Thursday, September 04, 2008

I blog, Ryan Adams Responds

As I am sure any loyal reader of the Greenhaus Effect Dot Com its aware, there are few things I love as much as outing indie-rockers as closet jamband kids. And since the launch and of this occasionally updated blog, we’ve exposed the jamband roots of a slew of bands with either a witty and/or ironic name, including Feist, the Decembrists, MGMT, Vampire Weekend, Yeasayer, 311, Clap Your Hands Say Last Year, MSTKRFT, The National, TV on the Radio, Incubus and Maroon 5.

But one of the few artists who has come out of the jamband closet on his own is style-shifting, taste-making, indie-punk-jam-rock cowboy Ryan Adams: He wears Grateful Dead t-shirts onstage, regularly plays with Phil Lesh and even performed at our Jammy Awards in 2005. When not rocking through tunes from his much-harder Gold or making the tabloids by dating Mandy Moore, he also jams in the most literal sense: letting his country-rock songs slide into bits of freeform improvisation before segueing into the ether. In fact, I’m tempted to say that Cold Roses is the best “Grateful Dead” album made since the 1970s and certainly more of an extension of Workingman’s Dead/American Beauty/Garcia than their immediate studio successors, Wake of the Flood and From the Mars Hotel…which is probably why Phil added many of Cold Roses' best songs into his rotation between 2005 and 2007.

So I had no problem posting the follow on both Jambands.com and Relix.com last week:

Ryan Adams Retires Songs, Summons Reckoning

On Saturday, Ryan Adams & the Cardinals played a sold-out show at San Francisco’s Fillmore Auditorium. Recalling both the spirit of the lauded room and spectator Phil Lesh, Adams stacked his setlist with a number of cuts from 2005’s Grateful Dead-inspired Cold Roses, including “Magnolia Mountain,” “Let it Ride,” “Beautiful Sorta,” “Easy Plateau” and “Cold Roses," among others. But, according to a post on his blog, the show was also something of a final hurrah for these songs before Adams begins to focus on material from his forthcoming album.

In a post titled “New/Old Jam Report,” Adams says the following:

The s.f. gig, at our lil’ lovely home away from home west coast- was a saying fare-the-well of sorts to our beloved last tour jams. now we enter new area’s/ new songs….things you will hopefully be happy to glimpse now, in their early stage powers- before they get, well, weird and lovely. also, from the old-stock, we have selected some surprises, some things electrified from the “Blue Cave (Cardinal-speak for acoustic/fragglerock/ G-D-Reckoning style set-up) and well a few things to amp things up.HEADS UP.we are the middle act on a THREE BAND BILL…..and have been given a generous hour, giver or take some…so, it will be LESS TALK/ MORE ROCK- and some tightening up you might not be used to if you are a regular….otherwise……if you are a CARDINALFAN and seen us a few clicks……hang on,cause this is where we brake off the braces and step by step, learn to channel more energy into a smaller bracket of time….and old jams in old tunes are now FREE ZONES……so, you know when we make the scary noise- and then it get’s all tripped out and pretty…..well, we don’t know what the fuck is happening there either…..and that is exploration…..and that is the new game.

In other news, Adams appears to be one of the few musicians more traditionally associated with the alt-country and indie-rock realms comfortable using the word “jam” to describe his music. The singer/songwriter describes his band by saying, “Cardinals love to jam. We're just a little gang of music fans that played hard for a long time, and you know, just want to contribute if we can to some good tunes and music, on this planet, floating at the edge of a spiral galaxy called ‘the milky way,’but probably called something else by people in the Andromeda Galaxy, because we are two thousand years behind them too.......can u imagine if they jam-or whatever jams I guess the universe is one big weird jam…”

But, apparently, Ryan isn’t as keen on the J-word as I thought since yesterday Josh found the following on his blog:

I’m dating jam’s (btw-Relix- ‘Jams’ means ‘songs.’ i learned that from Thurston interviews- i liked how he called them jams. I love that band so much. Sonic Youth. my god. its why i am out here right now- because of how much i liked all that good music.

That's right boys and girls and bloggers: This week I join such elite figures as Noel Gallager, Jay-Z and Batman as the subject of a real life Ryan Adams blog. Given my company, I figure the only way to celebrate is to run my mouth and/or put on a cape and tights, so I'll leave you with these parting words:

Ryan, if you are reading this, thanks so much for the shout out and please pardon my typos/gratuitous crazy girl references. We still love you like New York, Garth Algar hair and all, and hope that you will use the word jam as a verb once again in the near future. Until then, chin up, cheer up, and remember: don't get too deep, you might lose touch with the surface.

Wednesday, September 03, 2008

Trey Anastasio to Play Westchester


We interrupt your normal 4:30 PM coffee break for some late-breaking news from the Phish geekout camp. Trey Anastasio is playing Port Chester, NY’s Capitol Theatre on October 16. That’s right, the same Capitol Theatre where Phish played a series of epic (genre-defining?) shows in the early-1990s and the same Port Chester where I spent my high-school years rebelling against society one milk shake at a time at the Port Chester Coach (or The Roach as we affectionately called it).

I’ve often said that I’d only step foot in the shadow of my A Separate Peace-like high-school when hell froze over, but given the GOP’s Vice Presidential choice that also seems to be in motion. After playing for 1,000 next generation of prep-school hippies and suburban soccer moms in Port Chester, Ernie will continue to retrace my hippie-rock footsteps, moving through Connecticut (where many of my high-school friends lived) and onto Albany (where I attended college in nearby Saratoga). While rumors that he’ll play my block in the West Village remain unconfirmed, I’ll take the fact that Bowery Presents is promoting his Westchester date as a sign that Trey truly understands the term post-jam.

Friday, August 29, 2008

Dr. Dog Go Cold Turkey

We’ve been lucky enough to have the guys from Dr. Dog as our guests on Cold Turkey three times in the past two years. The first time was on a pier in Philadelphia, the second time was in a trailer in southern Florida and the third time was on the roof of the Relix offices last week. At least it was supposed to be on the roof of the Relix office last week. As I have when other performers stopped by our office for a brief acoustic set, I momentarily left my cube and escorted the five guys who comprise Dr. Dog to our less-glamorous-than-it-sounds roof deck. I pointed out some of the highlights: the shinny gray lawn chairs, the fake plastic plants (alas, not trees) and, most importantly, the huge cranes slowly building an office space that will one day block out view of the Empire State building.

But the always forward-thinking members of Dr. Dog got distracted by an altogether different part of the roof: our electrical room/boiler space. At first they just hoped to use the dusty room to plug in their acoustic/vintage instruments, but the guys took to the space and started setting up their equipment. Since our office building also houses a number of more 9-5 oriented offices, at first I felt like one of my friends had broken into my parent’s good liquor cabinet during a sleepover part or something. But as soon as they started rehearsing those gorgeous harmonies from Fate I relaxed and remembered why we put them on our single-month July cover. I even think they stole one of our plastic plants for their current stage setup.

Below is a link to Dr. Dog’s three-song Cold Turkey performance, which found the guys not only using one of our plugs for power, but the boiler room’s floor as a percussive instrument.

Please click here to listen

Thursday, August 28, 2008

The Dead Come Back to Life


When it rains it pours, at least when it comes to hippie-friendly reunions. First David Byrne teamed up with Brian Eno for the first time since 1981, then Trey decided to give his left nut for some more Phish and now the Dead has confirmed its first plans to hit the road since 2004. Is it me or is it time for the post-jammers to beget the jam-revivalists? So breakout your hemp necklace, undust your older sister's recipe for goo-balls and pull that Pharmer's Almanac out from under your pillow because it's tour time!

Anyways, here is the news we posted on Relix.com and Jambands.com Friday. It was written by our chief San Francisco correspondent Rich Simon who I only finally met face to face at Outiside Lands after no less than five years of weekly e-mail corrispondence. Let's just hope a new president means new gas prices, otherwise I might be visiting Shakedown via IClips.

Dead Planning Spring Tour, Obama Benefit

Sources confirm that the surviving members of the Grateful Dead -- guitarist Bob Weir, bassist Phil Lesh,and drummers Mickey Hart and Bill Kreutzmann -- are planning to tour in April and May of 2009. There's no word yet on the band's configuration -- previous configurations of "The Dead" and The Other Ones have included singer-guitar hero Warren Haynes, guitar ace Jimmy Herring, singer-guitarist Susan Tedeschi, singer Joan Osborne, keyboardists Jeff Chimenti and Rob Baracco, as well as guitarists Mark Karan and Steve Kimock.

Also in the works, likely for October 13, is a second Deadheads For Obama concert, planned for the swing state of Pennsylvania.

The first Deadheads for Obama concert took place at the Warfield in San Francisco -- with Weir, Hart, Lesh, drummer John Molo, keyboardist Steve Molitz, guitarist Larry Campbell, pedal steel player Barry Sless, singer-guitarist Jackie Greene, and Karan -- on the eve of the California Democratic primary.

The Dead allied with Obama after Lesh's son began volunteering for Obama's campaign.

"This is the real deal," Lesh said of Obama then.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Dr. Dog


Is there a Dr. (Dog) in the house? Or at least Relix's boiler room? Stay tuned for the podcast and, until then, enjoy the Felice Brothers (streaming now on your right).

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

LeRoi Moore: 1961-2008

A sad day for the scene for sure....here is the obit I wrote for Relix and Jambands.com

LeRoi Moore, saxophonist and founding member of Dave Matthews Band, died unexpectedly Tuesday afternoon, August 19, from complications stemming from an ATV accident on his farm near Charlottesville, VA. The 46-year-old saxophonist was injured in an ATV accident on June 30, 2008 and has been off the road since that time. Though the saxophonist originally seemed to be recovering, he was readmitted to the hospital in mid-July. Moore recently has returned to his Los Angeles home to begin an intensive physical rehabilitation program and died at the Hollywood Presbyterian Medical Center.

Before helping popularize the second generation jamband movement, Moore was a local Virginia jazz musician proficient on such instruments as saxophones, flute, bass clarinet and wooden penny whistle. Along with Matthews, drummer Carter Beauford and bassist Stefan Lessard, Moore co-founded Dave Matthews Band in 1991. He appears on all six of the group’s studio releases, as well as the band’s numerous live documents. His co-writing credits include such DMB cuts as “Too Much,” “#34,” “Pig” and “Stay.”

Though Moore was the least visible member of the band offstage, he appears on an eclectic mix of non-Dave Matthews Band releases, ranging from Nas’ Hip Hop Is Dead to Soko's In November Sunlight to Hootie & The Blowfish’s Musical Chairs and Code Magenta's self-titled release. In addition, Moore sat in with a wide number of musicians over the years, including five cameos with Phish between the years 1994 and 1997. Along with his bandmates, Moore also participated in Warren Haynes’ 1993 Ritz Power Jam, a seminal jam session that featured Haynes, John Popper, Noel Redding, Chuck Leavell, Bernie Worrell, Jaimoe, Trey Anastasio and Mike Gordon, among others.

Flecktones saxophonist Jeff Coffin has been subbing for Moore throughout Dave Matthews Band’s summer tour. The group took the stage as planned the night of Moore’s passing at Los Angeles’ Staples Center and opened with “Bartender,” a song whose opening lyrics include the lines “if I go/before I'm old/ oh, brother of mine/please don't forget me if I go." As of press time, the group has made no statement about its future plans.

Monday, August 18, 2008

David Byrne for Download

I was beyond stoked to be cited as a source on the new wikipedia page for David Byrne's first album with Brian Eno since 1981 (oddly enough the year I was born), so I figured I'd go ahead and make the album available for streaming on my poorly updated blog.



If you happen to see a similar stream popping up on other websites/blogs/digital confessions this week it means DB's experimental marketing approach is working. If you happen to see me in Red Bank, NJ on November 3, I'll probably be bouncing. I'll hopefully be bouncing on November 4 as well, but that's for the polls to decide.

Monday, July 07, 2008

Backwards Down the Number Line: A Live Trey Blog

It’s been about one year, three months and 27 days since Trey Anastasio’s last official performance, and we’re ready for a geekout the likes of which have not been seen since Phish busted our “Harpua” way back in the pre-post-jam era of ought three. But, as luck would have it, we’re sitting in a wi-fi accessible field in Rothbury, MI waiting for Big Red himself to take the stage for his first full performance since graduating from drug court earlier this spring. In case you pretended to check out of the Phish scene after the last Trey Anastasio Band gig at Langerado 2007, here’s what you missed: Page put together both a band and a new album, Mike is ready to release his first proper solo release since 2003 and Fishman has been dividing is time between a series of outings with Yonder Mountain String Band, family tour, and, apparently, co-opting Relix’s Rothbury studios for some quality time with an MTV film crew and his can of sugar free Red Bull (now that is post-jam). In terms of Trey, to the best of our knowledge he’s only made five public appearance since Langerado: a guest spot with Dave Matthews Band at SPAC, a surprise gig with Phil Lesh in Glens Falls, a cameo at the Jammys, a sit in with Robert Randolph at Jones Beach and an intimate acoustic set for students in upstate New York’s Road to Recovery program. Oh yeah, and everyone from Rolling Stone to Stereogrum assures us we’re getting a Phish reunion for Hanukkah.

Internet willing, we’re going to spend the next hour or so live blogging during Trey’s set, crossing our fingers for a 3/4ths Phish reunion (both Mike and Fishman also played this weekend) and trying to figure out why I suddenly slip into the second person when I get nervous ‘n excited. Until then, I’m going to continue to roll my eyes while my podcast co-host Benjy tunes his guitar to the tune of “Stash.” Hippie.

4:20: For a “fallen rock star,” people are pretty excited to see Trey. In fact, the minute Trey arrives onsite the rest of the weekend’s performances are almost rendered side-stage attractions (though my friends assure me that if Jennifer Aniston sits in with her current +1 John Mayer, it will be the most trafficked article in Relix history). It’s strange how you don’t appreciate people until they’re gone. But there’s no time for deep thoughts in this Dazed and Confused fantasy, so I assume my prime bouncing position (knees arched, smile turned up).

4:30: “Get Back on the Train” I could probably write a thesis and/or really long PT post on why this song is Trey’s unofficial theme, but I’ll cut things short by saying it was a fitting choice to open his first performance in 15 months.

4:34: “Brian and Robert“ This song has always been one of my favorite latter-day Phish ballads. This afternoon Trey seems to place particular emphasis on the line “All alone the life you lead/A silent diner where you feed/Bow your head pretend to read.” Long gone are the days of silly lyrics and no setlists. Trey has something to say this afternoon.

4:37: “Water in the Sky” Another choice Ghost track. Trey seems to emphasize the song’s bluegrass undertones this afternoon. In fact, this song wouldn’t sound out of place at the quaint, dusty folk fests my parents used to bring me to as a kid. People still scream when Trey sings the line “filter out the everglades,” which makes me smile. It’s nice to know that the Phish language still exists, especially since most of the people sitting in my general vicinity are screaming out of tradition, not memory. The song’s sweet little outro also makes me smile.

4:40: Trey speak: “It feels really good to be here, thanks so much.” Trey looks really healthy---not as skinny and pale as before Coventry.

4:41 “Secret Smile” I never minded this song, but the crowd’s energy dips and my mind begins to wander. Some guy a few rows ahead of me is holding a sign that says, “Mike still says no.” I remember liking “Secret Smile’s” string intro on Undermind, but don’t remember exactly what it sounded like.

4:44 “Driver” I keep thinking Trey is going to bust into “Friend of the Devil,” but he plays “Driver” instead. My first thought is “Phish could make a great kids album when they come back.” I’ve never paid much attention to the line, “I'm moving through this life and I'm thinking about the next/And hoping when I get there I'll be better dressed,” but it’s an interesting statement on growing up and slipping into your adult shows (and clothes). I was watching a Phish DVD the other day and had this strange thought that the worse Trey dresses, the better he performs (Youth Symphony performances not included). But then again, maybe I’m just saying that because the New Yorker in me thought it was a good idea to wear a collared shirt and jeans in 80 degree weather.

4:47 “Inlaw Josie Wales” Trey picks up a different guitar and plays “Inlaw Josie Wales.” I totally forgot about this song, but it’s a nice interlude. For some reason it reminds me of the “media blitz” that surrounded Farmhouse's release, which seems like nothing in an era of reunion rumors and Kanye rants.

4:50 “Farmhouse” The afternoon’s biggest cheer so far. Trey replicates Mike and Page’s backing vocals by singing the song’s chorus a few extra times. Sure it’s no “Harry Hood,” but I love this song in all its Bob Marley glory. Trey has come a long way as a vocalist since he wrote his first real ballad for Rift. He used to sing softy to show emotion, but now he knows how to use his voice as an instrument. Maybe something good came out of his strange forte into Shine-y pop/rock after all.

4:53 “Let Me Lie” I guess we all knew we’d get at least a few solo cuts and, after 23 minutes of pure Phish, I can’t really complain. The “leave me way up here” line also makes sense given Trey’s introspective mood this afternoon. It is also a sign of just how personal his songs became during his darkest days post-Phish---though that line about him taking his shirt off and riding his bike still kind of freaks me out in that “I just walked in on my older relative in the bathroom” kind of way. His voice is also starting to crack, a sign he’s been off the road for a while and/or not used to singing this much..

4:56 “Sample in a Jar” The crowd erupts and the guy standing next to me screams “here we go.” In 1994 this was Phish’s sellout song, but now we greet it like an old friend. Time is a funny thing. After a tentative beginning, Trey shifts into full rock-star mode and powers through the song’s last few verses. The crowd erupts again and my screen starts to melt. But that could be because someone shot me with a bubble gun. Can’t a blogger catch a break? I thought hippies were peaceful.

5:00 Trey Speak Two: Oddly enough there is a town near Rothbury called Whitehall. Nodding to his arrest in Whitehall, NY, Trey says, “I’m happy to be back in Michigan. I woke up in the car on my way here and the sign read Whitehall and it was a very scary moment. I had no idea I was going to wake up 18 months later back in Whitehall, but I’m happy to be here.” There is an awkward moment of silence which Trey laughs off by saying, “most of you probably don’t know what that means, but this song is for the people of Whitehall…”

5:01 “Mountains in the Mist” Another great ballad chosen for lines like:

"several times, unconsciously/I've stumbled upon the path,” “I guess I'm just an obstacle/A thing to overcome”

"the moment seems to hang and float/Before me with no end’ 'till I'm released, awaken beast/I'm on the road again.”

"A fleck of dust up in the sky/Where tiny clouds go sailing by/Pull me down today”

I’ve never taken the line “but now I’m soaring far too high” as a direct reference to the members of Phish, but it makes sense in retrospect.

5:05 “Wading in the Velvet Sea” Not sure why Trey feels it necessary to play a song he wrote for Page, but I’m not going to complain. My friend makes a now obligatory comment about crying at Coventry.

5:08 "Sleep Again" Win Butler once sang, "sleeping is giving in, so lift those heavy eyelids." It would be the ultimate post-jam segue if Trey did a medley of those songs

5:11 “Waste” A classic from Phish’s most mature album. Someone screams when he sings the word “outlaw” and a beach ball goes flying across our patch of grass, but my mind drifts to the first time I heard this song back in high school. I was in English class and I heard the song’s refrain outside my window during a boring class on the fundamentals of grammar and spelling that, in retrospect, I probably should have paid better attention to. It still makes me smile all these years later.

5:15 We temporally interrupt this moment of introspection to bring you Mike Gordon. He arrives onstage wearing his purple pants from the Jammys and carrying a headless electric bass. Someone screams “stop beating around the bush.” Trey says he and Mike are going to play two new Trey/Tom originals and jokes “if only we could find a drummer and keyboard player.” As if to prove that Phish will not be a nostalgia act, he then says, “but it’s got to start with the songs, so you can be our test audience.”

5:18 “Backwards Down the Number Line” The first new Phish song since 2004? Tom mailed Trey this song on his birthday and it might be the most Phish sounding song I’ve heard since “Grind”: quirky lyrics about friendship, obtuse references to growing up in New Jersey and a cool breakdown that will no doubt be stretched out when/if this song sees the light of day. The line “all my friends come backwards down the number line” is prime fodder for lot shirts and future Facebook status updates. In fact, I’m going to beat the rush and change my status to “Mike Greenhaus is going backwards down the number line” right now! Trey says he taught both these of these songs to Mike five minutes before their show.

5:21: “Alaska” Another new original whose intro kind of sounds like “Clone.” Like “Backwards Down the Number Line,” it sounds very Phishy, which reminds me just how un-Phishy Trey’s recent solo work actually sounds. The word “eskimo” in particular is such a Phish-sounding lyric that I’m surprised it’s never popped up in a Trey/Tom song before. Trey says, “take it Cactus” before Mike’s bass solo. People already seem to favor “Alaska” over “Number Line,” but that’s just because it feels new and fresh compared to its six minute older brother.

5:26 “Chalkdust” A great crowd pleaser featuring the afternoon’s only real “jam.” Mike and Trey offer a dual guitar/bass solo not unlike the Allman Brothers Band twin guitar peaks. Mike’s sleeveless t-shirt and purple pants also affirm my abovementioned fashion statement.

After the show, we all run over to see Mike’s new band on one of Rothbury’s smaller stages. He plays a bunch of great new songs and covers a number by “Ya Mar” authors the Mustangs. While weighing the pros-and-cons of paying $5 for a piece of matzah pizza, I see Trey pop out of the wings and move a bit closer to the stage and a bit closer to erasing all my journalistic integrity. It looks like Trey left his electric guitar on the east coast, so Mike’s great new band jams for a bit while they round up a backup axe. Mike has never looked so charismatic onstage and his bass is sounding more pronounced then ever. He talks about love for a minute, before saying, “I love my new band and I love my old band too.” Trey finally finds a guitar and takes the stage for a jam with Mike’s band. They then bust into a tight version of “Meat” that remains loose and funky, and Jon Fishman makes his way onstage for the song’s final jam segment. Mike proceeds to introduce his bandmates and special guests, before turning to Fishman and screaming “Fish” into the microphone. Though still missing a page, the group runs through a version of the Beatles’ “She Said She Said” that’s tight enough to ensure that my text message inbox fills to capacity. As if retain a spec of my New York indie-cred, I pull up the Brooklyn Vegan on my laptop, before shutting down and running to Gov’t Mule in hopes of another Phishy cameo.


Well that’s it. Looks like the internet prevented me from posting this as Phish was almost reuniting, but those were my “in the moment” thoughts. Hopefully I’ll figure out how to actually live blog before Trey finds a drummer and keyboardist to play “Backwards Down the Number Line” with him and Mike.

Wednesday, July 02, 2008

After the Goldrush Revisited

I interviewed a musician yesterday who admitted that he has a hard time listing to his own music because "he wishes he could go back and tweak certain parts of his songs." As a 'writer,' I often feel the same way and wish I could make subtle changes to my articles and blogs after the fact. With that in mind, I'm probably only happen with a small fraction of my work, but I am proud of After the Goldrush and hope to make it an annual state of the union. Since I'm about to publish After the Goldrush Part II, I figured I'd revisit the inaugural installment from 2007.

So, to be perfectly honest, I’m pretty disappointed David Bowie didn’t play with Arcade Fire at Radio City Music Hall as had been heavily rumored in the weeks leading up the first annual High Line Music Festival. Not because I needed to see David Bowie (I saw him a few years back and his live show is as outdated as a pair of old bell bottoms) or because Arcade Fire needed a sit-in to save its show (frankly there were so many people onstage, I probably wouldn’t have even noticed he was up there), but because I haven’t called a David Bowie set-closer since Phish played Hampton in 2004. And, once you’re caught in the fast moving current of underground music, three years can feel like a lifetime.


Above: Win Butler, the Exeter Days

That being said, after a few days of not so silent deliberation, I’m proud to move Arcade Fire’s recent string of New York shows into the mini-pantheon that houses my ten favorite live performances (peace out “Piper” from Oswego ’99, you’ve been downgraded to number 11). It feels like hyperbole, but, in all honestly, like the Grateful Dead, Phish, and Radiohead before them, without much pomp and circumstance, Arcade Fire has changed the essence of what the live performance can and should be all about. If a Grateful Dead/Phish show is all about space and a Radiohead performance is all about atmosphere, then an Arcade Fire concert is most certainly all about intensity: the barrage of onstage musicians, the pulsating drum beats, the death-laced lyrics and, especially, the giant, Springsteen-like grandeur of guitarist/frontman Win Butler.

But, unlike the Grateful Dead, Phish, and Radiohead, I still vividly remember a time before Arcade Fire existed and I’m still struggling to figure out how a band can alter the pulse of popular music in less time than it took George W. Bush to screw up his first presidential term. Arcade Fire entered my world less than two years into their existence, in 2004, when my friend Dan saw them in at Arlene’s Grocery (a tiny club whose capacity is only 90 people larger than the group’s roster), and I checked them out for myself about a year later. I liked them enough, especially their cover of the Springsteen rarity “Jersey Girls,” but always figured their hype would eventually outweigh their music. But, in the intervening eighteen months, something incredible happened: Arcade Fire disappeared, created a dark, haunting second album and blossomed from a band you “should check out’ to a band you “needed to see”…multi-times…in a row…in different cities…on the same tour…after careful studying annotated fan-sites like www.arcadefire.net. Bono began playing their Funeral album before his concerts, Trey Anastasio was spotted side-stage at Central Park and, on near consecutive visits, Arcade Fire brought out the New York art community’s two most important Davids (Bowie and Byrne). They underplayed their biggest markets, hid from the media, while allowing A-list celebrities to sell their brand, and, on both Tuesday and Wednesday of last week, I found myself dancing--- err sweating--- through enough shirts at their shows to drive my dry cleaning bill into the triple digits. The music felt good, the energy felt big and the band/audience interaction felt intimate. In a lot of ways, it felt like a Phish show, only with less glowsticks and more hair gel.

Which begs the questions: who is Win Butler, why did Trey pass him his torch, and how the hell do I get in touch with him so I can forward my dry cleaning bills?

And, after some stealth research, this is what I found: Long before he saved indie-rock, or even forged a French-Canadian accent, Win Butler, or Edwin Farnham Butler III as he was known in his prep-school days, attended New Hampshire’s Phillip Exeter Academy with one of my closest childhood friends. He grew up in Texas, not Montreal, where his father worked for Halliburton, and used his mammoth size to score a spot on the varsity basketball team (thus making Butler the coolest thing to not come out of Canada since Levon Helm). According to my friend’s yearbook, he sat at the cool-kids’ table and helped establish an Exeter tradition called Winter Thaw (think A Separate Peace set during Spring Break). From an early age he had both impeccable taste in music (his yearbook cites both Bono and Morrissey) and an excellent command of the English language (an early poem reads: “let me hold you silent dream, before his place wipes me clean”). He played a variety of dorm room jam sessions with Arcade Fire co-founder Josh Deu and Arcade Fire’s current keyboardist, his brother Will. The group’s name is taken from a fire which took place at the local Exeter video arcade or, as my friend describes it, the biggest thing to happen in Andover, NH, since the College Board released its official guide to the SAT. Clearly, Win Butler had something special from the beginning, a charm, a charisma, though one wonders if he’d have the same level of success if he stuck with his original prep-school jamband, Willy Wanker and the Chocolate Factories.

As the story goes, after spending a year studying poetry and art at Sarah Lawrence College, Win Butler dropped out of school and began slinging wooden clogs in Boston (heady). Soon after, he joined Deu at Montréal’s McGill University, met his future wife, a Haitian-born singer named Régine, and changed the face of popular music while I was still figuring out how to change my own sheets (ah freshman year). His story reminds me of another former prep-school hippie, or hip school preppie, who graduated from Taft in the early-1980s and spent the rest of that decade working his way through the northeast’s maze of clubs and keg parties. Like Butler, his family came from a decidedly square background (lest we forget Ernest Anastasio II helped write the SAT) and, I suspect, much like Butler, Ernest “Trey” Anastasio III had at a young age, a charm, a charisma, which allowed him to do something different, something special.


I’ll admit it: I didn’t find Phish during the “Nectar’s-era,” “the Big Ball-era” or even the “Clifford Ball-era,” but, instead, during the high-school yearbook era, which roughly stretched from the release of Billy Breathes until the start of Phish’s first hiatus (was there ever a song more custom designed for yearbook pages than “Chalk Dust Torture.?”) Now, my high-school alma mater is known for many things: the place Barbara Bush spent her pre-teen years, an average SAT score which is easily divisible by the number 1400 and an alumni board filled with names that end in suffixes like Esq., MD and III. But, the one thing my prep-school isn’t exactly known for is its command of the jamband alphabet (indeed, our jam-rock education seemed to stop at the letter d with the discovery of Dispatch and Dave Matthews). The first person in my prep-school class to find the Vermont Quartet, as far as I can remember, was a girl named Sarah, who, in retrospect, probably found Phish through her slightly older brother. She’d talk about the mid-1990s Phish shows I missed (Big Birch ’94, Great Woods ’95) and I wasn’t surprised when I saw her in the hallway the first time I caught Phish at Madison Square Garden. We both kind of looked at each other from a distance and grinned, as if to say ‘what are you doing here.’ Some questions don’t need to be answered.

After graduation, I attended a heady college, stored the Pharmer’s Almanac under my pillow and gradually found the other bands now stuffed together in the favorites section of my MySpace page. I remember bumping into Sarah the summer after our freshman year of college at an early Berkfest, right before moe.’s main stage set. I wanted to tell her about all the new bands I’d found in the intervening year, how Phish led me to moe. and moe. led to String Cheese and String Cheese led to me to the Berkshires, but, instead, we both kind smiled with that familiar grin. Around the same time I also heard her older brother overdosed near the end of his senior year of college---the first person I lost on the long journey from high-school to Coventry. I saw Sarah a few times on Phish’s final tour in 2004 and then again at a Flaming Lips show at Webster Hall, but, as I began to see more and more music, I began to see her less and less.

In retrospect, it feels pretty silly to equate the act of discovering new music to adventurers flocking west for the first time. But, like those settlers, after a band’s time has come and gone…after the hype…after the gold rush, all that’s left is some good music and a hopeful search for the next big thing (and, of course, a web of poorly updated fan-sites).

It’s eerily fitting that as one of my high-school peers ascends to international fame, my high-school hero finds himself court-ordered to live in my college town, to eat at my college coffee shop (“large, no sugar”), shop at my college record shop (“new vinyl player”) and not? drink at my college bar (sorry DAs). After Coventry, my friend and colleague Jesse equated the end of Phish to the proposed final chapter of the Superman saga, when, instead of being gunned down in a Sopranos-style shooting, Clark Kent met his final fate by simply become human. And, if the simple thought of Trey Anastasio wandering through my old college town isn’t enough anymore to make me quit my job at Relix, grow out my latent Jew fro and signup for another four years at Skidmore, it’s certainly enough to remind me that at the end of day, rock-stars are nothing more than normal, talented people with something special.

I guess part of me wishes I saw Arcade Fire at Arlene’s Grocery that night in 2004, before David Bowie sat-in and the gold rush really set-in. But, at the same time, I wonder if that experience would have changed the memory I have of hearing my favorite Arcade Fire song, “Haiti,” for the first time, if that nugget of music would have felt as fresh and original. I tried to remember the first time I heard Arcade Fire at Radio City last week, but I couldn’t focus on my memories. The music felt too good, and the only thing I could think about was how expensive their dry cleaning bill must be each night (I guess you need a Halliburton inheritance to clean ten outfits each night).

Like a not as deep as it sounds scene from Garden State, as I left the show, I saw Sarah in the corner of my eye, talking with a group of friends near Radio City’s marquee. She looked just as I remembered her, perhaps a bit older, cleaner, and all around more “indie-rockafied.” I thought about walking over to her, wondering where she was going, remembering where she had been, but, instead, I stepped into the subway, knowing we’d meet again, sometime after the gold rush.

I was lyin' in a burned out basement
With a full moon in my eyes
I was hopin' for a replacement
When the sun burst through the skies
There was a band playin' in my head
And I felt like getting high
Thinkin' about what a friend had said,
I was hopin' it was a lie
Thinkin' about what a friend had said,
I was hopin' it was a lie
-Neil Young, “After the Gold Rush”

Relix Associate Editor/Jambands.com Senior Editor Mike Greenhaus wishes Arcade Fire were around ten years ago so he could have quoted them on his high-school yearbook page.

Tuesday, July 01, 2008

MGMT Loves the OTHER MG

OBV. MGMT were Phish kidz back in the day....Andrew even has Mike Gordon's purple pants!

Relix Ink Blots: Steel Train

We recently launched our very own Relix HD TV series to complement our web of niche-friendly magazines and podcasts (like this new episode here). My dear friend Regan (of Rob and Regan, not Ronald Reagan) filmed some pretty sweat videos down at Bonnaroo, including Bela Fleck, Larry Campbell and our current favorite arena-rockers (is it too soon to say that?) My Morning Jacket. But, my favorite clip has to be of my good friends and fellow neurotic Jews Steel Train. As some of you may recall, I recently spent a few days in a van with these guys, driving through the south from Langerado to SXSW, trying to see how long five curly-haired Jewish hippie-types and an African-American could go without either reenacting My Cousin Vinnie by way of Bonnaroo or delving into the world's longest game of Jewish geography (Jack and I went to the same summer camp, who knew?). Turns out we not only survived, but I made a big enough splash to get name-checked in Steel Train's Relix HD debut. I'd prefer a shout out when Steel Train plays Conan on July 7, but I'll take it! Until then, I'll get Evan and Jack do the joking:

Bonnaroo Ink Blot Test with Steel Train from Relix on Vimeo.

Saturday, June 28, 2008

Something Phishy

The gay pride parade may be rolling through the West Village as I type, but the weekend’s biggest coming out celebration actually took place on Stereogum.com. I’ve long suspected that the boys behind the web’s biggest indie-blog were closet jam-kids: not only are their jamband jabs littered with insider references (a choice quip: "anyone ever actually hear [moe.]? We remember "Rebubula" -- with its harmonizing-guitar head sounding like a bpm-boosted Allman's cut -- but beyond that our memory is cashed), but the site’s primary visionaries grew up in Long Island during the 1990s---a time when any music dork who spent way too much time on the internet probably stumbled into a Phish show or two while buying a new baja. But, on Friday Sterogum finally came out and said what we all already knew: they want their Phish back. Maybe even more than the the hippies, who seem to have universally claimed My Morning Jacket, Wilco and Radiohead as their arena-size saviors.

I've always liked a wide range of music, from punk to pop to---of course---Phish, so I’m not sure why it makes me so happy to out my favorite indie-bands 'n bloggers as retired jamband kids. Maybe it’s because I'm fed up with the now invisible border between Bonnaroo and Coachella or maybe it's because I've seen one too many of my former Phish-head friends switch stylistic teams in the name of the hype-machine. Or maybe it's because, at the end of the day, musical genres are tied to the times as much as they are social cliques, meaning that trends come and go, age and evolve, lineally along pop-culture's X/Y axis.

No matter what the reason, I hope you all enjoy this post as much as I did when my good friend and fellow post-jam aficionado Jon Bahr sent it to me late Friday night (fittingly enough, after we saw the P-J holy trinity of Cold War Kids, Elvis Perkins and Sam Champion at Prospect Park, complete with a sit in by Guster’s Brian Rosenworcel).

Since its filled with enough obtuse Phish facts to qualify as Greenhaus Effect.com post, I also encourage you to break out that dusty copy of the Pharmer's Alamnac to reference while you read. Who knows? You might need it for tour sooner than you think anyway!

Below: My Phish tour crew, pre-Post-Jam
Pop quiz for my older friends: Of the following people, since this picture was taken which person has:

1) Publicly performed with a Disco Biscuit
2) Casted a TV game show
3) Ran a burlesque club
4) Befriended Trey (for real)
5) Tied the knot
6) Had a kid
7) spelled his own name wrong on more than one occasion
8) offered to give me a ride to Rothbury (I hope that offer still stands)
9) taught over 300 students
10) learned to dress like a hipster, but still dreads easily after a long night out

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Dudes and D'ohs

One of the greatest lines in all of Seinfeld was muttered just four episodes into the series’ first season. After having lunch with an annoying old camp friend (the “summer George,” if you recall), Jerry says with a hint of nostalgia that “there are certain people he’ll be friends with forever, whether he likes it or not.”

I’ve always loved that line, not so much because I want to get rid of any friends (accept maybe the cockblockers-----j/k), but because there comes a point when you have been friends with people for so long that you have to actively redefine your friendship with them as you grow older and enviably settle down. And, by and large, I’ve found that if you can make it through a two-course dinner with someone without simply reciting the "where are they now?" section of your alumni directory, you will stay friends forever.

For certain high school friends that bond is politics, for other old flames its memories and, for the friend I like to affectionately refer to as “The Sharpest Tool in the Shed,” it’s that age old hunt for the lower part of the female anatomy. Having spent my entire academic life in “private institutions,” I’d say most of my friends tend to analyze their lives as if they were Shakespearian tragedies, which is probably why I always loved hanging out in the Sharpest Tool in the Shed: I spend hours a day carefully massaging my e-mail inbox (and concert calendar), he doesn’t own a computer. I’ve spent my adult life trying to be a fly on the wall at cultural events (or at least hetty shows), he thinks hockey is a highbrow sport. I have an entire blog devoted to the wonder years of growing up and falling in love (as well as, of course, hetty shows), his life motto is “I should hit that shit.” But, at the end of the day, we actually speak the same language, even though most of his deep thoughts are tied to the word “dude.”

Then, a few years ago, something rather strange happened: he got a girlfriend. And, like so many friends over the years, Brooklyn domestication turned out to be a major bummer for his bros.
Even when I’d come to his house for dinner or drinks, I was quickly classified as one of his “stupid, beer drinking buddies” and immediately castrated by any of his girlfriend’s readily available female friends. I’m sure the irony of the whole situation is worth a blog itself, but let’s just say his thoughts on politics, relationships and life were a more interesting when they boiled down to variations of the word ass.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but in order to keep our otherwise R rated friendship alive, we also kind of subconsciously created “fake, PG mutual interests” like, um, our mutual love of Weezer. But, as much as I hoped "Buddy Holly" could keep our bond alive for another decade, part of me knew our friendship was waning.

But, another summer has arrived, once again The Sharpest Tool in the Shed is single and we can thankfully spend our weekends overanalyzing the finer things in life, like the difference between bum cakes and ButterFaces, coogers and cheetahs. And though I’m sad things didn’t work out with his future MILF, I’m glad to have him at the other end of the bar, boiling my misapplied metaphors down to a series of “dudes" and "D'ohs.”

I just hope we join a soccer league next time one of us changes our Facebook status.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

A Month of MMJ


Since I'm about one podcast away from jumping the shark with my My Morning Jacket obsession, I figured I'd post my final two Zenbu Media-sponsored MMJ articles in one blogger friendly post. Feel free to also read my initial thoughts on the album, interview with the band and review of their Bonnaroo set to complete your Mikey Greenhaus geekout collection.

My Morning Jacket, Radio City Music Hall, NY-6/20

For bands that have by and large made their name on the road, the process of aging from musicians to rock stars tends to happen in small steps over an extended period of time. Though it’s difficult to say exactly when and where the members of My Morning Jacket graduated from working musicians to guitar-rock torchbearers, there’s no question the Kentucky-based, Bonnaroo-bred quintet’s Radio City debut felt more like an event than a rock show—complete with the requisite circus excitement, text message barrage and inevitable backlash that goes along with any musical milestone.

My Morning Jacket framed its largest headlining show like any other club gig, just on a much bigger scale: no sit-ins, no covers, lots of energy. As expected, the group ran through almost all of its recent Evil Urges, including the guitar workout “Aluminum Park,” the haunting “Smokin’
From Shootin’” and both parts of the album’s genre-burning arc, “Touch Me I’m Going to Scream.” Throughout the almost continuous 26-song performance, MMJ also offered a number of older gems, including “The Bear” and the dreamy “Bermuda

Highway,” as well as a mammoth reading of its breakthrough “One Big Holiday.” Though The Jacket is primarily Jim James’ vision, now more than ever, the ensemble felt like a tried-and-true band, powered by the thick, funky basslines of “Two-Tone” Tommy Blankenship and multi-instrumentalist Carl Broemel. "In fact, the group offered some of its best jams when James strapped on a wireless guitar and made his way up the stage-left wings
to the first balcony, leaving his bandmates—particularly Animal-like
drummer Patrick Hallahan—to shine on the stage below."

Of course, like any buzz show, there were complaints: James’ vocals felt flat at times, the now-mythic “Cobra” never appeared and the evening’s setlist lacked the special guests and equally eclectic covers that marked Bonnaroo’s two-set marathon. But, more than ever, My Morning Jacket successfully harnessed its crowd’s collective energy and finally felt ready to bring its show to an arena-size stage as it will the next time its come to NYC—to headline Madison Square Garden for New Year’s Eve.

Evil Urges - My Morning Jacket
Mike Greenhaus

ATO Records

My Morning Jacket moved from playing dingy Louisville bars to blogger-friendly festivals around the time many of the original third-wave jambands started fading into the ether, which means the group was quickly dubbed the undisputed torchbearer of classic guitar-rock. But, from the lo-fi experimentations that informed their debut The Tennessee Fire to the weird, not-quite jams that fill the group’s early EPs, Jim James and the members of My Morning Jacket were always experimentalists at heart. So it is somewhat fitting that at a time when every singer/songwriter sporting more than a 5 o’clock shadow has seemingly tailored his style to replicate the classic Jim James sound, My Morning Jacket has moved in the opposite direction, creating a dense, funky, psychedelic album that would fit more comfortably next to Flaming Lips or Prince than either At Dawn or It Still Moves.

Like 2005’s Z, Evil Urges finds the Kentucky-bred quintet masking its raw muscle with glitchy studio wizardry rather than acoustic guitars and reverb drenched vocals. In fact, James has tweaked his voice to such an extent that he now employs two microphones onstage. But, from start to finish, those classic My Morning touches are still there, buried beneath a thick layer of conscious fuzz, where one gets the sense James always felt they belonged. “For thoughtless folks like me and J, who'd pay, but can't afford, the finer things in life,” he mused on the key At Dawn cut “X-Mas Curtain.” “So we heist them all...”

In many ways, Evil Urges is actually two very different albums, conceptually split down the middle by, appropriately enough, the song “Two Halves.” For lack of a better term, the disc’s A-side is the more experimental portion, driven by studio gimmicks and longtime drummer Patrick Hallahan’s big, funky dance beats. From the opening notes of the infectious digital single “Evil Urges,” My Morning Jacket reintroduces itself as a band of high-tech studio-savvy experimentalists, with James cloaking his voice in the high pitched falsetto that defines Evil Urges’ first six tracks. The group then proceeds to contextualize the eclectic mix of covers its introduced since Z, nodding to Prince (the aforementioned “Evil Urges”), Lionel Richie (the soulful future wedding staple “Thank You Too!”) and even AC/DC (the odd, surprisingly agro freak-attack “Highly Suspicious,” perhaps the album’s only true dud). As James moves further and further away from his once signature reverb drenched vocals, his lyrics have also become more revelatory, simultaneously tackling national affairs and his own fears about loss and love. In that sense, though My Morning Jacket has always been something of a vehicle for his songs, Evil Urges is his most personal album, yet oddly enough his bandmates are more musically pronounced than ever before (also of note: the only songwriting credit James shares with his bandmates on the entire disc is the short breakdown jam section of the album's title cut).

The album’s B-side is more traditional My Morning Jacket, filled with classic rock gems like and a few more gentle interludes like the soft, haunting “Librarian” -- a vintage MMJ moment that could fit on Harvest were it not for a somewhat obtuse reference to “the interweb.” Elsewhere, James channels the spirit of Bruce Springsteen by way of the Boss’ protégé Win Butler (“Aluminum Park”), nods to his country-rock roots (“Look at You”) and revels in some fine stoner shenanigans (the odd, four second “Her Majesty” epilogue “Good Intentions”). As Evil Urges winds down, My Morning Jacket kicks out its best post-jam yet, “Smokin from Shootin,” an unassuming rocker that slowly builds into emotional masterpiece. The song also contains some of the group’s best yearbook-ready lyrics, including the slightly rhetorical question, “do you live your life on the road, losing out on love, asking for nothing, running for something that isn't there?”

Also split down the middle is Evil Urges’ signature moment, “Touch Me I'm Going to Scream,” which sits in two parts on either side of the album’s conceptual split. “Touch Me I'm Going to Scream Pt.1” is a dreamy, Flaming Lips-like plea, both hopeful and romantic, while its companion frames an almost identical set of lyrics in an entirely different stylistic context. Thick, danceable and emotionally guarded, the seven-minute “Touch Me I'm Going to Scream Pt. 2,” is perhaps the most tangible proof yet that My Morning Jacket holds duel citizenship on either side of the great indie/jam divide.

So, in the end, while Evil Urges’ A-side was clearly sequenced upfront for a reason, it’s the record’s B-Side that packs the biggest punch and will either propel MMJ out of their comfortable critic’s corner or alienate a sizable portion of their original fans... or both. For even though Evil Urges is in many ways the group’s least accessible work since signing with ATO, it’s also tailored for the big, arena stages My Morning Jacket are finally ready to frequent on their own.

The Greenhaus Effect will now return to its regularly scheduled rants on new grooves and old rants. Until, of course, MMJ hits the road in September



Monday, June 23, 2008

Earplug Alert!

Above: Sidestage at Bonnaroo Vampire Weekend comes out of the jamband closet. I wonder what Phish show he bought that shirt at?

It has been a while since I've spent a solid seven days in New York. A few weeks? A month, perhaps? Either way, I'll try to fill you all in on my most recent personal typos over the next few days. In the meantime, I hope to see some of you out and about in New York at the following shows

Tuesday: Marco Benevento Trio, DJ Logic, Mocean Worker @ (le) Poisson Rouge (new venue at the old Village Gate)

Wednesday: Josh Dion @ Bitter End

Thursday: Juan MacLean @ Santo's Party House

Friday: Cold War Kids, Elvis Perkins, Sam Champion @ Prospect Park (free! no excuses)

Saturday Afternoon: Titus Andronicus et al @ East River Ampitheater

Saturday Night: The Duo @ The Yard (Relix and Jambands.com are giving away two pairs of tickets for the intimate gig, which will take place on the banks of the Gowanus Canal.)

Sunday (earlier): (Summer)Time Unamplified Acoustic BBQ @ Roosevelt Island

Sunday (later): Hold Steady @ McCarren Park Pool

Sunday, May 25, 2008

On the Oregon Trail with My Morning Jacket


Since I've been too busy to blog, I figured I'd offer up an article I wrote for my day job (with a bonus shot of me and MMJ). Enjoy and please stop by my digital offices at www.relix.com and www.jambands.com

On the Oregon Trail with My Morning Jacket

Mike Greenhaus
2008-05-23

The first time they traveled to Manhattan, the members of My Morning Jacket crammed into a small passenger van and drove straight to Brownies, a tiny, hip, now defunct indie ‘n alt-country club located on what was then considered “the outpost” of Avenue A and 10th. At the time, New York felt a world away from the group’s native Louisville, KY, probably as different as the tag hippie seemed from hipster. “We drove in, threw our gear in the club, parked our van, played and left,” singer/frontman/guitarist Jim James remembers about his band’s first trip to New York. “We were in and out in two hours or something crazy.”

At the time, James was a long-haired 23-year-old college-dropout with a relatively new band that rarely played outside Kentucky, and he spent most of their free time recording the soft, somewhat lo-fi indie-country songs that comprise their first two albums: the consciously murky The Tennessee Fire and the dreamy, psychedelic At Dawn, as well as a series of fan EPs, like the holiday recording My Morning Jacket Does Xmas Fiasco Style and Chocolate and Ice, which contains a 23-minute version of the exploratory jam “Cobra.” Oddly enough, outside the southeast, the group’s biggest audience was in Europe, where the ever-eclectic summer festival circuit prepared fans for MMJ’s mixture of folk, rock, jam, indie and folk.

Of course, a lot has changed since My Morning Jacket’s maiden voyage to Manhattan, a long strange trip that has seen the group organically grow from Brownies to Mercury Lounge to the Bowery Ballroom to Irving Plaza to Webster Hall to Roseland Ballroom, and once again the members of MMJ find themselves back in the Big Apple, this time for a few press days intended to promote the group’s fifth studio album, the experimental curve ball Evil Urges. It’s already been a long week of press ‘grips and grins’ for the group when MMJ arrive at the Slipper Room, a swanky burlesque club a few blocks south of HiFi, the rock-and-roll bar that has since replaced Brownies. But, the quintet agreed to devote a few hours to various interviews with the Relix family (print, digital, podcast), including a surprise Q&A with friend and fellow performer Grace Potter (please read the June issue of Relix for more on that conversation).

As they walk into the bar, mostly dressed in sweatshirts and hoodies that simultaneously clash and mesh with the Slipper Room’s swanky red curtains, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that they’re exhausted from the press circuit. And, as when they walk onstage, the group band together for support as they make trudge through town and, finally, make themselves at home at one of the venue’s horseshoe-cushioned booths. Though James gets most of the attention and drummer Patrick Hallahan does most of the talking, they move as a unified band, something that hasn’t always been the case for this particular group of, as Potter would later say, “21st century Vikings.” While most groups start off as a band of equals and gradually produce a charismatic star, My Morning Jacket did the opposite. After scoring a record deal with the indie-label Darla, James assembled a band, taking the name My Morning Jacket from the initials embroidered on a discarded coat he purportedly found in the remains of a bar fire. The group’s sparse, early recordings focused around his reverb-drenched vocals and mostly acoustic guitar, but, over time, each member of the group gradually carved out their own three-dimensional personality and assumed a certain role: James, the mysterious frontman, Hallahan, a jovial, outspoken drummer who resembles Animal from the Muppets and Two-Tone Tommy, the shy, quiet bassist whose been with James since the beginning.

The group’s seen its share of turnover too, including James’ cousin/original guitarist Johnny Quaid and early drummers Danny Cash and J. Glenn, the latter of whom left the group to make waves in Hawaii. The arrival of Hallahan 2002 provided the group with the rock-and-roll battery it needed to move into larger clubs, while later-day members like Berklee-schooled keyboardist Bo Koster and guitarist Carl Broemel refashioned My Morning Jacket as a fully electric indie-rock outfit.

“I had an evil urge today,” Hallahan jokes as he takes a slip of the first drink on his band’s eventual $300 bar tab. “I wanted to kill our cab driver on the way over here.”

Almost a decade after My Morning Jacket’s first visit to New York, the five musicians have found themselves in New York more and more frequently and plan to return at least twice before the end of June: In May they’ll tape their first appearance on Saturday Night Live and, after touring Canada and making their fifth stop at Bonnaroo in six years, they’ll return to New York for an “evening with” performance at Radio City Music Hall---a grand celebration that sold out in only 22-minutes. While they remain mum about the details, rumors are already flying about which club---or arena---will host the group’s next New Year’s Eve celebration.

“I think we are doing New Year’s again this year and, if we do, it is going to be a sequel to the continual New Year’s saga that we started in 2006-2007,” James says. “So that will be part two of our epic Oregon trial saga.” “Only now we are all dead,” Hallahan interjects. “That’s’ right,” James continues. “We died and ascended to heaven on the stairway to heaven. Part two will start in heaven and continue onwards.”

“Oregon Trail was a great game, it really inspired me,” a reserved Two-Tone Tommy perks up to say dryly, his hands still tucked beneath his armpits. “I killed a few Oxen and lost a few children named things like Fart. You don’t really need them anyway.” “Poor little bugger has died of small pox,” James says, shaking what’s left of his curly hair. “We made up a recipe for malaria,” Koster says, jokingly referring to MMJ’s contribution to I Like Food, Food Tastes Good, a self-described “indie rock cookbook,” featuring contributions from the likes of Devendra Banhart and Death Cab for Cutie. “Sweet, sweet delicious malaria,” James says with a grin, chewing on the toothpick that remains fixed in his mouth throughout the night.

Indeed, while the members of My Morning Jacket have scored the cover of Spin, appeared in Cameron Crowe’s Elizabethtown and jammed with everyone from Eddie Vedder to the Boston Pops, they still joke like five old friends, finishing each other’s sentences and trying their hardest to steer the interview back to the topics any guys in their late-20s and early-30s would discuss over drinks: whiskey (bourbon), pizza (pepperoni) and the NCAA basketball tournament (go Kentucky, of course). When the conversation shifts to a two-night mock prom the group hosted in Athens, GA last spring, the quintet answers in rapid-fire succession, not unlike the verbal wordplay characteristic of Beastie Boys during the height of their MTV fame.

Did any of you attend your real prom?

James: That was our real prom. We even played “Wonderful Tonight.”

Hallahan: We’re not kidding…we did a little huddle before we went onstage and made a pact

Broemel: We all lost our virginity

Koster: And all puked

James: And one of us woke of up with a tattoo on his forehead

“These ideas usually start as conversations and kind of snowball,” Hallahan says, seamlessly shifting back into interview mode. “Yup, we try to be as stupid as possible,” James volleys without missing a beat. The members of My Morning Jacket are at an interesting stage in their career for sure, having gradually aged from cult heroes to critical darlings to, quite possibly when Evil Urges is released on June 10, crossover successes. James knows he’s a rock star for sure, he’s just not sure he wants to be…yet.

"We basically just say we are a rock band, but I don't really know what that means," Broemel says of seemingly every critic's quest to define My Morning Jacket's style. "I mean, if I am at the dentist's office and the dental assistant is like 'I like Kid Rock, would I like you?,' I'm like, 'well you may like us.'" And if she presses, I'm like, 'but we are a weird rock band,' so if she comes to see us, she isn't disappointed."

For a group that once hid beneath their long hair and a wall of reverb---to the point where the vocal effect often precluded James from speaking onstage---My Morning Jacket has grown surprisingly comfortable in the spotlight and James has become an increasingly open in his writing. In fact, as the group trimmed its hair, one could argue that his lyrics have become more personal and heartfelt than ever, addressing topics like longing ("Touch Me I'm Going to Scream (Part 1)"), politics ("I'm Amazed") and life on the road (“Smokin' from Shootin'”). And while My Morning Jacket may be the only band to truly hold dual citizenship on either side of the great Coachella/Bonnaroo divide, in certain ways, no band has come to symbolize both the spirit and sound of Bonnaroo more than My Morning Jacket. Since their first appearance in 2003, they’ve played almost every spot the festival has to offer short of headlining, from a Friday afternoon daytime showcase to a marquee late-night tent set to, this June, one of the festival’s signature all-night outdoor jam-sessions. It’s also somewhat fitting that at a time when every singer/songwriter sporting more than a 5 o’clock shadow has seemingly tailored their style to replicate the classic Jim James sound, My Morning Jacket has moved in the opposite direction, creating a dense, funky, psychedelic album that would fit more comfortably next to Flaming Lips or Prince than either At Dawn or It Still Moves.

If 2005’s breakthrough Z helped push My Morning Jacket to the forefront of the modern indie movement, than Evil Urges will likely push the boundaries of what is considered indie rock altogether. While early interviews suggested that My Morning Jacket was working on a gospel album, Evil Urges is stylistically all over the map, incorporating elements of the Prince (“I Could Never Take The Place Of Your Man”), Lionel Richie (“All Night Long”), AC/DC (“Highway To Hell”) and Eric Clapton (“Wonderful Tonight”) covers the group introduced into their repertoire before entering the studio. “I think it has some gospel influence in that, for me personally, gospel has always been for my soul,” James says about his most personal collection of songs. “I am trying to find my own personal Jesus, as Depeche Mode would say. It does my heart good to hear people sing about something that they believe in so strongly, even though I can’t personally believe in many things or anything. So I think in that sense [Evil Urges] is a gospel record.”

In many ways, Evil Urges is actually two very different albums, conceptually spit down the middle by, appropriately enough, the song “Two Halves.” For lack of a better term, the disc’s A-Side is the more experimental half, driven by studio gimmicks and Hallahan’s big, funky beats. The album’s B-Side is more traditional MMJ, filled with modern classic-rock moments and a few more gentle interludes. And while the album’s A-Side was clearly sequenced upfront for a reason, it’s the record’s B-Side that echoes through my head, especially the soft, haunting “Librarian,” a vintage MMJ moment that could fit on Neil Young’s Harvest were it not for the malapropism referencing “the interweb.”

“We kind of had fun with the sequencing,” James continues. “When you get the vinyl, you can kind of see it. It is going to be a double-disc vinyl with four sides. I think the record kind of flows more in four quadrants than two-halves, though there is a song on it called ‘Two Halves’ halfway through.”

“Not a mistake,” he says with an assured wink. “We started out with more songs than we knew we’d end up with, so we kind of whittled the songs away. In that way, the album kind of makes itself work out, because sometimes you might want a song to work and it just won’t. So we recorded 15 we decided that these were the ones that kind of worked together and then we labored over the sequence and tried to make it a journey. “

The recording of Evil Urges itself was also somewhat of a journey. After playing a handful of spring dates that included a marquee spot at Langerado and the above-mentioned pair of mock-prom gigs, My Morning Jacket disappeared into the mountains of Colorado to flesh out James’ latest batch of songs. “We did a month of messing around and spacing out and then brought it to New York City and hammered it away,” James says. Though the quintet emerged for the occasional Colorado or New York performance, with the likes of Bob Dylan or Feist, it was their longest break from the road since signing with ATO in 2003.

“We all have lots of freedom,” Broemel says of James’ songwriting approach. “We all kind of all try to be as selfless as possible. If someone has an idea that is better than another idea, we all try to go with it. So that is our modus operandi.”

After finishing their first round of the drinks, the quintet huddles around a small, wooden piano for a photo shoot, but can’t help messing around with the melody to one of Young’s best songs, “After the Goldrush.” Like 2005’s Z, Evil Urges finds the Kentucky-bred quintet masking its raw country-rock muscle with glitchy studio wizardry rather than acoustic guitars and reverb-drenched vocals; in fact, James has tweaked his voice to such an extent that he now employs two microphones onstage. But, from start to finish, those classic MMJ touches are still there, buried beneath a thick layer of conscious fuzz, where one gets the sense James always felt they belonged. “For thoughtless folks like me and J, who'd pay, but can't afford, the finer things in life,” he once mused, “So we heist them all...”

And while the members of My Morning Jacket are a far cry from the Grateful Dead or Phish stylistically, more than almost any of their peers, they embrace the jam-scene’s improv-ready road warrior edict and dedication to creating a unique live show. Over the years My Morning Jacket has made a point to turn almost each-and-every one of its festival sets into some sort of theatrical performance: In 2005, the group hosted a puppet show during their afternoon Bonnaroo set and the following year they played a late night, cover-heavy tent show that drew in guests like Andrew Bird. At ACL they dressed like beach bums, at High Sierra they invited Brad and Andrew Barr onstage for a magic trick and at Lollapalooza they were backed by the Chicago Youth Symphony. Most recently, at Coachella they opened for Roger Waters and invited longtime friend M. Ward to sit in on a version of “Off the Record” that stood out in stark contrast from the festival’s slicker indie-rock acts.

In many ways, they’ve also come through the jamband pipeline, balancing support spots for Pearl Jam with gigs with ATO with label-boss Dave Matthews, The Slip and the Benevento/Russo Duo, as well as at festivals like Langerado, Mountain Jam and High Sierra. They have a trippy light show and, particularly on slower numbers like “Golden,” James’ voice resembles Garica-ish unpolished, high and lonesome voice.

“I'd do ‘Candyman,’ there's something about that song that's so awesome,” James told Jambands.com in 2005, when asked what Grateful Dead song he’d cover on the tenth anniversary of Jerry Garcia’s passing. “I'm more a fan of the real structured Grateful Dead songs, the acoustic Grateful Dead songs. On ‘Candyman,’ it's just like all the harmonies and all the amazing guitar parts and the lyrics...the whole thing. I'd do that or ‘Brown Eyed Women." I'm not even that huge of a Dead fan, but there's just something about Garcia that was so sweet and so awesome. The first time I ever heard him was on pedal steel on ‘Teach Your Children’ — pedal steel, I think, is one of God's gifts to people. I can sit there and listen to that song over and over and over and it makes me want to have kids and get married and cry. Just the way he emoted was to me more important than any song that he wrote or anything in particular. It was just his force and I think that's why people loved him so much. There was just something about him that was insanely magical.”

“Playing Mountain Jam and Bonnaroo, we’ve found that the jamband community seems to be very musical and very accepting, so we are happy to play in front of anyone,” James says a bit later at the Slipper Room. “I think people put up silly names and divisions and these indie-rock verses jamband scenarios, but we don’t really pay attention.” “It’s like an old friend you run into each year,” Hallahan continues. “It is so peaceful and community driven.” James adds: “You play Bonnaroo and you are in the middle of nowhere on this magical musician fantasy thing, and then you play Lollapalooza and you are right in the middle of the city and go out and see all your friends at night, so there are benefits of both.”

“Every Bonnaroo is really fun,” Broemel says backstage at another MMJ show in Philadelphia. “For me, my favorite moment was probably my first time there, which was the band’s second in 2004. We played a few songs and then it started to pour. It was something unexpected that made the show fun for us. It was so harmonious with the rain. It just cooled everyone down because it was so hot, but the day had this nice breeze. We try to make it different each year. Bonnaroo is always special, so we try to go more extravagant.”

With great power comes great responsibility and, in addition to spearheading a new genre of shaggy hair rockers that includes groups like Band of Horses, The Whigs and Fleet Foxes, My Morning Jacket has helped place the likes of Dr. Dog, M. Ward and The Slip in front of their most attentive national audiences yet. In fact, Dr. Dog wasn't even a full band until James personally asked them to open a series of My Morning Jacket tourdates. “M. Ward, Conor Oberst and myself have done several tours together called the Monsters of Folk,” James reminisces. “We’d play during each other’s sets and do our own sets as well. And M. went out on tour with us a few years ago. We were his backing band, and he’d come out and play with is.”

“We love The Slip and we love watching them,” Broemel says. “They are an interesting band and hard to characterize. I can't speak highly enough of them. We caught part of their show at High Sierra once and were intrigued.” “A few friends of mine played them for me and then I checked them out in the rain at Mountain Jam,” James admits. “They mix so many different styles.” Indeed, in an era when every festival is determined to program their setlist like a three-dimensional iPod, My Morning Jacket has set the template for the modern, post-jam playlist.

“Part of the post-jam concept definitely rings true for sure…it makes touring exciting for us to change things up every night," Broemel finally says. "We play High Sierra and Mountain Jam and then Coachella. Sometimes we feel a little bit out of our element at those festivals. But as long as we are freaking people out then its OK."

Thursday, May 08, 2008

Me Have No Regrets...


I wrote the following for tonight's Jammys program

PHISH: AN APPRECIATION

Though they leave behind an impressive body of over a thousand carefully-annotated performances, a dozen studio albums and a web of carefully preserved digital shrines, it is still impossible to separate Phish's music from its cultural impact.

In many ways, they are both the first post-modern rock band and the internet age's first great success story; the first group to rub the avant-garde against mainstream, MTV culture with festival-size success while still reducing the meaning of life to the carefree, 1990s sentiment of "whatever you do, take care of your shoes." In an era of hard-rock testosterone and New Wave excess, the members of Phish emerged as the perennial everymen: four ordinary people known by their first names for their uncanny musical ability, personifying four tangible elements of post-Aquarius, suburban society.

While not the first rock band to embrace improvisational music, Phish turned the jam scene on its head with an original cocktail of rock, pop, jazz, bluegrass, reggae, funk and orchestral sounds that owed as much to Talking Heads and Frank Zappa as it did to Jerry Garcia and the Grateful Dead. In only 21 years, Phish challenged arena rock's rules, claimed cow-funk as their own and re-fused Brian Eno ambience with the indie-rock underground. Their studio work is equally varied: From the breezy statements of Junta and the dreamy concepts of Rift to the mature, rustic emotions of Billy

Breathes and the instrumental experimentations of The Siket Disc, Phish played by their own rules, setting the template for the modern festival, harnessing the power of the internet long before the blog and somehow turning a flying hotdog into an everlasting

cultural statement. Only a collegiate cycle since their curtain call, Phish's legacy is still being set...and we still have no regrets.

Mike Greenhaus, from somewhere south of Coventry


...and now to bed, I hope

Thursday, May 01, 2008

Two Sentance Thoughts

Before I jump headfirst into my Coachella recap, I figured I’d offer another edition of Two Sentence Thoughts…

Working Backwards…

2008-04-20-Green Apple Closing Party: Surprise Me Mr. Davis, The Low End @ Sullivan Hall, New York, NY

The only thing better than seeing The Slip is seeing The Slip with Nathan Moore as Surprise Me Mr. Davis. But, unfortunately, this show started way too late, on the second night of Passover no doubt, and I had to leave halfway through the show when the band took a not too conspicuous 4/20 set break

2008-04-20-Green Apple:

Vienna Teng, Vusi Mahlasela w/Annie Calhoun, Bacon Brothers, Big Head Todd and the Monsters, Ricky Skaggs & Kentucky Thunder @ Rumsey Playfield, New York, NY

The first of, hopefully, many afternoons I will spend seeing music in Central Park this summer. This show also answered the age old question of what does Rumsey Playfield look like without a layer of Astroturf (hint: not like a Green Apple)

2008-04-18-Green Apple: Tea Leaf Green featuring Steve Adams w/Aaron Redner (Hot Buttered Rum) @ Highline Ballroom, New York, NY

Like Umphrey’s McGee in 2005, Tea Leaf Green makes me want to be a better, or at least more dedicated, jamband fan. It was also cool to see my boy Steve Adams from ALO playing in front of the sold out crowd on guest bass .

2008-04-18-Green Apple: The Pnuma Trio, Jounce @ Blender Theater, New York, NY

Both Jounce and The Pnuma Trio are decidedly modern jambands, which means they improvise without really playing hippie-music. I wish I could have come back the following night to hear Jounce's choice version of "Marquee Moon."

2008-04-13-Under African Skies: Paul Simon with David Byrne, Ladysmith Black Mambazo,Vusi Mahlasela, Luciana Souza, Vanessa Jones and Tshidi Manye @ Brooklyn Academy of Music Opera House, Brooklyn, NY

Though the ticket stub read Paul Simon, this show was all about David Byrne, who stole the show with his energetic three-song performance. For his part Simon stayed in the shadows, acting more like a curator than the center of attention and somehow securing his indie-rock cred along the way.

2008-04-12-Hallucinigan Live, Shpongle @ Highline Ballroom, New York, NY

I’ll probably go deaf a few years earlier thanks to this show, which consisted of a three hour version of one of my favorite songs: Untz. Good times, if I could only remember them

2008-04-12-The Disco Biscuits @ Nokia Theater, New York, NY

2008-04-11-The Disco Biscuits, Shpongle @ Nokia Theater, New York, NY

These were two of the best Disco Biscuits shows I have seen in years. The new songs rocked, the old ones still sounded fresh and I even scored a "Little Betty Boop!"

2008-04-10-Man Man @ Bowery Ballroom, New York, NY

Before taking the stage Man Man looped a version of Bobby Mcferrin’s “Don't Worry, Be Happy” on repeat over the PA for 20 minutes which kind of set the tone for this evening of ironic art. Though I do find it ironic that of all the songs The Dead wrote, the freak folk hipsters choose to cover “drums ‘n space” on a nightly basis.

2008-04-10-Nate Company @ Rockwood Music Hall, New York, NY

My friend Phil from Skidmore plays in a few cool bands around the city, including this jazzy ensemble which features him on the upright bass. I hope he makes it big one day so I can reminisce about the time he played he 21st birthday part before it got shut down by the police on Behind the Music.

2008-04-10-Jason Collett @ Relix Magazine, New York, NY

2008-04-09-Jason Collett @ Mercury Lounge, New York, NY

Jason Collett is the only member of Broken Social Scene who sounds more like Ryan Adams than the Arcade Fire, which is why we love him here at Zenbu Media. After his Mercury show, I convinced him to come to come play and hang with us at Relix, where he spent an hour convincing us that Canada is way cooler than the U.S.

2008-04-08-Hot Chip @ Music Hall of Williamsburg, Brooklyn, NY

Jamband Outing of the week: At the start of their encore, Hot Chip promised to play "a three our hippie jam" for one of their roadies, who apparently used to be on Widespread Panic's crew. Take that Time Out New York.

2008-04-08-JVC Jazz Fest Announcement Party: Marco Benevento with John Ellis, Dave Dreiwtiz and friends @ Metrazur at Grand Central Terminal, New York, NY

By the time my sure to be overbearing wife makes me relocate from New York to the suburbs, I swear I will have seen Marco Benevento and/or Joe Russo at every New York venue known to man on land (too many to count), sea (Rocks Off) or air (just wait for my 30th birthday party).