From Big Sur 10-1-10
Link
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Soundblab.com Review of Long Live the Duke and the King
Long Live the Duke & the King
Silva Oak
Released: Monday 27 September 2010
How much you know about this band and its members will have a bearing on how much you like their second album. For those who know Simone Felice from the Felice Brothers it will feel like something of a legitimate, but overall deflating, new band. For everyone else this will be one of the albums of the year.
Long Live the Duke & the King takes the country bumpkin side of Simone Felice and rubs it together with the two soul figures in order to create some country-soul. The results are mixed. When each member takes the lion share of the work the results are quite pleasing, but the constant way in which unnaturally echoing vocals burst to the fore can be very off putting and annoying. Instead of country-soul, the majority of the tracks end up as a country-soul sound. With that said, 'Shaky' is a wonderful feel good number, and on 'No Easy Way Out' Simi Stone takes to the plate and finally hits a country-soul sound which the album has clearly been striving for. It's a simple formula and with more time to hone it you would expect this band to win even more hearts. An album with a slow and warm feel such as this one has surely means its prime listening time should be on summer evenings, but its release date may have come a little late this side of the pond. This means there is less sympathy from a listener who is stuck with rain and autumn leaves at their feet.
As stated at the start of this review, your knowledge of the band and its members' past endeavours will undoubtedly shape your feelings. The grit and dirt of the Felice Brothers is nowhere in sight but Simone's poetry is still evident and his new friends certainly make for something different.
Silva Oak
Released: Monday 27 September 2010
How much you know about this band and its members will have a bearing on how much you like their second album. For those who know Simone Felice from the Felice Brothers it will feel like something of a legitimate, but overall deflating, new band. For everyone else this will be one of the albums of the year.
Long Live the Duke & the King takes the country bumpkin side of Simone Felice and rubs it together with the two soul figures in order to create some country-soul. The results are mixed. When each member takes the lion share of the work the results are quite pleasing, but the constant way in which unnaturally echoing vocals burst to the fore can be very off putting and annoying. Instead of country-soul, the majority of the tracks end up as a country-soul sound. With that said, 'Shaky' is a wonderful feel good number, and on 'No Easy Way Out' Simi Stone takes to the plate and finally hits a country-soul sound which the album has clearly been striving for. It's a simple formula and with more time to hone it you would expect this band to win even more hearts. An album with a slow and warm feel such as this one has surely means its prime listening time should be on summer evenings, but its release date may have come a little late this side of the pond. This means there is less sympathy from a listener who is stuck with rain and autumn leaves at their feet.
As stated at the start of this review, your knowledge of the band and its members' past endeavours will undoubtedly shape your feelings. The grit and dirt of the Felice Brothers is nowhere in sight but Simone's poetry is still evident and his new friends certainly make for something different.
GhostMedicine.com reviews and the Felice Brothers Show with Conor Oberst
Today's selection for the kids comes from the book that has probably been more influential to me than any other novel: The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, by Mark Twain.
Yeah, books like that one get banned, too.
And, it's kind of fitting that I mention that particular book as selection number four in my kids' read-alouds for Banned Books Week, because last night -- well, actually, up until just a couple hours ago this morning -- I took my son down to Los Angeles to see his favorite band in the world, The Felice Brothers, play a very personal show in a tiny, unmarked club barely bigger than our living room.
We had to cheat to get him in the club (no minors allowed), but the ethical transgression was worth it. And, I know, teenage boys are supposed to be all into Hip Hop and stuff like that, but not my son.
So, not only were we there for this most incredible show, standing right next to the performers (I've been to more crowded keg parties), but we got a special treat in that Conor Oberst was the opening act -- so it was actually like two amazing concerts (in your living room) in one.
What does this have to do with Mark Twain? Well, I'll get to that in a minute. But first, anyone who is very familiar with The Felice Brothers knows that they toss around quite a few literary references -- mostly American novelists.
Link to story
Among the snobby beliefs I have, I adhere to a firm conviction that American novelists, as a group, have written the greatest works ever to be published. Save your protests, please. I'm functioning here on one hour of sleep in the past two days, but I am still thinking clearly. It's my opinion and you're not going to change my mind by expressing your indignant outrage over my dismissal of Proust or Dickens, Dostoevsky, or anyone else.
Anyway, the thing that makes The Felice Brothers so great is their essential Americanism. When you look at their assortment of battered instruments which includes a washboard (that got worn flat by the end of last night's show) used to smash into crash cymbals, you might think that these guys make do with what they have. On the contrary, true to the ingenuity of their pedigree, they don't just "make do," they make something that amazes and inspires.
That's America. That's the American novel.
Their last full-length LP is titled Yonder is the Clock, and it includes some particularly well-written songs that dig much deeper through the dimensions of the American experience than a first listen may lead you to conclude.
And the title of the album comes from Twain -- in particular, from this passage from his novella, The Mysterious Stranger:
By profession I am a fortune-teller, and I read the hands of you three--and some others--when you lifted them to stone the woman. One of you will die to-morrow week; another of you will die to- night; the third has but five minutes to live--and yonder is the clock!
Yeah, books like that one get banned, too.
And, it's kind of fitting that I mention that particular book as selection number four in my kids' read-alouds for Banned Books Week, because last night -- well, actually, up until just a couple hours ago this morning -- I took my son down to Los Angeles to see his favorite band in the world, The Felice Brothers, play a very personal show in a tiny, unmarked club barely bigger than our living room.
We had to cheat to get him in the club (no minors allowed), but the ethical transgression was worth it. And, I know, teenage boys are supposed to be all into Hip Hop and stuff like that, but not my son.
So, not only were we there for this most incredible show, standing right next to the performers (I've been to more crowded keg parties), but we got a special treat in that Conor Oberst was the opening act -- so it was actually like two amazing concerts (in your living room) in one.
What does this have to do with Mark Twain? Well, I'll get to that in a minute. But first, anyone who is very familiar with The Felice Brothers knows that they toss around quite a few literary references -- mostly American novelists.
Link to story
Among the snobby beliefs I have, I adhere to a firm conviction that American novelists, as a group, have written the greatest works ever to be published. Save your protests, please. I'm functioning here on one hour of sleep in the past two days, but I am still thinking clearly. It's my opinion and you're not going to change my mind by expressing your indignant outrage over my dismissal of Proust or Dickens, Dostoevsky, or anyone else.
Anyway, the thing that makes The Felice Brothers so great is their essential Americanism. When you look at their assortment of battered instruments which includes a washboard (that got worn flat by the end of last night's show) used to smash into crash cymbals, you might think that these guys make do with what they have. On the contrary, true to the ingenuity of their pedigree, they don't just "make do," they make something that amazes and inspires.
That's America. That's the American novel.
Their last full-length LP is titled Yonder is the Clock, and it includes some particularly well-written songs that dig much deeper through the dimensions of the American experience than a first listen may lead you to conclude.
And the title of the album comes from Twain -- in particular, from this passage from his novella, The Mysterious Stranger:
By profession I am a fortune-teller, and I read the hands of you three--and some others--when you lifted them to stone the woman. One of you will die to-morrow week; another of you will die to- night; the third has but five minutes to live--and yonder is the clock!
Live At Drew's great fall lineup in Ringwood NJ
At his Ringwood home an old friend of the Felice Brothers
Halloween - Sunday, October 31st. at 4:00 PM
A special Matinee solo acoustic show with. . .
-- Joe Grushecky --
Joe makes his second Ringwood appearance.
Wheelchair Fundraiser - Saturday, November 6th at 6:00 PM
-- Jesse Malin and St. Marks Social --
Jesse is donating the proceeds to buy a special wheelchair for a fan in England! Only 100 people will be admitted.
Veteran's Day Weekend - Saturday, November 13th at 6:00 PM
-- Alejandro Escovedo -- Solo, Acoustic
Alejandro returns to the NY / NJ area for a one-off solo show.
Pre-Holiday Party - Sunday, December 5th at 6:00 PM
-- The Elliott Murphy Band --
A very rare U. S. show for this great singer songwriter
Halloween - Sunday, October 31st. at 4:00 PM
A special Matinee solo acoustic show with. . .
-- Joe Grushecky --
Joe makes his second Ringwood appearance.
Wheelchair Fundraiser - Saturday, November 6th at 6:00 PM
-- Jesse Malin and St. Marks Social --
Jesse is donating the proceeds to buy a special wheelchair for a fan in England! Only 100 people will be admitted.
Veteran's Day Weekend - Saturday, November 13th at 6:00 PM
-- Alejandro Escovedo -- Solo, Acoustic
Alejandro returns to the NY / NJ area for a one-off solo show.
Pre-Holiday Party - Sunday, December 5th at 6:00 PM
-- The Elliott Murphy Band --
A very rare U. S. show for this great singer songwriter
Another Review for The Felice Brothers/Oberst Show from Beatcrave
With much buzz floating around the internet after two surprise appearances with The Felice Brothers, there was no way we were going to miss out on the chance of seeing Nebraska’s very own Conor Oberst play a set with an amazing set of musicians as a backing band. The suspense in the Echo built up as fast as the tiny venue filled with fans. What set of songs would he be playing? Would it be a set of new songs or the Bright Eyes classics that haven’t been played in so long? After coming on stage with an 11-song setlist, we were about to find out.
LINK
The doe-eyed Oberst would come to the stage just after nine with a few members of The Felice Brothers as a backing band and immediately break into a dreary rendition of “Laura Laurent.” It wouldn’t take long for the cracking voice of Oberst to ask for everybody to join along in the drunken la’s. The crowd would get to join in plenty more as this set would be a Bright Eyes heavy set but leaning towards the later parts. “Four Winds”, “Poison Oak” and “Train Underwater” all showed that he wanted every fan to flash a smile at least once. Even he did.
Looking refreshed to be playing live shows with some new friends, Oberst even joked to the audience, “I am sure there are a lot of actors here in the crowd. I have a few offers on the table…” as he droned off and into “Method Acting.” It all turned to a messy jam with a handful of people on stage filling the venue with a gazed Americana feel.
The Felice Brothers, who many already knew were going to bring the twang, were an interesting act to watch. While the band was really animated onstage, what the band was doing musically was often a mixed bag. With four different members taking lead, it was more of a free for all on stage without any true leader. This anarchy was reflected in the songs which ranged from watered down Flogging Molly leftovers to more upbeat shoe stomping southern blues. The only time the band truly seemed to be on the same page is when Conor would rejoin them on stage and take the lead. He would do this a few times throughout the night, almost helping the band from falling off the track.
Even though the headliners were The Felice Brothers, Oberst is the one who stole the show. The intimacy of the night was truly reminiscent of an early Bright Eyes show. It was a night where the often uncomfortable Connor let everyone see the inner workings of his emotions through the frightening snarls and broken vocals that he so elegantly allowed a few to experience.
Friday, October 1, 2010
All Things That Are Good loves the Felice Brothers/Conor Oberst Show
If you drive straight into the desert from Los Angeles, past the wind-farms, past the Indian Casinos, and head North following signs towards “Other Desert Cities”, you will find a time portal back into the Wild Wild West. Pioneertown, California was built by Hollywood men who wanted a real-life 1870’s western scene, and over 50 films were made here in the 40’s and 50’s. Today, Pioneertown is hardly more than a mirage, a place that when your GPS tells you “Destination ahead in a half-mile” you think it’s a glitch, because there CANNOT POSSIBLY be a town out here amongst the tumbleweeds and coyotes.
But a half-mile up, on the right, appears the brightly lit sign for Pappy and Harriet’s Pioneertown Palace. It’s a place where you park your car in a dusty back lot, and when two guys hop out of the pickup next to you, and offer a pull from the whiskey bottle they’ve been drinking all the way from L.A., you’re not really surprised. With low-slung ceilings, pock-marked cement floor, dimly lit pool-room, and dusty patio where home-cooked BBQ is served, Pappy and Harriet’s is an old-school Western Saloon, that since 1982 has been hosting some big-name musical acts and serving Budweiser in Mason Jars (2010 price is $2 per). The stage isn’t much of a stage, rather a corner of the main room, that isn’t elevated, and combined with the low-hanging cement rafters, makes it hard to see much if you’re not in the first 5 or 6 rows. Despite this, for the right act, Southern Californians will trek out to desert, and pack Pappy and Harriet’s full.
Such was the case on Tuesday, when Conor Oberst played to a full house with the Felice Brothers serving as his backing band. The Felice Brothers opened the night, playing a rollicking, if slightly reserved set. Ian Felice, plays the lead guitar, and lends his distinctive folksy voice to most tracks, while his brother James, an affable heavy set guy whales away on the accordion. The fiddle player, Greg Farley bounces around the stage, singing to himself at the top of his lungs the whole time, infusing the whole stage with such a feeling of celebration, that it’s almost impossible to not tap your foot and smile broadly while the Bros are onstage. They played a strong set, including Wonderful Life, Saint Stephens End, and the rocker Run Chicken Run. Certainly an energetic and diverse set, but they didn’t play their heavy hitters, Penn Station, Radio Song, or Frankie’s Gun, perhaps knowing their role not as the headliner, but rather the opener, on the night’s playbill.
Conor came out to a roaring ovation, satisfying a raucous crowd, but only briefly. He opened with 2 solo-acoustic songs, that didn’t seem to engage the rowdy California crowd. The front few rows listened intently, the middle of the room tried to take it in, but was partly more concerned with trying to shush the back of the room, which was more intent on finishing their conversations, than listening to one of Conor’s most angst-ridden songs (I’ve Been Eating For You). But he followed that by bringing James Felice out to play accordion on Spring Cleaning, and by the time all the Felice Brothers had joined him for 10 Women, which he dedicated to all the sad gigolos in the crowd, the crowd was all-in. The set reached its peaks when the full force of the Felice Brothers was thrown behind Conor’s tracks. Four Winds, a song that struggles live without fiddle or violin accompaniment, soared with Farley’s fiddle leading the way, and the classic Bright Eyes tune, Laura Laurent closed with a bang as Conor yelled for “EVERYBODY!!” to help him close off the song, just like he does on the recorded version. Including cuts from his whole catalog, Bright Eyes, Mystic Valley, and otherwise, Conor rapped out a killer version of Easy/Lucky/Free off his Digital Ash album. Pretty ambitious considering he was playing with a folk-bluegrass band, but he pulled it off, complete with synthy base-line.
The first half of the two-song encore was a solo acoustic Lua, a song everyone in the crowd knew by heart, and rather than fight to sing over the crowd, Conor just let the crowd belt out the last verse, and followed with his own little scat. But, he didn’t take long to reclaim the spotlight, and closed off the night with Method Acting, complete with his signature leap onto an amp, which considering the 8 foot ceilings and closed quarters, was an accomplishment in itself.
What made the show so unique, and really once in a lifetime was the venue and crowd. Southern Californians already give off that “I don’t give a shit and do what I want” vibe, but put them in a Wild West era saloon, and it’s basically a scene out of Deadwood. The crowd pushed and shoved, yelled at the band without abandon, and almost broke out into a brawl when 2 guys got into it over who knows what. This abandonment of conventional standards carried over into the music, where Conor took his songs and wrapped the mountain-folk sound of the Felice Brothers around them, creating very unique sound. So unique, in fact, that if you didn’t catch one of four Southern California dates on this mini-tour, you probably won’t ever hear it again. But don’t worry, Conor doesn’t ever rest very long, always finding new bandmates, whole new bands, new tours, always practicing what he preaches: “There is nothing that the road cannot heal….”
More photos HERE
SETLIST (I’ll hyperlink the song names as Youtube of the show/shows pops up)
Felice Brothers:
Murder By Mistletoe
Wonderful Life
White Limo
Royal Hawaiian Hotel
Let Me Come Home
Saint Stephens End
Marie
Love Me Tenderly
Run Chicken Run
Take This Bread
Conor and The Felice Brothers:
Lenders In The Temple
I’ve Been Eating (For You)
Spring Cleaning
10 Women
Moab
Laura Larent
Four Winds
We Are Nowhere and It’s Now
Cape Canaveral
Well Whiskey
No One Would Riot For Less
Easy/Lucky/Free (plus better San Diego version)
I Know You
Poison Oak
Encore:
Lua
Method Acting
Link
But a half-mile up, on the right, appears the brightly lit sign for Pappy and Harriet’s Pioneertown Palace. It’s a place where you park your car in a dusty back lot, and when two guys hop out of the pickup next to you, and offer a pull from the whiskey bottle they’ve been drinking all the way from L.A., you’re not really surprised. With low-slung ceilings, pock-marked cement floor, dimly lit pool-room, and dusty patio where home-cooked BBQ is served, Pappy and Harriet’s is an old-school Western Saloon, that since 1982 has been hosting some big-name musical acts and serving Budweiser in Mason Jars (2010 price is $2 per). The stage isn’t much of a stage, rather a corner of the main room, that isn’t elevated, and combined with the low-hanging cement rafters, makes it hard to see much if you’re not in the first 5 or 6 rows. Despite this, for the right act, Southern Californians will trek out to desert, and pack Pappy and Harriet’s full.
Such was the case on Tuesday, when Conor Oberst played to a full house with the Felice Brothers serving as his backing band. The Felice Brothers opened the night, playing a rollicking, if slightly reserved set. Ian Felice, plays the lead guitar, and lends his distinctive folksy voice to most tracks, while his brother James, an affable heavy set guy whales away on the accordion. The fiddle player, Greg Farley bounces around the stage, singing to himself at the top of his lungs the whole time, infusing the whole stage with such a feeling of celebration, that it’s almost impossible to not tap your foot and smile broadly while the Bros are onstage. They played a strong set, including Wonderful Life, Saint Stephens End, and the rocker Run Chicken Run. Certainly an energetic and diverse set, but they didn’t play their heavy hitters, Penn Station, Radio Song, or Frankie’s Gun, perhaps knowing their role not as the headliner, but rather the opener, on the night’s playbill.
Conor came out to a roaring ovation, satisfying a raucous crowd, but only briefly. He opened with 2 solo-acoustic songs, that didn’t seem to engage the rowdy California crowd. The front few rows listened intently, the middle of the room tried to take it in, but was partly more concerned with trying to shush the back of the room, which was more intent on finishing their conversations, than listening to one of Conor’s most angst-ridden songs (I’ve Been Eating For You). But he followed that by bringing James Felice out to play accordion on Spring Cleaning, and by the time all the Felice Brothers had joined him for 10 Women, which he dedicated to all the sad gigolos in the crowd, the crowd was all-in. The set reached its peaks when the full force of the Felice Brothers was thrown behind Conor’s tracks. Four Winds, a song that struggles live without fiddle or violin accompaniment, soared with Farley’s fiddle leading the way, and the classic Bright Eyes tune, Laura Laurent closed with a bang as Conor yelled for “EVERYBODY!!” to help him close off the song, just like he does on the recorded version. Including cuts from his whole catalog, Bright Eyes, Mystic Valley, and otherwise, Conor rapped out a killer version of Easy/Lucky/Free off his Digital Ash album. Pretty ambitious considering he was playing with a folk-bluegrass band, but he pulled it off, complete with synthy base-line.
The first half of the two-song encore was a solo acoustic Lua, a song everyone in the crowd knew by heart, and rather than fight to sing over the crowd, Conor just let the crowd belt out the last verse, and followed with his own little scat. But, he didn’t take long to reclaim the spotlight, and closed off the night with Method Acting, complete with his signature leap onto an amp, which considering the 8 foot ceilings and closed quarters, was an accomplishment in itself.
What made the show so unique, and really once in a lifetime was the venue and crowd. Southern Californians already give off that “I don’t give a shit and do what I want” vibe, but put them in a Wild West era saloon, and it’s basically a scene out of Deadwood. The crowd pushed and shoved, yelled at the band without abandon, and almost broke out into a brawl when 2 guys got into it over who knows what. This abandonment of conventional standards carried over into the music, where Conor took his songs and wrapped the mountain-folk sound of the Felice Brothers around them, creating very unique sound. So unique, in fact, that if you didn’t catch one of four Southern California dates on this mini-tour, you probably won’t ever hear it again. But don’t worry, Conor doesn’t ever rest very long, always finding new bandmates, whole new bands, new tours, always practicing what he preaches: “There is nothing that the road cannot heal….”
More photos HERE
SETLIST (I’ll hyperlink the song names as Youtube of the show/shows pops up)
Felice Brothers:
Murder By Mistletoe
Wonderful Life
White Limo
Royal Hawaiian Hotel
Let Me Come Home
Saint Stephens End
Marie
Love Me Tenderly
Run Chicken Run
Take This Bread
Conor and The Felice Brothers:
Lenders In The Temple
I’ve Been Eating (For You)
Spring Cleaning
10 Women
Moab
Laura Larent
Four Winds
We Are Nowhere and It’s Now
Cape Canaveral
Well Whiskey
No One Would Riot For Less
Easy/Lucky/Free (plus better San Diego version)
I Know You
Poison Oak
Encore:
Lua
Method Acting
Link
Interview with Conor Oberst and James Felice from Monterrey County Weekly
Conor Oberst is known for singing devastating, soul-baring lyrics in a quivering voice on songs like Bright Eyes’ “Lua.” Meanwhile, The Felice Brothers whoop and holler on drunken sing-a-longs including their “Frankie’s Gun!” and “Whiskey in My Whiskey.” Though a collaboration between Oberst and The Felice Brothers might seem unexpected at first, an e-mail interview with Oberst from New York City reveals his connection to The Felice Brothers, who will open for him and then perform as his backing band in a special show within Big Sur’s Fernwood Campground on Friday night. The show marks one of only three on a mini Golden State swing.
“I am extremely excited to play with The Felice Brothers,” Oberst says. “Since I first met them three years ago, I have felt a kinship to them both musically and personally. We decided to do this tour of California purely for the experience of it. They are all technically proficient players, but it is their soulfulness that attracted me to them the most. I once watched James Felice fall asleep in a New Orleans alley while playing his accordion. I think he was still playing in his dreams even after his hands stopped.”
Link
With a scratchy voice that suggests he may have spent the previous evening dozing off in another alley, accordion player James Felice shares some of the similarities between his band of brothers and Oberst. “There’s a certain dirt-bag quality about his music that we really love and admire,” he says before his words become garbled in a bad cell phone connection as The Felice Brothers drive into Santa Fe, New Mexico.
Then, James Felice’s voice returns as he speaks about Oberst. “He’s a brilliant songwriter, and we respect him so much,” he says.
Oberst has a deep well of material to draw from for the Big Sur show, which ranges from his popular Bright Eyes project to his punk songs with the Desaparecidos to his recent work in the indie super group Monsters of Folk (with Mike Mogis, M. Ward and My Morning Jacket’s Jim James).
“We are planning on rehearsing a fairly wide selection of songs from my catalogue,” Oberst says. “We are just going to get together with a master list and see which ones feel right as a group. Certainly some Bright Eyes songs as well as some songs from my last couple releases with the Mystic Valley Band.”
Both Oberst and The Felice Brothers are working on new albums that will tackle new themes. Though The Felice Brothers’ past CDs are haunted with relics from American history like the cabaret dancer of “Ruby Mae” and the old Coney Island on “Ambulance Man,” their latest album will abandon that world.
“We have tried to discover and look into different areas of life,” James Felice says. “Not so much of the old timey Americana sh**.”
While Bright Eyes’ 2007 album Cassadaga was influenced by a Florida spiritualist community, Oberst says his latest work is inspired by something else. “My new songs are primarily concerned with the liberation of the mind,” he says. “Ruminations on the hopefully imminent mental jail break we, as modern humans, all so desperately need. At least I need anyway. A saw-baked-into-the-cake-type scheme.”
CONOR OBERST and THE FELICE BROTHERS play at 7pm (DJs start at 4pm) Friday, Oct. 1, in the Fernwood Campground, 30 miles south of Carmel on Highway 1, Big Sur. $25 plus fees. 667-2422.
“I am extremely excited to play with The Felice Brothers,” Oberst says. “Since I first met them three years ago, I have felt a kinship to them both musically and personally. We decided to do this tour of California purely for the experience of it. They are all technically proficient players, but it is their soulfulness that attracted me to them the most. I once watched James Felice fall asleep in a New Orleans alley while playing his accordion. I think he was still playing in his dreams even after his hands stopped.”
Link
With a scratchy voice that suggests he may have spent the previous evening dozing off in another alley, accordion player James Felice shares some of the similarities between his band of brothers and Oberst. “There’s a certain dirt-bag quality about his music that we really love and admire,” he says before his words become garbled in a bad cell phone connection as The Felice Brothers drive into Santa Fe, New Mexico.
Then, James Felice’s voice returns as he speaks about Oberst. “He’s a brilliant songwriter, and we respect him so much,” he says.
Oberst has a deep well of material to draw from for the Big Sur show, which ranges from his popular Bright Eyes project to his punk songs with the Desaparecidos to his recent work in the indie super group Monsters of Folk (with Mike Mogis, M. Ward and My Morning Jacket’s Jim James).
“We are planning on rehearsing a fairly wide selection of songs from my catalogue,” Oberst says. “We are just going to get together with a master list and see which ones feel right as a group. Certainly some Bright Eyes songs as well as some songs from my last couple releases with the Mystic Valley Band.”
Both Oberst and The Felice Brothers are working on new albums that will tackle new themes. Though The Felice Brothers’ past CDs are haunted with relics from American history like the cabaret dancer of “Ruby Mae” and the old Coney Island on “Ambulance Man,” their latest album will abandon that world.
“We have tried to discover and look into different areas of life,” James Felice says. “Not so much of the old timey Americana sh**.”
While Bright Eyes’ 2007 album Cassadaga was influenced by a Florida spiritualist community, Oberst says his latest work is inspired by something else. “My new songs are primarily concerned with the liberation of the mind,” he says. “Ruminations on the hopefully imminent mental jail break we, as modern humans, all so desperately need. At least I need anyway. A saw-baked-into-the-cake-type scheme.”
CONOR OBERST and THE FELICE BROTHERS play at 7pm (DJs start at 4pm) Friday, Oct. 1, in the Fernwood Campground, 30 miles south of Carmel on Highway 1, Big Sur. $25 plus fees. 667-2422.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Simone Felice to play Woodstock
Link
Bringing It All Back Home, Simone Plays Woodstock!
An intimate solo appearance with special guests in the old rustic theater at Byrdcliffe, one of the town's original stages, celebrating high fall at the heart of Woodstock Film Festival weekend. Bring a bottle of wine and expect moonlight through the wooden boards and haunting renditions of Felice Brothers and Duke & King favorites, as well as brand new material from the acclaimed songwriter.
The Byrdcliffe holds just 120 October-people, reserve now, this will sell out quick!
Saturday October 2, 2010
Performance: 8:00pm
$20 entry, reserve tickets at: dukeofgalilee@gmail.com
For information go to: www.simonefelice.com
For directions to the theater: http://www.woodstockguild.org/directions.html
Bringing It All Back Home, Simone Plays Woodstock!
An intimate solo appearance with special guests in the old rustic theater at Byrdcliffe, one of the town's original stages, celebrating high fall at the heart of Woodstock Film Festival weekend. Bring a bottle of wine and expect moonlight through the wooden boards and haunting renditions of Felice Brothers and Duke & King favorites, as well as brand new material from the acclaimed songwriter.
The Byrdcliffe holds just 120 October-people, reserve now, this will sell out quick!
Saturday October 2, 2010
Performance: 8:00pm
$20 entry, reserve tickets at: dukeofgalilee@gmail.com
For information go to: www.simonefelice.com
For directions to the theater: http://www.woodstockguild.org/directions.html
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Trail Journal 2010 Take This Bread
I'm gonna be away for a while again, but will try to check in as often as possible.
I'll be updating with The Felice Brothers news and updating where I am as we move along. I wrote this synopsis of what happened in the spring.
I'll be in touch in a week or 2.
January to April
States finished; Georgia, North Carolina, Tennessee, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York and New Jersey
April to September
Martha's Vineyard for work for the summer
Late September to December
finish off Maine, NH, VT and Virginia (and likely repeat a lot of the rest)
I figured since I am going to try to keep a journal of the second part of my Appalachian Trail hike I should at least try to give a brief description of the first half of my journey in the winter and spring of 2010. I hiked a little over 1,000 miles of trail from January to late April. From January 1 to Feb 10, from New Year's Eve on I hiked virtually all of Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York, New Jersey and some of Pennsylvania
It sounds like a lot but in reality it added up in miles to be less than Virginia alone. Most of it was hiking in bitter cold but not unbearably so. highlights included doing a couple sections of hiking with my good friend "Sasquatch" and meeting lots of great folks like "shelter leopard" "over the edge""Nox" "Bag of Tricks"and "Panzer"(trail names), not to mention a detour to Gettysburg, an ill advised trip to Waffle House, all culminating in a family on the historic Civil War battlefield, watching me suffer a horrid, ommelette and waffle induced diarrhea attack, that left me dropping my pants in full public view, and desecrating that sacred ground.
In my mind my hike really began when I arrived in Georgia to begin my journey north. I had to make as many miles as possible by the last week of April as I had to be back to work on the island of Marthas Vineyard, where I'm self employed. the plan was to do as much as I can in the spring and then finish the last 300 to 500 miles in the fall.
I will preface the story with a little background on the Appalachian Trail. The Appalachian Trail is a continuous path in Appalachian mountain range from Mount Springer in Georgia to Mount Katahdin in Maine.
The distance of the trail is somewhere in the neighborhood of 2,176 miles. I been intrigued for many years by the romantic notion of thru hiking the trail, and only recently felt compelled to do it soon.
Why? I had little hiking experience, never was particularly fond of the outdoors or animals. I had the fitness level of Chris Farley after a three day binge at Krispy Kreme. I hate sleeping outside, was addicted to caffeine, work, my cell phone. I am ill suited for such an endeavor to say the least.
During my routine in January, I whipped my legs into decent shape, while cruising through the relatively small and easy sections of Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York and New Jersey. I loved the winter scenery, the solitude, and the cool temperatures. What I found disturbing was setting up camp at 3:30 pm or so, everyday, and by 5:00pm it was pitch black, nobody around to talk to, and just laying in my sleeping bag, shivering, waiting for 14 hours to pass till there was light again.
One time in the blizzardous northeast, did I find myself in peril, on October Mtn. In Lee Ma. It was a massive blizzard, the snow was smashing me in the face, and I kept hiking on in hopes of reaching a trail legend on Pittsfield Rd, called "the muffin Lady". She lived on that road crossing, and had been helping out Appalachian Trail hikers for many years. I worked all day, actually making good time in the face of horrid conditions to get to that road crossing. When I finally arrived, there was nobody there. I was crushed. (i guess she flew south for the winter) The storm was so bad, I knew I couldn't survive for long out there, and the road had no traffic. I was able to eek out a cell signal and called a 2009 thru hiker, "Lupine" to get a ride put of there.
On February 12 I left the Northeast section of the trail and jumped down to Georgia, and the plan would be to hike north, through Pennsylvania, leaving me only VT, NH and Maine to do in the fall.
I arrived in Georgia after a "Please shoot me in the head" 30 hour train ride from Boston to Atlanta, That included 12 hours of sitting still outside of Gainesville, Georgia with a broken down train but a fully stocked bar. I finally arrived in Atlanta drunk off my ass and shocked at the snow on the ground
Still, it was only about a half a foot of snow and the temperatures were not bad. This is a continuous problem in hiking the AT, expectation control. You expect things to go a certain way and inevitably, it leads to disappointment, despair or down right panic.
Constant failure to meet expectations, can lead to total psychological defeat, which is why the success rate of thru hikers is so low (5-10%).
The hike began on the Approach Trail in Amicoala Falls, Georgia. This trail leads to Springer Mt. Which is the southern terminus of the Appalachian Trail. It includes like 1000 steps of the wooden staircase. It's wrapped around the majestic waterfall. I met up with a fellow hiker named "River" and began the journey with the 9 mile hike up to Springer. The snow got deeper as we went higher and it was uphill the entire way. By the time we get to the summit of Springer Mountain (about the least remarkable summit on the whole trail), it was absolute blizzardous and temperatures were bone crushing. River and I barely knew each other. I then asked about fairly uncomfortable question,
"do you mind taking a picture of me naked?" I got completely nude, standing bare ass in a snow squawl, waiting for a guy i met yesterday, to take my photo.
River shot the picture of me naked on top of Mount Springer which I quickly e-mails off to Tammy as I promised. We proceeded to the Mt. Springer shelter, made dinner and then I fell asleep only to wake in the morning to a shelter filled with snow and my sleeping bag soaking wet. Some of my food was eaten by mice and two other hikers in there, "Turkey" and "Thrasher", a young couple, looked overwhelmed by the absolute blizzard outside.
Georgia was marked by a constant battle of my will to make miles and "rivers" will to not. He'd often flash to look at me that said he wanted to go home and I would try to coach him up. The first day we hiked about 15 miles in deep snow. It took till dark to finish and River had a tough time, and was quite grumpy. We camped with three other hikers; Joe and Cory and a guy named Toeman, named after this form fitting shoes. He carried way too much food including a mind blowing 10 pound bag of trail mix! But he hiked so fast, we never saw him again.
The next day we planned to take another 15-20 miles but we only made about 5 miles by 1:30 in the afternoon and we got to road crossing called Woody gap. Winds were howling at 75 miles an hour in the Gap. I stared across the street and There was a public restroom, on the other side. My legs were tired from trudging through the deep snow and my face was froze from the wind and ice. Snow was coming down still, and I raced for the restroom as River yelled he was calling for a shuttle out of the woods. ( I did not protest). In the restroom, out in the middle of nothingness, there were 3 other hikers esconsed in the urine stained, but wind protected walls of that 4x4 toilet. Everyone was planning an escape. We did escape and made it for the night to the beautiful Hiker Hostel in Dahlonega. This place cost 16 bucks, and it was worth $100 easy. It never got better than that, as two nights later we were at Neels Gap with cat food, cat urine and general filth all about.
Georgia had some good moments, climbing up Blood Mt in the snow, crawling up among the chandelier like crystalized ice rhodys that jingled as you brushed aside them, and "Cooter", the barely literate, but hilarious gent from Hiawasee, who had an ample supply of moonshine, had recently inherited his pickup truck from "my baby mama died last week, this was her truck", and had never had eaten at either restaurant in town or ever been to Atlanta. River and I chuckled over that one quite a bit.
Our plan was to finish Georgia in about 5 days. 11 days later I left Georgia. The snow got deeper as we progressed into North Carolina, and eventually stopped us In The Smokey Mountain National Park. At that point the level of snow depth, my frustration of not making progress, River quitting the trail, it all added up . I eventually skipped the park and hiked for a couple of days on the other side of it, but the snow was no less deep, the feet were no less wet, and the blowdowns on the trail were actually more significant.
What was good was I spent those couple of days with an old man named Fahmah. I gravitate towards older hikers because their feeble physical state matches mine.
Fahmah had hiked the AT a couple years prior, and had done the last section with his son. Upon returning home, Fahmah had learned that his son had a brain tumor, and had very little time left. He was gone before they knew what hit them. Fahmah was hiking the trail this year as a way of honoring his son. I spent much of those days weeping quietly, listening to Fahmah talking about missing his son, things that he was grateful for, and his regrets.
Fahmah, Rooster (a young hiker of limited funds but a dream of becoming a pot dealer on the AT), and I were repelled by weather and lost in the blizzard, and finally we all gave in.
Fahmah went home for a spell, I went eventually to Pennsylvania, to hike alone, in lower elevations and much less snow. I loved it. Sure I saw maybe ten hikers total in the 200 plus miles I traversed through PA, but I was able to hike long distances, doing at least 20 miles each day, and seeing some incredible hawks by Eckville Shelter. I spent the gayest day of my life, chasing a butterfly for about an hour, trying to get a picture of it.
After I polished off PA., I returned to North Carolina, as the weather had changed and hiked for the next month and half with a larger group of folks. (I'm glad i waited till the weather improved to do the Smokey Mountain National Park as it was worth seeing in decent weather). By the time I got into the Smokies, I had begun to hike regularly with "Trail Trash, Ez Hiker, we'll see, Lil Brown, akido Joe and a cat named Ron Burgundy. Trash and EZ were the opposite of Fahmah, they loved to do big miles. It was hard keeping up with them, a point which Burgundy made abundantly clear at each opportunity, but it was good for me to toughen up.,
Burgundy, got his name because of his debonaire appearance after a day of hard hiking, when everyone else looked so bad. At camp, people would yell out lines to him from the Anchorman film, and it became a game. "hey everybody, come see how good I look!" "stay classy!" and "60% of the time, it works everytime!"
The Smokies were fantastic. The greatest place, and it exceeded expectation. Rocky Top, Charlies Bunion, and the moss covered terrain were incredible. I am not usually focused on the vistas. They mostly look the same to me. I am the type to watch my feet and am keenly interested in all the amazing groundcovers, fungi and mosses, that provide a kaleidoscope on the now clear trail floor. It always reminded me of one of my favorite song lyrics from Bright Eyes; (Landlocked Blues)
"And the moon’s laying low in the sky
Forcing everything metal to shine
And the sidewalk holds diamonds like the jewelry store case
They argue walk this way, no, walk this way"
The snow was icy and sharp coming out of the Park, and by the time we got to Standing Bear Farm in TN, I had about 20 blisters on my feet. Standing Bear Farm was awful. People were wasted, I was tired and had no energy for dealing with energetic drunkards. I regretted staying there. By the time we got to Erwin, at Johnny's(home of the loudest and sleep preventing train whistles ever, think "my Cousin Vinny")Hostel, Many days later, my feet were a mess. The crew went on without me. I hung back for a few days. I Then proceeded to Damascus, Virginia, in about a week, before heading home for the season of work on Marthas Vineyard. I worked my prescribed time from May to the end of September, And was meeting up with Ron Burgundy to finish the trail hiking from Maine back to Damascus. I may repeat sections that I gave already done, and if I do, I will have hiked 3,000 miles in a year.
I will try to keep a better journal of events this time around, it just gets to be a bummer to write down everything that happens to you and makes your down time, work. ugh!
I'll be updating with The Felice Brothers news and updating where I am as we move along. I wrote this synopsis of what happened in the spring.
I'll be in touch in a week or 2.
January to April
States finished; Georgia, North Carolina, Tennessee, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York and New Jersey
April to September
Martha's Vineyard for work for the summer
Late September to December
finish off Maine, NH, VT and Virginia (and likely repeat a lot of the rest)
I figured since I am going to try to keep a journal of the second part of my Appalachian Trail hike I should at least try to give a brief description of the first half of my journey in the winter and spring of 2010. I hiked a little over 1,000 miles of trail from January to late April. From January 1 to Feb 10, from New Year's Eve on I hiked virtually all of Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York, New Jersey and some of Pennsylvania
It sounds like a lot but in reality it added up in miles to be less than Virginia alone. Most of it was hiking in bitter cold but not unbearably so. highlights included doing a couple sections of hiking with my good friend "Sasquatch" and meeting lots of great folks like "shelter leopard" "over the edge""Nox" "Bag of Tricks"and "Panzer"(trail names), not to mention a detour to Gettysburg, an ill advised trip to Waffle House, all culminating in a family on the historic Civil War battlefield, watching me suffer a horrid, ommelette and waffle induced diarrhea attack, that left me dropping my pants in full public view, and desecrating that sacred ground.
In my mind my hike really began when I arrived in Georgia to begin my journey north. I had to make as many miles as possible by the last week of April as I had to be back to work on the island of Marthas Vineyard, where I'm self employed. the plan was to do as much as I can in the spring and then finish the last 300 to 500 miles in the fall.
I will preface the story with a little background on the Appalachian Trail. The Appalachian Trail is a continuous path in Appalachian mountain range from Mount Springer in Georgia to Mount Katahdin in Maine.
The distance of the trail is somewhere in the neighborhood of 2,176 miles. I been intrigued for many years by the romantic notion of thru hiking the trail, and only recently felt compelled to do it soon.
Why? I had little hiking experience, never was particularly fond of the outdoors or animals. I had the fitness level of Chris Farley after a three day binge at Krispy Kreme. I hate sleeping outside, was addicted to caffeine, work, my cell phone. I am ill suited for such an endeavor to say the least.
During my routine in January, I whipped my legs into decent shape, while cruising through the relatively small and easy sections of Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York and New Jersey. I loved the winter scenery, the solitude, and the cool temperatures. What I found disturbing was setting up camp at 3:30 pm or so, everyday, and by 5:00pm it was pitch black, nobody around to talk to, and just laying in my sleeping bag, shivering, waiting for 14 hours to pass till there was light again.
One time in the blizzardous northeast, did I find myself in peril, on October Mtn. In Lee Ma. It was a massive blizzard, the snow was smashing me in the face, and I kept hiking on in hopes of reaching a trail legend on Pittsfield Rd, called "the muffin Lady". She lived on that road crossing, and had been helping out Appalachian Trail hikers for many years. I worked all day, actually making good time in the face of horrid conditions to get to that road crossing. When I finally arrived, there was nobody there. I was crushed. (i guess she flew south for the winter) The storm was so bad, I knew I couldn't survive for long out there, and the road had no traffic. I was able to eek out a cell signal and called a 2009 thru hiker, "Lupine" to get a ride put of there.
On February 12 I left the Northeast section of the trail and jumped down to Georgia, and the plan would be to hike north, through Pennsylvania, leaving me only VT, NH and Maine to do in the fall.
I arrived in Georgia after a "Please shoot me in the head" 30 hour train ride from Boston to Atlanta, That included 12 hours of sitting still outside of Gainesville, Georgia with a broken down train but a fully stocked bar. I finally arrived in Atlanta drunk off my ass and shocked at the snow on the ground
Still, it was only about a half a foot of snow and the temperatures were not bad. This is a continuous problem in hiking the AT, expectation control. You expect things to go a certain way and inevitably, it leads to disappointment, despair or down right panic.
Constant failure to meet expectations, can lead to total psychological defeat, which is why the success rate of thru hikers is so low (5-10%).
The hike began on the Approach Trail in Amicoala Falls, Georgia. This trail leads to Springer Mt. Which is the southern terminus of the Appalachian Trail. It includes like 1000 steps of the wooden staircase. It's wrapped around the majestic waterfall. I met up with a fellow hiker named "River" and began the journey with the 9 mile hike up to Springer. The snow got deeper as we went higher and it was uphill the entire way. By the time we get to the summit of Springer Mountain (about the least remarkable summit on the whole trail), it was absolute blizzardous and temperatures were bone crushing. River and I barely knew each other. I then asked about fairly uncomfortable question,
"do you mind taking a picture of me naked?" I got completely nude, standing bare ass in a snow squawl, waiting for a guy i met yesterday, to take my photo.
River shot the picture of me naked on top of Mount Springer which I quickly e-mails off to Tammy as I promised. We proceeded to the Mt. Springer shelter, made dinner and then I fell asleep only to wake in the morning to a shelter filled with snow and my sleeping bag soaking wet. Some of my food was eaten by mice and two other hikers in there, "Turkey" and "Thrasher", a young couple, looked overwhelmed by the absolute blizzard outside.
Georgia was marked by a constant battle of my will to make miles and "rivers" will to not. He'd often flash to look at me that said he wanted to go home and I would try to coach him up. The first day we hiked about 15 miles in deep snow. It took till dark to finish and River had a tough time, and was quite grumpy. We camped with three other hikers; Joe and Cory and a guy named Toeman, named after this form fitting shoes. He carried way too much food including a mind blowing 10 pound bag of trail mix! But he hiked so fast, we never saw him again.
The next day we planned to take another 15-20 miles but we only made about 5 miles by 1:30 in the afternoon and we got to road crossing called Woody gap. Winds were howling at 75 miles an hour in the Gap. I stared across the street and There was a public restroom, on the other side. My legs were tired from trudging through the deep snow and my face was froze from the wind and ice. Snow was coming down still, and I raced for the restroom as River yelled he was calling for a shuttle out of the woods. ( I did not protest). In the restroom, out in the middle of nothingness, there were 3 other hikers esconsed in the urine stained, but wind protected walls of that 4x4 toilet. Everyone was planning an escape. We did escape and made it for the night to the beautiful Hiker Hostel in Dahlonega. This place cost 16 bucks, and it was worth $100 easy. It never got better than that, as two nights later we were at Neels Gap with cat food, cat urine and general filth all about.
Georgia had some good moments, climbing up Blood Mt in the snow, crawling up among the chandelier like crystalized ice rhodys that jingled as you brushed aside them, and "Cooter", the barely literate, but hilarious gent from Hiawasee, who had an ample supply of moonshine, had recently inherited his pickup truck from "my baby mama died last week, this was her truck", and had never had eaten at either restaurant in town or ever been to Atlanta. River and I chuckled over that one quite a bit.
Our plan was to finish Georgia in about 5 days. 11 days later I left Georgia. The snow got deeper as we progressed into North Carolina, and eventually stopped us In The Smokey Mountain National Park. At that point the level of snow depth, my frustration of not making progress, River quitting the trail, it all added up . I eventually skipped the park and hiked for a couple of days on the other side of it, but the snow was no less deep, the feet were no less wet, and the blowdowns on the trail were actually more significant.
What was good was I spent those couple of days with an old man named Fahmah. I gravitate towards older hikers because their feeble physical state matches mine.
Fahmah had hiked the AT a couple years prior, and had done the last section with his son. Upon returning home, Fahmah had learned that his son had a brain tumor, and had very little time left. He was gone before they knew what hit them. Fahmah was hiking the trail this year as a way of honoring his son. I spent much of those days weeping quietly, listening to Fahmah talking about missing his son, things that he was grateful for, and his regrets.
Fahmah, Rooster (a young hiker of limited funds but a dream of becoming a pot dealer on the AT), and I were repelled by weather and lost in the blizzard, and finally we all gave in.
Fahmah went home for a spell, I went eventually to Pennsylvania, to hike alone, in lower elevations and much less snow. I loved it. Sure I saw maybe ten hikers total in the 200 plus miles I traversed through PA, but I was able to hike long distances, doing at least 20 miles each day, and seeing some incredible hawks by Eckville Shelter. I spent the gayest day of my life, chasing a butterfly for about an hour, trying to get a picture of it.
After I polished off PA., I returned to North Carolina, as the weather had changed and hiked for the next month and half with a larger group of folks. (I'm glad i waited till the weather improved to do the Smokey Mountain National Park as it was worth seeing in decent weather). By the time I got into the Smokies, I had begun to hike regularly with "Trail Trash, Ez Hiker, we'll see, Lil Brown, akido Joe and a cat named Ron Burgundy. Trash and EZ were the opposite of Fahmah, they loved to do big miles. It was hard keeping up with them, a point which Burgundy made abundantly clear at each opportunity, but it was good for me to toughen up.,
Burgundy, got his name because of his debonaire appearance after a day of hard hiking, when everyone else looked so bad. At camp, people would yell out lines to him from the Anchorman film, and it became a game. "hey everybody, come see how good I look!" "stay classy!" and "60% of the time, it works everytime!"
The Smokies were fantastic. The greatest place, and it exceeded expectation. Rocky Top, Charlies Bunion, and the moss covered terrain were incredible. I am not usually focused on the vistas. They mostly look the same to me. I am the type to watch my feet and am keenly interested in all the amazing groundcovers, fungi and mosses, that provide a kaleidoscope on the now clear trail floor. It always reminded me of one of my favorite song lyrics from Bright Eyes; (Landlocked Blues)
"And the moon’s laying low in the sky
Forcing everything metal to shine
And the sidewalk holds diamonds like the jewelry store case
They argue walk this way, no, walk this way"
The snow was icy and sharp coming out of the Park, and by the time we got to Standing Bear Farm in TN, I had about 20 blisters on my feet. Standing Bear Farm was awful. People were wasted, I was tired and had no energy for dealing with energetic drunkards. I regretted staying there. By the time we got to Erwin, at Johnny's(home of the loudest and sleep preventing train whistles ever, think "my Cousin Vinny")Hostel, Many days later, my feet were a mess. The crew went on without me. I hung back for a few days. I Then proceeded to Damascus, Virginia, in about a week, before heading home for the season of work on Marthas Vineyard. I worked my prescribed time from May to the end of September, And was meeting up with Ron Burgundy to finish the trail hiking from Maine back to Damascus. I may repeat sections that I gave already done, and if I do, I will have hiked 3,000 miles in a year.
I will try to keep a better journal of events this time around, it just gets to be a bummer to write down everything that happens to you and makes your down time, work. ugh!
Review: The Old Rock House, 9/20 St Louis
Review: The Felice Brothers And Pokey LaFarge And The South City Three Break Through The Blues At The Old Rock House, Monday, September 20
By Roy Kasten Riverfront Times
Tuesday, Sep 21, 2010 at 11:21 AM
Link
Roy Kasten
The Felice Brothers are a sound man's worst nightmare, and they don't even perform with banjos. At the Old Rock House on Monday night, the upstate New Yorkers pushed the limits of cacophony through the 50-foot-high ceiling and somehow still made music - raging, touching, bouncing, blaring - that speaks to their (and our) deepest indigenous spirit and aspirations: Screw your rules (and tuning). There's history to be remade.
If Ian and James Felice, along with fiddler and washboarder Greg Farley, bassist Christmas and drummer Dave Turbevile, obliterated the rules of old-time blues, country and rock & roll, opener Pokey LaFarge and the South City Three played by them, and still sounded inspired. This was a homecoming set for the band just back from a European tour; the weeks of playing together showed. The band is crisp and light on its feet, moving between jazz jaunts and jug band romps, with LaFarge directing the solos and singing his barbaric blues yawp out. The set ended with a whimsical cutting contest between guitarist Adam Hoskins and harmonica player Ryan Koenig, and a slap-happy doghouse bass solo from Joey Glynn. The crowd clapped along at every chance and seemed thrilled to have the South-siders back on native soil.
Ian and James Felice took the stage unceremoniously, the latter the size of an industrial-strength refrigerator, the former looking as if a breeze might break him in two. Over just electric piano and guitar, Ian sang a stormy weather song, "Little Ann," a grand sound check, even if the St. Louis night air was soft and clement. And then the band was off, cutting loose feedback and funereal marching through bluesy grime, full of spit and fire and life, Ian's chipped, cherry red Guild clanging, the bass honking and the violin shooting off Devil-down-in-Georgia sparks and rosin. And then the whole giddy din stopped on a dime.
That's the way the night went, careening between bellow-alongs such as "Let Me Come Home" and a scampering "Run Chicken Run" (a poultry murder ballad punctuated by Farley with a bow drawn across his neck), a wild and deafening "Greatest Show on Earth" (with history filtered through Pyncheonesque word play and Turbeville not so much drumming as bouncing off his stool to slam the suffering into his kit) ramming into a gorgeous new song about a "girl in a black velvet band." The band seemed eager to try out fresh material, fending off insipid requests for "Frankie's Gun!" (as if they would climb back into the Winnebago without playing it). Many of the new songs stuck, though Ian's semi-hip hop set piece about "the Royal Hawaiian Hotel" was simply bizarre and a new ballad by Farley sounded strained and clichéd (and painfully sung). Christmas' vocal turn on a new (at least to this reviewer) song about a journey from the Hollywood Hills to Graceland felt much more Felician.
The 120 or so fans crowded onto the floor and gladly (and quietly) took in some of the gentlest songs, especially a ballad with the haunting closing line "Far away places with the strange sounding names calling me" and "Saint Stephen's End," which opened the encore with just finger-picked electric guitar and bass, before the rabid build of "Her Eyes Dart 'Round," sung in a full bronchial-infected howl. Then it all ended with the inevitable, welcome and always pandemoniac "Frankie's Gun!," the right closer to a chaotic but joyous night.
By Roy Kasten Riverfront Times
Tuesday, Sep 21, 2010 at 11:21 AM
Link
Roy Kasten
The Felice Brothers are a sound man's worst nightmare, and they don't even perform with banjos. At the Old Rock House on Monday night, the upstate New Yorkers pushed the limits of cacophony through the 50-foot-high ceiling and somehow still made music - raging, touching, bouncing, blaring - that speaks to their (and our) deepest indigenous spirit and aspirations: Screw your rules (and tuning). There's history to be remade.
If Ian and James Felice, along with fiddler and washboarder Greg Farley, bassist Christmas and drummer Dave Turbevile, obliterated the rules of old-time blues, country and rock & roll, opener Pokey LaFarge and the South City Three played by them, and still sounded inspired. This was a homecoming set for the band just back from a European tour; the weeks of playing together showed. The band is crisp and light on its feet, moving between jazz jaunts and jug band romps, with LaFarge directing the solos and singing his barbaric blues yawp out. The set ended with a whimsical cutting contest between guitarist Adam Hoskins and harmonica player Ryan Koenig, and a slap-happy doghouse bass solo from Joey Glynn. The crowd clapped along at every chance and seemed thrilled to have the South-siders back on native soil.
Ian and James Felice took the stage unceremoniously, the latter the size of an industrial-strength refrigerator, the former looking as if a breeze might break him in two. Over just electric piano and guitar, Ian sang a stormy weather song, "Little Ann," a grand sound check, even if the St. Louis night air was soft and clement. And then the band was off, cutting loose feedback and funereal marching through bluesy grime, full of spit and fire and life, Ian's chipped, cherry red Guild clanging, the bass honking and the violin shooting off Devil-down-in-Georgia sparks and rosin. And then the whole giddy din stopped on a dime.
That's the way the night went, careening between bellow-alongs such as "Let Me Come Home" and a scampering "Run Chicken Run" (a poultry murder ballad punctuated by Farley with a bow drawn across his neck), a wild and deafening "Greatest Show on Earth" (with history filtered through Pyncheonesque word play and Turbeville not so much drumming as bouncing off his stool to slam the suffering into his kit) ramming into a gorgeous new song about a "girl in a black velvet band." The band seemed eager to try out fresh material, fending off insipid requests for "Frankie's Gun!" (as if they would climb back into the Winnebago without playing it). Many of the new songs stuck, though Ian's semi-hip hop set piece about "the Royal Hawaiian Hotel" was simply bizarre and a new ballad by Farley sounded strained and clichéd (and painfully sung). Christmas' vocal turn on a new (at least to this reviewer) song about a journey from the Hollywood Hills to Graceland felt much more Felician.
The 120 or so fans crowded onto the floor and gladly (and quietly) took in some of the gentlest songs, especially a ballad with the haunting closing line "Far away places with the strange sounding names calling me" and "Saint Stephen's End," which opened the encore with just finger-picked electric guitar and bass, before the rabid build of "Her Eyes Dart 'Round," sung in a full bronchial-infected howl. Then it all ended with the inevitable, welcome and always pandemoniac "Frankie's Gun!," the right closer to a chaotic but joyous night.
What's ahead: Moving West, Shows with Conor Oberst
Wednesday 22 | Santa Fe Brewing Co., Santa Fe, NM
Monday 27 | The Casbah, San Diego, CA
Tuesday 28 | Pappy and Harriet's, Pioneertown, CA with Conor Oberst
Wednesday 29 | The Echo, Los Angeles, CA
Thursday 30 | Soho, Santa Barbara, CA with Conor Oberst (sold out)
October 2010
Friday 1 | The Fernwood Resort, Big Sur, CA with Conor Oberst
Grab these tickets while available.
Monday 27 | The Casbah, San Diego, CA
Tuesday 28 | Pappy and Harriet's, Pioneertown, CA with Conor Oberst
Wednesday 29 | The Echo, Los Angeles, CA
Thursday 30 | Soho, Santa Barbara, CA with Conor Oberst (sold out)
October 2010
Friday 1 | The Fernwood Resort, Big Sur, CA with Conor Oberst
Grab these tickets while available.
#1 Greatest Felice Brothers song (so Far)- Frankie's Gun!
The response to Frankie's Gun is usually immediate. Everyone falls in love with this song, and it's a gateway to the rest of their music. Written in one day, it sounds old, but it's hook-laden cadence and points of reference are all fresh. Now the song has become somewhat of a minor cultural phenomenon, popping up in film and tv and being passed around the world via twitter, facebook and YouTube.
What's most interesting to me is the transformative power of the song in many of our lives. I once saw an interview on 60 Minutes with Bruce Springsteen, where he gets asked if he ever tires of playing "Born To Run" after 30 years of playing it virtually every night. He answered forcefully, no. He explained that each time the band played the song, he could look around the stage at the guys he grew up with, he knew from when they all had nothing, and they all could collectively share those 4 minutes, knowing what that song brought them and their families. It opened up the whole world to them and their loved ones.
Frankie's Gun! ensured that The Felice Brothers, have a career. It's opened up doors and opportunities for them, and help give a living, to the guys in the band. This blog or forum would likely not exist without that song. Let's hope that have another miracle in them.
My car goes
Chicago
Every weekend to pick up some cargo
I think I know the bloody way by now, Frankie
And turn the god damn radio down, thank you
Pull over
Count the money
But don't count the thirty in the glove box buddy
That's for to buy Lucille some clothes
Bang bang bang went Frankie's gun
He shot me down Lucille
He shot me down
Work zones double fines
Don't pass the double lines
Trailer McDonald's rest stop trailer double wide
I saw a man hit my mom one time, really
I hurt him so damn bad I had to hide in Jersey
Called my mama told her
In the dresser
There's ten or twenty dollars but there ain't no lesser
That's for to take my sister to the picture show
Bang bang bang went Frankie's gun
He shot me down Lucille
He shot me down
Sha nay na sha nay na na na ...
Slip make a fender shine
Frankie you're a friend of mine
Got me off a bender after long legged Brenda died
I thought we might be on a roll this time Frankie
I could have swore the box said Hollywood blanks but
You see my mama
Please tell her
I left a little rock in a box in the cellar
That's for to wear till kingdom come
Bang bang bang went Frankie's gun
He shot me down Lucille
He shot me down
#2 Greatest Felice Brothers song (so Far)- Don't Wake the Scarecrow
The tragic tale of a junkie and a hooker wrapped up in the setting of L Frank Baum's classic Wonderful Wizard of OZ, written and sung by Simone Felice, is as Uncut magazine called it, "one of the best songs written in the past twenty years". Its really a miracle, one that can so shake the listener, that the characters become part of our day. Is it a true tale of Simone's life? not sure. James, once said that Simone told him it was true, Simone once said, its true, but he only observed it. That said i have never heard a song that conjured up such vivid mental images, that i keep expecting the film version of this song to be released.
The line in the song that really connects these characters to world of the living is;
"I'd find you there in the bath
We'd cook up your shit in a tin can
And you started calling me Tin Man
And we started making plans to begin again
Begin again"
Neil McCormick of the London Telegraph says of Simone, "
But when he tells stories from his own life, as he did on the Felice Brothers remarkable 'Scarecrow' (which I think is lyrically the greatest song of recent years, with its incredible internal rhyming scheme, bold metaphor and powerful emotion) he goes to places few artists ever touch. "
I included both versions of this song, Felice Brothers and Duke and the King
full lyrics
Would you love me
If I told you I was born upstream
If I told you I come from money
White money
Would you love me
Would you love me
Well, I was born down
By a bad little river in a poor town
Where an indian-giver put a board out
It said "Boarding House"
Call him Scarecrow
He kept whores around
And I'd go there
I'd wait my turn on the broke stairs
And get me the girl with the gold hair
Aw yeah, leave your clothes there
On the folding chair
In that cold room
our breath would twist just like ghosts do
You said, "Call me Dorothy in red shoes"
And the bed moved
The bed moved
The bed moved
Tracy, don't you wake that scarecrow tonight
Well, the man would come in
It's hard living right giving head when
The sad days of winter have set in
And the medicine for an mannequin is heroin
I'd find you there in the bath
We'd cook up your shit in a tin can
And you started calling me Tin Man
And we started making plans to begin again
Begin again
You saved a C note
Told me you felt like a seagull
Told me to meet at the depot
With the needle, then maybe we'd go
To Reno
Where you'd be my desert dove
And we'd find a way to make better love
Said, "Baby, that's how the West was won"
And the blood-red sun
Yeah, the blood-red sun
And the blood-red sun
Tracy, don't you wake that scarecrow tonight
Well, the man cries,
"Who gives a damn when a tramp dies?"
But I loved you there in the lamp light
With your bare thighs
And the halo of your hair line
And all my lifelong
I'll never shake off your siren song
And all of your talk about dying young
With an iron lung and that crazy way
You said, "Simone,
I think I might stay here with Scarecrow tonight
Simone, I think I'm gonna stay here with Scarecrow tonight."
Don't Wake the Scarecrow (The Duke and the King)
The line in the song that really connects these characters to world of the living is;
"I'd find you there in the bath
We'd cook up your shit in a tin can
And you started calling me Tin Man
And we started making plans to begin again
Begin again"
Neil McCormick of the London Telegraph says of Simone, "
But when he tells stories from his own life, as he did on the Felice Brothers remarkable 'Scarecrow' (which I think is lyrically the greatest song of recent years, with its incredible internal rhyming scheme, bold metaphor and powerful emotion) he goes to places few artists ever touch. "
I included both versions of this song, Felice Brothers and Duke and the King
full lyrics
Would you love me
If I told you I was born upstream
If I told you I come from money
White money
Would you love me
Would you love me
Well, I was born down
By a bad little river in a poor town
Where an indian-giver put a board out
It said "Boarding House"
Call him Scarecrow
He kept whores around
And I'd go there
I'd wait my turn on the broke stairs
And get me the girl with the gold hair
Aw yeah, leave your clothes there
On the folding chair
In that cold room
our breath would twist just like ghosts do
You said, "Call me Dorothy in red shoes"
And the bed moved
The bed moved
The bed moved
Tracy, don't you wake that scarecrow tonight
Well, the man would come in
It's hard living right giving head when
The sad days of winter have set in
And the medicine for an mannequin is heroin
I'd find you there in the bath
We'd cook up your shit in a tin can
And you started calling me Tin Man
And we started making plans to begin again
Begin again
You saved a C note
Told me you felt like a seagull
Told me to meet at the depot
With the needle, then maybe we'd go
To Reno
Where you'd be my desert dove
And we'd find a way to make better love
Said, "Baby, that's how the West was won"
And the blood-red sun
Yeah, the blood-red sun
And the blood-red sun
Tracy, don't you wake that scarecrow tonight
Well, the man cries,
"Who gives a damn when a tramp dies?"
But I loved you there in the lamp light
With your bare thighs
And the halo of your hair line
And all my lifelong
I'll never shake off your siren song
And all of your talk about dying young
With an iron lung and that crazy way
You said, "Simone,
I think I might stay here with Scarecrow tonight
Simone, I think I'm gonna stay here with Scarecrow tonight."
Don't Wake the Scarecrow (The Duke and the King)
Monday, September 20, 2010
Someone elses Top Ten (From RYN)
Lillebolle
Sept 19 2010
The Felice Brothers
1. Don't Wake the Scarecrow (from The Felice Brothers)
2. Helen Fry (from The Felice Brothers)
3. Ballad of Lou the Welterweight (from Tonight at the Arizona)
4. Roll on Arte (from iantown)
5. Boy From Lawrence County (from Yonder Is the Clock)
6. Trouble Been Hard (from iantown)
7. Buried in Ice (from Yonder Is the Clock)
8. Song to Die To (from Through These Reins and Gone)
9. Your Belly in My Arms (from Tonight at the Arizona)
10. You're All Around (from iantown)
Sept 19 2010
The Felice Brothers
1. Don't Wake the Scarecrow (from The Felice Brothers)
2. Helen Fry (from The Felice Brothers)
3. Ballad of Lou the Welterweight (from Tonight at the Arizona)
4. Roll on Arte (from iantown)
5. Boy From Lawrence County (from Yonder Is the Clock)
6. Trouble Been Hard (from iantown)
7. Buried in Ice (from Yonder Is the Clock)
8. Song to Die To (from Through These Reins and Gone)
9. Your Belly in My Arms (from Tonight at the Arizona)
10. You're All Around (from iantown)
Townes Earle arrested, hurls Felice Brothers into it!
Pure comedy, from undercover.com
by Paul Cashmere - September 20 2010
Singer songwriter Justin Townes Earle was arrested in Indianapolis on Thursday for drunken behaviour during his concert.
Earle, the son of singer Steve Earle, was performing at Radio Radio in Indianapolis, when banter between the singer and the crowd turned ugly. When someone in the crowded yelled for ‘Freebird’, Earle said back ‘Fuck Freebird. I hate Lynyrd Skynyrd”. Someone then yelled for him to take off his shirt. “You fucking take off your shirt,” he responded.
During the song ‘Can’t Hardrly wait’ some guy threw a shirt on stage which landed on Earle’s guitar. “Fuck you,” he yelled at the guy, stormed off stage and then trashed his dressing room.
The venue filed “assault and battery” charges against Earle. He was fined $200
Later on his Twitter he posted, “Sorry for missing the radio Louisville. I was in jail! We will be making the show at headliners though. Free again!!!”
And then …. “Oh and Radio Radio in Indy and all it's staff can kiss my fucking ass! I think the Felice Bros. Would agree”.
by Paul Cashmere - September 20 2010
Singer songwriter Justin Townes Earle was arrested in Indianapolis on Thursday for drunken behaviour during his concert.
Earle, the son of singer Steve Earle, was performing at Radio Radio in Indianapolis, when banter between the singer and the crowd turned ugly. When someone in the crowded yelled for ‘Freebird’, Earle said back ‘Fuck Freebird. I hate Lynyrd Skynyrd”. Someone then yelled for him to take off his shirt. “You fucking take off your shirt,” he responded.
During the song ‘Can’t Hardrly wait’ some guy threw a shirt on stage which landed on Earle’s guitar. “Fuck you,” he yelled at the guy, stormed off stage and then trashed his dressing room.
The venue filed “assault and battery” charges against Earle. He was fined $200
Later on his Twitter he posted, “Sorry for missing the radio Louisville. I was in jail! We will be making the show at headliners though. Free again!!!”
And then …. “Oh and Radio Radio in Indy and all it's staff can kiss my fucking ass! I think the Felice Bros. Would agree”.
#3 Greatest Felice Brothers Song (so far)-Love Me Tenderly
listen here
linkage
The Felice Brothers common comparisons with Bob Dylan and the Band are probably flattering and often aggravating to the fellas. It's also unfair. Anyone playing rock music, particularly with an accordion as a major part of the sound is going to owe something to the folks that inhabited a pink house in Woodstock 40 years ago.
It's unfair as well, since without question the biggest influence I hear in their music is Randy Newman. Mostly in James Felice's piano playing. What you hear in songs like Greatest Show on Earth, Marie and this song, Love me Tenderly, is the pure joy that is heard in James performance(that is Newman's trademark) It's all over the self titled album, and I believe why fans went bonkers for that record.
Moreover, the Lyrics and melody to this tune, are infectious as it gets. It's consistently one tune that gets the crowd hollering in concert.
Wouldn't you like that?
I added the Randy Newman song that likely was nicked a bit for Love Me Tenderly.
linkage
The Felice Brothers common comparisons with Bob Dylan and the Band are probably flattering and often aggravating to the fellas. It's also unfair. Anyone playing rock music, particularly with an accordion as a major part of the sound is going to owe something to the folks that inhabited a pink house in Woodstock 40 years ago.
It's unfair as well, since without question the biggest influence I hear in their music is Randy Newman. Mostly in James Felice's piano playing. What you hear in songs like Greatest Show on Earth, Marie and this song, Love me Tenderly, is the pure joy that is heard in James performance(that is Newman's trademark) It's all over the self titled album, and I believe why fans went bonkers for that record.
Moreover, the Lyrics and melody to this tune, are infectious as it gets. It's consistently one tune that gets the crowd hollering in concert.
Wouldn't you like that?
I added the Randy Newman song that likely was nicked a bit for Love Me Tenderly.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Setlist from London
Set List
1. Marlboro Man
2. White Limo
3. Run Chicken Run
4. Murder By Mistletoe
5. Step Dad
6. River Jordan
7. Love Me Tenderly
8. Goddamn You, Jim
9. Roll On Arte
10. Fire!
11. Frankie's Gun
12. Turn On The TV
13. Frontiers
14. Let Me Come Home
15. Take This Bread
Encore
1. Helen Fry
2. Two hands
1. Marlboro Man
2. White Limo
3. Run Chicken Run
4. Murder By Mistletoe
5. Step Dad
6. River Jordan
7. Love Me Tenderly
8. Goddamn You, Jim
9. Roll On Arte
10. Fire!
11. Frankie's Gun
12. Turn On The TV
13. Frontiers
14. Let Me Come Home
15. Take This Bread
Encore
1. Helen Fry
2. Two hands
#4 Greatest Felice Brothers Song (so far)- Ballad of Lou the Welterweight
play here
About 5 years ago, sitting on their fathers porch, before there ever was a touring band, Simone and James Felice were stunned at a new song their brother Ian had just written, called "Ballad of Lou The Welterweight", about a down and out pugilist, who "had a way like Errol Flynn". Unlike other great boxing songs like the imagined tragedy of The Hurricane, (the real tragedy was the victims, which is likely why Dylan refuses to play it), Lou the Welterweight is a heart wrenching tale of a man toiling his trade, paying the ultimate price for it, and the ones he leaves behind. Its one of the very best story songs ever written.
Most often sports themed music and film deal with characters like Lou, as they get older, trying to come to grips with their diminished existence (Pride of the Yankees, Bull Durham, On The Waterfront), but this character is very different. Lou is unaware of his impending doom, his diminished abilities, and in this way he resembles Scorcese's "Raging Bull".
About 5 years ago, sitting on their fathers porch, before there ever was a touring band, Simone and James Felice were stunned at a new song their brother Ian had just written, called "Ballad of Lou The Welterweight", about a down and out pugilist, who "had a way like Errol Flynn". Unlike other great boxing songs like the imagined tragedy of The Hurricane, (the real tragedy was the victims, which is likely why Dylan refuses to play it), Lou the Welterweight is a heart wrenching tale of a man toiling his trade, paying the ultimate price for it, and the ones he leaves behind. Its one of the very best story songs ever written.
Most often sports themed music and film deal with characters like Lou, as they get older, trying to come to grips with their diminished existence (Pride of the Yankees, Bull Durham, On The Waterfront), but this character is very different. Lou is unaware of his impending doom, his diminished abilities, and in this way he resembles Scorcese's "Raging Bull".
Saturday, September 18, 2010
KDHX hails the Felice Brothers
THE FELICE BROTHERS: SOMETIMES, WHO CARES ABOUT DERIVATIVE MUSIC? WOULDN’T YOU LIKE THAT?
From KDHX.org
Team Love / thefelicebrothers.com
The Felice Brothers, originating from the Catskill Mountains in the state of New York, fool around with pianos, guitars, horns and accordions — weathered Americana. Their music floats atop the old-timey music scene poignantly and fluffily, like a big mean marshmallow in a cup of hot chocolate.
Throw in quaint yet beautiful lyrics about women named Lenore and Ruby Mae, and ya got a pleasant saloon sing-along, the type in which you throw an arm around a buddy and carelessly swing a glass pint of dark microbrew to and fro.
The sound will vicariously carry you to another period in American history, for a common Felice Brothers thought is: They remind me of….
When I listen to the flimsy and amusing piano opening on “Greatest Show on Earth,” I am transported to Elmer Bernstein’s compositions in the Billy Murray comedy Stripes. But that’s just me; others see more rational influences, like Bob Dylan and the Band.
The lyrics also travel through American time vessels. There are a handful of words couched in history. Guillotine is one. Samurai, another. And the 20th century is no exception: cars, jazz, baseball. (Not!) And so when the Felice Brothers croon, you feel like they are summoning the spirit of another era with their blunt metaphorical language embedded somewhere between 1860 and 1960:
A bottle of scotch
A dime sack and a diamond watch
Wouldn’t you like that?
A bottle of gin (what?!?)
A typewriter and a violin
Wouldn’t you like that?
A sunny day, a shotgun and a Chevrolet
Wouldn’t you like that?
A painted scene, our voices on the city green
Wouldn’t you like that?
A microwave, a pillbox and a jack of spades
Wouldn’t you like that?
But the Felice Brothers don’t steal from our past — they honor the sound of our rich history, and in the process add something new. The band tipped their cap to America’s greatest humorist, Mark Twain, by pulling a passage out of The Mysterious Stranger to name their latest album, Yonder is the Clock. And even though some folks will continue to claim the Felice Brothers are derivative — an attempt to be Bob Dylan and the Band — sometimes, who cares? I reckon not everything good is entirely original.
From KDHX.org
Team Love / thefelicebrothers.com
The Felice Brothers, originating from the Catskill Mountains in the state of New York, fool around with pianos, guitars, horns and accordions — weathered Americana. Their music floats atop the old-timey music scene poignantly and fluffily, like a big mean marshmallow in a cup of hot chocolate.
Throw in quaint yet beautiful lyrics about women named Lenore and Ruby Mae, and ya got a pleasant saloon sing-along, the type in which you throw an arm around a buddy and carelessly swing a glass pint of dark microbrew to and fro.
The sound will vicariously carry you to another period in American history, for a common Felice Brothers thought is: They remind me of….
When I listen to the flimsy and amusing piano opening on “Greatest Show on Earth,” I am transported to Elmer Bernstein’s compositions in the Billy Murray comedy Stripes. But that’s just me; others see more rational influences, like Bob Dylan and the Band.
The lyrics also travel through American time vessels. There are a handful of words couched in history. Guillotine is one. Samurai, another. And the 20th century is no exception: cars, jazz, baseball. (Not!) And so when the Felice Brothers croon, you feel like they are summoning the spirit of another era with their blunt metaphorical language embedded somewhere between 1860 and 1960:
A bottle of scotch
A dime sack and a diamond watch
Wouldn’t you like that?
A bottle of gin (what?!?)
A typewriter and a violin
Wouldn’t you like that?
A sunny day, a shotgun and a Chevrolet
Wouldn’t you like that?
A painted scene, our voices on the city green
Wouldn’t you like that?
A microwave, a pillbox and a jack of spades
Wouldn’t you like that?
But the Felice Brothers don’t steal from our past — they honor the sound of our rich history, and in the process add something new. The band tipped their cap to America’s greatest humorist, Mark Twain, by pulling a passage out of The Mysterious Stranger to name their latest album, Yonder is the Clock. And even though some folks will continue to claim the Felice Brothers are derivative — an attempt to be Bob Dylan and the Band — sometimes, who cares? I reckon not everything good is entirely original.
#5 Greatest Felice Brothers Song (so far)- Rockefeller Drug Law Blues
Another song that has grown in popularity, in part because it has not been played live in a few years. The opening lyric is memorable "the exhaust from the prison van is going is going to Heaven, but i'm going to Attica"
The Rockefeller Drug Laws, was Draconian legislation enacted in the early 1970's, by New York Governor Nelson Rockefeller, that sentenced any criminal in possession of over 2 ounces of a controlled substance, to a minimum of 15 years to life. They were the harshest drug laws in the country, and roundly criticized around the nation for being too harsh and possibly discriminatory. They were rolled back in 2004, somewhat.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Acclaim from End of the Road
Then it was on to see the enigmatic, super-energetic, super-talented Felice Brothers. My (and MM’s) favourite performance of the entire festival. Before End of the Road, I was only really familiar with the beautiful ballad, Cooperstown, and I went to this performance expecting more of the same. What we got was the ultimate masterclass in ramshackle crowd pleasing..like the Waterboys on speed, or perhaps The Pogues on Red Bull and vodka?
For a bunch of brothers (which four of the guys really are) they’re pretty different. The lead singer, Ian, had the attitude (and even a slight look) of a young Roy Keane. Violinist, Farley, looked like an all-American college kid who could have easily played at the wildest hoe-down. Then, there’s the multi-talented, multi-instrumental James who got the large crowd singing along, stamping along and generally having a great old American time. In between, they introduced humour, irony and even a little self-effacement. What a great start to the evening.
Link
For a bunch of brothers (which four of the guys really are) they’re pretty different. The lead singer, Ian, had the attitude (and even a slight look) of a young Roy Keane. Violinist, Farley, looked like an all-American college kid who could have easily played at the wildest hoe-down. Then, there’s the multi-talented, multi-instrumental James who got the large crowd singing along, stamping along and generally having a great old American time. In between, they introduced humour, irony and even a little self-effacement. What a great start to the evening.
Link
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
