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My freshman year of college I discovered a genre of music that I immediately took a shining too. Perhaps it was the fast pace. Perhaps it was the retro feeling. Perhaps it was how strong and awesome all of the women involved seemed. Something that took my love of early punk music and mashed it up with swinging sensations of rockabilly and giving me that guilty yet oh-so-good pleasure you get from watching B horror films. Psychobilly, the musical hybrid referred to as the "bastard genre of Rock n' Roll and the forgotten offspring of Punk," has a faster tempo and a much heavier sound than rockabilly and an upright base is usually substituted in lieu of a bass guitar.
The genesis of the term "psychobilly" seems to be in dispute as some attribute it to American band the Cramps (who have in the past denied actually being a psychobilly band, just a band that put the word on their flyers to get attention) and the English band the Meteors, though it seems the majority vote is for the Cramps, at least in terms of who coined the phrase first. Psychobilly's international growth occurred in three waves. The first wave started in Britain in the early 1980s and gave rise to the Meteors, whose fans invented slam dancing- what is now a major calling card of the genre- and other influential bands such as the Guana Batz. The second wave spread to Europe and gave rise to such psychobilly greats as Mad Sin and, one of my personal favorites, the Nekromantix. The third psychobilly wave reached the United States in the 1990s and really took off, especially popular amongst Southern California's Latin community.
Modern psychobilly is known for its experimental sounds, often expanding or moving away from the traditional sounds of its predecessors. At any psychobilly show one is likely to see circle pits filled with men with their hair shaved into quiffs or pompadours, wearing creepers. Women will often have big hair and wear hot rod influenced styles in bright neon patterns like leopard or tiger prints- picture a hipper, more colorful Elvira. If you go to a show expecting a low key rockabilly time, you're in for quite the surprise. As Tiger Army frontman Nick 13 would tell you, rockabilly and psychobilly are in the same family with rockabilly being the grandfather whose portrait you occasionally see hanging in the hallway of your parent's house.
Hasidic hip hop is a fascinating musical oddity, deriving from a peculiar conflation of location and circumstances. Several of these musicians have roots in Crown Heights, a crowded Brooklyn neighborhood which is a pressure-cooker of racial tension. Rebelling against the strict musical conventions of the Orthodox Jewish lifestyle, these musicians began creating music which borrowed heavily from the predominately African-American population around them. They incorporated elements of hip hop, rap, reggae, electronica, and jam band rock into their religious liturgy. Thus was born the amusingly incongruous image of bearded Hasidic Jews in traditional garb, beatboxing and busting out mesmerizing rhymes in English, Yiddish, Hebrew, and Aramaic. These artists have completely subverted the prevailing mentality of hip hop culture. Instead of singing about babes and bling, their lyrics are all about mysticism and spirituality. If there’s any allusion to romance, it’s only in the context of a love song addressed to God. Matisyahu, the principal avatar of the genre, started out as a curiosity on college radio. Since then he has achieved considerable mainstream success, including airtime on MTV and a modeling contract with Kenneth Cole. Now there's a new generation of singers hot on the heels of his success, the best of which is freestyling phenomenon Y-Love. While their brazen disregard for convention may outrage musical purists, Hasidic hip hop artists deserve praise for finding an utterly original source of inspiration in the antiquated melodies of Hasidic tradition and making them relevant to a wider audience.
Ed's Note: From loyal reader, to guest poster, to full-time contributor, please welcome to TVD Ms. Urban Gypsy who'll take the reins here this week with some rather off-kilter pairings for you to consider:
This week on TVD, we’re taking a look at some interesting examples of hybrid musical genres. What is a musical genre, anyway? Is there any reliable, rational way of classifying music into neat little categories? Music is such a pliable art form with so many influences and changing contexts that it’s impossible pin down every artist with a simple label. But genres can be useful, even if only as a system to organize albums at the record store. Some of the most interesting musical styles are created when the artist yanks together two or more radically different genres and melds them together into something totally innovative and inspired. We’d love to hear your comments on the music featured here this week. Do you agree with how we’ve described and classified this music? Did we miss one of your favorites or include someone who doesn’t deserve the mention? Let’s have some feedback!
First up on the agenda is what music writers call “freak folk,” though many of the musicians themselves prefer the term “naturalismo.” The weird dreamy music in this genre can fall anywhere along the continuum of “sweet and pleasant” to “fingernails on blackboard.” It’s rarely an easy listen, but once you’ve acquired a taste for it, you’ll wonder how you ever managed without it. When my friend Nechama first heard the voice of Joanna Newsom while listening to her ipod in a public washroom, she was so startled that she jumped up and banged her head on a metal shelf. This is a common response of first-time listeners to the eerie vocal stylings of these musicians, so consider yourself warned! If you persevere and overcome this barrier, you will enjoy the inventive use of unusual instrumentation, whimsical lyrics, and psychedelic yet folksy soundscapes this genre has to offer. The wacky postmodern flower-child lifestyle isn’t really my cup of tea, but what I love most about “freak folk” songs are the intensely poetic lyrics, often so masterful that they can stand as works of art on their own. At its best, “freak folk” transcends the sonic limits of good taste and borders on the sublime. Prepare to assail your ears and uplift your soul with these songs:
Who says we're not into diverse riddims here at TVD? Matt from Matt's Art Journey begs to differ and takes us on a bit of a tour: Crossing the Carribean First, I’d like to thank Jon for the chance to share my music favorites with everyone. Secondly, my thoughts are with the people of Texas whose lives are being impacted by Ike…most music I had listened to up until my 30’s had been from above 25 degrees North latitude. And then I met my wife Luisa who is from Colombia and I was exposed to a whole new world of sound. As a kid, Luisa memorized American lyrics not really knowing what most of the words meant. As of last Friday, Luisa is now an American citizen. Through her, I see that music reaches across borders and speaks, touches, unites.
I call this set, Crossing the Carribean, because the music selections are from select countries starting in Brazil and ending in the US.We begin with Berimbau, a bossa nova song that I found in St. Petersburg, Florida on a 33 vinyl, after a 10 year search. The short vocals near the song’s midpoint have a definite period sound of the early 1960’s. Alicia Adorada is written by Carlos Vives, a Colombian icon who is from the northern coast of Colombia. This tune is Vallenato music, which literally means ‘born in the valley’. In the days before mail delivery service in Colombia, villages along the coast would communicate through a carrier who would travel between towns delivering the news orally. Upon arrival to the neighboring village, the carrier would call out in a melody, “vallenato” to announce his presence. Fotografia is by Colombian musical legend, Juanes, and Nelly Furtado.
We head north to Jamaica and groove on the old school, roots rock reggae sounds of Party Times, Dubbing Sandra and the more recent Inchpinchers and I Love King Selassie. Dubbing Sandra brings me to a different space with the repetitive hypnotic rhythms… they seem to be suspended in time. Island hopping forward to Cuba, we hear Candela by the legendary members of the Buena Vista Social Club. This is classic Cuban song had it’s height in the 40’s. We make landfall in southern Louisiana, in what some call the northern rim of the Carribean. Like a Pot of Neckbones is a zydeco groove straight out of Southwest Louisiana. This is what you get when you musically mix the black and Creole cultures of southwestern Louisiana….listen closely for the washboard keeping time. Rounding out the night, we side step it east down interstate I-10 to New Orleans & get down with the funky groove of Galactic with “And I’m Out”. The New Orleans music scene seems to be a musical filter or focal point for the many musical styles of the Carribean.
My musical taste has always developed in a bubble, sealed off from whatever was stylish and popular among my peers. I first became conscious of this terminal uncoolness on one particular day in the fifth grade. Our teacher let us have the afternoon off for a pre-holiday party, and everyone was supposed to bring along some tunes. This posed a problem for me, as I owned none of my own. I loved music but I was ten years old and had no money to buy tapes or CDs. All I could listen to was the local radio station and whatever my father left lying around. He consumed music profligately, spending huge sums of money on rare imported albums, listening to them once or twice, and forgetting about them. This left me with a treasure trove of music way out of my age range for my personal listening pleasure. It was an outcome of this circumstance that I knew by heart the lyrics to Leonard Cohen and Ray Charles before I learned how to do long division. This fact didn’t endear me to my savvier peers, who worshipped Weird Al and the Spice Girls. Something told me my father’s castoff albums wouldn’t make the best soundtrack for a fifth-grade dance party, but I brought them anyway. I waited for a quiet moment to slip one of my cassettes into the tape player. Unfortunately, I had neglected to rewind it, and when I pressed play the tape picked up right in the middle of Elvis Presley’s “I Don’t Care If The Sun Don’t Shine.” All the fifth-graders shrieked in horror as Elvis belted out, “We’re-gonna-kiss-and-kiss-and-kiss-and-kiss-and-we’re-gonna-kiss-some-more.” I raced to switch it off, but it was too late. For the rest of the day (it felt like a year) I was shunned as the girl who ruined the whole party with the kissing song. I sat at my desk, sobbing silently into my sleeve, and my friend Dana put her arm around my shoulders. “Don’t worry,” she whispered comfortingly. “I don’t have any real music either, except for my old Barney tapes.” I would have traded my Charles Aznavour for her Barney any day. At least people knew how to pronounce his name. Close your eyes and imagine an earnest little girl with round glasses and messy braids, lying on the floor of her room with her ear pressed up against the speakers of her old-school boom box, listening to the following songs, and you’ll have a pretty accurate picture of what I was like growing up.
...and then there are the artists and bands who innately embody song-craft and tunefulness, melody and harmony, making the purposeful seem like happenstance--on each and every track on each and every LP. I simply can't sing the praises of The Posies any louder. And you should join me...
Brian Coates of The Great Northwest sits down with us for this week's First Date:
"I sat down to write a couple of paragraphs, and it was coming out all formal and technical-like. There were things that went-
"The Great Northwest records in a variety of places to force a feeling of newness with the stimulation of change. Each song is influenced by the feelings experienced in the new space, and when all are assembled as a collection it affects one who listens to travel in a cohesive trip."
It felt rudimentary and lacking in style, though it was describing the actual sentiments properly.
It was an hour before I was to submit it, so I was rushed by the desire to really get a point across the way I'd wish for one to understand it, though more elegantly.
I had a smoke and relaxed.
I realized that simply saying that the Great Northwest records to play, plays to travel, and travels to record sums it up.
Ironically, the execution of the task of writing this is EXACTLY the way we record."
I could think of three DC-based reasons why Bones and TVD would be a good fit when the Bones/TVD Prize Package was first proposed: 1. Once when I was indeed watching Bones, Agent Booth and Dr. "Bones" Brennan were actually dodging bullets in Adams Morgan which, as we know if you're a local, isn't a stretch. 2. DC's own Thievery Corporation are behind a remix of Sarah Mclachlan's 'Dirty Little Secret' on the Soundtrack and 3. ...well, they said they'd toss in a pair of Stereophonics tickets for Thursday night at the 9:30 for the grand prize winner. (That's right, TVD: looking out for your good time.)
So, we proudly present the Bones/TVD Prize Package for which there will be two, count 'em, two winners. The grand prize winner gets the Stereophonics tickets for this Thursday night (9/11), the Bones Soundtrack CD, a Bones T-Shirt, and a bunch of other, random Bones swag, rumored to contain Bones Pens and/or Bones Computer Cleaner. (Really.) The runner-up will get all the same stuff, minus the tickets. And it happens to be a pretty cool soundtrack they've assembled...So, pull yourself away from the TV a moment and leave a comment in the lil' comments box as to why you should be front and center when Kelly and the boys hit DC, OR just how much you're in love with Bones--and we'll choose a winner by Noon on Thursday.
Does anyone think for one moment that after his success with his previous combo (...name escapes me?) that Lennon would rest on his MBE-returning laurels, knock out a few radio friendly singles, and fill the rest of his first proper solo outing with well, crap? Indeed, no. In fact, just the opposite:
I had a whole post written up about the glories of 'Grace' ...but ...suffice it to say it was the proverbial game changer. Go ask Thom Yorke. Or Chris Martin, or...y'know - hell with that. Just listen (to everything BUT the singles...)
I was over at Orpheus Records the weekend before last and the inevitable was occurring since their announced closing a number of months back--the bins themselves were being broken down to be removed and sold. A coupla' kids from Richmond were up to cart the things down south for a store they're opening.
There's still plenty of vinyl in the store however and one of the guys up north for the bins who had never been to Orpheus before was flipping through the vinyl like a punker in a candy store and enthused "wow - there's so much vinyl in this place!" And Rick, Orpheus proprietor for 31 years now, replied that he should have been by 8 weeks ago if he really wanted to see vinyl in volume. And for the first time in all my visits since the going-out-of-business months, I heard a genuine sadness and resignation in Rick's tone.
In a fit of irony, I've often laughed that I chose the wrong time to be behind a music blog because my opinion of the music industry and 90% of its denizens is well, rather low. I mean, the cream should rise to the top, right? And if that's the case, scanning the Billboard Hot 100, or viewing just a half hour of the MTV Music Awards as I did last evening is enough to think that the cream ain't coming at ALL these days. Zee-ro.
The days of the career artist are entirely, completely over, although the writing has been on the wall for some time now. It's currently a singles-dominated business where personalities loom far larger than the substance of one or two measly downloaded singles. Sure, Katy Perry had the single of the summer, but does anyone want to hear a full album from Ms. Cherry Chapstick? Yep, The Ting Tings nicked a tasty Blondie riff for their straight to iPod TV commercial, but have you HEARD their full release? Of course not, it's awful. Even one time 'career artists' such as Aerosmith and The Smashing Pumpkins are themselves debuting new material on Rock Band for the Xbox360 eschewing the whole notion that they just MIGHT still have a full LP up their sleeves. Embarrassing.
Putting the needle down on the first tack and listening to the very end used to be so commonplace it hardly bears mentioning. So, this week, TVD's going to give the finger to the single and delve into what FM/Album Oriented Rock stations used to call 'deep cuts' cuz, well, they used to just as worthwhile as the 45 that heralded a new release. And they were purchased in stores, such as Rick's, that fostered creativity and community. (And we're tossing this in the name of downloaded convenience?)
I played 'Fat Bottomed Girls' and 'Bicycle Race' to death, but the rest of the record got just as much of a workout if not more, really. (Don't get me started on the poster.)
I think it bears repeating that this Friday feature, the newly re-christened 'Parting Shots' is YOUR forum, TVD reader. It's the spot where you get to talk back to us and to the world at large via ye olde internets. A mere mention of this to Ms. Urban Gypsy--she of the almost brand new Retro Kino--had my in-box almost immediately abuzz with Mp3's and:
"This has been an amazing week. Two of my biggest dreams have come true. One is making a guest appearance on TVD (thanks, Jon!) and the other is finally finishing my novel. After ten months of agony, I got my first draft printed up yesterday. Jon said I could write about what I'm into these days, and what I've got on my mind is the intersection between music and literature. At first glance, there may not seem to be much. Music requires instruments, a playback device, a venue, or a live audience. Literature requires a pen or word processor and lots of solitude. But there is more cross-pollination going on between the art forms than first meets the eye.
For myself, I can say that when I'm writing, I rely on my music collection far more than on my thesaurus. The right song at the right moment is the greatest form of inspiration a writer could hope for. It tickles the cerebrum and opens up the soul. Putting my mp3 player on shuffle and waiting to see what comes up could yield a long-buried memory, the perfect word to describe an image, an interesting name for a character, or just the right title. Music literally transports you out of your surroundings and deposits you in a different place and time, an invaluable help when constructing fictional worlds. Best of all, my headphones keep me company when I'm typing at four o'clock in the morning and my house starts making creepy noises.
Here is a mix of ten songs which run the gamut of my writing experience, from faltering beginnings to the glorious finish. Without further ado, please join me in saying goodbye to my summer of typing and welcoming me back to the real world."
My mp3 collection totals around 12,000 songs. I acknowledge the ridiculousness of having that many songs and no time to listen to them but it's nice to put them on shuffle and hear songs I haven't heard since I was 18. And some songs come around in the shuffle that I love, and, occasionally, some songs that I hate (but juuuust can't delete). Normally in a shuffle I'll listen to one or two songs and then another will come along and I'll skip over it. Today, however, all 5 were songs that I would listen to in a row.
It's a shame how the rise in popularity of the ipod has caused music for many to become impersonal, leaving the fun of things like mix tapes (and, if you're of my generation, CDs) in the technological dust. I remember being a sophomore in high school and this senior, Travis who was quirky and smart in that nerd-in-a-movie way in which none of the girls really noticed him, but regretted it years later after he became a successful writer/artist/musician/earthworm wrangler, recorded a mix tape (that I was to supply) for me. Side note: The cassette, "borrowed" from my younger brother, was originally the story of Paul Bunyan as read by Jonathan Winters. I had to choose between that or one of my dad's Hall and Oates cassettes. I think I went with Paul Bunyan because it seemed there would be less chance of getting made fun of for a book on tape than toting around a tape of some mustachioed male 80s duo in my backpack. Upon returning it, Travis had written things like "Babe the Blue Ox hearts Pavement," which I thought was oh so rad.
I cherished that tape and played it a million times partially because I thought Travis was totally cute and knowledgeable about all things cool, but also because it was the first time anyone had given me a mix tape (unless you count the Vanilla Ice and NKOTB tapes my friends and I bootlegged for each other when I was 8) and I loved all of the music it exposed me to. I then spent the rest of my time in high school, on into college, perfecting my very own mix tape formula. Now, it seems, possibly due to busyness and/or laziness, I settle for the occasional iMix or just setting my tunes on shuffle. Modern technology may have the ability to put thousands and thousands of songs in one place, but it never gives me that rush of joy like when I popped that first mix tape into the player.
A number of years ago I was in the audience at a Finn Brothers gig over at the 9:30. A superb, albeit proper show was frequently interrupted by a much younger Liam and his brother, high up on the dressing room balcony overlooking the stage, sailing paper airplanes down over the band in mid-performance. So, if it's to be that fine, nuanced, and melodic songwriting and performance is a Finn Family hallmark, much like the paper airplanes sent sailing down from the rafters, Liam tosses in his own air of unpredictability in a live setting--fidgeting with often abused notion of 'one guy and a guitar'.
From Liam's press bio: During his raucous yet intimate performances Liam utilizes effects pedals to create, sample and loop bass, guitar, drums and vocals to layer with his live vocals and guitar. Pre-programmed flourishes, also keyed live by Finn, gurgle under his sharp, addictive melodies to produce experimental pop music that is simultaneously ghostly and direct in its atmospherics and emotionalism. Being responsible for all the sound flowing from the stage is inevitably risky, but it's a risk in which the youngster relishes. "I think the fact of doing this looping, one-man-band sort of thing really keeps you on your toes and keeps it fresh. The more you mess up, the more you're forced to turn it into a good mess and people seem to respond more. I find it really stimulating. I just love the danger of it, really." As one might assume, a Liam Finn show is by no means the seated, shh-inducing coffee house affair many solo singer-songwriter performances can be. It's actually the antithesis. Finn drops fuzzed out guitar riffs, bellows bass lines and thunders on his drum kit like a punk rock caveman. When asked the philosophy behind this approach Liam remarks, "Whenever I walk in and see just a guy and a guitar, I think 'Here we go again.' I want to give people something different."
So, I'm thinking it's a pretty safe bet that the show the night before in Philly will bear just a tiny resemblance to the show the following night right here in DC--for which Liam and TVD are offering a pair of tickets and a copy of Liam's debut CD (they're out of the vinyl, I asked...) "I'll Be Lightning" to one lucky winner.
The aforementioned winner will be the lucky commenter who can touch on something truly wondrous and utterly unpredictable that has occurred to him or her at a live show--and we won't look the other way if it happens to be sordid and/or scandalous. (That's a good night out, right?) And if you can work in some Liam love too along the way, we won't call it predictable at all.
Unfog those memories and let us have 'em. We'll choose a winner next Friday--9/5!
I'd like to thank all of the commenters who responded to my inquiry regarding the downloads from TVD. For now, given the feedback, I imagine things will stay pretty much as is. The one exception might be posting three instead of five Mp3s for newer releases that are readily available. I'm also heartened to know that TVD is indeed a promotional resource and is being used as such, more or less...
And lastly...the Liam Finn contest ends in 24 hours and we've still got tickets and a CD to give away...say hello to us and snap 'em up! Now, on to some more iPod randomness...
FADE IN: INT:Fancy Bar in Downtown, D.C. THE VINYL DISTRICT sits alone at a table, anxiously checking his hair in the silverware. MEREDITH enters through the front door, looks around before heading to the table.
MEREDITH: Damn traffic…
TVD: (confused) Sorry, I’m waiting for someone.
MEREDITH: I know… First Date, right?
TVD: Meredith?
MEREDITH: Yeah.
(Awkward pause)
MEREDITH (CONT’D): I’m a guy.
TVD: I just assumed…
MEREDITH: Easy mistake.
TVD: Yeah.
MEREDITH: You’re disappointed.
TVD: No, no, no.
(THE VINYL DISTRICT pushes a bouquet of flowers under his chair with his foot.)
MEREDITH: I brought you something.
(Reaching in his jacket pocket, MEREDITH pulls out two mp3s.)
MEREDITH (CONT’D): I made them myself… with help from Chad Clark and TJ Lipple from Silver Sonya.
TVD: Oh, great.
MEREDITH: It’s nothing really. They come from my newest record Silver Sonya. All the sounds on it were made from either an acoustic guitar or my voice, but Chad and TJ manipulated them in the studio to see what sort of sounds we could create. People seem to like it.
TVD: Well, I love songs.
MEREDITH: (blushing) I bet you say that to all the D.C. area indie-acoustic singer-songwriters.
TVD: Pretty much. What are they about?
MEREDITH: That one is called “Ballad of an Opportunist” -- which is pretty self-explanatory -- and “My Absent Will” is about dream ethics. The title is taken from a French contemporary of Freud.
TVD: Oh, you speak French?
MEREDITH: No… I just spend a lot of time on the Internet.
TVD: Huh. Well, look at the time. I guess I’ll see you around.
MEREDITH: I’m playing the Black Cat on the 16th of this month with Miracle Fortress and Title Tracks. Maybe we can see each other again?
TVD: Sure.
(THE VINYL DISTRICT quickly walks out of the bar.)
If you've ever said to yourself, "I dig The Vinyl District and all...but WTF is up with all this crap about VINYL?" ...I'll direct you to the video below that landed in my inbox this morning--which just so happened to coincide with a rather neat purchase made last weekend at the STILL hanging on Orpheus Records. CD's and Mp3's don't hold a candle to all of that artistry and craftsmanship on display. Made me start a blog, it did.
My freshman year of college I discovered a genre of music that I immediately took a shining too. Perhaps it was the fast pace. Perhaps it was the retro feeling. Perhaps it was how strong and awesome all of the women involved seemed. Something that took my love of early punk music and mashed it up with swinging sensations of rockabilly and giving me that guilty yet oh-so-good pleasure you get from watching B horror films. Psychobilly, the musical hybrid referred to as the "bastard genre of Rock n' Roll and the forgotten offspring of Punk," has a faster tempo and a much heavier sound than rockabilly and an upright base is usually substituted in lieu of a bass guitar. 
