Tag: 230907

Classic folk rock

Jon Pousette-Dart Trio performing at the Rex

In the second half of the 1970s, the Pousette-Dart Band was one of Boston’s most ubiquitous acts. Songs like “Harder,” “Amnesia” and “What Can I Say” were staples on rock radio, and leader Jon Pousette-Dart’s connection with concert promoter Don Law and his Premier Talent company had them on the road constantly, appearing in concert halls, arenas and stadiums supporting some of the decade’s biggest names.

Opening for acts like James Taylor, Peter Frampton, Billy Joel and Journey got them a lot of exposure, though not every pairing worked; one harrowing 1976 night in Jersey City opening for Yes, loutish fans tossed fruit and other projectiles on the stage. Mostly, it was just fun playing in a world with few rules, where a folksy act like PDB could be a last-minute substitution for raunch rockers Black Oak Arkansas on a tour with the jazz prog Mahavishnu Orchestra.
“It was really kind of uncharted territory,” Pousette-Dart said in a recent phone interview. “It wasn’t defined and cut and dried as it is now. You would have this real cross-section of bills, and Don really threw us out on all kinds of things.”

The band broke up in 1981, reunited 10 years later for a series of shows and released a final “best of” album in 1994. As a solo artist, Pousette-Dart has released 10 records. The most recent is 2015’s Talk. When he performs in Manchester with guitarist Jim Chapdelaine and bass player Steve Roues, he’ll draw from the breadth of his career.

“I go through all of the songs that really have had legs, that people respond to,” he said. “It’s decades’ worth of material really, and I do like to throw in a few obscure covers that are kind of off the radar. I always like to find songs that I have an affinity toward … it runs the gamut from rock ’n’ roll, country, blues and folk, all kinds of influences; because that’s just the nature of who I am.”
There’s Little Feat’s “Roll Um Easy,” a Woody Guthrie song and “an old Louvin Brothers tune I picked up,” but as for the rest, Pousette-Dart is coy. “There’s a few more, but I’ll keep them in suspense.”

His trio is a time-tested unit. He’s known Roues since he was a kid — “we literally grew up and played in high school bands together,” he said. Pousette-Dart and Chapdelaine have collaborated for nearly 25 years, most of them based in Nashville, where the first PDB album was made in 1974.

The making of 1976’s Pousette-Dart Band, with Boston mime Trent Arterberry on the cover, is an interesting story that eventually led him to become a permanent resident of Music City.

Legendary label exec Al Coury signed the group to Capitol Records, then quit 10 days following a power struggle. The label’s new regime didn’t know what to do with them, so they were dispatched to work with producer Norbert Putnam in Nashville. They arrived at the same studio where Dobie Gray was just finishing up recording “Drift Away.”

“That made a big impression on me,” Pousette-Dart said. “It was the beginning of my relationship with Nashville, and through the years, I’ve made a lot of really close friends that I’m still attached to. … It’s been a very long-term dialogue and relationship for me since the ’70s.”

His most recent release harkens back to that decade. “I Remember You” was inspired by “In a Silent Way,” a song that Mahavishnu John McLaughlin played on as a member of the Miles Davis Group. It’s unlike anything Pousette-Dart has done before, inspired by his initial reaction to the Davis song.
“Certain records just stopped you in your tracks,” he said. “That was one of those.”

He brought an improvisational approach to the song’s delicate, pulsing melody, adding lyrics about being spellbound by a chance meeting, and his fear that it was fleeting. “I remember you like the first star I ever saw,” he sings. “I was so scared I would never know who you were.”

The essence of simultaneous discovery and creation lends a magical feeling to the song. “It felt like the way they came upon it and how it landed,” Pousette-Dart said, adding “usually, I tend to write things out and know where I’m going. That song was just really putting it out there.”

He continued, “I really enjoyed doing that piece … it’s nice when you find those connections to things that go back to that era [when] you first heard Hendrix, The Beatles, Muddy Waters. Certain things, you put them on, and you go, ‘Oh my God.’ You can remember exactly where you were standing when you first heard it. There are certain things in your life that are like that.”

Jon Pousette-Dart Trio
When: Thursday, Sept. 7, 6 p.m.
Where: Rex Theatre, 23 Amherst St., Manchester
Tickets: $29 at palacetheatre.org

Featured photo: Jon Pousette -Dart. Courtesy photo.

The Music Roundup 23/09/07

Local music news & events

  • Faux fighters: The Currier’s weekly Art After Work series continues with Foo! A Foo Fighters tribute band, their greatest trick will be fitting arena-sized songs like “Best of You,” “Times Like These” and “Learning to Fly” onto the museum’s front lawn (weather permitting), when they perform in front of the iconic di Suvero statue. Attendees are encouraged to bring their own picnic blankets and chairs for the event. Thursday, Sept. 7, 5 p.m., Currier Museum of Art, 150 Ash St., Manchester, currier.org.
  • Setting sail: Paying tribute to a music genre that doesn’t officially exist, the Yacht Lobsters latch onto ’70s soft rock with a vengeance, with songs from Hall & Oates, Steely Dan, Toto, the Doobie Brothers and a boatload more. Of course, Christopher Cross’s “Sailing” makes an appearance at every set. The NYC-based band was formed by the team behind Brother Joscephus and the Love Revolution. Friday, Sept. 8, 8 p.m., Angel City Music Hall, 179 Elm St., Unit B, Manchester, $15 to $48 at ticketweb.com.
  • Irish farewell: After more than 50 years together, Clannad is doing a final tour playing the traditional Irish music that inspired worldwide acclaim. Siblings Moya, Ciarán and Pól Brennan formed the band with their now-late uncles Pádraig and Noel Duggan and became a six-piece with Enya Brennan, who went on to a stellar solo career. They have collaborated with Bono, Steve Perry and others. Saturday, Sept. 9, 8 pm., Nashua Center for the Arts, 201 Main St., Nashua, $49 and up at etix.com.
  • Rock show: Best-known as the leader of prog-metal band Queensrÿche, Geoff Tate brings his latest project, Big Rock Show Hits, to town. He promises a big, loud show, bringing three guitarists on stage: Scotsman Kieran Robertson, James Brown of Ireland and Boston’s Alex Hart. The setlist includes “Silent Lucidity,” “I Don’t Believe in Love,” “Eyes of a Stranger,” “Empire” and other hits. Sunday, Sept. 10, 7 p.m., Tupelo Music Hall, 10 A St., Derr, $45 and up at tupelohall.com.

Meg 2: The Trench (PG-13)

More sharks eat more people in Meg 2: The Trench, a sequel to 2018’s The Meg.

Jonas Taylor (Jason Statham) is headed back to the ocean for a deep water exploration and brings along Meiying (Sophia Cai), the now teenage daughter of Suyin (Li Bingbing), the lady scientist who I guess married Jonas after the events of the first movie but sadly died before the events of this movie, probably of reading the script for this sequel. Meiying is eager to be involved with the family business of ocean exploration — her uncle Jiuming (Wu Jing) now runs the research at the Mana One, an oil-platform-like scientific facility near the Mariana Trench. He’s received funding from businesswoman Hillary Driscoll (Sienna Guillory, whom the movie so badly wants to be Parker Posey) and somehow he’s able to justify keeping a megalodon, one of the giant dinosaur sharks from the last movie, as a little pet.

Most of the major characters, and a few that we won’t miss when they get eaten, load into two submarines to head down into the Mariana Trench and explore. They find sharks, sure, but also a far more unexpected creature — man!

That man is represented by Montes (Sergio Peris-Mencheta), the leader of a gang of sketchy dudes who are performing some sort of mining operation in the deep. Attempting to get rid of those goody-goody scientists, Montes detonates the mining explosives and now it becomes a race for everyone to survive the intense pressure, the hungry animals and the violence-perpetrating bad guys in the deep of the ocean and get back to the surface.

In its final third or so, Meg 2 gets very dumb/much better with more man vs. other man vs. trench-creature face-offs, the introduction of a giant octopus and lots of people being eaten, to include in a shot from inside a shark’s mouth when we get to see it chomp down on some vacationers. This, I thought during that shot in particular, this should have been the whole movie — terrible CGI and loathsome characters being eaten. Instead the movie spends a laughable amount of time trying to, like, set up motivations, tell us a little story about corporate greed destroying the environment and let us get to know the characters (inartfully, but still it wastes time on this). I am not here for character development; I am here for big, goofy-looking sharks chomping on people. “More goofy sharks in this goofy shark movie, please” is what I thought for most of the movie. C

Rated PG-13 for action/violence, some bloody images, language and brief suggestive material, according to the MPA on filmratings.com. Directed by Ben Wheatley with a screenplay by Jon Hoeber & Erich Hoeber and Dean Georgaris, Meg 2: The Trench is one hour and 56 minutes long and is distributed by Warner Bros. It is available for rent or purchase via VOD.

Featured photo: Meg 2: The Trench

Wifedom, by Anna Funder

Wifedom, by Anna Funder (Knopf, 464 pages)

Never meet your heroes, goes the old adage. A corollary should be “Never read the letters written by their wives about them.”

Unfortunately, for fans of George Orwell, nee Eric Blair, in 2005 a series of letters was discovered, written by his first wife, Eileen O’Shaughnessey, to her best friend. Compared to the hundred of thousands of words written by Orwell, and about him, the letters represented just drops in the proverbial bucket. But those drops made waves. And now they are the basis for a partly imagined book about the couple that lionizes Eileen at the expense of her husband. Read at your own risk.

Funder is an Australian writer who immersed herself in Orwell during a time when she was dissatisfied with the demands of her life as a wife and a mother while trying to fulfill her own professional ambitions. After reading his books and a half-dozen biographies, she moved on to Eileen’s letters, curious as to why Eileen was largely invisible in what had been written about Orwell. This is not a particularly original question when it comes to the wives of famous men; books have been written in recent years, for example, that introduce the little-known wives of Albert Einstein and Ernest Hemingway, among others.
But Funder brings a certain fury to her endeavor, because of her own domestic unhappiness and the concurrent river of discontent that flowed toward the patriarchy throughout the #MeToo years. She weaves her own unhappiness with that of Eileen, who died tragically on an operating table at age 39, though any real kinship between the two seems greatly exaggerated.

The Orwell that Eileen’s letters introduce us to is a petulant, entitled, unfaithful misogynist. The Eileen that Funder introduces us to is a brilliant, selfless martyr. His needs supersede hers at all times; even when they adopt a son at his request, he is not present when it’s time to pick up the infant. He’s an absentee husband and would have been an absentee father if they’d both lived long enough. As it is, she died at 39, Orwell at 46.

The story of her death is heartbreaking and evokes the problems of many in the working class today. The couple made too little money to cover their bills but too much to qualify for charity care. When she was diagnosed with cancer and needed a hysterectomy, she chose the cheapest doctor and hospital she could find, because, she wrote, “what worries me is that I really don’t think I’m worth the money for better care.” She died of heart failure on the operating table. Her husband was in Paris, where he had been socializing with Ernest Hemingway. He later responded to someone’s condolences by saying, “Yes, she was a good old stick.”

There’s a line in the late Keith Green’s song “So You Wanna Go Back to Egypt,” in which the ancient Israelites in the desert are complaining about their lot, saying “Moses seems rather idle / He just sits around and writes the Bible.”
That comes to mind while Funder recounts the work Orwell did with Eileen providing support. In the first six months of their marriage, Funder notes, he finished his “Shooting an Elephant” essay, wrote The Road to Wigan Pier, reviewed 32 books and composed two lengthy articles. In the last days of his life, Orwell would describe the incessant need to produce, writing “all my writing life there has literally not been one day in which I did not feel that I was idling … and that my total output was miserably small.”

Maybe someone that obsessive about work should hire a secretary instead of taking a wife, I don’t know. The pair were both miserable in their own ways, it seems, and both cursed with ill health. Funder’s overarching complaint is the “conditions of production” for high-achieving men. “So many of these men benefited from a social arrangement defying both the moral and the physical laws of the universe in which the unpaid, invisible work of a woman creates the time and neat, warmed and cushion-plumped space for their work,” Funder writes. In other words, like many contemporary women, she’d like a wife, too, or at least someone who would provide the traditional services of one. She later says, “Access to time, as to any other valuable good, is gendered.”

True as this still may be in some families, there has been progress on this front in the author’s life, and even in previous generations there have been women who have managed visible, professional success while married to high-achieving men and raising children.

This is not to say that Orwell wasn’t a first-class jerk who didn’t deserve the saint of a woman he married. But Wifedom, while not entirely fiction, is speculative, and Funder is clear that she came to the story with an agenda. Her achievement may not be so much truth as it is disillusion. B-

Album Reviews 23/09/07

Dijahsb, Tasty Raps Vol. 2 [self-released]

This Toronto-based nonbinary rapper has a Polaris Music Prize to their credit, along with a rep for good dramedy, not Skee Lo-level or anything like that, but it’s indeed kind of uplifting hearing of this person’s trials and tribulations and how they’re handling them. Not that this is all frighteningly innovative, mind you; in this follow-up EP, they do a lot of pedestrian name-checking throughout, starting with the wishful-thinking exposé “I Fell Like Rihanna,” where they reference Usher and whatnot amid lines confessing to the end-stage-capitalist woes they’ve suffered through the years. One thing I was OK with was the principal’s constant use of woozy, warped-vinyl effects-age, a gimmick that does get redundant after a couple of songs, but as always it’s better than loud trap-drums (theirs are comparatively way down in the mix, praise Allah). Despite their look, the vocals aren’t tomboyish at all, more representative of the person doing the fronting, a lost soul who’s got a little way to go before they’re ready to show their true feelings, if that even matters these days. A-

Choke Chain, Mortality (Phage Tapes Records)

And there I went again, obediently surfing to an advance link for an album professing to be influenced by the likes of Skinny Puppy, Front Line Assembly, Leæther Strip and all that other seriously dark techno, but at least this time I wasn’t as disappointed as I’ve been so many times before. This Milwaukee-based producer (real name Mark Trueman) is big into beats that are dystopian and unforgiving, and the good thing is that he doesn’t refry every sound in the industrial playbook. It’s not cartoonishly spazzy like Combichrist’s first album or anything like that, but its truly doomy atmospherics will, I think, appeal to the sensibilities of the goth crowd. Includes Trueman’s take on black-metal vocals (a la Deafheaven, amazingly enough, isn’t as common an ingredient in modern industrial as you might expect); the overall effect recalls the work of Terrorfakt, if that rings any bells at all. A+

Playlist

  • On Sept. 8 The Chemical Brothers will release a new album, called For That Beautiful Feeling, and I will look forward to it, or something! No, you remember the Chemical Brothers and all those raves you went to at the abandoned warehouses, and the time — uh, yeah, I’d better not tell that story, just forget it, but you remember their old hits, like “Galvanize” and “Block Rockin’ Beats,” I’m sure. Actually, I knew I’d arrived as an official music journalist when the Chemical Brothers’ “people” begged me to write about the remastered version of the album that had the crab on it, and I talked about it here in these very pages, you remember that, right? I liked that album. In the meantime, I’ve been out of the velvet-rope music scene for around 10 years now, and every once in a while someone will send me a ne techno/house/trance album, and they’ll be all like “Hey man, this is a quantum leap forward from where the genre was back in the days of Aphex Twin,” you know, when gentlemen would settle romantic-triangle disputes with dueling pistols at 10 paces, you know, in the good old days. Of course, every single time, like clockwork, the music was nothing new, especially when Britney Spears and all the other Vegas diva singing ladies were all about hiring house and trance producers to make their songs sound 15 years out of date, but the MTV guys were all like “Can you even believe how technologically advanced this stuff is, kids?” and I’d just sit there drinking pink umbrella drinks and trying to ignore the fact that they knew not what they were talking about. But it’s all good, never mind all that, let’s go check in on this album, oh look, the whole thing is available on YouTube, saddle up, folks. Hm, there’s a song called “All Of A Sudden,” which refries 2004-era Tiesto. That’s fine by me, just saying; in fact I think there should be more of that. I’m not going to listen to the whole album, because if that tune is representative of it, it’s throwback stuff. Maybe some skater kids will hear it by accident and it will improve their lives, or at least their artistic sensibilities, it’s all good in my book.
  • Irish singer, songwriter and musical-whatever person Róisín Murphy used to be half of the duo Moloko along with British musician Mark Brydon. There’s a slim but real chance that you’ve heard her vocals elsewhere, such as the time she contributed them to David Byrne and Fatboy Slim’s project Here Lies Love, or, even less likely, Crookers’ album Tons of Friends. And such and so, but her new solo album is Hit Parade, which features the new tune “CooCool,” a trip-hop ditty that’s undergirded by an old Wallflowers organ sample or whatever it is. It’s listenable despite the fact that it never really goes anywhere, not that that’s an original approach in the current zeitgeist.
  • Relatively obscure Richmond, Virginia, college-radio band Sparklehorse has basically been defunct for over 12 years, since the death of bandleader Mark Linkous, but fans who’ve been awaiting their final LP, Bird Machine, will finally see it released just hours from now. The single, “Evening Star Supercharger,” is a Wilco-ish/George Harrison-ish pop trifle, artistically worthless but OK.
  • And lastly, it’s British neo-beatnik Angus Fairbairn, with a new album of sax-jazz and spoken-word stuff, Come With Fierce Grace. One of the tunes, “Greek Honey Slick,” is a skronk-noise exercise with lots of honking sax, no singing nor any point to it, but I’m sure this fellow enjoyed making it.

If you’re in a local band, now’s a great time to let me know about your EP, your single, whatever’s on your mind. Let me know how you’re holding yourself together without being able to play shows or jam with your homies. Send a recipe for keema matar. Message me on Twitter (@esaeger) or Facebook (eric.saeger.9).

Cold Cucumber Soup with Pistachios

Ugh. We’ve been walking for days.

Half an hour, actually.

HONK!!

Yeah! Same to YOU, buddy!”

Actually, we probably just made his day; being able to honk at clueless tourists has to be a treat for him.

Sweet leaping Moses, could it GET any hotter? Whose idea was this trip?

OK, mine, but why did they agree to come to the city during the hottest weather of the year?

Sigh. Because I’m so charming. Curse my charm!

Wait. Is that it, up there at the end of the block? That guy on the subway said to look for people sitting outside, eating soup. Seriously, who would eat soup in this weather?

No, they’re definitely eating soup. Is it COLD soup? Is that a thing? That actually sounds really good right now.

“Yes, hi. Three of us for dinner. Could you please bring us some beer and whatever that cold soup is? You are a kind and beautiful human being.”

Cold Cucumber Soup

Like gazpacho, this is a cold summer soup. It’s light and creamy and very, very refreshing. Unlike gazpacho, this is cucumber-based.

Seriously — try it.

  • 2 English cucumbers – the long, skinny, individually wrapped ones. Alternatively, four regular-sized conventional cucumbers
  • 1 clove garlic, peeled and crushed
  • 3 Tablespoons chopped fresh dill
  • 2½ cups (36 ounces) cold buttermilk
  • 1 cup (8 ounces) half & half
  • 2 teaspoons kosher salt
  • 1 teaspoon ground black pepper
  • 2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
  • 1 cup roasted, salted pistachios

Peel the cucumbers. Leave a few small ribbons of peel, to help color the soup. If you are not using seedless cucumbers, cut them in half lengthwise and scoop out the seeds with a spoon.

Set one fourth of the cucumbers aside, and put the rest into the jar of your blender.

Add the garlic, dill and buttermilk. Blend until smooth.

Chop the remaining cucumber into small dice. Put it in a large bowl.

Pour the blended cucumber mixture into the bowl, then whisk in the cream, salt, pepper and mustard. Season to taste.

Chill for one hour, or until very cold. Just before serving, stir in the pistachios.

Garnish with more fresh dill. It’s easy to take cucumbers for granted. In normal circumstances, they are secondary characters at best, giving texture and a tiny amount of flavor to a given dish. In this soup they get to be the heroes.

The cream, appropriately enough, adds creaminess, and the garlic and mustard do what they do, and the pistachios give the operation some crunchiness, but the heavy lifting in this soup is done by the cucumbers and the buttermilk. Most of us use buttermilk from time to time in baking, but it is good to be able to actually taste it in a dish that lets it shine.

As I say, though, the hero of this dish is the cucumber.

Featured photo: Cold Cucumber Soup with Pistachios. Photo by John Fladd.

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