Cadillac Sky.

I needed a bit of a musical rose sorbet today, and so spun Cadillac Sky‘s Blind Man Walking record on the commute. (YouTube playlist here.)

This is one of those groups, for me, that somehow flies under the radar for long periods of time, surprising me anew when I circle back around: “Jeez, how on earth did this fall under the bus for so long–again?” (I recently had similar experiences with Supertramp and John Hartford.)

It caused me to really think about the question: just what is it about this group that makes me love it so much? Because at a glance, it’s not necessarily obvious. Sure, I love mutt music, and Cadillac Sky clearly goes beyond “traditional” bluegrass (which itself is an earlier form of mutt music too), but it’s not just that. Likewise, I will always have a soft spot for the song “Never Been So Blue”, in particular, because indirectly, that song, as the initial seed to one of my wife’s longest-running Pandora stations, years ago now brought me to unexpected and important new worlds, such as Israeli jazz bass wizard Avishai Cohen and Tunisian oud-meister Anouar Brahem. (To this day, if the fam has Pandora playing when I walk in the room and I suddenly have to ask, “wow, what is that?”, it is almost invariably Cathy’s “Never Been So Blue Radio” station that’s playing.) But that’s not all of it, either.

I think what it really is, is that I identify so personally with some of the subtle things going on. For example, a lot of what you hear on Blind Man Walking is either pretty straight-up bluegrass, or not-that-far-out newgrass; there are plenty of other groups out there about which one could say the same. But then they will drop in exactly the sort of “that guy” dissonance, or unexpected chord movement, that I would think I would contribute, if I were in a group grounded in a traditional form. (At group musical jams I am often “that guy”.) It’s there, and then it’s gone; Bill Bruford used to call that sort of thing “demon snippets”. They do it in a way that (to my ears at least) is unique to Cadillac Sky, and you can hear it in the writing, in the harmonies of voice and instruments, and even in the production. (Holy cow, this record is absolutely beautifully recorded and mixed, taking full advantage of the modern studio to bring instrument nuances right up front, without ever losing the acoustic-ensemble aesthetic.)

In its musical subtlety–how all the little “that guy” moments are so beautifully “there-and-then-gone,-don’t-blink-or-you-may-miss-it”–it is reminiscent of John Hartford, but the style is totally different. Unique. And glorious.

Anyway, I really should flesh out my Cadillac Sky catalog. The things I’ve heard via Cathy’s Pandora stations, from the other available records, portend good things in that regard.

To remind myself, I’ll thus bookmark both Gravity’s Our Enemy:

and Trapped Under The Ice:

Bookmarking more Guthrie.

I chased a[nother] Guthrie (Govan) fix today–they happen, every so often–and realized I need a couple more bookmarks as a result. Initially I’d been inspired to mention Rick Beato’s “Inside the Sound Of” episode on Guthrie, only to discover I’d already done that. Ha! I’m a simple creature, at heart.

However, what I had not done, in that previous Beato post, was to bookmark the video that Beato used as the basis of his episode. That oversight is henceforth corrected:

uh

Of this clip, Rick relates in his “Inside the Sound Of” episode: “Now when I first heard this, I said, ‘This is unbelievable…'”, which I find somewhat amusing in this context. One of the things I love so much about Beato is his childlike joy and enthusiasm in so much of what he does, and he actually overuses the word “unbelievable” quite a bit. (I’m actually pretty sympathetic to the phenomenon, as I’m quite aware of my own susceptibility to get swept away by my own joy and enthusiasm. You have to allow for it.)

But Hell’s bells, that ain’t foolin’ no one here. Really watching and listening to the above clip, “unbelievable” is a fairly massive understatement–all the moreso the closer you study it! IIRC, I first heard Guthrie referred to as “an alien intelligence” by the late and sorely missed William Norman Grigg, a term which I only heard him apply to one other person–and that was Allan Holdsworth. It seems as accurate a term as anything else one could come up with.

And Guthrie also has a wonderful knack for sharing wisdom, as well. I’ve already been inspired to post about that before, but there are other nuggets out there as well, and I’ll bookmark a couple here just to have them available, if nothing else as a reminder to go look for them every so often…

Here he is on extracting the essential from a given style:

And here, from the same series, on the incredibly simple idea of overcoming the mechanical limitation inherent in traditional guitar vibrato:

Here’s the entry point to a different series on string bending, which is as usual pure gold. Don’t be fooled when he seems to be in “just another teacher” mode; you may well miss a simple but powerful point of illumination as he throws it in.

This is obviously a much earlier clip from a different outfit, which has a few aggravations (e.g., the reverb and delay on his tone actually gets in the way of clarity, and he was obviously much more “noodly” in presentation, occasionally to distraction), but it’s clear that the gold, the nuance, is still very much there. On alternate picking:

And finally, a[n arbitrary] other clip from yet another source, introducing slap, slide, and tapping ideas to guitarists. (Note that at writing time, the video’s thumbnail image makes it look like the clip won’t play–that is an illusion! Try it before assuming the clip is gone.)

There are others, and I won’t try to catalog them all. However, I can’t leave without including a couple of him with the Vigier fretless guitar, because I’ve got a fascination with fretless, and who better to see work one out than Guthrie?

First, from 2011:

And again a little later:

That’s all for now, but…man, I do kinda hope I have to be back here soon, with more. 🙂

twenty øne piløts, ‘Trench’.

I have long anticipated the day when my kids would start to introduce me, actively, to new music. (For even longer, I’ve joked that at some point they will certainly bring me stuff that I truly detest, thus satisfying one of the Things You Must Do To Your Parents Before You Die, but that’s another matter entirely.) The girls’ interest has undergone a distinct change over the last year, not so much “away from” as “beyond” the eccentric palette of styles they’ve heard from me and Cathy*.

A whole lot of new acts have since rolled across their player, and now I think we may have the first bona fide example of “introducing something new to Dad”, in the form of the album Trench, by twenty øne piløts. They sing the songs, they know things about the music and the group (both on their own and from friends, from whom they themselves discovered the group), and they’ve even asked me to listen to it specifically. Very well then, girls; it’s important to me to honor that. And so, in the “best-available” listening environment of the family car on the twenty mile drive to and from work, I have now been able to put myself honorably into the “empty vessel” mode, and give it a good first listen. The group have voluntarily made the record available on YouTube here, which is useful for the bookmark. 🙂

The executive summary reaction is:  on first listen at least, Trench delivers quite a bit more than I expected, and it makes me want to listen both again, and more.

(But you know I can’t stop there, right? I have a reputation for “verbal vomitus” to uphold here… 🙂 )

So, some specific things that struck me in this initial listen, in no particular order:

• This is an album with something to say.  That’s meaningful to me.  Some paintings just hang there on the wall, while others speak; and while the former do usually look nice;  the latter can change human lives.
• The musical style does indeed seem to shift around quite a bit, and I’ve no better answer now to “what is their genre?” than I did before.  I actually find this endearing, as I love things that defy category, if done well.
• Given the breadth of stylistic influences on display, the arrangements and orchestration (and certainly the production aesthetic) seem pointedly modern—which, unexpectedly but effectively, seems to produce a unifying identity for the music itself.  (That is:  there may be no genre to speak of, but there does seem to be a distinct twenty øne piløts.)
• I hear the influence of the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Anthony Kiedis in some of the vocal stylings, most notably in some of the rapping and in some of the expressive vocal affectations.  It strikes me more as homage than as imitation, and it’s only a portion of Joseph’s vocal palette, but the influence seems obvious.
• As to that, I would be curious to know if Joseph does most or all of the vocals on the recording.  If so, I’m pretty impressed with his “head-voice” / falsetto range, and in his choices to lean on it musically, rather than as a “look at me!” gimmick.
• “The Hype” reminds me strongly of Oasis, which for all its eye-rolling rock-band drama, did have some memorable riffs.
• “Neon Gravestones” starkly abandons all subtlety in its closing lyric soapbox…but, on reflection, it does come across as more authentic than preachy, and that’s not an easy thing to pull off.  I need to dig into the lyrical content more here, but between the content message I believe I’m hearing (again: first listen), the deliberate “breaking the fourth wall” on the production side, and the introspective/inward-looking point of view of the whole observation in the first place, it seems to be a tasteful foray into very tricky territory.
• The grounding motif to “Nico and the Niners” seems to me to absolutely scream its nods to The Police, particularly “Spirits in the Material World”.  The opening ukulele part, both in its chord voicings and syncopations, is very much a Summers-flavored reggae… The lyric entry in triplets against the main, already-syncopated rhythm, is so very Sting… And the initial entry of the drumkit being only on the hi-hat is very much like Copeland, famous for providing rhythm using “only” hi-hat or bass drum… None of this is a complaint, mind you, but the influence is striking. What’s cool about it is that the piece then ventures well beyond simple homage, and asserts its own identity as something new and apart.
• “Bandito” reminded me oddly of a couple of moments on the Porcupine Tree (yes, Porcupine Tree) record Fear of a Blank Planet.
• I find myself liking many of the musical transitions within the arrangements—some of which are pretty unconventional. Clearly this is a group willing to take some risks in its writing, and that always earns my respect, even with music that doesn’t speak to me personally.
• I cannot yet speak specifically to lyrical content overall, but I think it may deserve some further attention. It is my wont to listen first to the overall presentation and effect of a new piece of music, then to instruments and orchestration, then to voice and vocal orchestration, and only then to lyrical content–and then only if such is worthwhile. (It doesn’t have to be, if it doesn’t pretend to be.) Over the last few decades now, I have become admittedly jaded with musical artists regularly shoveling out partisan lyrical tripe, rationalizing it to be profound, and I confess that even to this day it is still very easy for me to just ignore most lyrics. This of course is a risk on my part, of missing something important, and my very late awakening (just last year) to the Jung-ian, introspective, human-condition approach that Tool takes to lyrics has served as a refreshing reminder not to ignore too much. On my first listen to Trench, I do believe I am hearing some things that are indeed worth a little more scrutiny–and intend to do so.

Again, in the end I am left wanting to hear more, and that’s saying something in itself. (After all, there’s no way I could ever hope to keep up with all the music I already know is great.) It’s not that I had true expectations one way or the other–I take the “empty vessel” idea, in listening, very seriously–but this is not music I would have likely found on my own, and it employs several tropes which historically have not held much appeal for me. So, it would have been no surprise at all, if I didn’t find much to identify with.

But I did. And I suspect there’s more available there, if I look. I intend to do that.

Thanks, girls.

_________________________________
* This is an interesting item in and of itself, which I think is important. Cathy has graciously provided all three of the kids a useful degree of autonomy in cultivating their own set of Pandora radio stations, which have effectively expanded their musical palette in a way I would have loved to have available when I started listening actively myself. What used to require physically browsing music stores, radio, and concerts, in physically different places, now can be largely achieved anywhere and at any time, simply by clicking preferences within the taxonomy. Now…we can of course discuss the myriad flaws with modern streaming services, but there is nonetheless something about the active involvement of developing a station over time, that parallels the old-school style of seeking new music, and provides much of its value. (Yes, there is an important value in the depth of one’s investment in any sort of seeking, but that doesn’t entirely offset the core value of effectively being exposed to a broader landscape, a bigger palette. If your musical mind is truly open to new discovery, the ease of getting there is a far less significant matter.)

‘We learn in spirals.’

Look, I’m a nerd at heart, and so I confess to watching a great number of music theory-related clips on YouTube. “Cain’t hep it” and all. And I like roving around. Here at Craftygrass, I know I’ve posted about superstuds Rick Beato and Adam Neely before, but I’ve enjoyed a number of others too, and frankly I’m impressed at how many there are out there that are really good. (I can only imagine how many more I don’t know about!) The quickest shout-outs for the truly nerdy bits would include 12tone, Jens Larsen, and the subject of this post, Tommaso at MusicTheoryForGuitar. I happened across this clip today:

And in it, I found one of the greatest mental images for teaching anything, not just music theory, that I have yet run across:

We don’t learn in a linear way. We learn in spirals.

He develops this simple idea by talking about how, in a nerdy topic like music theory, it’s inevitable that we will circle back around to a given topic (e.g., how to construct a major triad) after we use our initial understanding as a building block to go learn other tidbits. But, when we get back to that original topic, we’re not “circling”, we’re “spiraling”, since our understanding of the topic is deeper now.

pop! [the sound of the brain registering the clarity of this image]

And an even more mic-drop way of looking at it is that the topic, itself, is unchanged, but we are changed, as we spiral past it each time we come back.

The whole video itself is useful and worthy of the bookmark, but this tidbit–“we learn in spirals”–is just astonishingly good.

If nothing else, it does rather validate my own childish joy in deliberately revisiting topics “I already know”, to find further meaning and secrets. After all, Crafties worldwide can appreciate the wisdom of Hellboy #1, Tom Redmond, when he says

Don’t tell my wife
I know C major for shit

Exactly right. I’ll happily keep spiraling away for a lifetime, and never tire of seeing something I hadn’t noticed before.