Album Producer North Texas appears to be the latest Happy Hour of Talent luring thirsty A&R reps from major labels all over America. But for every CD or demo that drew the attention of some A&R schlub, there had to be a producer behind the scenes to get the sound…
Giving up the funk On his last album, George Clinton asked you to smell his finger, truly spoken like a man who’s had his thumb up his ass for a while now. It has been a long time since Clinton was the Funkmaster General: His heyday stretches from 1970 (with…
They got the beat The Fugees’ set at the South by Southwest music conference in Austin last month was one of the more anticipated gigs of the weekend–with good reason, too, not just the result of undeserved hype that follows every band into Austin in March like bad body odor…
Rhymes with “Brit” Hampden-Sydney Circus Bad Haskells Carpe Diem Records Apparently, the Good Haskells weren’t available, so Carpe Diem Records–the local label usually known for quality, home to Cafe Noir and Little Jack Melody until they got locked in the basement–rounded up this band instead. Not that you can begrudge…
“After Show Only” backstage passes are concert promoters’ version of a good news-bad news joke. The good news is that you can go backstage. The bad news is that you are often segregated from the real action and rarely get to meet the band. If there is going to be…
Catch a fire The Toughest Peter Tosh Heartbeat A sideman who stepped out front only to have his enormous myth disguise the fact his music was often mediocre, Peter Tosh’s ’60s output surpassed most of his later work; without the Wailers behind him, Tosh always seemed like a second-rate Bob…
Nick Cave has a hard time describing his music, and as he speaks over the phone from New York City, he does so slowly. He forms his words with calculated enunciation, and though he is never evasive, he answers questions carefully and thoughtfully, like a man pondering his own existence…
It’s a wonder the Elvis Presley Enterprises Inc. doesn’t sue Elvis Costello. Or National Public Radio commentator Elvis Mitchell. Or every single Elvis Presley impersonator stalking the streets of Las Vegas. Priscilla and Lisa Marie don’t’ take too kindly to anyone using the King’s name in vain: Try eating a…
“I have to admit, there’s a guaranteed future in dirty dishes, which there ain’t in blues,” Keith Ferguson concedes. “I seem to be the only one who regards himself as a professional musician. Our lead singer’s a dishwasher in the back of some restaurant. If he put half the energy…
The joke’s on you Thank God I’m Livin’ in the U.S.A.! Pump’n Ethyl DSR Records There’s nothing Turner Van Blarcum isn’t pissed off about. He’s getting hammered by minimum wage (“it’s the latest crime wave”), the IRS is out to take what little money he does pocket (“they’re after you/they’re…
In its rush to modernize and colonize, this city destroys more of its musical past every day. The nearly completed Jefferson at Gaston Yards apartments now stand on the old railyards where Blind Lemon Jefferson and Leadbelly once disembarked the trains that led to Deep Ellum. Historic old clubs and…
She had to sin to be saved Signed to a major label before she was even voting age, Maria McKee was always doomed to take a fall. No one wants to hear your voice crack in public. McKee’s had a big, beautiful voice since the age of 20: Lone Justice’s…
Mas means less Colossal Head Los Lobos Warner Bros. The premier roots band of the ’80s has been mutating into the premier avant-rock band of the ’90s–first with Kiko, then as Latin Playboys, now this step in the evolution from bar-band traditionalists into studio creations. This isn’t Los Lobos anymore,…
Blue yodel In 1996, a 61-year-old white male singing country music–the gen-yew-wine article, that is, not this pop-pretty-guys-and-doll garbage NashVegas sticks a hat on and calls country–is a novelty, so much so that Prime-Time Live recently sent a Yankee down here to learn how to yodel from Don Walser. Guys…
Tiny Tim, big record Girl Tiny Tim with Brave Combo Rounder Records After struggling for so long to shrug off the novelty tag that has nipped at its heels since the get-go, Brave Combo teams up with the King of Shlock–the little freak who goes on Howard Stern to talk…
In 10 years of the South by Southwest Music and Media Conference in Austin–the annual gathering of music-bizzers that has become the largest such confab of its kind, drawing well over 5,000 registrants and more than 600 bands–there have been plenty of great concerts and a myriad of impressive showcases…
When they were booked on the same Ed Sullivan Show episode in 1956, Elvis Presley told Ella Mae Morse that listening to her sassy ’40s records, such as “Get On Board Little Chillun,” “Milkman, Keep Those Bottles Quiet,” and her million-selling “Cow Cow Boogie,” taught him how to sing. But…
For many of the faithful, Roy Ashley’s down-home twang defined what little remained of the old KNON-FM spirit. His was the voice of the people who drove pickups, drank Pearl, and knew all the words to “Waltz Across Texas.” On February 29, Ashley wished his audience farewell and abandoned his…
There are some things that, to be truly enjoyed, require a certain suspension of cynicism–stuff like reading fiction, finding God, falling in love…and music, of course. And cynicism about David Garza–or Dah-veed, as he prefers to be called–has been all but the party line in many of the hipper music…
Better than their bite The audience was so sparse all Dave Sardy could do was laugh. The Barkmarket frontman stood at the edge of the Orbit Room stage in late November, staring and smiling slightly at the 15 or so boys–and they were truly boys, kids in backwards baseball caps…
Hero worship Second Coming Bobby Patterson Proud Records At this late date–after a young career spent on the local Abnak/Jetstar label in the ’60s, a stint as performer, producer, and writer for Jewel/Paula in the ’70s, and lost years spent selling other musicians’ records–Bobby Patterson is still forced to re-lease…
The Devil and Greg Dulli Black Love Afghan Whigs Elektra Records Greg Dulli fancies himself rock and roll’s playboy, the homely dude transformed into a soul-singing sex god whenever he plugs in his guitar and stands in front of a video camera. He venerates his indiscretions, glamorizes the lifestyle of…
