Willie Nelson’s “Sad Songs and Waltzes” and the Art of Alienation

Someday, when the world finally loses Willie Nelson, there will be an eruption of sadness. He is an icon, yet many people will still be shocked at the depth and profundity of his body of work. At this point already, the unbroken length and quality of his career is almost without precedent in American music. He has simply been here so long it seems he has always been here doing what he does. And his music has defied easy categorization, slipping seamlessly between wide varieties of country music, jazz, and American standards. He is probably the artist for whom the term “Americana” was most properly invented. 

Yet his career can be divided into rather neatly-defined stages. For many people, myself included, his most interesting stage is probably his brief stint with Atlantic Records in the early 1970s. Atlantic had just begun a Country division and Nelson was brought in as a cornerstone for that new endeavor. The experiment was not long; Nelson ended up recording only two albums under the Atlantic label, Shotgun Willie and Phases and Stages, but the two albums worked out to be an essential bridge in Nelson’s gradual transformation from a fixture of the Nashville establishment to an iconic Outlaw and the singular artist we know and love today. Without these works, there is no path to Red Headed Stranger or Stardust or the collaborations with Waylon Jennings and Merle Haggard that would come to define Country music in the decades to come. 

Here I want to discuss the simple, singular genius of one song from this period, “Sad Songs and Waltzes” from Shotgun Willie. The song perfectly embodies the artistic maturity gained by Nelson’s long breakup with the Nashville machine. And the hard lessons learned by that process show up in the song’s spare production, which works with its deceptively simple lyrics to show how market economies alienate human beings from themselves and one another. 

“Sad Songs and Waltzes” and Willie Nelson’s Career

Nelson was pushing 40 when Shotgun Willie was released. He was a longtime fixture in the Nashville music business, mainly as a songwriter (he was a hit maker for many other artists, writing songs like “Crazy” for Patsy Cline). As a solo artist himself, however, Nelson was constrained by the producer-centric power structures of The Nashville Sound. His ambitions were too large to be contained for long, however.

Nelson had already experimented musically. For example, he released a beautiful yet enigmatic concept album in 1971 called Yesterday’s Wine, which began the process of pushing his way out of the mold Nashville had formed him in. Eventually, he would leave RCA and Nashville altogether, moving to Austin, Texas and, in that strange mix of bikers, cowboys, and hippies, Willie Nelson as we now know him began to invent himself.

This is the world into which Shotgun Willie, and its third song “Sad Songs and Waltzes” was born.

The Song

With only a single guitar, alternating bass notes between plucky strums to create a (you guessed it) waltz, and backed by a distant steel guitar, the song begins “I’m writing a song all about you. A true song as real as my tears. But you’ve no need to fear it, ‘cause no one will hear it. ‘Cause sad songs and waltzes aren’t selling this year.” 

This utterly simply, yet devastatingly powerful opening tells the whole story. A man, an artist, is betrayed by his love and longs to express it through his art. The power of the marketplace makes this an impossibility. He is left both without a woman and without a song to mourn her absence. This is the purest tragedy. 

Essentially the song, like many country songs,  tells a story about a man who has lost a relationship with a woman. This is a rather normal part of human life, but human relations are flexible and people typically have the ability to craft new relationships in the wake of these breakups. The speaker in this song is deprived of that opportunity. The purpose of his art, the song he sings about writing, is to forge a relationship between him and his audience. His artistic expression is an extension of his humanity, his self. Sadly, this self does not exist outside the controls of the marketplace. His song will remain unsung because “sad songs and waltzes aren’t selling this year.” 

The chorus puts it in even more starkly economic terms. “It’s a good thing that I’m not a star. You don’t know how lucky you are. Though my record may say it, no one will play it. ‘Cause sad songs and waltzes aren’t selling this year.” Perhaps if our singer were more famous he could escape the cage built  for him by the music industry, but he is not. Therefore, any effort to make art from his pain — art that might forge a relationship between him and an audience — is in vain. No one would play it in the first place as it is not marketable. 

One particularly interesting feature of this song is its meta approach to songwriting. It is, in simple terms, a song about a song. This is not a particularly novel concept in itself, with the supreme example probably being the first verse of Leonard Cohen’s ubiquitous “Hallelujah.” “Sad Songs and Waltzes” provides a fascinating twist on the genre, however. This is a song about another song that no one has heard, nor will they, for economic reasons that we will get into in a bit. 

This is not merely clever, it is a formal feature that contributes to the song’s meaning. “Sad Songs and Waltzes” is a song is about alienation. And the singer of this song is so alienated from his personal art that he can only sing about it at a distance. It represents an ultimate form of alienation.

Alienation and Markets

Alienation is a devastating consequence of life lived under the control of markets. This is a central point in the writings of Marx and other critics of capitalism. The moving around of money in the quest to extract profit makes us all, in one way or another, cogs in a capital-producing machine, and Nashville certainly was and remains one of those. 

Like many talented artists working in Nashville, Nelson had been alienated from the fruit of his labor. He was put to work writing songs for other people to sing to create income for his record company. And when we was permitted to record his music himself, it simply wasn’t Willie Nelson as we know him. Seriously, look at his early album covers and try not to laugh at how uncomfortably not Willie Nelson he looks.

And just as Nelson had been forcibly removed from his authentic self, alienation extends beyond our relationships with the products of our labor. It also emerges as a barrier between individuals, interfering with proper relationships among human beings. Forced to sell our labor for wages, other people lose their individual identities and become mere competitors, making human cooperation difficult to achieve. We become, above all, alienated from ourselves and other people on a natural, human level when subjected to the demands of money-making. We lose our status as fully embodied people, having been reduced to a figure in some equation to determine the bottom line. 

Its hard-won wisdom about the human toll that capitalist alienation extracts is what makes “Sad Songs and Waltzes” so beautifully devastating. The betrayed singer is alone and must remain alone because he cannot spin his pain into enough profit for the bean-counters. 

Conclusion

When Shotgun Willie was produced, Nelson had only recently emerged from the Nashville money machine. He had spent years conforming himself to the demands of that industry, stifling his creative self in service of its products. This professional history provides insight into the source of a career frustration that finally exploded into songs like “Sad Songs and Waltzes.”

The move to Austin, a place that was weird and incomprehensible to the logic of the Nashville scene helped break him from his binds. Hanging out with the hippies and hillbillies of that unique and idiosyncratic music scene allowed him to develop something closes to an authentic artistic self and it set the stage for his many career reinventions. He became, in many ways, country music’s best answer to Bob Dylan in this way. 

When he eventually returns to Nashville it is as a bonafide “outlaw” with the rest of that movement largely founded on its rebellion against the Nashville Machine. Waylon Jennings’s “Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way” is a good example of how the Outlaw movement wore an open animosity against how Nashville’s system stifled individual creativity and forced it back down the throat of that very system. Capitalism being what it is of course, Nashville eventually found a way to coerce profit out of the artistic forms that rose up against it, bringing the enemy into the fold as it were. Outlaw Country became the defining sound of 1970s Nashville.

Still, Willie Nelson’s Atlantic Records period serves as an inspiration. It is a moment when an artist well into his career finds the strength to reinvent himself and claim significant ownership over his own art, taking a career full of alienation and molding it into a new form of art that would indeed forge powerful human relationships with a new audience for decades to come. It might even be said that he took a share of the means of production, with the product being Willie Nelson.

A Night with Northlane

Settling in to 170 Russell would have been nice, but as we stepped in at the allocated 6:30 door time we were greeted with the start of Void Of Vision’s set. Sprinting down the stairs and into the room, it was clear that moving the door time forward half an hour had definitely affected the crowd.

A decent audience had streamed in, but nowhere big enough considering the year Void Of Vision has had. Releasing their magnum opus album, Hyperdaze, they have been on an absolute tear, and it was clear during this set that they were going to keep going hard.

Opening up by bringing the heavy early, Void had the room shaking from the world go. An impressive light show and an almighty wall of sound filled the room with layers upon layers of adrenaline. Vocalist Jack Bergin led this assault, bringing as much energy as he possibly could, whilst utilising his seemingly endless amounts of stage presence.

New songs like “Babylon” and “Hole In Me” showcased their new sound, while “Kill All Your Friends” got the pit going like it always does. They finished strong with “Ghost In The Machine” and left their stamp on 170 Russell.

International act Silent Planet were up next. A pretty much completely new band to me, I was immediately impressed by the connection they appeared to have with their audience. From the word go, the pit was open, and everyone in the front few row was singing along with all the passion in the world.

Spoken word vocals mixed with harsh screams ensured that vocalist Garrett kept the audience on their toes. The instrumentals kept up this pace as well, with their hard hitting dark tones unrelentingly assaulting the ears of all listeners (in a good way).

Silent Planet sounded incredibly large all the way through, and definitely would have made themselves some new fans on the night. Their music appeared to be full of themes of mental illness, and political issues, which is absolutely super important in today’s societal climate.

Counterparts were up next. Definitely a well known band, the heavy Canadians immediately made clear the tone of the set announcing themselves with a call of, “Counterparts Schoolies Week Motherfucker.” They launched into their first song and it was immediately clear why they are as acclaimed as they are. Ridiculously tight and sounding stupidly massive, they had fans moving from the second they started playing.

The shit talking between sets would have been the highlight, but the songs themselves made it hard to top. Playing the old classics as well as the new heavy-hitters, there was as much two stepping as there was singing along. Also this was perhaps the first time in history I heard a pitcall of “schoolies 2019 motherfucker open it up,” which was an experience that I’m glad I had.

Dedicating a song to Australia’s very own Trophy Eyes, their massive sound continued unrelentingly. Coming towards the end, the set closed with a wave of crowdsurfers all diving and climbing towards the microphone, trying to get ahold of vocalist Brendan so they could scream his words right back at him. This set was great, and I’m quite sad I personally am not a Counterparts super fan so I couldn’t join in the fun. Next time boys. Next time.

Finally it was time for the big dogs, Northlane. The lights went down and hands went up, ready to go and awaiting the bands arrival impatiently, the audiences cravings would soon be met. Northlane charged onto stage and belted into “Talking Heads.” The movement was huge from the start, and the audience was off their feet and jumping non-stop all the way through.

“Details Matter” was a definite highlight of the set, with the ridiculously massive sound of one of the better songs of 2019 running rampant through 170 Russell. Headbangers were aplenty and moshers were in surplus. This continued even into one of their softer songs, “Rot.” The first song released by the band with vocalist Marcus Bridge, “Rot” went down an absolute treat as always.

Northlane are a ludicrously tight live band, and this became ever more clear as they smashed through “Citizen, “Obelisk”, and “4D.” New party song “Eclipse” had the room shaking as everyone refused to stop bouncing. The set began to come to a close as massive Alien single “Bloodline” was the definite highlight of the show. It has been one of my favourite songs of the year, and this rendition locked that in even more. Cannons and lights were ablaze and firing everywhere, and made this even more of a spectacle.

Leaving stage momentarily, Northlane returned as Marcus came back wearing a big sparkly coat. “Sleepless”, the closing track of the album was incredibly effective and touching live. And was a nice sombre end to the show, right before they launched into the timeless heavy classic, “Quantum Flux.” And goddamn was it massive.

Northlane are one of the best bands out there, and this show only locked that in.

Check out the images from the Northlane show:

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All photos by Albert LaMontagne. Copyright 2019 Albert LaMontagne / Sound the Sirens Magazine. Please do not use or distribute these images without the permission of Albert LaMontagne. If you use these images without permission, you are a terrible person.

Every last time: Revisiting Gameface’s “How Far Is Goodbye?”

Southern California’s Gameface were always a band that seemed perfect just below the cusp. Their brand of pop-tinged punk was somewhere in between the melancholy driven emo of the early 1990s to what would become of radio-friendly punk bands evolving from the Jimmy Eat Worlds of the… world.

I loved this band. It was songs like “My Star” and “When You’ve Had Enough” that captured my attention. They didn’t fit in with the punk explosion of the mid-90s and had more melodic chops than those that remained in the underground with bands like Quicksand and Texas is the Reason (the latter being the most musically similar).

To this day, I count their track “How Far Is Goodbye?” as one I can listen to on any given day and still feel the same way about it as I did years ago. It’s a glorious sound of a time gone by, and Jeff Caudill, who has been the backbone of their songwriting since the beginning, has still got the chops his ilk can only dream of. There’s a tinge of melancholy that conjures up a certain sadness, a scene in a movie where the protagonist is making their exit into the distance as the scene closes. Something about the song, the sentiment, and the lyrics that always reminds of driving away while looking at the rear view mirror.

Five years ago Gameface released a new album, Now Is What Matters, an album that perfectly encapsulated their ability to write with emotion, melody, and magnetism that only a select few seem to possess. I interviewed frontman Jeff Caudill before the album came out to chat about the band, an interview I think still holds up. Caudill has been busy since then with a lot of solo material, while the band themselves have been releasing music sporadically (mostly singles) since 2014.

While their catalog is deep, there’s one song I keep coming back to, and that’s “How Far Is Goodbye?”. Originally released on the split 10″ vinyl with Errortype: 11 in 2000, the song received an update in 2018, which you can hear below.

Gameface photo from Gameface facebook page.

Revisiting Five Iron Frenzy and their Engine of a Million Plots

Third-wave ska-punk band Five Iron Frenzy returned in 2013 after a ten-year hiatus with Engine of a Million Plots. It is an album wonderfully nostalgic, but one that is a refreshing repaving of an old road. That old road, third wave, has seen a remarkable rekindling over the past decade, most notably from their “old guard” of established acts still breathing the fire they did when they first burst on to their respective musical landscapes. In the past 10 years, we’ve had new records by Less Than Jake, Reel Big Fish, Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Buck-O-Nine, and Mustard Plug to name a few of the more notable names.

Perhaps slightly less on the forefront than say Less Than Jake or the Bosstones were during their height of popularity, Five Iron Frenzy were always one of the more consistent acts (releasing 5 studio albums in 8 years). Their albums were always good in many ways. My most compelling recollection was their 1997 album Our Newest Album Ever!, a sprightly, homely at times, wind in your hair ska/punk album that dug deep into the core of what it was growing up during these times. I bought the album from word of mouth, picking up a copy after friends and fellow listeners told me, “you like LTJ and Reel Big Fish? Check out Five Iron Frenzy…”. I have fond memories of finding their songs to be a great escape from the more blustering efforts of some of their contemporaries; their songs were always easy to get in to, with an air of hope and good vibes. If push came to shove, I’d have to pick “Blue Comb ’78” as my favorite track from the album (and really, still atop my favorite FIF tracks list), but when it came to mainstream appeal, it was “Handbook for the Sellout“.

When they released Engine of a Million Plots some six years ago now, it was a sign of a band continuing their remarkable track record with songs still entrenched in their love of ska, rock and punk, while being in tune with the contemporary world around them. They sang about the hardships of life, faith, and everything in between. The album’s musical output was as strong as ever; with tracks like the up-tempo “We Own The Skies”, which to me, while seeped in deep personal meaning for songwriter Reese Roper, evokes a kind of escape from life’s sometimes difficult turns.

If you read the explanation of the song, along with why Roper wrote it, you will realize a certain gravity to it. Born from difficult circumstances, it is like the song is the belief that you can still feel alive when you’re most vulnerable. A call or prayer as it were, to find comfort in your current circumstances.

In a way, the song is like a temporary escape; a moment of the bigger picture where you can still feel alive despite it.

The album is filled with these moments, and as I wrote in my review when it initially came out that “there is depth in the album but there is also a great feeling of warmth through it all“. And that’s still true today.

These days the band seem to have slowed down a little, at least when it comes to recording new material. Earlier this year, members of the band worked with MxPx to record and release a remix of the MxPx track “Heard that Sound” that now features the Five Iron Frenzy horn section. They have, however, been playing shows and have got a few lined up this coming October in Philadelphia, New York, and Denver.

Six years since its release, Engine of a Million Plots is still a fantastic record. The band had never sounded as energized as they were on that record, and every listen to it since has been as rewarding as it was the day it was released. I’m not sure when we’ll get a new Five Iron Frenzy album, but if for some unlucky reason that this album ends up being their last full length, the music ended on a high.

Today just felt like a good day to talk about and write about ska, Five Iron Frenzy, and this album in particular. But like the appeal of Engine of a Million Plots, it should feel this way every day.

Steady As They Go: The uncluttered appeal of The Black Keys and The Raconteurs

Expectations are so much higher when well-known, experienced artists deliver new music. Bands like The Black Keys and The Raconteurs (The Saboteurs here in Australia) have produced that much impressive, timeless rock n’ roll music that when both announced new albums, the hype was through the roof, for good reason. I was over the moon to hear Let’s Rock by The Black Keys and Help Us Stranger by The Raconteurs, as I am always impressed by what both bands can produce, but it seems not everyone was as impressed as I was.

Successful bands like these two are harshly criticized because of their status and criticized even harder because of their previous success. It is harder to impress when releasing new music. I have observed that it has been increasingly difficult for The Black Keys and The Raconteurs to please everyone. The bands have been criticized for lacking clarity, being less compelling, dull, a lack of conviction and less ambitious. Most of these criticisms have come from Pitchfork and other sites, but in no way do I think either albums are lacking anything. Both bands have taken a break and have come back passionate and determined to once again produce some classics.  

The Black Keys have released a solid album. Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney work so well together, they know exactly how to make rock n’ roll catchy without throwing out the integrity (like in “Go“). They supply guitar riffs in pretty much every song that encourages you to play along, as it’s not overly fancy music, yet is so thrilling. If you isolated all aspects of The Black Keys, it wouldn’t seem as effective, but the compilation of the drums, guitar, and Auerbach’s diverse voice makes for the tastiest recipe. One of the main attractions of The Black Keys, is the fact that Auerbach has such a sweet, gentle voice. And this great combination of classic rock sounds paired with that delicate, skillful voice that is a match that is not often seen. Let’s Rock was written from scratch in the studio, there was no pre-planning or recording, and if that ain’t rock n’ roll then I don’t know what is. Carney told RollingStone; “Auerbach played most of the guitar solos live; he’d simply stop playing rhythm and kick into lead”. They’ve taken a well-earned break, and have come back excited and inspired to work together again and their melodies and riffs are approachable, catchy and just as impressive as every other album they have produced.  

The Raconteurs are just as well strung and assembled. Right from the very beginning “Help Me Stranger” is ready to impress you. The album demonstrates a nice variety of fast and slow, acoustic and restraint, and going all out. It showcases the best of all the band members. “Don’t Bother Me” parades the full brunt of the band. With the classic Jack White yell/sing, it’s flat out from the beginning and that damn break down in the middle gets me real excited every time. I can’t fault this song. It changes paces and direction and manages to stay the same amount of epic all throughout. According to the commentary, “Shine The Light On Me” was recorded for White’s solo album, which you can tell straight away; it’s very Jack White. What’s impressive about The Raconteurs is that they can explore influences of other genres within their songs. “Somedays I Don’t Feel Like Trying” adds a country/western guitar that brings a different feel to this song, and the elements of doo-wops and different harmonies have produced songs like “Now That You’re Gone”, a type of ballad within a heavy rock n’ roll song. When I first listened to this album, my notes for “Sunday Driver” read: ‘the guitar riff is awesome, the bridge is awesome, everything about this song is awesome.’ You can feel the proudness of this song, it’s just an amazing rock n’ roll track that offers everything a song like this needs to offer, and the same can be said about “Live A Lie”. “What’s Yours Is Mine” screams Jack White. The intro is bloody fantastic and the sounds of both guitars are impressive. The harmonies are lovely, the collaboration between them is well heard, it always sounds like a group effort, even if it stems from one person and then grows to everyone. It’s a good mix of White’s ideas running crazy, and then homing in with Brendon Benson’s melodic genius. The Raconteurs are a band that really know what they are doing.

The New York Times claimed, “In an era of blatantly computerized pop, Let’s Rock flaunts basics from yesteryear: guitars, drums, vocals”. And this is where I think there has been some misinterpretation. You need to take this music for what it is. Yes, so many bands excel and explore different pathways and there are so many new pathways musicians can take these days, but The Black Keys along with The Raconteurs are flaunting the basics and the roots of music, perhaps it is even more impressive that they can restrain from additions to their music (that they probably would get criticized for even more). This music works and they are showcasing what works so well. They’re not being pretentious about it, if anything the simplicity of it should show a humbleness. It’s just epic guitar riffs and composed music, if you’ve got the knowledge and experience why should they be punished for that? Both albums are playful and exciting. I stand my ground when I say both albums are needed today. They are uncluttered and are both strong outings by professionals of the trade.

The Black Keys’ Let’s Rock and The Raconteurs Help Us Stranger are both out now.

Justin Townes Earle’s The Saint of Lost Causes: Trading Daddy Issues for Radical Politics

For longtime fans of Justin Townes Earle, his current release, The Saint of Lost Causes, will produce a rather uncanny effect. The music sounds familiar, but it’s a different kind of song. Over the course of his eight previous releases, since his 2007 debut Yuma, Earle has charted a remarkably consistent and fascinating career, with not a bad album to his name. The Saint of Lost Causes continues this trajectory. The rhythms, melodies, musicianship, characters, and lyrical quality are all sparkling in this most recent effort, as they were in his 2017 release Kids in the Street.

Looking back, that album seems to have marked a change for Earle. Along with Kids in the Street’s ramped-up playfulness and sense of fun, one former thematic obsession was conspicuous by its absence: the ever-present struggle with “the Father” that dominated Earle’s previous work. Kids in the Street largely abandons such concerns and it marks an important transition in his career. 

The Saint of Lost Causes introduces a new spice to replace parental anxiety in the recipe: an angry political imagination. Where much of JTE’s previous artistic output emerges from the psychological battle of escaping his father’s (Steve Earle) formidable shadow, this album’s songs burst forth from a vigorous engagement with contemporary populist politics. 

Justin Townes Earle is one of those artists for whom the term “Americana” was invented. As his career has developed, his music has incorporated various, distinct American traditions: country, blues, jazz, folk, most prominently (with a Replacements cover thrown in). This new album continues that established trajectory while adding a few subtle variations. For instance, electric bass lines play a somewhat more prominent role in this album, while the lively horn sections of previous albums like Kids in the Street and Nothing’s Gonna Change the Way You Feel About Me Now are noticeably absent. Overall, however, this album’s style is neatly consistent with Earle’s previous work. What makes the record distinct is the subject matter.

Born to a legendary troubadour, alt-country pioneer Steve Earle, and named after Townes Van Zandt, a certain degree of anxiety of influence is more than understandable and even fully expected in an artist like Justin Townes Earle. Stylistically, the young artist quickly moved beyond his father’s influence after the somewhat derivative Yuma, which finds the young singer stepping firmly into his father’s tradition. Beginning with The Good Life (2008) and particularly with Midnight at the Movies (2009) however, Earle sounds nothing like his father, in voice, style, or subject matter. 

Yet like in Hamlet, the father’s ghost haunts the landscape from which he is absent. Like stars circling a black hole, so many of Earle’s characters find themselves resisting the invisible father’s gravity. The classic “Mama’s Eyes” is perhaps the best example of how Earle’s music contends with the specter of Steve Earle; while he admits he is his father’s son, ultimately claims the clarity of moral vision in his mother’s eyes. This vision led to the artistic achievements of the albums that followed. Each focused on people born into troubled relationships with their fathers, yet who were wise enough to resist, or at least resent, those tyrannical figures. 

Earle crafted a string of albums in which the feminine influence pushed back against the masculine. As if to emphasize this theme, in an unbroken string of six albums from 2008 to 2015, each of Earle’s albums feature him (or a version of him) with a woman on the cover. And the final two are, surely not by accident, titled Single Mothers (2014) and Absent Fathers (2015). 

Where the dramas of those previous albums spring from psychological conflicts of a most personal kind, The Saint of Lost Causes finds a new tyrannical force to rail against: American politics. The result is a feisty, angry album that speaks directly into the structural injustices and inequities of contemporary America. 

Earle’s characters have regularly been in crisis or on the move. In songs like “Wandering,” from his 2010 breakthrough album Harlem River Blues, the personal crisis is usually a response to strained parental relationships. Here, characters are thrust into desperation not by the personal, but by the political, giving the album a distinctly Springsteenian feel. The drug dealing, cop-killing main character of “Appalachian Nightmare” is not driven to a life of crime because his father left; he grows up bad because of the poverty caused by his father’s unemployment at the hands of a greedy corporation. The narrator of “Don’t Drink the Water,” (which has a neat partner on the album, the bouncy yet equally furious “Flint City Shake It”) angrily lashes out at the lies spewed by a corporate executive testifying about pollution and environmental destruction in the name of profit, ultimately issuing a threat. “So that man on the stand, he’s still talkin’. No one’s listenin’. Everybody’s watchin’. I swear he just might not make it home tonight.” This is but one of many truly radical political stances this album takes, and it comes as a pleasant development in Earle’s already impressive career.  

The title track which opens the album sets the tone for its class politics. Earle’s Saint proclaims, “It’s a cruel world. It ain’t hard to understand. Got your sheep. Got your shepherds, got your wolves among men.” The classes he divides the world into here are pretty straightforward; victims, victimizers, and the good institutions that stand between the two. This understanding of the world fits neatly into the dominant postwar liberal consensus, but Earle does not let it stand for long.

The song immediately proceeds to deconstruct this conventional hierarchy, telling us, “It can be hard to tell. Might find a wolf in shepherd’s clothes. Now and then your gonna find sheep in amongst all those troubled souls.” Here a much more complex picture emerges and begins to throw our political world into chaos. It’s a world in which the line between cop and criminal blurs, forcing us to look with suspicion upon those society deems “good.” Yet it also requires us to look with mercy upon those considered criminal and dangerous. Earle describes a world where the lines around which we define justice have been obliterated. 

Driving the point home, the Saint raises a damning rhetorical question: “You know the folks that’s most afraid of the wolf. If you really stop and think, throughout time between a wolf and a shepherd, who you think has killed more sheep?” Here the song (and the subsequent album) abandons a political perspective based on individual virtue and bootstrapping ideology and draws our attention to a fully corrupted system. The victims are victimized not by “bad actors,” but rather by the very authorities that purport to serve them. 

This is in no way a conventionally liberal politics, but rather a radical one. Falling in line, the album’s second cut, the toe-tapping blues “Ain’t Got No Money,” rejects the remedies of inspirational liberalism, repeating “Ain’t got no money, baby. Give me some money. Don’t want your honey, I can make my own.” Here, grand notions of hope and change are rejected for simple wealth redistribution. 

The systematic critique extends into race relations as well in “Over Alameda.” Here the desperate poverty of the characters is rooted in a distinctly institutional form of racism. The family is not poor because of individual bigots but economic inequalities, and the class divide that holds them back from the pleasant life in Alameda, “where the white folks live.” 

Politics permeate this album. So much so that even in songs like “Frightened By the Sound,” which would have sounded perfectly at home on Absent Fathers (that mournful, pining steel guitar!), both thematically and in instrumentation, one finds a deeply political motive. The refrain, “Storm comin’. No way it’s gonna miss us now,” might have referred to the consequences of a wayward life on Earle’s earlier albums. In the context of this record, however, one cannot help but see politics hovering just out of frame. The line “Last time the rain come down like this, so much was lost, we’ll never know the true cost,” eerily brings to mind to the financial crash of 2007 and its human toll. The lamented coming storm, therefore, represents a hard lesson unlearned, not by a flawed individual this time, but by society as a whole.

The Saint of Lost Causes finds Justin Townes Earle embarking on a bold and unexpected new direction. Earle has found a way to take his many gifts as a singer, guitarist, and songwriter and aim them finally away from the personal and toward the political, as the poets of America’s traditional music always have. It leaves the listener in great anticipation for where this might lead. 

Justin Townes Earle’s new album, The Saint of Lost Causes, is out now on New West Records.

Spotify says it OVERPAID artists, and wants the money back

Spotify’s poor royalty payouts have been a heavily debated topic in recent years. The streaming giant has only made incremental progress in absolving their artist underpayment. Earlier this year they reversed course, Spotify, along with other streaming services, sued artists to prevent an increase in royalty payments. Now it seems they’re just going to throw it all out the window according to a new report from Music Business Worldwide.

The article suggests that there was a mistake regarding Spotify’s family plan, where multiple family members can all use one account. The MBW post details that there was “some additional and under-reported complexity to the CRB (Copyright Royalty Board) decision concerning Spotify’s student discount offers and its family plan bundles – which allow up to six family members to stream Premium Spotify for a single price of just $14.99 a month“. A Spotify spokesperson concluded that from this, they in fact “overpaid” artists and are now looking at recouping that lost income;

“according to the new CRB regulations, we overpaid most publishers in 2018… rather than collect the 2018 overpayment immediately, we have offered to extend the recoupment period through the end of 2019.”

This recoupment will translate to Spotify treating it as an “advance” for publishers in 2019, meaning their 2019 royalties will most likely be significantly less due to the previous year’s overpayment stated above.

Our best guess is that for the majority of artists on Spotify, whose streaming numbers don’t quite equate to Taylor Swift numbers, that sweet three-figure royalty check at year’s end will probably be down to an easy-to-manage two-figure sum.

What is an artist to do in this day and age? Probably not PledgeMusic either.

(We have always been partial to Bandcamp)

Bon Iver: The Man with the Impressive Falsetto

It is the most exciting thing in the world when one of your favorite artists releases new music. It is also a great excuse to look back through all your favorite tracks and reminisce what made you fall in love with them in the first place. It all started when Justin Vernon decided most aspects in his life were turning to shit and he needed to escape. He packed up some basic belongings and recording equipment and set to his father’s cabin in the woods for three months. Following this is a great example of why everything happens for a reason. Because of these troubling turn of events for Vernon, For Emma, Forever Ago (2007) was created, and the music world was brought a completely new genre, Bon Iver. The authenticity of this artist’s music shows that he has created an entirely new genre for himself. There is nothing exactly like him, no two songs follow the same strict path, yet every song stays unapologetically him.

For Emma, Forever Ago is one of the best albums of recent time. I have no evidence supporting this claim, except for the fact that it is my opinion so it must be true.

You can feel the emotion poured into every single word, every single strum, every single beat. Everything on that album is there for a reason and there to make you feel something. It is probably his simplest of music, but it clearly proves that less is more. A chorus of Vernon’s voice fills your ears, and all your emotions come running to the front. Besides the point of what we feel as listeners, it is Vernon’s emotions that are most important in this album and it is an incredible privilege to share what he has produced.

Following from the impressive first album, Bon Iver retained the standard just as high with his second release. The self-titled album delivers a mesmerizing performance, keeping the same tone as the first album, an echoing voice, and emotion-filled lyrics, but with excelled mysticism. I believe this album set us up for what was to come down the line; his lauded 22, A Million (2016), we just didn’t know it yet. There are hints of different electronics and different paces, which make perfect sense after hearing all he has produced, but at that moment, I don’t think we knew what this album really set us up for.

Blood Bank (2009) represents the scariness and nervousness of love, and this song is a prime example of feeling through music. As told to Bustle, “I think that that secret [in the chorus] is the answer to all those questions. Why is this sacred and why does this feel larger than myself and larger than what I can even put into words … I think it’s the connection that we have to each other.”

We can consider Vernon as a spokesperson for/of our generation. He speaks truth and feeling and makes countless connections in his music.

To this point, Bon Iver followed a similar musical line of style. We were comfortable with what we knew Vernon could produce… and then five years later, 22, A Million came out and my initial response was… shock. It was a surprise how different this album sounded to all of his music up to this point. Yet he seemed to keep the integrity of Bon Iver intact. This was the point of evolution. This was the changing wave that proved just how amazingly creative this man could be. I really didn’t understand the album’s direction when I first listened to it. I was almost a little disappointed, but when you get past the initial feeling of ‘why didn’t he just bring out something like his first album’, and you really listen to each individual song, you grasp the enormity and talent at hand. There is more commotion, more electronic additions, processed voices, and the less than traditional structures in the songs. It is why I appreciate this album so much. It follows no rules, it has a unique sound and one song can take multiple directions within itself. Who knew electronic folk could work so well?

This trip down memory lane was prompted by the release of the two new singles “U (Man Like)” and “Hey, Ma”. Two utterly fantastic songs. A marvelous combination of early and current Bon Iver. “U (Man Like)” oozes original Bon Iver with piano and acoustics, but hints a modern twist. Whether or not it was intended, the song has a sense of optimism. It is light, but without skimping on genius.

It is impressive to release two new singles at the same time and for them to be so varied, yet work together. “Hey, Ma” leans towards the modern side of Vernon. It would fantastic to hear this song in an acoustic setting, stripped back with just Justin and his guitar. This song shows how you can use electronic additions to a song to compliment, without overdoing it.

Bon Iver has never lost the integrity of his work. The music has always stayed true, no matter what stage it was in. Vernon has created fragile yet strong music at the same time. Pitchfork stated; “This project began with a single person, but throughout the last 11 years, the identity of Bon Iver has bloomed and can only be defined by the faces in the ever growing family we are.”

Bon Iver is ever evolving, and his outlook on music and life is something worth following. Every album/release grows without losing that integrity, regardless of how diverse it is, and there is always excitement for what will be released next. He is Bon Iver, the man with the impressive falsetto.

A Night with Ocean Grove

Since the release of their debut album The Rhapsody Tapes, Melbourne’s Ocean Grove have been on a rampage. Selling out venues like The Corner, and touring with bands such as Architects, Limp Bizkit, Crossfaith, and The Amity Affliction, the last two and a half years has been a wild ride. This all looked to be in jeopardy earlier this year, as it was announced that vocalist Luke Holmes and guitarist Jimmy Hall would be departing the band.

They had been there from the start, and them leaving was a massive deal. Ocean Grove played their final set with Luke and Jimmy at Unify The Gathering 2019 but were insistent that this was the beginning of a brand new chapter for OG. Bass player and clean vocalist Dale Tanner would proceed to step up to become their frontman, while former member of The Beverly Chills, Twiggy Hunter, would join the band to play bass. Having only completed a tour with Hands Like Houses with this new lineup (that I was unable to attend), I was excited to see how this new lineup would work for the band. So when they announced the Ask For The Anthem Tour I couldn’t wait to check them out.

Opening the show was recent UNFD signing, Sleep Talk. A few weeks off the release of their debut album Everything In Colour, they clearly had something to prove. People flowed in more as the set continued, as they played their popular songs “Slowfade”, “If I Die”, and “The Sun”. The drummer was a highlight of the set, as the extra spice he put on their songs with extra fills, and by mixing up the beat, made everything so much more interesting. They ended their set with “Everything In Colour”, and received a joyful reaction from the audience, who appeared to enjoy themselves.

Next up was Melbourne rockers Public High. A new act for me, their dose of powerful rock was an interesting change of pace for the show. Their riff-heavy songs involved a whole lot of dancing and hair swinging and rounded out with catchy verses and choruses that planted a smile on the face of everyone watching. The vocalist was armed with a powerful sense of stage presence (and a powerful head of hair) and did not disappoint as he marched around the stage and unleashed his passionate vocals. They made sure everyone was good and warm for Ocean Grove.

The penultimate act of the night was the punk rock trio from Queensland, Something Something Explosion. Their classic punk sound was also an interesting addition to the bill and continues the sense of musical genre diversity that has been present throughout every support act so far. Moving around the stage as they played and making sure the crowd was awake, their high energy performance demonstrated just how coherent they are at playing their music. The pace changed dramatically however, when towards the end of their set the bass player left the stage, and the main vocalist/guitarist and the drummer performed their rendition of the popular Slipknot song “Snuff”. This was the chance for vocalist Grace Drummond to show her stuff, as her incredible vocal range tore Howler a new one. Hitting the high notes and absolutely nailing the cover, she did the song every ounce of justice she could have done, and had the crowd up in arms in support of this. Producing a gigantic amount of applause of cheering, this version of “Snuff” is something I am dying to hear again. They finished their set with bass player Daimon joining them back on stage, as they smashed through their final few minutes of goddamn good punk rock.

The room filled quickly as Ocean Grove were about to begin, and there was a noticeable buzz of excitement running through the room. The members made their way onto the stage as they began to play “Ask For The Anthem”. Dale was the last one to enter and immediately dived into the crowd. His charisma is immediately noticeable. His mesmerizing vocals, quirky stage attire (a checkered cropped jacket, a Black Flag shirt, and a kilt), and incredible stage presence make it impossible to be looking anywhere else. Massive singalongs and dancing are already a mainstay from the enthusiastic audience, and is unrelenting as they play through “Glass Gloss” and “Intimate Alien”. Standing still is impossible, and the big smile on Dale’s face makes sure there is a matching one on everyone watching.

The lineup change is unnoticeable, and if anything, they sound better than they have in the past. “Mr Centipede” has been a favorite of mine since the release of The Rhapsody Tapes, and seeing it performed at its peak was an absolute treat. And goddamn if that riff after the chorus doesn’t get me going every time I hear it!

Dedicating this one to the oddballs and the weirdos, “The Wrong Way”, is met with an orchestra of supporting vocals from the audience. You can tell how special this show is to everyone involved. Dale proceeds to mention the importance of this tour and this show in particular and says how cool it is to have everyone here that is still with them. This leads into a cover of “My People” by The Presets. The thought of how well this song matches the OG vibe had never crossed my mind, but now I was seeing it, it made perfect sense. Dale continued to dance all around the stage, spinning and twirling his way through the bass-heavy track. Making sure that the aforementioned smile is still present, he climbs the side of the stage and just about hangs off the ceiling as he finishes the song.

“Slow Soap Soak” gets everyone bouncing and covered in beer, and leads into a brand-new song. Bouncy and atmospheric, it appears to be a cool take on the new OG sound. Twiggy features heavily in backing vocals, and oh boy I can’t wait for this to be released. Another one of my favorites “Thunderdome” features loud singalongs and a whole lot of movement from the crowd. It has been so good hearing Dale’s renditions of these songs. He adds his own flavor to each of them, and it makes Ocean Grove sound better than ever. This takes them off stage for about a minute as they are immediately met with chants of “WE WANT TWIGGY”. A change up from the traditional “ONE MORE SONG” it is a humorous change of pace. Returning to the stage, Dale says that this will be their last song, and promises that there is new music coming in a matter of months. “Stratosphere Love” closes the night, and puts the full stop on the best Ocean Grove set I have ever seen.

Check out the slideshow below for images from the Ocean Grove show:

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All photos by Albert LaMontagne. Copyright 2019 Albert LaMontagne / Sound the Sirens Magazine. Please do not use or distribute these images without the permission of Albert LaMontagne. If you use these images without permission, you are a terrible person.

Employed To Serve – Eternal Forward Motion

Employed To Serve are a brutal heavy band from Woking, England. Having enjoyed previous success from their previous albums Greyer Than You Remember, and The Warmth of a Dying Sun, they have been able to play alongside bands like Code Orange, Counterparts, Underoath, Stick To Your Guns, and others of that magnitude. After all this, they are due to take it to the next level and are looking to do this with their brand-new album Eternal Forward Motion.

Opening with the title track, the album sets a steady tone that it sticks to throughout its run time. Powerful and brutal instruments run alongside some of the more hectic hardcore vocals you will find, to create an incredibly hardened sound. Punchy verses, a soaring chorus, and insanity-inducing breakdowns make you feel like you are standing on the edge of the world about to fall.

This vibe continues throughout the album, as tracks “Beneath It All”, “Suspended In Emptiness”, and “Bare Bones on a Blue Sky”, work especially hard to create an atmosphere through this insanely heavy sound. Each song sticks to the Employed To Serve version of the classic heavy sound, but still adds in its own unique piece of flare. While from a distance, songs appear to be similar, when you really break it down and take a closer look, there is so much going on in the instrumentals and the vocals. All of it is working towards this atmosphere, and this atmosphere varies in its tone.

Nightmarish at times yet consistently empowering, this ferocious musical tone sends adrenaline pumping through you with every track. “Dull Ache Behind My Eyes” features an unrelating 3 minutes blast, spitting vocals, neck snapping verses, and a seemingly never-ending dreamlike breakdown. This flows flawlessly into “Harsh”, which takes a raw and gritty approach as the dirty bass, echoing dreams, and filthy vocals tear through you as you listen.

With this, they aren’t afraid to mix up the song structure, as tracks like “We Forgot You” and “Owed Zero” have their own characteristics that other songs don’t have that make them stand out. “We Forgot You” involves an intense focus on inconsistency, as the unrelenting changing of pace allows the drums to shine on their own using gripping technical fills. “Owed Zero” is kicked into gear with flickers of brutal revving guitar. Technical riffs offer a release from the deep and dark heavy guitars and show that Employed to Serve can do the progressive instrumentals just as well. Mixing it up perfectly, the animalistic vocals are a highlight, as the brutal growling screams add the extra intensity needed to hammer home what they were looking for.

Eternal Forward Motion closes just as strong as it starts, as “Bare Bones on a Blue Sky” offers an incredibly unique take on their heavy sound. An unusual case of clean vocals opens the track and works with the echoing guitars to build an emotionally powerful atmosphere. This transfers to a strange feeling of rock and roll, as the guitars and drums take on a traditional rocking feel. The screams join the fray and add the spice and intensity needed to create the incredibly overall sound of heaviness and power that an album like this needs to finish on. “Bare Bones on a Blue Sky” is an absolute highlight, and is the perfect way to close out.

Eternal Forward Motion offers a unique perspective on a heavy sound. As a new listener of the band, I was taken aback by how effectively they could make it their own. They created an effective and powerful atmosphere throughout and set themselves apart from other bands like them in a big way. The vocals, in particular, were especially good, and are the most integral part to the vibe that Employed To Serve create. This is a very enjoyable album, and I would highly recommend checking it out as it is an increasingly unique and brutal album.

(Spinefarm Records)