Kurt Lee Wheeler is a self-taught guitarist and songwriter out of Georgia who brings together all the sounds of the southeast into a familiar but unique sound palette with his music. Based on his bio, he’s a teacher by day with a past in the military and working cattle - a perfect resume for Americana if you asked me.
Wheeler’s new album On Our Way pulls together threads of rock, gospel, folk, and country to create a presentation that leans toward what I’d call ‘jam band style’ music. However, Wheeler’s focus is squarely on songwriting, not the endless experimentation and instrumental detours of that style of music …thus, I really enjoy it. (Yeah, not a fan of jam bands)
Let’s dig in a little.
“83, 53, 23” brings an Appalachian edge with ample use of fiddle and resonator. It’s a tale of family legacy, hard work, and hard times. It’s both uplifting and a heavy dose of reality at once. “Been working ten years and I’m 23” is a bracing line.
My favorite song on the album is probably its most commercial, “’Til Death is the End,” a wedding song for an outdoor ceremony in the Blue Ridge Mountains if I’ve ever heard one. It’s sweet and kinda sappy, but holds a dark edge throughout and the instrumentation is absolutely beautiful.
Yeah, that’s a Billy Idol cover at track 6. Wheeler’s take on “Rebel Yell” is reminiscent of the sparse, haunting covers you always hear in movie trailers these days. It’s cool, I don’t know how else to describe it. It gives some intriguing texture to the album.
I cannot tell a lie. While track 2, “Faces” is well played and performed, I’m just not into the repetitiveness that tends to be a staple of jam band oriented music. The refrain “Caught you runnin’/keep on runnin’” in this case, wore heavily on my nerves after a few listens. That’s not to say it’s a bad song; it just isn’t my cup of tea. In fact, a lot of these songs are lengthy, but that’s only a negative for me on this particular song.
On Our Way is an expertly played (I love the piano on this record), honest, well-written album and Kurt has a voice that immediately grabs you. Hard to believe music isn’t his primary career. Give this album a listen; there’s something for literally everyone in Farce’s readership.
Ask anyone in Austin who the best band in town right now is, and you’re likely to get the same answer each and every time: Black Pumas.
While there’s no disrespect to the plethora of bands who are amazing in Texas’ capital city, what Black Pumas are doing is taking the state, and the world by the throat and demanding that we all pay close attention to them. And you know what? Those red marks are ok.
Comprised of singer Eric Burton along with guitarist/producer Adrian Quesada, who also happens to be the man behind the Grammy-winning Grupo Fantasma, Brownout and the Black Sabbath worship act Brown Sabbath, the Black Pumas haven’t just dropped a new record that people can’t get enough of, the band is suddenly finding themselves in some strange, new places, too, namely at the top of plenty of tastemakers lists across the country.
On their ATO Records self-titled debut, The Black Pumas aren’t just that little band from Austin any longer, but instead are now labelmates with groups like the Alabama Shakes, Old 97’s, and Lucero.
The songs are dirty, funky and bluesy with a deep Texas groove that shares the same DNA with Gary Clark Jr, Leon Bridges, The Suffers, acts which cross barriers by not only race but sound, style, and pure fury.
While singer Eric Burton isn’t a Texan, he was a California beach bum playing for change on the boardwalks, but once he got to Austin, dove into the scene, he’d realized he’d found a home in Texas’ capital city. When he hooked up with Quesada, everything changed. And now, thanks to their partnership we’ve got the Black Pumas.
The record is lush, it’s old school. There’s some Marvin Gaye, Wilson Pickett, Al Green, Otis Redding, the soul of Black Pumas is on full display. If there’s any band you need to get on your radar, it’s these guys. There’s an unaffected cool about the songs, the vibe of the group, that despite their present-day existence, that they should be played on 45 in a jukebox in bars around the world.
“Colors,” “Black Moon Rising,” and “Fire” all are slinky, night time tunes for rooms with low light, they’re moody, brooding and precisely what you want to put on over a Jameson neat or a glass of Merlot. Whatever your poison, the Black Pumas are the next big band out of Austin since Gary Clark. Believe that.
Son Volt: Notes
of Blue review and Atlanta road dispatch
By Kevin Broughton
Don’t get down when
the Cavalry doesn’t ride; doesn’t mean that Hollywood didn’t get it right.
So begins what may be the most Son Volt album ever.
We spent some time in this space six
weeks ago mulling over an old Son Volt record, and how it should be judged
against the band’s body of work. In the process of that look back -- which
corresponded with the release of Notes of
Blue, its eighth studio album not counting compilations – a thought occurs
to the dedicated Son Volt fan. To wit: This
band will always be whatever Jay Farrar finds compelling at any given moment.
If he finds something interesting that needs a new voice or
interpretation, we’re gonna get a new Son Volt album. If it resonates with the folks, great.
If not, that’s okay too, because Jay’s gonna do his thing. Case in point, 2013’s Honky Tonk, Farrar’s sublimely faithful
send-up of the Bakersfield sound. Which itself was the first peep heard from
him since 2009.
As the simply self-evident title suggests, Farrar decided
he’d do a blues record. And he did, man, and put a stamp on it only he could. Notes of Blue, which Jay says is
influenced heavily by Mississippi Fred McDowell and Skip James, certainly isn’t
your conventional blues deal. It’s alternately rambling and driving, with the
customary stop-go tempo changes that date back to Uncle Tupelo thrown in. There’s
a cowboy ethos…as many Westerns as are coming out these days – remake and
original – Notes of Blue should be a
soundtrack to one of them.
And it’s a bunch of wonderfully different tunings (which
made for frequent equipment changes live, see below), 30 minutes efficiently
packed into 10 songs. There’s vitality, there’s brooding, and sheer badassery
on “Threads and Steel.” But as the opening cut, “Promise the World,” passes the
Bakersfield-to-blues baton between albums.
And it was often the pedal steel-playing of [some dude] that got the crowd’s
attention time again at Atlanta’s Terminal West on March 10. I’m sorry, but as
we acknowledged earlier,
“Son Volt” is Jay and whomever is behind him at the moment. The guy on
steel was exceptional, and played keyboards really well, too. [That one guy] on bass sang competent
harmonies. The band was tight. Oh, wait.
Opening act? Yeah, there was one at the sold-out (625,
standing) venue.
Let me tell you about him for just a second. The advertised
bill was SON VOLT WITH JOHNNY IRION. So I Googled the guy.
-------
Oh, good. The Google hit reveals some
hippie-communist-douchebag who decided to prove his bona fides by doing an anti-Trump song.
Wow, guy. You must be
legit! And courageous. It takes a lot of balls to write songs hating on a
Republican. Is it lonely out there on that bastion? You know, I didn’t vote for
president last year, my first time ever taking a pass at the top of the ticket.
But, dude. Since you’re a musician,
I’m starting to come around to your way of thinking. Tell me more.
Wait, what? Your wife
is Woody Guthrie’s commie granddaughter? And y’all did a trio – no kidding –
with Pete Seeger’s Bolshevik great grandson or some such?
Oh, wow, Johnny. You’ve
swayed me. I’m a Democrat now. I demand that boys be allowed in girls’
bathrooms. Immediately, and anyone who objects is a bigot.
Good job, Johnny. I just
wish I’d been born in time to march with an NVA flag and spit on Vietnam vets
in airports.
-------
Sorry. Yeah, let’s keep politics out of music. He did some
songs. I didn’t listen.
The show was great. Farrar – did his hair seem unnaturally
dark, and did that question seem catty – led the band
onstage and quickly into “Cherokee Street,” emphasizing the Cowboys-and-Indians
vibe of the record. They played all but one of the cuts off the new album, and
oddly, not a single one from the last. The balance of the 20-plus song set was
a healthy sampler of Son Volt’s best work.
Trace,
appropriately, was well represented, with “Tear Stained Eye,” “Catching On,”
“10 Second News,” “Route,” “Drown,” and “Windfall” making the list. The
highlight for a lot of folks was an encore that featured three Uncle Tupelo
Cuts. I’d never heard the lovely “Still Be Around” live before, and it was
awesome.
Trailer tells me Farrar’s on Twitter these
days. That’s neat. He was more interactive March 10 than I’ve ever seen
him. He said lots of words.
“How’s everybody doing tonight? You guys okay?”
“Hey, thanks a lot.”
“Thanks. I’d like to introduce the members of the band.
[Proceeds to do so.]”
He’s never been that chatty. And he changed guitar about
every 1.7 songs. Freaky tunings.
Know what he didn’t say? Anything about politics.
Yay.
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Notes of Blue is available everywhere you can purchase music, except Walmart probably.
“Good morning. My name’s Kasey Anderson,” says the erstwhile Federal prison inmate, one tune (“Transcendental Blues”) into an early evening gig. “For some of you these will be old and new songs, and for others they’ll be all new songs.” Displaying just a smidgen of the wit he was so known for before he went away, he adds, “That was a Steve Earle song, but the rest are all mine…I don’t know, I haven’t looked at the set list, but this one is for sure mine.”
Anderson’s at the Standing Sun Winery in Buellton, Calif., his first announced show since getting out of the joint. “I had quietly played one before,” he says, “at a tavern in Portland.” The result of this one, though, is Sideways, ten cuts covering 45 minutes, and named for the Paul Giamatti film of the same name shot at Standing Sun. The Steve Earle cover does justice to the original and happily – audibly at least – lacks the smug superiority on display with every word spoken by the writer these days. And it turns out there actually is one more cover, a great take on You Am I’s “Heavy Heart.”
The most poignant cut is “Sirens and Thunder,” from the Kasey Anderson and The Honkies’ Heart of a Dog album. He couldn’t have known at the time how prophetic one line he penned was, but probably grasps the irony, post-prison: “It’s been a hard winter for the rank and hopeless sinner.”
“I Was a Photograph” is also a keeper, and a fine – and importantly, apolitical – look at returning vets with PTSD.
If this is the beginning of Anderson’s musical comeback, it’s a solid first step, and worth every bit and more of the $10 you can pick it up for at his store.
Kevin Broughton is a teacher, writer and former attorney living in Georgia. He tries not to get too snippy when other folks use his material as a template.
