The Boomswagglers - Bootleg Beginnings

The Boomswagglers Bootleg Beginnings from the Shack out Back - HillGrass BlueBilly Sessions 2011

Why am I'm writing about this album? [CLICK HERE]

Suggested by my cousin, who is currently wrapped fully in that beautiful twilight of hubris that often comes along with a strong jaw, surplus of musical talent, an intimidating vocabulary and a knack for philosophy. A dangerous combination. For the world or for himself, we have yet to see. I recognize his journey as well as seeing that he is closer to the heart of the matter at this point than I was at the same age. This suggestion of his is the case in point. I did not reach the particular guidepost which would allow me to appreciate or create this type of music until late in my 20’s. Also, he has already heard of Jeff Buckley, Conor Oberst, John Prine and Voltaire. I blame YouTube.

During one of the high points of my artist output, my friends and I played a style of music that we called ‘Goo Grass’. A kind of sticky, off-balance bluegrass. The kind of self-assured stylistic choice borne out of an inability to reach a more refined variation of the same sound.

Boomswagglers have moved beyond this primordial soup we called Goo-Grass into what I easily recognize as the mature archetype of our early experiments. Their choices here do not stem from a lack of ability but seem instead to flow from an uninhibited delight of folk-magic.

These are people who have mastered the elements of the hill music. The masters of this magic are free to wield it however they like. This is the dirt-sorcery. They call it HillGrass, BlueBilly music which speaks to the same lexiconic symbolism as our term, ‘Goo Grass’, but garners a more robust structure which is reflected perfectly in this music.

Unabashed loose ends. The record sounds purposefully jagged. Overblown mics. It exists in that narrow seam between naïveté and carelessness. Focus without Attention and Attention without Focus. Easy to do accidentally, difficult to maintain consistently.

‘Why I sleep Alone’ is a perfect concoction rusty production of traditional melodic anchors whiplashing into a jug band jubilee with an unstable and fluctuating tempo. It’s a little squishy, but not ‘Gooey’ This is the sound I was always looking for but never found. It pleases me greatly that this music exists.

If you’ve heard of Avett Brothers. This is what happens if those boys ever get hooked on the methamphetamines. And not in a Trampled-by-Turtles-manic-ethos kind of energy. The sitting-around-an-oil-lamp-in-the-freezing-winter-laughing-so-hard-one-of-your-tooths-falls-out kind of energy. Like the Avetts, Boomswagglers hang vivid contemporary narratives and modern imagery on the hooks of old gospel, country and bluegrass standards. However, If the Avetts are defined by INTIMACY then Boomswagglers are IMMEDIACY. It is an immediacy that is starkly defined by the splintery nature of the recording and reinforced by the name of the band, the record and marketing in toto. Everything about the package tells you to expect something raw, seedy and untamed.

“Jim & Jack” is a profanity-laced blue ballad laid over the bones of Johnny Cash’s ‘A Boy Named Sue’ - Or it could be an ‘R’ rated Ray Stevens song. One is forced to immediately consider whether the rawness and lewdness is meant to be comical or poignant. I believe it’s a bit of both. ‘Mornin’ Pills’ threatens to honestly confront the listener with a serious expression and ‘Wilco Blues’ continues this theme of the earnest confessional in a convincing and fulfilling way.

The final track threw me a little. ‘Run You Down’ starts out with a very upfront kik and guitar in direct contrast with the rest of the record which was very vocal-heavy. At first, I was confused by the drastic change in sound and feared it was a change in production style. Perhaps they were going to lift the curtain and show us a traditionally produced track? But then the vocals came in, still overloaded but buried way back in the back. Scooping the middle out of everything and preserving the continuity of the record as a whole while introducing a small element of shape to the dynamics at the very end. It’s easy to miss that this song seems to be about the singer running a woman over with his car over because she was in love with another man.

Despite the dark themes and contemplative turn towards the end, there is an obvious tongue-planted-firmly-in-cheek approach to the entire endeavor. This often comes as a necessity with production like this because I believe the artist compensates for the inherent balance that the listener needs to appreciate it. The listener's mind must be framed to accept that this is an ‘off the cuff’, ‘work with what we have’, ‘just fucking around’, ‘one-take’ kind of production. The easiest way to do that is to begin with a spat of ‘novelty’ sounding songs that stomp the boots and then turn ever so slightly to face the listener and say ‘can I be real with you for a moment?’. It makes for an enjoyable and powerful moment. Not to belabor the Avett connection but 4 Thieves gone gets right to the heart of this in terms of how production choices affect listener engagement. That record begins with a very raw seedy track that would be at home on this Boomswaggler record and then immediately turns to face the listener and becomes very sincere. Boomswagglers wait just a bit longer and when they do turn to face you, their face is still a bit in the shadow.

If you allow your ears to acclimate to the piercing atmosphere of this record, a lot of depth can be found. From how the percussion and bass get laid into the mix or the flangy/ping-pongy ethereal curtain behind ‘Wilco Blues’ is especially beautiful.

I didn’t do any research so for all I know this is a ‘joke’ band of some kind made up of superheroes. It wouldn’t surprise me. The songwriting is on point, the performances are essentially flawless, and the production is not near as sloppy as it pretends to be. The total effect is that I believe this music is not only completely authentic but also authentically complete. It sounds like 2 or 3 guys and there may have been overdubs, but if you told me it was actually recorded in an open-air shack by a couple of dudes with a 4track, 2 mics, a woodstove and too much beer. I would not doubt you for a second.


That is all that matters.

To hear what I was doing around this same time, check this LINK which is as close as I could get to the aforementioned 'Goo Grass'. Check out my cousin's fledgling journey down this same jagged path HERE

It's Been A Minute

Continuing the cycle of overextending myself, getting burned out, rising from the ashes as some intoxicated Pheonix to do it all over again I have now returned to this nest of half-thoughts and philosophical introspection disguised as innocent and rambling blog posts.

Last I spent any real time here I was trying to listen to all the new music put out by everyone in the world during a single year. Yeah, it went about as you would expect, but you can explore past posts to see what survived. I'd like to try that again someday. But Believe it or not, there is more music created than can ever be listened to. You can never hear it all. Isn't that strange? In a world where all the music is available, we'll never hear it all.

I am writing to you in the midst of the global crisis of my lifetime. The COVID-19 pandemic. We have been isolated inside our houses for weeks now and there is no clear end in sight. Despite the magic of the internet and constant interactivity over social media and text, there is a real crushing sense of disconnection beginning to set in. Phone calls and Facebook can not replace casual conversation that takes place over coffee, face to face, in a chance meeting or as part of your routine mundane social patterns. There is no exposure to strangers or random encounters with that person who will never see again but has something to say that speaks right to your heart. And everyone is dying.

At least it seems that way. I haven't had any directly related COVID deaths in my life at this point, but celebrities and musicians are dropping like flies and a couple of recent events got me reminiscing on the connections and relationships I've been honored enough to cultivate during my life.

John Prine died this week of COVID. Obviously, such a tremendous loss and I was given cause to examine my relationship with his music. As a budding songwriter, I obviously was exposed to and listened to his work but It took a casual face to face interaction with a dear friend of mine to really drive the power of his songs home to me. It was on Sunday's that my friend Jon (different Jon) would get together and play guitars in my basement in Nebraska. He was of my dad's generation and as we took turns playing songs back and forth he would often play old folk and bluegrass covers. Many of which were the first I had heard them. Without fail he would play a Prine tune that I wasn't familiar with and the power was so potent that it stood out from everything else we were doing. If it wasn't for my friend Jon I may have never truly learned to appreciate Prine.

I also lost a long time friend to cancer this week. The combination of the two events led to different trains of thought but they both met in the same place. My friends are pretty great! I'm not a very communicative person. I don't call a lot, I don't text a lot. I often let friendships lapse for months or even years. But my friends. always seem to still be there when we do reconnect. As if no time has passed. I think this is a special bond and I'm happy to have more than a few.

When I think back to the impact my friends have had on my life, I almost always and immediately go to music. Not just playing music but also listening to it. I surely discovered much great music on my own, but those occasions where someone shared with me a special treasure that they knew about are powerful moments.

Sitting in my friend Chris' garage on two metal folding chairs. A boombox in between us on a milk crate. We light a joint and smoke it down while he plays for me Badmotorfinger for the first time in my life. Unforgettable and transitory.

My friend Mike and I, rummaging through his dad's CD collection to find all the ones that mike had heard the 'F' word on. He said 'check this one out' and puts in NiN Downward Spiral. Yeah, I heard the 'F' word on there for sure and we giggled our stupid little heads off, but I also heard something else. Something that cracked open the veil of perception as cleaning as any hit of LSD or religious epiphany. Taking that entire stack of CDs back to my house and listening to them one by one in headphones on my mom's Boombox/CD player. The sound of 'Once' by Pearl Jam fading in. My first listen through of TEN still burned in my memory and more visceral to me now than the memory of losing my virginity.

Moving to Nebraska and making friends that had been neck-deep in the birth of the Saddle Creek/Omaha music scene. And here's me, having never heard of Conor Oberst, Bright Eyes, Cursive or any of it. Having this treasure trove of experience dumped at my feet as common knowledge was one of the most humbling moments of my life.

The kid who passed me a primus cassette tape in 7th grade. This might have saved my life.

The girl who spelled her name with numbers who passed a cassette mix-tape of all her favorite punk bands. I wish I could find that tape. A firehose introduction to Black Flag, Prong, Minor Threat, Green Jelly and the like. Monumental shifts of perception that still define who I am to this very second. It is the people I associate with and the often the ones who became the best of friends that have turned me onto some of my favorite bands. Music that, in turn, sculpted large parts of my world-view, aesthetics, and personality.

As I sat thinking of these things, staring at a political argument I was having with another friend who has turned me onto some great music, I began wondering what was really important here. I put out a call on my Facebook wall for my friends to comment with a record they think I might have never heard. I'll be listening to these as they come in and write a short post on my initial reactions and see where that takes us.

Contemplation

I'm writing to myself. But I'm putting it on the internet. Letters that should be hidden away in a drawer or burned. Instead, mailed out. Return to Sender. Enveloping opines. Wrapping them up in impulsively knitted designs of erudite temperament.

2016

It was alright.

I did not make it through the list. Of course. My choices were abysmal by any decent standards. I am thankful for Scientists, in specific Thank You Scientist. Moderat caught my ear. Krizz Kaliko some other stuff was OK. I learned to hate myself and love again and the other way around. I've been upside down. But here we are. For at least one more sentence. Me now. You in the future. This moment, again. See you next time!

Album Of The Year

Kriss Kaliko - Go
Feature Track: Bite My Tongue. 
Keep Listening: Really, just keep listening.. wow. 
Middle Cut: Orangutan
Deep Cut: No Love
Go All The Way: Happyish

My only fear is that is will turn into some kind of R&B mutant. Full of nightmare sex scenes and bump and grind grooves that are ironic on a good day. Track 1 is full of so many new sounds I am about to faint, though. Every track is rated explicit. 16 tracks. If it can hold this momentum... ().()

My issue with music like this is the same as with the poppiest of Pop Country. Some of the best sounding songs have the absolute worst as the only intelligible first-listen lyrics. I am hoping for more Bite My Tounge type tracks. The next track is Didn't Wanna Wake You. Both of these have more "sentimental" vs. "party-time" content. They make for much more powerful experiences. The hooks in the latter are ripped!

There are too many, too fast to really nail down the one that holds it together. But it's a toss up between the subtle yelp and the screaming "Yes, It's something real(?)". The sonic space explored here is really visionary.

Scanning the track list, I see that TechN9ne is featured on two  three of the tracks, including the next one. And I have no intention of skipping Outta Line. OK. Let's dig in. This going to be tasty.

Behave is a total let down, right off the bat. It drops right into the flow a sick beat that falls off the cliff of another break-up banger. Tech N9ne verse gonna pull it around? Meh. Maybe I just don't get R&B irony? I admit, this is a possibility.

Right into drill piece, More. War music. At 2:10, I am positive that Stevie Stone(?) is spitting over the rhythm and melody of Devil Dent Down to Georgia. That is damn cold.

Dubstep is deconstructed and put back together into a cubist master-piece in No No's.

If you are looking for motivation, focus, or energy. Throw on something from this album. Beware, this is a very intense experience to take in one sitting. But individually, dare say randomly, this is an album that is sure to surprise and impress! Orangutan convinces me that Behave was definitely ironic. Ya'll gond' meet a black person in this song. This record is the end of rap/hiphop. The only reason to go back now is because you don't know about this album. The only thing it is missing is a Prince (RIP) solo.

A couple of skippable tracks. But I haven't heard anything that sounded so new and magnetic for quite awhile. Yes, I know how it looks that two of my featured tracks are the Tech verses. But they really are the best ones on this already breathtaking album. "I never said you would be B-E-A-U-T full".

The amount of bravery, talent and preparedness for the delivery of these verses in No Love. The beats are breaking me. They aren't even beats. There needs to be a new word for what is happening here. The only thing beat here, is everyone else's game.

There is another word that comes to mind under the cathedral arches of Stop the World. Comp. As in Comp-ton. As in assembling visual images together into a composite. As in musicians improvising a supporting mesh of sound so that a soloist or spoken word artist can deliver their message.

Beats are out.
Comps are in.
Comped in.
Compton.

Album of the Year.

No Love is a message from the cosmic sentience that has been mistaken for all manner of deities throughout time. Broadcast to the whole world through the one of the loudest megaphones in the universe, Western, Urban, Pop Music. "Noah" Love, Tech will be swallowed by no whale.

M83 - Junk
Feature Track: Go!
Keep Listening: For The Kids


I am in the middle of listening to M83's Junk for the 3rd time. I always get interrupted and I haven't finished yet. It seems like I am listening to dumb house music, but it's not. Am I going crazy? I think this album is fucking amazing too! The guitar solo on Go! alone! Maybe this one is album of the year. Do I need to wait until the whole year is finished before I can decide for sure? Surely something even better will be released, or already has been. Perhaps we will even see the greatest record of all time emerge this year!

Is one be able to, without any uncertainty,  able say what the best album ever created is? And I'm not even speaking objectively here. I mean exactly what I said, subjectively. From your perspective, whatever it may be. Is it actually possible to hold any belief? Even if there is no God. Even if  you and your mind are the only force of reason or perspective. Even if you had the agreement and blessing of every real or imaginable form of secondary confirmation. Would it be possible to truly hold any belief? One as simple as "The best album ever made." or "Album of Year".

Even, "The best song I have heard today" is such a fleeting, ephemeral notion.

Moon Crystal is like Krizz & Tech's Behave. When artists have the ability to make any kind of hook sound any way they want, they get a little carried away in the studio sometimes. It's understandable. That power is better used on the immediate following track, For The Kids, featuring Susanne Sundførd. Do you have any idea how hard it is to put that o with a slash through it when you don't type it often? That alone should show how much I want you to listen to this track.

But you also have to listen to Solitude! Deep breaths. The Wizard takes on that Moon Crystal Vibe without being so conscious about it. These little breaks are silly. The only feature I recognize is Beck. I haven't gotten to that track. I am not at the half-way point. Sure to be interrupted again. There are several tracks featuring MAI LAIN. What is the convention behind spotify ALL CAPS or not? Is this an artist or spotify choice? I notice it a lot in "urban" or "rap" titles and across all genres in features. However, that is very inconsistent. I hate the song Laser Gun but it that hook is indestructible. 2017 is going to see the sound of horns and glorious symphonic reconditioning done to shit until the mere mention of a trumpet will send the prospective Listener running AWAY from the headphones. What kind of fucked up crazy world are we living in?® 

Don't get me wrong, this record sounds awesome. But you really might not feel good about yourself after you do. They are playing with the "bliss point" of some of the most potent vibration theory available... To Be continued.