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 AN OPEN DOOR
That’s what M. Ward wants to give listeners with his songs. There are plenty of them on his new record, Post-War. By Mikael Wood
Portland-based
singer-songwriter M. Ward says that the best way to judge a song’s
quality is to let time go by: A melody that’s still in your head a few
months or years after you hear it, he figures, is one worth remembering
in the future. “I’m always seeking out older records,” Ward says,
explaining how his theory impacts his listening habits. “When I was in
college, I worked at a record store, and I was really excited about
whatever music was coming down the pipeline. But I’m not like that
anymore.”
That interest in history plays a central role in Ward’s own music. The songs on Post-War
(Merge), his fourth and latest album, sound like relics from a
forgotten age, delicate little folk-pop ditties built for acoustic
guitar and Ward’s lush vocals, which carry a potent whiff of
rambling-man mystery. Lately, Ward has become an in-demand songwriter
and producer in the indie-rock world, doing fine work on recent records
by Cat Power and Rilo Kiley front woman Jenny Lewis (with whom he
covered the Traveling Wilburys’ “Handle with Care”). But as he tells us
over tea at New York’s Maritime Hotel, the place he feels most at home
is at home. »
Your records all have a really intimate sound to them — sort of hushed and personal, almost handmade in some way.
It comes naturally to me because I spent my whole life recording on a
four-track in my bedroom. When I was living with my parents, I’d record
stuff without really wanting to wake anybody up. So it’s this style
that sort of accidentally happened. Now it’s something I go after in
the way the vocals are recorded, in the way the guitars are recorded.
Was it difficult to preserve that vibe once you moved out of your bedroom and into a professional studio?
Well, it’s always an experiment to keep the feeling there no matter
what else is happening. The new record was an experiment to see if we
could have big drums but still have a feeling of intimacy. It took some
work, but I think we did it.
Do you think it’s something you’re getting better at?
I feel I am, yeah. I think this new record is the best thing I’ve made.
When I look back to my first two records, I think that was me having
more of a loose-cannon approach to production, trying out everything
under the sun. You see a machine in the studio, you wanna try it out,
see what it does. Now I know what most of the machines that I use do,
and I’m feeling comfortable with having a more organized approach to
it. I want to create something with songs that work together to create
a unified whole.
Post-War definitely works that way. Listening to it feels like taking a journey of some kind.
I want there to be some sort of surprise for the listener. I think
there should be movements. There should be moments when you laugh or
maybe moments where you feel sad, moments where you’re happy — like a
good film. And I think it’s good to be able to have a space for the
listener to bring in his own interpretation of the song. I read this
interview with David Lynch about why he titled one of his films Mulholland Drive.
He said that, for one reason or another, the phrase just captured his
imagination and that it allows the audience to dream. That’s an
inspiration for me, to have every song have some sort of open door.
You don’t leave the door open for long: Most of the tunes on Post-War end before the three-minute mark. That’s uncommon in music today.
You know, Everly Brothers songs were never over three minutes. My
favorite poems are short; my favorite novels are not supersize. I think
you can have complexity within that framework. I guess it’s just a
brain-capacity thing — maybe I have a smaller brain capacity.
Why do you think we’ve moved away from short songs?
It’s
hard to say. Great classical songs are long, but the reason that
classical songs can get away with it is that there’s constant movement.
I guess with the popularity of dance music, it sort of makes sense to
keep the song going longer if you’re on the dance floor and you’re just
getting into it. But then I don’t really make dance music.
For tour dates and more information, head to www.mwardmusic.com. For more DownLow interviews, head to www.americanwaymag.com.
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Catching Up with the Numero Group
By Bob Bozorgmehr
History,
they say, is written by the winners. But for Chicago-based reissue
label the Numero Group, the story of music’s losers — the would-be
record moguls, the shoulda-been stars, and the hit records no one heard
— is infinitely more interesting. “For us,” says Numero co-owner Ken
Shipley, “the attraction is that this music and these records are like
strange cultural obscurities and anomalies. They’re untapped and
undiscovered, just waiting to be found."
Launched by Shipley and partner Tom Lunt three years ago, the efforts of the Numero Group
(www.numerogroup.com)
have evolved into a kind of ongoing musical rescue mission. Numero
often provides a second chance for the artists and label owners who
never tasted any kind of success the first time around. Case in point:
Bill Moss’s Columbus, Ohio, label Capsoul. Conceived as a sort of
mini-Motown in 1970, the company never got off the ground, despite a
slew of talented artists and memorable songs. Frustrated, Moss quit the
business and forgot about the label for the next three decades,
becoming a respected member of the local school board — before he was
approached by Numero to release a Capsoul anthology in 2004. (Moss
passed away last year, having finally enjoyed a flush of national
attention following the release of the disc.)
It’s easy to see
why Shipley can empathize with the Bill Mosses of the world: At age 17,
he started his own ill-fated label, Tree Records, before going on to
serve as a regional A&R director and product manager for Rykodisc.
He met Lunt, a well-respected ad exec, at a record store in 2001.
There, they bonded over a mutual love of cult pop band Big Star,
Peruvian music, and the Verve/Impulse catalog; in 2003, the pair
decided to go into business together. Seeking out projects with curious
and unusual backstories, the label has uncovered a fascinating mix of
music — ranging from The Glory Road, a forgotten 1958 album
from traveling Christian missionary Fern Jones, to an anthology of the
Bandit label, a bizarre R&B enterprise run by the ruthless Arrow
Brown and funded by, let’s just say, unusual sources.
Like
an art gallery, the label frequently enlists a guest “curator” for its
releases. The Capsoul disc was conceived by Chicago DJ and record
collector Rob Sevier, who’s since joined Shipley and Lunt as part of
the team. The three men regularly spend time digging in the record bins
of junk shops for ideas. “People want music that’s slightly off the
beaten path,” says Shipley. “They just don’t know how to find it. What
we’ve done is do the work for you. We make cool records for people who
don’t have the time to go and search for this stuff.”
Now averaging half a dozen titles per year, their most recent spate of discs includes Wayfaring Strangers: Ladies from the Canyon — a compilation of private press recordings made by a cast of female folk artists in the early ’70s — and Good God! A Gospel Funk Hymnal,
a set of obscure funk-inspired ’70s gospel sides. “More than anything,”
says Shipley, “the goal is to save these recordings to show that this
stuff really is worthwhile art. We just try and treat the reissues with
the same love and respect people put into making the music in the first
place.”
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Gin Blossoms
Major Lodge Victory
(Hybrid)
For fans of: Goo Goo Dolls, Paul Westerberg
Signing to A&M Records in 1990, the Arizona-based Gin Blossoms released an impressive EP of college-rock anthems, Up and Crumbling, before beginning work on their full-length debut, New Miserable Experience.
It was during sessions for the album that the band was forced to fire
the increasingly alcoholic and erratic Doug Hopkins, the group’s
cofounder and chief songwriter. Ironically, on the strength of a pair
of Hopkins-penned singles (“Hey Jealousy” and “Found Out about You”),
the album made a slow but deliberate march up the charts, eventually
selling several million copies — a remarkable success that was clouded
when Hopkins took his own life in late 1993. Ultimately weighed down by
their troubled past, the ever-fractious group called it quits in 1997,
following the release of their second album, Congratulations, I’m Sorry.
The Blossoms reunited for a series of shows in 2000, and finally
returned to the studio for the first time in over a decade last year.
Reteaming with longtime producer John Hampton, the new disc proves
something of a mixed bag. Cuts like the first single, “Learning the
Hard Way,” and the cloying falsetto number “Someday Soon” lack the
desperate edge and potent melancholy that lurked beneath the sunny pop
surface of the group’s best material. Yet the album does boast moments
of true melodic finery, including the brooding ballad “Jet Black
Sunrise,” the wistful rhapsody of “Long Time Gone,” and the new-wave
nugget “Heart Shaped Locket.” In all, it’s a solid, if unspectacular,
comeback. — B.B.
Ben Kweller
Ben Kweller
(ATO)
For fans of: Tom Petty, early Bruce Springsteen
Even
at the tender age of 25, it seems as though Ben Kweller has been
kicking around the music business for a generation or more. Kweller
first made a name in the late ’90s as the prepubescent front man for
cheeky Dallas-based Nirvana-soundalike Radish. Despite major label
backing, the band failed to click commercially, and Kweller moved to
NYC, finding more success as a solo act, beginning with his 2002 debut
Sha Sha and continuing with 2004’s On My Way. Produced by noted
Brit Gil Norton (Pixies, Foo Fighters), Kweller’s third and latest
effort finds him working in one-man-band mode, playing and singing
every note on the album. Continuing the more musically mature
explorations found on his sophomore LP, he further expands his style on
the new disc with a batch of imagistic narratives and keyboard-driven
compositions. While Kweller’s songs still largely hew to a familiar
combination of lonely-guy lyrics and perfectly crated pop structures
synthesizing longtime influences like Weezer and Tom Petty, there are
new elements sneaking into the mix. Certainly, you can hear snatches of
Springsteen in the chiming bells and piano glissandos of the escape
anthem “Run,” or in the moaning harp underscoring the lovelorn
rebellion of “Thirteen.” Elsewhere, he deftly incorporates touches of
country on the pleading “Red Eye,” though he’s less successful working
terse punk-funk territory on the album-closing “This Is War.” Still,
it’s yet another engaging platter that charts Kweller’s steady artistic
progression. — B.B.
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Almost Famous?
Not anymore. Jason Lee has the best mustache on television. And one of the funniest shows too. By Bryan Reesman
An ex-pro-skateboarder-turned-actor, Jason Lee has played the angel Azrael in the irreverent Dogma, the charismatic lead singer of the band Stillwater in Almost Famous, and the voice of the sinister Syndrome in The Incredibles. However, the talented thespian’s true breakthrough role is as the title character on the NBC series My Name Is Earl, playing a hapless crook whose personal epiphany leads him to right all his past wrongs, which he catalogs on “the List.” These infractions range from bullying a childhood classmate to stealing a policeman’s badge to faking his own death. Not only is Lee the star of the show, he’s also a producer. The first season hits DVD shelves on September 19 and includes the “lost pilot”; season two premieres on September 21. It’s a genuinely charming, funny, original show that showcases Lee’s comic skills. We caught up with him to talk about that and so much more.
How are you doing? Good. I’m about to go through a Wendy’s drive-through because I’m very hungry, and I occasionally like that Wendy’s goodness. I’ve got my photography assistant and my manager, who is a great photographer herself, and we’re heading out on the road for the weekend to shoot a bunch of photos.
The sitcom seemed to be dying, with shows confined to studio sets and lame laugh tracks. But with unorthodox series like Arrested Development, Malcolm in the Middle, and now My Name Is Earl, do you think that sitcoms are entering a new era? I hope we are. With shows like Monk, The Office, and what HBO is doing with shows like Entourage and Curb Your Enthusiasm, I think perhaps that comedy is trying to get a little bit smarter, a little bit different, and a little bit more unique. We are certainly trying to be more cinematic and write our own rules.
In portraying Earl, did you worry about playing into trailer-trash stereotypes? That’s a really good question, and I’ll answer that in one minute. [Speaks to Wendy’s cashier] I will have a Number Two … a medium Sprite … and a medium Frosty.
Excellent choice. Yeah. So from the very beginning, we didn’t want it to be too cartoony; we didn’t want it to be too unrealistic; we didn’t want it to be too much of a Raising Arizona rip-off — even though we wanted it to be smart like Raising Arizona and definitely drew from that vibe. It has really been a major task for [creator] Greg Garcia and the writers of the show to maintain that balance. So far, so good. Even though I am surrounded by characters like Jaime Pressly’s, who are at times a little bit over the top, we try to ground the show with the heart of Earl and great, sweet moments.
Are there any real-life people who inspired your portrayal of Earl? Nobody in particular, but I’ve definitely been around the country a lot, and I’ve known people growing up that had some pretty mean handlebar mustaches.
You named your son Pilot Inspektor. Why? And do you realize how much teasing he may be in for? We live in a much different world. That’s normal to me the way naming your son Bob would be normal to you. Bob is kind of a strange name, if you think about it. It’s become normal to name a human being after something that you do for apples at a Halloween fest. Or the name Roger. You say that into a walkie-talkie when you’ve understood somebody. Who sets the standards, and why is Bob normal but Pilot isn’t? He loves his name, and, quite frankly, if I were a kid and my name were Inspektor, I’d be like, “Yeah, my name is Inspektor, what’s up? What’s your name? Darren?”
Do you have a MySpace page? No, I don’t. It seems like an ongoing discussion in a high school cafeteria or an ongoing yearbook signing. I go on eBay and buy cameras.
What kind of cameras do you buy? Older cameras. I shoot 35 mm all the way up to eight by ten. My cameras range from 70 to 100 years old. I mainly shoot eight-by-ten Polaroids. Nobody does that anymore. I’m trying to do everything I can to keep Polaroid in business, and eight-by-ten Polaroids produce amazing images. I can scan them and make digital prints of them, or I can just leave them as they are, and they become one-of-a-kind. It’s a cool thing, but 15 sheets of eight-by-ten Polaroid cost around $220 now.
You have worked with Kevin Smith for years, including on Clerks II. Why does your chemistry work so well? We pretty much have the same sense of humor. Just like me, he’s a kid from the suburbs, and he’s always tried to think outside the box. He’s always wanted to try different things and test the limits of filmmaking. The first result of that was Clerks. I tried to do the same thing as a pro skateboarder. I traveled the world, saw what else was out there, and challenged myself that way.
Can you reveal anything about Earl’s second season? There might be some love on the horizon. We’re going to serialize the show a little bit more. We want to play with giving the audience something that they have to follow for a few episodes, instead of just crossing something off “the List” every episode. There might be some traveling outside of the country. It should be an exciting season.
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Five Familiar Faces for Fall
You might have seen these actors before, but you haven’t seen their best work yet. You will soon.
By Ken Parish Perkins
Amanda Peet
Perky and perfect, Amanda Peet moves through NBC’s much-anticipated Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip
with purposeful abandon. Watching Peet eat up the scenery of this Aaron
Sorkin series about life on a struggling live sketch comedy show is
delicious and delightful, particularly when she (as just-hired network
television president Jordan McDeere) shifts from cute to cutthroat on
cue. Peet first came to us as one half of Jack & Jill, the
romantic series that never heated up. Since then, the 34-year-old
actress with a history — not drama — degree from Columbia University
has roamed about the film world, appearing in big mainstreamers like Something’s Gotta Give and The Whole Nine Yards
(and its sequel). The latter two films are where Peet first worked with
Matthew Perry, and her ability to dance step-for-step with the
fast-hoofing Perry on Studio 60 merely proves her versatility.
In what could be the best new series of the fall season, Peet looks to
be in her element: the smart girl with sex appeal.
Jeremy Sisto
No
matter the character he’s playing, Jeremy Sisto possesses an innate
ability to reach for darkness and complexity and come up with a
handful. He acts from the inside out, always suffering some sort of
chronic heartache. His latest role is on NBC’s Kidnapped, as a
freelance bounty hunter who thinks very little of the status quo and
even less of the FBI’s ability to find their own car keys. With his
road-weary face covered by a prickly, ungroomed beard, Sisto is the
ultimate moody hero, a flawed guy with great abilities. Sisto, 31, was
busy during the ’90s, with minor but important roles in Grand Canyon, Clueless, and White Squall.
He landed on the miniseries Jesus (as Jesus) before later hitting pay
dirt with his portrayal of the extremely creepy Billy on HBO’s Six Feet Under.M Since then, he’s played a bewildered and victimized traveler in Wrong Turn; Holly Hunter’s recovering boyfriend in Thirteen; and the title role of another miniseries, TNT’s Caesar, in which he endured that famously vicious scene involving betrayal and knives. For Sisto, that was a good day.
Anne Heche
That mysterious air hovering over Anne Heche
like a storm cloud has always been part of her appeal, along with, of
course, a sly, impish grin that manages to ooze out a certain simmering
sexiness. Her offscreen life aside, hers is a natural acting ability
that may or may not stem from her, well, unique and well-publicized
personality. Either way, Heche is often able to pull off a wide range
of roles with relative ease, whether it’s playing a political
manipulator with Dustin Hoffman in Wag the Dog or a feuding castaway with Harrison Ford in Six Days Seven Nights. Heche, 37, finally has a project all her own with ABC’s Men in Trees, and time to snuggle into a character. (Did you catch her on Everwood?
Nice warm-up.) She plays an author specializing in romance techniques
and the gender wars who finds herself stranded in man-crowded Alaska
after a book signing. What makes Heche a natural is that she’s
natural, starting with her delicate features and coy little smile. It’s
disarming enough to make you forget who she is in that particular
moment. Like magic.
Tia Mowry
Tia Mowry’s
initial calling card of notoriety was, to be gentle, a gimmick. Mowry
has a sister, Tamera, born two minutes before her, and the two were a
cute-as-kittens tag team on Sister, Sister, the adolescent
sitcom that ran for a number of years, first on ABC and then on the WB.
She doesn’t need a gimmick anymore. In the CW’s The Game, a
comedy about women and the professional football players they fawn
over, Mowry, 28, plays an ambitious med-school student and sports
novice who just happens to be in love with her college beau, now a
third-string wide receiver on a professional football team. Unsure of
how to proceed — love him too much and smother him, or give him too
much space and lose him to a more vigilant suitor — she’s clearly in
over her head. That’s never been a problem for Mowry: She retains much
of the smoothness, timing, and likability that made her so appealing in
Sister, Sister. And she still possesses that girl-next-door
quality, but with a hint of a cerebral vibe. She conveys intelligent
innocence with an emotional candor that can’t possibly be taught.
Delroy Lindo
Few actors lend such instant distinction and
credibility to projects as Delroy Lindo does. Fewer pull it off by
merely walking into a room. Lindo does so delectably in Kidnapped,
the tense new NBC drama, in his role as a veteran FBI agent whose
retirement is rudely interrupted by a sensitive case. With his large,
powerfully lean frame, sad eyes, and expressive face, Lindo offers up
quite the visual feast. The 53-year-old actor is able to shift between
ire and graciousness without a hitch, and this has become a trademark
of the characters he plays, whether it’s an ingenious criminal in Get Shorty, a jaded angel in A Life Less Ordinary, or a troubled foreman in The Cider House Rules.
Lindo has a way of making every character deeper than it was written on
paper. His television roles have been mostly movies — as the flamboyant
Negro League star Satchel Paige in HBO’s Soul of the Game, the dignified explorer Matthew Henson in TNT’s Glory & Honor, and tortured Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas in Showtime’s Strange Justice. The idea of catching Lindo on a weekly basis seems just about perfect.
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