Tag Archives: No Depression

Luis Gustavo Alvarez: A Ground Zero American Hero

I’ve never considered submitting a weekly music column to No Depression to be hard work. Given the latitude I’m given to cover basically whatever pops into my mind rather than being assigned a particular topic, it’s rarely been too difficult to come up with something that hopefully readers will find of interest. On a few occasions I’ve gone off the beat, straying into areas or events that are topical and in the news, and perhaps at times controversial. I’ve gotten feedback from many folks to “just stick to the music”. Sometimes I try but No I can’t.

I’ve been troubled these past few weeks, or maybe a deep funk would be a better way to describe it. I can pinpoint the first time I felt the knot in my stomach; it was around the Fourth of July. A man had just died of cancer, and his obituary said it was linked to the three months he spent at ground zero of the 9/11 attacks searching for survivors and bodies that he helped pull out of the toxic soil. Luis Gustavo Alvarez was only 53 years old.

After he graduated high school in 1983, Alvarez joined the Marines, and after serving he attended classes at City College in New York. He joined the NYPD in 1990 and was a detective in the narcotics division when we were attacked on Sept. 11, 2001. The New York Times‘ obituary noted that before he retired in 2010 he was recognized five times for his excellent police work. He then took a job with the Department of Homeland Security, until he was diagnosed with cancer and it became too debilitating to continue.

Two and a half weeks before he passed away, Alvarez went to Washington, DC, to testify before the House Judiciary Committee and urge them to continue offering health benefits to first responders who have fallen ill. “I did not want to be anywhere else but ground zero when I was there,” he said at the hearing. “Now the 9/11 illnesses have taken many of us, and we are all worried about our children, our spouses and our families and what happens if we are not here.” (Fox News)

Luis Gustavo Alvarez was born in Cuba. He was an immigrant who came to America, became a citizen, served his country, and was a hero to many for his efforts. And at death’s doorstep he had to plead in front of the politicians in Washington to put forth what should be the simplest, most nonpartisan, no-brainer effort: Give aid to the survivors. The House passed its bill to extend funding for the 9/11 Victims Compensation Fund, but a vote on the Senate measure was blocked by Sen. Rand Paul, who cited cost concerns.

Less than two weeks after Alvarez’s death, our House of Representatives voted to condemn the president of our country for using racist language. Using his favorite communication tool, he had lashed out at four Democratic women of color — Reps. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York, Ilhan Omar of Minnesota, Ayanna Pressley of Massachusetts, and Rashida Tlaib of Michigan — tweeting that they should “go back” to their home countries despite the fact that all four of the women are US citizens and three were born in this country.

Back on Labor Day in 1980, when Republicans were conservative but not yet the xenophobic white nationalist party of today, candidate Ronald Reagan stood with the Statue of Liberty in the background and said this about immigrants:

“These families came here to work. They came to build. Others came to America in different ways, from other lands, under different, and often harrowing conditions, but this place symbolizes what they all managed to build, no matter where they came from or how they came or how much they suffered. They helped to build that magnificent city across the river. They spread across the land building other cities and towns and incredibly productive farms. They came to make America work. They didn’t ask what this country could do for them but what they could do to make this refuge the greatest home of freedom in history. They brought with them courage, ambition, and the values of family, neighborhood, work, peace, and freedom. They came from different lands but they shared the same values, the same dream.”

In January 2018, the current Republican president shared his thoughts on immigration:

“Why are we having all these people from shithole countries come here?”

Ask Luis Gustavo Alvarez, an immigrant and true American hero.

This was originally published as an Easy Ed’s Broadside column at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music’s website.

Many of my past columns, articles, and essays can be accessed here at my own site, therealeasyed.com. I also aggregate news and videos on both Flipboard and Facebook as The Real Easy Ed: Americana and Roots Music Daily. My Twitter handle is @therealeasyed and my email address is easyed@therealeasyed.com

The Aging of The Americana Music Audience

CC0 1.0 Universal/Public Domain Dedication

Since moving to New York from California almost seven years ago, I’ve been to a number of music venues in the city, but last week was my first time at the Mercury Lounge, which is down in the East Village. When I looked at the roster of upcoming events over a three-month period, the only names I recognized were Juliana Hatfield and Molly Tuttle. It was the latter whose show I attended, and the booking seemed to make sense since it’s a great little club for seeing a musician up close and the acts and audience skew to a young demographic. Since Tuttle is only 26, my expectation was that at age 67 I would be the oldest person in the room. As it turned out, I was not.

Looking over at last week’s Americana Music Association’s playlist chart, Tuttle is likely one of the youngest artists listed, while the rest are pretty much evenly split between those in their 30s and 40s and the “heritage musicians,” ranging from Steve Earle to Mavis Staples at the upper end of the age demographic. What’s missing from the chart are many of the musicians and bands who might appear at festivals, major events such as AmericanaFest or Folk Alliance, or small clubs, coffeehouses or house concerts. There is also very little American roots music diversity in the sub-genres of blues, gospel, soul, folk, singer-songwriters, Ameripolitan, and bluegrass, nor many people Tuttle’s age. That’s not a fault with the AMA or their charts, it’s just representative of the reporting radio stations and the limitation of having only 50 slots.

The question sort of nagging at me is why Molly Tuttle plays to an audience of mostly grandparents, and what it might say to both the sustainability and growth of this style of music. While I know there is sizable group of Gen Z and millennial musicians playing and recording our favorite genre and attending fiddle camps and music schools like Berklee in Boston, I wonder why their contemporaries aren’t buying tickets to their concerts? While I understand that not many can afford the annual Cayamo cruise —neither can I, for that matter — a ticket to see Tuttle at the Mercury was only $15, and that included Dee White as the opener.

Being a numbers dude, I have navigated through my share of statistical reports on the listening and ticket purchasing habits of various demographics and genres. Not surprising, there isn’t much reported on our type of music, as it’s dwarfed by the “big box” mentality of the music industry. But I can tell you one thing: It’s not that younger people don’t spend money for concerts. Last year Ed Sheeran had the highest gross ever recorded for a touring artist in a single year, and if you add in Taylor Swift at number two, they accounted for 14% of all major worldwide tour ticket sales, for a total of $777,000,000 in revenue.

American roots music, and perhaps its worldwide counterparts as well, are likely going through something similar to what blues and jazz music have experienced in the past 10 years. You hear little if any on non-satellite radio, music streams are about one percent or less of the entire genre pie chart, clubs have shut down in record numbers, and it is rapidly becoming an historic music form. Jazz has fared a bit better, as younger artists are fusing their skills with hip-hop and going beyond the traditional, festivals are on the upswing, there is a growing international audience, and it’s being introduced into music education programs through grants and donations.

If I had a voice loud enough to be heard, I might suggest that what’s missing from Americana and roots music is visionary leadership and unification. An entity that could reach out to all the various organizations under the “big tent,” to what I call the “Alphabets and Foundations”: AMA, FAI, JAI, IBMA, GMA, SGA, AFM, TTMA, NAME, CAAPA, AAIM, NSAI, SESAC, both The Blues and Rhythm and Blues Foundations along with the hundreds of regional alliances, festivals, club owners, educational organizations, publications, and websites. If you want to keep a genre of music fresh and innovative, and not just an historic format for the few, it’ll require outreach, clear goals, inclusion, and funding. A tall order, but someone out there might get what I’m suggesting and be able to bring clarity to my vision.

Meanwhile, back at the Mercury Lounge, I chose not to stand in line an hour before showtime and sat across the street outside a local market eating a healthy dinner of fruit, nuts, and seeds. Just before the lights went out and Dee White took the stage for a killer set of classic-style country, I navigated my way to the front of the stage. The lights went down and I was surrounded by seniors with iPhones in hand. What is up with that? I’ll never understand the need to watch and make a blurry video of a concert through a five-inch screen with awful sound. Is it to remind them where they were in case they forget, or is the frantic drive to post on Facebook or YouTube a fractured version of getting their 15 minutes of fame? I stand with Bob Dylan and Jack White on this subject: Keep the devices in your pocket and silent. Guitarists such as myself who came to witness Tuttle’s flying fingers were not disappointed, although bluegrass junkies probably didn’t understand that she’s got a tight and loud electric band backing her. And the thing is … people her own age? They would have loved it.

This was originally posted an an Easy Ed’s Broadside column at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music’s website.

Many of my past columns, articles, and essays can be accessed here at my own site, therealeasyed.com. I also aggregate news and videos on both Flipboard and Facebook as The Real Easy Ed: Americana and Roots Music Daily. My Twitter handle is @therealeasyed and my email address is easyed@therealeasyed.com.

Americana and Roots Music Videos: RPM 7

Photo by Dong Cheol/Pixabay License

An occasional series of Americana and roots music videos. Sharing new discoveries, and revisiting old friends.

Since I began posting my seasonal review of mostly new music videos, an interesting shift has occurred. In the past I’ve often used live performances from providers such as Folk Alley, KEXP, Austin City Limits, Paste, NPR, Under the Apple Tree, and The Bluegrass Situation, to mention just a few good sources. But late last year the recording industry nonprofit IFPI published the findings of its global Music Consumer Insight Report, which found that 47 percent of time spent listening to on-demand music is now happening on YouTube. That may explain the sharp increase in both artist and label-funded videos that go beyond the basic two-camera live setup and into more artistic and elaborate productions.

While the three major music-only streaming platforms are becoming the clear winners in delivery to the masses, in order for an artist to make a thousand dollars, their song needs to be heard something like one million times. On the other hand, YouTube offers a potentially lucrative opportunity to those who are interested in not only sharing their music, but also building their brand and developing followers. Niche genres such as Americana music, and all that fits under that umbrella term, might actually benefit more than others. A quick story before I jump into the clips.

A young woman I know began posting quite silly non-music videos several years ago, while she was in high school, that usually lasted about five minutes, were shot by herself on her iPhone, and focused on games, comic books, fashion, and pop culture. At age 22 she now has over two million rabid followers and earns six figures per year through ad revenue. Can’t say that can happen to every old-time stringband, folksinger, country band, blues musician, or singer-songwriter, but it’s certainly something to ponder.

J.S. Ondara: “Torch Song”

Since releasing his debut album Tales of America last February, a 26-year-old has landed an Americana Music Association nomination in the emerging artist category, toured extensively, and just landed a few opening slots for Neil Young. After winning a green card lottery six years ago that allowed him to move to the United States, Nairobi-born folksinger J.S. Ondara settled down near Minneapolis, learned to play guitar from scratch, and scored a major label album deal. A Dylan freak who learned most of his lyrics while a teen in Kenya, Ondara has studied American folk music and made a mark in the States by playing open mics and showcasing his fashion sense with vintage suits.

Ordinary Elephant: “The War”

Crystal and Pete Damore met at an open mic in Texas in 2009 and were each working in successful non-music careers: she as a veterinary cardiologist and he as a computer programmer. The short story is that they got bitten by the creative bug and Crystal quit her job, they bought an RV, and they hit the road and started to play wherever they could. Pete was able to continue working since he wasn’t chained to a desk and they’ve been blessed. Performing and recording under the name Ordinary Elephant, they were named 2017 Artist of the Year at the International Folk Music Awards last year. Crystal handles lead vocals and acoustic guitar, while Pete plays clawhammer banjo and sings harmony. The clip above is from their latest album titled Honest, and I’d also recommend checking out their first, Before I Go.

Emily Scott Robinson: “Borrowed Rooms” and “Old Wooden Floors, and The Dress”

Another RV-traveling singer-songwriter who took to the road with her husband, Emily Scott Robinson has received an incredible amount of press and rave reviews for her studio debut album Traveling Mercies. A native of North Carolina, she claims to have already done over a quarter million miles of driving across the country since she began her career in 2015. Along the way she’s won several awards, starting with American Songwriter, a Kerrville New Folk Winner trophy in 2016, and a Wildflower Performing Songwriter Contest win the following year. Much of the press about her is about the song “The Dress,” which speaks to a sexual assault that occurred when she was 22.

Justin Townes Earle: “Frightened by the Sound”

Here’s a confession that I never thought I’d share: With each year that passes, I find myself looking forward to the next album from the son rather than the father. Ten years ago when I started listening to Justin‘s music and following him on social media, it felt as though he might not make it past his 30th birthday. In 2010, after a nasty public fight at a club, he entered rehab, not for the first time, and it seems to have kicked his butt down a better path. He was married in 2013, they had a baby four years later, and today he releases The Saint of Lost Causes, his ninth album.

Molly Tuttle: “Cold Rain and Snow” and “Once More”

I got my first chance to see Molly Tuttle live and up close, and it would be an understatement to say that she and her band were exceptional beyond my expectation. The small Mercury Lounge in the East Village of New York City was sold out, and about 150 of us were stacked up like sardines inside a can. It was, how should I say it, a mature crowd who seemed to be full of guitar hero worshippers, after-work daters, and those who prefer to view their concert experience through the screens of their iPhones. While the videos above and below are acoustic, Tuttle’s touring band rocks. About “Once More”: Molly’s brother Sully, who is also an amazing and rapid-fire picker, is a member of A.J. Lee and Blue Summit, a great acoustic stringband in Northern California. Last Father’s Day Molly and Angelica Grim joined A.J. for some fine harmony, supported by the band.

Four Year Bender: “Annalee”

This song is off the band’s second album and features lead singer and songwriter Ryan Smith. As a well-known Bay Area-based band, their career was cut short by Smith’s alcoholism and addiction, which spanned ten years. After recovery, it took him two years to open the guitar case and begin writing again. The result is Gettin’ Gone, 11 songs recorded with his longtime collaborator Michael Winger. There’s some good stuff here.

Son Volt: “Devil May Care”

Union, Son Volt‘s ninth album, is a political statement about our times in addition to just being another great album from the band. Three of the songs were recorded at the Mother Jones Museum in Mount Olive, Illinois, and four others at the Woody Guthrie Center in Tulsa, Oklahoma. It got some rough reviews — American Songwriter gave two out of five stars — but I beg to differ. I’ve always been more Farrar than Tweedy when it came to the Uncle Tupelo split, so maybe I’m just a bit biased. But don’t let it slip away without checking it out.

And Now for Something Completely Different …

This was originally posted as an Easy Ed’s Broadside column at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music’s website.

Joan Baez: A Fond Farewell To The Road

Beacon Theater, May 2019 Image by Easy Ed

While I know many people enjoy reading about concerts after they’ve happened, I find the prequel more interesting to write about. And so it is that I find myself furiously keypunching away at this week’s column because in just a few hours I will hop on a train, travel on two subway lines, walk three blocks, wind my way through an elaborate security check, flash a ticket on my iPhone, enter the theater, walk up the stairs to the balcony, make myself as comfortable as I can in the narrow row, and spend a few hours listening to what will likely be the final concert in New York City from Joan Baez. And I only say likely because, well … you never know.

It’s a little difficult to track down who created the concept of a farewell concert or tour, but perhaps in modern times it was Cream in 1968, and Clapton, Bruce, and Baker pretty much kept to their word for 37 years. In 2005 they played a several shows together in just two cities, putting out an album and DVD. Clapton called it “a fitting tribute to ourselves” and hinted that it was to an opportunity for Bruce and Baker to put some money in the bank as each were having severe health problems.

We all know that The Band staged The Last Waltz in 1976 as their final performance, with a film and soundtrack to mark the occasion, and in six years four of the five members were back in the studio and on the road again. This year there are quite a few artists who are on their second, third, or fourth farewell tours. For example, there’s Elton John, who announced on Nov. 3, 1977, that he was finished with concerts; Ozzy Osborne, who retired 27 years ago; and don’t get me started on The Who: every single tour they’ve done since 1982 has been billed as the final one.

For the past year Joan Baez has been on the road with her Fare Thee Well Tour and she’ll be heading to Europe for her final performances, which will end on July 28 in Madrid, Spain. It’ll come just shy of the 60-year anniversary of her first appearance at the Newport Folk Festival in 1959. I was just 7 years old back then, and it would be several years until I learned who she was. My sister was in her first year of college and going through her folk music and coffeehouse stage, playing Baez’s first album endlessly every single night in her room. I can’t tell you how much her voice grated on my 12-year-old ears, but like everything that is heard repetitively, she soon became comfortable and comforting to me.

In a recent interview with Rolling Stone, Baez said that she’s happier with the phrase “retire from touring” rather than calling it simply retirement, explaining that she will possibly still play from time to time as long as her voice holds out. She hasn’t written songs in 25 years and at the moment doesn’t seem interested in recording another album.

When her tour was first announced I didn’t think it would be something I would be interested in seeing. There’s a bit of sadness at these sort of events, and I felt that even though I’ve never seen her live, I have the memories, images, and music forever etched in my brain. But a few days ago, when I read that she was coming to town this week, I felt a strong gravitational pull to be there. Almost robotically I went online, found an affordable ticket, and bought it in less than a minute. In spiritual terms, it was a calling.

Like a slice of warm blueberry pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top, there are certain songs — and the people who sing them — that bring me great joy and comfort. Joan Baez is one of them. She has been with me for virtually my entire life, and unlike any other musician or performer, with the exception of Pete Seeger, she holds a space deep inside of me that is central to the core of my being. In my mind’s eye I can see her onstage in Newport as a teenager, singing about Joe Hill at Woodstock, linking arms and marching from Selma to Montgomery, playing and speaking at countless benefits and rallies for peace, justice, freedom, jobs, hunger, poverty, the environment, and human rights. She has been a model for composure, thoughtfulness, strength, commitment, and achievement like few others.

And for those reasons I can’t imagine not hopping on a train, traveling on two subway lines, walking three blocks, winding my way through an elaborate security check, flashing a ticket on my iPhone, entering the theater, walking up the stairs to the balcony, making myself as comfortable as I can in the narrow row, and spending a few hours listening to what will likely be Joan Baez’s final concert in New York City. Fare thee well, and thank you.

Postscript: The concert was more than I had anticipated. At seventy-nine I didn’t know what to expect, but Joan’s voice was solid and it soared and her stamina was surreal. The show lasted almost two hours with no intermission and included percussion by her son Gabriel Harris and multi-instumentalist Dirk Powell. It was indeed a fond farewell.

This was originally published as an Easy Ed’s Broadside column at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music website.

Post-Concert Madness at the Merch Table

Festival (Destroy Capitalism), Banksy, 2006

After reading my fellow No Depression columnist Isa Burke’s recent column, The Absolute Truth About Post-Show Conversations, I thought it was a great topic that I might expand on with a slightly different perspective. If you aren’t aware, Isa performs with Eleanor Buckland and Mali Obomsawin in Lula Wiles, a trio who are touring extensively at the moment in support of their album What Will We Do. It is one of my favorite releases of the year and they appear to be a critics favorite who are well deservedly on the verge of breaking out in the folk-roots music-Americana genre. Here’s a musical interlude from them before I dive deeper into the subject at hand.

Isa’s column speaks to her experience as both a fan and performer, sharing the awkwardness one can feel on either side of the merch table. For the past few years I’ve volunteered at a concert series here in New York, and my responsibilities are usually limited to making sure the table looks inviting, offering suggestions to a new fan on what CD they might like to start out with, handling the finances, and quietly remaining out of the way to allow the musicians to connect with members of their audience. Unlike large venues with bigger name acts, we operate less as a T-shirt and CD superstore and more like a space that provides a continuation of the complete concert experience.

It’s a balancing act for many musicians, as many are somewhat uncomfortable with “selling” or even simply holding a brief but meaningful conversation, but the cold reality is that the evening’s profit or loss will likely be determined at the table. I’ve witnessed the good, the bad, and the ugly. The artist who retreats backstage and is either fearful to come out or feels as if their job ended onstage at the final note. Some will focus all their attention and bantering on fellow band members or family and friends, while ignoring the fan holding out a disc or simply their hand to shake. And on the flip side, some fans take zero notice or care of the long line forming behind them and take up too much of an artist’s precious post-show time, when the interest in buying something is at its peak.

In my previous life working in music sales and marketing from the early ’70s until about a dozen years ago, I witnessed the business of music merchandising go from virtually zero to now bringing in over $3 billion dollars per year. What was once a bootleggers paradise out in the parking lot is now likely to be controlled by artist management, who offer services such as design, manufacturing, and licensing in addition to all the other expected functions. And as revenue from music sales has dwindled, larger record labels have transformed themselves by offering a smorgasbord of services that includes marketing an artist’s merchandise and music, of which they take a healthy percentage.

A man who taught me a lot about audiences and merchandising, although not on the level of most Americana-type musicians, was Chip Davis from Mannheim Steamroller. His challenge was a Christmas-based catalog that sells for only six weeks each year, which severely narrowed his window of opportunity. Knowing that most of the people who came to his shows already owned his music, Chip created a broad line of products, from wearables to his famous hot chocolate. He blended a spice rub to create a brand that could be sold year round, and on the table he had items that would run the gamut from a few dollars to hundreds. Knowing that a holiday concert brings out the little ones, he had plenty of candy and kid-sized clothing.

Another person who knew a lot about the buying habits of their audience was Garth Brooks. While you wouldn’t see him after the show, for many years he would do afternoon “meet and greets” at the local Walmart near where he was playing. He had the ability to stay laser-focused on the person in front of him, and he’d take the time to give everyone the opportunity to create a special experience that they’d treasure forever. Unlike some musicians who would only sign an autograph if you bought something, Garth could care less. He knew that the time he invested in people would yield a lifelong fan base, and I also believe that he took from it as much as he gave.

Bringing it back down to the musicians in this genre, most of whom play primarily at small to midsize venues and on the festival circuit, I’ve got a few thoughts based on what I’ve seen through the years.

For musicians: Don’t overcharge for your music. While it may seem to you as if 15 bucks for a disc is a fair price, remember that most of your audience already owns it. And more are streaming it. So they’re looking for a souvenir or maybe a gift for someone. The band that I’ve seen take home the most money on any given night was one that had no price tags on anything. They have a “pay whatever you want” policy, and it works beyond belief. Others do well with a “three for $20” approach on discs, especially if there’s a number of titles in their catalog. And while it varies by audience, unless you’re Jason Isbell, Lucinda Williams, or Wilco, you probably won’t sell many expensive wearables. Skip the tees and sweatshirts and think small. More options at lower prices can earn you a better payday.

And for fans: I wish there were an app on everyone’s phone that allowed you to tip a musician or band that you’ve just finished listening to. Instead of just walking by the merch table on your way to the parking lot, you could send them a ten spot and they could respond with that evening’s set list or a link to a private fan page on their website. And for you folks who want to buy something or just simply want to meet the musicians, be polite, keep it brief, know that cash is preferred and don’t keep it buried too deep in your wallet or purse. Time is money, as they say, so y’all please do your part in creating less madness at the merch table.

Thanks again to Isa for the inspiration, and let’s close this column out with another Lula Wiles clip.

This was originally published as an Easy Ed’s Broadside column at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music’s website.

Easy Ed’s Broadside Outtakes #11

R Crumb, cover art: Blues: Great Harmonica Performances of the 1920s and ’30s (Yazoo, 1976)

Easy Ed’s Broadside column has been a fixture for over ten years at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music’s website. These are odds and ends, random thoughts and fragments never published.

New Release Spotlight

This week Steve Earle releases his tribute to mentor Guy Clark and Rolling Stone Country has published an interview. (Photo by Tom Bejgrowicz) Heres the intro but click this link to get to the full story:

Earle has been closely linked to Clark since 1974, when they first crossed paths in Nashville. The following year, he contributed backing vocals to Clark’s debut masterpiece Old No. 1 — singing on “Desperados Waiting for a Train” with Rodney Crowell, Emmylou Harris and Sammi Smith — and joined his touring band as a bass player. When Earle recorded his first-ever demo to shop around Nashville, he did so in the kitchen of Clark’s modest home in Mt. Juliet, Tennessee, where Guy’s wife Susanna was busy frying bacon.

And here’s a video of three songs and an interview that he did at Paste Studio this week.

The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore

Sad news that Scott Walker has passed on. An American-born 60’s hitmaker who found much greater fame and respect in Britain through the decades, he’s remembered in this article from Amanda Petrusich for the New Yorker. Titled “The Weird and Vast and Periodically Devastating Music of Scott Walker”, I’ll start you off but do click this link to read it in full:

There are a handful of niche artists whom I love to play for friends who have never heard them before. Music critics are infamous for these sorts of overbearing displays—smugly dropping a needle to a record and then staring, expectantly. It’s awful! Yet the first time that a person hears the singer Scott Walker—who died on Friday, in London, at the age of seventy-six—a palpable transformation occurs, and it’s extraordinary to witness.

Praise The Lord…Here Comes Julie and Buddy Miller Again

NPR broke the news that there’s a new album and within the article they share two new songs. Here’s an excerpt but y’all need to click this link to get all the news and hear the tunes:

The public absence of the Miller’s singular, beloved dynamic — she the mischievous empath, he the soulful stoic — has been felt acutely, but their influence on multiple generations of artists in the Americana scene remains profound; it’s evident in never-ending new interpretations of songs from their catalog; in vocal harmonizing that generates warmly affectionate friction rather than a seamless blend; in repertoires that make room for rawboned strains of Appalachian folk and honky-tonk, unguarded, diaristic singer-songwriter confession and the lurching, rhythmic looseness of early R&B and rock and roll.

And just in case you’ve forgotten…

Do You Know What This Is?

Keaton Music Typewriter

It’s the Keaton Music Typewriter, patented in 1936, later updated in 1953 and marketed for under $300. If you’d like to learn more, click this link.

From Tejano To Polkas: Americana Lost and Found

Note: Shameless self-promotion. This is an article I wrote and published a while back for No Depression, and it’s right here on my site now should you care to read it.

Back in the fifties when I was just a little squirt, most Saturday nights were spent at my grandparents’ house, where we ate boiled chicken, played endless card games, and watched television on a small Dumont black and white. It was always the same routine: Lawrence Welk, Jackie Gleason, Gunsmoke, a bowl of cherry Jell-O and then off to bed. Not sure how my older sister escaped these tortuous nights, but while she was out at sock hops dancing with her friends and cruising the parking lot at Bob’s Big Boy on the boulevard, part of my musical DNA was being formed by the sound of Myron Floren’s accordion playing, an Amercan-ized, white-bread version of polka music.

The Story of Bonnie Guitar

Paul Sexton has written an excellent article on the late Bonnie Guitar for uDiscoverMusic and I suggest you go read it here. I’ll kick you off with this:

The woman born Bonnie Buckingham in Seattle on 25 March 1923 is remarkable not only for a recording career that took her into the Billboard pop top ten in 1957 with ‘Dark Moon’ but then into the country top ten on three occasions; then for a parallel executive career in which she co-founded the Dolton label, who made national and international stars of vocal trio the Fleetwoods and instrumental group the Ventures. What’s more, Bonnie was still occasionally playing live into her 90s (as you’ll see from the video at the bottom of the story), before her passing at the age of 95 on 12 January 2019.

The Real Easy Ed: Americana and Roots Music Daily

You probably found this article on my Facebook page with the above name, but if not…please come over and follow me. Throughout each day I try and find interesting articles to post and at the close it’s always a video clip. This was one of the most popular over the last few weeks. Enjoy, and maybe I’ll try and keep this format going.

How Music Scratches A Niche

Pixabay License

Between my weekly column for No Depression, keeping my own website updated, maintaining a digital magazine, and aggregating music news on a Facebook page, I devote about three or four hours each day to scanning headlines, as well as searching for interesting musical tidbits in the less traveled corners of the internet. Perhaps it’s become an obsession, because it’s done not for money but simply for my own sense of curiosity and interest, and the enjoyment of sharing. To be transparent, and this is in no way a complaint but just a fact, if I was to live on my monthly stipend for writing, I’d be living in a cardboard box under a freeway, weigh less than a hundred pounds, and you’d find me at Union Square with three rusted strings on an old busted up guitar, singing the blues out of tune for spare change.

And so it is that I have a regular day job with salary and benefits that keep a roof over my head, food in my belly, one kid in college with the other now on his own, access to exceptional health care, and even a moderate savings account. Now, it’s not at the level when I will ever actually be able to retire and enjoy the so-called “good life” promoted in television advertisements from wealth management institutions, but that is of little concern to me. I am fortunate — knock on wood — to live a frugal and utilitarian lifestyle that allows time to enjoy film, art, music, and books.

For 40 hours each week, I interact with hundreds of people from many walks of life. Rich, poor, young, old, born either here or there with multiple ethnicities and religions, conservative, liberal, apolitical, privileged, just scraping by, in good health, and at the beginning, middle or end of life. While it’s not the sexy fast-paced executive position in music distribution that I once enjoyed over a decade ago, in many ways it’s one of the best jobs I’ve ever had. My days are filled with human interactions, mini-relationships that can last from a minute to several hours for my patrons, and months and years with my associates.

It’s not important what my job is or who I work for, but what I can share is that a large part of my day is talking about music and learning not only what people enjoy listening to, but how they do it. For someone like myself, who has been an avid music collector with the fortune to turn a passion and interest into a career, it’s interesting to get out of my bubble to understand how other people relate to music in their lives. And while I won’t say it has surprised me, personal observation flies into the face of the ideas and statistics that are often touted in the media.

Let me offer some examples. First off, for the majority of the people I meet, music is simply a soundtrack that plays in the background at a very low volume. They don’t necessarily seek it out, but rather accept whatever happens to come up. It’s a push rather than pull experience. Those who actively choose what they listen to will almost always stick to what they know, rarely going out of their lanes. There’s a relatively small percentage of people who actually collect physical music anymore, as most enjoy the ease and variety of satellite radio inside their cars and homes, and are rapidly adapting to subscription streaming. With all the news stories about people who are actively buying and collecting vinyl albums, and an endless parade of new turntables being marketed and promoted, I’m hard pressed to actually meet these people, as they are few and far between. In my experience, it’s just a small bump, folks, not a movement.

The vast majority of urban and suburban twenty-somethings are listening to hip-hop, while for those in rural areas it splits by gender to either bro country and muscular rock, or the lite pop of Katy, Arianna, Taylor, Miley, or whomever. Instagram notoriety supersedes actual musical output; selfies and fashion are now wrapped up in a ribbon of unfulfilled aspirations. When you’re in your 30s and 40s, settling into relationships, careers, and family, the music preferences default to whatever you were listening to in college. I suppose it’s hanging onto your youth and the concept of independence. Once you hit your 50s there seems to be a divide: those that stick with the same old thing and those finally taking the time to color outside the lines. Am I totally stereotyping? Of course. But I’m purposely painting with a wide brush and skipping over the fine-line exceptions because it isn’t about you or me. It’s about the majority of people.

What we call Americana is rolling along quite nicely, but it’s simply a scooter on a highway of long limos and SUVs. You can toss jazz, blues, bluegrass, folk, world, classical, and any number of smaller genres into the same bucket. Put aside for the moment that some young folks have gone to summer music camps, become music majors at college, and now play and/or listen to roots music. To appropriate and re-invent a phrase from Malcolm McLaren, the Sex Pistols’ manager and provocateur: All this scratchin’ is making me niche.

My personal observations should be considered neither dark nor dreary nor musical snobbery, because music brings to everyone enjoyment, emotional attachment, and connectivity to the world around them. And today more than ever before, it is live music that shines most brightly. Putting aside the cost of tickets to see top-tier acts, never before have we seen such a rise in festivals and the ability to discover exceptional performances in unlikely venues from local farmers markets, your neighbor’s living room, or the tavern down the street.

The inability to be financially rewarded from recordings and airplay has resulted in a shift of the paradigm. It’s not unique. From medieval fairs, minstrel and medicine shows, vaudeville, dance shows from American Bandstand to Soul Train, terrestrial radio, player pianos to DAT cassettes and beyond … it’s always changing. With the ease of both creating music and listening to it on an electronic gizmo that fits into the palm of your hand, what we have should be viewed as opportunity, not misfortune. And that serves not only the masses, but you and me. Another way of concluding my essay on the state of music today is that it, well, scratches our niche.

This was originally published as an East Ed’s Broadside column at No Depression: The Journal of Roots Music’s website.