The Archives : Beck "Mellow Gold" (1994)

Posted by Chris Campbell at Friday, March 12, 2010 0

1994 is probably the year that music kinda became my life. It was the spring of '94 when I first heard Uncle Tupelo in a dumpy apartment on South Street in Boston. It was only a few days later or maybe earlier, that I arrived home from class for our almost daily smoking and drinking sessions, and learned that Kurt Cobain had died. I was never a big fan of Nirvana, but it was still pretty crappy news. In the summer of '94, I bought all four Uncle Tupelo records and subsequently dove into The Jayhawks, Hank Williams, Johnny Cash, The Replacments, Husker Du and any band or artist that was even mentioned in an article about Uncle Tupelo.



All that said, the record I listened to most in 1994 had to be Beck's Mellow Gold. Yeah, "Loser" was the big hit, and I liked that track, but it was the rest of the record that served as a soundtrack to my first of three years living in Boston. "Nitemare Hippy Girl" was my favorite track. I couldn't count the number of times I tossed out a 330am shout to the person near the stereo demanding this song. I can vividly recall sitting shotgun in my buddy's truck, driving down Boylston shouting the lyrics, "She's a magical sparklin' tease. She's a rainbow chokin' the breeze. She's bustin' out onto the scene. With nightmare bogus poetry. She's a melted avocado on the shelf. She's a science of herself. She's spazzing out on a cosmic level. And she's meditating with the devil." "Beercan," of course had the silly college-boy title, but it was the song that I loved. I was quickly departing my love of early hip hop, but Beck reignited that, as he was the best hip hop artist I'd heard in years. He was as good as Big Daddy Kane or Eric B. & Rakim, but had a huge touch of Bob Dylan. "I quit my job blowing leaves. Telephone bills up my sleeves. Choking like a one-man dustbowl. Freedom rock slimeball, talking in code. We went down." Man.

It was years before I'd tire of this record. Every time I went back, I found more. "Fuckin' With My Head (Mountain Dew Rock)" sounded like, ummmm, I really don't know. I heard influences all over the map on this record. But it was so damn original and so full of life and fire. "Pay No Mind (Snoozer)" served as the perfect follow-up to the hit. It's almost unimaginable to me that May will mark 16 years since this record was released. Most point to 1996's Odelay or 2002's Sea Change as Beck's best works, but to my ears, Mellow Gold is his best. It was and remains a record that grabbed not only all of Beck's influences, but all the sounds that moved me, from rock and folk to hip hop and soul, and the result was a damn masterpiece.

The Archives : Bobby Bare Jr. "Young Criminals Starvation League" (2002)

Posted by Chris Campbell at Tuesday, March 09, 2010 2

You just keep going back. Those are the records that prove to be the greatest pieces of art, as pretentious as that sounds. I can't count the number of records I raved about at the outset, but just didn't stand the test of time (Flaming Lips? The National?). Bobby Bare Jr.'s brilliant Young Criminals Starvation League may not have made my year-end best-of in 2002, but it's a record that I listen to regularly, and it's slowly becoming one of my favorite records of the past decade.

More than any record I can think of right now, it's unbelievably unique. The stories can be touching at one moment, hilarious the next, and maybe even bizarre. But it works. In "Flat Chested Girl From Maynardville," the girl laments, "No one pays attention to me, so no one knows nothing about me" and later "Does anyone wanna get high with me? Cause no one is watching so no one is worrying about me." It's a sad song, but delivered with some sort of abundance that makes you sing along.



Bare then sings the quite touching "Bullet Through My Teeth," which, seriously, is touching. There's of course "The Monk at the Disco" and "Dig Down," which begins, "This letter is addressed to Mr. Pete Townshend. Hey brother, I write you to say thanks for nothing. Your generation used up all the feelings, and if we rock, it looks like we're ripping you off." There's Bare's homage to Texas, that woman who's "Painting Her fingernails waiting for something to happen" while dreaming of Paul Newman's smile and, of course, the gorgeous opening track, "I'll Be Around."

There are so many emotions throughout this record, and so many moments of sympathy and perhaps empathy, that I'm sure most can relate to something. I mean, he even tells me that "San Francisco rocks and sways. And one day she'll fall into the Bay" before returning to his love for Texas. As much as I love the record Bobby, I'm going to take the risk.

The Archives : Camp Black Dog "Rock and Roll Summer Camp '98"

Posted by Chris Campbell at Monday, March 01, 2010 0

In the mid-to-late 90s, two of the best bands in the world were Philadelphia's Marah and Oxford, Mississippi's Blue Mountain. Toss in a member of Wilco and born was Camp Black Dog. At the time, I'd argue that Marah were the best band in the world, having just released one of the finest debut records ever with Let's Cut the Crap and Hook Up Later on Tonight. I can count on less than one finger the number of bands 2000-present who are as good as Marah were in the late 90s. Seeing them live was like seeing the Rolling Stones during their heyday or Springsteen at Main Point.

I believe the idea for Rock and Roll Summer Camp '98 was brought to life by Blue Mountain's Cary Hudson and his brother Chris. A bunch of bands would head down to Oxford, Mississippi for a few days, bring a ton of booze and instruments and just play whatever the hell came to mind. It was a mess. But a damn good mess. There were about 40 people, possibly as many dogs and certainly about 8x as many cases of beer. And these bands were at the height of their talents and passions.

In short order, the record was done and out. The record aptly opens with Marah's Dave Bielanko uttering, "It's important not to think when we're doing this. I just choked...thinking about bluebirds and shit" and in comes in a roar of guitars, banjos, drums, screams, maybe a flute? Brother Serge joins, "And I was a cocaine addict. Livin' on the road. Never going home" as the country and Irish influences blast throughout. I spent many a drunken night with the boys from Marah in the 90s, and well, this kinda spirit sounds pretty fitting. Wilco's John Stirratt takes the lead on the beautiful "Not So Far Away," but the highlight is the full band bombast of "The River" with Dave once again on lead.

I remember talking to Dave or Serge following Camp Black Dog and asking if a second summer camp may ever take place. They both assured me that it would and that I would be on the list of invites. The mere thought of being on hand for such an event had me grinning for months. Well, just like the days of Americana glory that took up the latter part of the 90s, it was short lived. Wilco got big. Marah released one more fantastic record before losing its way for a while and Blue Mountain suffered through a divorce and a long hiatus. Thus is the world of music, and life, I suppose. But Camp Black Dog reminds me of my favorite years of music. Bands such as 6 String Drag, The Backsliders, Whiskeytown, Son Volt, The V-Roys, 16 Horsepower and countless, countless others shaped everything about me. And Camp Black Dog brought many of them together.

The Archives : Robert Becker's "Lot #99-0038" (1999)

Posted by Chris Campbell at Tuesday, September 08, 2009 0

In 1999 or so, I met Robert Becker. I think it was through Eric Ambel or maybe just the almost nightly trips out to the NYC clubs to see bands. At the time, I was looking to try my hand at artist management, and Becker, having formerly manned the keys for The Gin Blossoms was looking to go it alone. One weekend, I made my way to his self-described "hacienda" in Park Slope to hear a few very rough recordings from what would become Lot #99-0038. I remember nervously entering his apartment as I didn't know the first thing about artist management. But I put on a bit of a front, which I think was nothing other than chain smoking and occasionally tossing in a quip like "nice touch on the bass" (it was probably a dobro). Nevertheless, I was immediately taken by the excitement of what lie ahead.

The next six months or so was a mix of babysitting, setting up gigs at anywhere that would take us (the two highlights being Irving Plaza and a night in Boston where we nearly killed each other), drinking, listening to revisions and repeat. I remember showing up at his apartment one Sunday afternoon and seeing the joy on his face as he was about to play me "When I Fade" for the first time. He played it once. I asked him to play it again. I was blown away. I couldn't believe that I was playing an integral role in this record. Well, I didn't add a note or a lyric, but I was on hand for the entire process.

When it was finally completed, with touches added from Chip Robinson, Ambel, Anna Goodman, Mike Daly and others, I had in hand an incredibly personal and naked expression of an artist and person leaving everything for all to see.

the hull of the sinking ship / and sparks fly when these words let slip / all these things still left to do / stuck in a storm i once stood / up for the things i once would / i've been ready for years

To this day, my involvement on this record brings on incredible pride. Every song is stunning, and to have been there to witness their formation, is something I won't soon forget.

The Archives : Son Volt "Wide Swing Tremolo" (1998)

Posted by Chris Campbell at Saturday, August 15, 2009 0

When Jay Farrar bid farewell to Uncle Tupelo in the spring of 1994, most onlookers and alt.country nerds (see: this blog and everything I've done daily since 1992 or so) predicted that Jay Farrar's post-UT career would easily outshine that of his suddenly-former bandmate Jeff Tweedy. Although opinions still differ on that front, Farrar's first four years outside of Uncle Tupelo were somewhat remarkable. His new band, Son Volt, produced one of the finest americana albums ever with 1995's Trace. 1997's Straightwaways was somewhat of a sequel to Trace with many moments that almost tapped the greatness of its predecessor.

With his creative juices still running at a furious pace, Son Volt tossed us Wide Swing Tremolo in 1998, a record that was immediately met with a bit of a collective raised eyebrow. Fans were used to, and well, in love with, Farrar's perfected sound that married Gram Parsons to Neil Young's Comes a Time. It was a simple sound, but honed and beautiful in its writing. He was William Faulkner with chops, a voice almost as deep as Waits and a sensibility that brought on chills. But Wide Swing Tremolo was something very different. The first track, "Straightface," is an in-your-face rocker, somewhat akin to Young's move to the Crazy Horse-era. And then comes "Driving the View," perhaps the greatest driving song ever written. "From different levels, just pieces together, never had a fall, that didn't burn with laughter" opens the track accompanied by blazing guitars. This is an epic song, one that grabs every piece of the listener and elicits well, euphoria. The up-tempo high-volt numbers continue with "Question," "Medicine Hat," "Flow," and "Right on Through." But interspersed are the traditional and stripped-down gems that his fans simply couldn't do without. "Hanging Blue Side" is a standout, but it's clear that Farrar had little interest in slowing down on this record. And he doesn't.


Son Volt @ The Paradise, Boston, 1995

Jay Farrar's legacy will likely be that of one of the better songwriters of the 1990s, and of course, one of the forefathers of the contemporary alt.country movement. But often lost in that sweeping overview is Wide Swing Tremolo, a record that not only reveals Farrar at his core, but represents his finest and most poignant writing to date.

The Archives : Steve Earle "I Feel Alright" (1996)

Posted by Chris Campbell at Saturday, August 08, 2009 0

When Steve Earle was let out of the pen after a two-year sentence for all sorts of drug activity, he absolutely exploded with creative energy, recording three consecutive gems from 1995-1997. The centerpiece, 1996's I Feel Alright, is arguably Earle's best record, and to my ears, among the ten best records of the 90s. After years of battling heroin addiction (among countless other substances), Earle followed up the more tame Train a Comin' with this somewhat explosive Americana sound. The self-proclaimed "Hard-Core Troubadour" compiled a raucous mix of 12 perfectly-paced tracks. From the in-your-face declarations in the lead track "I Feel Alright" to the almost Badlands-inspired love-on-the-run "Billy and Bonnie," almost 15 years later, this record sounds as fresh as it did in the mid-90s.

Steve Earle is still recording records at a frantic pace, most recently tossing out Townes, his tribute to his old Texas buddy and mentor. Most of his records released this decade have offered up mixed results, each usually having a few stellar tracks and a slew of duds. But during the alt.country heyday of the mid-to-late 90s, Steve Earle's music was as important, vital and inspired as that of his younger brethren. I Feel Alright is a testament to that.

The Archives : 6 String Drag "High Hat" (1997)

Posted by Chris Campbell at Thursday, April 30, 2009 0

Whatever your thoughts on Steve Earle relative to his music, collaborations, political views or acting skills, one thing can't be debated: He has an incredible ear for talent. Earle launched E Squared Records in 1996 with longtime pal Jack Emerson and the label acted like a label should, releasing new, exciting and important music. If not for Earle, who knows if The V-Roys, 6 String Drag and Bap Kennedy ever would have found a home. And these three, along with Cheri Knight and a few others, rounded out a label that discovered some of the best rock bands of the 90s.

Like many of Earle's collaborations, E Squared was short lived and many blame Earle for the demise of a number of the bands on the label. But whatever the end result, the goods delivered while the label was active are remarkable. And the best of the lot just may be 6 String Drag's High Hat. It's rare that an album is great from top-to-bottom, especially one that goes generally unnoticed by the general public, but High Hat is just that: flawless. Mixing rockers such as "Ghost" and "Bottle of Blues" with down-tempo beauties such as "I Can't Remember," well, that's really the only ballad, it's almost unimaginable to consider that 6 String Drag called it quits after this gem.. Fronted by Kenny Roby (featured in an earler The Archives), the writing and storytelling are energized and simple. If you don't have the record, it'll be a tough find, but it's out there.

Bottle Of Blues - 6 String Drag

The Archives : Old 97's "Blame It On Gravity" (2008)

Posted by Chris Campbell at Thursday, April 23, 2009 0

It hasn't gathered a whole lotta dust, but this record was so grossly overlooked last year, that it's worthy of a little revisit. Gravity is arguably their best record since 1999's Fight Songs and came as a huge surprise after the 2004 clunker Drag It Up.

Blame It On Gravity is far from the recycled sound that the 97's have tried in the past. These songs are fresh and stand as some of the best songs this fantastic band has ever recorded. "No Baby I" could very well be their best song to date and "Color of a Lonely Heart Is Blue" and "The One" round out one heck of a return to form. The strange thing about this album is that they decided to include just a few absolute clunkers, most notably "Dance With Me" and "Early Morning," the latter being perhaps the worst song any band has ever put on a record. But if you excuse a few duds, this is an excellent record, one that gets better and better on repeat listens.

After Rhett Miller's last solo record and the previous 97's record I feared that these guys had run out of gas. But Gravity, along with bassist Murry Hammond's strong solo debut I Don't Know Where I'm Going But I'm On My Way prove that there's still a lot left in the tank. And if I wasn't featuring Gravity, there's a good chance I'd have gone with Rhett's 2002 solo record The Instigator, another solid collection of tunes that deserves far more credit than it gets.

The Archives : The Gourds "Stadium Blitzer" (1998)

Posted by Chris Campbell at Thursday, April 09, 2009 2

If pressed to name the best band since say, 1997, I'd probably consider a few and then ultimately land on Austin, Texas' The Gourds. As far as recorded output and live shows, I really don't see any comparison. Co-fronted by Kevin "Shinyribs" Russell and Jimmy Smith, and backed by Claude Bernard, Max Johnston and Keith Langford, not only have they released just shy of ten fantastic records, but they have been arguably the best live act for over a decade. Sure, there have been bands competing for that badge, most notably Centro-matic, Slobberbone, Arcade Fire, Wilco and Josh Ritter, to name a few, but as far as longevity and spirit, no one touches The Gourds.

Stadium Blitzer is their second record, just a year past the wonderful debut Dems Good Beeble. Songs such as "Magnolia," "Boil My Strings," "LGO," "I Ate the Haggis" and "Cold Bed" remain fan favorites, and the lesser known tracks such "Pushed Her Down," "Raining In Port Arthur," and "When the Money Comes Rolling In" are just about half of what is a massive artistic accomplishment. This record is as much fun as it is introspective, but the overriding feel is a spirited collection of songs that should be remembered for decades to come. And at least in this household, there's no question that they will be.

This is a must-have for well, everyone? And once you've made this purchase, it's time to buy everything else, including this year's Haymaker!, a record that could land atop my year end best of.

The Archives : The Mayflies USA "Walking in a Straight Line" (2002)

Posted by Chris Campbell at Tuesday, March 31, 2009 0

I remember 2002 being a fairly rough year on a few personal fronts. I also recall spending late summer and early fall in bars throughout Brooklyn. The Brooklyn Inn was obviously my/our favorite, but we spent many late nights at stops throughout Park Slope, Carroll Gardens and Cobble Hill. There was The Gate, Boat, Great Lakes, that classic bar all the way down Fifth Avenue that had a Buckner mix on the jukebox, and of course, the newly discovered O'Connors, which turned out to be the bar where Elliott Smith wrote most of XO. When we weren't in these bars (and many more), we'd be seeing bands at Southpaw, North Six, The Mercury and at venues large and small all over the city (and Hoboken and Connecticut and other cities).

The bars and music provided some respite from some turmoil going on in my life. And a record by a virtually unknown band named The Mayflies USA shot power pop right through me. Around this time I was listening to everything from Big Star and The Posies to The Possibilities and the Mayflies. And Walking in a Straight Line nailed me. Similar to bands like Beulah, I couldn't believe that the Mayflies weren't absolutely huge. The songs were quick, catchy and damn joyous. I can remember sitting in apartments and singing along to "The Good Girls Goodbye" and "You Won't Find Me" with friends until the sun came up. In my search to figure out who I was and where I was going, the line: "From the Sea of Japan to the Tappan Zee. You can go anywhere, but you won't find me" offered a bit of comfort. But this wasn't a record for reflection or solemnity; it was a record full of spirit and perhaps most importantly, it was a record that helped me plow through.

The Archives : Jay Bennett & Edward Burch's "The Palace at 4am" (2002)

Posted by Chris Campbell at Monday, March 23, 2009 2

When Jay Bennett played his final show with Wilco on July 4, 2001, instead of wallowing, he jumped into the studio with his pal Ed Burch and recorded the fantastic The Palace at 4am. With Jeff Tweedy no longer at his side, the record fell under the radar, but it's a beautiful pop mix recalling the best of Nick Lowe and Elvis Costello.

Only a few folks know what really led to Bennett's dismissal/departure from Wilco, but it would be hard to argue that his talents and input opened up Tweedy's mind and musical palette. And please excuse the fact that I just used the word palette; I just couldn't come up with anything else. Bennett was instrumental in Wilco's three best records: Being There, Summerteeth and Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, not to mention the two Mermaid records. Since Bennett's been gone, the band's output has unquestionably suffered. A Ghost Is Born has its moments, but as a whole, is subpar by Wilco standards. 2007's Sky Blue Sky is a step above AGIB but still doesn't reach the trifecta that Bennett played a huge part in creating.

Back to Bennett's first record post-Wilco. From "Talk To Me" and "Forgiven" to "Like a Photograph" and "Little White Cottage", it could be argued that Bennett has released the best record by either Tweedy or Bennett since Bennett played his last lick with the band in Grant Park on Independence Day, 2001. Some of the songs are simple pop numbers, while others recall the sprawling sound that Bennett made a staple of the Wilco sound. If you loved Wilco's sound through 02, you should own this record.

Here are five songs from the record:

The Archives : The Damnation TX's "Half Mad Moon" (1998)

Posted by Chris Campbell at Wednesday, February 25, 2009 0

Right around the same time that the Dixie Chicks took the country and pop world by storm with their tedious ballads, the Damnations TX released their debut record, Half Mad Moon, on Warner imprint, Sire (ya know, home to The Replacements, Ramones and early Wilco). Similar in some respects, there was one big difference: The former were pretty terrible and the latter were not. Half Mad Moon was a fantastic debut from a four piece, fronted by sisters Amy Boone and Deborah Kelly with The Gourds' Keith Langford on the kit and Rob Bernard (brother of The Gourds' Claude Bernard) on various instruments, the harmonies were beautiful and balanced, while the music blended traditional country with pretty darn straightforward rock n' roll.

The Damnations TX came on the scene at the same time that the country/rock thing of the 90s was at its apex. Wilco, Son Volt, The Old 97's and Steve Earle were household names and the Damnations TX were one of those opening acts on the cusp that never received their due. I caught them once at SXSW (in the park, I believe) and they put on a sweet and charging set. Unfortunately, upon the release of this gem, Sire was stumbling through typical label restructuring and the Damnations were lost in the corporate nude mud wrestling. They went on to release one more record in 2002 via some long forgotten indie and that was it. No official breakup was ever announced, but a google search of the band turns up very little. Whether their decision to move on was their own or the product of an industry that moved way beyond committing to quality acts, they left us with a near masterpiece in Half Mad Moon.

I drive all night, til these wheels get bloody. Anything I could do, just to catch you alive

The Archives : Marah's "Let's Cut the Crap and Hook Up Later on Tonight" (1998)

Posted by Chris Campbell at Friday, February 13, 2009 2

One of the best debut records ever released. The band, led by brothers Dave and Serge Bielanko, were as deep-rooted in Philadelphia as Rocky Balboa or Mike Schmidt. They were Springsteen one state over with Westerberg riding shotgun. When I first listened to this record I was blown away in a way that few records have done. It was hunger, freedom, debauchery, youth and abandon with so many damn instruments, howls, Phillies announcers and hand claps that it should've blown the face off of rock n' roll.



On the fifth day,
Of the fifth month,
At five o'clock in the dawn,
I rolled myself in a t-o-p,
And jumped down highway 1,
With a 400 engine hot as a cremation coffin,
And a tailgate bangin' like an airplane wing,
I was rollin' down the highway, doin' it my way,
Whistlin' "Someday" and singin' this song

I spent many-a-weekend in the late 90's hopping on the turnpike and heading from New York to Philly to see this band. I often wouldn't know where I'd lay my head or when I'd be back, but the need to see these guys was almost beyond my control. I'd cancel a date, leave work early and drive way beyond the speed limit to get there on time. I saw them all over Philadelphia and hours outside the city. At a Halloween show at the Pontiac they pulled me onstage to smoke, drink and harmonize on a terrible Skynyrd song.

I recall saying to friends that seeing Marah was like seeing the Stones during the Exile days, but maybe better. They were that good. Shows were fueled by booze, smokes and a pure rock n' roll energy that left me drenched in sweat and beer as the shows let out well past last call.

with Dave Bielanko @ The Pontiac, Halloween ('98?)

It all came from Let's Cut the Crap and Hook Up Later On Tonight, an album that mixes The Faces, Stones and Springsteen, yet is all Marah. It's youth, desperation and an uncertain fearlessness that together made this one of the greatest debut rock records ever made. There was nothing slick, nothing left behind and nothing left unsaid. As Dave says on "Boat": haste makes waste / and fans away my wasted friends / and it don't put you on top the world.

The Archives : The V-Roys' "Just Add Ice" (1996)

Posted by Chris Campbell at Friday, January 16, 2009 1 comments

The V-Roys were one of those bands that should have, pardon the following two words, been huge. Seriously, they should have. Signed by Steve Earle's E-Squared in 1996, first came the referenced release Just Add Ice. This young in-your-face foursome from Tennessee played simple, straightforward rock and roll. The lyrics were strong, the guitars were loud and they played as a charging unit. And when need be, they could turn it down and deliver perfect ballads. They were a countrified version of The Replacements (I think lead singer Scott Miller is still maintaining the drinking badge) in 50s style suits.

Their first record revealed a band energized and ready to make a heavy impact on the rock n' roll world. But 1996 was a time when good music was still very deep in the shadows. Although that's mostly the case today as well, had The Arcade Fire or My Morning Jacket been around then, they would have likely been as obscure as The V-Roys. When you add Scott Miller's dislike for any part of the country outside of the Southeast, you had the makings for a tough climb.



They followed up their brilliant debut with the (almost) equally strong All About Town. Although the latter showed writing maturation, it was Just Add Ice that displayed a band in the truest sense of the word. Mic Harrison accompanied Miller on vocals for a near perfect pairing. Following their second record, the band released a live record and disbanded. Some rumors attribute the parting of ways to their involvement with Earle, but who really knows. Miller has gone on to a quiet yet impressive solo career, and Harrison has done the same. But like so many fantastic Southeast bands from the 90s, The V-Roys' career was far too short.

"When you put on your story, I will sigh with relief
Whatever you say dear, it's a lie I believe"
from "Lie I Believe"

The Archives : Kenny Roby's "Rather Not Know" (2002)

Posted by Chris Campbell at Tuesday, December 09, 2008 0

Back when Ryan Adams wasn't terrible, I believe he said that Kenny Roby is the best songwriter in music. Hyperbole noted, but Roby is certainly a heck of a writer and singer. After disbanding North Carolina's 6 String Drag in 1998, Roby has gone on to release three solo records, all of which are superb. I've listened to all three over the years, but I seem to spend more time with 2002's Rather Not Know, an album penned following the death of his father.

Though there are moments of introspection and sadness, this is far from an across-the-board sad record. "Bobby Rodan" is one of the prettiest ballads I've ever heard, while "Glad It Ain't Me" is a jovial and hilarious country number that'll have your foot tapping in no time. "Not Gonna Give Up" is a charming and funny bar-rocker based on the hopes of two women, Thelma and Lucy. The record closes with the heartbreaking "Highway Cross", a song so beautiful that each listen leaves me mesmerized.

Roby's last record was released in 2006 and his websites have seen little movement since. If I recall correctly, Roby has quipped a few times about possibly leaving music. Richard Buckner said the same last year and we haven't heard a note since. It's an absolute shame when artist's of the caliber of Roby and Buckner can't make ends meet while delivering such meaningful and timeless music. If we're lucky, Roby will not be another casualty of an industry beyond turmoil.

The Archives: Jay Farrar's "Sebastopol" (2001)

Posted by Chris Campbell at Monday, November 10, 2008 0

Oh the debates my friends and I had when Farrar released his first solo record following 15 years with Uncle Tupelo and Son Volt. It took most of us some time to wrap our arms around this collection, but once we did, the ferocity of our discussions was worthy of legend. Once I'd listened enough, I was one of the very vocal naysayers. What the hell was this "Voodoo Candle" song? And the groaning intro on "Damn Shame" was just silly. I wanted the rustic and bare-bones Americana Jay Farrar. Whatever this new sound was, I didn't like it.

Following Sebastopol came the even more disappointing Terroir Blues, a record so bland and predictable that I figured my time with Farrar came to a halt with Son Volt's 1998 masterpiece Wide Swing Tremolo.


Jay Farrar @ The Bowery Ballroom, NYC, 2003

Sometime early last year I took a day off work and planned a solo day trip up to the town of Sebastopol, CA. I'd heard that it was a quaint little liberal town with a great bookstore, one or two bars and a very 50's feel. As I flipped through CDs for the drive, I figured I'd toss in, well, Sebastopol. I hadn't listened to the record in years, and figured it was worth a spin on the ride up. As I pulled into town, I recall "Make It Alright" blaring through the speakers and coming to realize that I was experiencing something new with this record. Later came "Drain", "Different Eyes", "Outside the Door", "Vitamins" and then a return to the beginning of the record. Like many of the greatest records I own, I realized that Sebastopol just needed time. It wasn't a quick record to grasp and the stylistic change in Farrar's work likely caught me off guard a few years back. But now I got it. And the sound, the pounding drums and the beautiful lyrics, made it clear that I'd missed this one. Perhaps this wasn't Trace, but this certainly represented a continuation and maturation in Farrar's musicianship and songwriting. It's one of those rare records that rewards the listener as the years go by and the landscape takes shape.

The Archives: Star City's "Inside the Other Days" (2001)

Posted by Campbell at Friday, August 15, 2008 2

This new so-called "feature" tentatively entitled The Archives will look at records that never got their due praise. Perhaps they only sold 10,000 copies, but in most cases, I'd imagine that these selections had a tough time exceeding 2,500 in sales. There's a good chance that many of the bands may not ring a bell, and a good portion were making records in the mid-to-late 90s, which still stands as the greatest music period of my life.



Star City was founded by West Virginia native Jason Lewis. The band gained a solid following in New York City in the late 90s and early 00s, playing regularly at The Mercury Lounge, The Rodeo Bar, and just about any place that'd book them. They weren't a fantastic live band, but their shows were always about the fans as much as they were about the band. Most Star City shows were full-night events, often carrying on to the Lakeside Lounge until the wee hours of the morning. Guitarist David Chernis (now in The Damnwells) was the Nils Lofgren of the alt.country scene, and keyboardist Kevin Karg was always there for a laugh or an ice cream onstage.


Jason Lewis at the Lakeside Lounge, NYC

Star City had aspirations but never caught enough steam to grab a foothold outside of Manhattan. After only two records, members started to explore other opportunities and a "hiatus" soon become the end of Star City. Lewis has moved to Iowa to study, write a novel and teach. I believe Chernis is still in The Damnwells, while bassist Scott Yoder, keyboardist Kevin Karg and drummer Nancy Polstein appear to have moved on to other things.

Despite their short time together, 2001's Inside the Other Days remains one of my favorite records of that period. And here it is in its entirety: