Thursday, April 11, 2013

Hoots and Hollers With The Royal Tinfoil


Lily Slay is highly amused. Sitting in the main recording studio at Truphonic Recording Studio in West Ashley, the buxom, tattooed singer and guitarist has been hearing the voice of one of her bandmates in The Royal Tinfoil coming through faintly, but is trying to figure out how she is hearing it, since the adjacent studio's microphone is turned off. Then she realizes that fellow singer and guitarist Mackie Boles is speaking into his guitar pickups, which explains why his voice sounds robotic and otherworldly. It's just one of the many ways that the band members, which also include bassist Brad Edwardson, drummer Marshall Hudson, and keyboardist Whitt Algar, are blowing off steam as they record The Royal Tinfoil's new album. Things have been good lately for The Royal Tinfoil. They were recently named Best Local Band by the Charleston City Paper in that publication's annual Best of Charleston issue (the same one that named charlestongrit.com Best One Stop Blog). The band's unique mix of musical styles, which Slay describes as "garage-country-swamp-pop-gypsy," has obviously caught on, although the band was unprepared for the accolades from the City Paper ("Yeah, we don't know either," says Slay).
The band was nice enough to let me sit in on an evening of its recording process recently. Recording at Truphonic is a huge step up for the band. "Our last album was recorded in three days in a basement in Kansas," says Slay. Back then Slay and Boles basically were The Royal Tinfoil, hiring additional musicians when a gig called for it. This time out the band is taking more time and recording more professionally. Truphonic Chief Engineer MJ Fick sits behind the massive sound board in the studio's main control room, which features a huge video display above the window that allows folks in the control room to see what is going on in the main studio. Fick, who helped oversee the construction of the state of the art studio, shows me some tricks he uses, like draping a wool blanket over the bass drum of Hudson's kit, creating a sort of tent or tunnel that enhances the sound of the instrument. Hudson and Slay are still in the main studio, recording various takes of one of the 16 songs the band plans to record while at Truphonic. During a break the band gathers in the control room, which has a couch and table-like console that is littered with pizza boxes, laptops, and liquor bottles. Truphonic shares a wall with a liquor store next door, and The Royal Tinfoil has been taking advantage of the convenience, purchasing bottles of Evan Williams, Fireball, and Patron. Slay punches up a song by Tickleswitch, a side project of The Royal Tinfoil, while she checks Facebook and looks at YouTube videos. At the time I visit the band is about halfway done with the recording process. They plan on releasing the album, which currently has a working title of "Feed These Demons," in September. According to Slay, who sports a red beehive wig that would make Kate Pierson of the B-52's green with envy, the new Royal Tinfoil album will be much different from the band's previous release. "The first album was tongue in cheek," says Slay, "but this is more macabre and dark, sinister, sleazy. We're taking everyone's individual styles and using them. I feel like this time out I'm writing as a member of a group instead of as a solo artist." In between stories from the road about tearing each other's shirts off onstage and Boles accidentally breaking Slay's foot at one show, Slay plays a demo of a song called "Roselina," which features Boles singing the semi-improvised lyrics "Gimmie twenty dollars with the hoots and hollers!" If the finished album is anything like that demo, then fans of The Royal Tinfoil have a lot to look forward to this fall.

Is "Conversate" Even a Word?


There's been a lot of chatter online the last few days about the new Brad Paisley song "Accidental Racist." The song, which is featured on Paisley's new album, "Wheelhouse," features the country artist singing about the fact that the Confederate flag on his T-shirt doesn't necessarily make him a racist. "The red flag on my chest somehow is like the elephant in the corner of the south/And I just walked him right in the room/Just a proud rebel son with an 'ol can of worms/Lookin' like I got a lot to learn but from my point of view," sings Paisley in the first verse. Later in the chorus he sings, "We're still pickin' up the pieces, walkin' on eggshells, fightin' over yesterday/And caught between southern pride and southern blame." 
Later in the song things get a little weird as LL Cool J puts in his two cents worth. Yeah, I know; I can practically hear you saying "Wwwwhat?" like the guy on the AT&T commercial after the little girl tells her werewolf story. You read that correctly both times though; LL Cool J is featured on a modern country track. Given the song's subject matter, getting the point of view of an African-American seems like a genuinely good idea here. Let's see what Mr. NCIS: Los Angeles has to say on the matter. "I'd love to buy you a beer, conversate and clear the air/But I see that red flag and I think you wish I wasn't here." 

Ooooo...kay.

Still later, Paisley and LL combine their ideas. 

Paisley: I'm proud of where I'm from
LL Cool J: If you don't judge my gold chains
Paisley: But not everything we've done
LL Cool J: I'll forget the iron chains
Paisley: It ain't like you and me can re-write history
LL Cool J: Can't re-write history baby

Toward the end, LL actually says, "RIP Robert E. Lee."


Before I go on, I should probably give a little background on my personal beliefs on race relations and living in the South. I moved here with my family at the age of 12 back in 1982 from San Diego, California. In other words, I'm a person "from off," as they like to say here, even though I've been here more than three decades now. That's cool, I've learned to live with the fact that I'll never truly be Southern, no matter how much I love living in this region. My native-Charlestonian wife delights at reminding me of that fact. I was brought up by a couple of pretty open-minded, well educated parents who basically laid out my to siblings and I that a human is a human, no matter what color they are. Seeing actual instances of racism while living here (and yes, I'm likely not surprising anyone by saying that it still happens, even in 2013) still shocks me, but then I also realize that the world is full of idiots who also come in all different colors. We all know racism isn't exclusive to the South. I saw it living in Southern California as a kid, in Germany when I was stationed there in the army, and in Saudi Arabia when I was deployed there. Too often the South gets a bad rap as being a place where everyone would love to see slavery make a return, but in reality most Southerners, both black and white, are good people, especially the ones in the Lowcountry. I mean, come on, we've been called the most polite city in America how many times? I'm not trying to make it seem like I'm wearing a halo here, but I'm a live and let live kind of guy. When the whole flap over the Confederate flag on top of the Statehouse was going on a few years back, I was amazed at the hatred that erupted on both sides, first when the flag came down off the dome, then when it stalled out on the grounds of the Statehouse instead of disappearing all together. Now I understand that there are plenty of descendants of brave Johnny Rebs that would argue that the flag represents their heritage, and while that's all fine and dandy, it's a symbol of a time when this country was divided. It always amuses me when some good ol' boy sports a Confederate flag shirt while chanting "USA! USA!" So while there are plenty of folks who fly the rebel flag as a tribute to their heritage, there are just as many who do it out of spite and hate.
So, anyway, back to the song. It would be one thing if this tune were somewhat well written and executed, but it really isn't. In all honesty, "Accidental Racist" is a half-ass piece of songwriting all around. What has me particularly stymied is the fact that I really dig both of the artists involved here. I got into rap back in the early 80's, when films like Krush Groove and Beat Street marked Hollywood's willingness to milk the art form of rap for all it was worth. I bought RUN-DMC's first album on cassette. Ya feelin' me? During that time I loved LL Cool J's work. I mean, come on, this is the guy who gave us "I Can't Live Without My Radio," "Rock the Bells," "Around the Way Girl," and "Mama Said Knock You Out." He's a true hip hop legend. Sure, he currently spends more time as an actor these days, but there will always be a part of LL that is still street as hell.
Brad Paisley is a different kind of like for me. For years I could have cared less about the guy. He was one of those modern country artists I normally despise, the kind whose idea of country sounded more like schlocky rock and roll. Then I was sent to review one of his concerts at the North Charleston Coliseum a few years ago. I went with an open mind, despite my hatred of modern country, and much to my surprise I was blown away by the guy's showmanship. Paisley is the Eddie Van Halen of modern country. He tears it up on those signature paisley Telecasters of his. I got a chance to see him a couple of years ago a second time at the Coliseum, and toward the end of the show he took a nasty spill down a ramp on the stage. It was one of those falls that makes you cringe when you see it, and he just missed impaling himself on his guitar. Paisley recovered and stumbled off the stage, then took a trip to the hospital where, despite being injured, he posed for a picture with the medical staff. That's a standup guy in my book. 
My admiration for both of these artists makes it all the more painful to admit that "Accidental Racist" panders to the same sort of folks that get misty eyed when they hear Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the USA" (my distaste for that song deserves its own blog entry). Compared to "Accidental Racist," that other towering pile of crap dedicated to racial harmony, "Ebony and Ivory" by Stevie Wonder and Paul McCartney, seems like high art in comparison. 
So that's my take on it. Obviously not everyone will agree with me, but then that's the great thing about art: everyone is entitled to their opinion. 

Here are the full lyrics to the song, just in case you haven't had the misfortune to hear it:

To the man that waited on me at the Starbucks down on Main, I hope you understand
When I put on that t-shirt, the only thing I meant to say is I'm a Skynyrd fan
The red flag on my chest somehow is like the elephant in the corner of the south
And I just walked him right in the room
Just a proud rebel son with an 'ol can of worms
Lookin' like I got a lot to learn but from my point of view


I'm just a white man comin' to you from the southland
Tryin' to understand what it's like not to be
I'm proud of where I'm from but not everything we've done
And it ain't like you and me can re-write history
Our generation didn't start this nation
We're still pickin' up the pieces, walkin' on eggshells, fightin' over yesterday
And caught between southern pride and southern blame

They called it Reconstruction, fixed the buildings, dried some tears
We're still siftin' through the rubble after a hundred-fifty years
I try to put myself in your shoes and that's a good place to begin
But it ain't like I can walk a mile in someone else's skin

'Cause I'm a white man livin' in the southland
Just like you I'm more than what you see
I'm proud of where I'm from but not everything we've done
And it ain't like you and me can re-write history
Our generation didn't start this nation
And we're still paying for the mistakes
That a bunch of folks made long before we came
And caught between southern pride and southern blame

Dear Mr. White Man, I wish you understood
What the world is really like when you're livin' in the hood
Just because my pants are saggin' doesn't mean I'm up to no good
You should try to get to know me, I really wish you would
Now my chains are gold but I'm still misunderstood
I wasn't there when Sherman's March turned the south into firewood
I want you to get paid but be a slave I never could
Feel like a new fangled Django, dodgin' invisible white hoods
So when I see that white cowboy hat, I'm thinkin' it's not all good
I guess we're both guilty of judgin' the cover not the book
I'd love to buy you a beer, conversate and clear the air
But I see that red flag and I think you wish I wasn't here

I'm just a white man
(If you don't judge my do-rag)
Comin' to you from the southland
(I won't judge your red flag)
Tryin' to understand what it's like not to be
I'm proud of where I'm from
(If you don't judge my gold chains)
But not everything we've done
(I'll forget the iron chains)
It ain't like you and me can re-write history
(Can't re-write history baby)

Oh, Dixieland
(The relationship between the Mason-Dixon needs some fixin')
I hope you understand what this is all about
(Quite frankly I'm a black Yankee but I've been thinkin' about this lately)
I'm a son of the new south
(The past is the past, you feel me)
And I just want to make things right
(Let bygones be bygones)
Where all that's left is southern pride
(RIP Robert E. Lee but I've gotta thank Abraham Lincoln for freeing me, know what I mean)
It's real, it's real
It's truth

Songwriters: James Todd Smith/Brad Paisley/Lee Thomas Miller