NTSIB is Headin’ South

And unlike the protagonist in Dan Auerbach’s awesome song, “Keep It Hid”, we can say where.

Jennifer and I and our longtime friend, writer Cameron Rogers, will be hitting the road to Oxford, Mississippi, tomorrow. As we’ll be out seeing the sites, maybe catching a show, hitting the Blues Archive at Ole Miss, the Delta Blues Museum, Graceland Too (heaven help us), Square Books (perhaps we’ll score a Dent May siting) and who knows what else (as well as catching the Felice Brothers at Lebowski Fest on the way home), we’ll be on hiatus until after our return on the 17th.

Before we go, though, we’d like to let you know that NSTIB buddies Hell and Half of Georgia will be playing a couple of gigs at the Orange County Fair in Costa Mesa, California, this month. One on July 17 at 5:00 p.m. on the Meadows Stage and another on July 30 with details to be announced.

Now, Dan Auerbach and the Fast Five will take us out. Take care. We love you. See you soon.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WVzcZkl2IBE]

Rock ‘n’ Roll Photog: Courtney Love/Hole

Jennifer has feelings about Courtney Love that she’d like to share with you.


I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS, OKAY: Courtney Love

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I have not always had a lot of feelings about Courtney Love. Let’s just be blunt and honest: I first learned about her because I was a Nirvana fan and she was Kurt Cobain’s wife. I was dimly aware of Hole – bear in mind at this time (1992) the only music magazine I read was Circus, and I got the rest of my music news from MTV, and then mostly from Headbanger’s Ball — but I didn’t have any particular opinions about her or their music. Following the release of Celebrity Skin in 1998, I would develop an appreciation for their sound, though even then I only really listened to the title track, and that on the radio. I always meant to buy the record, but never quite got there.

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Getting back to Nirvana for just a minute: I can tell you where I was, when I got the news that Kurt Cobain was dead. I was 19, and in college. It was a beautiful spring day. The grass was a particularly vibrant shade of green and the air was cool on my face. I wasn’t surprised – how long had we been watching him struggle? — but I felt like I had been punched in the heart. And next to my grief for him was grief for her, suddenly the most famous (soon to be infamous) rock widow of my generation. Since then I have watched, with the rest of the world, as she exploded and imploded, rising and falling in various measures.

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Which slingshots us back to 1998, to a record I didn’t listen to until three months ago, and, which, once I had heard it all, I was perversely glad I had put it off. Love’s own grief and rage and terror is in every line and note of Celebrity Skin, and I’m not sure I could have borne that, in 1998. Even in 2010 it’s a little bit difficult to listen to; my heart still clenches at I had to tell them you were gone, because she did, and she paid bitterly for it, in many different ways.

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Which brings me to the new record and the band with new faces but the old name. Nobody’s Daughter is angry in some (different) ways, and contemplative in others. It is fierce and joyful and beautiful and sad all at once. As for the band, well, I have only ever seen Hole twice, both times this year, so again, let us be blunt and honest: these changes don’t bother me. But I wholly sympathize with the people who are enraged or disappointed (or both), or who may have other, more mixed feelings on the issue. I kind of feel the same way about the band currently calling itself Guns n’ Roses. I’m glad everyone involved is alive and well and making music but . . . that is not my Guns n’ Roses.

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That said, I am filled with a very particular kind of fierce joy, hearing Courtney Love sing again, hearing those big, loud, defiant, grungy chords rippling out through the speakers. My tiny black heart expands in a very specific way while she’s telling us mildly scandalous stories between songs, shutting down hecklers, and covering Closer for the express purpose of trolling Trent Reznor. Which, I would like to add, she did as a torch song, and blended it neatly into Man That Got Away by Judy Garland.

It’s not nostalgia – I am grateful, on a daily basis, to never have to be 20 ever again — as much as it is the delight of encountering a first love or an old friend in a new place. In 2008 I came back to being a rock fan after the better part of a decade spent away, and after two years in this sometimes baffling new musical reality, as much as I love the new sounds and the new faces, I retain a deep and abiding affection for the old ones, less seen but no less loved.

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And as for Courtney Love, all of this time that I didn’t really know her, I had missed her, and I didn’t realize it until I was standing in the pit last week. Now that she’s back, radiant and ascendant if periodically kind of wobbly, I hope her trajectory continues to be upwards, because I want to stand in the pit and sing with her again, and again, and again.

–Jennifer

Bits: Robert Pollard, Brooklyn Hip Hop Festival, Big Boi, Local Natives

Slackday: The Black Keys Vs. The GZA

What happens when a pair of white boys from Akron, Ohio…
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k0U8eDocbG8]

…meet one of the killingest MCs around?
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p3BpnT1C4QA]

http://assets.delvenetworks.com/player/loader.swf

That’s right, just another excuse for me to post more Black Keys and GZA.

(Dan looks positively giddy to meet GZA. Can’t say that I blame him.)

Fellow Travellers: Rubber City Review

It’s been a while since NTSIB has expressed feelings of blog crush-ness, but we have been admiring Rubber City Review from afar for a while. Based out of Akron, Ohio, RCR covers a wide range of classic music: rock, blues, funk, soul, country, jazz… if it’s good, RCR is feelin’ it. Hallmarks of RCR posts include myriad song samples, mini music history lessons and personal recollections/reflections.

Run by Tim Quine, RCR also comprises contributions from Kevin Swan, Andy Moore, Jack Quine, photographer James Quine and Dan Auerbach. What? Oh yeah, did I fail to mention that Tim is Dan’s uncle? Maybe that’s because, even though I was led to Rubber City Review through a post to the Black Keys’ MySpace, I would be crushing on RCR even without Mr. Auerbach’s involvement.

It’s good, people. And while RCR doesn’t spotlight much new music, you will find a lot of great music that is probably new to you. Check ‘em out.

Rubber City Review

Rock ‘n’ Roll Photog: Empires

This week, Jennifer hangs out with familiar friends: loud guitars.


Looking back over my previous entries, I’ve been talking about a lot of pop music. This week I’m changing it up a little bit, and swinging the pendulum back towards my old familiar friend, rock and roll. Ladies and gentlemen, please meet Empires:

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Tom Conrad

They are from Chicago, but last week their tour stopped in New York, at the Studio at Webster Hall. The light was really, really bad; I actually got most of my best pictures while they were setting up.

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Sean Van Vleet

They have two records out — Howl and Bang — and they are both excellent. While I was watching them play I was thinking about how, exactly, I was
going to explain their sound to the Internet. The phrase that came back to me over and over again was “punch drunk love-affair” which, all right, that might be kind of insufferable (again – sorry!) but it’s the best I can do. To me they sound like afternoons spent wandering amid dark shelves covered in whispery plastic contemplating past misdeeds (My Poor Lover), hot summer nights punctuated by fireworks (Under the Bright Lights) —

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Ryan J. Luciani (drums) and Max Steger

— the point where you realize you’ve gone down the rabbit hole for someone (and don’t even care) (Voodooized), a bad love affair or a love affair gone bad (Damn Things Over), and post-disasterous romance roars of defiance and survival (Bang and Hello Lover). Their noise is a big noise, a solid one, like a big wave, but it’s also melodically interesting. And it doesn’t sound like anything else out there, on the radio right now. So if you want something new and big and raw and daring, you should check them out.

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Conor Doyle (bass) and Ryan J. Luciani

Finally, a special note for photography enthusiasts: the deluxe digital edition of
Bang comes with a “making of” video and over two dozen fabulous digital
photographs taken by Tom Conrad .

— Jennifer

Additional Bits: Guided By Voices, Andrew Bird

  • This was too good not to make an additional post for: Guided By Voices will be reuniting to play the Matador Records 21st anniversary gig in Las Vegas this October.
  • For those on the other side of the States, Andrew Bird will be collaborating with Ian Schneller, the sculptor who makes Bird’s Victrola speaker-style amplifiers, for a project called “Sonic Arboretum”, which will include a performance from Bird, at the Guggenheim Museum on August 5.

Bits: Crook & Flail mix, Justin Townes Earle, A.A. Bondy, Big Boi and Rick Ross, the Black Keys, Nicholas Megalis and the Envy Project, Outside Lands

Ponderous Wank: Going Out the Way You Came In


I finally watched Cadillac Records this weekend, and while I did like it (I’m a sucker sell for a movie like this), the part that effected me most was one frame of text at the end of the film in the run-down of what happened to the major players in the film. It was about Little Walter, who was Muddy Waters’ harmonica man (who also had some solo success), and it said simply that he was buried in a grave with no headstone, and that a headstone was purchased by fans years later.

This hit me so hard that I just sat there with the credits paused and tears welling up in my eyes. I know by now that reciprocity, people getting “what they deserve”, is not, and has never been, an operational law in this world, but it makes me so angry that someone who was as talented and influential didn’t even have the money for a proper funereal and burial while people who didn’t have a fraction of Little Walter’s talent have had hugely elaborate, hell, downright gaudy funerals with all kinds of hoopla and pouring out of sympathy from hundreds, thousands of strangers.

What makes me angrier is that Little Walter’s case is not an isolated incident. So many of the stories of the finest blues musicians end with “he died in poverty”. And some of them would also have died in obscurity if it weren’t for people like John Fahey (who, himself, was an influential musician who died in poverty and near-obscurity) who tracked down men like Bukka White and Skip James and brought them to that amazing Newport Folk Festival of 1964 that kick-started the “blues revival” of the ’60s. Sure, part of the reason these men died penniless was that they squandered much of their gains (but compare this to modern musicians who do the same thing – Pete Doherty, for an obvious example – who indulge in the same habits and aren’t hurting) , but these musicians were also taken advantage of in a time when black people were still viewed as somehow being subhuman (though plenty human enough for recording labels to make a buck off of – “race records” were a hot commodity in the time of segregation). The majority of the legendary blues musicians came up poor in the Mississippi Delta (even those considered “Chicago blues”, like Waters, Howlin’ Wolf and Robert Johnson), and when these golden egg record contracts were handed to them – or what seemed like a golden egg to these impoverished people who were often being bilked by the same hand that was handing them the golden egg – many of them didn’t realize these fortunes would not last forever. They didn’t know rock ‘n’ roll was right around the corner, the child of the blues that would, essentially, shoot the blues in the back.

I’m grateful for the funds that have been established to help the old bluesmen who are still around (though there aren’t many left – keep holding on, T-Model Ford!) and other musicians, but it doesn’t help me feel any less angry about all the musicians who died before those funds existed. And it doesn’t make my heart ache any less for musicians today who work their asses off for fear of losing it all the next day.

Music Maker Relief Foundation
Rhythm & Blues Foundation

Slackday: Better than porn.

mr. Gnome: best band to come out of Cleveland or best band to come out of Cleveland? Those sexy-ass kids played a little loft gig in Seattle on their recent tour. Here’s some footage from Jonathan Houser.

http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=11415989&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=f09400&fullscreen=1

Mr. Gnome 1 from Jonathan Houser on Vimeo.

http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=11412856&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=f09400&fullscreen=1

Mr. Gnome 2 from Jonathan Houser on Vimeo.

Nicole and Sam are back home and working on their next album (or will be if Nicole can lure Sam back from going feral – it’s best not to ask). They’ve also added some massively cool shit to their already massively cool online store, like a spectacular vinyl “bag” set and the regenerated “Better than porn.” shirt.