A Light Rain's Gonna Fall

You see that stately-looking fellow pictured below? That's David Grant, local writer, former advertising idea man, and a thirty-year resident of Charleston.

Some call him a friend, some a mentor, and I'm betting there are a few folks out there that would like to call him some rude names (hey, we all have a few of those out there in the world). I call him Dad. We've had the typical father-son relationship over the years. As a kid I thought he hung the moon, as a teenager I wondered if there was a bigger nimrod on the face of the Earth, in my early adulthood I thought I knew more than him, and finally sometime in my 30's I realized that I should probably pay attention to him more, because he obviously knows a thing or two. I'm now in my 40's, with a couple of sons of my own. Those boys are currently in the "he hung the moon" phase, but I know it's just a matter of time before I'll be the one getting eye rolls and slammed bedroom doors. I suppose I deserve it.
Anyway, at the risk of this entry becoming some sort of self-inflicted therapy session, let me move on to the real subject here, and yes, it is music-related. One of the things I treasure most about my upbringing is the fact that both of my parents loved music. My late mother was a fan of Elton John, The Beatles, and country music. When I say "country," I don't mean the twangy pop drivel that largely populates the country stations these days, but rather the good stuff like Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, Loretta Lynn, and George Jones. Being raised by a mother who was just as comfortable watching "Hee-Haw" with me as she was playing her LP of "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" on our record player made me very open minded early on to the musical possibilities that were out there. Were she still alive, I have no doubt my mother would still be seeking out new artists to savor.
My dad has a similar eclectic taste in music. My love of The WHO started with him. He's the reason I know who Loudon Wainwright III and Frank Zappa are, and why I got a head start on loving classical music. If you had to take one artist that truly defines who my father is as a music fan though, it would have to be Bob Dylan. As I've mentioned on this blog in the past, he named my little brother Dylan after the singer. I have good memories of hearing him play songs such as "Rainy Day Women #12 and 35" and "Tangled Up in Blue." For years I thought Dylan's voice sounded too weird to be taken seriously, but as I aged I realized that famous nasal quality is one thing that sets him apart from other folk and rock artists.
I finally got to see Dylan live about a decade ago when he played the North Charleston Coliseum. I'd heard that the quality of Dylan's performance was in direct correlation to his temperament at the time, and in the three times I've seen him since then I guess I've been lucky to catch Bob in a good mood each time, because each show has been great. It came to my attention a few years back though that my father had never seen Dylan live. I was pretty amazed to find that out. I guess I'd just assumed that he'd seen the artist perform back when I was a kid or even before I was born. Instead, the biggest Dylan fan I know, at the age of 77, had yet to see the former Robert Zimmerman live and in person. Naturally, when it was announced a couple of months back that Dylan would be playing the Family Circle Stadium on Daniel Island, I knew what I had to do. I bought a couple of tickets in the general admission section on the center court and gave the elder Mr. Grant an early Father's Day gift.
We got to the venue Saturday night under some angry looking skies. With the event being held outside, we hoped for the best as we took our places on the clay court about fifty feet out from the stage. First up was the Los Angeles band Dawes. I had recently reviewed the band's new album, "Stories Don't End," and had been blown away by Dawes' sound. I was anxious to see how well they reproduced the album's soaring ballads live, and the quartet of twenty-somethings definitely didn't disappoint. Lead singer Taylor Goldsmith has a voice that reminds you of Jackson Browne, and when he harmonized on Saturday night with keyboardist Tay Stratharin and drummer Griffin Goldsmith, the hairs on the back of my arms stood up, much like they did the first time I heard Crosby, Stills & Nash mix their vocals together. I could see why this young band caught the ear of Dylan. They play rock music like they did back in the 70's, when names such as Browne, Zevon, Henley, Frey, and Walsh ruled the roost. It was just announced this week that Dawes will be included in the lineup of this year's Southern Ground Food and Music Festival in October. The band is definitely worth checking out when they come back to town.

As Dawes finished its set, scattered raindrops started falling. It wasn't raining outright, but from the way the clouds looked, it was only a matter of time. As the crew finished resetting the stage, the house lights went down, and the giant klieg spotlights at the back of the stage began to glow warmly as Dylan and his band took to the stage. Dylan kept the lighting low throughout the show, possibly to discourage photography. No photo or press passes had been available for the show, but I managed to snap a few shots with my iPhone. Wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a black and white tailored suit, Dylan started in front of a microphone, opening with "Things Have Changed," the Oscar-winning song he wrote for the film "Wonder Boys." He seemed to be having a good time singing a verse and then posing under the lights with the microphone stand. After a couple of more songs Dylan moved over to the grand piano at the side of the stage, where he rolled through songs both old and new such as "Soon After Midnight" and "Early Roman Kings." It took a moment to recognize his loose version of the classic "Tangled Up in Blue," but it was a great reworking of the tune. At the age of 71, Dylan's voice has deteriorated a bit to the point where he sounds a lot like Tom Waits when he sings. Still, there was no denying that the guy still enjoys playing live. Later in the set Dylan performed an absolutely stunning version of another Dylan oldie, "Visions of Johanna," as well as "What Good Am I?" a track off one of my favorite Dylan albums, "Oh Mercy." After a rollicking version of "All Along the Watchtower," which found Dylan again back at the piano, the band bid the crowd goodnight, only to return a few minutes later for a one-song encore of "Ballad of a Thin Man."

Aside from a group of clueless individuals directly behind me who were more interested in discussing fashion and plans for drinking after the show (Really? You're going to talk over "Tangled Up in Blue?"), it was another great Dylan performance. The rain never truly got started, opting instead to just drizzle a bit here and there, and the majority of the crowd was really into the show. I found myself looking at my father's face just as much as I did at the bands on the stage. All during Dylan's set my dad had a little grin on his face as he drank in the experience. It honestly couldn't have gone better if I'd won the lottery and hired Dylan to play a private show for my old man. He can now say he's seen his favorite musician play live, and a stadium full of fans got to stay dry while they enjoyed a great night of music. Thanks, Bob.

Setlist:
Things Have Changed
Love Sick
High Water (For Charley Patton)
Soon After Midnight
Early Roman Kings
Tangled Up in Blue
Pay in Blood
Visions of Johanna
Spirit on the Water
Beyond Here Lies Nothin'
Blind Willie McTell
What Good Am I?
Summer Days
Scarlet Town
All Along the Watchtower

(Encore)
Ballad of a Thin Man

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."

Cue the AT&T dude again. 

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

I'm Typing This With Jazz Hands

As much as I love music, and as much info as I enjoy absorbing about the medium, I have to admit that I have a weak spot - jazz. That isn't to say that I dislike the musical style, quite the contrary. One of my favorite childhood musical memories was attending a performance at the Gaillard Auditorium by the late Dizzy Gillespie. I'll admit that I paid more attention to the jazz trumpeter's cheeks, which puffed out like a bullfrog when he played his trumpet, thank the actual music, but I enjoyed the show. My friend and classmate, Alex Haddad, was really into jazz back then, which we'll go ahead and admit was kind of weird for a seventh grader in 1983. Of course it seems that way then, but in reality ol' Alex was ahead of the curve, an early adapter, and in possession of probably the most open mind at Christ Our King Stella Maris. While Dizzy was doing his thing, Alex was sitting a couple of seats down from me, snapping his fingers and nodding his head in time to the music. I mean, that cat was swingin', and I had to hand it to him for being so free in liking what he liked and if you didn't like it you could go pound sand. 

So, like I said, I was aware of jazz, and thanks to my open-minded parents I heard a bit growing up, but since neither mom nor dad was a jazz enthusiast, I grew up listening to more rock, folk, and country. Later on, as I grew more musically adventurous, I checked out the likes of Miles Davis, Chet Baker, Duke Ellington, Charlie Parker, and even more modern jazz artists like Chick Corea and Michael Brecker. I even got to see Brecker play with Paul Simon in Germany, complete with a solo on his Electronic Wind Instrument (EWI). But even as I started on a career as a music journalist, jazz was still the weak link in my chain of musical knowledge. 

That's why I'm very thankful that there are folks such as Charlton Singleton in this world. I've known Charlton for nearly thirty years now. I was a year ahead of him at Wando High School, and thanks to my amazing ability to totally not understand anything math related, we sat next to one another in Mrs. Weiss's algebra class. Even back then Charlton knew music, specifically jazz. He played in the marching band, eventually becoming drum major. He's now the Artistic Director and Bandleader of the Charleston Jazz Orchestra. If you haven't yet experienced the incredible shows that the CJO puts on, then, well, I could say that you're missing one of Charleston's best kept secrets, but in all honesty the CJO is anything but a secret any more. As a matter of fact, so many music lovers have discovered the CJO that Singleton has had to add a second show each evening it plays at the Charleston Music Hall downtown. "We were having a great problem of being sold out with many people complaining that they didn't get tickets," says Singleton. "If you go to any major city with jazz, like New York, Chicago, or DC, there are always two sets, sometimes three, per gig per night. It made sense for us. We actually have people that go to dinner before the show, catch the first show, then go out and have drinks after the show. Some even come back for the second set."  

The CJO will be doing its thing again this Saturday night at the Charleston Music Hall, as it presents "Atomic Basie," an evening focused on the music of Count Basie. According to Singleton, Saturday's show gets its name from the title of a 1958 Count Basie Orchestra album. "The Basie band is my favorite," says Singleton. "They have a long and significant relationship with Charleston and South Carolina in general. Freddie Green is regarded as the greatest rhythm guitarist to ever live. He is from Charleston. He played with Basie for over 49 years. Basie said that (Green) was the glue that held all of the rhythm section and the band together as far as timing goes. Rufus 'Speedy' Jones played drums for Basie. He was another native of Charleston. The late Pete Minger was the featured trumpet soloist for a number of years in the 70's and 80's. John Williams is a baritone saxophonist who was one of Basie's later hires in the 70's. He's still touring with the band. Both of them are from Orangeburg." 

Singleton also urges anyone who hasn't yet experienced the CJO to come out this Saturday. "If you have never seen the CJO I beg you to come out," says Singleton. "We are extremely personable in the Charleston Music Hall. There isn't a bad seat in the house. The band and the audience laugh, sing, dance. It's just a great time! We have played Ellington, Mozart, James Brown, Michael Jackson, Basie, and everything in between." 

Singleton recently had a chance to play with Cyrus Chestnut, one of jazz music's heavy hitters, in February. "The gig with Cyrus was fantastic," says Singleton. "He was my special guest for the Spoleto auction. This was the third time we had played together." Singleton also recently celebrated another musical triumph as the Kickstarter.com fundraiser for his next studio album became fully funded ahead of schedule. "When I saw that I was fully funded with Kickstarter I was relieved, emotional, and super excited. Lots of friends contributed. Unfortunately, we hear and see the fact that governments and school districts are cutting funding for for the arts left and right. So many arts organizations are going under. I think that Kickstarter and some of the other public funding trends are a big part of the future for arts organizations."

For now though Singleton is looking toward this weekend and the two sets of Basie's music he'll be leading the CJO through. For more information about the CJO visit jazzartistsofcharleston.org.

 

Goodbye, Goodnight, So Long Charleston...

It's always sad when a music act you've followed faithfully decides to pack it in. Sometimes the breakup makes perfect sense, like when Led Zeppelin called it quits after the death of John Bonham. More often than not though the band break up because of inner turmoil, inflated egos, loss of interest (either from the fans or with themselves), or some other sad reason. A couple of months ago one of Charleston's best bands, Crowfield, announced they were calling it quits. I've been a fan of the rock outfit since the first listen to their debut album, "Goodbye, Goodnight, So Long Midwestern." One part The Band, one part early Wilco, and one part a sound all their own, the roots rock act, led by singer-songwriter Tyler Mechem, got to live out their rock star dreams for a few years. Over the course of less than five years, Crowfield went from playing bars to getting radio airplay, getting signed to a major label, and playing before thousands of adoring fans. Along the way the band recorded three excellent and very different albums, including one fully financed by fans through Kickstarter.com. There were low points as well. That major label deal went sour, and the band had to deal with the loss of a close friend when manager and producer Johnny Diamond passed away in 2011. The band paid tribute to their late friend in the title of what would be Crowfield's final album, "The Diamond Sessions."
I sat down Tuesday evening with Mechem at Gene's Haufbrau in West Ashley. Over beers and some fried crawdads we talked about the band, the breakup, and what was next.
To start with, Mechem takes full responsibility for ending the band, saying, "I was the one that brought the breakup to the table." So how did the rest of the band take it? "There was no animosity. I told Parker (Gins, Crowfield's drummer) first, since he and I are the remaining core members of the band. He took it pretty well. He said 'I wondered if you'd ever do it, but I was with you until the end.'"
So why did Mechem decide to pull the plug? "For me, there are things you start a touring band for; getting your songs played on the radio, playing in front of as many people as you can, getting your music heard. Those things just weren't giving me satisfaction anymore like they used to." Mechem also advised that the fate of a band frequently depends on the person who is writing the songs. "I saw us at a plateau, and as an artist you crave upward movement," said Mechem.
When asked about fan reaction to the breakup, Mechem admits he was surprised by the majority of the reaction. "There were some folks who were angry," he said, "but much of the reaction was positive, although they were sad to hear the news."
As a way of saying thank you to the people who have supported the band for the last few years, Crowfield will be putting on its final performance this Friday at the Charleston Music Hall. That venue is currently undergoing a renaissance of sorts. Already this year Elise Testone, Shovels & Rope, and Boyd Tinsley of Dave Matthews Band have performed at the site. For Mechem, wrapping things up at the Charleston Music Hall was a no-brainer. "I love that place," said Mechem, "the way it sounds, the whole look of it. It was only natural that we say goodbye there."
Friday's show will start with a performance by Luke Cunningham, Ryan Bonner, and John Wesley Satterfield, who will trade songs in a songwriters in the round performance. "Those three are artists we've become friends with, and we wanted to surround ourselves with friends for the final show," said Mechem. "We wanted sort of a 'The Last Waltz' vibe." Crowfield will play two sets of songs, with a short intermission in between. "We'll be playing about 30 songs," said Mechem, "so we can try to make sure everyone hears their favorite." Fans can expect appearances by just about every member of Crowfield both past and present, including founding member Joe Giant, who left the band last year to go back to school, and Micah Nichols, who now plays guitar for Cunningham's band. Bassist Jonathan Gray, one of the hardest working musicians in town, is also scheduled to play with the band again.
So what comes next for Mechem and the rest of Crowfield? "I plan to keep writing and recording, but I have no definite plans other than that I want to keep making music," said Mechem. The songwriter and his wife will also soon be busy with another release; the birth of their first child in May. "I'm trying to get all the sleep I can now," joked Mechem. As for the rest of the band, Mechem says they all still plan to make music as well through various projects.
Mechem also wanted to make it clear how much the band has appreciated the support of its fans over the years. "I know it sounds cliché," said Mechem, "but we can't say thank you enough. Everything we've been able to do as a band was made possible by our fans."
While Friday night's farewell show is sure to be a bittersweet affair, Mechem and the rest of Crowfield plan to make it a celebration rather than a wake. A few tickets are still available, and if you haven't yet seen Crowfield live, this will be your last chance to see one of the Lowcountry's most dynamic live acts. I wouldn't miss it for the world.  

Heard Ya Missed Us, We're Baaack! (I Brought My Pencil!)

Given that my blog deals mainly with music, it probably comes as no surprise that I'm pretty music obsessed. It isn't really the act of listening to a record, CD, or MP3 file, that really does it for me, although discovering new recordings and enjoying old ones is definitely something I like to do. No, for me the true joy in being a music geek comes when I can share a moment with fellow enthusiasts. That may be why I love live music so much. The experience of seeing a live act hold an audience in the palm of its hand is almost indescribable. I'm not really a religious guy, but there have been times when I've experienced a live show that pretty much equaled a divine act. It doesn't happen often, but when it does goosebumps pop up on my arms, I get a shiver up my spine, and my cheeks ache from smiling.
I had all of those symptoms going this past Saturday night as local indie heroes in Shovels & Rope made a triumphant return to their hometown for a sold-out show at the Charleston Music Hall. The show had been sold out for weeks, and the show was a hot ticket not just here in Charleston, but in places like Savannah and Charlotte, where folks were looking to score tickets at any cost. I had even bought a couple of tickets just prior to them selling out. Sure, my job usually affords me the luxury of getting into a lot of shows free, but I had a feeling about this one, and fortunately my instincts were correct. How close did I come to not getting into the show? I was in the next to last row of the Music Hall's balcony. I figure if I'd waited another 30 minutes or so and I'd have been out in the cold.
For those not familiar with Shovels & Rope, the band consists of Michael Trent and Cary Ann Hearst. Both have enjoyed successful solo careers, Trent with his excellent solo album "The Winner" (which basically hasn't come out of my CD changer since it was released nearly 3 years ago), and Hearst with her single "Hells Bells," which was featured on the HBO series "True Blood." It wasn't until the husband and wife team joined forces though that their career took off like a rocket. After releasing "O' Be Joyful" last year the duo soon found themselves in high demand. By the beginning of this year they were accepting offers to play David Letterman and New York City's Bowery Ballroom, and then the festival invites started pouring in (Coachella, Newport Folk Fest, Hangout Fest). So naturally with a buzz on them like a swarm of hornets, Trent and Hearst had to expect a huge hometown welcome for the Charleston Music Hall show.
Prior to Shovels & Rope taking the stage the sellout crowd was treated to a gorgeous performance by local musicians Bill Carson, Rachel Kate Gillon, and Jonathan Gray. The trio, all of who are friends with one another, had never performed together as a trio - at least that's what Carson told me in the lobby during the intermission. Hopefully it won't be the last. With Carson on guitar, Gillon rocking the glockenspiel (rockin' the glocken, as it were), and Gray on the upright bass, they played several of Carson's songs, most of which featured Carson and Gillon harmonizing beautifully, with Gray occasionally chiming in. Carson has a wonderfully gentle, melancholy songwriting style, and I'm guessing he made a few new fans Saturday night. After playing the title track from his album "The Great Whale - Or, Say It; Don't Spray It," Carson took time to congratulate Gillon, who just hours before had received word that her Kickstarter.com project for her forthcoming album had received full financing. It was very cool of Trent and Hearst to give a bit of the spotlight to three of Charleston's more eclectic and talented musicians for the opening slot.

After a short intermission the lights went down and the venue erupted in a cacophony of hoots, whistles, and rebel yells. Trent and Hearst took their places on the stage, which was empty aside from a drum kit, a small keyboard, a few guitars and a couple of microphone stands. Shovels & Rope then kicked into "Hail Hail," one of the harder tracks from "O' Be Joyful," and the joint went completely berserk. No, really, I'm guessing that whoever does the building maintenance on the Charleston Music Hall will likely be investigating why the roof seems to have detached from the building. I've been going to see concerts since I was 12, and have seen literally hundreds of shows. I have never seen a reaction like that at the top of a show. The audience was up and out of their seats as one, and stayed on their feet for the majority of the show.

With the opening song out of the way, Trent and Hearst kicked into "Keeper," another great track from the new album. It was pretty evident from no matter where you were sitting in the theater that the couple were getting a bit emotional up their on the stage. "Eighty-seven more!," yelled someone from the balcony, a curious yet understandable interjection that would be repeated after almost every song in the set. Watching the pair interact with one another on the stage was almost like watching them perform some bizarre tango, a tango that required one dancer to be seated behind a drum kit. While each musician had plenty of moments when they threw their heads back in musical extacy, the really great moments came when the two were gazing into one another's eyes. The look on their face to me said, "Can you believe this?" You couldn't help but smile.

Later performances in Shovels & Rope's set included Trent performing the title track from "The Winner," and a gorgeous rendition of "Birmingham" by Hearst. While tuning her guitar early in the show, Hearst voiced her appreciation at being home, and started listing the virtues of the Holy City. The duo then launched into "Kemba's Got the Cabbage Moth Blues," a fast and furious hoedown tune that features the immortal drinking lyrics, "It was a whiskey and a whiskey and a whiskey and a whiskey and a whiskey and a whiskey and a whiskey while the music did play!" A song or two later the pair gave a shout out to local graphic artist Gil Shuler. Trent performed "All Those Words," another track from "The Winner," and a few songs later he introduced the White Stripe-ish tune "Tickin' Bomb" by saying "This song is somewhere between creepy ad sexy." The title track to "O' Be Joyful" gave way to a cover of Bruce Springsteen's "Johnny 99," which sounded perfect re-imagined by Shovels & Rope.

After briefly leaving the stage, Trent and Hearst returned for an encore that included the beautiful "Carnival" from "O' Be Joyful, "Boxcar" from Shovels & Rope's self-titled debut, and yet another Trent solo song, "Bad Luck," during which the duo brought out another local talent, Clay White, to play trumpet.

The show was easily one of the better and more emotional performances I've seen in this town. Trent and Hearst were at ease, no doubt because of the number of familiar faces in the audience. They might as well have been performing in a friend's living room, provided the living room was big enough tohold about 900 people. To sum it up, if you were late getting tickets then I feel for you. This is a show folks will be talking about for years. Congrats to Shovels & Rope on their fame thus far. Here's hoping that there's plenty more to come. Those of us that have been following Trent and Hearst's careers for the last few years know how hard they both work, and no one deserves what is currently happening to them more.