There's obscure, and then there's obscure. Andy Shauf is obscure.
Shauf is a Regina singer/songwriter, in my opinion favorably comparable to Iron and Wine and Sufjan Stevens amongst the quasi-folk set. I first heard his music at the 2009 Regina Folk Festival and was absolutely blown away by the sensitivity of his guitar playing, his fine sense of melody, his crystal clear vocals, and his evocative and elegant style.
He has put out a full length album, Darker Days, and another EP, Waiting for the Sun to Leave, both of which are excellent and feature more polished songwriting and production than we hear on Four Songs. But there is a touching naivete to the latter, and it features perhaps my favorite Shauf song, "I Am Lost."
Our featured tune is the second of two from the below performance at a tiny Brooklyn venue. The audience is breathless here, as if expecting at any moment the tender, gossamer melody and whispered guitar to collapse in on itself. Please watch and listen to the entire video -- it provides a good sense of Shauf's best qualities as a performer, connecting to his audience with an aching melancholy reminiscent of Lyle Lovett or Nick Drake's quietest moments, not to mention insight into his appealing self-deprecating manner.
Why do certain artists or bands become superstars, while others work and create in relative obscurity? You can argue that Elbow does not deserve worldwide stardom, that the music simply does not pass muster. An untenable position, in my opinion, but there is certainly room for personal bias in matters such as these. What seems less open to debate is that Elbow should achieve worldwide stardom, that the music is both soulful and grandiose, both sensitive and bombastic, both jazzy nightclub and 80,000 seat stadium. It bears repeated listenings. My hand itches to lift my lighter into the cool night air...
And lead singer Guy Garvey looks like Ricky Gervais' lost twin. Which doesn't hurt. Or help. Hell, it just is. Garvey has one of the great voices in modern music, and he is a consummate melodist. He oozes - like crushed foil - musicality. His voice is supple, buttery, but with enough of a carefully modulated sandpaper rasp to veer round the sort of sameness that dooms Nat King Cole and Bing Crosby and a whole generation of crooners to the expectations of a contemporary listener.
There are times when Elbow borders on the maudlin. There are times when Elbow reaches beyond sensitive and musical into cliche and vapidity. And then there are times like this. Enjoy them now, before they win their inevitable dozen or so Grammys. You will say, "I was there, you know, before they hit it big..." Feel free to cite me as your source.
The irony is that recently I've been listening to more music than ever. I know, I know. As far as you're concerned I may as well be talking out of my ass. I mean, the proof is in the pudding, as my grandfather used to say. And, granted, of late there's been very little pudding around here. The fact remains, however, that not only have I been listening to more music than ever, but also I have been experiencing more music than ever.
But then it's that time of year, isn't it? Come July and August, Folk Festival Fever blazes through the granola-fed, the hemp swathed, and the bushy bearded sets. Hankering for a Che Guevera shirt to wear to the next family picnic? Come on down to the folk festival, where an assortment of revolutionary iconography emblazons outerwear of all kinds.* Eager to listen to shambling twenty-somethings busk their way through the Dylan discography with only a penny whistle and washboard? Well, you've come to the right place, sister!
Three weeks ago: Calgary. Last week: Regina. Two folk festivals, two vastly different musical and cultural experiences. Calgary is huge. Like, huge. Gorgeous location. Crowded as fuck. And the atmosphere at times leaves something to be desired, especially on the main stage where I was often left watching the show on two jumbo screens erected about 100 meters from the performers. One amongst ten thousand plus, my experience was often more like that of a stadium concert than an intimate community gathering of like minded souls. Regina, on the other hand...
Well, I love the Regina Folk Festival. The musical line-up is favorably comparable to the larger festivals, but it maintains a lovely vibe. Let me put it this way: there's not a chance in hell that I might reverse haggle for a piece of Marxist clothing with anyone in Calgary, but in Regina it's almost par for the course. There are still thousands of people at the main stage, but even arriving later in the evening, as I did, I was able to find an open patch of grass with an excellent view.
As an aside, did you know that folk festivals nowadays are not really "folk" festivals? There are lots of folky type performers, for sure, but there are equal numbers of what might be considered "alternative" artists and young up and coming rock/pop bands on the docket as well. In other words, if you're at all interested in new music, find your way to the nearest folk festival. You won't be sorry.
I wanted to attend Calgary mostly to hear one of my musical icons, the New York folk/classical/experimental jazz oriented Robin Holcomb. Holcomb is about as obscure a performer as you'll find, but I've listened to, and felt a deep affinity for, her music for over two decades. Imagine Sam Phillips bathed in luxurious dissonance. Or a magisterial, abstract expressionist Sarah Harmer.
I purchased her eponymous debut album on a whim. It was in a discount bin jumbled amongst eleventy-three Vanilla Ice and MC Hammer discs, on sale for a song due to a small manufacturer's defect in the casing. And she sure looked purty. And she had me by the very first track of that remarkable CD.
It must be said that at times Holcomb looked a little out of place in Calgary. She is now in her 50s and might best be described as matronly, and she was surrounded for the most part by lithesome youngsters. Nevertheless she is a regal presence, and I still found her crazy beautiful, even compared to the hipster set. Especially compared to the hipster set. She first hosted a workshop entitled "Some Fine Lines" which included another of my long-time faves Joe Henry** and one of the biggest draws of the festival, Oscar winning musicians (and actors!) The Swell Season, both of whom are characterized by relatively conventional story telling and relatively straight forward music. Not really Holbomb's oeuvre, and her smaller, haunting Apallachian-inflected tunes got a little lost amidst the bombast. But her second workshop the following day, aptly titled "The Abstract Expressionists," gave her ample opportunity to shine. She performed three of my favorite songs, and I was lucky enough to record the entirety of one of the gems from her debut record. The song is called "So Straight And Slow":
I will never forget that tiny slice of my life.
There were many other interesting performers in Calgary. I really liked the Billy Bragg-esque solo work of former punk, Frank Turner (skip ahead to 1:40 for the start of the set). Burning Hell, spectacularly unpretentious, kicked ass live. Vancouver band E.S.L. was the bee's knees (good luck finding any info about them online; no, they are not that shitty Japanese band). Also of note were Thea Gilmore, Timber Timbre and Ghostkeeper. And yeah, the big name acts like Stars and Michael Franti also performed, but in my opinion were almost incidental to my festival experience.
Phew! Alright, enough for today. I'll continue with more from the Regina Folk Festival tomorrow.
* I engaged in a fun little bit of reverse haggling with my socialist-inclined vendor. I asked him how much he wanted for a khaki colored Che print shirt, and he replied in mock seriousness, "Five bucks. What'll you give me?!" I laughed and told him I'd give him twenty, at which he looked me up and down and said with a wry smile, "Three for ten!" Viva la Revolucion!
** Guilt by association trivia: Joe Henry is Madonna's brother in law. Heh.
Midnight Oil
Album: 10,9,8,7,6...
Song: Power And The Passion
Back from hiatus. Immersing myself in music at the moment, digging most of it. Lots of blog posts to come in the near future. Thanks for your patience.*
But before we explore more of the good new stuff...
Laurel and Hardy. Bonnie and Clyde. Sonny and Cher. Two peas in a pod, all. To that list let me add our very own Stephen Harper and Yo-Yo Ma. Here the frown prince shows us his -- to this point extremely well hidden -- light hearted and mischievous side.
He gets high with a little help from his friends. Nary an ironic wink to be seen. This guy has some chutzpah.
Alright, enough tomfoolery. Listen to this. A little Aussie band called Midnight Oil with a penchant for social criticism and political activism. Which is cool and all but I like them cos their lead singer is a spastic bald giant. Check out in particular 1:35-1:45 when that great ranging ostrich of a man grabs a bouncer by the collar and tears him a new one for being too rough with an aspiring stage diver. You just can't fake this shit.
What does this have to do with our lovable PM Harper? Well, that spastic bald ostrich is Peter Garrett, who for the last six years has been Australia's Minister for the Environment and Performing Arts. So, while we get a passionless dorky ditty from our political leader, the Aussies get this. Incidentally, both performances took place within six months of each other.
Dammit. We already knew that Norwegians are cooler than Canadians. So are Aussies, it turns out. We're slipping, folks...
* Incidentally, thanks to everyone who contributed to the discussion during my absence. Some great stuff there. In particular I appreciate the efforts of Scott and GC to get to the heart of Joanna Newsom's tune. Both of you approached the problem from interesting perspectives and frankly I think both of you came closer to the "truth" than I did. Hopefully we can continue to dive into the analytical waters on a regular basis.
Attention all guitar geeks: if you don't know Shugo Tokumaru you're missing out on something special. In short, Shugo is the man. Technically proficient and original. Great little riff in this tune, perfectly suited to his charming folk pop style.
Incidentally, this is another tune that de-emphasizes the lyrical component of songwriting. I'm not trying to make a consistent argument in this blog, but the longer I write about these songs the less important text seems to become. Heh.
Leonard Cohen. Sigh. I'm supposed to love him. He's an icon, internationally loved. And Canadian. "Suzanne" and "Hallelujah" regularly appear on "Best Song" lists. But... Jeez. I mean... Boring. Boring. Just... Boring. Beautiful poetry. I guess. Like, it's okay. But the music. God almighty. Sigh. Feel like half-traitor for suggesting he's anything less than brilliant.
