Urban Folk

the zine on the acoustic scene

Timothy
Dark
Issue 13
Fall 2007

Free for
You and Me!
 Urban Folk: Lucky 13: the Autumnal Issue

Summer’s over. Time to stop relaxing and get back into the groove of making music, booking shows, recording
albums... and not sweating. There’s really been too much of that, lately.
As the heat gets more bearable, it’s a good time to take stock, to reflect on why we’re doing all this: the
performing, the watching of performances, the singing, the songwriting, the reviewing, all the crap that we all do.
It’s to have sex. Don’t deny it. You might think you’re an artist so you can express yourself, come to terms with
important emotional issues in your youth, or because you’re so angry at the military-industrial complex that you
honestly believe a three-minute pop ditty will take it down. But really, what’s it all about?
Well, I said it a line or two above. It’s to get chicks - whatever ‘chick’ might mean to you. Don’t deny it. And if you
deny it, I don’t want to hear it.
Anyway, it’s a shame that with the heat no longer burning holes in our heads, everyone will start to wear
more layers. But then again, the way I’m built, maybe it’s a godsend... and speaking of godsends, John Houx
copy-edited this issue, and did a fantabulous job (and yes, he could probably tell you that fantabulous isn’t a
word - that’s just how good he is!). Anyway, dude, thanks for the eediting.
Jonathan Berger, editor
IN THIS ISSUE:

COVER DESIGNED BY MASTER HERB SCHER. 1

TIMOTHY DARK W HEN HE SAYS, "TIMOTHY," YOU SAY "DARK!" ANTIFOLK'S RAPPER TALKS DAN COSTELLO. 4
ELASTIC NO-NO BAND JON GLOVIN ASKS QUESTIONS OF JUSTIN REMER. ANSWERS LIE WITHIN. 6
MY PRETTY ONE FREDO FLINTSTONÉ ON DEBORAH T. 10
DAN ASSELIN EMILY MOMENT DOUBLETEAMS DAN AND BUDDHA. 12
HERB SCHER HE TAKES THE PICTURES THAT MAKES THE WHOLE SCENE SING. BRIAN SPEAKER WRITES ABOUT IT. 16
LIVE! RELIVE THE SPECIAL SHOWS YOU MISSED. THIS TIME:: LC F EST AND HUGGABROOMSTOCK. 18
GET IN THE MINIVAN BROOK PRIDEMORE WENT SOMEWHERE. W ANNA KNOW MORE? READ ON… 22
OMFUG J.J. HAYES WANTS YOU TO RETHINK RECORDED MUSIC, LIVE MUSIC, AND R. KELLY. 24
COSTELLO'S W EB DAN COSTELLO LISTENS TO MUSIC AND LIVES TO TELL THE TALE. 27
RECORD REVIEWS REVIEWS OF CHARLES, CHEESE, THE LEADER, RICHARD, SCOTTS AND W ILLIE. 28

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Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 2
 Timothy Dark
...from the darkness...
by Dan Costello
“I didn’t know what Dylan they were talking about,” Timo-
thy Dark says to me. All the kids he met at the AntiHoot
were white guitar players, and they keep talking about
this Dylan guy…
”This Dylan?” he remembers thinking. He points to Dylan
Nirvana, a Sidewalk veteran who is heading out after
we talked a long time about how Timothy Dark was on
the early tip of rap/rock mashups. I mean, there was
Run-DMC and De La Soul, and I guess, well, Jay-Z
was creepin’… Well, OK, a lot of people were starting
to play more rap/rock fusion songs in 2001. But Tim
Dark was doing it at the Sidewalk. With hot chick gui-
tar players, live singers, and by all reports, great inten-
sity. Tim’s new CD Darkroom is a successful mash-up
that displays his growing ability to combine streetwise
attitude with spiritual insight. We sit in the basement
during an AntiHoot and chat. I take some notes. Timo-
thy Dark came to Sidewalk Cafe in 2001 and had no
idea Bob Dylan was “THAT famous....”
Born in the Bronx, he was the only black kid on a Puerto
Rican block. That may have made his transition to the
East Village a bit easier, when he walked into the Side-
walk Cafe and started spilling rhymes as part a duo
called Fallen Angelz. He immediately noticed the com-
mon elements between him and guys like Cockroach
or Paleface, people who are not afraid
to speak their mind, expressing their
personal feelings with unique delivery.
People talking about what was happen-
ing to them, and the people around
them.
But rap? At Sidewalk? C’mon, this is a
novelty. I mean, the Pyramid Club is
across the street! I never see any cross-
over, Tim. Why would you come over
here, instead of over there? Wouldn’t it
be easier to tread the boards at a rap
club instead of a songwriter club? Tim
says the difference is not so clear. “I
came to Sidewalk, and I didn’t see
such a division. I mean, Don
McCloskey, he’s rapping. Beau
Johnson even, I used to say that to him,
“You’re rapping right there” and he’d
say ‘Nah.’” Tim mentions Jon Berger.
Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 4
photos by Herb Scher
“Poetry and Rap are cousins, real close.”
Mainstream rappers weren’t being creative musically
in 2001. They were sampling Dido and Marvin Gaye. It
was Slim Shady, Ja Rule and Fabolous, it was H to the
I.Z.Z.O. OK, it was also “Ms. Jackson,” which received
ample and due praise. But mostly the road was well-
paved with Hos and Tricks. Songs about bitches and
niggas were on mainstream radio. Tim doesn’t like it,
but “nigga” had entered the common rap vocabulary.
And he, like new Sidewalk rapper Theory (who joined
our conversation and is quite the self-promoter), wouldn’t
call a woman a bitch in a song. He might use it as a
description of how someone else refers to women. Tim’s
a hustler but a good-hearted one. He wants you to hear
the music. He’s not trying to get rich, nor running away
from getting rich. By his account, he sold 1,000 copies
of his first CD Dark Warrior by standing on the streets
in the East Village (“Right out there,” he points toward
the front of the club), from noon til 1am most days each
week.
He would play the C-Note, where “the rapper always
got the last slot.” If he walked in with a girl though, he
could get a better number. It was Sidewalk where he
felt accepted and at home. “Lach, from the day I walked
through the door, has been 100% supportive of me,
whatever I wanted to do.” Tim would
watch the guitar ingenuity of
Duende, watch Barry Bliss stare
down the audience
confrontationally. He began turning
his own feelings into political lyr-
ics. He started opening his eyes
when he performed. He started lis-
tening to Led Zeppelin and Joie
Dead Blonde Girlfriend.
Having been a catholic school stu-
dent for 12 years, Tim always em-
braced his spirituality. “I wanted to
go to church.” He enjoyed the sing-
ing, the praising. Eventually his
church became too cult-like, and
he needed to find a more balanced
spirituality. His music has both
overt and subtle religious elements.
He wrote a song called “Jesus
Lives,” about his personal
relationship with God.
When Kanye West re-
leased “Jesus Walks” a few
years later, Tim got lots of
phone calls from his rela-
tives, his friends, who no-
ticed the similarity.
“Kanye’s talking like he’s
the first person to rap about
God.”
Tim doesn’t think of himself
as a Christian Rapper. His
new album really embraces
the street-wise attitude of
Fallen Angelz, but doesn’t
get so focused on religion
it becomes exclusive. It’s
one man, one point of view,
not boxed into a sub-genre,
but rather, pulling from
Rock, Rap, Poetry, and
even dance music. The
girls sing the hooks, like
classic hip-hop. The gui-
tars are overdriven. There is
some soft reflection. There
is some loud rap.
Tim thinks Hip Hop needs
a U-turn. Russell Simmons
is on the right track, ask-
ing his artists to self-cen-
sor the words “bitch” and
“nigga.” But these words
are so embedded in the
mainstream rap music, Tim
thinks it may be hard to
eliminate them. The music
industry is hard for every-
one, he says, but at no
point has it occurred to him
to throw in the towel. “The
time I give up could be the
time that someone in the
crowd comes up and says, At the show, the crowd was a joyous mix of people:
‘I came from New Jersey to see you. Give me ten CDs.’” black, Puerto Rican, white, young, old, all different sorts.
Tim had a CD release party for Darkroom at Sidewalk The Sidewalk regulars looked around curiously, not rec-
a few months ago. The room was packed. Tim had a ognizing many familiar faces. They didn’t know what to
great band with Anne Husick, Jen Elliot, Lisa Bianco, do with this array of fans. What a shirtless black rap-
Dan Policar, and Dawn McGrath. He had some guest per with a mostly white female rock band was doing
MCs. Tim wanted the lights low, he always does. That’s onstage at a folk venue? Well, that seemed perfectly
the dark thing, he says. “You can’t have light without clear to everyone.
darkness. Plus one of my favorite bible passages says www.timothydark.tv
‘I will give you riches hidden in darkness...”(Isaiah 45:3)
Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 5
 Elastic No-No Band
Straight outta Toledo
by Jon Glovin photos by Herb Scher
What separates Ohio from most of the worthless states of this union is the large amount of good music that has
come out of there over the years. If you’re a music geek worth the title, you damn well know of Bone Thugs N
Harmony, Guided By Voices, Swearing at Motorists, Thomas Jefferson Slave Apartments, Times New Viking,
Albert Ayler, but you know what? There’s a new Ohiovian on the block. Straight out of Toledo comes the Elastic
No-No Band, a four-piece musical aggregation of front-man Justin Remer’s varied influences, idiosyncrasies, and
sense of humor. It started in 2004 as a way for Remer to get his tuition’s worth from NYU University. Utilizing the
Film Department’s studio equipment, Remer made four lo-fi albums. Eventually, he added Preston Spurlock,
Herb Scher and Doug Johnson to round out the sound and make the EN Band a reality. With half an album
already under his belt with this lineup, the Elastic No-No Band is ready for more.
Jon Glovin: What is the name of your new project? songs, but they’re not me, they’re all from the point of
Justin Remer: The new project is an album called My 3 view of people in movies, or characters in movies.
Addictions. And we’re going to stream it from a blog on JG: Yeah, the movie section is very strange.
the internet, starting in September, and we’ll have a CD JR:(laughing) Well, good. I’m glad you thought it was
release party September 24, which is my birthday. strange. And then the third section is “I” songs and the
JG: And your album, My 3 Addictions, has three sepa- I is me and I’m talking about real shit.
rate parts pertaining to your 3 addictions? JG: Sammy Shuster sings on two of those songs.
JR: Yeah, they are laid out in the title song. JR: She’s a singer-songwriter I met in a roundabout
JG: In the first two addictions, predominantly, you dealt way through Preston (Spurlock), who plays bass with
with your addictions in a rather joking way. Some of us and plays in tons of other bands. He had seen
your jokes worked, some didn’t. Some worked a few Sammy at the open mic at Sidewalk and had told her
times and then got tiring... that he would go to her show, and I happened to be
JR : (laughs) Don’t you know you’re supposed to lick with him. I thought she was great. I already had this
my ass when you’re interviewing me? You’re supposed song that I wrote as a duet, and it’s actually the last
to be like, “Your entire album was fucking brilliant.” song on the CD, “Nobody’s Wife.” So when I saw her, I
had this click in the back of my head: “Maybe I should
JG: Whatever, I don’t care.
befriend this woman and see if she’ll sing my song.”
JR: What didn’t work for you, what got tiring? And I never thought it would go on this CD, because I
JG: I don’t know, I just found myself gravitating to the conceived My 3 Addictions as a ten-song cycle without
last three songs on the album, which deal with your it. But then we played the song live, and people were
addiction to women who won’t date you, which I thought like, “That song’s so great, you gotta record it,” so we
was the meatiest part of your album, the most sincere. slapped it on the end of the new CD.
JR: Yeah, it is. JG: Yeah... so... in Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours -
JG: And... yeah... I don’t remember where I was going JR: (laughing) Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours?
with this. JG: Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours. I read in a Chuck
JR: Okay. Well, I guess we could mention what the Klosterman book -
three addictions are. The first one is food, the second JR: Chuck Klosterman? Wow.
is movies, and the third one is women who won’t date
JG: Do you know who he is?
me. And my approach was that I didn’t want to do an
album full of “I” songs — like about me, like “I love you,” JR: Of course; the leading cultural critic of our time.
“I think things are blah blah blah.” So the food songs JG: Yes. So in a Chuck Klosterman book, Mr.
are all sort of about how food can be used, as opposed Klosterman was talking about this album Rumours, and
to just eating it. Like “Coffee Den” is about a social he was saying that Lindsay Buckingham - or whatever
situation where people go drink coffee, but really it’s to the hell that guy’s name is - he was in a relationship
try and meet people. I guess the movie ones are all “I” with one of the people, Nicky...
Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 6
JR: Stevie Nicks. where the woman, Zooey Deschanel, is in the shower.
JG: Yes, so... (opens iTunes on computer and puts on And then Will Ferrell starts singing along too, and I
“Never Going Back Again”) So... apparently, the whole was just like, “I should write something like that.” And
album is about their relationship, and Lindsay so I did. So that song exists because of Elf. That’s all
Buckingham has songs about how Stevie Nicks is a I wanted to say.
bitch, with Stevie Nicks sing-
ing backup on them.
JR: Well, that’s like that song
by Carly Simon, “You’re So
Vain.” Supposedly the per-
son she could be talking
about is Mick Jagger, and
Mick Jagger is singing
backup. So he might be sing-
ing “you’re so vain” to him-
self.
JG: I care not about Mick
Jagger. So... so...
JR: (laughing) This is so
stilted, but... okay...
JG: So with Sammy Shuster,
you have her singing on the
song “I’m in Lust With You.”
How well do you know this
girl?
JR: Oh, you’re saying, is she
the Stevie Nicks to my Lind-
say Buckingham? (JG
laughs) You just want gossip!
No, she’s not my Stevie
Nicks. That song is about a
different woman. Although,
frankly I’m the kind of guy
who gets a crush on every fe-
male he meets, so in a way,
yes, that song could be about
Sammy Shuster, but it could
also be about... your mother.
JG: You’ve never met my
mother.
JR: I’ve never met your
mother, but when I do...
(laughs) Good question,
though, very interesting. I
see your backhanded tactics.
JG: Is Sammy Shuster good-
looking?
JR: Yes, of course, she’s
good-looking. I do want to say real quick, though, that JG: On the song where you want to marry Laura
that song “Nobody’s Wife” was not actually written about Cantrell... and I didn’t know who Laura Cantrell is be-
a specific woman. There’s a scene in the movie Elf cause... I’m... young. (laughter) I didn’t know who she

Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 7

was, so I looked her up on Wikipedia... and why are we of issuing the album as a CD, I could just create a blog
listening to Big Black now? This is a travesty! from which people could download the album. I unfortu-
JR: That’s what iTunes does, it goes to the next song. nately have wasted too much money recording the al-
(JG messes with computer) bum, so I feel like I should make it a real CD and sell it.
But we will stream the album from the blog, adding a
JG: So, in the Laura Cantrell song, where you talk about new song every other day starting September 3, along
Liz Phair and Juliana Hatfield, you have harmonica with stories and free bonus tracks to download. So, it’s
breaks between each name. sort of a compromise: people can hear the album online,
JR: Yeah. but if they want to have it forever, then they can buy it.
JG: Good job. JG: Yeah.
JR: Yeah, that was Frank Hoier. I like to bring people JR: You’re just glassing over. I’m going on these plug-
up for the live show, just to make it special-er. And a a-ramas, and then you glass over and think, “What am
couple of times, I had Frank and Debe Dalton come up I gonna ask next?” (laughter) I might as well give you a
and play harmonica and banjo on the Laura Cantrell press release and tell you to put it into question and
song. And when I listened back to a live recording, I answer form. I’m a walking press release. (laughter;
really liked the way it sounded, so I made sure they JG changes the song) Ooh, what are we listening to
were on the new studio recording. now?
JG: For some reason, I thought it was Preston playing JG: The Gibson Brothers. (pseudo-Barbara Walters ac-
the harmonica. cent) They were pretty much a garage rock band.
JR: No, Preston plays melodica on the song “The Guy JR: Why are talking in a funny...? No one’s gonna hear
Who Dies.” And “melodica” sounds like “harmonica.” the tape. (JG starts laughing) No one’s gonna know
JG: No, it doesn’t. Does it? (JG puts on “The Guy Who you’re talking in a pseudo-Barbara Walters accent. I
Dies”) guess you can put in the parens “pseudo-Barbara
Walters accent.”
JR: Preston wanted to add melodica because he felt
the song needed a klezmer feel. You know klezmer? JG: Or we could just put this exchange in the interview.
JG: I do. JR: We’re getting very meta. Is there a garage-rock
connection to anything, or do you just like the tune?
JR: And I’m sure the readers of Urban Folk know what
klezmer is. JG: I just like the song. You know, I was pretty sur-
prised by the stylistic diver-
JG: Who reads Urban Folk?
sity on the album. Every
Does anybody read Urban
single song is pretty much
Folk?
different. Was that in-
JR: Does anybody? tended?
JG: I read it. JR: I like throwing a bunch
JR: I’ll probably read this issue. of styles together, but a lot
JG: I don’t read most of the ar- of it came from collabora-
ticles because they’re boring or tion with the rest of Elastic
they’re about people I don’t care No-No Band. Like “Sundaes
about. on a Sunday Afternoon”
used to have a
JR: I guess that’s a lesson not straightahead indie rock
to make this article boring. “On sound like “thud thud thud
the Porch with Jon Glovin and thud thud” when I wrote it.
Justin from Elastic No-No But when I started practic-
Band”: twelve pages of just ing with (piano player) Herb
“um”s and “er”s and “let me find (Scher) and Preston, and
that song.” (laughter) then even more when Doug
JG: So you have a blog. (Johnson) came on as our
JR: Yeah, my best friend has drummer, it just took on this
been really into music blogs, classic pop/50s rock feel.
and he suggested that instead The style really developed
from them. I like to add

Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 8

wacky studio touches, like the doowop backup singing
that’s on the recording, and Preston’s roommate at the
time came and played sort of punk rockabilly electric
guitar in the style of the band X, like on their song “Adult
Books.” You know X?
JG: I do know X, but I’m not sure that I approve of Los
Angeles.
JR: The album? I think “Adult Books” is on Wild Gift.
JG: No, I mean Los Angeles.
JR: (laughs) Oh, the city. X is pretty Los Angeles, that’s
for sure.
JG: So you first started with the Elastic No-No Band
name, contributing music for Troma?
JR: Yeah, I went to NYU for school. I got a Film and TV
degree.
JG: And have you seen an Ingmar Bergman film?
JR: I have indeed. I’m a very classy guy. Anyhow, I
discovered this room for recording voiceover. This was
before they had a shitload of ProTools rooms to do it,
and it was just one room with a mic, a mixer, and a CD
burner. That’s what I used for my first CD-R album,
under the name Elastic No-No Band. I was interning at
Troma, the company that brought us the Toxic Avenger
movies. I worked for them later, but when I interned
there, I created this song for their movie Tales From from the movie. That song became a lot more popular
the Crapper, which is easily the worst thing on my re- than I expected, with people at Sidewalk requesting it
sume. That song is on the first CD-R album, and that and stuff.
album can be downloaded for free from our website. JG: Do other film geeks get the song?
The song is called the “Sexy Chicken Song.” It’s kind JR: Of course. In fact, the first time I played it at the
of like if the Trashmen song “Surfin’ Bird” was about a AntiHoot at Sidewalk, when I got off the stage, a guy
retarded dry-heaving chicken, instead of a surfin’ bird. came up to me and said, “Dude, you gotta add a verse
Herb and I have a different song that’s on the soundtrack about Fassbinder.” I never have, but...
for the new Troma movie, Poultrygeist: Night of the
JG: Who’s Fassbinder?
Chicken Dead.
JR: He’s another German film director. But yeah, film
JG: How did you get an internship at Troma?
geeks get it, and non-film geeks like it just because of
JR: One weekend I watched Troma’s Bloodsucking the part in the song where I break down and start yell-
Freaks and Surf Nazis Must Die at a friend’s house, ing randomly at someone in the audience or at the band.
and I decided these folks seem like fun to work with.
JG: What else is there to ask? How did you come up
And it was, in a way. I’m glad I interned there, and I’m
with the name Elastic No-No Band?
glad I got a job there later, but I’m also glad I don’t work
there anymore. JR: It’s a pun on the name “Plastic Ono Band,” John
Lennon and Yoko Ono’s band. And I probably came up
JG: Do any filmmakers influence your songwriting?
with it when I was about 14, and it was just like, “If I
JR: What a strange question. I mean, I guess so, since ever have a band, I’ll call it this.” And obviously, I’m so
one-third of this album is songs about movies. The Klaus in touch my inner 14-year-old that I used the name.
Kinski song is actually a result of working at Troma, (JG nods and rubs his chin) What are you doing?
because one day, instead of working, a bunch of us sat There’s no camera crew! No one can see you nodding.
around and watched this documentary about Kinski (laughter)
called My Best Fiend that was done by Werner Herzog.
My 3 Addictions blog: my3addictions.blogspot.com
And, as sort of a joke amongst the Troma people, I
decided to make a song about Kinski, based on stuff Band website: elasticnonoband.com

Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 9

 My Pretty One
Ah, yes… summertime! Forget spring, when a young
man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love. Give me
the good old summertime, a time when that old battle-
axe – er… my beloved Wilma – goes West to the Jer-
sey Shore to visit her sister. Summertime, a time when
I am a free man! Everyone say, “Glory hallelujah!”
My beloved Wilma and I were strolling down 6th Av-
enue in the Chelsea Flower District. I, looking for some-
thing slightly erotic for Wilma to bring to her most gra-
cious sister as a gift for taking her off my hands, when
my Wilma stops, eyes bulging over the ideal hostess
gift. “Oh my, Fredo,” she exclaims, as if she’s just spot-
ted Elvis himself, “look how beautiful this plant is!” And
with that, my Wilma runs over to this expensive-look-
ing flora, holds a dainty hand to her throat, and speaks
to the buds as she whispers, “Oh, my pretty one!” With
that, my mind wandered to another time. A time when I
heard a much lovelier lass use the same phrase, mak-
ing me always think of her in that same nomenclature.
The memory came flooding back, making me ache to
see and hear her sweet voice once again.
As soon as we arrived home and my beloved had turned
in for the evening, I turned to my laptop and surfed over
to see if My Pretty One had a show coming up. As luck
would have it, I would have the chance to see – and
most fortunate for me, hear – My Pretty One’s sweet
voice again, without the cumbersome company of my
beloved Wilma. Alas, the show was to be in Brooklyn
of all places, Bushwick to be exact, right near Wilma’s
best pal’s pad. Still, it was a chance I would risk to
hear My Pretty One’s sweet voice. As soon as the five
o’clock bell rang I hopped the subway after work and
made my way eastward to the borough of Brooklyn.
The J train was the nightmare it always is, but the di-
rections were good and it was a short walk to Goodbye
Blue Monday. It’s a rather odd establishment. Half
music venue, half antique shop, half bar with a back-
yard for summer BBQs and music under thecorrugated
tin roof. Wilma would have loved beating me over the
head as I checked out the vintage porno movie posters
that littered the walls. A nice touch, if you ask me.
The place was pretty packed. Why wouldn’t it be? My
Pretty One was going to take the stage and wow the
audience as she always does. So sweet, so coy, win-
some even, but with an underlying current that sets the
room afire the way only Miss Deborah T only can.
Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 10
Fredo Flintstoné
Let me tell you, that little lady belts out a tune like no
one’s business! She comes off as so tiny and timid
behind that big ole guitar of hers, but don’t be fooled!
There’s a force behind her. This is not a woman to be
trifled with. This is a woman who knows exactly what
she wants and how to get it! Ain’t nothing going to stop
her, no way, no how. She commands that stage and
the audience before her. It is such a pleasure to see
her perform… and to see her demurely bat those baby
blues, flashing a coquettish smiles at the crowd.
I wish I had the words to adequately describe her per-
formance, but alas, words fail. Trust me: Deborah T
has to be seen to be appreciated for the artist (and
woman) she is. Now if only I could have gotten my
beloved Wilma to visit her sister for the month of Au-
gust so I could follow My Pretty One on her West Coast
tour. What I wouldn’t have given to be her groupie…
After one of her best performances of what I like to
think of as her best number, “My Pretty One,” I took
myself outside to have a smoke and ponder what I had
just heard and who had sung it to me. Of course, com-
ing down the street fresh from the J train was my
Wilma’s best pal, Betty. I had to concoct some story
as to why I was in Bushwick while my beloved Wilma
was out of town. Thinking fast, I told Betty that since
the wife was out of town, I’d gone out with some of the
boys from the quarry for a beer. They had just headed
off to some other establishment for more beers and I,
silly old coot that I am, was having a final smoke before
hopping the train back home.
Betty bought the bills of goods, but then Lady Luck left
me. Before Betty bid me ‘bye, she stuck her head into
Goodbye Blue Monday, saw my pretty one on the stage
and said to me, “My, oh my. Doesn’t that young girl
look a lot like your Pebbles?” I did a double take and,
sure enough, there was a rather striking resemblance.
How had I never noticed this before?
I had found myself alone on the streets of Brooklyn
without a fantasy to warm these old bones of mine in
the middle of the summer. Very sad for a man of my
advancing years, finding himself a free agent so rarely.
I’d been free enough to fantasize, and now Betty had
burst my Deborah T bubble. My dream of Deborah T
had been shattered. All the way home on the subways
all I could think was, “Where’s Randi Russo when you
need her?”
myspace.com/deboraht
 Dan Asselin
Samajivina Sutta: Living in Tune
by Emily Moment photos by Herb Scher
Dan was already waiting for me on a bench outside Red Bamboo when I finally found my way through the
brownstoned streets of Fort Greene. His skin was so bronze he looked like a glistening little roman – in a dirty
old tee-shirt sun-loved from months spent in a lifeguard chair. We snatched up an outside table for two and had
dinner as the sun went down.
Dan Asselin, a 21 year old self-proclaimed surf-bum Buddhist, with a knack for mighty guitar riffing, has been on
the AntiFolk scene for about a year and a half as a performer and part-time sound man. Last year, after a host of
complications with his education and a newfound home in the local music community, Dan was at a crossroads.
He decided to take a break from the city to spend the summer where he was raised in East Hampton, and figure
out what he wanted to do with his life. Very shortly he will be back for good from the beach, refreshed and ready
to return to the New York City music scene. He is also returning to finish his undergraduate degree in his new
major, Creative Writing… this will be his third and hopefully final attempt.

Dan Asselin: I’ve decided that my number one priority
in life is to graduate college. It’s so crucial right now.
I started out at the University of North Carolina –
Wilmington. It’s a really good school but I just wasn’t
ready to be there.
Emily Moment: For Music?
DA: No. I wanted to be a director. I wanted to make
movies. And I have a feeling that is somehow going to
come back into my life. That was one semester. I had
a really bad bout of depression and I ended up leaving
school and coming home. I was horribly lonely.
EM: So you went back to Long Island.
DA: Yeah just laying low, working in a surf shop. And I
was just home. My friends were at school and my
brother wasn’t home and my sister wasn’t home and
that was when I found the mic on my Mac for
Garageband. And I just locked myself in my room for
weeks recording. That was it for me.
EM: Did that music come out of your depression?
DA: I didn’t really think of it as being causal. But it was
coming from really deep sad places. Good music came
from it, but I don’t want all my music to come from that.
I think that the very best music comes from a place of
strength and joy and positivity. Music needs to enter-
tain them and bring them to a different place. And you
don’t wanna keep bringing them back to the same place.
There are some people who can get away with it just
because they’re so incredibly charming like Fiona Apple.
She’s just shamelessly egocentric and confessional.
EM: She’s one of your biggest influences, right?
DA: She’s my favorite songwriter, yes.
EM: What is it that she does that you would like to do?
DA: There’s this balance in her music. They say in
creative writing you should show someone – not tell
them. She writes about relationships. And the perspec-
tive she writes from... she says, I’m gonna show you
what it felt like, and I’m also gonna tell you what it was
like... and it’s very intimate.
EM: When did you start music lessons?
DA: I took guitar lessons when I was 10 or 12. But I
never really sat down and learned how to read music.
EM: You have a major ear.
DA: That’s why I never had to pursue reading music. I
could always just turn on a song and know how to play
it by listening.
EM: So did you get more out of the work you did on
your own then you did from the lessons?
DA: There are a couple of things like barre chords that
I never would’ve learned if it weren’t for lessons. But
you know mostly kids want to learn Hendrix ego riffs. I
moved away from that early on. The thing I’m doing
now – the sort of Bluegrassy stuff, nobody taught me
how to do that. When I was young I used to sit around
and write these weird guitar parts, technical weird stuff.
I was in the best high school band when I was 15 years
old. We played pretty big shows and we were consid-
ered a special sound. And that’s kind of how I picked
up all that weird technical stuff. Those guys were really
into jazz-fusion. They were like the Dillinger Escape
Plan, which is this weird, heavy metal, fast, clown
murdering music – it’s really awful to listen to.
EM: Clown murdering music?

Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 12

DA: Kind of.
EM: Did you just make that up?
DA: Clown murdering. Like a clown murdering some-
one.
EM: Yeah, but –
DA: I mean that was just always the image I got. Any-
way it’s just a big ego trip: no singing, just screaming.
EM: When did you get your first guitar?
DA: Probably 9. It was this crappy nylon string that
had been strung lefty for me. The guy wanted to have
me playing righty first and I was just miserable.
EM: Have you ever tried again since?
DA: I just can’t do it. I mean, it enables you to have a
little bit more freedom... you know you could show up
at the ‘Hoot without a guitar.
EM: When did you start adding the harmonica?
DA: When I was in one of my early Dylan phases and
I was really into Frank [Hoier] at the time and his mu-
sic was so good –
EM: So you picked it up in the past year.
DA: Oh, I still wouldn’t really say I can play. I’m about
as good on the harmonica as someone who can play
three chords on the guitar. But by this time next year I
will be not one, not two, but three times better on the
harmonica than I am right now.
EM: How were you introduced to the AntiFolk scene?
DA: That was a seriously important night for me. I was
absolutely terrified but at the same time totally com-
mitted to the idea of staying open to it. It was my first DA: Yeah, I was lucky. I was lucky in that way, I was
time (at the Sidewalk Café) and Lach got on stage and lucky I learned the song, I was lucky I stayed, I was
introduced the evening as Cover Night. I went down- lucky that Lach asked me to play another song... I
stairs and I didn't know anyone but I found Brook mean I was in the “one song wonder round.”
[Pridemore] and was like, "Can I learn your song?" The
song was actually really hard - filled with so many words: EM: And so he booked you that night.
"John Darniell." He played it for me in a packed bath- DA: Yeah he did. But the most powerful thing about
room of tons of people playing. It was the most crowded that night is that it just pins you to the ground with your
I've ever seen it. In the downstairs there were so many ego, more so than any other open mic. It’s just you
guitars going at once it was like having a migraine. I and what you think about yourself, and that is such an
got to a certain point where I couldn't take it anymore important thing to have to face as an artist. Lach, well
and I left. I ended up going back and stayed the rest of I’ve never seen anyone so effortlessly kill people’s egos
the night. And I played at about one in the morning but and it’s beautiful. It’s a beautiful thing.
everybody stayed because people wanted to hear this EM: Do you feel that he’s ever done that to you?
random kid play Brook's song.
DA: Oh yeah... he still does it to me. But I love it! He’s
EM: Did you meet anyone that stuck with you that such a cool human being. Because if you’re just react-
night? ing to everyday life the way you react to him, you’re
DA: Well that’s the thing, after I played everyone came simply not going to make the connection with him.
up and introduced themselves to me because I played EM: How would you say the community at the Side-
Brook’s song. walk has changed your music?
EM: You picked a great person to cover. DA: I was writing songs for that audience, for people

Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 13

that were extremely intelligent
and artistically truthful. I wrote
those songs to stick out at a
New York City open mic. EM:
Who has been your greatest
inspiration down there?
DA: Wakey! Wakey! Hands
down, he’s just the smooth-
est motherfucker in the world.
Those are the best songs on
the whole scene, some of the
best songs I’ve ever heard. He
has this extremely defined im-
age but it’s just so casual. He
flirts with a whole room of
people when he gigs. But his
voice? It’s fucking amazing.
Yeah, I want to do exactly
what he does in every way,
shape and form, he is my mu-
sical idol.
EM: More than Fiona?
DA: Yeah, but he’s the super-
star that I know... I know
him. Although Joie Blaney (of Dead Blonde Girlfriend)
was my mentor. He coached me through my first three
or four months as a gigging solo artist, introduced me
to everybody on the scene, and really helped me de-
velop. Whenever I’d come in to the ‘Hoot all depressed
and lurking around he’d know just what to say to cheer
me up. Even if it was just sitting next to me on the
steps and saying nothing. He’s amazing, consistently
a source of faith and inspiration.
EM: Why did you make the choice to spend the sum-
mer in Long Island?
DA: I needed to touch base... and it worked.
EM: With what?
DA: What I want out of life. What my priorities, my
intentions were. I have a ton of different personalities
but they're all coming together now... which is good.
EM: So have you been writing a lot this summer?
DA: No. But I have been playing a lot. And what I have
written has been what I consider my best work ever.
But I always consider whatever I’m working on to be
my best stuff ever.
EM: Do you have a writing process?
DA: The best stuff comes words first. There's a million
ways to put words over a melody, but if you have a
melody and you're trying to find words to fit it... how are
you ever going to be true to how you actually felt? So I
write first at least 2 verses.
Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 14
EM: Do you make projects for
yourself? Layering your music by
choosing to add certain tech-
niques?
DA: The little coloring every-
where... the little licks? That’s just
candy to keep it interesting. Be-
cause I get bored watching most
singer/songwriters do their thing.
EM: What do you consider to be
your largest weakness?
DA: Song structure. Avoiding for-
mula. That’s why it takes me so
long to write a song.
EM: What’s your strength?
DA: I write good guitar parts... in-
teresting guitar parts. But I con-
sider it an off-handed insult when
someone says I’m a really good
guitar player.
EM: You’re going to be getting
that the rest of your life.
DA: I know. A compliment to me
is, “that was a great song,” but when someone says
“you’re a great guitar player,” I’m like, “Fuck!”
EM: But you set out to incorporate guitar parts... the
candy? I mean you do want people to notice.
DA: Yeah.
EM: But you don’t want to be called out for it?
DA: Yeah, I know...
EM: Are you concerned with your image?
DA: Lack of image. I think it is important as an artist
today to have a defined image. I think it’ll happen just
by being comfortable. The older I get, the more true I
am to my intuition. Picking out the clothes I want to
wear is getting easier. I’m not worried about “could I get
away with that?”
EM: Are you interested in having a band?
DA: I am going to play alone until I feel overwhelmingly
like a band is coming together. It would be more of a
hindrance than anything right now. So much is just
changing so quickly I don’t even want to record right
now. I’d also like a following. It’s a long way off. Years.
EM: If you had to market yourself, what would your
demographic following be?
DA: As embarrassing as this is... junior and senior high
school girls... oh and songwriters and guitarists. Like I
said, all of the songs I wrote, I wrote for songwriters.
Which is cut-throat... it’s like survival songwriting.
EM: If you couldn’t do music?
DA: Buddhist Monk.
EM: No, what would you really be doing.
DA: Buddhist Monk.
EM: You would be a Buddhist Monk
DA: I would live in a Monastery.
EM: What was your religion growing up?
DA: Catholic and Jewish.
EM: When did you discover Buddhism?
DA: Last year. I decided what perception I had about
God in my head was causing a lot of strife and turmoil.
My friend’s mom was a Buddhist Monk and she’d been
encouraging me to try it and go to the Zendo. Ever
since I’ve been home I’ve been reading a lot of Bud-
dhist text and meditating.
EM: And you would devote your life to that?
DA: Definitely... I still might.
Well, Buddhism says that “the greatest magic is trans-
muting the passions” (or, Atisha does). That is as good
a reason as any to pursue music and Dan’s passion
certainly runs deep. His performances are intensely
rooted in the pit of his gut. You can feel him feel his
music. It jerks and folds his small frame over his beau-
Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 15
tiful brown guitar as he squeezes his eyes shut and
bellows. On stage, his conversation is often nervous
and peripatetic. In person, he can be very guarded,
though friendly. Like a well-oiled mechanical switch,
he censors his thoughts which often move faster than
he can articulate. There is so much passing through
his mind at once that though genuine, his attention is
fleeting; but he is bright and beaming with healthy youth-
ful energy.
Dan referred to himself as very insecure when he was
younger and while that is still how he comes across he
is certainly aware of his talent. He is also aware of his
own contradictions. Much to his credit, Dan is becom-
ing far more than just a great guitarist. The night of the
interview, I was able to go upstairs into the cozy perfor-
mance cove of Red Bamboo to watch Dan play. Luck-
ily, a mutual friend (rather illegally) recorded one of his
new songs and sent it to me and I haven’t been able to
stop listening. I would like to put his mind to rest and
let him know that the first thing I thought when he fin-
ished playing it was not “he’s a great guitarist” but “that
was a great song!” I look forward to seeing what this
approaching year brings for Dan, and be it enlighten-
ment or perhaps just a load of free-write essays, one
thing’s for certain: we are in store for some sweet candy.
myspace.com/danasselin
 Share and Scher alike...
by Brian Speaker photos by Herb Scher
Sidewalk Bar. I’m in the red lit front window sippin’ on a Stella and Herb Scher starts off the interview by running
to the bathroom. He's probably pretty excited that his photo show has been met with such positive response.
Herb first got his hands on a sweet Motorola 35mm when he was 13. He picked it up like an instrument and soon
began his love affair with taking pictures. Practice, snap, practice… he honed his skills through college and grad
school. Herb is a pretty smart guy to coincide his first-ever photography exhibit with the opening of the Summer
AntiFolk Festival at the Sidewalk Café. What better way to celebrate than with the images and characters
associated with such an event? The thought and preparation it must have taken to put together such a collection
gives one pause. But according to Herb it all came about by chance.

Brian Speaker: What was the inspiration for this group-
ing of photographs?
Herb Scher: As I thought about getting seriously back
into photography, I knew that one of the things I wanted
to concentrate on was portraits. Walking around New
York I’m always wondering what’s going on in the
thoughts of the people I see. I’m not sure if photogra-
phy can really reveal what’s on people’s minds, but I
hope the pictures can say something about the indi-
viduals and about people in general. I approached Jon
Berger – who was editing Urban Folk with Dave Cuomo
at the time – and started shooting for them gradually.
Urban Folk gave me a good reason to ask people to
pose for photographs and a place to have the work pub-
lished.
Over time I’ve been able to learn a lot through the pro-
cess of shooting many different performers for the maga-
zine. It’s also nice to be able to document the Side-
walk community and to have a chance to get to know
better a wide range of people from the scene. I’m sort
of amazed that Urban Folk is even published – that a
scene like this can support its own zine – and I’m re-
ally glad that Jon is able to keep it going.
BS: You really brought out the character of the per-
formers. What relationship do you have with the artists
in the pictures?
HS: One very nice benefit of taking these pictures is
getting to know the people I photograph. When I look
at the photographs that are on display I remember all
the little things that happened on the day we took the
pictures. One of the things I’ve learned during the course
of all this is that the best photos come from a collabo-
ration between me and the person I’m shooting. For
example, in the photo of Vin throwing a kiss,I generally
suggested that he try some different expressions, but
he came up with a whole bunch of ideas including the
thrown kiss. He’s reminded me that I asked him to
repeat it after he did it once quickly before I was ready
to snap the pose.
When Ben Godwin and I got together, we decided to go
to the Museum of Natural History because his songs
have references to dinosaurs and “Skin and Bones.”
We were worried though that once they saw us shoot-
ing they might kick us out. We started photographing
away in the lobby where they have a few large dinosaur
skeletons. Eventually a guard did come over to us and
we were all prepared with our excuses when she said
“you know, you might want to think about shooting him
from below looking up. I’ve seen a lot of people do that
and it’s very effective.”
BS: What feedback have you had personally?
HS: The feedback has been great. I’ve had a wide
range of nice comments. It is very rewarding in cases
where the work seems to have some particular reso-
nance to someone.
BS: When and what got you started in photography?
HS: I started taking pictures when I was fairly young.
Maybe around 10 or 11. I took a few photography
classes and learned how to process film and make
black and white prints. My brother and I had a dark-
room at home for a little while. I also took a photo class
while in graduate school from a guy named Tom Roma,
and I’m still absorbing things I learned from him. How-
ever, after losing two good cameras – one in college
and one when I first moved to New York – I decided to
wait to buy another one until I felt I was responsible
enough not to lose it. That took about 20 years. About
18 months ago I finally bought a good digital camera
that I have managed not to lose so far.

Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 16

BS: Art and music are a common bond among the
performers at the Sidewalk. It must feel good to get to
share another side of yourself with your peers.
HS: Yes. The exhibition has helped me more comfort-
ably identify myself as a photographer. Although my
parents exposed me to the arts broadly, there wasn’t
anyone in my family who really was an artist. It’s taken
me a while to accept that definition of myself.
And there you have it. A peek inside the lens of Herb
Scher’s eyes. I think Herb has achieved a magnificent
representation of the artists he’s captured on film. In
Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 17
each picture, the style, tonality, background and light-
ing lends itself to each artist being portrayed. From the
“Teen Beat” appeal of Soft Black (Vin) blowing kisses,
to the to the dark, upfront melancholy of Daniel
Bernstein’s stare. From the throwback, folkster image
of Frank Hoier, to the yin and yang layout of the loung-
ing Fools. I would say it’s a success and so would
many others. In fact, while interviewing Herb, several
admirers stop by to give him compliments. The reserved
Herb takes it in with a thank you and a smile before
geting back to the business at hand.
home.earthlink.net/~madeinmiami
 Huggabroomstock
By Phoebe Kreutz
For those of you who live under a rock,
Huggabroomstock is the brand-new and hopefully-an-
nual music festival that was held at Maria Hernandez
Park in Bushwick on August 11th. Organized by Toby
Goodshank, Peter Dizozza and some other likely lads,
the ‘stock boasted a full roster of some of AntiFolk’s
most beloved acts. I was smart enough to get the day
off from work so that I didn’t miss a goddamn thing.
Like all good endeavors, my day at Huggabroomstock
began with a hearty home-cooked meal of scrambled
eggs and champagne. So I was already a little buzzed
and mildly hung-over by the time I headed off to the
park with my breakfast buddies. On the way over I spot-
ted that dude from TV on the Radio coming out of a
bodega wearing a very natty suit. I waved at him and he
waved back. I took it as a good sign.
The Huggabroomstik boys were busily setting up the
stage. There was some concern about the best way to
hang up the beautiful banner that Neil Kelly’s mom had
quilted for the occasion. Luckily, Nan Turner had some
extra Schwervon pins that served quite MacGyver-ly.
It was a hot day, and the performance space afforded
no shade. Maybe our baking brains made the show
better. But must the show go on? Yes. It must.
First on the bill was the new band Kung Fu Crime Wave.
Fronted by Luke Kelly, the band features Deenah Moffie,
Joanna Kelly and some dude in goggles that Angela
Carlucci and I found to be particularly entrancing. There
was a lot to like about this band. Really catchy. Mostly,
I was just grateful that someone finally had the cour-
age to speak out about David Blaine.
Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 18
photos by Hugh F. Kelly
Daniel Bernstein (as we are calling him at the moment)
was next and was awesome as usual. That guy is just
really good at writing songs. And his jock drummer
makes some of the best drumming faces around. In
one of the most action packed sequences of the day,
the bass drum started moving across the stage. Then
the drum’s owner, Mr. Johnny Dydo, leapt up and tried
it secure it mid-song. The drummer either didn’t notice
that Johnny’s head was under the ride cymbal or he
just couldn’t stop the rock. Either way, he just kept on
banging it. We were all a little concerned that Johnny
would come out in some kind of Looney-Tune-style daze
but he was unscathed. (His scathing came later when
that very same drum kit attacked him and cut his hand
open during the Huggabroomstik set).
I suspected that Schwervon! was going to kick ass,
and kick ass they did. That’s what they do. And, like
all good celebrity couples, they've adopted a third-world
son in the form of Preston Spurlock (if you count Florida
as third-world). I was concerned that he would get hurt
in the crossfire once Matt and Nan started their tradi-
tional sparring. But it never happened. Maybe having a
child DOES make everything better. The sun seemed
to be at its peak during the Schwervon set so there
wasn’t quite as much thrash dancing as one usually
sees, but I know that I was dancing in my brain.
There was a lot of talk all day about what the
local Bushwickers were going to make of The
Purple Organ. The guy cuts an imposing fig-
ure even before he plugs in his magical
guitar. And then you can usually count
of him to sing some material that
makes even a worldly gal like me
blush (I refer you to the poochie-
pussy number). Was this fam-
)
ily-style park ready for the
ed
e!
Organ? Fuck yeah.
iss
No one seemed to bat
Liv
um
an eye. I guess
yo
Bushwick is just a
ws
little more so-
phisticated
ho
than other
es
parts of
(th
the world. Or maybe there’s just
something about hearing “I shit
my pants in the garden of the
Luxembourg” outside. You just
feel like you’re there. And you
feel just like a tiny bird.
You know who likes The
Babyskins? Cops. The minute
those girls got on stage that
cruiser showed up to check out
the scene. Coincidence?
Hardly. We imagined the fuzz
issuing tickets for stealing
hearts. I know I would have done the same, were it in
my jurisdiction. This was about the time the sun started
to relent a bit. The dulcet tones of Crystal and Angela
wafted over on a soothing breeze and I started to fade
into a contented little bundle of peace. It was so tran-
quil, so lovely, so gentle. It was time for Huggabroomstik
to ruin it all.
But who can complain about a loss of tranquility when
this seemed to be the moment for which
Huggabroomstik was created? The band has gone
through so many phases and and members that some
may have wondered where they were headed. Appar-
ently, they were headed here: fulfilling their destiny as
an eleven-piece mob in matching red-and-yellow bas-
I Survived the LC Fest
written by Jessi Robertson
This year I helped organize the 1st Annual LC Music
Fest… and lived to tell the tale. Local Correspondents
(or the LC) is a showcase series, a community of inde-
pendent musicians, and a sprawling urban family for
the struggling artists who’ve sought refuge here in New
York. Larry Hyland, Tanya Buziak, Greg Tuohey and I
make up the LC Team.
Bar4 was recently renovated. It’s now one of the few
venues in Brooklyn with a piano, and the sound is sim-
ply incredible. To celebrate, we decided to have a party
at the end of June. Under the influence of the Team’s
enthusiasm, the party grew into the massive event that
became the 1st Annual LC Music Festival.
Four nights of music. 53 acts. I still have flashbacks…
Night One: I loved every minute of the first night, self-
ishly. Some of the highlights included Michael Wagner,
a fresh arrival from New Orleans rocking the ukulele;
Merrady spinning out sultry melodies accompanied by
Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 19
ketball jerseys play-
ing in the bright Au-
gust sunshine. They
looked like the love
children of the Mor-
mon Tabernacle Choir
and one of those War-
riors gangs. And they
sounded like a broken
time-machine, shifting
between tight, dance-
able pop and drug-in-
duced Nordic battle
hymns.
Bringing up the rear on this run-away party train was
the ever-delightful Peter Dizozza. Now, Peter was sup-
posed to be the penultimate act of the afternoon. How-
ever, the guy didn’t show up until Huggabroomstik was
almost over due to either A) traffic or B) his own naked
desire to go last (depending on who you talk to). It’s a
shame, really, because I think after the titular band of
the day finished, everyone had a feeling of completion
and a hunger for tacos. But Peter’s songs are always
fun to hear and he’s so different from the rest of the
acts. It actually ended up being a nice way to come
down from the day.
So were the tacos. Whew. Those were good, man.
photos by Emily Rawlings
local Renaissance man, Gene Back, on violin; Tanya
Buziak singing lush harmonies with Well-Enough Folk
Band; Tarrah Reynolds making everyone dance; and
Rob from No Lindsay breaking out multiple keyboards
and various machines to create an electronic master-
piece. Oh yeah, my band Asher, are you drawing pretty
things? played a set too.
Night Two: Surprisingly, Thursday was probably the
craziest night of all. But then again, it’s not that sur-
prising that things get rowdy when you put every mem-
ber of Lowry up on the stage. It was a tight fit (Casey
and Shawn actually had to stand facing each other),
but it sounded amazing. Here Lies Pa shook up the
early part of the evening with unrestrained vocal out-
pourings from lead singer Paul Basile. Takenobu fea-
tured brilliant cellist Nick Ogawa, who took home first
place in this year’s Jezebel Singer/Songwriter Contest.
I expected a lot from Kevin Johnston, and his band
Adios Esposito… but one thing I didn’t anticipate was

the brass instruments. The room got so packed I could
barely move; nobody minded. In the spirit of commu-
nity, there were many collaborations, including Tanya
Buziak singing on a David Shane Smith song, Matt
Cranstoun playing the drums for Tanya, and Greg
Tuohey on guitar with Ivan Sandomire. We were also
joined by AntiFolk favorites Debe Dalton and Frank Hoier.
Night Three: Peter Inc started it off. I could only envy
his skill as he wove through complex rhythms on the
guitar. After that I was expecting Sami Akbari to sing
sweetly, then stick it to the audience in between songs;
she did not disappoint. I often wrack my brains for plans
to secretly commandeer Joe Wilson’s national fan base.
Since I can’t, I sat back and enjoyed his set of master-
fully crafted songs. Sean Han of Blip Blip Bleep gave a
rare solo performance. His not-so-hidden talent: whis-
tling. The Reverend John DeLore and FRIENDS brought
new meaning to “No Depression,” and I was thrilled to
hear Kara Suzanne join them. We even heard a little
blue-eyed soul that evening from Matt Cranstoun. Little
may be the wrong word, actually, because Matt has an
incredibly strong voice. Later in the evening, Bell came
out to serenade us with her lovely songs, despite mov-
ing earlier that day. One of the things that really made
me proud was how attentive and considerate all the
performers were. Everyone represented the true spirit
Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 20
of community, and it was a joy to be a part of it.
Night Four: After three nights of non-stop spectacular
music, I was in a state of near euphoria on Saturday.
Bryan Dunn had me falling off my chair with his ridicu-
lously good cover of Prince’s “Kiss,” only to be followed
by the energetic, infectious music of Andy Mac. Then
there was a beautiful moment when the entire bar sang
“Roll Your Windows Down” with Casey Shea and Jeff
Jacobson. I couldn’t calm down after Jeff played
“Castles” until Wakey! Wakey!’s whisper, “cuz we
fucked it all up” sent a gleeful tingle down my spine.
Matt Singer had the entire room breathless with a mix
of shock and hysterical laughter when he sang about
dating an American Idol contestant. Matt was followed
by The Picture, a band that figures prominently on my
Top 25 iPod playlist. Sometimes it makes me feel a
little giddy, just to think I know them, but I sang along
at the top of my lungs anyway. Paula Valstein released
one blissful, seductive note and the entire bar fell in
love with her. I am always amazed at the way she can
travel from a breathy flutter to a throaty wail so natu-
rally. But I’m equally enthralled by Tom Hayes’ achingly
tender lyrics and fluid vocals.
So I survived the LC Fest. It wouldn’t have been pos-
sible without the tireless work of Larry, Ted, and Peter,
who co-own Bar4 and came out every night to lend a
hand; Tanya Buziak who introduced me to so many of
the performers at her open mic nights; Niko Kaporos,
the sound engineer who seemed to be everywhere at
once and made us all sound beautiful; and Greg Tuohey,
who I think holds the record for playing with the most
acts. For four days I was in the company of some of
my favorite people and treated to the best local mu-
sic. My only regret was that it seemed to end far
too soon. It’s a little hard to recover from, but
I’m already looking forward to next year.
localcorrespondents.com
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iss
Liv
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 Get in the Minivan
You’ve got to Know When to Fold ‘Em.
Brook Pridemore
If there is one constant to out-of-town shows, it’s that
there are a multitude of things that can go wrong. Any
number of catastrophes can sour a gig and send even
die-hard supporters running for the wings. You could
get too drunk before the show, break three strings and
have to finish the set with half a guitar. A surly bar-goer
could whip a half-finished bottle of beer toward the stage
and clip you between the eyes. Or, you could be run-
ning on fumes to make an important gig, and your van
could throw a piston and catch fire, leaving you stranded
and friendless in a wide open space like, say, central
Nebraska.
All of these catastrophes, while usually horrifying in
the moment, can be turned around and into positive
experiences with time and tenacity. When MY van threw
a piston in central Nebraska, for example, we ended
up meeting some of the coolest and most supportive
kids we know, and now Kearney, NE is one of our favor-
ite places to stop on tour.
Sometimes, though, the cards lie entirely differently,
and you’ve wasted your time and effort in getting to a
lame gig. This is what happened to Guitar Bomb and
me this past April.
We had been trying to procure an engagement at The
Book & Beat Company, this cool bookstore/record
shop/performance space in Oklahoma City. Our friend
Shiloh Brown, the proprietor of the Book & Beat, is a
big, good-natured guy who had always taken care of
us in the past, even if no one showed up to the shows.
However, bad news hit us this time when Shiloh told
Mike that he couldn’t have shows for a while, as he
was moving his store to a smaller space (while he didn’t
come right out and say business had been bad, this is
what we figured). He pointed us in the direction of a bar
in Tahlequah, a super-small mountain town in the beau-
tiful eastern part of the Oklahoma.
Riding east, we were filled with more than our share of
trepidation: this was serious hill country, way off the
beaten path of seemingly every touring acts – ever.
Driving through Muskogee, I wished I knew the
words to that Merle Haggard song,
and plenty of State-sponsored road
signs declared Muskogee to be the
hometown of American Idol winner
Carrie Underwood. We then drove
Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 22
photo by Lauren Terilli
through Tahlequah proper and down a desolated road
about ten miles outside of town, until we came to our
destination.
Roxie’s Roost is one of those huge, old farmhouse-
style buildings that, while completely non-existent in
crowded-ass New York, seem to be the norm in the
former teeming metropoli of the old mining country.
While there were only two cars parked outside when
we pulled up, we didn’t fret. It was early, after all, and
maybe bars start late in Tahlequah. A sign on the door
promised Open Mic Wednesdays (exciting, as this was
a Wednesday night), beer specials (exciting, because
we were broke) and The Best BBQ in Eastern Okla-
homa (exciting, because we were hungry).
Well, at least they had free beer.
Upon introduction to the proprietor/bartender, he told
us he’d canceled the open mic. His logic was that there
was an out-of-town band coming to play a show, and
they (we) probably didn’t want to be bothered with ama-
teurish open mic performers (they and all the friends
they bring to the venue). Mike asked to see a menu,
and our man said they hadn’t had food for several years.
They had lost their liquor license, briefly gone out of
business, and only recently reopened with no kitchen.
Our man dragged over his styrofoam container of take
out, and offered some of his dinner as consolation. Dan
and I took off in the van to find veggie food, and ended
up semi-empty handed: in the hills of a vastly carnivo-
rous Southern State, beans and cheese are the clos-
est you get to vegetables.
Roxie’s Roost was only slightly less desolate when we
returned. Mike was sitting at a table, half-heartedly
engaged in conversation with an older, toothy gentle-
man who kept insisting on buying Mike (and later me)
more of the Pig’s Eye beers we were getting for free. I
had thought this guy was Mike’s cousin or uncle (Mike
has family all over the country, who randomly show up
at gigs in strange places), but no one seemed to know
him, and he got increasingly friendlier
and more wasted as the night wore on.
He made fun of me for drinking Pig’s
Eye (a sort of PBR of the South), when
he had offered to buy me whatever I
wanted to drink. He kept flashing this
big wad of money in my face, and I
kind of got the feeling that he was trying to find a way
to put a move on me. I spent most of Mike’s set ignor-
ing this guy, and by the time Mike was done, I’d man-
aged to lose the guy’s attention and find a new spot at
the bar.
While I was playing, two other locals showed up, a big
guy and a little guy. Dan procured us a place to stay.
Their house seemed like a nice alternative to the other
guy’s house, which had also been offered. Mike ditched
the creepy guy, who eventually passed out sitting up.
In the end, we played to four people including the owner,
who begrudgingly gave us forty bucks and more free
beer. One guy was interested in a non-musical way,
and the other two guys, Kevin and Bubba (Bubba being
the little guy), were actually really cool and gave us a
nice and friendly place to stay. We did bong rips and
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Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 23
laughed our asses off at the fact that the big health
scare in the country at the moment was spinach and
scallions, two of the best things for you. They explained
the difference between rednecks and hillbillies.
And also, Kevin and Bubba suggested we should never
come back to Tahlequah. It wasn’t our place. No of-
fense, the guys said. It’s just that we were rock guys in
the hills, and we were never going to find an audience
among the town’s relatively closed-minded country
music fans. They said it’s like trying to play acoustic
guitar at a hardcore show - something I do all the time.
So it was a bust. We went out of our way and didn’t
make any new fans. We got paid but nobody gave a
fuck. There were laughs, and plenty of them, but like I
said before, this was a night where the cards were com-
pletely out of our favor, and we didn’t even walk away
with a crazy story about it. Meh.
Every Thing Goes Book Cafe Open Mic
Last Saturday of every month take a free ferry
ride to Staten Island and discover great used
books and records, organic and fair-trade coffee,
yummy teas and snacks, quiet backyard garden.
www.etgstores.com/bookcafe
Creek & the Cave - every Tuesday 7:30
Paul Alexander’s storied LIC open mic - and then
some. myspace.com/youropenmic
 OMFUG
(Other Metaphysics for Uplifting Gourmandizers)
Let me just say, in case any students of philosophy or
evolutionary biology happen to read this, that I think
Darwinism is a species of formalism, laboring under a
hidden essentialism without which, by the way it, would
just be a branch of chemistry or physics.
But enough about me, we’re here to talk about the
Scene, about Music.
We will start with Weird Al Yankovic, and via the critics
of Dylan imitators, lay bare the unknown and uncon-
scious assumptions so blithely accepted in casual
conversation and musical criticism, thereby implicat-
ing ourselves in the maintenance of violent power struc-
tures. That sounds simple enough.
As any dilettante fraud will tell you, especially one pur-
porting to be a critic, musical or otherwise, the thing
most to be feared is the uncovering of your ignorance.
You know, the slip at the academic cocktail party which
reveals that you never finished Ulysses (OK, never got
past the first two pages).
Now C.S. Lewis, in a wonderful little book entitled An
Experiment in Criticism, tried to set forth an objective
standard for determining whether a work constituted
“literature.” His tentative conclusion was that if there
was at least one person who read and re-read the par-
ticular work, i.e. went back to
the writing more than once,
then that piece could not be
considered beyond the pale
of “literature.” It could not be
dismissed summarily as “bad
reading,” pulp, or whatever.
One response to Lewis’s ex-
periment was to suppose a
single person indeed loved a
particular book or story, and
returned to it repeatedly, yet
that story was a poor imita-
tion, an utterly derivative
knock-off, of some other writer
who by other standards was
much better. Doesn’t that
show that we cannot rely on
the power of a particular piece
to determine whether it is
Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 24
by J.J. Hayes
good reading? Aren’t other factors at play in determin-
ing whether a work deserved the appellation “literature?”
The other day I came across the new Weird Al Yankovic
video “Trapped in a Drive-Thru.” It is a parody of R. Kelly’s
“Trapped in a Closet.” It is eleven minutes long. And it
is one of the most brutally depressing takes on Ameri-
can life I have ever seen. It left me with a feeling of
emptiness and meaninglessness I hadn’t known since
listening to Lou Reed’s Berlin. Adam Green’s Gem-
stones got me close to that space where we’re all a
swirl of matter dropping meaningless red bricks from
between our legs, just as we in turn were dropped
bloody red from another concoction of water and car-
bon, but Weird Al sent me right over the edge. This
video made want to cry. It gave me nausea with a capi-
tal S-A-R-T-R-E.
As a good denizen of MySpace, I immediately bulletined
my friends about the find. The Subject line read: More
Depressing than Lou Reed’s Berlin? You be the judge…
My text read: “I liked R. Kelly’s attempt, but I must say
that Weird Al has just ripped modern life to shreds with
this one. Someone find me a razorblade.”
That’s when the fear set in. The fear that I was in the
position of C.S. Lewis’ single reader, a not very literate
person who was in love with a book that any reason-
ably well-read person would iden-
tify as a hack rip-off.
What if the more well-read and
wiser folk on my friends list saw
the video, and knew that some-
one else had done a similar film
or video, and had done it better?
Would they shake their heads
and say: “Oh, this video is so de-
rivative, how could J.J. even think
it was so stunning? Why, [name
filmmaker] did this years ago. It’s
a rip-off!” This, of course, leads
us to Bob Dylan.
Here’s a knock against various
artists I’ve been hearing for de-
cades: “a Dylan rip-off,” “just try-
ing to sound like Dylan,” “a
wannabe Dylan.” This can be a
statement of fact, but it is often, if not most
times, meant as a criticism.
Let us deconstruct this criticism. In doing
so we hope to identify, if not solve, all the
problems of the world.
The first thing we notice is that such a criti-
cism is at heart not a musical judgment, it
is really a moral judgment. It rests upon a
basis of a particular moral standard: “Thou
shalt be original.” It is certainly a factual
assertion that someone sounds like another
artist, either in lyrical approach, melodic
structure or favored chord changes. Those
are facts. But the notion that this therefore
makes the artist a bad artist and the artist’s
art bad art, this is the application of a par-
ticular standard to that artist’s work.
Now that standard, be it phrased objectively
(“it’s unoriginal, there’s nothing new here, an artist
should explore new territory”) or subjectively (“why would
I want to listen to this when I can stay home and play
the real Dylan on vinyl, tape, CD, or iPod; why would I
want to spend money on this when I can hear the real
deal?”), is itself a fact. It is also a fact that we as listen-
ers apply these standards.
This is where I feel the need to deconstruct. For the
standard of originality, of not ripping off an established
musician’s style, of being less talented, of being a
wannabe, would not be possible if not for recorded music.
It would not be communicable to any but a few aficio-
nados of a given genre if that recorded music was not
distributed on a large, shall I say industrial scale. Imag-
ine there were no recorded music. A singer songwriter
shows up at a local gathering place on the Isle of the
Manhattoes, and someone says, “Oh that one is just
ripping off a guy who used to play here 40 years ago.”
Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 25
What would that mean to a listener who
wasn’t there 40 years ago? It would
mean the speaker was just some old
person bragging about the good old
days. The only useful information be-
ing communicated is that someone is
saying there was someone better. It’s
possible that if the speaker were re-
spected and believable it would create
a mysterious aura around the long gone
singer. Sort of like old-timers saying
Walter Johnson pitched even faster
than any pitcher living before we could
measure the speed of a fastball. True?
Possibly. Verifiable? Most likely not.
But thus are legends born.
Which is only to say that the criticism
that someone sounds like Dylan (or
R.E.M. or Tori Amos or whoever) cannot be a valid ob-
jective criticism of the music as such unless one ac-
cepts that the recording industry, aided and abetted by
mass media, as it has existed in the last hundred years
is the way things should be.
Ezra Pound said, “Make it new,” referring to poetry within
a context very similar to what happened to recorded
music over the last century. Within the oral tradition
that preceded written and then published poetry, this
notion of originality was meaningless – the poetry you
heard was good or bad on its own terms without refer-
ence to its originality per se – it is only because of the
mass distribution of the written word, and the centraliz-
ing effect of the academic “canon” and decisions made
in publishing houses that a certain boredom attended
the reading of poetry. Once you have in your hand the
cream of the crop, the poets who did what they did to
the utter maximum with astounding effect, why on earth
would you want to read someone who didn’t do it as
well? Of course, we want something new. and our own acceptance of a particular worldview, which
But my boredom and access to the greats (Blake, is dependent on a particular economic and political
Homer, Ginsberg, Dylan, etc.) and my desire for some- framework.
thing new, in a totally different style, something strange, On the other hand, were we to take away all of that – if
is a reflection of my psychology and my access (often we were to imagine that there were no recordings, no
a product of my economic standing) within a certain books, no radios etc. and we got down to the music
technological, commercial and sociological milieu. and poetry itself and our only way of hearing it was live
Once I see that my psychological attitudes are at play, performance then what we are looking for and receiving
and I look at them closely (you can do this on your must be something else – more akin to the beauty or
own, no need for therapy), it becomes clear that the ugliness, or wildness or peace or violence of nature.
technological, commercial and sociological milieu have Stuff that can never be repeated and yet which speaks
had more of an effect on my psyche than my psyche to us, gives us something… whatever. The real human
does on the milieu. core of music must have been available before all the
particular systems of recording and mass distribution,
But I do not like this state of affairs, because it as- and to say that music must stand or fall on its relation
sumes that my life as a human being is dependent on to those particular systems is to call ourselves drones
my not being bored and therefore demanding some- with no free will who must accept and participate in the
thing new, while simultaneously and paradoxically say- nihilism that others have created.
ing that really worthwhile stuff was done once and for
all by certain artists, whose copyrights, masters, etc. You Inhuman Monsters.
are conveniently held by corporations who control the Next issue: Robert Johnson, the Tip Jar and the Hid-
access to the good stuff, or by whom my previously den Workings of the Universe.
purchased copies thereof are ready-made for my
access. But that means that what is necessary
for my soul is dependent on my economic abil-
ity. But that can’t be true since that just puts
me right in the heart of a capitalist worldview
which is at its base is utterly nihilistic.
I have no objection to listening and reading the
greats. I’m just saying that in some sense they
are gravy. They are gifts, which we should be
grateful for, but we cannot raise luxury to neces-
sity (he writes after a day of cursing his inability
to write because he lacks a decent word pro-
cessor). Now music and poetry and storytelling
are probably very necessary to us as human
beings. We need bread and roses after all.
One of the reasons the greats remain greats,
and we have personal libraries and CD and record
collections is that in returning to the greats we
often find something new. They have great depth
and unexplored mysteries. In essence they have
what people claim for scripture (Why we don’t
view them with the same skepticism that we view
actual scripture is an interesting question). But
there is another reason to return to the greats –
because they are enjoyable even if we don’t find
anything new in them. It is in fact possible for
something to be good, to be beautiful, to be en-
joyable, to be worthy of gazing upon or listening
to without offering anything new.
So newness as a necessary criterion for judg-
ing anything says more about our own selves

Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 26

 Costello’s Web
I haven’t listened to much music lately, so here’s a short list of things I’ve been really into, aside from moving
apartments, working as a temp too much, and not listening to enough music.
Frank Hoier - “Lovers and Dollars”
I know plenty of compliments have been lofted upon
Frank Hoier, and that all having been said, still, what a
great and classic singer/songwriter! The traditional
structure of this song doesn’t keep it from cooking.
He’s soil but soft to start, really screams his angry
second verse, and brings us back to earth on the third.
And something that has been said in dim corners
as if a serious secret, “Ya know, Frankie’s a
really good slide guitar player”, ought to be
said a bit louder. He’s currently my
favorite insipiration
regarding traditional
styles still being com-
pletely relevant.
myspace.com/frankhoier
The Lisps - “Pepper Spray”
Cesar Alvarez’s production is old
school and tech savvy all at once.
Hand claps, Nord-style synths,
and those messy pseudo-Santana
riffs make this song a complete,
hands-up winner. Cesar recently
recorded a version of “Brooklyn”
for Creaky Boards. I couldn’t be-
lieve the sonic warmth of it. Or the clarinet
playing and the swoopy girl vocals, which I al-
ways heard in my head, but thought only ex-
isted there. I was wrong.
myspace.com/thelisps
EL-P
This white-rapper-from-Brooklyn likes that white-rapper-
from-Brooklyn. He sounds like Beck except it feels third-
generation derivative instead of Beck’s second-genera-
tion derivative. That being said, Trent Reznor is on a
couple of his songs and they are seriously good.
myspace.com/elproducto
Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 27
Dan Costello
Blue Hippopotamus - “Child”
Caitlin Jaene plays upright bass and sings wistful lyr-
ics with a solid jazz inflection. Rob D. sets a precise
and easy groove on drums. These guys played Vinstock,
a bill put together by a certain Soft Black songwriter at
Clash Bar in Clifton, NJ. They played a really long set
and it was good the whole time. And it was just bass
and drums. The recording of “Child” has a really nice
violin solo. And the second chorus uses synth orches-
tra to uplifting effect. Put it on your Sunday
playlist. Six songs for free at:
caitlinjaene.com/music.html
o’death - “only daughter”
So they’re very Appala-
chian, and at times not a
little Neil Young. But they’re
not sleepy; they’re peppy. And
then, you’re marching to battle.
And then, after the battle’s won or lost
(usually lost), there’s a dance in the
barn, anyway. And a drunk walk home.
myspace.com/odeath
The New York Howl - “Signal to Noise”
Go trip out on the video on YouTube. It’s two minutes,
twenty four seconds of flashing images, the most ran-
dom flipping constantly. Search it out.
youtube.com/watch?v=gN8Zss5rw0I
Drink Up Buttercup - “Mr. Pie Eyes”
These guys had Creaky Boards in for a show at Mo
Pitkins, and I think we’re playing together on our Philly
tourdate. Listening to their recordings, we thought they
sounded good. What’s funny is, the live show totally
resembles what you imagine from the recordings: Fun
music made with reckless abandon. These guys are
great to watch making noisy music.
myspace.com/drinkupbuttercupband
 Record Reviews
Want to have your record reviewed? Mail to J. Berger
1119 Longwood Avenue, Bronx, NY 10474
Charles Latham ~ Beltline
When I saw Charles Latham perform recently at the
New York AntiFolk Fest, his unique lyrical perspective
as well as his ability to wail some pretty high notes
captivated me immediately. If the recording of Beltline
is a bit muffled at parts due to its lo-fi aesthetic, Latham
more than compensates for this with his acerbic wit
and gifted songwriting ability. In fact, I would argue that
the unpolished recording suits Latham perfectly: it helps
communicate the vulnerability, unpretentiousness, and
immediacy of his songs. Latham’s thoughts are so re-
freshingly insightful and funny, in particular the song
“Drown in the Tears of Your 20s” comes to mind. The
song illustrates the progression of a bitter 20-year-old
into a 30-year-old eating ribs with a bib, to a nostalgic
40-year-old balding and getting fatter, finally becoming
a know-it-all 50-year-old with children who hate him.
Though this song, like many of the others on the CD
has a slightly depressing cynical tone (in the sense
that truth can
be hard to
swallow), lis-
teners who
harbor their
own cynical
views of soci-
ety will prob-
ably end up
finding Latham’s observations hilarious. Other standout
tracks are “Rich Girls”, in which Latham envisions an
alternate life for himself dwarfed by affluence, and the
brilliant “Whiskey Morning Song”, in which Latham finds
it “apropos” to see his face in a toilet. The songs need
to be experienced, to understand their poignancy. Now
that Charles Latham has moved from the SouthEast to
Philly, one can only hope he’ll be in New York more
often to perform. Do whatever you have to do to get
your hands on Beltline.
(reviewed by Max Vernon)
myspace.com/sircharleslatham
Cheese on Bread in The Search for Colonel Mustard
After their series of farewell shows last summer, who’d
have thought that the duo-that-became-a-band would
have another one in them? Casey Holford, for one. He’s
the producer of Cheese on Bread’s second (and per-
Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 28
haps last) album, and he does a stunning job. The band,
led by Sara Fitzsimmons and Dan Fishback, has a
variety of charmingly fun material, much of it composed
on the road. This is the only document of the full breadth
of the Cheese on Bread experience, featuring the full
band and a fury of special guests. There’re horns; there’re
strings; there’s theremin. It’s crazy…
Crazy also describes the lyrical style. The music is
credited to the combo; the lyrics, band stalwart Dan
Fishback. With a variety of silly lines like, “but I think
you’re beautiful, and between you and me, I mean ev-
ery sy-syllab-b-b-ble”, “he taught us how to think, now
our thinking is on the shrink,” and “I never proof-readed
the letter of love,” the fun standard on this album is
definitely funner. While previously, Fishback wrote CoB
lyrics from the POV of co-leader Fitzsimmons. Now,
he’s writing from the point of view of the entire band.
Best example? “Cornfields, Cornfields!” about the poli-
tics of food and national
tours.
The album sounds
great. Holford, who
masterminded the re-
cording at Emandee
studios, and
shepherded additional
tracks mailed in from
across the nation
(Cheese on Bread lives,
seemingly, everywhere
in America at once), has said how he’d always wanted
to hear a CoB show with a good sound system. Now
he can, and, because of his hard work, so can we all.
(reviewed by Jonathan Berger)
cheeseonbread.com
The Leader ~ Dorian Gray Days
When I first stumbled upon The Leader, all I knew about
them was their cartoonish zombie icon floating around
MySpace and Dan Fishback’s view that
“ohmygodtheleaderwillchangeyourlife.” After the Leader
finished playing, these thoughts came to mind:
· Holy shit.
· Why isn't The Leader famous?
· How do I get the CD?
Now that I’m on my eighth
listen through Dorian Gray
Days, I can confidently say
it’s the most exciting CD
I’ve heard in at least three
months (my memory
doesn’t extend back any
further). The Leader con-
sists of Julie DeLano on
bass and Sam Lazzara on
drums, both providing vo-
cals. Though their live set
surpassed expectations
about what a bass and
drum outfit could do, their CD benefits from additional
instrumentation (vibraphone, jaw harp, and trumpet)
rounding out the sound. The album has a palpable
moodiness: bass is the main instrument; the lyrics deal
with economic equality and impending dirty bomb ex-
plosions; and Julie’s vocals gravely resonate. She is
simply one of the most compelling vocalists I’ve ever
heard. It’s impossible not to shiver on the song “Kiss
Me” when she sings in this deep, knowing tone “Are
we all destined to end up like Dorian Gray? Beautiful.
Rich. Without a Soul. Murderous…” My play count on
that particular song is up to 14. Other standout tracks
on the album are “Brother,” “Walmart Astoria” and “Last
Neighborhood Song” (all but “Brother” are on their
MySpace page). The only thing that makes the Leader
even better is Sam’s percussion expertise. Sam isn’t
just another drummer in a band, but the principal per-
cussionist in the Binghamton Philharmonic. He has per-
formed in the past with legends such as Patti Smith,
Jessye Norman, and Carol Channing in addition to play-
ing on NPR. At their recent show, I saw Sam do more
with a tambourine than most do with an entire drum kit.
Dorian Gray Days gives the listener just about anything
they would want out of music: haunting melodies, im-
peccable musicianship, great singing, and intelligent
lyricism. The CD, which is available through Olive Juice
Music, is an essential purchase. Get it. Love it. Live it.
(reviewed by Max Vernon)
myspace.com/theleadernyc
Richard McGraw ~ Song and Void, Volume One
The first-time listener of Song and Void, Volume One
can be forgiven for the initial impression that they have
popped in a Lyle Lovett CD. The album-opener “Butter
Hill” has the same tasteful, muted arrangement and
yearning tenor vocal work one expects from a Lovett
recording. And frankly, it’s a welcome sound.
Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 29
However, as the CD wears on, the Lovett vocal begins
to give way to something more strangled, more melo-
dramatic, more like... Nick Cave.
Now everyone steals from everyone else; as Elvis
Costello sang, “All little sisters like to try on big sister’s
clothes.” But in the case of this record, Richard McGraw
might as well be Rich Little, for he is essentially doing
an imitation. The way he sings just feels too much like
a put-on, like a suit of clothes, like a pose. I checked
out the artist’s other, earlier album on iTunes, and from
the 30-second samples on there, it seemed obvious
that the strained melodrama in question is a more re-
cent addition.
Maybe this is a moot
point. After all, in the
mid-70’s, Tom Waits’s
new gravel-voiced ap-
proach was a self-con-
scious mutilation of
his prior smooth sing-
ing style, and is still
probably a put-on to-
day. So we’ll move on.
The craftsmanship and
sustained mood of the album is undeniable. A lot of
effort went into making this puppy, and that alone should
make it remarkable enough to warrant a listen.
Unfortunately, McGraw seems bound and determined
to make his listeners bummed out. Almost every tune
in the batch has the downbeat tempo and mournful ar-
rangement of a funeral dirge. One of the rare excep-
tions, the accordion-and-jingle-bells-adorned song
called “The Many,” actually is a funeral dirge: “This is
how I’m going to die, ay-ay-ay,” McGraw sings, “in a
bedroom all alone.”
The only real upbeat number is the lost-love reverie,
“Natasha in High School,” which forgoes the pallid Nick
Cave atmospherics in favor of something more like
Weezer crossed with Harry Nilsson. Unfortunately, this
joyous respite from the gloom confusingly pops up as
track number two, making its melancholy-lyrics-buoyed-
by-a-jaunty-melody approach that much more conspicu-
ous by its absence from the entire rest of the album
which follows. I mean, even Lyle Lovett has the good
sense to do funny songs now and again, while Nick
Cave breaks up his goth-boy gloom with some kick-
ass rock and roll.
Song and Void, Volume One, meanwhile, tries to fig-
ure out how to squeeze out emotion while remaining in
low gear. Maybe when Volume Two comes, he’ll switch
to second. (reviewed by Justin Remer)
richardmcgraw.com
Scotts Roger ~ Good Breeding
Good Breeding is an odd duck of an album, to say the
least. Mostly, it’s roots rock/Americana type stuff,
sometimes with a ’70s AM radio polish, and often with
a smartass set of lyrics. Mostly that’s what it is. Mostly.
This certainly describes the strongest material on the
disc, which I would pinpoint as the four songs at the
beginning and the four songs at the end. The six tunes
in-between wander from early ’90s pop pastiche to DIY
lo-fi rock, with varying degrees of success.
The album kicks off with “Beautiful Woman,” a toetapper
about a man who probably should have listened to the
advice of the classic Jimmy Soul song that recom-
mends, “If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life,
never make a pretty woman your wife.” Instead, our
hero has to fight the jealous pangs that come from hav-
ing a beautiful lover. It’s upbeat-sounding, but it turns
out to be the first of many songs about the strife and
strain of romance. Over the course of Good Breeding,
there’s a lot of songs about squabbling, and both She
and He get caught cheating in “Lack of Surprise” (“‘I
am late,’ the note said. ‘It’s not yours. I’m sorry.’“) and
“You and Me” (“You found her brassiere on my back
seat. So, I can’t cheat?”), respectively.
And while there are many relationship tunes, singer/
songwriter Scott Roger Peterson takes some time to
ponder other existential topics, like religion (“My Halle-
lujah”) and the pros of being a prostitute (“Crack Ho’s”).
There’s a constant balancing act in these songs be-
tween sentiment and silliness. Sometimes the two bril-
liantly coexist, like on the incredibly catchy “Way To
Go Me,” a self-deprecating portrait of arrested develop-
ment (“When I was 8, I slept in a loft bed; now I’m 28,
and I sleep in a loft bed. Way to go, me.”). Sometimes,
they don’t gel as well, like on the only major misstep
on the album, “The Dance.”
“The Dance” is a mock-
soft-rock tune that sounds
like James Blunt being pro-
duced by Something/Any-
thing?-era Todd Rundgren
on the topic of feeling an
affection for the woman giv-
ing you a lapdance. It’s full
of sketch-comedy-type ex-
cesses, like the way
someone dramatically
whispers “The Dance” after
every chorus. These
touches are not particu-
larly funny, and they undermine the offbeat lyrical sweet-
ness that is subversively snuck in throughout the song
Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 30
(“If I weren’t your client, I’d wanna give you a call”).
But the main problem with “The Dance” is that it acts
as lead-in to four of the most straight-faced songs on
the album, some of which sound only slightly less James
Blunt-y in their adult-contemporary pop approach than
“The Dance.” Wait, we’re supposed to take this sort of
thing seriously now? Well, we probably should. These
last four songs are the most focused, lyrically frank,
and memorably tuneful of the collection.
Despite its stylistic and lyrical schizophrenia, Good
Breeding has much to recommend it, so I do. (reviewed
by Justin Remer)
myspace.com/scottsroger
Willie Breeding ~ Grey Skies
Despite the fact that
Willie Breeding now
calls Brooklyn home,
he recorded his Grey
Skies EP back in Ken-
tucky. Breeding sings
not with the “voice like
an old southern man,”
as referenced in the title
track, but something
somehow more familiar.
Minimal in orchestra-
tion, featuring mainly
acoustic and electric guitar with only the most subtle
and (for the most part) well-placed piano and organ,
Breeding’s EP showcases his solid voice, which in-
vokes soft-spoken songsmiths such as Neil Young. At
the same time, the arrangements leave ample room for
beautiful harmonies from Erin Breeding, whom I can
only assume is a relative of Willie’s and whose parts
add beautiful June Carter-esque movement to Willie’s
recordings. Though fairly morose, as the EP title sug-
gests, songs such as “Bruises” and “Firing Squad”
nonetheless remain very uplifting. Themes of regret and
memories run through many of Breeding’s mid-tempo
ballads, and they stick with you long after last listen.
There are seven tracks on the album, and they’re short
on the whole, but they say much even in their abbrevi-
ated format. Breeding suggests that “All the pieces don’t
fit” in his song “Go to Bed,” yet he has undoubtedly
crafted a cohesive whole in Grey Skies. Without a re-
lease date on the jacket, it’s unclear whether this EP
meant “More When it Was New,” as Willie sings on the
fourth track. Still, due to its timeless presentation, I am
sure that this recording will stand up for many years to
come. (reviewed by Paul Alexander)
myspace.com/williebreedingmusic
 BRIAN SPEAKER
Off This Planet

the new album

September 2007
www.brianspeaker.com
www.myspace.com/speakerb
Urban Folk Autumn 2007 ~ page 31
Out Now On Family Records!
((stereo))

the bootleg series volume 1

The Undisputed Heavyweights Live From New York City
Money \ Lartigue \ Bitches Be Trippin' \ Roll Your Windows Down \ Back To You \ Just For Laughs \ A Girl Like You

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Jeff Jacobson

Cross-Pollination: The Mixtape

The Mixtape Vol. 1

Volume 1 (FR-002 / Digital Only)

Features free, exclusive downloads from some of
the most exciting past performers that were part of
the weekly Cross-Pollination concert series at Pianos.
Includes My Brightest Diamond, Jeffrey Lewis, Kevin
Devine, The Undisputed Heavyweights, Matt Singer,
Wakey!Wakey!, Jay Mankind, Cloud Cult and more.
((family records))
Download now for free at LiberatedMatter.com

Coming Soon
Wakey!Wakey! - Make A Fist Inside Your Pocket (The Bootleg Series Vol. 2)
Casey Shea - Alive & Welll (The Bootleg Series Vol. 3)
Seth Kallen & Friends - TBA In Philly (The Bootleg Series Vol. 4)
Jukebox The Ghost - TBA Full Length
Matt Singer - TBA EP
& More

Also from Liberated Matter

Cross-Pollination : A weekly concert series featuring some of the most exciting talent
NYC has to offer. Two artists each play an individual 40 minute set, followed by a 3-song
collaborative set, leading to unexpected and often spectacular musical results.
Every Tuesday at Pianos (158 Ludlow St. by Stanton), 8-10pm, FREE! 151 weeks and
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