bear Creek, a converted turn-of-the-century barn nestled among the tall trees of Woodinville, Washington, proved to be ideal. “Bear Creek is very similar to home for all three of us - musically, you’d be amazed at how you act when you feel at home”
Embracing her own philosophy that “a live show should never sound like a record; a record should sound like a live show,” Carlile and the Twins brought in members of her “road family”, including cellist Josh Neumann and drummer Allison Miller, as well as her touring sound engineer and guitar tech, “We basically pulled our bus up to Bear Creek and then everyone got off of it and made a record, band, crew, cheap tour beer and everything…we wanted it that way for once.” Carlile also realized a long-held ambition to work with Grammy award-winning engineer and producer Trina Shoemaker, who fully embraced and nurtured the band’s live approach in the studio and “rough-around-the-edges sonic appeal”. They veered off into new musical territory, fusing classic rock ‘n’ roll, folk, bluegrass, and “Shoemaker-inspired soul” to create their own distinctive sound. Carlile and her band took full advantage of the vintage equipment at Bear Creek dusting off “pianos that smell like Grandma’s house” and experimenting with bluegrass instruments “feeling no self-consciousness about the fact that we didn't know how to play them…. without a producer it was like ‘OK, now what are we gonna do while Dad’s gone?’”
It came upon a lightning strike
- Raise Hell – BEAR CREEK
Comprising of songs inspired by faith, heartache, addiction, childhood, accidental piano chords and thunderstorms, BEAR CREEK promises to be Carlile’s most revealing and personal record to date “It scares me how much of who we are is in this album.” However, she admits “I can talk about making records all day long,” “but what really drives me is what I’ve been doing on the road all this time. When we play these songs for you, what’s going to happen between you and us? That’s what matters most to me.” True to form, Carlile and is now eager to introduce BEAR CREEK to her audience. Summer 2012 will see her biggest headlining tour to date, with stops at world famous venues such as Red Rocks Amphitheater and Wolf Trap.
BEAR CREEK stands as a major milestone for Carlile; the moment in which she and The Twins embraced simplicity, familiar faces and trusted musicianship to craft a stripped-back, honest and timeless record; perhaps her bravest work to date “because without anyone to hide behind or acclaimed cameos and guest appearances, it’s just us..... terrifying but real life." In fact, the only guest appearance comes from a chorus of frogs (courtesy of Bear Creek) who appear on the closing track of her most definitive album thus far – and listen all the way to the end?..... You most definitely will.
Do I make myself a blessing to everyone I meet?
- That Wasn’t Me – BEAR CREEK
Firm believers that artists in the public eye have a social and moral responsibility to promote and marry humanitarian efforts with their musical agenda, Carlile and The Twins have used their success on the road to fund The Looking Out Foundation. Founded in 2008, the foundation serves the chronically underserved through its ongoing philanthropic efforts and involvement with social issues. Brandi Carlile and her fans donate $1 from every concert ticket sold to The Looking Out Foundation, channeling hundreds of thousands of dollars and resources to organizations that support the arts, women, public health, the hungry and the homeless. Carlile is particularly proud of co-founding The Fight The Fear Campaign, a community-oriented violence prevention initiative. “It really isn't about fighting other people, it's about respecting the fact that you yourself are worth fighting for.” In true trailblazer style, she and the Twins hope to expand their outreach through music, and make a positive impact on the world for many years to come.
Blitzen Trapper
When I was twenty-three I had a waking vision of a creature trying to get inside my apartment. At the time I couldn't tell if it was malevolent or bent on my destruction since it would not speak but only scrabbled at the windows and beat on the walls. Whatever it was, it had wings and was terrifying. All night I piled furniture in front of the door to keep it from getting in, which seemed to work. I should mention that I also had a fever and was taking exotic narcotics to deal with it. The upshot of this episode was that I dropped out of school and began to write songs, to play music. This was not music that ever traveled, at least not for many years (my lower-class, small town upbringing ensured I had absolutely no ambition), but it was music that permeated everything. My friends and I lived together, made recordings, played occasional shows and mostly just worked out our demons through narcotic substance and song.
My theory now is that the creature at the door was not evil, but rather a silent angel whose presence forced me to jump the rails. It would be many years of playing and drinking before I would once again jump the rails at the request of my deceased father, become homeless and record Wild Mountain Nation in the old telegraph building. This was a similar change, one which made me travel, pushed Blitzen Trapper out onto the road. In 2007 our reluctant success came in the form of "Best New Music" recognition from Pitchfork for Wild Mountain Nation, a record that sounded like it had been authored by a drunken scarecrow who had been dragged behind a truck. This wasn't far from the truth. At times I still miss sleeping by the river, cooking my meals on a hot plate, hiding knives around the old telegraph building so if I came in too late I'd have options if I got jumped. Old crack whores and dealers nodded off in the alcoves and alleys around the street. Cops would stop me at three in the morning to ask me what I was doing, "Oh, nothing officer, just looking for a quarter so I can make a call." "Well if you break that payphone I'll have to arrest you."
Our first tour was with The Hold Steady, a three-week jaunt that saw us playing for a lot of people who just didn't give a shit that we were there: typical and very informative. We camped our way back home, making hardly any money, but the record was selling and we kept going. We toured Europe and more of the States, played big festivals, Sasquatch! and others.
Furr came next, our first Sub Pop release, which I also made at the old telegraph building. We were touring so much that being homeless was really quite relaxing compared to the road. But Furr was a record that spoke from new perspectives we'd gained on the road. It was me becoming aware of the past I'd been trying to forget, and of the greater world around me. It's no surprise that the opening track is a dream-like treatise on the state of the western world. With this record we played TV for the first time, on the old Conan late night show and we started touring with heroes from my younger days: Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks, Iron and Wine, a small tour with Wilco. Numerous Blitzen Trapper songs appeared in television shows and commercials and movies, we played more of the big festivals, Coachella, Monolith, Pitchfork. All of this stuff can, should and in this case did go along with making a timely, honest record. And, on top of that, I was no longer homeless. It was at this time that I began to see that people were inspired by my songs, obsessive in many cases. The record kept selling and selling, and is still selling even today. And so we took a break from touring, from everything.
I had already cobbled together a new record during the previous year of touring, Destroyer of the Void, a patchwork of songs from my past and present which hung together like a house of cards. But there were certain glimmers of where Blitzen Trapper was heading, a certain feeling of open road and of heartfelt loss. Having turned this in, we spent half of 2010 doing nothing, hanging around Portland, revisiting our earlier, less ambitious days of drinking and getting into trouble.
And then a certain tragedy struck me, a death of which I can't speak, and I began writing. I wrote American Goldwing, our third Sub Pop release, in a span of six months, recorded most of it, and then we went on tour for Destroyer of the Void. We did more TV, including the Jimmy Fallon show, and we played for the biggest crowds we'd ever performed for at festivals through the summer (Lollapalooza, Newport Folk Festival, etc.), all the time knowing that this new record I'd recorded was the real record, the Blitzen Trapper record to come.
When I was six years old, my brother-in-law kept his Honda Goldwing out in back of my dad's house. It sat by the oak tree in the tall grass, a monster of a touring bike. I used to eye it with much curiosity at that age. One day I climbed up on it, my short legs dangling down the sides. I made noises like I was racing along some lonely road, my hands on the throttle and clutch. Suddenly the bike tipped and fell, pinning my leg beneath its weight. I laid there for a time, crying, feeling trapped, until my mother came and yelled at me and then pulled me out.
Writing American Goldwing felt much like that, like being pinned beneath a giant motorcycle, and its vision is that inescapable past, those feelings of being trapped in a small town, that fine line between the rural and the suburban settings that define much of America, that line between love and loss that occurs when you find yourself "taking it easy too long / sticking around this lonesome town." It's me trying to hazard a true American nostalgia. And like that kid the bike fell on, there's a good amount of thrashing about, trying to get loose. The roughness of rock and roll, and the independence of travel act as the flip-side to all this sentimental backward-glancing, the earthiness of these songs make you want to get loaded and get in a fight, or find a girl and fall in love forever, simultaneously. The subjects range from drug-running good old boys in the hills, to that final high school dance, to pondering that moment when the one you love walks away and you can't help but love her anyway.
It's us letting our loves, our early influences hang out for all to see. Entering into the sounds we grew up with, the hard guitar rock and country picking of our younger years mixes with glimmers of our usual space-aging technology and pawn shop Casio aplomb. Heavy guitar riffs and blasting drum fills live side-by-side with plucking banjos and wailing harmonicas, and muddy slide guitars that make you want to shotgun a beer in the shower while listening to the Stones or Joe Walsh. It's also our first foray into direct, outside influence in the creation of a record. It's me letting go in a certain way. I let Tchad Blake come in to mix this album, and my good friend Gregg Williams co-produced all these tracks.
When I say "does a true heart change / or does it stay the same / think I'll go on back to from where I came" it's a question I'm asking myself. Does the long road I've been on warrant more songs, can I still fight those demons and come out with a handful of honesty? It's a summing-up of the longing and nostalgia of this record. But it's really just a starting point. In the end it's a record that jumps the rails, and travels, as I admit, "I left my home and all my money / to wrestling with the wind / on an old Goldwing gonna cross the ocean / 'cause I heard that it's a heck of a swim." That's me, wrestling with that silent angel at the door, reflecting all of that deep-seated American urge to travel. When I sing, in the title track, "I know / I know / I'll be staying if the wind don't blow," I'm seeking to invoke the unseen, the spirit that beckons you to saddle up that old 1980 Honda Goldwing, or your uncle's beat up Ford Bronco, or that Jeep you somehow, and only barely, keep running and leave this lonely town behind, "cause that wind's always blowing. I'm calling you to ride, to take those curves at speed and head for someplace better where love is true, whether that be into the depths of the galaxy or just to the next truck stop where the neon shines, and where the "company of strangers / and the close and the present dangers" are all that really matters.
E. Earley
My theory now is that the creature at the door was not evil, but rather a silent angel whose presence forced me to jump the rails. It would be many years of playing and drinking before I would once again jump the rails at the request of my deceased father, become homeless and record Wild Mountain Nation in the old telegraph building. This was a similar change, one which made me travel, pushed Blitzen Trapper out onto the road. In 2007 our reluctant success came in the form of "Best New Music" recognition from Pitchfork for Wild Mountain Nation, a record that sounded like it had been authored by a drunken scarecrow who had been dragged behind a truck. This wasn't far from the truth. At times I still miss sleeping by the river, cooking my meals on a hot plate, hiding knives around the old telegraph building so if I came in too late I'd have options if I got jumped. Old crack whores and dealers nodded off in the alcoves and alleys around the street. Cops would stop me at three in the morning to ask me what I was doing, "Oh, nothing officer, just looking for a quarter so I can make a call." "Well if you break that payphone I'll have to arrest you."
Our first tour was with The Hold Steady, a three-week jaunt that saw us playing for a lot of people who just didn't give a shit that we were there: typical and very informative. We camped our way back home, making hardly any money, but the record was selling and we kept going. We toured Europe and more of the States, played big festivals, Sasquatch! and others.
Furr came next, our first Sub Pop release, which I also made at the old telegraph building. We were touring so much that being homeless was really quite relaxing compared to the road. But Furr was a record that spoke from new perspectives we'd gained on the road. It was me becoming aware of the past I'd been trying to forget, and of the greater world around me. It's no surprise that the opening track is a dream-like treatise on the state of the western world. With this record we played TV for the first time, on the old Conan late night show and we started touring with heroes from my younger days: Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks, Iron and Wine, a small tour with Wilco. Numerous Blitzen Trapper songs appeared in television shows and commercials and movies, we played more of the big festivals, Coachella, Monolith, Pitchfork. All of this stuff can, should and in this case did go along with making a timely, honest record. And, on top of that, I was no longer homeless. It was at this time that I began to see that people were inspired by my songs, obsessive in many cases. The record kept selling and selling, and is still selling even today. And so we took a break from touring, from everything.
I had already cobbled together a new record during the previous year of touring, Destroyer of the Void, a patchwork of songs from my past and present which hung together like a house of cards. But there were certain glimmers of where Blitzen Trapper was heading, a certain feeling of open road and of heartfelt loss. Having turned this in, we spent half of 2010 doing nothing, hanging around Portland, revisiting our earlier, less ambitious days of drinking and getting into trouble.
And then a certain tragedy struck me, a death of which I can't speak, and I began writing. I wrote American Goldwing, our third Sub Pop release, in a span of six months, recorded most of it, and then we went on tour for Destroyer of the Void. We did more TV, including the Jimmy Fallon show, and we played for the biggest crowds we'd ever performed for at festivals through the summer (Lollapalooza, Newport Folk Festival, etc.), all the time knowing that this new record I'd recorded was the real record, the Blitzen Trapper record to come.
When I was six years old, my brother-in-law kept his Honda Goldwing out in back of my dad's house. It sat by the oak tree in the tall grass, a monster of a touring bike. I used to eye it with much curiosity at that age. One day I climbed up on it, my short legs dangling down the sides. I made noises like I was racing along some lonely road, my hands on the throttle and clutch. Suddenly the bike tipped and fell, pinning my leg beneath its weight. I laid there for a time, crying, feeling trapped, until my mother came and yelled at me and then pulled me out.
Writing American Goldwing felt much like that, like being pinned beneath a giant motorcycle, and its vision is that inescapable past, those feelings of being trapped in a small town, that fine line between the rural and the suburban settings that define much of America, that line between love and loss that occurs when you find yourself "taking it easy too long / sticking around this lonesome town." It's me trying to hazard a true American nostalgia. And like that kid the bike fell on, there's a good amount of thrashing about, trying to get loose. The roughness of rock and roll, and the independence of travel act as the flip-side to all this sentimental backward-glancing, the earthiness of these songs make you want to get loaded and get in a fight, or find a girl and fall in love forever, simultaneously. The subjects range from drug-running good old boys in the hills, to that final high school dance, to pondering that moment when the one you love walks away and you can't help but love her anyway.
It's us letting our loves, our early influences hang out for all to see. Entering into the sounds we grew up with, the hard guitar rock and country picking of our younger years mixes with glimmers of our usual space-aging technology and pawn shop Casio aplomb. Heavy guitar riffs and blasting drum fills live side-by-side with plucking banjos and wailing harmonicas, and muddy slide guitars that make you want to shotgun a beer in the shower while listening to the Stones or Joe Walsh. It's also our first foray into direct, outside influence in the creation of a record. It's me letting go in a certain way. I let Tchad Blake come in to mix this album, and my good friend Gregg Williams co-produced all these tracks.
When I say "does a true heart change / or does it stay the same / think I'll go on back to from where I came" it's a question I'm asking myself. Does the long road I've been on warrant more songs, can I still fight those demons and come out with a handful of honesty? It's a summing-up of the longing and nostalgia of this record. But it's really just a starting point. In the end it's a record that jumps the rails, and travels, as I admit, "I left my home and all my money / to wrestling with the wind / on an old Goldwing gonna cross the ocean / 'cause I heard that it's a heck of a swim." That's me, wrestling with that silent angel at the door, reflecting all of that deep-seated American urge to travel. When I sing, in the title track, "I know / I know / I'll be staying if the wind don't blow," I'm seeking to invoke the unseen, the spirit that beckons you to saddle up that old 1980 Honda Goldwing, or your uncle's beat up Ford Bronco, or that Jeep you somehow, and only barely, keep running and leave this lonely town behind, "cause that wind's always blowing. I'm calling you to ride, to take those curves at speed and head for someplace better where love is true, whether that be into the depths of the galaxy or just to the next truck stop where the neon shines, and where the "company of strangers / and the close and the present dangers" are all that really matters.
E. Earley
Venue Information:
Beacon Theatre
2124 Broadway
New York, NY, 10023
http://www.beacontheatre.com/faq/index.html
Beacon Theatre
2124 Broadway
New York, NY, 10023
http://www.beacontheatre.com/faq/index.html
