In a perfect world, the Rival Sons would already be an instantly recognizable name among rock music fans here in their native United States. However, for reasons seemingly rather mysterious and unknown, the Long Beach, California quartet (who tour as a quintet, with the addition of a keyboardist), have earned the bulk of their substantially-sized success outside of their home country. Receiving high, near-the-top billing on festivals and stadium shows all across Europe and Canada for the past few years, Rival Sons, now in their eighth year of existence, finally appear poised to potentially achieving a well-deserved similar status here in America.
Even without a very large American fanbase, many critics here in the States have been aware of and given praise to Rival Sons since the start of their career back in 2008. Respectable media sources like the Huffington Post and Classic Rock Magazine have referred to the band as "America's next great rock and roll band" and "the band to watch," and those who are fortunate enough to already be American fans have given Rival Sons' live shows absolutely stellar online reviews; many stating that they are the best band (or one of the best) they have ever seen in concert.
Alongside better-known bands like Queens of the Stone Age, Wolfmother, and The Black Crowes, Rival Sons are primarily influenced by heavy, blues-steeped British groups from the 1970's like Cream, Bad Company, Deep Purple and Led Zeppelin (Jimmy Page is a huge fan of the band). Their sonic style also has enough meaty, soulful swagger to have rightfully earned Rival Sons comparisons to bands such as the Cult, and the Doors, and Aerosmith (with whom the band toured in 2014).
Rival Sons are currently supporting their recently (June) released fifth album entitled Hollow Bones (Earache) on a monster-sized, 52-date global tour spanning seven months. This tour contains the most U.S. dates of any of their previous world tours, and their Pageant appearance will be only the second time that the band has ever graced a St. Louis stage. Drummer Michael Miley has said that the band's firmly committed to giving 110% to each and every audience they play for. If any of the several high-quality live Rival Sons performances available online are any indication, that statement should be proven true time and time again throughout this tour.
Anarchist and leftist punks have long sought to raise awareness about various forms of oppression and exploitation by offering first-person caricatures of the enemy, whether corporate bosses, suburban drones, college preppies, skinheads, or the cult of dumb. It was in this tradition of critique that Ben Wallers started the Country Teasers in mid-'90s Scotland and began releasing albums that prod listeners by holding a mirror up to bigotry of all kinds, especially bigotry that's been culturally sanctioned because of positions of privilege, i.e. the correlation between climate change denial and being a wealthy white male. Often taunting listeners (or readers in this case) to hold on to such positions of privilege in the face of their underlying violence, Wallers set the Country Teasers in the vein of the Dead Kennedys and Butthole Surfers through albums that both take aim at and inspiration from American culture. (The Teasers second album Satan is Real Again, for example, is a nod to the 1959 Louvin Brothers album in which the country duo truly seemed to want their listeners to feel the flames of hell licking at their heels.) From the ashes of the Teasers, Wallers has now emerged as The Rebel, having continued to release albums that take on various forms of patriarchy, cultural exceptionalism, and the self-destructive elements of contemporary humankind. He plays at Off-Broadway, Thursday, August 18 with Spray Paint, Old Scratch's Burn Pile, and DemonLover. In advance of the show, he answered some questions over email about Nashville, William S. Burroughs, satire, modern appliances, Star Wars, as well as some of the heavier facts of contemporary American politics.
Q: I see a lot of similarities between your lyricism in songs like "Anytime, Cowboy" and the satirical style of a young Randy Newman. Who are some satirists that have influenced your voice, and can satire hold up as a weapon against the growing threat of fascism?
BW: Satire ought really to get stronger and funnier as things get worse in the Non-Funny world (Syria; Ukraine; Congo) but I'm too out of touch to really say. Oh, except comedian Stewart Lee, he's keeping it up over here in England. Lenny Bruce, William Burroughs, Jonathan Swift, viz. See my take on humour is that unless it's attacking something evil or referring to something utterly bleak, I don't really find it all that funny. Although my niece told me this knock knock joke and it's adooooooooorable: "Knock knock." Who's there? "Butcher." Butcher who? "Butcher lil' arms aroun' me!"
Q: Speaking of, would you like to see the grave of William Burroughs while you're in St. Louis?
BW: Oh god I would LOVE that! I just read Barry Miles's recent Life of Burroughs and it was huge and unputdownable. I totally fell in love with him all over again and this time properly, accepting him also as a human, not just a godly writer. So, yes please.
Q: In a previous interview you said that what country music is like an allegory for American culture going off the deep end...
BW: I must have been high when I said that; or else my neurons got tangled up with the wires that my fingers dangle from in my mouth. I probably just meant "Off a cliff, into the deep end." Really deep, where your feet can't touch the bottom and you panic and ask the guy on the side to help you by maybe passing you the pole and the guy says, "Wait a minute buddy: where did you say you were from?" And you say, "Oh I... I don't think I did say! In fact in all this excitement I can't remember!" So you look down and see your face in the water, and suddenly you remember. That guy on the side is Donald Trump, your new president. You voted for him, but he doesn't pass you the pole. You drown. On the bottom of the pool are a thousand million rotting undead corpses. That's America.
Q: Do you think Tammy Wynette was murdered and, if so, what parallels does the cover-up of her death have with the decline of Nashville?
BW: Nashville IS Decline! I mean what drew me to Nashville's country music was the sense of decaying White culture. The last breath of a threatened, paranoid empire: WHITEY. And Tammy I loved because she sounded like she was trapped, like all our sisters are. Trapped under a man's superior muscle strength. (I am confident that Patriarchy will be overthrown, btw; it's happening).
Q: Is it true the Jon Wayne LP Texas Funeral had an influence on the Country Teasers? And how did it feel to record an album of your own in Texas, were you able to draw from the bottomless well of Texas country?
BW: Yes, I love Jon Wayne and so does the whole band. Monty Buckles sorted it out in 2006 that we supported them in LA and it was really something, like a dream really, i don't think it's even sunk in yet! He was playing a crudely spray-painted vox Phantom... I'm not sure how much influence he had on my Schtick, because I didn't hear about him until we were playing a gig in Edinburgh and this big lad comes up - this must have been 1994 -- and says "You must be fans of Jon Wayne" and I was all like "Wha...? " so he gave me a tape and i couldn't believe it. But thereafter I think the main thing was that David Vaught's production was like totally wow. So maybe it opened us up or something? Not sure.
Q: If you were a domestic appliance what would it be?
BW: I'd be an old typewriter. I dislike the white goods you have in your bourgeois kitchens. Fridges, washing machines and PARTICULARLY dishwashers. Never let me see you putting tea-spoons in a dishwasher please! In fact let's get that thing in the car right now and drive to the Dump ready! Fucking dishwashers! Breeders of deadly virus! Symbol and embodiment of fucked-up, dying, self-hating, hurrying Whitey culture! Push them over the fucking cliff! Down, down, down! Crash!
Q: What is the wackiest "instrument" you have used on a track (i.e. an oven for percussion, a slinky for texture, etc., etc.)?
BW: I used a slinky to make star wars laser gun noises and reverb; believe it or not the sound of hair, skin & bone rubbing against the wooden edge of a desk is the only thing I can think of sounds-unusual-wise; I like to use lots of different little keyboards; musical boxes; hmmm... Mind's gone blank.
Q: Is it true the Jon Wayne LP 'Texas Funeral' had an influence on the Country Teasers? And how did it feel to record an album of your own in Texas [which?], were you able to draw from the bottomless well of Texas country?
BW: Yes, I love Jon Wayne and so does the whole band. Monty Buckles sorted it out in 2006 that we supported them in LA and it was really something, like a dream really, I don't think it's even sunk in yet! He was playing a crudely spray-painted vox Phantom... I'm not sure how much influence he had on my Schtick, because I didn't hear about him until we were playing a gig in Edinburgh and this big lad comes up -- this must have been 1994 -- and says "You must be fans of Jon Wayne" and I was all like "Wha...?" so he gave me a tape and I couldn't believe it. But thereafter I think the main thing was that David Vaught's production was like totally wow. So maybe it opened us up or something? Not sure.
Q: What is your animal totem?
BW: I never used to like cats, despite my hero Burroughs' addiction to them, until we got a cat ourselves, little Tammy, who had run away from a cattery in Somerset as a kitten. Now I love cats. It's great being on the internet all day watching videos of cats. Omg they're HILARIOUS lol? :))))) I love Tammy, she is on my lap as we speak. Other animals I dig are sharks, spiders, centipedes, cockroaches, woodlice, ants. Dogs are a fucking bore, yawn yawn yawn (sorry, no offence meant). I really like sharks, did I mention that? Terrified that's how I'm gonna go. Aaarrrrrgggggh! First human shark-attack death in British waters, that'll be me. Off the Cornish coast. Still, I've had a good innings.
Q: In the latest Star Wars film what was Luke Skywalker doing on that island, how did he even get there? Do you have a new hope for the new Star Wars Films?
BW: I know, what the Fuck, Ireland?! The Jedi started in Ireland, on EARTH of all planets?! Wild! I'm not a good person to ask about Star Wars because i blindly follow it wholesale like a zombie (except the crap 3 from the 90s obvs). I totally, totally, TOTALLY loved The Force Awakens when it came out and went to see it -- in secret -- 4 times, or maybe 5, I lost count. Not 6 though. Cried a lot; different cinemas produced different emotions, all good; felt that viewing 2 was much better than viewing 1; loved it when Han shouts "Ben!" of course; think we should all shout "Ben!" whenever wotsisname the actor from Girls who played Kylo Ren appears in a trailer before a film at the cinema; "BEN!" Ha ha ha! That'd be hilARIOus!!!! So you know I got the dvd and I watch it a lot, mainly to block out the misery of my home life, but I turn the sound off now because the script is SO BAD and the plot so fragile. But I live in the Force and its ways! So I am DEFINITELY 100% confident that the next one will be even better.
Q: Who would play Ben Wallers in the made for TV biopic?
BW: Ryan Gosling would play me; I don't really LIKE him per se, I just think we are very much alike, he and I. Similar ages and so forth. Outlook.
Q: Wot wud U do with a million pounds?
BW: With a million pounds I would buy a nice studio set up somewhere I could play drums again. I'd get someone to build me a Fostex X-30 four track which wouldn't break down. I'd retire from my job for a year and try to knock out the really great album I think might be in there somewhere under all the frustration. Also I'd get like 1,000 Reese's cups, I mean 3,000, because it'd be 1,000 packs of 3.
Q: According to a 1983 interview in Smash Hits, Simon Le Bon from Duran Duran was once electrocuted while swimming. If he had died, how would your career have been different?
BW: I guess Simon's lyrics and delivery, which are unique, would have left a big hole in frontman-ship; could there have been a Morrissey for instance, without Simon Le Bon going before and lighting the way? If anyone can get hold of "Blue Silver," the documentary of their USA tour around the time of Seven and the Ragged Tiger, I'll give you a collectible badge and a used plectrum if I can spare it.
Q: In the same interview, John Taylor of Duran Duran said, "Our fans don't believe pop stars have bowels." What do you think about celebrity culture and is it wielded as a tool for oppression? Furthermore, do you think John Taylor from Duran Duran had bowels?
BW: Obviously Duran Duran were übermenschen in ways we teens would never need to understand. Things like going to the bathroom, shagging, getting angry with each were all totally irrelevant. It's all music! You can't see music! And yes, the capitalist system uses it to make money and like patriarchy I feel its days are numbered. Revolution will come and the next thing will take over until humans destroy themselves and the Earth can carry on with the insects and so forth. Who gives a shit!
KDHX's team of Volunteer Photographers had a busy month in July. With a flood of concerts and festivals hitting the region, our team scattered far and wide to cover a variety of events for your viewing pleasure.
Photos by Bruce Bramoweth, Jack Adams, Dustin Winter, Jason Cluts, Monica Mileur, Tim Farmer, Colin Suchland, Cory Miller, and Nora Jehle.
Fair St. Louis 7/4/16
by Bruce Bramoweth
Femi Kuti & The Positive Force
Slide the City
The English Beat
Heart and Cheap Trick
The Cactus Blossoms
Goo Goo Dolls
Van's Warped Tour 2016
VibesSTL: The Grand Arts Event
Temporal Cities 2nd Annual Blanket Fort Festival
Growing up in Bhutan, guitarist Tashi Dorji absorbed any and all music available. With limited access to Western music or media, his musical education came in the form of bootleg classic rock and hair-metal cassettes from India. Upon moving to Asheville, North Carolina as a foreign exchange student, Dorji discovered local DIY punk rock. Punk's immediacy and disregard for technical concerns put the possibility of performing squarely in focus. During this same period, Dorji encountered the music of John Zorn's Naked City, piquing an interest in free jazz and improvisation. This budding interest cemented after a subsequent move to Portland, Maine, where attending free improv shows at outsider hot spot Strange Maine inspired Dorji to make his debut as a performer. Over the last seven years, Dorji has recorded a myriad of solo tapes and LPs for various experimental-minded imprints, including this year's LP Expecting, a collaboration with Shane Parish of Ahleuchatistas.
Dorji's improvisations capture the sound of a guitarist possessing the technical chops of the metal he adored in his adolescence, filtered through the amorphous realm of the "out" music he later discovered. The prevalence of non-western tonalities and tunings displays the subliminal influence of Bhutan's monastic music in the development of Dorji's musical language. While Derek Bailey is a common comparison (and indeed an inspiration), Dorji's music never relies solely on the aurally obtuse. Instead, hints of melody and guttural noise blur together as waves of haunting lyrical lines endlessly tumble over atonal textures.
I had the pleasure of speaking with Tashi Dorji in advance of his performance at KDHX's Magnolia Cafe on Tuesday, August 9. We discussed his musical upbringing, formative experiences with punk and free jazz, and his many upcoming collaborative projects.
AC: When most guitarists, or instrumentalists of any kind, first learn their instrument, they don't instantly jump into extended techniques or experimenting with atonal textures. What kind of music were you hoping to learn when you first started playing, how old were you when you first started playing, and when was the first time that these more experimental sounds or techniques first clicked for you, either as a listener or a player?
TD: When I first started playing guitar I'm from Bhutan, I grew up there, my family lives there I think it was middle school, probably around fourteen. I learned a few chords, I saw some friends and other kids playing music. A few people played guitar around. I was fascinated so I started hanging out and learning some chords and some songs and finally bought a nylon string guitar from this Swiss ex-pat who was our neighbor. I think I just wanted to learn songs. The first I learned was "Heart of Gold" by Neil Young or the Doors' "Roadhouse Blues" or something like that. I just wanted to learn. After that I just played whatever I could from whatever I could get ahold of in Bhutan.
AC: So basically just learning whatever was available?
TD: Yeah, whatever we thought was cool and we could get our hands on. Classic rock, mostly metal. Any kind of metal, from Metallica to hair metal [laughs].
AC: Was that the first guitar-based music that you were listening to?
TD: Well, we didn't have CD players. We didn't have TV, not because we couldn't afford it or anything like that, but because most people didn't have TVs back then. My parents ended up getting television and a VHS in 1996 or '97, but that was later. So visually and aurally, my access to music was very limited. A lot of bootleg cassettes. The ones we got had funny titles from India. "Soft Rock Collection" would be Tesla and Europe and Warrant.
AC: On the soft rock collection?
TD: Soft rock, yeah [laughs]. "Easy Listening Rock" or something. I kind of learned anything that kids were playing or knew how to play, classic rock, metal, hair metal. The Eagles were very popular back then, so I heard a lot of "Hotel California." I got into Nirvana when they came out and I think that changed the way I was playing. Bleach was angrier, dirtier, darker. I thought it was kind of wild music compared to the glamor and machismo of the kind of rock 'n' roll I'd been listening to with long solos and lyrics that were less strange and complex.
AC: It feels more accessible in terms of being able to play than something like hair metal.
TD: Yeah [laughs]. No crazy solos running up and down arpeggios.
AC: Was there any music outside of just what was available that you were seeking out or that you were wishing to hear at this time when you were just starting?
TD: I just didn't know anything but what people had. There was a lot of exchanging cassettes. It was pretty cool in a way. Just trading cassettes, mix tapes. A lot of the people I knew were playing were also playing older rock 'n' roll. The Beatles were huge. I remember Elvis and Chuck Berry were really big. I remember learning a lot of Chuck Berry licks and a lot of Beatles when I first started playing also the Doors. The Doors were super popular.
AC: Were your parents into music? Did they play music in the house?
TD: Yeah, my cousin is actually a really famous Bhutanese folk singer and my mom is a storyteller and traditional flutist. My dad was a really good singer. So it was kind of around. My mom's father was a very important monk, a teacher. I think my mom says I got it from him. He was a lute player and developed a very influential style of traditional Bhutanese music.
Monastic music was very prevalent where I grew up. I'm sure that those tones and notes have been involuntarily internalized in a way. Monastic music happens pretty much everywhere. People have rituals at their houses and ceremonies all the time. The sounds of monks playing big horns and hand drums and cymbals. I didn't think of it musically until one day I remember I was listening to Metallica, I think ...And Justice For All, and my mom came in my room and said, "Why are you listening to this? You should just go monastery. They play the same thing." I still remember that so clearly.
AC: Did you ever directly play traditional music or was that just more around you?
TD: No, I never did. That's a very different realm. You have to study under a specific teacher as a monk. A "layman" will not just play monastic music. You have to know the scriptures and the rituals and perform them according to that discipline. But there is traditional folk music, ballads and lute, but to me it's always been the music of my ancestral past and I've never consciously brought it into my playing.
AC: Was guitar your first instrument?
TD: Yeah, the one and only. When I came to the U.S. I learned how to play old time banjo and fiddle. I also learned how to play a little bit of saxophone, but I'm self-taught.
AC: Talking about limitations in terms of what music was available in Bhutan, upon moving to the U.S. and having greater access to finding out about music and almost having everything at your fingertips, what were the first artists, albums or music in general that you sought out?
TD: I think the first thing that blew my mind was hearing punk music. I went to a small college here. I became friends with some of the kids. I was really into metal and just shredding. My freshman year I would sit on the porch and play guitar. Kids were like, "Oh, you should hang out with this punk kid, he's an amazing guitar player and drummer." So I guess I started hanging out with all these punk kids. They had band practices in their room and they had all these 7-inches of local bands from Richmond. Punk rock was the first platform that opened me up to the world of underground music and DIY. Kids started taking me to shows in town in Asheville. I didn't know what to think. It was crazy: a bunch of grumpy looking kids with leather jackets drinking beer and slamming and dancing. I was an international student too, so I didn't really get it all at first. I remember sticking out being all nicely dressed and at a punk show.
AC: So this was something completely new.
TD: Yeah, so new. I mean, sound-wise I could hear it. I listened to Metallica and Judas Priest and Black Sabbath, but to hear it in a way that was all sloppy and DIY, no solos, just really fast power chords. "Whoa!" That was my initial reaction.
AC: Did you play in any punk bands?
TD: I did. I wasn't seriously in any bands for very long. I got into more "technical" stuff in one band that lasted a year or something. We just played at the college and maybe a couple of shows. It was super layered and arranged stuff. It was fun. It was around the time that I first heard John Zorn. I heard Dillinger Escape Plan and Mr. Bungle. "How do they play like that? I want to play like that!" But also, I was hearing a lot of crust bands like His Hero Is Gone and Tragedy and stuff like that.
AC: What was your first exposure to experimental music or things similar to what you're doing now? Was that all in the states?
TD: Yeah, it was all here in Asheville. One of my very close friends from college, Patrick, he listened to punk stuff back when he was in middle school, so he was very advanced as far as "eclectic" music. I clearly remember he had a bunch of Tzadik CDs that he had brought: Naked City, Masada, one collection that was "new Japanese noise." That was the first time I had heard anything crazy like that. But I had heard bands like Godspeed You! Black Emperor and A Silver Mt. Zion, bands that were more experimental, but not anything that was radical like Naked City. I think that Naked City was almost my first introduction to free jazz and everything else. That opened me up to listen to a lot of free jazz. Hearing Zorn's band play and knowing that they were influenced by Ornette Coleman and players like that just opened me up. I had wanted to play crazy improvised stuff, but I just wasn't sure what it all meant. There was immediacy and urgency in all these new sound but it took me a while before I started playing my own music. I think I was overwhelmed. I was in a band here and there, just a small project, where we would try things like that, but I didn't understand why or what the intentions and duration of this music meant. It took a while. It wasn't until 2006 or 2007 when I moved to Maine. There's a small record store/bookstore/venue called Strange Maine. It's right downtown in Portland, Maine. When I was in Maine I didn't know anybody, so I used to go there and check out free shows. They had an amazing array of avant-garde, outsider music. I was listening to a lot of Marc Ribot around that time. What changed everything was when I heard Derek Bailey's Standards album. I found that at a record store in a sales bin. It was a five dollar CD. I had heard of his name from somebody who had told me that I should listen to that if I was interested in free jazz guitar players. Listening to Bailey literally changed everything. Just one single record.
AC: That's really cool. That's a really good entry point to Derek Bailey. It's probably his most "lyrical" album if you could say that?
TD: Yeah, it is. A lot of his older stuff is completely radical. It is not easy to digest. "What is going on?!" I heard Standards and then Ballads after that. "Wow, what is this guy doing?"
AC: What bridged the gap from finally starting to improvise to playing in public? And what made you want to improvise solo when you started?
TD: Because I saw some of these people play at that small venue, all of these guitar players. Off and on, I would see them perform. I remember after I got that Derek Bailey album I looked him up online and watched a bunch of live performances. I thought, "Wow, this is so cool. It's possible to do a completely singular style of music and improvise it without any composition." I had always enjoyed playing without any structure. There was another influence actually, way before this. In Bhutan, I heard Ry Cooder and Vishwa Mohan Bhatt's album A Meeting By the River. It's incredibly beautiful. It's Indian modified sitar, like a drone guitar. Vishwa Mohan Bhatt is an important teacher and he made this modified guitar and did this hour long improvised session with Ry Cooder. This guy who used to work at a radio station in Bhutan, he was very progressive minded as far as music goes, kind of a wild man, he gave me a cassette of this album and told me, "These guys are making things up and playing together." They're playing in an opening tuning. I remember tuning my guitar into an opening tuning and figuring out later that I could just play in this weird modal guitar style. That really helped me be okay with doing that stuff. It was such a singular style sitar-style guitar and guitar but there just wasn't really a chance for me to find someone to play stuff like that with yet.
AC: How does your approach or your headspace differ between playing solo and improvising in a group setting?
TD: I have a band with my friend Thom Nguyen called Manas. We do improvised guitar and drums. I'm mostly playing off him and we're both playing off each other and it's more aggressive. I really want to play improvised music so I can get closer to what those sax players like Albert Ayler played and feel that sense of cathartic achievement of beautiful noise and rhythm and melody. That's the difference. With solo, it's pretty singular and I have very little room to play off of someone else. With a duo setting it's more rhythmic. That's the most prominent signifier: it gets really rhythmic and it's louder.
AC: Do you mostly collaborate with drummers?
TD: So far, yes. I started playing with the Danish saxophone player Mette Rasmussen who plays with Chris Corsano a lot. I played with her in Stockholm last year. I had never played with a sax player before. She's pretty amazing. We were in Stockholm around the same time. I was touring with Godspeed You! Black Emperor and my tour ended there with them. She was there too and she was playing a festival. We just met up and played a smaller show somewhere in Stockholm. We met up again and we made a plan to record and tour Canada because she can come to Canada easily. We played last month at a festival in Montreal as a duo. I was also touring with my friend Tyler Damon, a percussionist. We have an LP coming out in a month or so on Family Vineyard. It's a great label. We were doing a duo tour from here to Canada and when we met up with Bette we did a duo show at the festival and then we did a trio. That was the first time I'd played in a trio in a more free improvised setting. I've played mostly with percussionists. I played a show with Greg Fox and Shahzad Ismaily. He was playing the bass. That was very different. He was one of the most lyrical bass players I'd ever met. I would have to be very restrained to hear him do all of this musical stuff. "Okay, I can't just noise over that." [laughs]
AC: I wanted to talk to you about recording. When you're recording solo, are you thinking in terms of the record as a whole or are you thinking of just making a document of each improvisation and going from there? How do you decide which improvisations to use when you listen back to everything?
TD: I think that really depends on where I'm recording and what kind of context that I'm doing it in. Sometimes I have an idea for the record as a whole but it always changes once you are recording. I just recorded for VDSQ for that new LP that came out [VDSQ Solo Acoustic Vol. 13]. It was just one session that was an hour. I had a lot of ideas, but I wanted to do a record where I have a lot of melodic moments and really short pieces. I think that was the form that I went in with, and it came out exactly as I had expected in a way.
When I play it's always different. It does its own thing. When I improvise and it's in a longer form I can cut it off and make it into songs. Most of the time I record [a piece] as a track. In practice, there's really no restriction. I just go in and do it and that's it.
AC: So really just dependent on how much time you have.
TD: How much time or how much money I have [laughs]. "Okay, I'll go in for an hour and then I'm out." So I get it done [laughs].
AC: What releases and collaborations do you planned for the future?
TD: I recorded with Mette Rasmussen. We have tons of recordings and once we get everything edited I'm sure it'll be out on LP or some form and some label will hopefully put it out. I have a split coming out on this label called Unrock out of Krefeld, Germany. I went to Krefeld and recorded live and it's going to be a split with a violinist, a very prolific musician named Eyvind Kang. He's on everyone's record. He plays with Sunn O))), John Zorn, Masada, and he plays a lot with Bill Frisell. He's a heavy hitter. I'm really shocked that they even asked me to play with him. It's going to be a 7-inch and a full LP split. I have a duo record with Tyler Damon coming out on Family Vineyard sometime. I'm recording with this artist from the UK. She's American. Her name is Ashley Paul. She's a sax player and a guitar player and she sings. She's pretty incredible. We're going to record sometime soon for a couple of days. Also, I might record with this percussionist, Ben Bennett. He has a very different style. He doesn't use a full kit. He only uses a snare drum and a lot of other things, like a hand drum. It's very outsider, very "out" stuff. I plan to record with Greg Fox sometime soon, hopefully when I get time. There are many. I talked to Chris Corsano about playing with him. A lot of drummers. Hopefully it will change once things move, shift. I also recorded with Michael Zerang and C Spencer Yeh. We recorded a year ago in Baltimore. We played the same festival and recorded. I'm sure once we get it all done, it will be out on LP or some form.
AC: So there's a lot of stuff to look forward to.
TD: There's a lot of stuff, yeah. I'm probably going to put less solo LPs and focus on more collaborative stuff.
AC: From when you first started playing to now, how have you seen your playing evolve and where do you think you're going?
TD: That's a hard question. When I first started, I was confident. I think that's an important factor in playing improvisational music and the duration aspects of it, how long you can play, that kind of stuff. I've realized recently that I can play longer, improvise longer without feeling like I should stop or that I'm sounding bad. The gaze of the audience is not hindering me or keeping me from being able to use my full potentiality in creating something that people would like or that is going to be "worth the time." I think that's something that has become more evolved. Playing wise, I'm starting to navigate the guitar more aggressively and try to figure out different sounds. Playing with a sax player opens up this whole other way of playing, a more radical approach to improvising. I think I've been starting to play more "punk." It's going into this cyclical thing where I'm going back to what I first heard and I'm trying to incorporate that into everything I do.
KDHX listeners have a parochial stake in the revulsion noted by that eternally youthful rock critic, Lester Bangs, in his review of a 1971 performance by A&M recording artists, The Carpenters: Something about the band and audience both at this just gave me the creeps. Mom and Dad come and learn to Dig the Kids Music. Bangs shrill something, which might be the uncanniness of commercialism, seems to stand his hair on end. Those revulsed at predigested helpings of commercial music may have a hard time liking Eric Weisbards book on radio formats, Top 40 Democracy: The Rival Mainstreams of American Culture (University of Chicago Press, 2014), and not just for its message. A scrupulously narrative presenter of research, Weisbard does not much weigh the importance of the loads and loads of reading hes done. Just so, the books readers will mostly be scholars. That said, by turning his scholarship toward narrative, Weisbard makes an argument free-form radio listeners will find important, even if they are likely to be put off by the idea that theres anything democratic about parents turning around and persuading the Kids to dig whats on the pop charts.
To begin with the academicism Top 40 Democracy revises: the rockist assumption, represented by Bangs, holds that mainstream radio, because it homogenizes taste, is undemocratic. Nonsense, says Weisbard, no more so than a parent homogenizes their childs tastes. Rockists may hold onto the idea of an outside to mainstream radio formatting, but for Weisbard, the marketing concept of an alternative or independent radio station overlooks how "the rockist rejection of established format categories accrued resale value because its putative anti-materialism asserted privilege. In other words, Weisbard former college radio DJ turned American Studies scholar joins a number of recent poptimist intellectuals, including Carl Wilson, John Seabrook, Bob Stanley, by insisting on the social salience of "contemporary hit radio," a.k.a. CHR or pop radio. Weisbards argument, encompassing not just radio station programming, but record label marketing, as well as the actual careers of the Isley Brothers, Dolly Parton and Elton John, is that the rivalry among mainstream formats Top 40, urban contemporary, country, oldies, classic rock, and so on may come from an effort to understand, and market to, a listenership-edge rooted in the values of community radio. Of course, a simpler way to put this and one poptimists like Weisbard are usually loathe to accept is that rock discourse (the ideological apparatus of rockist assumptions) has influenced the music industry by re-orientating it to an anti-mainstream "outside," even if the purpose of that reorientation is commercialization. The poptimist conceit, by contrast, contends that mainstream radio programmers do actually speak on behalf of radio listeners, rather than perpetuate industry interests.
Bob Stanley, keyboardist-composer for the English synth-pop band, Saint Etienne, in his history of pop, Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! (2013), argues for a dialectical tilt back and forth between the aesthetic apotheosis of "the transatlantic number one and all of the recordings done by all the other little fishes. Stanleys idea is that the little fishes school themselves in genre while the actual chart-topper rises above a genre's inevitable decline. Given Top 40s present dominance over its rival mainstreams (country, R&B, adult alternative, Latin, etc.) it will surprise no one that the rockist-turned-poptimist Weisbard assiduously evades genre in order to view the mainstream's outside as cultural history itself, rather than any counter-cultural resistance, rockist or otherwise. Freeform radio, Weisbard notes, usurped MOR, or "middle of the road" programming, at just that late '60s moment when MOR started getting marketed at stations emerging from easy listening formats in order to capture the ears of a new, affluent demographic tuned to the sounds of a cool exoticism.
Weisbards most impressively researched chapters (the book was his Berkeley dissertation) consist of a chapter on WMMS, a Cleveland classic rock station that emerged out of MOR just as our own KSHE-95 did and another devoted to A&M Records, a label whose profit derived from the MOR format's ability to capitalize on the popularization of otherwise genre-oriented music. A&Ms co-owner, none other than Herb Alpert, for example, took "Whipped Cream, originally an Allen Toussaint jump piano boogie (released as a single by The Stokes in 1965 on the New Orleans label Alon), hooked it up with trumpet runs, Carol Kaye and Hal Blaines rhythm lines, and put a sombrero on it. Herb Alpert and His Tijuana Brass got Whipped Cream to #68 on Billboard's all-genre Hot 100 singles chart and #13 on the Middle-Road Singles chart (that very year rechristened Pop-Standard
It was at some point after Monterey that St. Louis KSHE turned from easy listening to freeform radio, the format we now associate with KDHX. If we follow the history that Weisbard provides, the earliest use of the term is in a memo written by Jerry Moss (the M in A&M) to his staff sometime in 1970. Weisbards claim, not entirely persuasive to me, is that the MOR format that inspired Whipped Cream & Other Delights was never intended for Southern Illinois intellectuals working for McDonald-Douglass. MOR, what we now call adult contemporary or AC, was designed for the woman who, as one trade magazine editor told Weisbard, graduates up from Glamour to More, the now defunct magazine that proclaimed itself for women of style and substance. As the editor put it, A female is expected to squeal for Top 40, recuperate from her first job listening to Hot AC, then turn to MOR/AC when kids and mortgage have left her only open to musical comfort food. This sounds a little patronizing to Weisbard, but he develops its gist, To listen as a working woman to music whose mood gets your head right: these strategic acts of empathy and self-regulation made pops impact nearly universal. And that, in short, is Weisbards plea for a formats democratic function. After television, Herb Alpert had predicted, the medium had shifted to format radio, meaning the continual sound targeting some listeners, rather than varied programming targeting all. No one ever stroked Ozzy Osbourne for his strategic acts of self-regulation, so when Alpert describes the MOR marketing strategy of a pop sound, the poptimist revision requires that we give up our rockist conclusion that such middle-of-the-road taste indicates some kind of false consciousness on the listener's part.
For Weisbard, the Cleveland experience with WMMS shows that the freeform radios anti-format was just a transitional phase that emerged from counter-cultural anti-materialism, but as many even then were pointing out, the anti-commercial insistence [of freeform] concealed far less progressive tendencies, including a severing of rock from contemporary black-music making and female audiences. The album-oriented rock or AOR format (thats what became of KSHE) rejected an A&M group like the Carpenters cynically despite the counterculture bona fides of a song like Superstar, redeveloped by Delaney & Bonnie around the time Alpert would have been scouting both groups and, in Weisbard's view, shortsightedly, given Karen Carpenters appeal among gay listenerships. Weisbards point is that format radio brings whats going on in rival demographics to the ears of less intractably rockist listeners. Three years (1972-1975) marks the period separating the emergence, in all his camp flamboyance, of Elton John at the top of the U.S. charts, and rock institution-maker Jon Landaus glib remark: Is Elton John something more than a great entertainer? Im not sure. Weisbard retorts: The singer threatened because to appeal across demographic lines he resisted strong signifiers of genre and counterculture. CHR or Top 40 radio continues in its primary warrant of genre-resistance and universal reach. In the meantime, KDHX and stations like it persist in a genre-connoisseurship that may still mark the anti-materialism of the freeform's anti-commercial format. Could a music lover live without one or the other? I won't try to answer, but what I do know is this: the dominance of CHR means that many radio listeners may go a lifetime without having a chance to choose between them.