indie folk

From the Motel of the Soul

Robert Cochrane — Sun, 24 Apr 2022 17:19:59 +0000

From the Motel of the Soul Robert Cochrane April 24, 2022 - 13:19

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Dusty Wright: Lonelyville (PetRock)

Lonelyville isn't on the map but we've all been there, a state in the states of the mind. Such being so, Dusty Wright's new album which bears that title is an epistle to an aspect of being we'd mostly prefer to ignore, let alone admit to ever having visited, travelled through or stayed at. An album from the motel in the soul.

Proceedings kick-start via the infectiously catchy title cut. With a skip in its step and an ache in its hurt, this is garage psych as defiant understatement.

"All alone atop a hill

I'm a star in Lonelyville

Living life, standing still"

Shades in shades of the late Roky Eriksson's "Creature Of The Atom Brain." Radio-friendly outsidererness perfectly realized.

"Unbearable Brightness" struts along with a sassy rock 'n' roll swagger. Defiant nonchalance, clipped concise and poised. A ghosting of female vocals from Norwegian chanteuse Cecilie Anna add sparkle, spookery and shade to Wright's deadpan and droll delivery about feeling utterly conflicted.

"But I don't know what to say

I don't know what to do

But I know you know

Just how you make me feel."

With "When Our Hearts Sing" there's an almost Appalachian country dance melancholia. A dirge festooned with nuances of inspiration embellished with long meditative chords akin to a waltz. Again Cecilie Anna showers the proceedings with near ethereal light and shade. As a waltz of death it soars, crests and lands a direct slap into the listener's very being.

"Riptide Of Love" fires into life like a gothic surf infused Robert Gordon in cahoots with The Cramps in poppy mode. A blistering song that thrives as it drives with an energy that used to fire needles from the wax grooves they were spinning through.

"Caught in a riptide of love

Don't know if we're under or above."

"One Last Time (Song For Carol)" is a melancholy baby marooned in the risk of ample space for all its sadness to show, tremble and glow. A thoroughly sorrowing breath of grace and loss, like Nick Cave at his stark reflective best. Wrights's voice blends with Cecilie Anna to create a celestial choir. This holy gem of a song is bereavement laid out and bare on a woeful and elegantly sad cello line. Stark but uplifting, a hard act to convey and so gently perfect. A lullabye laced with final goodbyes via an achingly considered vocal.

"Now I close my eyes

One last time

One last time, close my eyes..."

A near Jose Feliciano/Sixto Rodriguez edginess exudes from "To Find Love" before slip, sliding into an effortless countryness with lyrical snippets resembling lines stolen from old postcards. A swaggering sadness abetted via Queen Esther on background vocals.

"As I gazed at the night sky

A dark star was rising fast

And though I stumbled

In the darkness

I knew it would not last...

You have to to love

To find love"

"Tree Of Life" is swamp rock noir, a monochrome "Jack & Diane" from the wrong side of capitalist greed. An update of Barry McGuire's "Eve Of Destruction" in a more dystopian guise with lightning flash guitar licks in perfect tandem with insistent drums. Gothique-go-go dressed in echoes of Chris Isaak.

Things take a scatty bubblegum turn with "Stare Into The Sun" which masquerades with deceptively flippant nods and winks of psychedelic nuance to the nursery chimes of Ohio Express, The Lemon Pipers, and The 1910 Fruit Gum Company. A defiant post modern uptempo retelling of comforting couplets, deftly delivered with tremendous aplomb. A strange twist of thoughts renewed with a hint of warning.

"The Saddest Story Never Told" arrives as the epic centre of the album. Cinematic and brooding it coils like a snake with slashes of Dusty's guitar and slithers of piano (Erik Deutsch), a soundscape soundtrack akin to David Ackles and his profoundly neglected American Gothic with Leonard Cohen in his "First We Take Manhattan" nihilism garb. The dark lyrics are a poem by Wright's bassist Kevin Mackell about a suicide. Wrights voice is riddled with pathos like a sermon from the end of the world. Distinguished gravitas reeked with sorrow, a dexterous simplicity of wordplay. Darkness shining, profoundly biblical, David Lynch should shoot a video for this.

"Making New Friends" has the jauntiness of childhood. Imagine restrained Shel Silverstien without the manic cackles. Sunshine pop sorrow with wry bleakness drenched in brittle wit. This psych malady, is a sinister expression of need and the expectation of despair. The simplicity of the wish prepared for with the pitfalls that await, a wry spry incantation. Deceptively nonchalant, utterly dark.

"I'm playing with mud again

I'm building a brand new friend.

I just like to make...

Make new friends."

"Leaving Lonelyville" is the closing shindig farewell, an animated telegram of resigned exiting, it conjures images akin to the finale that pops up as an 'au revoir' in the closing seconds of elderly cartoons.

Lonelyville possesses deftness. A concept album that dissects despair, and via that impulse delivers moments of eloquent reflection, naked insights along with radio-friendly moments. A collection that deserves to be widely heard, shared, bought, stolen or treasured. It now has its ticket to ride. A mini masterpiece it holds the luxury of sounding exquisite whilst appearing absolutely effortless. Welcome to Lonelyville.

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No Sorrow Involved

Robert Cochrane — Fri, 05 Feb 2021 21:59:57 +0000

No Sorrow Involved Robert Cochrane February 5, 2021 - 16:59

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BUCK CURRAN: No Love Is Sorrow (ESP-Disk')

Timeless but with an inherent sixties element of George Harrison on a spiritual quest.

Perhaps the spectre too of Brian Jones in gaudy robes.

A tender symphony of elegant suggestions.

This is a sublime collision of cultural styles and timings.

Implications of America and India drift past.

Pictures of deserts on different continents.

Here is a joy to the ears.

There is also a suggestion of old Englishness.

A fading sepia postcard that infers Pentangle, John Renbourn, and Bert Jansch.

Hints align of Canterbury and Laurel Canyon esoterics.

Whispers too of Italian warmth and sunshine amongst forgotten ruins.

Virtuosity in a cohesive yet modest elegance it slinks along with a true sense of where it is going.

The listener is involved in a journey that is fills the mind with a deft and quiet wonder.

A tone poem to bring a cascade of pictures to mind in a nakedly beautiful fashion.

One man in perfect tandem with his creation littered with an endless implication of considered touches.

There are ghosts of elegant dancers with expressively extended fingers.

A poise of grace and an implication of golden adornement and attire.

Brief time for thought and the scent of incense.

Backwards glances whilst looking forward.

Instrumental pieces have largely fallen out of favour.

The fear and need of voices sometimes reigns superfulous.

This studious confection confirms that a thing of beauty may exist alone.

A gift upon the heart.

A mediatation and a form of meditation.

A singular tango between the notes and your soul.

- Rob Cochrane

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Song of the Week: "The Cooling"

Dusty Wright — Sat, 02 May 2015 14:48:40 +0000

Song of the Week: "The Cooling" Dusty Wright May 2, 2015 - 10:48

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folk

The life of singer-songwriters who have attempted to navigate the modern music biz is littered on a highway to hell. A nearly-impossible task of "making it" seems a daunting task for even the most noble of bards. But thankfully the Minneapolis-based indie folk artist Reina del Cid ignored the warnings and delivered a remarkably coherent effot, start to finish. The Cooling is smart and evocative and basic - vocals, guitars, upright bass and drums. These are road tested songs that have found adoring audiences all over the midwest. Now they have the opportunity to find a larger audience. The title track is unquestionably one of my favorite tracks of the year. This string-driven (cello, violins, upright bass) waltz about death is so smart that it will inspire you. And if that ain't livin', well, then you ain't livin'!

Where Do The Children Play?

Dusty Wright — Wed, 30 Aug 2006 05:59:12 +0000

Where Do The Children Play? Dusty Wright August 30, 2006 - 01:59

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Why do we post vidcasts on artists or musicians that might not be known by the general public?

Why would should I waste precious time filming an artist sitting in his/her apartment or a musician playing on the subway? And then spend countless hours editing and posting it to my site?

Well, that's one of the cool things about this site and why I started it. Culture Catch can and will continue to showcase the high-profile folks, but we'll also help boost the careers of the artists who need a platform.

And I love doing it. I can help artists get their music or art or literature or acting out to the world. And we're getting tremendous response back. Don't get me wrong, we certainly like the high-profile acts, but we really want to champion the smart culture set. We want to share the should-be-knowns and nearly-knowns too, because the Internet is the perfect place to share them with you. We can co-op our space to them and let them share their art/work, their passion, in ways that might not be able to afford otherwise.

As many of you know, in the glory days of music -- the '60s and '70s -- the labels use to do it and the real A&R men helped launch many storied careers. They helped foster the creative process and they were patient. Sadly, those days are long gone, as the marketing boys now dictate policy. But the Internet has proven how an artist can reach out and touch many people in ways we couldn't have imagined even 10 years ago. I was a William Morris agent back in the early '80s and we'd do it with blossoming talent, too. I took a chance with a young comic named Andrew "Dice" Clay and he hit big time for the agency, grossing nearly 20 million dollars just one year later.

A few years ago I met a young singer-songwriter named Richard McGraw; I met in the lobby of the Beacon Theater during a Nick Cave concert. He was handing out his CDs for free; like a modern-day Johnny Appleseed. (If you like his music, you could send him a check.) Well, I loved his introspective folk-rock music so much so that I wanted to help him. But back then all I could do was write a review of his Her Sacred Status My Militant Needs CD for a local periodical. But last month he sent me his new CD, Song and Void: Volume One, and I loved it even more than his debut. And now I was in a position to help him even more. I could interview him and film him singing and post his vidcast and let the rest of the world find him on our site. He may never reach the status of a Cat Stevens, Nick Cave, or even a Mark Kozelek, but his passion will touch people. That much I am certain.

I'm not competing with AOL or myspace. I want this site to resonate with smart culture people. I don't need, nor want, everyone. I want smart folks who trust me when I share someone they don't know. That may be arrogant on my part, but I feel passionately that it's worth the gamble.

And that's why I love the fact that I can share art with the world with this website. For every Les Paul, there might be a dozen who will never get the opportunities that fortune/luck/talent afforded him. But who knows, the way viral marketing works on the web... anything is possible. He/she could be the next big thing in a matter of months, the next person to reach the stars.

And while I have many high-profile podcasts/vidcasts getting ready to post, including such artists as Echo & The Bunnymen, Buzzcocks, actor Matthew Modine, writer Gore Vidal, adult film star Tera Patrick, etc., I'll be posting the nearly-knowns and the should-be-knowns, too. And they will have their opportunity to share their art with the world.