Bobbie Gentry shows us the importance of leaving a little somethign to the imagination...

I heard Ode to Billy Joe on the radio the other day and have not been able to get it out of my head.

This song really hits home for me in a way I have never been able to fully understand or explain- a feeling strengthened by the video with its emphasis on the nuclear family and the detachment created by living the 'modern' family life (not to mention its references to the work of one of my favourite sculptors, George Segal). Its the same way In which I strongly identify with The Man in The Grey Flannel Suit or The Great Gatsby. Maybe its having grown up in the suburbs, the child of two parents who also grew up in the suburbs. But then again, I've never really felt that I had a suburban upbringing, there was no meat-veggies-and-two-types-of-potatoes, no long summers spent wasting away in the backyard or making small talk with the nosy neighbors (though I have owned a series of ramshackle cars since the moment I could drive, and have a certain affinity for bicycling down the middle of the road). I'm not quite sure why it feels like a life I connect with, but connect with it I do.

There's something about how the story is told, something about the mix of hope and despair, matter of fact straight talk and fuzzy suggestion. Its a thing I've talked about before- the storytelling style of country music- something I feel myself drawn to time and time again, both inside and outside of the traditional country paradigm. There is something about it that approximates real life in a way that pop music doesn't- a way that addresses the honesty of life. That it is not all ups or all downs, not all an endless party or endless trial, not all of any one thing really, not any one thing at all. Its something found in the music of Jack White, Elliott Brood, Cuff the Duke, and most bands that count old school country as one of their references. Even bands marginally influenced by Johnny Cash or Bob Dylan, bands like Sam Roberts or The Decemberists, bring that sort of rounded story telling to their songs.


Perhaps ironically then it is the habit of not-painting-the-full-picture that most closely ties together the styles of these artists. The ability to give the pertinent details while leaving the rest up to the imagination. I heard they tried to make a movie out of An Ode To Billy Joe and it failed miserably, unexpectedly because the song is so full of opportunity, such an intriguing story full of complex mystery. Problem is when you take away the questions, the part left up to the imagination, you take away the magic. Too often we forget the importance of what we ourselves bring to the experience of artwork, of songs and paintings and novels. We bring ourselves. And what could be more important?

The Best Drum Kit in All The Land

So a few weeks ago I kinda really ripped into the band One Hundred Dollars for being one of the most ineffective opening acts I had ever seen (aka super creepy, played for too long, would have been better on CD, etc...). To be honest (and I'm not sure if i said this at the time) but it kind of ruined the rest of the show for me. Alright, not strictly speaking, as it is practically impossible for anything to ruin Elliott Brood, but it was definitely the least fun I had ever had at an EB show... Now normally that would mean I would really try to never see said offending band again, but 'twas not to be so. Elliott Brood played in Montreal last night, and I could not resist, despite the opening act.

I was tempted to skip them (the opener, not the whole show) but I had hyped their creepyness so much to my sister and her friend that it would have just been mean to deprive them of their own experience... Then I realised that it was actually a win win situation- if they were horrible again I was not only prepared, but would enjoy seeing everyone else's reaction, and if they were great (or even just good!) I would be pleasantly surprised. The only way they could possibly disappoint me would be by being slightly better than barely passable. So I guess technically more of a win-win-lose situation (66/33 odds are better than 50/50...) So we went for the whole show. Good decision.


One Hundred Dollars
To be fair, it would have been pretty difficult for them to get much worse, but One Hundred Dollars' performance was vastly superior to the last time I saw them. There were no scary eyes and pointing,  no glares full of loathing, no horrible tension and sense of impending doom... I mean don't get me wrong, the lead singer still had her super creepy moments, but they were few and far between, and actually seemed to fit with the songs (as opposed to overshadow them like the darkness of everlasting night...). It felt like classic country instead of the jumble of conflicting and depressing visuals (and soundicals) of their previous performance. The lyrics fit nicely with the flowing and surprisingly upbeat music, the crowd sang along with most of the songs (we even seemed to learn a lot of new ones by then end) and everyone benefited from the general sense of camaraderie resulting from this being the last date they would play with Elliott Brood. It didn't completely wipe their last performance from my mind, but it was a good set and it created a mood the way an opening act should do. Should I ever happen upon them at a festival or as an opening act, I look forward to having my first impression of them more fully expunged.



Elliott Brood
Now THIS is what I'm talkin' about!!! With the much much MUCH improved opening performance the crowd was in just the right kind of mood for the Brood boys. Enthusiastically joking, jumping and juggling (ok there wasn't any juggling- I just couldn't think of another 'j' word...) they blazed through  one of the best sets I've ever seen them play. With songs I havn't seen in years (President 35 was faaaaantastic), classy duds, and the best drum kit this side of anywhere (ok I might be a little biased, but c'mon, a birch bark and tree-cross-section kit? so appropriate...) they had the audience belting it out and dancing along with every song.  Danielle even mentioned that this was practically the most enthusiastic she had ever seen a Montreal crowd (an impressive compliment, as many Montreal concert-goers will know).

Elliot Brood's strikingly appropriate and amazing drum kit

Nobutseriously I am completely in love with their choice of visuals...

(Its not every day you get to love a band for their music and their artwork!)

I wouldn't have admitted it before, but I was really disappointed in the last show and pretty sad to have to have that as my most recent memory of them for even a few weeks. Happily this fantastic concert has all but erased the un-fantasticness of the former one. Next up? At the Black Sheep Tavern in January... Four times in seven months? Not bad.

Oh right, one last thing; my sister finally got the opportunity to massively make fun of me for my Mark Sasso love when he walked in front of us and I turned all red. Really really red. Yes they could tell even in the dark, that's how bad it was. Damn band loves... Now I just have to figure out a way to get back at her by making her be suddenly face to face with Library Voices...!

Lyrical Musings on Musical Classifications or "What it means to like country"

CBGB stands for Country, Bluegrass, Blues. Seriously now, who would have guessed that? I mean obviously if you're a CBGB fan you would almost certainly know it, but most people who have only a cursory knowledge of CBGBs as a former rock club in New York City (arguably THE former rock club in New York City), I think would be surprised to learn that name of the legendary local has nothing to do with Rock and everything to do with Country...

I used to be one of those people who likes "all kinds of music... except for country and rap." Which was complete bollocks because 1) People who say they like 'all kinds of music' are usually the same people who can't name three of their favourite bands, and I am most definitely NOT that kind of a people, 2) I actually do like some rap, particularly 80s era rap, and I'm not sure that this is the best example of 'rap' music as we define it nowadays, but The Fresh Prince of BelAir was one of the first songs I ever knew all of the lyrics to, and 3) I totally do like country. My teenage-self would hit me over the head with a two by four for even thinking of uttering that sentence, but it does not make it any less true. I actually love country music.

I don't really know when or how it happened, but it happened. Hard core. (Okay not THAT hard core, because I only like a very specific kind of country music (CBGB one might say...) and still have a very viscerally unpleasant reaction to pop country- you know, the my-girlfriends-stole-my-truck-and-ran-over-my-dog-on-the-way-to-go-marry-her-cousin kind of country... or the I-got-nothin-to-say-but-gee-don't-I-sound-real-perdy kind. no good. borderline offensively bad.)  And this is what I love: banjo music. Johnny Cash music. washboards and wagon trains and tumbleweeds music. Hells my current favourite band (Elliott Brood  of course) boasts two banjos a harmonica and a slide guitar and has more than one song about a wagon train (as does Graveyard Train, another current love- though they also play chains, washboard and stand-up bass...)

(I swear this will relate back in a moment so bare with me) I recently saw Dan Mangan in concert and have since fallen in love with his song Road Regrets, particularly one stanza which goes, and I quote: "and rob he likes his country tunes. it’s never been the lens that i see through. but i guess driving for a week or two puts words in your mouth. so find dodge and then get out of it. it’s about as country as i get"

though arguable not 'country at all' the video for Road Regrets has 

numerous similarities to Elliott Brood's video for Second Son

It captures something about country that I have up till now had difficultly grasping- that it is a lens rather than just a sound. I may love the banjo and the hitting-objects-with-wooden-spoons, but its the storytelling that gets me, more specifically the way in which a country-song story is told (both lyrically and with the music...). Its the narrative and the music working together to create the imagery, to create the story, to create the world of the song... So despite my best intentions, it actually is the my-girlfriends-stole-my-truck-and-ran-over-my-dog-on-the-way-to-go-marry-her-cousin that I love. As long as its more about wagon trains and less about soap operas set in backwater Texas...

Sorry sixteen-year-old-me, I just can't help it- I loves me a good yarn.



Road Regrets by Dan Mangan
we’ll drive until the gas is gone. and then walk until our feet are torn. crawl until we feed the soil. film the whole thing. it’s all business in the left hand lane. drive there and then drive back again. escape can’t be the only way to escape. so i’ve gotten used to coffee sweats. still getting used to road regrets. hell, i took you up on all your threats to leave. it’s a shame, it’s a crying shame. and ain’t it always the way that takes you back to from where it is you came. and rob he likes his country tunes. it’s never been the lens that i see through. but i guess driving for a week or two puts words in your mouth. so find dodge and then get out of it. it’s about as country as i get. see you ain’t living until you’re living it. not dead ’till you die. but watch out for the paraphrase. for they will crown you then they will take your legs. see the cost is more than what you get paid. but do it anyway. it’s a shame, it’s a crying shame. and ain’t it always the way that takes you back to from where it is you came.