Kenny Roby leads a host of Carolina bands turning to country sounds and storytelling for inspiration again

Kenny Roby. Photo by Sandlin Gaither.

Like pilgrims to hallowed ground, they come to country music by many roads: via the vintage catalogs of forebears Carter, Cash and Williams, and through earlier generations of punk rockers like X, Jason & the Scorchers or Social Distortion, who found like-minded kin in outlaws Waylon, Willie and Merle. Some arrive via Exile on Main St., or the dope-smokin’, nudie suit longhairs of the 60s and early 70s; others were sent by CCR, Doug Sahm or Uncle Tupelo. Some came via canyons Topanga and Laurel, others from “Up On Cripple Creek” or “Tecumseh Valley.”

Still others get there in more idiosyncratic ways. An 8-year-old gets hooked on television’s The Monkees, falls for Mike Nesmith’s twangy pop, and eventually builds a honky tonk catalog to rival his heroes; two brothers hear the unspoken links between the Louvin Brothers and Big Star harmonies and their tragic songs of life, and form a “rural rock” band; a bisexual Southern woman puts aside her early disgust and decides to reclaim what is just as much her musical heritage.

Naturally, many come via the Carolinas’ own rich legacy: Charlie Poole’s Piedmont country blues, the old time-y protest songs of textile mill workers, or Appalachian bluegrass. And, increasingly, younger generations arrive courtesy of the state’s mid-90s status as an alt-country epicenter thanks to Whiskeytown and the Backsliders, Lou Ford and Jolene, 6 String Drag and the Two Dollar Pistols.

Whatever the routes and results, one thing seems certain: In rock’s eternal cycles, whenever synthesizers and dance beats pile up in popular music, the pendulum will swing back to the music’s blues and country roots in new and (hopefully) interesting forms. Judging by a bevy of new and upcoming Carolina releases, that’s happening again. From the Overmountain Men’s trad narratives and Mount Moriah’s countrified folk-rock to The Dead Tongue’s cowboy garage, JKutchma & the Five Fifth’s twanged-up punk angst, and Kenny Roby’s luscious countrypolitan textures, the needle’s pointed at rock’s country roots once again. Throw in a generation waiting in the wings — from Charlotte-via-Rock Hill outfit Elonzo and the Queen City’s more raucous Pullman Strike to Pittsboro honky tonkers Sara Shook & the Devil Music and Columbia’s Say Brother — and you’ve got the nascent makings of a movement.

“I’ve been doing it so long you kind of tell when it seems like you’re out there alone in the weeds, as opposed to where there are more groups doing it,” says 43-year-old John Howie Jr., whose Two Dollar Pistols have morphed into the more countrypolitan honky tonk of John Howie Jr. and the Rosewood Bluff. “It seems like there are more bands to play with right now, and that’s kind of the main way I judge it. It’s really cool to hear people in their 20s talk about Hank Williams right now — I’m always excited when that happens.”

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Fundamentalists might blanch at the suggestion that Kenny Roby’s first record in seven years, the remarkable Memories & Birds, would be considered country-rock at all. And it’s true, “Me and the Monkey,” with its skeletal beats and minimalist arrangements, or the clarinet blurts and widescreen string textures of the haunting hit-man-on-the-run epic “Colorado,” don’t fit the traditionalist’s bill. For every slide guitar and countrypolitan string section, there’s a Randy Newman-esque orchestration or Nick Cave-like ballad pulling the music in other directions.

But then, orthodoxy does what it usually does; ignores the more interesting gray areas and winds up missing the point entirely. Because the defining characteristic of — and descriptor for — Piedmont country-rock cited by almost every artist interviewed for this story is eclecticism. For Roby, who’s seen this wheel roll around more than once now and was, via 6 String Drag’s 1997 breakthrough High Hat, a key spoke in one of its revolutions, all roads lead to the same origins.

“It went from simple chords, punk rock and straight rock & roll mixed with these country influences, to pushing it backwards,” says Roby. “Now I’m going to get more lush and start doing some of those arrangements on the slicker side, or the more metropolitan side of the country equation. Which I love.”

Like many disparate songwriters pegged to the post-Nirvana marketing tag “alternative-country,” Roby came to High Hat’s honky-tonk rock via punk after fronting the Lubricators as a teenager. That particular synergy — country music Hall of Fame songwriter Harlan Howard called it “three chords and the truth” — attracted Roby then, and remains a bridge for others now.

“That’s what drew me into that kind of stuff, was bands like the Uncle Tupelo incorporating it — ‘that’s cool, they kind of tie it into the same stuff that I like’ — and that’s why they did resonate with people,” Roby says. “It’s just simple music and trusting your feelings. Just like the blues, for people who don’t seem to have another outlet.”

The outlaw status of many country titans still seduces musicians who’ve grown up with defiance as a sin qua non. The hurdle, of course, is getting past the CMT/Music Row/Clear Channel death grip on country music. But while more pervasive now, it’s not that different from earlier country eras when Hank Williams, Willie Nelson or Buck Owens succeeded on their own terms by turning away from Nashville’s dictates. For fans of those songwriters, those legends turn out to be, well, punk as fuck.

“Punk rock is an idea,” says former Lou Ford co-leader Chad Edwards, who along with older brother Alan and band is finishing the first Loudermilks record, another iteration of their band namesake (the Louvin Brothers, nee Loudermilks) blended with Alex Chilton’s minor-key cynicism. “It’s not a ‘sound’ or a ‘look.’ Buck Owens didn’t need Nashville to tell him how to be a star, he made himself one, in sequinned pants and a bolero jacket. Punk rock.”

Supplementing the simplicity of three chords and trad country’s outsider strain are the stories, which might be country’s greatest legacy. The legend, retold by writer Nat Hentoff, goes that jazz giant Charlie Parker, when confronted by baffled bandmates about his fondness for country music in an era when it was associated with Jim Crow, replied, “Just listen to the stories.” For rockers attracted to the lonesome whine of a pedal steel or a fiddler’s reel, those human narratives about love, loss, weakness, hard times and redemption wind up being equally seductive.

Kutchma says that as his songwriting matured with his punk outfit Red Collar, the nuance of country’s murder ballads and love songs started to trump the “on the nose” nature of too many punk lyrics. When unforeseen circumstances sidelined Red Collar a few years back, Kutchma went out solo and saw his songwriting morph even more into storytelling. When he turned to record his solo songs, the country accents — such as Nathan Golub’s pedal steel — entered the equation organically.

“No matter what point you look at country music, no matter what they do with it, its defining thing is you can always understand what they’re saying, and they all tell stories,” says Kutchma, who’s putting the finishing touches on the Five Fifths’ follow-up to 2012’s country-tinged Pastoral. “What other genre can you say that consistently about?”

For Bob Crawford, who most recognize as one of the non-Avetts in The Avett Brothers, working with Charlotte’s hidden gem David Childers in the Overmountain Men is all about the storytelling. Crawford believes there’s a strict line between the bluegrass legacy that served as the Avetts’ foundation and the country that informs what he’s playing with Childers on Overmountain records, including the recently released The Next Best Thing.

“If I say to Dave, ‘let’s write a song about Alexander Hamilton,’ he’s game,” Crawford says. “I can’t say to Scott and Seth (Avett), ‘let’s write a song about Martin Van Buren.’ They’re going to look at me like I’m crazy — which I am. David can take something and make it intimate — he’s the guy who could open up the newspaper and write five songs, and you would think that he’d lived every single one of them.”

For Charlotte’s Elonzo, whose 2012 LP Salt in the Wound. Flesh on the Bone still features plenty of the band’s prior twang, lead singer and songwriter Jeremy Davis says he still finds inspiration in what he grew up listening to in rural South Carolina.

“My family were farmers who listened to country music,” he says. “I just want to take whatever seems the most natural and do that, and I want that to be what my record sounds like. I think that maybe that ideal comes from that kind of environment, and the music was at least part of that.” Still, there’s an immense gulf between Hank Williams singing about cheatin’ hearts or the Carter Family chronicling a drunkard’s lowest moment and Kenny Chesney and Tim McGraw wanting to “Feel Like a Rock Star” or Lady
Antebellum air-brushing country into vapid pop. And for many young rockers who first hear country via the current Music Row flavor du jour, that gap can seem unbridgeable.

“It just wasn’t cool to listen to country music during my teenage years,” says BJ Barham, frontman for American Aquarium, a band who make no secret of the influential role 90s alt-country had on their sound, including their latest release, 2012’s Burn. Flicker. Die. “From the ages of 13 to 16, I ran from country music. Pop radio and hip-hop took over.”

As he got older, though, Barham expanded his listening beyond radio and whatever CDs Walmart stocked. He discovered seminal recordings by Whiskeytown, Uncle Tupelo and, most crucially he says, the Backsliders. Hearing that band’s 1996 live EP, From Raleigh, North Carolina sparked Barham’s move from rural Reidsville to Raleigh, and the formation of American Aquarium followed.

“Those bands broke the mold I had set for what a ‘country’ band had to be,” he explains. “It taught me that I could love rock & roll and still be a country songwriter.”

For Kutchma, the hurdle was even steeper. First exposed as a youngster through television shows like Hee Haw and Barbara Mandrel and The Mandrell Sisters Show, nothing Kutchma heard there sparked any interest. By the 90s, disinterest had gelled into distaste.

“In the 90s, I fucking despised it — I wasn’t in the mind-set of doing any research with this stuff,” Kutchma says. “Whatever was on the radio or what the popular culture listened to, I assumed that was the way it is, and that there was no underground. So the Billy Ray Cyrus, Shania Twain stuff — all these corny cheese balls — I went, ‘fuck country music, fuck what it’s become.’”

But for some, even the orthodoxy of 90s alt-country was off-putting. Howie Jr.’s “road to Damascus,” as he puts it, may have been paved by seeing one of the Backsliders’ early-90s shows, but the genre’s quick slide into “authenticity” bragging rights was a turn-off. The new arbiters of what comprised “real country-rock” — DJs, journalists and other musicians —even pushed Howie Jr. away from Michael Nesmith, The Monkees songwriter he grew up admiring.

“God forbid in the new orthodoxy you be seen as not being authentic by that group of people,” Howie says. “I stayed away from doing anything that was influenced by the Burrito Brothers or Michael Nesmith or The Byrds, and God knows I adore all of those groups and they had a lot to do with the sound I certainly have now, because you didn’t want to be thought of as the guy jumping on the bandwagon.”

Michael Rank was another musician who lamented that era’s fundamentalism. As a member of Snatches of Pink, Rank’s Rolling Stones fixation — including the band’s country leanings — inspired the twangy flavor of the outfit’s 1988 debut, Send In the Clowns. But within a year, on their sophomore release, Dead Men, Rank had done a conscious 180.

“I rebelled and went as far from that sound as I could,” says Rank, whose new release with Stag, In the Weeds, unapologetically re-embraces country-rock. “Shit just goes around in circles sooner or later.”

To good effect, In the Weeds parses the influences that spread so thinly over last year’s sprawling two-disc set, Kin. By concentrating on the country elements, Rank has honed his songwriting here to a much sharper focus. And it doesn’t hurt that he’s got some of the best players in the Triangle — including the ubiquitous Golub on pedal steel and banjo, Chatham County Line’s John Teer on fiddle and mandolin, Marc E. Smith on the Telecaster, and Howie Jr. playing drums. You’ll find those players bringing their country-friendly skills to a host of records, and that promiscuous sharing of musicians helps keep regional country-rock fertile with ideas. But even if that crew isn’t on your record, living in the Petri dish will have its effect.

Ryan Gustafson’s new record as The Dead Tongues, Desert, may be mostly the product of the work he did on his own and with co-producer James Wallace, but it’s just as much a catalogue of his time spent in the Carolinas since coming here from Western Massachusetts 16 years ago.

After 2009’s promising Donkey took Gustafson away from his alternative rock roots, Desert seems like a stop even further down that road. “I’ve listened to much more traditional and country music since that record, and that has definitely been a big influence,” the 27-year-old Gustafson says, adding that it’s “also a nice thing when you can just call up (Megafaun’s) Phil Cook and try and get him to help you figure out clawhammer banjo.”

That cross-breeding may be most fertile in the Triangle, where proximity and the sheer number of acts practically demand alliances. But it’s not exclusive to that area, and it’s not only intra-generational. In Charlotte, former members of Lou Ford team up with the drummer from former hometown rivals Jolene to form the Loudermilks; Kutchma brings Whiskeytown’s Caitlin Cary in to “Appalachian up” one of his new songs; Barham shares a stage with the Backsliders’ Chip Robinson, and American Aquarium covers the group’s “Abe Lincoln.”

“It was a pretty cool thing to be able to turn some of our fans onto a band that had such an impact on me,” Barham says. “Talk about things coming full circle.”

For some, though full circle isn’t far enough. Like most young Southerners, Mount Moriah’s Heather McEntire initially ran from the popular country force fed to her growing up. Being bisexual, McEntire suggests, raised the stakes above mere aesthetics or regional birthrights; she associated popular country with discrimination and suffering. So expropriating country forms and redirecting them into new and challenging areas — as she does on Mount Moriah’s excellent new LP, Miracle Temple — turns out to be healthy for both the genre and McEntire.

“It was never a conscious decision to reconnect with it, but it did start to happen, right about when I was turning 30. It’s in my blood,” she says. “Maybe I’m stubborn, and I don’t want them to own that style of music, you know, like, ‘To play country music, you have to have have these types of beliefs.’

Those beliefs aren’t exactly welcoming. They can range from the jingoistic (Toby Keith’s “Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue”) and sexist (Trace Adkins’ “Honky Tonk Badonkadonk”) to the merely vapid. (Old school country didn’t exactly lack for misogyny, either.) But the bar is so low today that it becomes noteworthy when there are “songs that don’t involve using the word ‘party’ as a verb,” Edwards says.

For musicians who re-embrace three-chords-and-the-truth country-rock, the trick now is to take the music somewhere it hasn’t been since the mid-90s: someplace new.

“We’re trying to take this music and go deeper with it lyrically, or just go deeper with it as a form,” says McEntire. “It’s sincere, but there’s also an intentionality of wanting to challenge it.”

Jordan Lawrence contributed reporting to this article.

“Several months and three issues into the existence of this magazine, it’s becoming fairly clear to me that if indeed the No Depression community has a home base at the moment — a geographic region that seems unusually rich in alternative-country acts, in terms of both quantity and quality — it’s North Carolina.”

That was the first paragraph of a review I wrote for No Depression in early 1996 of Hell’s Half Acre, the debut album of an up-and-coming North Carolina band called Jolene. Their record fell within the same two-year window as the first albums by Whiskeytown, the Backsliders, 6 String Drag and Two Dollar Pistols, to name just the top tier of North Carolina’s mid-90s twang renaissance.

In retrospect, it seems fairly clear that the music we were covering in No Depression would naturally find a major breeding ground in North Carolina. Historically, the state has laid claim to quite a few icons of American traditional music, from the primordial acoustic blues of Elizabeth Cotten and Blind Boy Fuller to the archetypal mountain folk and bluegrass of Doc Watson and Earl Scruggs. This storied past contrasted with the circa-1990 rise of Chapel Hill as an indie-rock stronghold, with Superchunk and Merge Records at the fore.

Inevitably, some artists ended up drawing inspiration from both past and present. Whiskeytown was the most prominent of the N.C. twang nation, following their indie debut with two major-label albums that eventually spawned the solo careers of Ryan Adams and Caitlin Cary. Chip Robinson’s Backsliders and Kenny Roby’s 6 String Drag didn’t go as far, but both band leaders have persevered through down times and resurfaced with admirable solo works. (They also left an imprint on the next generation of Carolina twang acts, as American Aquarium’s cover of the Backsliders “Abe Lincoln” on their latest album attests.)

All the while, Two Dollar Pistols leader John Howie Jr. has continued to prove himself as the region’s foremost honky-tonk authority, from a 1999 duet album with Tift Merritt to three more Pistols LPs in the new millennium to his most recent stellar outing with the Rosewood Bluff. Merritt herself eventually became the brightest star to rise from the North Carolina alt-country crowd, with several major-label solo releases and a Grammy nomination, while a couple of her former bandmates became anchors of Chatham County Line, the Triangle’s most accomplished acoustic act of the past decade.

Others faded away, though they’re not so easily forgotten. Jolene leader John Crooke moved to Los Angeles, but Hell’s Half Acre still stands as the strongest record any of the ’90s N.C. alt-country bands ever made. Charlotte outfit Lou Ford surfaced around the time Jolene was disappearing; their single “How Does It Feel” might be the best single track any N.C. twang act has committed to tape, but the band never made the expected splash their three LPs suggested they might. Durham trad-country troubadour Thad Cockrell made a terrific record with producer Chris Stamey (2003’s Warmth and Beauty) as well as a duet album with former Whiskeytowner Caitlin Cary, but eventually moved to Nashville and formed the modern-pop band Leagues.

The recent mass success of the Avett Brothers notwithstanding, my sense of the N.C. roots community is that it’s a lot like the late-80s Austin scene in which I came of age — an aesthetic that was documented in Richard Linklater’s iconic film Slacker. If this means most of the bands are never going to rise above a certain level — whether for fear of success, or some combination of “velvet rut” and “big fish/small pond” syndrome — so be it.

I concluded that 1996 Jolene review by writing, “It’s enough to make me wish I lived in North Carolina.” A few years later, I realized that wish.

Peter Blackstock was co-founder and co-editor of No Depression magazine, which published from 1995 to 2008. He is currently associate editor at Durham’s INDY Week.

Gettys Arts Center. Photo courtesy of the City of Rock Hill.

As arts scenes go, Rock Hill is in a weird position. With just more than 66,000 people — according to the 2010 census — it’s the fifth largest city in South Carolina. But it’s spaced between two larger cities in Charlotte (30 minutes to the north) and Columbia (one hour to the south), meaning the burg’s population has ample options for seeking entertainment elsewhere. It’s a college town, the home of Winthrop University, but the small public university only enrolls about 6,000 students, hardly the influx brought in by larger state schools.

For a music and arts scene to thrive in such a place truly takes a community effort, focusing their efforts towards home and not eyeing the bigger towns nearby. Elonzo, now one of the most polished and passionate pop and country-rock bands in the Carolinas, sprang to life in Rock Hill five years ago. Singer Jeremy Davis now lives in Charlotte, but he is quick to sing his old home’s praises, emphasizing that the local scene helped Elonzo grow into the band it is now.

“There’s a community that’s really interested in being able to do things in Rock Hill and not having to leave to go to Charlotte,” he says. “That’s basically sprouted up since I moved there and gotten better since I left.”

Elonzo’s first gig was on Main Street at the Irish pub McHale’s. With frequent live music that includes appearances from up-and-coming local groups, the pub continues to be a place for new bands to get their start. With a solid beer selection and a comfortable atmosphere, Davis says it’s also a nice spot to grab a quick drink before heading off to other activities.

“The cool thing about that place is they do want the community of musicians who are doing original music to be playing there as well as whatever else they would normally have,” he says.

Davis says his favorite venue in town is The Courtroom inside the Gettys Arts Center. Mike Gentry — who also books bands at The Sweat Lodge, the town’s house-show headquarters (find Mike on Facebook to get the address) — books music in the renovated municipal space, which is complete with bench and witness stand. Making good use of the unconventional room, he has hosted exciting regional acts — Greensboro punk powerhouse Torch Runner, epic and energetic Columbia pop band The Sea Wolf Mutiny, Charlotte’s exuberant Yardwork — and a host of touring bands; Davis fondly remembers seeing Brooklyn’s rising Laura Stevenson and her polished folk-pop ensemble, The Cans. The music at The Courtroom is part of the Friday Arts Project, which programs diverse arts events on Fridays and other days of the week as well.

“It’s literally just this huge room,” Davis says. “The ceiling’s probably like 30-foot, so it’s a cavernous space. Everything’s marble; the floor is marble. It just has a lot of history, and it’s really cool.”

Other music venues in town include the hard rock-centric Money and the somewhat more diverse Firewater 110, both of which Davis says he hasn’t visited very often.

None of the local bands that frequent these clubs would be able to do so without gear. In Rock Hill, that means heading to Woody’s, which sells and repairs instruments and equipment in addition to its selection of used records and albums from local bands. Davis says the shop’s service is unbeatable, fondly recalling how they would rent — or sometimes simply loan — him a PA for gigs at venues without a proper sound system.

“I would actually just ride my bike up there all the time and see what was going on,” Davis says. “Most of the record selection was used, but we had our stuff in there and other people putting out albums around town were able to put them in there.”

As far as activities outside of the arts, Davis endorses expeditions to some of the town’s outdoor areas. Located on the university’s campus, Winthrop Lake is perfect for a quick round of disc golf; its course was used in the 1997 World Championships. For a less active afternoon, Davis recommends relaxing amid the beautiful flowers and fountains at Glencairn Gardens. He also advises that Confederate Park is a prime place for a nap.

After all this recreation, Davis suggests a few options for enticing Rock Hill-eats: He says the extensive menu at the family-owned Greek-style diner Old Town Bistro is filled with fare that can best any hangover. He’s a fan of the sandwich experts at the White Horse, too, which also boasts tasty salads and entrees, and he notes that McHale’s has great burgers to go along with its beer and music.

“What Rock Hill has to offer, much like Charlotte, is a strong community just under the surface,” Davis says. “[It’s] quickly adding some great eating establishments and groups that are interested in bringing life to the community instead of finding it elsewhere.”

Baobab
BAYOHBAHB
(self-released)

Rare is a second record that so purposefully builds on the strengths of its predecessor. Bolstering the percolating electro-folk of Baobab’s self-titled debut, Durham’s Phil Torres infuses his self-produced constructions with stronger melodic hooks and an even more meticulous array of charming effects. The instrumental offering “Thohoyandou” builds by way of Torres’ typical Graceland-inspired picking and afrobeat backing vocals, but soon twists with psychedelic reverb and a pillowy cavalcade of rhythmic samples. Sharper too is Torres’ lyrical focus. After painting an idyllic island landscape by similar means on “Loh Dalum Bay,” he poetically crushes the dream via human greed on the darker, fuzz-beguiled “The Great Pacific Garbage Patch”: “Most of us will meet our needs, but few are good at stopping there.” It’s just one perfectly crystallized sentiment on a record filled with them. —Jordan Lawrence

Charlie Poole & the Highlanders
The Complete Paramount & Brunswick Recordings, 1929
(Tompkins Square)

These recordings by North Carolina banjo maestro Charlie Poole are among the rarest of collector’s items; under contract to Columbia, Poole — who’d moved nearly a Gold LP worth of trio music for the label — wasn’t allowed to record his old-time orchestra quintet of twin fiddles, guitar and piano. So behind band moniker The Highlanders (The Alleghany Highlanders for Brunswick), Poole went elsewhere to varying effect. The hard-driving fiddles and pounding piano overwhelm Paramount’s notoriously poor hot mic — and Poole’s banjo and vocals — on chestnuts like “Tennessee Blues” and “Richmond Square.” So the real gem here is the Brunswick four-part skit-song “A Trip to New York,” a time-capsule chronicle of a typical trip North to record. This is a Golden Age of Radio nugget worth the price alone. —John Schacht 

Coma Cinema
Posthumous Release
(Fork & Spoon/Orchid Tapes)

The first three Coma Cinema LPs were self-produced, attacking listeners with intricate scuzz and an aggressive sense of depression. Posthumous Release, the fourth album credited to Mat Cothran’s Columbia-based project, abandons that approach without feeling alien from his previous work. Produced in Los Angeles by Trung Ngo and Brad Petering of TV Girl, the album peels back some of the fuzz, allowing Cothran to stretch out with patient acoustic odes and buoyant but bitter rock numbers. His imagery is still shocking — “Fuck me in the graveyard/ Confession’s always in my mind” — but his mood is one of simmering resignation. Showcasing newfound maturity, he exploits the full range of his fragile and expressive croon, finding wisdom and beauty within his scathing verses. —JL

The Dead Tongues
Desert
(FireAnt Music)

With Desert — Ryan Gustafson’s follow-up to 2009′s Donkey, released under his given name — the Durham singer applies his own nuance to classic songwriting touchstones. These 10 tracks waver between moments of nothing-left-to-lose freedom and love-lost misery; this is “fuck it” music in both incarnations of the phrase. The bulk are straightforward folk- and country-inflected rockers, recorded and played loosely but with obvious love. Opener “Call Out to Me” could be Blonde on Blonde-Dylan as done by Beachwood Sparks, piano and guitar lines chasing a compelling descending chord pattern to capture the narrator’s laid-back demise “on a bed of smoke.” On both “No Intentions” and the title track, he cranks up the tension with cathartic bridges using Al Kooper-like organ for fuel. There’s a tendency to tag “Ryan Adams” on any Triangle rocker accenting his sad songs with country and folk elements, but Desert never undercuts its dark themes with self-pity. And so far, Gustafson’s proved he’s a damn fine songwriter, too. — JS

Dear Blanca
Talker
(Post-Echo)

In recent years, old-school slacker rock has found new life, bands like Yuck and Cymbals Eat Guitars picking up the playbook passed down by bands like Pavement and Archers of Loaf and putting their own twist on those cherished sounds. At first blush, Talker, the debut LP from Columbia’s Dear Blanca, seems an obvious extension of this trend. The anxious snarl of leader Dylan Dickerson, once the drummer of the post-rock outfit Pan, packs claustrophobic aggression, and the songs’ dryly distorted riffs invoke a similar mood. But true to Dickerson’s espoused influences — The Minutemen and Townes Van Zandt — there’s more to Dear Blanca as the band indulges in bittersweet melodies, robust horn charts, and achingly personal songwriting. There’s nothing slack about it. —JL

The Kingsbury Manx
Bronze Age
(Odessa)

For 14 years, Chapel Hill’s Kingsbury Manx have managed a purposeful and patient evolution. The band’s comfortable but exacting pop exudes a kind of organic precision, like ivy woven through white-picket lattices. But these polished players have learned a lot over the years. Bronze Age — the Manx’s sixth LP and first in four years — reveals the full breadth of their mastery. The album includes a new element, Minimoog synthesizer, which matches coarsely distorted guitars on standouts like “In the Catacombs,” achieving a gritty sound that’s both polite and spacey; think indie pop as informed by Ray Harryhausen. The brisk and beautiful “Handsprings” is a jaunt of smooth harmony and tinkling piano, while the surging “Solely Bavaria” whirs with warming synthesizers and chugs with riffs that are rugged but rigorous, a manicured answer to Chapel Hill’s indie rock legacy. Bronze Age isolates and highlights the diversity of the Manx’s talents, stripping away the group’s occasional tedium and delivering some of its most thrilling songs to date. —JL

Deniro Farrar
The Patriarch
(self-released)

The ridiculously badass cover for Deniro Farrar’s new mixtape depicts Darth Vader dressed as a Pope, a pointed political jab and an embodiment of the N.C. hip-hop patriarch the Charlotte MC aspires to be. He’s not there yet, but the album proves that he has the potential. The beats inject the bone-chilling grime of Wu Tang classics with pointed synthesizer loops and aggressive syncopation, nodding to the past but clearly concerned with the future. Farar rarely seems to be pushing himself, but his charismatic confidence and luxuriously graveled flow make his mid-tempo ghetto histories feel profound. “These niggas out here singing like they on the choir,” he offers on “Snitches” as a choral sample emphasizes the morbid humor. He finds your lack of faith disturbing. —JL

Golden Gunn
Golden Gunn
(Three Lobed Recordings)

Sneaking in for RSD (and available digitally), this collab between HGM’s M.C. Taylor and Scott Hirsch and New York-based blues-guitar wiz Steve Gunn is loosely based around a Kerouacian character named “Dickie.” The nine tracks alternate between the two artists’ fingerprints but fold together in sublime fashion. “Vysehrad” slinks sexily into focus, synth and wah-wah guitar draping the acoustic melody in deliciously sticky textures. “The Sun Comes Up a Purple Diamond” digs a mile-wide, organ-washed groove that Gunn vamps over while conjuring a road vets’ weary sunrise. Horns buffer the greasy groove — part JJ Cale cocaine riff, part AWB low-rider rumble — of “From a Lincoln Continental,” while “Dickie’s Theme” corkscrews various guitar layers to morph trad-blues into psychedelic dreaminess. No mere throwaway, Golden Gunn cries out for future entries. —JS

The Holland Brothers
Dueling Devils
(Euramerican Soul)

The dual visions of twin brothers Mark and Michael Holland combined into a rootsy whole in 90s Triangle fixture Jennyanykind, locating somewhere between The Band, The Stones and Jon Spencer. Here, though, the Hollands divide the work down the middle and strip it back to the foundations: Michael’s five live songs feature originals, traditionals and old schoolers from Charlie Poole and WC Handy based loosely on Piedmont finger-picking; Mark’s five originals are rooted in Charley Patton’s Delta style. Michael’s sound like they were recorded by the Lomaxes; Mark’s exhibit higher fidelity, backing vox, hand-percussion and the occasional accent (harmonica, melodica), but they’re just as rough-hewn. Jennyanykind’s LPs had a tendency to wander, but here simplification reigns to the brothers’ overall benefit. —JS

Various Artists
Pet-Tich-Eye
(self-released)

An ambitious project striving to unite Triangle-based musicians, visual artists and nonprofits, the non-sonic aspects of Pet-Tich-Eye would take more than this blurb’s scant 100 words to explain. But the corresponding compilation is easy to enjoy. Featuring 10 songs written and performed by one-off triumvirates of area heavyweights, the selections are diverse and impressive. “East Coast/West Coast Time” reimagines the synth-lush arrangements once favored by The Rosebuds as the backdrop for Ivan Howard and Mount Moriah’s Heather McEntire to merge their sumptuous Southern coos. Better still is “Somewhere in Between (Breathe),” a stunning composition that uses imposing drones crafted by Horseback’s Jenks Miller and Megafaun’s Phil Cook to power Kane Smego’s smoldering spoken word. —JL

Photo by Jasiatic

On a sunny morning in Charlotte, the veteran emcee Supastition crawls out of bed and walks into his living room where he finds his lady crying on the couch, surrounded by moving boxes. She won’t speak to him, so he heads to the nearby corner store, where the Korean store clerks don’t give him the suspicious glances he has come to expect. He becomes angry when they ignore him at the checkout counter; for relief, he heads to a local record store. Inside, the music is low, and he notices that it feels like a graveyard. Outside, one of his songs blares out of a passing Chevy.

“The local radio station — they had my song on,” he spits on “Best Worst Day,” describing the experience. “That’s when I knew that something was horribly wrong, homes/ ‘Cause they don’t play no local music if it’s homegrown?/ A mothafucka gotta be dead or long gone.”

Then, he picks up a copy of the Charlotte Observer and sees his name followed by the words, “Local rapper slain.” That’s the fictional storyline of “Best Worst Day” — a conceptual nod to the film The Sixth Sense that appears near the end of Supastition’s new EP, The Blackboard. The other seven songs on the EP are a fierce reversion to the Supastition who was once known for freight-loading verses with acute punch lines and bootstrap avowals, before he switched to a gentler approach on 2009’s Splitting Image LP, released under his birth name, Kam Moye.

“Even though it is the The Sixth Sense story, it’s more about me poking fun at the fact that I can walk around the whole city and no one would know me,” he explains. “I could go in a record store, and people won’t know who I am. It’s like, you won’t ever get loved until you die or you quit.”

In April 2010, he issued a statement that he was, in fact, quitting the music industry after five record deals, three full-lengths, and three EPs. For the next two years, Supastition entered a “self-imposed exile.”

“There’s a quote that I always reference: ‘Don’t strive to make your presence noticed, live to make your absence felt’,” Supastition says. “But, everybody still searches for their name online to see what’s going on, and if people are still talking about them.” In his absence, he noticed that one of his older songs, “Fountain of Youth,” actually saw an increase in digital sales.

That song, which appeared on 2004’s The Deadline EP, finds Supastition rapping about how he’d outgrown the rap game. Soon thereafter, he’d given up on it all-together. Ironically, however, in January — a month before his wife gave birth to their son, Kingston — the Charlotte lion resurfaced with The Blackboard, an 8-song, vigilant return to hip-hop. It’s just part-time, but he’s okay with that. These days, he’s more concerned with refining his craft than making it big.

“One thing I’ve realized over the past few years is that I’ve always known how to rhyme; I just didn’t always know how to get what I wanted say across,” he says. “I was always struggling to make it lyrical. Now, I’ve found more of a balance with it. I feel like I can talk about anything without really losing the style.”

He’ll push his boundaries further after the late-March, CD release of The Blackboard. It includes a bonus track with former Jedi Mind Tricks producer, Stoupe, who Supastition also recruited to form the duo, Vestige. The two have completed a project entitled An Inanimate Life, which they plan to release later this year. It’s one of two concept albums Supastition will release this year, including a separate project with German producer Rik Marvel, who produced Blackboard’s title track.

“The first time around, people didn’t really pay attention to me because they were paying attention to other North Carolina acts like Little Brother and the Justus League,” he says. “Everything has changed now. There’s really nobody else to focus on, so they have to focus on my music.”

Photo by Enid Valu

If you’re a music fan in Charlotte, you’ve likely heard of the house shows at Yauhaus. Maybe you’ve even gone to one or two or 12, and had yourself a time. If so, you’d also know that mega-talent and all-around nice guy Bo White is the man behind the Yauhaus curtain, offering up his house, now a home studio, to Charlotte’s underground music scene for more than eight years.

Apart from his impressive hosting distinction, White is also a creative force. His last record, Same Deal/New Patrones gained regional acclaim — Shuffle critics ranked the album third on our list of “The Carolinas’ Top 25 Albums of 2012.” Not one to slow down, White’s already recording demos for his new record, which will feature the newest line-up of Bo White y Su Orquesta. White is also a top-notch performer who appears with his band in full-force or solo with just an electric bass and drum machine. He’s also a key cog in posi-pop powerhouse Yardwork. He and his Orquesta will play a “Road Show” sponsored by Raleigh’s Hopscotch Music Festival at Snug Harbor in Charlotte on May 3. (Winston-Salem, Chapel Hill, Asheville, Wilmington and Richmond, Va., will also host Hopscotch shows this spring).

Shuffle‘s Molly J showed up at Yauhaus to walk in on White who, true to form, was laying down horn parts (via melodica) for a demo track. As busy as he is, the humble and soft-spoken White set time aside to chat about his top bill for the Charlotte Hopscotch show, his band’s new line-up, his new recordings, an upcoming residency at Snug Harbor, and his house show legacy.

Shuffle: How did you get involved with the Hopscotch “Road Show”?

Bo White: I was asked to play it by a fellow I don’t know terribly well, Nathan Price.  And I guess he has a hand in organizing it with Grayson (Currin).  I don’t really know how much Grayson Currin has to do with it now, do you?

Shuffle: No, I don’t know anything about the organization.

BW: I think it was basically his baby when it started out, and I played the first two years.  It was Yardwork the second year and Black Congo NC the first year.  So, I don’t really know why I was asked.

Shuffle: But you got top bill, right?

BW: Yeah, for the Charlotte show.

Shuffle: So, they must be fans….

BW: I guess so!  I haven’t had a chance to talk directly with Grayson about the last album.  I saw a pretty good write-up in the INDY Week.

Shuffle: So, they contacted you and they were, like, “We want you to play…”

BW: And then they asked me my opinions on some other bands to play and I gave them a big list.

Shuffle: Did they follow that list?

BW: Yeah, they just picked two names off of that list! That’s all I know.  I’m not playing actual Hopscotch this year unless I get added on.  But who knows?  I might get added on to some side show, somewhere.

Shuffle: Have you had a favorable Hopscotch experience?

BW: Oh, I love it!  Every time I’ve gone, it’s awesome.  The best part is, if you’re playing, you get to go for free.  And you can go to the VIP section at any point, which is awesome.

Shuffle: Do you think they’ll have a good turn-out here in Charlotte?

BW: Sure!  It can only help them.  And I don’t believe they are taking any money from the show.  They’re still giving it to the performers, so it’s not like a fundraising thing.  They offered to put their name on a show and have me play it.

Shuffle: How is the new record taking shape?

BW: Right now, I basically have a million demos. I have demos that are just me and a drum machine, and then demos with a percussionist. And there are demos of me playing the melodica for the horn parts — and three or four versions of those, sometimes. I’m not going to start cutting tape until everyone has played the songs for a while. At least the core group. It might be a couple months from now.

Shuffle: Is there going to be a theme or a concept?

BW: Not as much as the last one. I think this one is going to be a lot more unified, sonically. The last record had a unifying theme but, sonically, it was all over the place. It should be completely the opposite with this one. It’s gonna sound like a particular sound, which is still tough to describe right now. I would say it’s kind of Colombian influenced. But it also doesn’t quite ring true with that stuff. It’s kind of Bossa, kind of Cuban at different points. All the themes are not Latin themes— they’re more like the old songs I used to write.

Shuffle: Is that more in the “pop” vein?

BW: Yeah.

Shuffle: Where does the Latin influence come from?  You are a native of North Carolina, right?

BW: South Carolina.

Shuffle: So, what’s your affinity towards the Latin culture?

BW: Just general interest, really. I listened to a lot of Latin music and other world music as well. It’s just something I’ve really been into for years.

Shuffle: Can you pinpoint a certain way you connect with it?

BW: Well, especially the older material from the 60s and 70s. It’s the same way I connect with 60s and 70s material from other places.  It feels like it’s just pouring out of them more.

Shuffle: It’s a little more raw than what we get today?

BW: Yeah, it’s probably the reason anyone goes for vintage stuff. At the same time, I realize nobody in the group is a skilled Latin player. We’re just falling into it. I like that aspect, too. We’re sort of developing our own style. Instead of Cumbia or Guaguancó or something like that. It’s something completely different, with the full drum kit. Michael (Houseman) was talking about how it sounds vaguely like New Orleans beats, with rolling snare and a big marching drum kick. At the same time, you have Davey (Blackwell) going crazy on timbales and güiro.

Shuffle: What is your line-up for Bo White y Su Orquestra?

BW: The core group, and these are the folks I can call at any moment to go tour and do any show, is Michael Houseman on the drum kit, Davey Blackburn on auxiliary percussion, Brent Bagwell on baritone sax, Andy Thewlis on alto sax, and me on bass and singing. That’s it. That’s the core of it. We actually started out with Kevin Clarke on guitar and Nathan Hemphill on keys but there was almost too much harmony for what I was hearing at the time.

Shuffle: So, you wanted more space?

BW: Just a little more space because I really want the lyrics to come through, very obviously. On the last record, because I was mixing it, I could make the lyrics come through, but that’s also why I don’t play that stuff out anymore. It would just get buried in most situations. So I’m trying to strip down to things that I can readily get, and still have it be something interesting to me. Also, we definitely won’t be accused of being a regular old rock band without a guitar.

Shuffle: What are your plans for your month-long, Snug Harbor residency?

BW: Like most of my projects, I start off with a big goal, but I set a smaller goal that I’m definitely going to make. Originally, I wanted to have a different EP for every night, and we would play the songs off of that EP. And, of course, time got shorter and shorter, so I scratched the idea of having recordings for it. And then I scratched the idea of having four different sets; now, we’re down to two different sets. We’re going to be alternating those every night. We’re essentially fine-tuning this material. It’s gonna sound pretty good, and that’s what I told the fellows, that people will probably really enjoy this. But at the same time, we’re going to feel like we could do it better. By July or August, we’re gonna be killin’ it . . . hopefully. It is a really exciting sound. There are just a couple of kinks to works out. The live setting will give us a laboratory to work this out. And that was my minimum goal, so we’re reaching that!

Shuffle: I saw you played a house show, solo, about a week ago. How’d that go?

BW: Great!  It was at a place called the “Strange House.”  It used to be called “Bobby’s World.”

Shuffle: Like the cartoon!

BW: Yeah! ‘Cause Bobby lived there; it seemed like an obvious choice. But they changed the name, and they changed some things about how they run the shows and it was excellent. They ran such a sweet house show! And I’m a fellow who has some ideas about how to run a house show. They did very well! Everybody seemed to have a good time — lots of people. There were punk bands. People were partying. But then I got in there and played solo bass to a drum machine — a lot of people paid attention and really listened. I sold records. That’s always a good sign. Yeah, it’s a good spot and well away from police intervention.

Shuffle: That always seems to be the main hindrance of the house show. When do the cops show up?

BW: I actually have a mandatory court date.

Shuffle: Because of a noise complaint?

BW: Yeah, because of the last house show we had. This one was a little louder because they brought their own PA. It sounded phenomenal, but, yeah, the police came. I wish they would give me a ticket with a price on it that I could just pay. But instead they gave me that mandatory court date and I know it’s specifically to inconvenience me. But, you know, I am breaking the law.

Shuffle: How is that going to affect future shows at Yauhaus?

BW: Maybe if they bring their own PA, I’ll ask them to keep it down. My equipment is just quieter in general. They have to keep it down, so they can hear themselves.

Shuffle: What’s the house show vibe in Charlotte?  There seems to be a semi-thriving underground music scene.

BW: Yeah! It’s been really good. I started these (Yauhaus) shows about eight years ago, and I feel like it’s been good since then. There’s always been houses that pop up. They last for about a year and half to two years; that’s a typical run. Most of the houses here in Charlotte have really held it together. They don’t get too nasty to where you don’t want to attend. They don’t get too many people who just want to rip stuff up and cause a scene.

Shuffle: Last I was at Yauhaus, you touched on the “golden days.” What made those shows special?

BW: Well, I guess I was able to do more of them. The cops didn’t come. There would be 100 people here just by word of mouth and a MySpace invitation, and, maybe, one poster up at Common Market. And as many people as could watch the band, would watch the band. And we’d make a lot of donation money for them. Those are the signifiers of it. We still have bands who come through that, I’m sure, will probably be bigger later on. But the shows that were happening then, we have the benefit of looking back and seeing that some of these bands are huge now. Toro Y Moi played here . . .Vivian Girls and Titus Andronicus. All kinds of people. Javelin. Future Islands has played here. The list is really long. I’ve tried to compile it before. I’ve got one somewhere that is pretty complete,  but it still doesn’t have everybody.

Shuffle: Do you feel there’s been a decline, at all, in the quality of your audience?

BW: No, no! I think the quality of the audience has been pretty consistent, but the amount has gone down. Which I’m fine with. Honestly, there shouldn’t be a hundred people at a house. Houses aren’t made for that many people…like, the restrooms are a horror. I think the ideal house show is 45 people showing up, and everybody is there to watch the music and they all donate, like, at least $3 to the band. And then the touring band leaves with about $120, and they’re happy as clams and everybody has a good time. That shouldn’t be as hard to do as it is sometimes. It does take a lot more convincing now — with posters and messages. You have to sell it more.

Photo courtesy of Paint Fumes

Last month, Elijah Von Cramon, singer for raucous Charlotte garage trio Paint Fumes, was struck by a car while walking home. He sustained multiple injuries, including fractures to his pelvis, chipped teeth, a fractured shoulder and a broken femur. He’s currently recovering from surgeries, and a bunch of his friends are getting together on Mar. 16 to help pay the tab. Eleven bands and three DJs will play a benefit at Charlotte’s Tremont Music Hall to help the singer in his time of need. Swift and vicious Charlotte punk trio Joint D≠ will play as will rough and rowdy Chapel Hill garage outfit Last Year’s Men. The ragged country-punk of Appalucia and the surf-infused tantrums of Serfs highlight the diversity of the assemblage, a testament to the music community’s support of Cramon during this trying time. The $10 show begins at 3 p.m. and will likely last into the night, quite the reward for supporting a musician in need. Check out the full line-up below. —Jordan Lawrence

Elijah Von Cramon Benefit Show
Mar. 16 @ Tremont Music Hall, Charlotte

Bands:
Joint D≠
The Orchidales
Dave and the Strange
Little Bull Lee
Ghost Bikini
Meat Group
Appalucia
Serfs
The Nervous Ticks
Scott Dence (from Boring Portals)
Last Year’s Men

DJs:
Elon
Scott Weaver
DJ have it your way with B(ane) K(elly)

For many keeping tabs on Raleigh’s Hopscotch Music Festival from other outposts in the Carolinas, it might often seem like the Triangle has all the fun. That’s not the case this year. To celebrate its line-up announcement on April 24, Hopscotch is sponsoring a series of six “Road Shows” between April 25 and May 4 in Chapel Hill, Winston-Salem, Wilmington, Asheville, Charlotte and Richmond (No S.C. dates, which is admittedly a bummer).  Each bill leans heavily on local talent, emphasizing Hopscotch’s impressive feel for its home state — and parts of Virginia. The Charlotte show on May 3 might be the most exciting as it features a performance from Bo White y Su Orquesta, one of the Yardwork member’s few solo appearances with a full band since putting out last year’s Same Deal/New Patrones. The album utilizes an enormous cast of musicians in its combinations of traditional Latin sounds and experimental pop, making any attempt at a live recreation a must-see. He’s supported by the searing punk trio Joint D≠ and the buoyant pop outfit Blossoms, making Charlotte’s bill entirely homegrown. The rest of the intriguing line-ups are listed on the poster below. Each show costs $5, all of which goes directly to the performers. Who’s up for a road trip? —Jordan Lawrence

Photo courtesy of Joint D≠

Strike Gently, the exhilarating 2012 debut from Charlotte punk powerhouse Joint D≠, is a dizzying blur. The trio’s incredible strengths — the cutting and kinetic riffs of guitarist Nick Goode, the driving bass of Thomas Berkau, the concussive and complex drumming of Michael Houseman, Goode’s scarring snarl — fuse into a singular force, mostly indiscernible as individual elements. That’s not the case on “Pollutant,” a new song from Joint D≠’s forthcoming sophomore effort, apparently titled Satan is Real Again, Again, or Feeling Good About Feeling Good About Bad Thoughts and due this summer via Sorry State Records. Late last week, the band posted an unmastered stream of “Pollutant” as well as a roughly scrawled lyrics sheet that announced the album’s name and release date, both of which are below. Even in its unmastered state, the track suggests a more nuanced distillation of Joint D≠’s potent aggression. Goode’s vocals cut straight through the mix, intelligible right down to the spittle flying from his mouth as he shouts. And though the band’s instruments still lock into a tight assault, the intricacies of their technique are also apparent. Thus, “Pollutant” finds one of the area’s best punk bands becoming even better. A new album from Brain F≠, Goode’s other prominent Carolina-born punk outfit, is also expected this summer. When it rains, it pours. —Jordan Lawrence

Photo courtesy of Paint Fumes

Elijah Von Cramon, singer and guitarist for the Charlotte garage trio Paint Fumes, was struck by a car as he was walking home on Feb. 13. According to a post on the band’s Facebook (quoted in its entirety below), Cramon, pictured above with cap and jean jacket, sustained multiple injuries, including fractures to his pelvis, chipped teeth, a fractured shoulder and a broken femur. A five- to 10- hour surgery will take place either Tuesday or Wednesday to repair his injuries. The band’s post says that they have been told by his doctors that it is “the most serious and difficult orthopedic operation there is.” If the surgery is successful, Cramon is still expected to be unable to walk for three months, a disheartening blow as the group was preparing for a tour of the U.S. and Europe in support of Uck Life, their live-wire 2012 debut. Shuffle will continue to monitor the situation and post updates as they are made available. —Jordan Lawrence

to our fans…

Elijah was hit by a car as he was walking home early Wednesday night. Elijah’s sustained various injuries, although the biggest challenge for him is the multiple fractures in his pelvis, chipped teeth, fractured shoulder, broken femur. A 5-10 hour Surgery is likely to occur on Tuesday or Wednesday of this week. From all reports, Elijah will be unable to walk for 3 months. Fortunately, Dan (step father) was off of work and was able to get to the hospital as soon as he was notified of the accident and Alix (moher) was able to make it quickly back home from her Jamaica vacation on Friday to be by Elijah’s side.
This has been a particularly big blow to Elijah as his band, Paint Fumes, was getting ready to embark on a tour of the US and Europe after the release of their first full length album available on Slovenly.
We will get more details out as they emerge. Alix (mother) specifically asks for your prayers and healing thoughts for Elijah during his surgery and any other time. This will be a long road ahead and they will take it one day at a time along the way.

Stay tuned…

Today preparations for tomorrow’s surgery are continuing to be made. We’re told that it is the most serious and difficult orthopedic operation there is. Much is being discussed to maximize the chances is success without complications but we all understand that there are risk involved in such an invasive surgery. Discussions also involve Elijah’s post op rehabilitation and plans. This is a tense period and efforts are also focused on Elijah’s pain management and comfort . Continue the prayers, chants, and meditations during these critical days.

UPDATE: Paint Fumes posted a message from Cramon’s mother to their Facebook on Tuesday morning (Feb. 19):

“Just got an update and all still moving as planned. However might be an 8 hour operation and will need have sedation after due to post pain.

Jeez this is tearing me up. He has been very brave and really trying to be strong but this is over the top. I know it could have been worse but this is more than I would want anyone to bear especially my Elijah.”

UPDATE: A benefit concert for Cramon will be held at Charlotte’s Tremont Music Hall on Mar. 16. All proceeds from the event’s $10 tickets will go to the singer and his family to defray his medical expenses. Further details, including the line-up, will be announced in the coming weeks.