This week's tm3am.com column is all about women.
I haven't done any kind of accurate count, but I'm betting female artists only make up about 20 percent of my music collection. I don't think that's bias on my part. I honestly think women aren't allowed into the game as often as men are. The Internet has done wonders to fix that problem, but not enough. I say we need more women making smart, passionate music.
As proof, I took a look at four albums from female artists. Two of them are from multi-platinum superstars (Sarah McLachlan, Sheryl Crow), and those aren't particularly good. But I found much to like in Liz Phair's surprising (and surprisingly derided) Funstyle, and proclaimed Janelle Monae's The ArchAndroid one of the year's best. In the end, it's like anything else: you have to go digging for the good stuff.
As always, click on over to read the column, and head back here to leave me a comment.
One interesting side note: there's a bit in there where I list off some of my favorite female songwriters. I picked three off the top of my head, and I didn't realize until later that Tori Amos isn't one of them. There was a time, not so long ago, when I wouldn't have believed she'd ever slip from my list of favorites. Ah well.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
New Column: Bow Ties Are Cool
Bit of a potpourri this week at tm3am.com. The bulk of the column is dedicated to my postgame thoughts on Doctor Who's 31st season, and how brilliant Matt Smith is in the title role. But don't despair, music fans. I also reviewed Marc Cohn's new covers album Listening Booth: 1970 and wrote a quick reaction to Iron Maiden's show in Chicago on Sunday, which I attended. (My ears have finally stopped ringing.) I also eulogized Harvey Pekar, the irascible creator of American Splendor, who died last week.
So yeah, bit of everything. Hope you enjoy it. Click on over to read it, then head back here to leave a comment.
So yeah, bit of everything. Hope you enjoy it. Click on over to read it, then head back here to leave a comment.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
New Column: Nothing's As Good As It Used to Be
If last week's tm3am.com column was about a long-running band surpassing my expectations, this week's is about two of them falling short. I wanted to love both the new Crowded House, Intriguer, and the self-titled debut EP from Trent Reznor's new project, How to Destroy Angels. But I didn't, and in this week's column, I explain why.
But don't despair, music fans. I also praised Sia's new one, We Are Born, for being a well-crafted, frothy dance platter extraordinaire. You can read all three reviews at tm3am.com right now, and then come on back here when you're done to leave me a comment.
But don't despair, music fans. I also praised Sia's new one, We Are Born, for being a well-crafted, frothy dance platter extraordinaire. You can read all three reviews at tm3am.com right now, and then come on back here when you're done to leave me a comment.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
New Column: Preaching 'Bout the Choir
I've been a Choir fan for 20 years. I've stuck with this extraordinary Tennessee band through ups and downs, amazing albums and less-than-amazing albums. I think they may be my favorite band on the planet. And even I am surprised at how good their new one, Burning Like the Midnight Sun, is.
Over at tm3am.com this week, I wax ecstatic about Midnight Sun for something like 2200 words. If you want the short version, here it is: Midnight Sun finds the Choir returning to their late-'80s, early-'90s sound, spinning reverbed guitar masterpieces and sounding more comfortable and assured than they have in 20 years. It's their best album since 1990, and you should buy it here.
For the long version, click on over to read my column, and come back here to leave me a comment. I also compiled and edited my blog posts on Cornerstone into another column here, if you're interested in reading them in another format.
Over at tm3am.com this week, I wax ecstatic about Midnight Sun for something like 2200 words. If you want the short version, here it is: Midnight Sun finds the Choir returning to their late-'80s, early-'90s sound, spinning reverbed guitar masterpieces and sounding more comfortable and assured than they have in 20 years. It's their best album since 1990, and you should buy it here.
For the long version, click on over to read my column, and come back here to leave me a comment. I also compiled and edited my blog posts on Cornerstone into another column here, if you're interested in reading them in another format.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
First Listen: Dignan, Cheaters and Thieves
Usually, consistency of tone is a problem for me. I like my albums to mix it up, to vary the sound. But Texas quintet Dignan does its one thing so well over the course of debut full-length Cheaters and Thieves that I find myself getting lost in it.
Dignan plays slow, atmospheric rock that rises and falls like waves, and the album is 30 minutes of crawling and chiming guitars, percussion and vocal harmonies. The songs are more concerned with atmosphere than melody, but the whole thing plays like a single track, one that ebbs and flows masterfully. Harpist Timbre Cierpke, who has her own tonally consistent band, lends beauty to two tracks, including the slowly-awakening opener "A Fool." I saw Dignan perform most of these songs at Cornerstone this year, and the album does a remarkable job of capturing their live sound.
Next time, I hope the band shakes things up a little more, but Cheaters and Thieves is a good record, and a fine introduction to this band. Check them out here.
Dignan plays slow, atmospheric rock that rises and falls like waves, and the album is 30 minutes of crawling and chiming guitars, percussion and vocal harmonies. The songs are more concerned with atmosphere than melody, but the whole thing plays like a single track, one that ebbs and flows masterfully. Harpist Timbre Cierpke, who has her own tonally consistent band, lends beauty to two tracks, including the slowly-awakening opener "A Fool." I saw Dignan perform most of these songs at Cornerstone this year, and the album does a remarkable job of capturing their live sound.
Next time, I hope the band shakes things up a little more, but Cheaters and Thieves is a good record, and a fine introduction to this band. Check them out here.
Is there such a thing as intentional irrelevance?
So Prince has declared that "the Internet is over," and is throwing his lot in with newspapers. That's really something. Will next album be called Get Off My Lawn?
Clicky.
Clicky.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Cornerstone Festival Day Three
So I've been reading this book by Daniel J. Levitin called The World in Six Songs. In it, Levitin posits that music is an evolutionary necessity, an absolutely vital part of our human existence. We create music because we have to, because our brains are wired to express and receive information and emotions through song. Music is, Levitin says, a biological imperative. We sing because we are, and we are, in large part, because we sing.
I see that everywhere I look at Cornerstone. Every few feet, someone is making music, and I don't just mean the bands on the myriad of stages. Small groups harmonize in the middle of the walking path. A kid with a guitar spins stories while his friend keeps time on a plastic bucket. One of the coolest things I saw all week was a collective of acoustic players gathered inside an unused silo on the farm grounds, singing and taking in the ambiance.
Music is part of our hardware, and music festivals like Cornerstone are places we can connect on that deep, spiritual level. For me personally, I haven't gone a day without listening to music since... well, I can't even tell you. And when I meet someone, most often the first thing I want to know about them is what kind of music they like. I'm always on the lookout for new musical experiences, new connections.
Friday was new discovery day at Cornerstone. I knew going in this would be the day with the fewest expectations. None of my well-aligned stars found their way into Friday's lineup - the headliner at the gallery stage was Over the Rhine, a band I love dearly, but one I've seen more than half a dozen times. OtR played twice, once acoustically and once with their full electric sound. They debuted some new songs from the upcoming album The Long Surrender. Their sets were terrific, as always, and I can't think of a better way to bid the 2010 Cornerstone experience goodbye than listening to Karin Bergquist sing.
But before today, I'd never heard of most of the bands I took in. And now I have some new favorites (and a bunch of new CDs I haven't heard yet). I started the day by breaking my moratorium on the main stage - I saw Photoside Cafe, after hearing nothing but good things about them for two days. They were terrific. People told me they resemble the Dave Matthews Band, but they don't. They sound almost exactly like the Levellers - loud, aggressive folk-rock, with a violin at the center.
Dramatic rockers Dignan knocked me out with their rising-falling-rising-again guitar landscapes. Their album is called Cheaters and Thieves, and if it's half as good as their set today, I'll be happy. Paper Route was less impressive, although the crowd was into it. To me, it seemed like they stole Mutemath's schtick: the drummer is energetic and entertaining in exactly the same ways Darren King is, everyone in the band played percussion at certain points, the show was highly choreographed. The difference is, Paper Route's songs aren't as strong. But they have potential.
But the find of the festival, for me, was Timbre. Yes, her name is Timbre. She plays a harp and sings, and her band is extraordinarily diverse, playing toy pianos, oboes, accordions and dozens of other instruments. One song featured a section in what I counted as 21/8, a bizarre time signature, and at another point, everyone in the band crowded around Timbre, playing parts on her harp - it sounded like a web of plucked strings. Her new album, Little Flowers, includes a cover of Radiohead's "Like Spinning Plates." I can't wait to hear this.
And then there was Eisley, a band I've always enjoyed. This sister act has completed its third album, evidently, but it's lost in record label hell, and may never come out. Which is a shame, because the new song they played tonight ("Sad") is excellent. Eisley is an energetic and melodic pop band with chops and harmonies and everything going for them. I hope they sort out their label situation soon, because they're too good to languish for long.
And that's it, the sum total of my Cornerstone ride this year. I heard from a lot of people how bad attendance was this year, and how depressing the festival was, but I didn't feel much of that. There was enough extraordinary music to keep me going, even on virtually no sleep. Aside from that unfortunate Choir show, everything went better than I expected.
I would give you more musings on faith and art and my own reactions to both here, but I am about to pass out. I plan to rework and repost much of these blog entries as my tm3am column on Wednesday, so look for more detailed analysis then. As for now, I'm off to dreamland, my third Cornerstone behind me. Special thanks to Jeff Elbel for putting me up for the week, and to everyone I met and talked with. You all helped make a special experience even more so.
Good night, good night.
I see that everywhere I look at Cornerstone. Every few feet, someone is making music, and I don't just mean the bands on the myriad of stages. Small groups harmonize in the middle of the walking path. A kid with a guitar spins stories while his friend keeps time on a plastic bucket. One of the coolest things I saw all week was a collective of acoustic players gathered inside an unused silo on the farm grounds, singing and taking in the ambiance.
Music is part of our hardware, and music festivals like Cornerstone are places we can connect on that deep, spiritual level. For me personally, I haven't gone a day without listening to music since... well, I can't even tell you. And when I meet someone, most often the first thing I want to know about them is what kind of music they like. I'm always on the lookout for new musical experiences, new connections.
Friday was new discovery day at Cornerstone. I knew going in this would be the day with the fewest expectations. None of my well-aligned stars found their way into Friday's lineup - the headliner at the gallery stage was Over the Rhine, a band I love dearly, but one I've seen more than half a dozen times. OtR played twice, once acoustically and once with their full electric sound. They debuted some new songs from the upcoming album The Long Surrender. Their sets were terrific, as always, and I can't think of a better way to bid the 2010 Cornerstone experience goodbye than listening to Karin Bergquist sing.
But before today, I'd never heard of most of the bands I took in. And now I have some new favorites (and a bunch of new CDs I haven't heard yet). I started the day by breaking my moratorium on the main stage - I saw Photoside Cafe, after hearing nothing but good things about them for two days. They were terrific. People told me they resemble the Dave Matthews Band, but they don't. They sound almost exactly like the Levellers - loud, aggressive folk-rock, with a violin at the center.
Dramatic rockers Dignan knocked me out with their rising-falling-rising-again guitar landscapes. Their album is called Cheaters and Thieves, and if it's half as good as their set today, I'll be happy. Paper Route was less impressive, although the crowd was into it. To me, it seemed like they stole Mutemath's schtick: the drummer is energetic and entertaining in exactly the same ways Darren King is, everyone in the band played percussion at certain points, the show was highly choreographed. The difference is, Paper Route's songs aren't as strong. But they have potential.
But the find of the festival, for me, was Timbre. Yes, her name is Timbre. She plays a harp and sings, and her band is extraordinarily diverse, playing toy pianos, oboes, accordions and dozens of other instruments. One song featured a section in what I counted as 21/8, a bizarre time signature, and at another point, everyone in the band crowded around Timbre, playing parts on her harp - it sounded like a web of plucked strings. Her new album, Little Flowers, includes a cover of Radiohead's "Like Spinning Plates." I can't wait to hear this.
And then there was Eisley, a band I've always enjoyed. This sister act has completed its third album, evidently, but it's lost in record label hell, and may never come out. Which is a shame, because the new song they played tonight ("Sad") is excellent. Eisley is an energetic and melodic pop band with chops and harmonies and everything going for them. I hope they sort out their label situation soon, because they're too good to languish for long.
And that's it, the sum total of my Cornerstone ride this year. I heard from a lot of people how bad attendance was this year, and how depressing the festival was, but I didn't feel much of that. There was enough extraordinary music to keep me going, even on virtually no sleep. Aside from that unfortunate Choir show, everything went better than I expected.
I would give you more musings on faith and art and my own reactions to both here, but I am about to pass out. I plan to rework and repost much of these blog entries as my tm3am column on Wednesday, so look for more detailed analysis then. As for now, I'm off to dreamland, my third Cornerstone behind me. Special thanks to Jeff Elbel for putting me up for the week, and to everyone I met and talked with. You all helped make a special experience even more so.
Good night, good night.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Two More Things...
I'm up and about now on Day Three of my Cornerstone 2010 experience, and all set to head out the door. But there are two things I need to do first, sort of as an addendum to last night's posting.
The first is to talk a little bit more about that fantastic new Choir album, to balance off my post about their show last night. Burning Like the Midnight Sun is the Choir at the peak of their powers. Sonically, it hearkens back to their 1980s style, with lots of Chase the Kangaroo touches. It's definitely their best-sounding record in 20 years. The songs are all very good, with some of them making the leap to amazing.
At 50 minutes, it's their longest since 1995's Speckled Bird, and yet there isn't a song I would remove. It's fun - there are two songs named after band members - but serious-minded when it has to be. "The Word Inside the Word" and "Should Have Been Obvious" are a one-two punch of spiritual and political insight, and closing song "Say Goodbye to Neverland" may be my favorite melancholy Choir song ever - it's all piano, Derri Daugherty's wonderful vocals, and Marc Byrd's ethereal guitar paintings.
For all that, though, the opening salvo just can't be beat. "Midnight Sun" and the awesome "That Melancholy Ghost" combine to create the best starting-gun sprint since "Someone to Hold Onto" and "To Cover You." (For longtime fans, that's really something.) I'll have more on this on Wednesday, but I've heard this record twice now, and I love it to pieces.
The second thing I need to do is talk about Jeff Elbel. I completely forgot the most fun moment of my Cornerstone Thursday, which was Ping's set on one of the smaller side stages. Seven musicians crammed onto a tiny stage, playing a ragged set full of splendid covers, from "The Whole of the Moon" to "The Book of Love" to Chagall Guevara's massive "Violent Blue." It was an absolute blast, and the 40 or so people privileged enough to see it all had a great time. Plus, Jeff gave away a plaster cast of his teeth to one lucky audience member. You can't top that.
Okay, Cornerstone Day Three is coming up. Jonathan Jones, Eisley, Dignan, and two shows by Over the Rhine. Plus, hopefully, a few surprises. Who needs sleep?
The first is to talk a little bit more about that fantastic new Choir album, to balance off my post about their show last night. Burning Like the Midnight Sun is the Choir at the peak of their powers. Sonically, it hearkens back to their 1980s style, with lots of Chase the Kangaroo touches. It's definitely their best-sounding record in 20 years. The songs are all very good, with some of them making the leap to amazing.
At 50 minutes, it's their longest since 1995's Speckled Bird, and yet there isn't a song I would remove. It's fun - there are two songs named after band members - but serious-minded when it has to be. "The Word Inside the Word" and "Should Have Been Obvious" are a one-two punch of spiritual and political insight, and closing song "Say Goodbye to Neverland" may be my favorite melancholy Choir song ever - it's all piano, Derri Daugherty's wonderful vocals, and Marc Byrd's ethereal guitar paintings.
For all that, though, the opening salvo just can't be beat. "Midnight Sun" and the awesome "That Melancholy Ghost" combine to create the best starting-gun sprint since "Someone to Hold Onto" and "To Cover You." (For longtime fans, that's really something.) I'll have more on this on Wednesday, but I've heard this record twice now, and I love it to pieces.
The second thing I need to do is talk about Jeff Elbel. I completely forgot the most fun moment of my Cornerstone Thursday, which was Ping's set on one of the smaller side stages. Seven musicians crammed onto a tiny stage, playing a ragged set full of splendid covers, from "The Whole of the Moon" to "The Book of Love" to Chagall Guevara's massive "Violent Blue." It was an absolute blast, and the 40 or so people privileged enough to see it all had a great time. Plus, Jeff gave away a plaster cast of his teeth to one lucky audience member. You can't top that.
Okay, Cornerstone Day Three is coming up. Jonathan Jones, Eisley, Dignan, and two shows by Over the Rhine. Plus, hopefully, a few surprises. Who needs sleep?
Cornerstone Festival, Day Two
Tired doesn't even cut it today.
I woke up at about 8:30 a.m., because that's just what I do - I haven't slept past 8:30 in ages. I couldn't get back to slumberland, so today I did 12 hours of music on four hours of sleep. You'll forgive me if I keep this brief, although I don't really think I will.
I'm going to say this as plainly as I can: the reason I got out of bed this morning at all was the Choir. I've been a fan for 20 years, and I've seen them play four times now. The last time was in 2005, which, sadly enough, was the last time they reconvened on stage. So after a half-decade of no Choir shows, I was pretty stoked for tonight's late-night performance.
I've been upfront about my absence of faith, but here's one thing I will say: every time I get to see the Choir play, I thank God I'm alive. For one thing, it's such a rare occurrence, and for another, every show may well be the last. And for a third, the Choir spins such a magical atmosphere each time out, it's like living through a particularly vivid dream. I remember my first Choir concert, in 2001, after 11 years of listening to their records over and over again. I could scarcely believe it was happening - here were these people I'd only seen in photographs, playing this music I love intensely right in front of me. Magic.
If I ever needed confirmation that my heroes are human, tonight provided it. I don't want to say this, but tonight was a bad Choir show. The band clearly hadn't practiced much, and there were wrong notes galore, shifting tempos, forgotten lyrics, and a couple of spectacular flameouts. They tried to get through three new songs (from their wonderful new album Burning Like the Midnight Sun), and watched helplessly as they fell apart. The set was heavy on their twin high water marks Chase the Kangaroo and Circle Slide, and featured songs this band has been playing for 20 years. And yet, in Derri Daugherty's own words, it was rough.
Despite all that, I still enjoyed myself. Watching these guys play is always fun, and these songs are so permanently etched into my soul that even a bad performance couldn't spoil them. I feel lucky to have seen this show, and lucky to be a fan of this band. And the hundreds who gathered to watch the Choir's return to the gallery stage all seemed to feel the same way. This is our band, and if they have an off night, we'll help them through it. We love them. Tonight of all nights, we love them.
And every time I get to hear them play that bit in the middle of "Circle Slide," when they all just start making as much pretty noise as they can for as long as they can, my heart sings. "Circle Slide" was magnificent tonight. It's the kind of song that lifts you up and twirls you around, higher and higher. I wish the entire show had been as good, but hey, I got to see the Choir play one more time. I'm very lucky.
Also, I can console myself by listening to Burning Like the Midnight Sun over and over again. I'll have a more detailed review in this week's tm3am column, but I'll just say this: for the second time in a row, they've made their best album since Circle Slide.
I expected the rest of my day would be long and boring while I waited for the Choir to play. But I took in some superb performances today, and discovered some new favorites. Today's gallery stage lineup was assembled by John Thompson of the Wayside, formerly of Aurora, Illinois and now of Nashville. Thompson brought several of his fellow Nashville songwriters up north with him, and they were all quite good.
There was songwriter Kate York, whose clear voice and lovely tunes were captivating even with no accompaniment. "It Rains Here Too" may be the prettiest sad song I've heard in years. Brooke Wagonner played a set of Regina Spektor-ish piano pop, quirky and dramatic. And the Farewell Drifters showed off their chops - they're a bluegrass band (two guitars, stand-up bass, mandolin and fiddle) that plays well-written pop songs with great harmonies. Well worth checking out.
The Wayside closed out the New Nashville portion of the program, playing a selection from their new one, Spiritual Songs. Very nice stuff, traditional and church-y, but well-arranged. I must confess, though, I ducked out for a bit before the Wayside took the stage, to go see metal maniacs Sacred Warrior. I used to listen to them back in my teenage metalhead days, and their brand of Queensryche-esque rock still made me smile.
So even though the Choir show wasn't all it could have been, today's lineup was a good one. Tomorrow I get to close this whole thing out with Over the Rhine, and I can't think of anything better. Wait, no, I can - sleeping for six or seven hours straight. I think I'll try that. Check back here to see if I was successful.
I woke up at about 8:30 a.m., because that's just what I do - I haven't slept past 8:30 in ages. I couldn't get back to slumberland, so today I did 12 hours of music on four hours of sleep. You'll forgive me if I keep this brief, although I don't really think I will.
I'm going to say this as plainly as I can: the reason I got out of bed this morning at all was the Choir. I've been a fan for 20 years, and I've seen them play four times now. The last time was in 2005, which, sadly enough, was the last time they reconvened on stage. So after a half-decade of no Choir shows, I was pretty stoked for tonight's late-night performance.
I've been upfront about my absence of faith, but here's one thing I will say: every time I get to see the Choir play, I thank God I'm alive. For one thing, it's such a rare occurrence, and for another, every show may well be the last. And for a third, the Choir spins such a magical atmosphere each time out, it's like living through a particularly vivid dream. I remember my first Choir concert, in 2001, after 11 years of listening to their records over and over again. I could scarcely believe it was happening - here were these people I'd only seen in photographs, playing this music I love intensely right in front of me. Magic.
If I ever needed confirmation that my heroes are human, tonight provided it. I don't want to say this, but tonight was a bad Choir show. The band clearly hadn't practiced much, and there were wrong notes galore, shifting tempos, forgotten lyrics, and a couple of spectacular flameouts. They tried to get through three new songs (from their wonderful new album Burning Like the Midnight Sun), and watched helplessly as they fell apart. The set was heavy on their twin high water marks Chase the Kangaroo and Circle Slide, and featured songs this band has been playing for 20 years. And yet, in Derri Daugherty's own words, it was rough.
Despite all that, I still enjoyed myself. Watching these guys play is always fun, and these songs are so permanently etched into my soul that even a bad performance couldn't spoil them. I feel lucky to have seen this show, and lucky to be a fan of this band. And the hundreds who gathered to watch the Choir's return to the gallery stage all seemed to feel the same way. This is our band, and if they have an off night, we'll help them through it. We love them. Tonight of all nights, we love them.
And every time I get to hear them play that bit in the middle of "Circle Slide," when they all just start making as much pretty noise as they can for as long as they can, my heart sings. "Circle Slide" was magnificent tonight. It's the kind of song that lifts you up and twirls you around, higher and higher. I wish the entire show had been as good, but hey, I got to see the Choir play one more time. I'm very lucky.
Also, I can console myself by listening to Burning Like the Midnight Sun over and over again. I'll have a more detailed review in this week's tm3am column, but I'll just say this: for the second time in a row, they've made their best album since Circle Slide.
I expected the rest of my day would be long and boring while I waited for the Choir to play. But I took in some superb performances today, and discovered some new favorites. Today's gallery stage lineup was assembled by John Thompson of the Wayside, formerly of Aurora, Illinois and now of Nashville. Thompson brought several of his fellow Nashville songwriters up north with him, and they were all quite good.
There was songwriter Kate York, whose clear voice and lovely tunes were captivating even with no accompaniment. "It Rains Here Too" may be the prettiest sad song I've heard in years. Brooke Wagonner played a set of Regina Spektor-ish piano pop, quirky and dramatic. And the Farewell Drifters showed off their chops - they're a bluegrass band (two guitars, stand-up bass, mandolin and fiddle) that plays well-written pop songs with great harmonies. Well worth checking out.
The Wayside closed out the New Nashville portion of the program, playing a selection from their new one, Spiritual Songs. Very nice stuff, traditional and church-y, but well-arranged. I must confess, though, I ducked out for a bit before the Wayside took the stage, to go see metal maniacs Sacred Warrior. I used to listen to them back in my teenage metalhead days, and their brand of Queensryche-esque rock still made me smile.
So even though the Choir show wasn't all it could have been, today's lineup was a good one. Tomorrow I get to close this whole thing out with Over the Rhine, and I can't think of anything better. Wait, no, I can - sleeping for six or seven hours straight. I think I'll try that. Check back here to see if I was successful.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Cornerstone Festival, Day One
Gentle readers, I am bone tired.
I decided last year that I am just too old for all-day music festivals. This is a hard pill to swallow, but Lollapalooza really did me in last summer. Cornerstone, the annual Jesus People USA party in Bushnell, IL (roughly three hours from my house), is smaller and easier, but 13 hours of sun and music still took its toll on me today. Don't get old. It's depressing.
So if I'd already decided I was too ancient and decrepit for this sort of thing, why am I at Cornerstone this year? Well, that's where the corollaries to the "too old" rule come into play. If enough stars align, enough top-of-the-heap acts turn up on the roster, I'll be in. I'm too much of an obsessive fan to do anything else. Lollapalooza and Pitchfork seemed like total wastes of time this year, but Cornerstone... well, three big stars aligned, plus my friend Jeff Elbel agreed to split the cost of a hotel room, so here I am.
It's been five years since I ventured out to Cornerstone Farm, a giant field in the middle of nowhere. In 2005, my response was mixed - I loved the music, but railed against the odd and all-pervasive commercialism, the Jesus-peddling I saw everywhere. I'm not sure if the fest has changed, or if I've mellowed out, but what struck me this time is just how cool Cornerstone is. It's a non-stop hippie party, the kind of festival at which people leave their bags on their seats to mark them, unafraid that anything will be stolen. There's a bike park, there's a grocery store, there are campers and tents and RVs everywhere, and the overall vibe is just fun.
When I was a kid in Massachusetts, discovering all this cool music that no one I knew had ever heard of (The Choir, Daniel Amos, the Prayer Chain, etc.), I thought of Cornerstone as this magical faraway land I would likely never get to visit. I still think it's kind of magical, even though I live here now, and this is my third time. The feeling is just different. Attendance is down this year, the merch tents are dark and dispiriting places, and some people I talked to are certain that Cornerstone is petering out. But still, everyone's just happy to be there, and to hear music they can't hear anywhere else.
As much as I try to say that I'm just in it for the music, I know it's not true. I listen to this stuff, and I come to this festival, to confront my own faith, or lack thereof, and to see the world through the prism of these fascinating artists, if only for a little while. I'm not interested in simple declarations of faith - I could go to the main stage for that, if I wanted to, but I don't. TobyMac makes me want to run away screaming. But I'm also not interested in avoiding the topic, either. As a man with a very abstract spiritualism (and virtually no religious tendencies), I want faith presented to me in new ways, ones that will make me think about it and consider my own beliefs.
While watching the Glenn Kaiser Band play the Gallery Stage today, I thought about this little corner of the music world, and how it's perceived. Glenn Kaiser is easily one of the best blues guitarists in Chicago, if not the country. Why don't you know who he is? Well, Glenn preaches. A lot. His set is about 50% killer blues riffing, and 50% talking - this time, he spoke about how Christians should get out of their churches and help their neighbors, a topic well worth visiting, in my view.
If Glenn stopped his preaching and just played, he wouldn't be true to himself. But because he's true to himself, no one knows how good he is. It's very strange to me. Admittedly, Glenn Kaiser can be a lot to take in all at once, but if there's any act on the festival bill that should be too Jesus-y for me, it's him. And I loved listening to his set this afternoon. His perspective is not my perspective, but I enjoy hearing it, and imagining the world through his eyes.
But let's talk about those aligning stars, before I collapse from exhaustion. I said three of them lined up for me (and I think three is the minimum it would take to get me to this fest), and two of them played today. The first is, of course, the Lost Dogs, that spiritual pop supergroup of Mike Roe, Terry Taylor, Derri Daugherty and Steve Hindalong, four guys I've been listening to since I was 16 years old.
The Dogs actually played throughout the day, in various combinations. Roe started things off with an acoustic set full of the old gospel and blues songs he's been fascinated by recently. I've said it before, but give me Mike Roe and an acoustic guitar, and I'll be happy for hours. Taylor then took to the stage for a trio set (with Roe on bass and Hindalong on drums) that flipped through some of his more obscure back pages. (He actually played "I Had a Bad Experience With the CIA and Now I'm Gonna Show You My Feminine Side." I would have been happy if he'd merely said the title from the Cornerstone stage.)
Roe and Daugherty then did a set of covers and oldies, which was nice. Daugherty, who sings with the Choir, has a high and clear voice, while Roe's is more typical bluesman, more rough than smooth. Together they sounded elegant. The highlight, for me, was "Dunce Cap," my favorite Lost Dogs song, and one I'd never heard live.
The Dogs then played a full-on rock and roll set at 10 p.m., and man, it was great. Their new album, Old Angel, is an absolute masterpiece, and it seems to have revitalized these aging troubadours. Every second of their set rippled with energy. Hindalong remains the most entertaining drummer on the planet to watch - his facial expressions are priceless - and the rapport between the four of them is at an all-time high.
The second of my stars tonight was Iona, a five-piece from the U.K. I've been listening to Iona for almost 20 years now, and I've never seen them live before. It was amazing. I don't know how to describe Iona. They're like Celtic folk prog rock, like Rush jamming with Enya, and it sounds horrible, but it works brilliantly. 15-minute songs based on Celtic prayers with unison bagpipe and electric guitar solos, all capped off with the lovely voice of Joanne Hogg. They were great.
And you want to know why I consider Cornerstone magical? Try this. At 1:30 in the morning, Iona closed out their main set with a piece called "Castlerigg," kind of an Irish jig on Jolt Cola. Even after 12 solid hours of music, everyone in the place - hundreds of people - got up and started dancing. It was pure joy in motion, and an awesome thing to be a part of.
Some stray observations and notes:
My roommate Jeff Elbel played another strong set of tunes with his ever-expansive band Ping - nine musicians this time. Several new songs, all of them good. Jeff also manages the gallery stage, where all the acts I saw today played, and he gets precious little thanks or sleep for the privilege. He's much more tired than I am right now, and I'm pretty much wiped out.
The discovery of the festival so far is Shel, a band I was ready to laugh off. Four teenage sisters (drums, piano, mandolin and violin) backed up by their father on guitar. Sounds awful, right? But they were awesome. They played complex folk-rock, harmonized beautifully (especially on the more bizarre numbers), and capped it off with a cover of Led Zeppelin's "The Battle of Evermore." I was impressed.
The cafe near the Gallery Stage has a lemonade-and-iced-tea blend drink for sale. It's called a Robert Palmer. That's right, Robert Palmer, not Arnold. So I asked the kid behind the counter why, and he grinned and replied, "Because it's simply irresistible."
Okay, to sleep with me. Tomorrow is the third of my three stars, the Choir, perhaps my favorite band on earth. More musings on faith and art to follow. Check back here early Friday morning for the next installment.
I decided last year that I am just too old for all-day music festivals. This is a hard pill to swallow, but Lollapalooza really did me in last summer. Cornerstone, the annual Jesus People USA party in Bushnell, IL (roughly three hours from my house), is smaller and easier, but 13 hours of sun and music still took its toll on me today. Don't get old. It's depressing.
So if I'd already decided I was too ancient and decrepit for this sort of thing, why am I at Cornerstone this year? Well, that's where the corollaries to the "too old" rule come into play. If enough stars align, enough top-of-the-heap acts turn up on the roster, I'll be in. I'm too much of an obsessive fan to do anything else. Lollapalooza and Pitchfork seemed like total wastes of time this year, but Cornerstone... well, three big stars aligned, plus my friend Jeff Elbel agreed to split the cost of a hotel room, so here I am.
It's been five years since I ventured out to Cornerstone Farm, a giant field in the middle of nowhere. In 2005, my response was mixed - I loved the music, but railed against the odd and all-pervasive commercialism, the Jesus-peddling I saw everywhere. I'm not sure if the fest has changed, or if I've mellowed out, but what struck me this time is just how cool Cornerstone is. It's a non-stop hippie party, the kind of festival at which people leave their bags on their seats to mark them, unafraid that anything will be stolen. There's a bike park, there's a grocery store, there are campers and tents and RVs everywhere, and the overall vibe is just fun.
When I was a kid in Massachusetts, discovering all this cool music that no one I knew had ever heard of (The Choir, Daniel Amos, the Prayer Chain, etc.), I thought of Cornerstone as this magical faraway land I would likely never get to visit. I still think it's kind of magical, even though I live here now, and this is my third time. The feeling is just different. Attendance is down this year, the merch tents are dark and dispiriting places, and some people I talked to are certain that Cornerstone is petering out. But still, everyone's just happy to be there, and to hear music they can't hear anywhere else.
As much as I try to say that I'm just in it for the music, I know it's not true. I listen to this stuff, and I come to this festival, to confront my own faith, or lack thereof, and to see the world through the prism of these fascinating artists, if only for a little while. I'm not interested in simple declarations of faith - I could go to the main stage for that, if I wanted to, but I don't. TobyMac makes me want to run away screaming. But I'm also not interested in avoiding the topic, either. As a man with a very abstract spiritualism (and virtually no religious tendencies), I want faith presented to me in new ways, ones that will make me think about it and consider my own beliefs.
While watching the Glenn Kaiser Band play the Gallery Stage today, I thought about this little corner of the music world, and how it's perceived. Glenn Kaiser is easily one of the best blues guitarists in Chicago, if not the country. Why don't you know who he is? Well, Glenn preaches. A lot. His set is about 50% killer blues riffing, and 50% talking - this time, he spoke about how Christians should get out of their churches and help their neighbors, a topic well worth visiting, in my view.
If Glenn stopped his preaching and just played, he wouldn't be true to himself. But because he's true to himself, no one knows how good he is. It's very strange to me. Admittedly, Glenn Kaiser can be a lot to take in all at once, but if there's any act on the festival bill that should be too Jesus-y for me, it's him. And I loved listening to his set this afternoon. His perspective is not my perspective, but I enjoy hearing it, and imagining the world through his eyes.
But let's talk about those aligning stars, before I collapse from exhaustion. I said three of them lined up for me (and I think three is the minimum it would take to get me to this fest), and two of them played today. The first is, of course, the Lost Dogs, that spiritual pop supergroup of Mike Roe, Terry Taylor, Derri Daugherty and Steve Hindalong, four guys I've been listening to since I was 16 years old.
The Dogs actually played throughout the day, in various combinations. Roe started things off with an acoustic set full of the old gospel and blues songs he's been fascinated by recently. I've said it before, but give me Mike Roe and an acoustic guitar, and I'll be happy for hours. Taylor then took to the stage for a trio set (with Roe on bass and Hindalong on drums) that flipped through some of his more obscure back pages. (He actually played "I Had a Bad Experience With the CIA and Now I'm Gonna Show You My Feminine Side." I would have been happy if he'd merely said the title from the Cornerstone stage.)
Roe and Daugherty then did a set of covers and oldies, which was nice. Daugherty, who sings with the Choir, has a high and clear voice, while Roe's is more typical bluesman, more rough than smooth. Together they sounded elegant. The highlight, for me, was "Dunce Cap," my favorite Lost Dogs song, and one I'd never heard live.
The Dogs then played a full-on rock and roll set at 10 p.m., and man, it was great. Their new album, Old Angel, is an absolute masterpiece, and it seems to have revitalized these aging troubadours. Every second of their set rippled with energy. Hindalong remains the most entertaining drummer on the planet to watch - his facial expressions are priceless - and the rapport between the four of them is at an all-time high.
The second of my stars tonight was Iona, a five-piece from the U.K. I've been listening to Iona for almost 20 years now, and I've never seen them live before. It was amazing. I don't know how to describe Iona. They're like Celtic folk prog rock, like Rush jamming with Enya, and it sounds horrible, but it works brilliantly. 15-minute songs based on Celtic prayers with unison bagpipe and electric guitar solos, all capped off with the lovely voice of Joanne Hogg. They were great.
And you want to know why I consider Cornerstone magical? Try this. At 1:30 in the morning, Iona closed out their main set with a piece called "Castlerigg," kind of an Irish jig on Jolt Cola. Even after 12 solid hours of music, everyone in the place - hundreds of people - got up and started dancing. It was pure joy in motion, and an awesome thing to be a part of.
Some stray observations and notes:
My roommate Jeff Elbel played another strong set of tunes with his ever-expansive band Ping - nine musicians this time. Several new songs, all of them good. Jeff also manages the gallery stage, where all the acts I saw today played, and he gets precious little thanks or sleep for the privilege. He's much more tired than I am right now, and I'm pretty much wiped out.
The discovery of the festival so far is Shel, a band I was ready to laugh off. Four teenage sisters (drums, piano, mandolin and violin) backed up by their father on guitar. Sounds awful, right? But they were awesome. They played complex folk-rock, harmonized beautifully (especially on the more bizarre numbers), and capped it off with a cover of Led Zeppelin's "The Battle of Evermore." I was impressed.
The cafe near the Gallery Stage has a lemonade-and-iced-tea blend drink for sale. It's called a Robert Palmer. That's right, Robert Palmer, not Arnold. So I asked the kid behind the counter why, and he grinned and replied, "Because it's simply irresistible."
Okay, to sleep with me. Tomorrow is the third of my three stars, the Choir, perhaps my favorite band on earth. More musings on faith and art to follow. Check back here early Friday morning for the next installment.
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