Balsam Range redefines regional bluegrass

By Chris Cooper

Two things still stick in my mind about Darren Nicholson’s excellent self-titled 2006 release; state of the art musicality married to a completely down to earth attitude, whether in person or on disc. Nicholson’s mastery in bluegrass mandolin has earned him no shortage of acclaim, some of which came in the form of an IBMA award for his work with Alecia Nugent.

Fresh voices gain ground

Angi West: Orange Thread In A Blue Sea

Thoughtfully arranged tunes that wander through elements of folk, sun-dappled guitar and piano-driven pop and the occasional hint at twangy alt-country aren’t difficult to find on Angi West’s new CD.

Carried by a shape-shifting voice and nicely crafted storytelling, Orange Thread In A Blue Sea takes a few attention-grabbing turns. Check out the cabaret drama brought by the accordion halfway through “Every Drop In This Glass,” or the shimmering pedal steel and piano of “The Light In Your Eyes” for fine examples of choosing exactly the right color at the right time to enhance a song.

West demonstrates a disarming fragility in sections of “A Good Catholic Boy,” but no other tune reveals her “old soul in a young body” personality and tone as well as “Black Crow,” sung a cappella with nary a frill to be found.

“Home” shines brightly as well, and has the most potential as a song that could gain her more attention if heard by the right ears. It wouldn’t sound out of place on an older Kate Bush album, either, in the way it’s delicate verses build until giving way to a chorus and bridge peppered with strings and West’s aching delivery. And though the word “love” makes several appearances in the lyric, there’s a pervasive sense of sadness to the song that keeps you from breathing too easily. Again, it’s that sense of drama that pulls you in, marking the difference between simply hearing something that’s “good” or something that deserves another spin to really digest and enjoy.

It probably doesn’t need to be mentioned that West is a local musician, this is her very first CD, and that the majority of the recording of Orange Thread In A Blue Sea was handled right here in WNC, but just in the case it did, well, there you go. West is a musician with no shortage of potential, and seeing where she goes with it is just one benefit of having another gifted songwriter in our midst.

 

Corinne West: Second Sight

I swear that it’s pure coincidence that both artists reviewed this week are female and happen to have the same last name. Just wanted to get that out of the way.

Corinne West has a voice that’s sweet, but just beneath the surface is something a little coarse and blue and just waiting to jump out. Even on the first cut, during the line “you know why I lose it /and I know why you’re quiet,” it’s the way she yells “quiet,” the frustration in her voice that gives this already powerful song real wings.

Of course, having the baddest cats out of Nashville in your corner can’t hurt in the least, especially when they have names like Jerry Douglas (jedi of the Dobro that he is) and similarly talented mandolin master Mike Marshall. Toss Tony Furtado and Darol Anger into the mix and you have the makings of a fine CD.

West isn’t afraid at all to embrace bluegrass and country as her roots, but it’s a quality in her voice that keeps the music from feeling too “grassy.” At once playful and the next moment world-weary and matter of fact, her interpretive skills are truly impressive, doing great service to an already stellar bunch of songs. Wells’ ability to go straight for the gut with a tune could easily have been developed in the formative years she spent as a busker, where one’s skill ability to emote is directly related to one’s likelihood of eating that night.

Second Sight has a distinct personality as an album — the choices to keep a chuckle into the microphone at the end of “Gandy Dancer” or the birds chirping at the close of “Cabin Door” heighten the quirkiness factor. West’s voice and songwriting are chock full of humor, wit and emotion as well, and she’s endowed with an innate understanding of harmony. Creating train whistle-styled layers here and lush waves of voice there (“All Good Things” being one of the best illustrations of these qualities) she sounds like she enjoys what she’s doing, let alone how good she is at doing it. Add to it the stellar playing of the “band” and you’ve got one of the most enjoyable new bluegrass CD’s I’ve heard in months. Excellent.

(Chris Cooper can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.)

Truth is, Sloe Gin fizzed

By Chris Cooper

Robben Ford: Truth

Not many guitarists can meld the harmonic sensibilities of jazz with the visceral punch of blues and make it work. Often, the “blues” part of it gets watered down in order to better accommodate the instrumentalist’s need to demonstrate their “jazz” leanings, and we know that never works very well.

Beach Boys coming to Canton

By Chris Cooper

The ocean’s a powerful thing. Source of life, nice to look at ... all that stuff. How many fond memories do you have of the beach, the sights and smells, seagulls and bikinis? Ever found yourself wandering the shoreline and had some little tune pop into your head that went something like, oh, I don’t know — “... I wish they all could be California girls ...” or “... little deuce coupe, you know what I like ...”

I played in a classic rock cover band and lived to tell about it

By Chris Cooper

Through the last few “Play For Peace” extravaganzas I’ve been lucky enough to meet and perform with some musicians I might not have had the opportunity to otherwise. Having studied, poked and prodded Sylva’s little microcosm of a music scene over the years, I’ve attended many more shows than I’ve actually participated in, something most of my closer friends have graciously tolerated me whining about somewhat incessantly. “Oh, woe is me, always a bridesmaid, never a guitarist...” it would go, ad infinitum, with much eye-rolling and self conscious gnashing of teeth. “If only I could get out there and play some rock and roll, then everybody would know I wasn’t totally full of... myself.” I mean, Mark Knopfler was a music writer back in the day, and he doesn’t suck, right?

Celebrating a jazz guitar legend

By Chris Cooper

Up for review this week is a live set of inspiring music from an incredibly influential musician in his genre: a burning birthday celebration from one of jazz guitar’s brightest and most enduring lights, the inimitable Kenny Burrell, flanked here by a host of remarkable musicians from the cream of the jazz crop.

Women to watch

By Chris Cooper

In the mid 90’s it would’ve been nearly impossible to write about “new to the scene” female artists without mentioning Paula Cole. You know, “Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?” and all that.

The rhythm method weekend

By Chris Cooper

It’s been a year at least since I did a live show review, and it’s likely that that last review involved Sylva’s one bright hope for a live music venue, Guadalupe Café. I’m also pretty certain that in the aforementioned article a particular ever-evolving band of musical n’er do wells (Shiner Miners) made an appearance, and there may have been some minor chastising involved by yours truly regarding certain long-winded excursions into the great wide world of tuning by Mr. Webb and Co. that evening.

It was a while back and my memory is hazy, so that’s merely my best recollection.

But Friday night, a little after 10 o’clock, a band that so closely resembled the Shiner Miners it was shocking took the, err “stage,” at the Guad and proceeded to bang out some of the tightest and freakiest “smartass with a sense of humor” rock I’ve heard just about ever in this town. Still quirky, still a bit disheveled and glassy eyed, but this new, leaner three-piece gave me the distinct impression that they actually had their *&^% together, and have developed into one of the better rhythm sections in town.

Put simply, no matter how goofy the music may occasionally come across, drummer Isaac Sturgill and bassist Jason Beck have achieved that joined-at-the-hip quality that defines a band’s sound and momentum. As a guitarist, Webb has embraced the creative use of effects (namely echo) lending a whole new atmosphere to the mutated reggae/rap/dub/country/spoken word/rock thing that’s become a sort of trademark.

That’s not to say that the slop we all know and love isn’t still there — it’s just that the Shiner Miners are getting so good at being themselves that even the slop is refined. The usual crowd of locals was present, and by the second set was wound up into such a frenzy that clothing began disappearing, footwear was set aloft, spontaneous wrestling matches broke out and even a fine example of the good old fashioned “drunken lip-lock on the dance floor” made an appearance. If my calculations are correct and all the votes have been processed and accounted for, the Shiner Miners easily won the “most improved local band of people that I’m friends with but that I’m not obligated to say nice things about” award, and that ain’t no small feat.

The next night was the fourth (fifth?) installment of Sylva’s “Play For Peace” music ... thing, with multi-instrumentalist extraordinaire Matt Williams kicking off the late evening festivities. Considering the amount of times a mysterious “scheduling conflict” was mentioned into the mic, my educated guess is that there may have been some kind of “scheduling conflict” regarding who (Williams or funky jam upstarts Ideal Way) was the opener and headliner, but again, that’s just a guess — albeit a sarcastic one.

There’s no doubting the considerable skills of Williams and accompanist Stephen Foster (who qualifies as a multi-instrumentalist in his own right, looking at the sheer number of horns of varying shape and size he brought along for the ride) when you see them perform.

Williams has so many instruments under his belt, such a command of on-the-fly looping and layering (including his vocals) that it’s tough not to be a little knocked out when you see the guy pull it all off right in front of you. His fondness for vaguely 70’s styled “prog-pop” is apparent, with phased-out Jean Luc-Ponty styled violin solos taking flight over his major and minor seventh based “mini jams.”

And as carefully rehearsed as this kind of performance has to be, there were true moments of spontaneous improvisation, especially when he and Foster began trading fours and playing off each other. My only wish was for a little more ebb and flow in the set, maybe a few more numbers delivered sans looping and such fanciness, so that when Williams does build that miniature orchestra of sound we know he carries around in his head it’s just that much more meaningful.

Regardless, Williams has been hard at work in WCU’s studio on several new albums slated for fall and winter release, and if the new tunes in his set are any indication, they’re going to be quite excellent.

Back to the rhythm section thing — Ideal Way has a great one. As if it wasn’t difficult enough to basically improvise an entire set of music (in this case, an hour or two) it’s even tougher to make the majority of it actually work, and it’s that quality that may eventually separate Ideal Way from much of the tie-dyed jam band pack. There are bassists that groove, and there are bassists that noodle, but in Christian Ferri you get the better elements of both. Positively super-glued to Caleb Beissert’s bass drum, the duo struck the just the right balance of busyness and dynamic interplay in order to give Brett Dumsha’s guitar enough space to cluck, squawk and squeal as needed.

Though some of the transitions between the “songs” got a little lost, once these guys found a groove they chomped down on it like an emaciated pitbull on Ronald McDonald’s burger scented hand. Amidst the wacka-wacka of the wah pedal and the syncopated goodness of the drums and bass, there was a head-bobbing, hippie-dancing good time to be had by all, and though the vibe was completely different than that of the previous night, having two nights in a row of fine music on Main Street is nothing to scoff at.

But even better — it was proof that people do indeed still enjoy hearing talented players stretch out and take chances onstage, be it the brainy oddball antics of the Shiner Miners, the meticulously crafted singer/songwriter pop of Matt Williams or the inspired, mercurial soundscapes of Ideal Way: all local musicians, and all damn good. Now stop whining about being bored and go see a show.

(Chris Cooper can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.)

A voyage beyond new age

By Chris Cooper

Sometimes your ears want something different. Maybe they need to hear that which steps beyond traditional form into something at once simpler and more complex; where pure, unadulterated melody and soulfulness carry the music to places unfamiliar but undeniably inviting. Or maybe you’re just getting sick to death of guitars and drums and three-minute pop ditties that are about as filling as a handful of stale Cheetos.

The guiltiest of guilty pleasures

By Chris Cooper

OK, yes, it’s a widely held opinion that the Reagan years doled out its fair share of really, really awful music, clothes and other cultural oddities. Geometrically impossible haircuts, weirdo shoulder pads, ridiculously pointy, paint splattered guitars — the list could roll on for miles.

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