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Soul
Setting
Like one of those heartrending break-ups that seems to go on forever because it's so hard to let go of a good thing, Papa's Soul Kitchen will finally finish out the last chapter in their six-year history with one last big-ass show. Formed and named after Papa of Papa's Soul Food on 11th, Papa's Soul Kitchen has supercharged audiences up and down the I-5 corridor with their high-energy, hip hop-influenced funk for years. More recently, the band members took some time off to "see if the spark of the music would come back," Papa said. "It did, but in a different direction." Lately he says his own songs have been more along the lines of blues, "a little more laid-back and heartfelt." Other members of the band, which includes John Kalney on drums, Snooky on bass, Franky J on guitar, Nasty Wonders on sax, and DJ Billy, have also been working on their own side projects. Well-known locally for their off the hook, high-energy shows, Papa said the band members are really looking forward to making this last show their biggest and best: "Just one great big party like Papa's Soul Kitchen shows usually turn out," he said. Expect to hear crowd favorites like "Coochie Bone" and "Shorty Da Pimp" among others. They'll even be recording the show for a live album. And with these guys, live is where it's at.
Baring
Her Soul
Scanning Mary Gauthier's face is a study of angles. The powerful lines of high cheekbones run parallel to the equally strong lines of her jaw, drawing your gaze toward her eyes — striking, cool, pale blue. Staring at the photographs, you might find yourself searching those angles, looking into those eyes, trying to find something to explain the stark nakedness of her music with its beautiful poetry and harrowing images. Do you see loneliness and despair, the lava field of simmering anger on which she has built the foundation for so many of her songs? Or do you see the juxtaposition of those things with the light in her eyes; the fragments of hope, peace and wisdom she has fought so hard to find? At 35, far too old for a mainstream music industry that's more focused on T&A than soul and talent, Gauthier found her muse and started turning her own brutal history into songs so gripping the first lines take your breath away like a punch to the gut. Now all of a sudden, she has been discovered. With the release of her fourth album, Mercy Now, this 40-something, lesbian, recovering alcoholic, blah, blah, blah, is the hot, new story, her life and music neatly boxed in pages that rehash the same old history. And Gauthier is sick of it. "You've got to talk about all that because it happened and it's what got me to the songs today," she said, not bothering to disguise her irritation at the question. "But everyone wants to sensationalize it. It's about the music, not about stealing a car. That was 15 years ago, and that's a long time to be talking about the same old stuff. It's the art that matters to me." Gauthier uses simple words, everyday words, stringing them together to create a rhythm and a cadence that evokes images more powerful than the words themselves. Those words could stand alone, or next to those of Poe or Plath. Even without the moan of harmonica that sends chills up your spine, without the drum that beats like a death knell, without the spare melodies coaxed from the strings of the guitar, her words alone are pure poetry and storyline. And she uses these images to transport you to places filled with pain, despair, and more recently, hope. Her fans tell her they connect to her music, with its slow, molasses-in-winter drone, because it's real. "I try not to have any affectation," Gauthier said. "I just try to reveal in a way that people can hear. I try to get the words to sing the way they feel, and the melodies to match the emotions and the words." Perhaps people are drawn to her life story and her songs because in them they can see their own redemption. Or maybe they connect to them because unlike most of us, Gauthier is willing to wander through the caverns of her own personal hell, a detached observer, mining for the gold of truth.
Mother
of Riddim
Mother Culture. Carol East. Black Cinderella. I-SIS. Sister Carol is known by many names. And within the world of reggae and its subgenre of dancehall, she is the embodiment of the conscious spiritual voice, celebrating the goddess and empowering women and men with socially aware messages that lift all people up at the expense of none. Born and raised in the ghettos of Kingston, Jamaica, Sister Carol moved with her family to Brooklyn at 14. By her early 20s she was performing in the thriving dancehall scene. One of only a few women in an extremely male-dominated musical culture, Sister Carol quickly rose to the top as one of the hottest new performers on the strength of her powerful rapid-fire lyrics and ability to meld the current styles of dancehall and rocksteady. Since I first saw her at SOB's in New York in 1993, she has been the one voice in dancehall reggae that I connected to, primarily due to the positivity of her message. From her Grammy-nominated 1996 release Lyrically Potent to her more recent work like 1999's ISIS: The Original Rasta Womb-man, an album incorporating a spiritual lesson into each of its 16 songs, her strong emphasis on peace, love and unity sets the overall tone for her lyrical and rhythmic innovation. Dealing with everything from HIV and police brutality to abusive relationships and love, she spins sometimes harsh social realities inside messages of peace and hope conveyed through witty, powerful lyrics and her rich, strong voice. She is also one of the most significant and influential performers in reggae today.
A
Band, Minus the Band
Scott McCaughey has been the driving force behind The Minus 5 since he founded the band in 1993. You can call him singer, songwriter and instrumentalist. But don't call on him to name all the artists who've played with M5 in studios and on the road since the '90s. "I have no idea. There's been at least 100 [artists] who've played live and on records," says McCaughey (pronounced McCoy). Think 100 artists is a lot to play with over 13 years? That number doesn't take into account McCaughey's time with the Young Fresh Fellows or a little band called R.E.M. (Perhaps you've heard of them?) "With R.E.M., I play bass, guitar and keyboard. I'm just trying to flush out the songs," says McCaughey. "With The Minus 5, I'm standing up there at the microphone yelling at the audience. [Michael] Stipe's doing all the relating to the audience with R.E.M." McCaughey doesn't limit himself to bass, guitar, keyboard, vocals and songwriting (because, ya know, that would be taking the easy way out); he also plays the vibraphone, the mandolin and "kind of a little of everything." "I'll pretty much give anything a go," he says. "I'm a pretty crappy drummer, but I'll get behind 'em for a laugh." As different as his roles in the bands are, his approach to creating music with them is equally disparate. McCaughey might be on one of his long walks in Portland, or behind the wheel, or doing just about anything when lyrics or a song idea strike him. "I'll take a song any way I can get it. If I could write a song hanging from the ceiling, I'd be hanging from the ceiling." For this stop in Eugene, McCaughey is pretty sure he'll be playing with The Minus 5. "I'm pretty good at keeping that straight," he says. The Minus 5 will be at Sam Bond's, and, peep this: There's a super-saucy special guest starting an hour before the advertised starting time of 9 pm,
Indie Wake-Up Call
So many indie rock bands have cluttered up the scene nowadays with music characterized by guitar riffs straight out of the garage, someone who can (barely) tap a few notes on a keyboard and a "singer" who sounds like he's been chugging gravel for the past 20 years. It makes me sick. So when I heard about this band from New York called Action Action that's supposed to be putting Ric Ocasek and Robert Smith to shame, I scoffed at the idea. Upon listening to their new album, An Army of Shapes Between Wars, however, I realize that they won't be making just those two jealous. They bring nerdy surf-rock back with a vengeance, channeling the very essence of early Weezer, and layer other songs over with synths, strings and atmospheric noises that would make Phil Spector giddy with excitement. "It is kind of a wall of sound, now that I think about it," says singer Mark Thomas Kluepfel, "and the whole point of it is now we just want to be really fucking loud … we'll see what happens. We might even try some reggae or hard rock, who knows." An Army of Shapes has its soft moments as well, all-synth features mixed with wailing vocals. But overall it just sounds like a bunch of dudes having a lot of fun with experimentation. Their most recent music video for the single "The Game" features the band flying around in a spaceship and landing at Times Square. If that isn't an in-your-face to the rest of the depressed indie scene, I don't know what is. Action Action, Men, Women & Children, Ahimsa Theory and Something For Rockets play Thursday, Feb. 23 at 9:00 pm at the WOW Hall. $8 adv/$10 dos. — Dan Hoyt
In the Round with Cruso, Kelley, Cutean
Carolyn Cruso speaks two musical languages— singing while accompanying herself on guitar and solo instrumental hammered dulcimer. "I have these two ways that I can express myself and two ways that I can connect with people," said Cruso. "Sometimes there's just things you can't put into words and sometimes there's just things you need to say!" Cruso lived in Seattle for several years before recently trading the city hurry-scurry for life on Orcas Island. "It's stunning, and we have a lot of artists here of all types so it's a very vibrant community," she said. Cruso will soon leave Orcas for a three-week West Coast tour, stopping at Luna for "Songwriters in the Round" with TR Kelley and Brian Cutean. Released in November 2005, Cruso's newest CD, Boundless, features her original instrumental hammer dulcimer compositions. (A hammer dulcimer is struck with a wooden stick as opposed to strumming.) Inspiration for the title Boundless came from her expressive hammer dulcimer work. "I really have taken the hammer dulcimer to some new places pretty much my whole career but specifically with this CD," explained Cruso. "Just pushing the edges of what people tend to think of a hammered dulcimer," when often Renaissance or Old World music is expected. Carolyn Cruso performs as part of Songwriters in the Round 8 pm Sunday, Feb. 26 at Luna. Sliding scale, $5-$10. — Vanessa Salvia
Cheaply Produced, But Still Funky Hip hop is in one hell of a transitional phase right now. While "pimps and ho's" trend whores still litter the MTV pop world, the underground is receiving a swell of new thought-provoking MCs and groups breaking the stereotype and pushing the genre as real lyrical poetry. Sweatshop Union happens to be one of those groups. The seven-man Canadian collaboration takes a battle axe (no pun intended on their label, Battle Axe Records) to the face of rap today. On their most recent record, United We Fall, they attack everything from politics to culture. The song "Broken Record" rips the war in Iraq, racism on the home front and today's pop scene. The album also features more humorous subjects such as the white-collar Office Space work hell and, on the song "Cut Back (Since June)," a flurry of rhymes about drinking and the pace of touring. And as if Canada wasn't showing the U.S. enough about how it gets done with rap already, the guys are touring with Swollen Members, the best-selling hip hop group in the history of the Great White North. Swollen Members are set to drop their latest bomb, Black Magic, as well and will be performing several new tracks that they declare are "a return to the dark signature sound they have become synonymous with" on their myspace.com page. Here's hoping both of these groups blow away people with their fresh new beats. Sweatshop Union, Swollen Members, Money Shot and Red Dragon's Skateboard Party (The Movie) play at 9 pm Sunday, Feb. 26 at the WOW Hall. $10 adv./$12 dos. — Dan Hoyt
Back to Blues Kelly Joe Phelps is hoping to be struck by a whirlwind when he hits the stage at Luna March 2. The whirlwind Phelps seeks is the metaphorical one referred to in the title of his 2005 CD Tap the Red Cane Whirlwind, a solo concert album that showcases Phelps' ability to hold an audience in rapt attention, just him, his guitar and his folksy blues-tinged singing. "'Tap the Red Cane' is my attempt to describe what performing is to me," Phelps said in a recent phone interview. "It's like walking blind into a storm. Every performance, I try to go in blind and hope I will walk into an energized situation that I can improvise in." Earlier in his career, Phelps' virtuosity on the slide steel guitar pegged him as a blues artist, a designation that sticks with him to this day. But Phelps, now, has fashioned his work in the mode of a singer/songwriter, and though he's still a master guitarist, he says he's a musician who rarely thinks of music while writing his songs. "Of the 100 percent that is my music, 80 percent of it is just old-fashioned writing, filling notebooks. And of that 80 percent, maybe 60 percent is working that writing around, hoping some lyric might emerge that I can start working with." Phelps' songs are generally story sketches about some interesting character he has encountered on the road, brief short stories that he then sets to music, which is largely improvised. His fluid guitar work weaves through the narrative, providing commentary and color. It's not so much a melody as a third organically flowing dimension in the song. "I let the rhythm of the words suggest the melodies," Phelps said. "But I like to leave a lot of room for improvisation in performance. You will probably never hear me play the song the same exact way twice. It has a melodic foundation, but my focus is the lyrics. They never change." Phelps' emphasis on writing has only one real drawback. He doesn't write songs on the road, but he is on the road for much of the year. So new albums don't come out as often as his fans might like. "On the other hand, that lets my ideas simmer a long time," Phelps said. "And I do work lyrics around on the road. Driving to a concert I'll work some of those 60 percent lyrics around in my head. But to really work them into a song takes at least two uninterrupted weeks." Kelly Joe Phelps taps the whirlwind 8 pm Thursday, March 2 at Luna. $15 adv/ $18 dos. — John Ginn
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