The Duke and the King on Daytrotter

They Don't Them Like This No More
Sep 9, 2009
tell your friends…

Words by Sean Moeller // Illustration by Johnnie Cluney // Sound engineering by Mike Gentry

TRACKLIST
If You Ever Get Famous
The Morning I Get To Hell
One More American Song
I've Been Bad
Suzanne


Simone Felice, the eldest of the great Felice Brothers of the Woodstock, New York vicinity, told a story upon arrival at the studio here in Rock Island, not all that long ago about a man in the music publishing business that he took a meeting with recently in Nashville, while playing a show there in town. He was being wined and dined and Felice was baiting him - sort of. He was ingesting all of the bullshit that was being lobbed out and into the air, pieces of conversation that would make many and certainly his brothers, even his brother-in-law (the one and only AA Bondy) laugh until their sides split out, and firing right back, upping the ante and delivering the energetic responses that he knew the man on the other side of the table would eat up like cheesecake covered in dollar bills. He told the slick publisher fellow that he just wanted to make HITS, really emphasizing that word, squinting his brows and forming the "h" and "s" sounds as if he clearing his throat with a hack. He named off someone like Hall & Oates as an example of a hitmaker that he meant as an idol and the real funny part about it all wasn't that the man he was dining with told him - "I've always said, 'There isn't anything wrong with a hit," with a snake-like look in his lean eyes - but that Felice was only bending the desires of his heart of hearts. Felice does want to make hits, but these aren't the kinds of hits that people think of as hits anymore. These are hits from a yesteryear, when James Taylor, Bread and The Carpenters were making hits. It's when Neil Diamond was writing things like "Cherry, Cherry" and "Cracklin' Rosie." It's when Gilbert O'Sullivan was charting with "Alone Again (Naturally)," America was doing the same with "A Horse With No Name." With The Duke and the King, Felice has a side project that has he, The King (Robert Chicken Burke) and The Deacon (a man who seems to love Wu-Tang, breasts, old school professional wrestling, the cosmos and the Almighty in the same large amounts) making the kind of graceful and light hits of the early and mid-1970s, during those post Woodstock Festival years, as the ire over the Vietnam War was at its most exhausted and discouraged peak. Felice writes songs from the perspective of someone who not only has a feeling that things are only going to get more complicated, but has already witnessed it all. Many of the tracks on the group's gloriously understated and simplified debut album, "Nothing Gold Can Stay," involve a main character thinking nostalgically, when the music of his or her youth was a unifying fiber between a band of friends. These friends always sound as if they were the friends who drifted apart upon their high school graduation - on to colleges states apart, new girlfriends, buddies from elsewhere, new interests and maturity from out of nowhere and different priorities that are now defining, not extraordinary. Life has moved on exactly as it always does, really how it's meant to. And Felice comes to terms with this easily, in his own way, bridging an adolescence with all of the complexities of adulthood. It's as if the link he makes between his years - from then until now - is based on the music that was on the car and transistor radios, on the Walkman and cassette tapes when he was first discovering them and to bring it all back together again, he dives into what he first starting loving in American music. Felice addresses friends on "If You Ever Get Famous," and warns them to, "Say a prayer for your heart/Keep your eyes open and beware of the sharks/Cause they come out in the dark." He references a personal hero of his - Harriet Tubman - in "Water Spider," "Jesus walked on water/But so did Marvin Gaye/And Harriet/Did you hear they never caught her/She just slipped away," and he shows that he is an expert at slipping through time and country as well.

Link

The Felice Brothers in Jackson Free Press

Relevancy of Roots

Courtesy University of TennesseeThe Felice Brothers play at Proud Larry's in Oxford on Sept. 19.September 9, 2009

Modern roots music has hit a creative low in recent years. Artists have shown decreasing concern for progressing the genre, focusing instead on "authenticity." Of course, valuing authenticity over progress in any genre is ridiculous and counterproductive. It assures that the genre will never attain creative relevance and, worse, reduces it to mere novelty.

Far too many roots songs are written every year about train-hopping during the Vietnam War, or roaming the countryside in search of rest during the Great Depression. Somehow, artists get a pass on these anachronisms because of their fans' similarly dubious feelings regarding genre authenticity. It is a trait unique to this type of music. If a punk band today wrote songs about the scourge of Thatcherism on society, their fans would most likely tune them out.

The Felice Brothers are a challenge to this turn-back-the-clock mindset. While their sound is rooted in the 1950s and '60s, they draw equally from past and present, trying to bridge this gap instrumentally and lyrically. They have the traditional accordion and fiddle, but also feature electric guitar and electric bass. They sing about being stuck in train stations, but note that they have a broken cell phone in their pocket.

When they do play a song about the past, they deliberately frame it as a flashback as opposed to trying to pass it off as the present.

Their most recent record, "Yonder is the Clock," successfully unites the genre's glory days with the new millennium. It feels simultaneously nostalgic and fresh, and offers ample opportunities for foot stomping. The album's high point, "Memphis Flu," has the raucousness and camaraderie of an impromptu jam session, and is even more infectious than the topic disease. "Chicken Wire" is another up-tempo traditional song, but the prominent electric guitar and bass keep it grounded in the present while also producing a decidedly bluesy edge.

Sandwiched between these faster songs are more restrained numbers, which draw heavy influence from Bob Dylan. This inspiration is impossible to ignore when listening to Ian Felice's similarly strained, soulful voice. "The Big Surprise," "Ambulance Man," and "All When We Were Young" could easily have been pulled from Dylan's back catalog. The calculated, yet beautiful harmonies on many of these slower songs evoke the 1967 Basement Tapes sessions on which Dylan and The Band collaborated.

The Felice Brothers are known for their live performances, as they are one of the harder working bands in music. They are coming to Proud Larry's in Oxford on Sept. 19, which promises to be an entertaining and boisterous show. This is one of the rare bands that pays tribute to its roots, yet has a distinct direction in which they want to go. That's an uncommon combination in modern roots music, and it may enable The Felice Brothers to drag the genre back into relevancy.

Mix Tape Fan Promo

From Sean (DontWakethescarecrow.com) Youtube channel

The Duke and The King on NPR

Cornell Daily Raving About The Felice Brothers

Ithaca Heartbeats
Live Music at The Positive Jam
September 8, 2009 - 12:00am
By Ann Lui

link

Here’s the thing about falling in love with a city: it’s all about the complexity. The richness of a place lets the relationship linger and grow over time — people are myriad and varied, the food varieties are endless, the music is always bumpin’.


Sunday was the second of two days of co-sponsored events brought about by Dan Smalls Presents and funded by Ithaca Beer Co. While Brew Fest is widely lauded — if upstate New York constitutes “widely” — Positive Jam is an event that has yet to grow to full maturity. Although it’s less attended and less publicized, I felt on Sunday that I was at the beginning of something big whose potential had not yet been realized.

Nonetheless, bits of Ithaca had been transported to Stewart Park for our enjoyment: in this little microcosm there was the beloved gyro stand from the Commons, Ithaca Brewery’s tasty Pale Ale, local band The Caution Children and that Ithaca dance that everyone here does — tye-dye shirt, moving in a circle, lots of arm movement and kind of a little hop on one foot. More Ray Bans than I have ever seen in one place at one time.

The first headliner (after the local openers and The Rural Alberta Advantage) was Rhode Island band Deer Tick. True-to-heart American music with a kind of dark poetic twist, Deer Tick sounded like the bluesy rock that fuels long nights at the bar talking about your true love, the job you lost, etc. Far from being a stereotype, however, John McCauley’s slightly nasal, drawling voice gave new meaning to any preconceived ideas about country or folk music. The audience, which on Sunday was slow to get going, lingered in the shade during Deer Tick’s set. Their lyrics encouraged a slow roll rather than rambunctious dancing — “I’ve lived lies all my life / and I’ve been living here a long, long time / And it’s been coming down a while now,” Cauley sang in “Art Isn’t Real.” Introspective, indeed.

Makin' sweet, sweet musicMakin' sweet, sweet music

But the audience’s static poses weren’t going to last long: The Felice Brothers came onto the stage like nothing we’d ever seen, wearing face paint, war paint, breaking out into these wild, cross-stage dances as if something was going to explode. They brought out the big guns: an accordion, strange looking guitars, a washboard, a rabid violinist. If you ever doubted that you were going to dance, The Felice Brothers left you no choice.

Fully aware of their presentation and masters of it, Ian Felice and bassist Christmas Clapton – is that a real name? And can I share it with him? – made small talk about picking up indie girls at bars. On stage, they chatted about the weather, made philosophy jokes about Heidegger (“Hi, Digger!” Really?) and played some wild, wild music. It’s like these guys figured out what irony was — learned the genre norms — and decided to say “Fuck it.” “Good days are coming, good days are coming,” they sang — you’re telling me. The Felice Brothers’ set was the best of folk and indie rock, cross-bred with madness.

The Hold Steady, The Positive Jam’s headliners, came to the Ithaca stage with a well-established fan base, having played to a huge crowd at Castaways over the summer. By the time frontman Craig Finn had gotten to the ’80s in his decade-by-decade lyric run-through of the century (that is the start of the title song “The Positive Jam”), the crowd was screaming for more. Especially after two sets of folksy, bluesy rock, The Hold Steady sounded explicitly rock-and-roll.

The Hold Steady is a group of characters. Franz Nicolay, the keyboardist in a Scarface suit, and awesome facial hair, played like nothing we’ve ever heard. Craig Finn himself is the antithesis of what one expects a rock star to look like — until he starts moving, he is just a geeky guy in designer glasses with a sideways smile. But my god, when he starts performing, Finn is a bar room preacher, compassionate and angry by turns. A lyricist at heart, Finn comes off as a history buff (the Kennedys were mentioned at least three times) with a penchant for pop culture and pessimism. We hung on every word. No one’s home town, Americana fetish or local tradition was left untouched by his sarcasm. And yet Finn won us all with this wild, hyper laugh that drove the show — it’s a laugh that says, “I know you in all your failures and inconsistencies — but I love it. And I’m going to make music out of it.”

In “Ask Her For Some Adderall,” Finn told us, “If she asks, don’t tell her that I’ve been living hand-to-mouth / Don’t tell her that I’ve been sleeping on your couch / If she asks just tell her that we opened for The Stones / that’s her favorite band except for The Ramones.” Yes, Finn and The Hold Steady are jaded by love, jaded by life. They’ve done crazy things and deserve to be pessimistic, yet they somehow turn these experiences into anthems. The song that started it all, “The Positive Jam,” which began and ended the set, was the explosive conclusion to the day. “All the sniffling indie kids,” Finn calls out, “Hold steady. All the clustered up clever kids, hold steady. We’re gonna start it with a positive jam. Hold steady.”

Yes, Craig — this Sunday love affair with Ithaca may be the last day of summer, our last day of sharing local beer, green grass and Sundays spent rocking out in the sun. Soon we’ll be consumed by your concerningly precise depiction of life: growing old and jaded, drug addictions, relationships consumed by technology and worse — but we’re going to hold steady, Craig. And stay positive. Your twisted smile, the sunlight through trees over the lake and that feeling of the bass reverberating in my chest is going to last me through the Ithaca winter. By and by, we’ve got to start it off … with a Positive Jam.

Ithaca: setlist and videos

WAITER AT THE STATION




WHISKEY IN MY WHISKEY




WHITE LIMO



The First Band i really saw of the day was Deer Tick who played a nice set from mostly their newest record Born on Flag Day. Jimmy watched the old tourmates from last year from the crowd, and Dave Turbeville watched Dennis Ryans hellacious drumming from behind the stage in apparent astonishment.

The Felice Brothers came out at 400pm and. Ian and Christmas were in Warpaint. and not neatly applied either. Good one hour G, no filler, but really good. The Farley/James comedy repartee on stage is really getting good. They're like the Marx Brothers, and Ian is Groucho. Funny bit about the weather in the set.
Greatest Show
Run Chicken Run
Rioll On Arte
White Limo
Loves Me Tenderly
Whiskey in my Whiskey
Where'd you get the Liquor
Stepdad
River Jordan (Ian says his Gramma says she was a Egyptain in a prior life, he wrote it for her)
Frankies Gun
Godamn u Jim
Take this Bread
Waiter at the Station with Willy Mason (will Put video up on the blog)
Penn Station

Videos from The Chameleon Club in Lancaster

fARLEYS SONG FOR GRAMPS






TAKE THIS BREAD





greatest show
Two hands
Arte
white limo
cooperstown
tenderly
whisky
revolver
liquor
stepdad
River Jordan
Godamn u jim
Chicken Wire
ELECTRIC CHAIR (new Christmas song)
Farley song for gramps
Lou the welterweight
take this bread
St Stephen
Marie
Helen Fry
Chicken Run

Ithaca Journal: wrap up of Positive Jam

The Positive Jam, an all-day music festival held in Stewart Park Sunday, may have drawn its name from a song title by the headlining band The Hold Steady, but seasonably warm weather, reasonably priced local food and a solid line-up of crowd-pleasing rock groups resulted in atmosphere that left the audience of nearly a thousand positively ecstatic. The event was organized by Dan Smalls, the official in-house booker for The State Theatre, and was produced in association with Ithaca Beer Co., which hosted the third annual Brew Fest Saturday with the same stage and facilities. The five bands that performed over the course of the six-hour show Sunday ranged from the furiously energetic classic rock of the headliner to the countrified folk of Providence's Deer Tick, with some indie rock in between. The crowd responded especially positively to the Catskills-based Felice Brothers, who recalled the roots music of The Band. The one local act -- the Ithaca College act Caution Children -- opened with tunes that fit well alongside the rest of the bill. theIthacajournal.com

The Duke and The King: Mission from God

Interview in Yestertday's guardian newspaper



Are they a revivalist folk-soul band or a religious cult? Either way, this charismatic three-piece are on a mission from God
On a late spring evening in west London, on stage amid the restored Edwardian splendour of Bush Hall, Simone Felice was a man possessed – as transfixing as a cult leader, testifying about Jesus, Gandhi and Elvis. This morning, just down the road in Chiswick in the kitchen of his record company boss, he seems a different man.



Not completely different, however. Even sipping chicken stock, the 32-year-old from the Catskills in upstate New York is charismatic – if musicians' jokes are to be believed, a little too charismatic for a drummer. That was supposedly his job in the Felice Brothers, the Americana band he formed with his two younger siblings. His tendency to stray from behind the kit when possessed of the spirit at their gigs meant his departure from the band was, with hindsight, inevitable.

Now Felice has a new title: Duke. That is his role in his new band, the Duke & the King, the latter being 43-year-old drummer and singer Robert "Chicken" Burke. They're joined by new recruit Nowell Haskins ("the Deacon"), a Brooklyn singer of unrevealed age whose father sang with Parliament/Funkadelic. The three call each other "brother"; they kiss, they smile, they look deep into each other's eyes, they high-five; they cry "Amen to that!" when one of them, often standing up, makes a declaration about the band. This really does have all the hallmarks of a cult.

It began casually last winter when, on a break from the day job, Felice got together with Burke, veteran of several funk and soul bands "you'll never have heard of", in his home recording studio. By the end of the winter, they had completed Nothing Gold Can Stay, a beautiful record that takes Felice's evocative, tender lyrics, his soft, rich voice and simple folk melodies, and gives them an undertone of gospel fervour and the deep-burning passion of soul.

The pair bonded over music, but also over pain. Burke brought his love troubles, and for Felice it coincided with the stillbirth of his first child. "Her name was Belle, B-e-l-l-e," he says. "When I met her I saw my own face in her face and it blew my mind. It really changed my life and it was like, 'Life is too short not to listen to the voice in your head. I need to do what my heart tells me.'"

"The Duke & the King is friendship," says Burke, "but it's also a united spirit and focus, about what moves our hearts and what moves other people's hearts." It's also a kind of folk music, he says, but one that embraces Stevie Wonder and Marvin Gaye. "Folk artists as well, but somehow if it was brown it wasn't called folk," he says, rousing Haskins to declare, "Marvin Gaye was as folk as it gets." Felice gives a heartfelt "Amen," then Burke is on his feet proclaiming: "If it's coming out of the gut of America and it's real, you better believe that's folk music." Haskins nods his assent.

"We're building a new little church brick by brick and board by board," Felice says. "That's what I always wanted to do with the Felice Brothers: have a space where, when people come to the show, they feel like a part of it and they're in a little congregation. They can feel free to jump up onstage and sing with us, to testify and to really shake loose the shackles of whatever is holding them down."

So they're a travelling show – troubadours, then, I suggest. Felice is taken with this: "Bringing the songs to the people? Is that what you mean? Fuckin' A – that's what we're doing!" A round of high fives is exchanged between the three. Then he's serious again. "People singing songs have saved my life," he says softly. "That was my psychologist and my Prozac. And I'm just trying to do the same for other people."


From our friend Lonesome Drifter (martin) at Frankies Gun

Positive Jam: Felice Brothers go on at 4:00pm

Fall's Biggest Jam Fest: The Positive Jam
September 3, 2009 - 12:00am
By Julia Woodward link

Some of you may remember my column last Friday when I waxed eloquent about the myriad of musical big-wigs who are en route to our humble town. You may also recall that included in that extra-ordinary line-up were two bands known respectively as The Hold Steady and Deer Tick, and that I gave a shout out to man-of-the-hour Dan Smalls, founder of Dan Smalls Presents, Inc. Well, this weekend, Dan Small Presents … the Positive Jam. Drawing a blank? Please, allow me to explain.

This Saturday, Ithaca Beer Co. will put on its third annual Brew Fest in Stewart Park, complete with live music, over 40 craft beers to taste and Wegman’s catering (specifically attuned to each beer you sample, of course). The event is 21-and-over, however, so don’t even try freshman, or you may join a good friend on the “crappy fake ID” display in Collegetown Wine and Spirits.

BUT, good news frosh, fellow almost-21-year-old seniors! This year, Ithaca Beer Co.’s Dan Mitchell has teamed up with music guru Dan Smalls to add a second day to the festival. So, on Day Two, also known as Sunday, Stewart Park will be open to all ages and there will be some more-than-rockin’ tuneage for your listening pleasure. The idea behind these two events is to revitalize Stewart Park, and as Dan Smalls enthusiastically explained, “show that Stewart Park is a viable venue.” Smalls explained that he and Mitchell had talked about doing something like this for a long time, and that after the sold-out Hold Steady show at Castaways this summer, everything just sort of fell into place. So what’s a little creative ingenuity between Dans? Oh yeah, an awesome festival!

The Hold Steady, an indie classic rock band (is that a genre?), is not only the Jam’s headliner, but also something of a driving force behind its inception. Smalls, who brought the Hold Steady to Ithaca this summer, felt like the college students had been a bit “shortchanged” by the missed opportunity to see the energetic quintet perform live. In a town where bringing the students together with the local talent (which Smalls described as “connecting the dots”) has mega-kryptonic potential, Smalls feels that venues and events that appeal to both groups might be more than even Clark Kent can handle.

The name, Positive Jam, actually comes from a Hold Steady song title, as well as a shared attitude of positivity. The Hold Steady, Smalls says, is a band that’s all about connecting with the audience. The name has meaning for the band, but can appeal to our flower-power culture as well. Birkenstocks forever! The Hold Steady will play at 5:30 p.m. Sunday afternoon, and I highly suggest that you be there. The music is classic rock with a little indie folk thrown in, in the form of harmonica, accordion and a penchant for storyline lyrics. The Brooklyn-based quintet got their start in 2004, and have since released four rockin’ albums, the most recent of which, Stay Positive, encourages listeners, fans, Ithacans, Cornellians to … stay positive. The band occasionally toes the line between classic and Christian rock, faith being a big part of their lyrics, but their music is for everyone, as their upbeat sing-with-me-won’t-you choruses attest to. If you are familiar with “Sequestered in Memphis,” you know what I mean — the song was definitely not my favorite off the album, but the more I listened to it the more I realized that a song which makes you unable to resist singing the word “subpoenaed” is just pretty much f-ing awesome.

Festival “doors” open at noon, and the music goes all day, baby. The opening band will be local Ithaca College boys Caution Children, another indie rock group, who put on one hell of a rousing live show. Performances will continue throughout the day, with The Rural Alberta Advantage at 1:30, Deer Tick at 2:45 and The Felice Brothers at 4:00. The Rural Alberta Advantage is an Arcade-Fire-esque trio that quite literally hails from rural Alberta — a fun fact that comes out in the band’s lyrics. Features an awe-inspiring drummer, and male-female vocal duets that I have never been able to resist. The Felice Brothers are, no not brothers, but actually a five-piece folk rock band that just wants to get lost in the music and the majesty of small-town New York. Hey! I think we can fit that bill!

Deer Tick is folk-grunge with a highly distinctive vocal lead. The group formed in Providence, Rhode Island in 2007 from singer John McCauley’s solo act. They have released two albums in that time: War Elephant in 2007 and, this summer, Born on Flag Day. The album fit into the somewhat unusual category of country-boy lyricist stuck in classic/indie rocker’s body — you can imagine Keith Urban singing the words, but you can’t quite imagine it like Deer Tick does it. The sound is mournful in a searching-for-something-better kind of way that makes you want to raise your beer and commiserate. Guitar solos and the occasional vocal harmony show off Deer Tick at their best, and the refrains meld the country to the indie to the rock flawlessly. Think rocking drums, alternative indie guitar, melancholy vocals. And, we promise, they won’t give you Lyme disease.

Okey dokey, Cornellians. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to gather all your acquaintances from the Cornell bubble and trek it on down to Stewart Park for some absolutely fantastic music. It is recommended that you plan a reconnoitering trip for Saturday afternoon at the same venue (… there may be beer). Seriously, though, guys: The Dans have a mission, and they want you to be a part of it. As Dan Smalls put it: “The whole experience is humbling. This has never been about me, despite what the company name is. It’s about having a great music scene in the town that I live in.” And really, with five such supercalifragilistic acts on the bill, how can you resist? So, go go go — Drink locally, jam positively!

Review: The Duke and The King at City Winery From TV NY1

Link

Nice video on that link


the music group The Duke and the King recently played music off their first CD, "Nothing Gold Can Stay" at the City Winery in Manhattan. The band is a side project for Simon Felice, who ordinarily can be found in the roots rock alt-country Felice Brothers.

Felice and his two brothers grew up playing music in the shadow of "The Band," the all-star band that featured rock legends like Eric Clapton, Neil Diamond, Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Van Morrison, Ringo Starr, Muddy Waters and Neil Young.

The Band's drummer, Levon Helm, lives just down the block.

"Grew up with music and our dad was a carpenter. He had played some tapes and we got hooked and then no turning back," says Felice.

While he grew up in a one-horse town, Felice is quick to point out that it did have a library. It is no accident that his literary background finds its way into his songwriting.

"'Born Again Get To Hell' is kind of just inspired by going to hell. Dante wrote so eloquently about it, but I didn't write as eloquently as him," says Felice. "This [book] was about this thick and ours is about three minutes 45 seconds long."

The band's name borrows from two characters in Mark Twain's novel "Adventures Huckleberry Finn" who are con artists who claim they are the king of France and an English duke. Felice plays the Duke, Robert Burke plays the King, and they share royalties as they co-author the songs.

"Simon and I go back writing songs together for at least a decade and he had a bunch of songs piling up that he wanted to
do," says Burke. "And we started to collaborate on them and we were just having so much fun that we went down that road together."

Fans of the Duke and the King will hear some familiar sounds.

"In Duke and the King we found some nice ways to do some of the older Felice Brothers' songs,"

the Duke and the King: Live at Paste Magazine

Link

MIX TAPE ALBUM: Review

The Mix Tape CD has finally arrived as The Felice Brothers hit the road on the Fall leg of their world tour. I greeted this wondrous gift with subdued expectations, seeing it was likely a album of outtakes, and a gift for hardcore fans who are a small but loyal crew. Many of these songs are well known to fans who have heard some of these numbers in the live shows for months or years. Much to most fans delight will be the inclusion of longtime requested number "White Limo" on this set of nine songs. (No its not called "Cincinnati Queen"). The drums are manned, by Simone Felice (New Mexico and Captain's Wife), Dave Turbeville (Forever Green, Ahab, Let Me Come Home), and Jeremy "The Searcher" Backofen (White Limo, Marlboro Man, Marie).

The first track is a standout acoustic ballad "Forever Green" , which sounds like an older song from perhaps the Iantown era. It features beautiful fiddle from Greg Farley and some wonderful lyrics by Ian Felice, of the occupational hazards of love.
"Ahab" with Christmas taking lead vocal, follows, apparently inspired by his reading the Melville classic in the past year. Christmas compares his plight in love with the monomaniacal captain of the Pequod. "White Limo" furnished with new lyrics, is an explosive success. Unlike "Memphis Flu", from Yonder is the Clock, which mostly failed to capture the energy it had on stage and stumbled, "Limo" brings the music up to date. The best show closing number from a mainstream rock unit since "Rosalita", (and featuring a similar swirling organ frenzy) it packs a massive 3 minute wallop.

white legs, white lies, white wedding gown
just a little red to paint the town.
could you meet me at the ghetto gate(s)?
where the goons, and the grifters wait


Searcher's heavy hands provide a powerful backbeat.

A James Felice song, apparently written mostly as a teen, follows. "Let Me Come Home" cools off the listener after the barn-burning "White Limo". A mature tale of the prodigal son returning home (Luke 15:11-32) Jimmy pleads with his family for forgiveness, as his weary soul longs for their acceptance;

"My Brother, I know that i stole her,
but brother you did not own her.
Brother, you were a friend of mine,
and i thought you'd be with me on that firing line"

One of the finest songs James has written and sounds like an instant classic. "Captain's Wife" is a smokey barroom number in the vein of "Helen Fry" or "Cypress Grove", with Ian on lead vocal. Not sure if this songs heroine has any relationship to Mary Anne Patten, the 19th century wife of a ship's captain, who became a great symbol for feminism over the next 100 years, but it wouldn't be the first time Ian has tackled such a heroine, (Edith Cavell, "St. Stephens End").
"New Mexico" is a James Felice tune that likely borrows more from his major literary influences (Cormac McCarthy) than any rock and roll muse. "Blood Meridien" was a likely nicked before by Ian, (Reverend Green in "Wonderful Life") and this violent tale, also compared often to Melville's "Moby Dick" is an apparent influence. James sings it wonderfully, with Ian taking the lower register.
"17 Years" is a piano ballad that sounds like it could have been on the "Big Empty" album. Its the tale of a young friend who washes ashore in Tarrytown, Ny. Its a sad goodbye, to his friend, and youth.

"Stood outside your window, I couldn't see within
Your curtains faintly stirring like a restless living thing
i lit a smoke as morning broke
i knew it would be a while
before i find piece of mind"

"Marie" follows, with the most stunning songwriting Ian Felice has flashed since "Frankie's Gun". Like "Frankie", this number is instantly recognizable, with lyrics that are clever, funny and memorable. Each verse is sung by a different member of the band, with Greg Farley's contribution being especially delicious,

"I thought i was sharp enough,
I read Moby Dick and stuff
I guess i ain't smart enough for you,
All i'm asking you Marie
is spend one more fare on me
Give me one more night"

"Marlboro Man" from the Daytrotter Sessions, is updated here with a much spookier, electrified sound. Its another standout track. It features beautiful guitar work by Ian as well as nice accents by James and Greg.

One surprise, is the lack of inclusion of Greg Farley's standout tune, "Song for Gramps" as a tenth track. It sounds like one of their better songs, from its live performances of late and perhaps they are saving it for a more official release in the spring of 2010.

Mix Tape if it is just a series of outtakes, still has excellent continuity as the theme of unattainable love runs throughout the record. It also may be one of their best collection of songs. While it doesn't boast the unique sound of their debut album with it horn and vocal arrangements, and the brilliant production of Searcher, (in fact this album sounds as it were simply recorded live in the chicken coop studio near their home), it contains songs that will likely become a big part of the Felice Brothers history. Mostly it shows why they are quickly becoming an American treasure, this is their 5th release in the last 3 years, and the second album in six months. They are not caught up in the hype that surrounds the band, or building cults of personality, they are keeping it "real", doing one for the fans, again, and moving on down the road.

-special thanks to a certain person who helped with some of the details that i missed.

Digger

Nothing Gold can Stay: Great review in Rolling Stone Germany

The Album takes the top spot in the Critics charts and a 4 star review!! link below

“The duo created ten fascinating beautiful happy-sad-songs that will be part of the best we heard of in 2009, till the end of this year and beyond.”

“Singing about New Yorks street kids in the 80s, about the parking lot that Jesus forgot about and mama’s bad pills, and thereby being rooted that deep in the 70s [...] while letting it sound as if it really concerns us nowadays – no, there was no other before that managed it that convincingly and affectingly like Simone Felice.”

“”And, boy did I want my MTV” – you never expected such line affecting you that strongly.”

“Golden moments, that will stay.”

AWESOME!!!

link

THe Duke and the King at the Iota Review

Words by: Donald Lusk | Images by: Avalon Peacock/myspace.com/dukeandtheking

The Duke and the King :: 08.16.09 :: Iota Café :: Arlington, VA

The Duke & The King
This past winter, Felice Brothers drummer/songwriter Simone Felice and his good friend Robert "Chicken" Burke holed themselves up in a cabin in the Catskills region to work on some songs. With shimmering harmonies and a cracked country-soul core, their CD Nothing Gold Can Stay arrived to universal critical acclaim in early August. They set out on a two-week tour of the East Coast, and I was lucky to catch one of the first shows in Philadelphia at the First Unitarian Church. I needed more than that though, so I was pleased to see that the tour wound down somewhat nearby in Arlington, VA.

The Duke & The King are comprised of Simone Felice, of The Felice Brothers, in the lead role as frontman and guitarist. Burke, The King, comes by way of Sweet Honey in the Rock, doubles on bass and drums. Nowell Haskins (The Deacon) is the main drummer (although on any given song they each could play someone else's instrument) and a sultry violinist by the name of Simi rounds out the quartet. One might be surprised by the lack of Felice-like rowdiness, but the same warmth and camaraderie associated with the Brothers clearly is the order of the day here as well.

Iota is a small restaurant/bar in the middle of Arlington, and felt homey as the crowd began to form. The Duke & The King made their way to the stage, and after brief hellos, went into "Don't Wake the Scarecrow," a Felice Brothers classic. In the Felice's hands it's a brooding postcard of a prostitute's life that builds to a slow climax. Live at Iota, it was like a work of deconstructive punk, with Simone parsing out the lyrical phrases over staccato runs of his hollow body guitar. An intense performance ended when The Deacon alone was given the song's final verse.

Simone Felice
With "The Morning I Get To Hell" from the new CD, the music became warmer. The combination of the three voices formed some beautiful peaks and valleys, almost like a hip-hop inspired Crosby, Stills and Nash. Next up was "Union Street," and again the vocals soared. On a song that goes from small town drug use to the need to have "all the houses lit up on Union Street," it's the quasi-psychedelic chorus that drives home the longing of having the whole world together again. They switched gears and left the stage entirely to Robert The King to perform "I've Been Bad." Really a fragment of a song, with three simple lines over an acoustic folk vamp, The Kings's voice shined as he detailed his regrets.

Back with the full group, Simone hits into "Water Spider," a sweet song about Harriet Tubman, amongst others. This song contains a key line when discussing these performers: "Jesus walked on water, but so did Marvin Gaye." It embodies the spirit of both the CD and performance, where they aspire to the quality of 1970s vocalizations. "Summer Morning Rain," with its hopeful take on a winter loss, benefited from beautiful lines from Simi's violin. "Radio Song," a Felice Brothers favorite with its chorus of "Please don't you ever die," got the Iota crowd singing and swaying to the groove. After a cover of Neil Young's "Helpless," the band finished up with "One More American Song." Sort of a continuation of "Union Street," it's a personal tale of longing and hopefulness amid returning damaged army boys and the likelihood that we will never all again be singing the same song in this fragmented world. Here, Simone breathes new life into the dream of everyone being "the best of friends and the music sewed us together," while lamenting, "Gasoline ain't gonna take us that way again." Passionately delivered, the group stepped off the stage and began the hug fest that dominates the end of their shows, where the bond between the performers and audience is tight.

The Duke & The King won over many converts at Iota, as well across the Northeast. They will continue to evolve into Simone's dream of a vocal soul band. The players have terrific chemistry, and the care they show for each other resonates from the stage and beyond. On their way to the U.K. currently, I can't wait for their return so I can hear one more American song.

link

Cooperstown hailed in Paste Magazine

Any time you can mix ghosts, baseball, and Bob Dylan into the same song, you're doing all right. That's what The Felice Brothers do on their song "Cooperstown" from their latest album Yonder Stands the Clock.

It's hazy and indistinct, propelled by accordion wheezes and guitar strums, and those snarling Dylan words that are, impossibly, written and sung by somebody named Ian Felice. And like a lot of the songs that Dylan sings, it communicates a great deal without making a lot of literal sense. The ghost of Ty Cobb wanders the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York. There's a church service, perhaps a funeral, going on. And then we're back in 1905, a young Ty Cobb on the basepaths, a young woman watching him from the stands. And from there it gets seriously weird and metaphysical.

For those who may not be familiar with the man, Ty Cobb may have been the greatest baseball player to ever play the game. And he was universally despised; a mean, contentious sonofabitch who never had a kind word for anybody, and who came into a base with spikes flying, determined to injure any poor schlep who happened to be between him and his goal. In the summer of 1905, his mother gunned down his father. Three weeks later, he played his first game for the Detroit Tigers. And he spent the next 21 years with a chip on his shoulder, daring anyone to stand in his way.

So a line like "he had a game like a war machine" sounds just about perfect to me, as does the line about the wolves that stand between first and third. I think I've been in that game. It's a great song; a fever dream of a bygone era, poetry excavated from the Georgia clay, simultaneously earthy and transcendent.

American Songwriter interview with Simone Felice

by JEWLY HIGHT

Link

Simone Felice’s journey from his sibling-led group, The Felice Brothers, to his new band with Robert “Chicken” Burke, The Duke & The King, lends itself to various interpretations. Sonically, it marks a shift from country-rock leanings to mellowed, harmony-sweetened country-soul, though he considers both styles incidental: “The Felice Brothers don’t try to sound like that—they just sound like that. And for me, it’s the same.”

Lyrically, Felice intensified The Felice Brothers’ literary sensibilities, weaving strong narrative threads through the ten songs on The Duke & The King’s debut, Nothing Gold Can Stay.

But nothing gets at the heart of Felice’s move from one to the other like generational theory. He was The Felice Brothers’ sole Gen X-er (everybody else being of Generation Y), and had a full decade on the youngest band member. For a group built on close familial ties, spirited music and the scrappy, collective pursuit of an audience, that didn’t matter. Until it did.

Not that Felice had put the generational difference into words before being asked to during the interview for this article: “I didn’t sit down and think of it that way. But when you articulate it that way, it does make a lot of sense… I’m at a little different place in my life and I’ve had a lot of time on earth to have the kind of tragedies and jubilance that it takes to maybe write some different kinds of songs.”

(No doubt, one of the tragedies he’s alluding to is losing the baby he and his longtime partner were expecting last winter. He told fans of the experience—and his new musical venture—in an open letter.)

A song Felice contributed to the latest Felice Brothers album, Yonder Is the Clock, foreshadowed the direction he’d pursue on Nothing Gold; “All When We Were Young” is a reflection on youthful freedom receding in the rearview. “When I wrote “All When We Were Young”—I never really thought about it this way, but you just sort of brought it out of me—it opened that door,” says Felice. “The Duke & The King record, it’s all just true stories about the way my heart felt when I was a little kid, when I first got turned on to music.”

With Burke, a longtime friend who’s worked with George Clinton and a capella group Sweet Honey In the Rock, Felice captured a particular season of life, one still close enough to youth to call to mind its innocent—and not-so-innocent—pleasures in detail, but beyond the point of retrieving them. Between album opener “If You Ever Get Famous,” pivotal tracks “Still Remember Love” and “Union Street” and closer “One More American Song,” a group of friends go from cruising around with ripped jeans, big dreams and fervently shared musical tastes to adulthood’s isolation and narrowing possibilities.

All that’s to say, Felice’s new project pursues different themes than his work with The Felice Brothers. But there’s important continuity, too. Yonder is a Mark Twain reference; so is The Duke & The King, the names of two swindlers in Huckleberry Finn.

“Here they are rolling down the river, and they’re setting up these bootleg Shakespeare shows,” Felice summarizes. “And it reminded me of how The Felice Brothers used to be when we first started. We used to just drive up and down the Hudson River and play anywhere we could, in any bar, in any subway…. And then also what happens to the Duke and the King is that they get tarred and feathered, obviously, at the end. So, for me, when it came time for us to say, ‘Hey, what are we going to call ourselves,’ [I said], ‘Man, if we call ourselves the duke and the king, then it’ll remind us that we need to be honest and to never roll down that road to getting tarred and feathered.’”

Hometown: Catskill Mountains, New York

Age: 32

An early musical influence: My mom had the Joni Mitchell record Blue and she played it everyday.

Glide Magazine review of "Nothing Gold can Stay"

The Duke & The King
Nothing Gold Can Stay
By Doug Collette
August 26, 2009


Glide Mag


It would demean The Duke and The King to say it's an offshoot of The Felice Brothers, but Nothing Gold Can Stay does radiate the same rustic (thought slightly ominous) charm of the Catskill Mountain clan’s music.

Simone Felice teams with George Clinton/Sweet Honey in the Rock staple Robert "Chicken" Burke to produce a piece of work that, by dint of a density rooted in detailed production more than compensates for its abbreviated running time (just over thirty minutes).
This painstaking approach, in turn, is a reflection of the carefully-wrought material. "If You Ever Get Famous" is a simple benediction, couched in honest skepticism, cushioned with affection, the emotional content mirrored in the clarity of the acoustic guitars at the heart of the arrangement. If the drum machines sound quietly and irritatingly mechanical within "The Morning I Get to Hell," they're meant to: the singer imagines commiserating with Lucifer in the devil’s eternal playground.

Felice’s fragile voice and tender delivery are particularly affecting as he sings "Still Remember Love," and equally so when, in "Union Street," he addresses the "prettiest girl in town;" meanwhile the quiet horror of 9/11 in New York City haunts in the background of the latter cut via the deeply resonating bass and resounding though muffled drums.

The artist’s pseudonyms taken from Mark Twain's Huck Finn, Nothing Gold Can Stay’s ornate package features a vintage television and a four-track cassette tape but sounds and feels utterly contemporary. When the ambient rush of "Lose My Self" gives way to the back-porch simplicity of "Suzanne," the dobro, harmonica and soft falsetto may not directly recall Bob Dylan and The Band's Basement Tapes, but hearken to that rootsy approach. Yet The Duke and The King, in quietly melancholy but ultimately optimistic songs such as "Summer Morning Rain" and "One More American Song," transcend those influences and any easy comparisons.

The Duke and the King in Ragged Words

”What’s the use you learning to do right, when it’s troublesome to do right and ain’t no trouble to do wrong and the wages is just the same.”
Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Chapter. 16.

It was inevitable that Jim and Huckleberry Finn would meet at least one or two charlatans. But two together? The two grafters, drifters from all around, were known simply as The Duke and The King. One was youngish, around thirty, the other much older around seventy. The Duke, of Bridgewater, proclaimed himself his father’s rightful successor and The King claimed – why wouldn’t you know it – himself the rightful King of France. Aboard the make-shift raft Jim and Finn assembled, one pair leads the other into trouble, scheming their way down the Mississippi.

But no one’s scheming here.

The Duke and King here are Simone Felice and Robert Burke respectively. This, their debut album, is homespun from the roving world of the southern states, created by the very environment around the two freebirds. The ten tracks assembled encompass the wild wide world out there. Simone on vocals brings C,S,N&Y to mind or Jeff Buckley perhaps. The former due in turn to the beautiful bending, folding melodies and sincerity; the latter due to the buzzing reverb, the ghostly high notes floating around in the background, the emotional waves. The guitars range from the simple chords of ‘If you get famous’ to the fuzzy, crashing highlight that is ‘Lose Myself.’ There are not a lot of bands around these days, let alone a duet, that can emulate the meandering qualities on show here.

Though there is exceptionally fraught, fragile heartache and heartbreak here, there are tender moments like ‘Still Remember’ that edge closer to enjoyable pop and away from the bluesy folk for a while. ‘Nothing Gold Can Stay’ is a breath of fresh air. It’s that salon door opening out into the clear skies. It’s a gentle ship on a rolling river. What the album misses in instant pop hooks, it splashes about here and there with gorgeous simplicity; some gospel honesty, some elevated touches of bliss and some very beautifully crafted moments. Every word is meant. Every confused, rattled emotion is pointedly displayed for those willing to listen. They should form a super-uber group with Fleet Foxes and bask in the winning results; sleep on mattresses stuffed with money on their gigantic riverboats and enjoy a rockstar booze cruise down the Mississippi and off into a blazing horizon.

http://www.raggedwords.com/

Mixtape Album: tracklist

1. Forever Green
2. Ahab
3. White Limo
4. Let Me Come Home
5. Captain's Wife
6. New Mexico
7. 17 Years
8. Marie
9. Marlboro Man

pick up a copy at the upcoming Felice Brothers dates.

available on tour only.

September 2009
Wednesday 2 | German House, Rochester, NY - more info
Thursday 3 | Oberlin College / Dionysus Club, Oberlin, OH - more info
Friday 4 | Mohawk Place, Buffalo, NY - more info
Saturday 5 | Chameleon Club, Lancaster, PA - more info
Sunday 6 | The Positive Jam, Ithaca, NY - more info
Friday 18 | Von Braun Center / Opening for OCMS, Huntsville, AL - more info
Saturday 19 | Proud Larry's, Oxford, MS - more info
Sunday 20 | George's Majestic Lounge, Fayetteville, AR - more info
Tuesday 22 | Santa Fe Brewing Co., Santa Fe, NM - more info
Sunday 27 | Grey Eagle Tavern & Music Hall, Asheville, NC - more info
Monday 28 | The Pour House, Charleston, SC - more info
Tuesday 29 | The 40 Watt, Athens, GA - more info

October 2009
Saturday 3 | Austin City Limits Festival, Austin, TX - more info
Saturday 3 | Official ACL Aftershow at Emo's Inside, Austin, TX - more info
Monday 12 | Lido, Berlin, Germany - more info
Tuesday 13 | Ubel und Gefahrlich, Hamburg, Germany - more info
Wednesday 14 | Kulturkirche, Cologne, Germany - more info
Thursday 15 | Atomic, Munich, Germany - more info
Saturday 17 | Brudenell Social Club-SOLD OUT, Leeds, UK, England - more info
Sunday 18 | Whelans, Dublin, Ireland - more info
Monday 19 | The Glee Club, Birmingham, UK, England - more info
Tuesday 20 | Academy 3, Manchester, England - more info
Thursday 22 | Shepherds Bush Empire, London, UK, England - more info
Saturday 24 | Paradiso (upstairs), Amsterdam, Netherlands - more info
Monday 26 | Tivoli, Utrecht, Netherlands - more info

Washington City Paper: Interview with James Felice

http://www.washingtoncitypaper.com/blogs/blackplasticbag/2009/08/22/ordinary-madness-an-interview-with-james-felice/


“Hey, there’s an interview goin’ on in here, asshole!” James Felice calls out the door of the Winnebago in the direction of guitar music. His brother Ian is strumming outside with a wild-eyed, fu-manchu’ed man named Searcher, who is singing along in falsetto.

Searcher pokes his head through the passenger’s side window. “Hey, you don’t need to call people ‘asshole,’ douchebag!”

Ian’s nasal voice arrives with the crown of his head at the side door. “I had to get the secret cigarette I keep here.” He produces a cigarette from somewhere.

“There’s only one? Ah, fuck.” says James.

“Yeah, and you don’t get one, you know why?” says Searcher through the front window.

“There’s an interview goin’ on in here!”

These are the Felice Brothers at home. They’ve lived in the beat-up Winnebago for the duration of their summer tour opening for Old Crow Medicine Show—the two brothers, their bassist, their fiddle player, two drummers, and their tour manager. It’s a crowded little cavern, with every surface buried beneath clothes, books, and miscellaneous clutter. There’s a tub full of beer, wine, and ice on the floor inside the door. James has poured us Delirium Nocturnum ale in plastic cups.

“Even though I specifically asked him to get a cigarette for you and I, do you know why you don’t get one now?” says Searcher.

“No, I was calling Ian the asshole,” James explains, grinning.

“Let’s smoke a cigarette, then!”

“I’m doing an interview here!”

“Yeah? Maybe he wants to interview me too.” Searcher has climbed in and is now kneeling backwards on the front passenger’s seat. Ian, meanwhile, has begun smoking the cigarette. “I’m in the band, does he even know who I am?”

I know he’s the drummer, but only because James told me a few minutes earlier. (The third Felice brother, Simone, had been the drummer before he left the band in June to start a new project.) I feel I should speak.

“You’re Searcher.”

“See!” Seacher says triumphantly. “Apparently some people know who I am. Who are you? James Felice? The fuck.”

On stage, the Felice Brothers aren’t much different. They drink, they smoke, they stumble into one another, they laugh and fuck around and improvise. They invite the audience in on the party; then sometimes they’re so preoccupied with their own shenanigans they seem to forget the audience is there. These moments of exclusivity are as seductive the band’s gregariousness. You want to be in on the joke.

In the beginning, the Felice Brothers were just playing for themselves. The sons of non-musical parents in upstate New York, the three oldest boys were a band—playing at their father’s cookouts—long before they had achieved any level of mastery on their instruments. “We were really the only ones listening to us,” says James, who ditched piano for the accordion when the brothers trekked south to busk in Manhattan subway stations. Now he plays both.

One of the more appealing aspects of the Felice Brothers’ music is its intimacy. Dancing and clowning around to their own music, they tend to look like jubilant (read: drunk) members of their own audience who happen to be holding instruments. Now, as they’ve started getting picked up to tour with acts like Conor Oberst and Old Crow, the audience has gotten bigger and farther away.

“The last two weeks, we’ve been playing these huge places with Old Crow and Gil and Dave [Gillian Welch and David Rawlings] and stuff,” he says. “The show changes a little bit, you know? It’s less—like, when you’re playing a little bar with a 150 people, they’re right there, and you can grab beers from them, or yell at them, and they can yell at you, or they come on stage and fuck around with you, and there’s no security or anything so it’s all very free-flowing, and the only reason you’re still playing is because they haven’t come on stage and fuckin’ stopped you yet, you know what I’m saying? So there’s like a push-and-pull with the audience when you’re right down there with ‘em. ‘Cause if they’re not having fun then they don’t fuckin’ care, they’ll leave, or they’ll throw beer at you, or trash the stage, you know? So when you’re playing these big places, and there’s all sorts of security and shit, it’s much more of a show. Much more of a theatrical thing, I guess. So the playing has to be better—you can’t get away with anything anymore, ‘cause not everyone’s drunk.”

“Do you have to drink less before the show?” I ask.

“Eeeee no,” James says, and laughs. “Yeah, kinda, you want to. And it’s more responsibility. Playing in small shows is probably funner. It’s definitely funner. But I think you can express yourself more with the big shows, ‘cause there’s lights and stuff, and the sound is usually like a hundred times better. You get to play rockstar”—he refills my beer, adding, “—kind of, in a weird, sad sort of way.”

He mutters these last few words under a grin. I don’t pursue it, but I think about it later while transcribing my tape of the interview. I can’t decide which he finds weird and sad: the idea that they could play rockstars, or the concept of ‘playing rockstar’ in general. It might have been the former—a token nod to the self-deprecation you’re supposed to exhibit in interviews. But then, the Felice Brothers’ entire act does seem to mock the rockstar pose. It’s messy, unglamorous, unadorned; there’s an overwhelming sense that hey, these are just regular folks. It’s no coincidence that their albums are relentlessly compared to The Basement Tapes—recordings made by Bob Dylan and The Band in the basement of a house about 20 miles from where the Felice Brothers grew up. One of the most critically acclaimed compilations when it was eventually released, The Basement Tapes were distinctly anti-rockstar: recorded desultorily and, at least originally, for the sole pleasure of the players.

James Felice claims that he and his bandmates have never listened to The Basement Tapes. “I don’t even really feel like it,” he says, chuckling. “First of all, I don’t know why we sound like that, ‘cause I never heard it. But you know I don’t really give a fuck. Who fuckin’ cares, you know, we play the kind of music that we want to play, and if people think it sounds like fuckin’ Bela Fleck, or Beethoven, or fuckin’ mystery jizz, I don’t really give a shit.”

When the Felice Brothers aren’t busy not listening to The Basement Tapes, they often listen to musicians they sound absolutely nothing like: hip-hop artists. This might seem surprising, but it makes more sense than you’d think. “The similarities between country and hip-hop are amazing,” James says. “Coming up in poor places, you sing about the same sort of things, like money, about girls, about guns, about your ride, your mother—the whole gamut’s the same. You know, Jimmie Rogers was, like, the father of modern country, you know, and he’s always singing about his ‘gat’—he used the word ‘gat,’ that’s where it came from!”

Outside of music, the Felice Brothers’ influences, James says, are largely literary. “We read a shitload,” he explains. “If we just wrote about how we live, our songs would be pretty boring. They’d all be about riding around in a Winnebago, or sitting around at home not knowing what to do, or going to a bar, feeling really awkward for an hour, and going home.” A quick survey of the Winnebago turns up a litter of dog-eared paperbacks—The Sun Also Rises, The Portable Nietszche, Tales of Ordinary Madness. “Faulkner, Hemingway, McCarthy, Thomas Pyncheon. Russian literature… Just anything we can get our hands on.” One particularly influential muse has been Cormac McCarthy, author of No Country for Old Men, whom James says he has been reading since he was 15. He says he’s glad for McCarthy’s newfound fame, but can’t help but feel protective of what had been, until, recently, his own personal discovery. I begin to understand his frustration about being pegged as a derivative of The Basement Tapes.

“When we started, we didn’t even think about it,” he says. “We played that kind of music because we loved that kind of music—but also all we had was an acoustic guitar. You know, what other kind of music are we going to play?”

As for the next record, James says anything is game—synthesizers, orchestral arrangements, whatever. “It’s going places that are weird and scary, probably. Hopefully. You can’t play the same music your whole life.”

Washington City Paper on the Rte 29 Revue in Columbia MD

the Felice Brothers, an outfit of Yankee good ol’ boys from upstate New York. The Felice Brothers honed their chops in juke joints and subway stations and recorded their first two albums in a chicken coop, so they seemed out a bit out of place on the Merriweather stage. But it was clear right away that we were to play by their rules. Everybody was out of their seats by the second song, clapping and singing along to “Whiskey in My Whiskey,” “Run Chicken Run,” and Townes Van Zandt’s “Two Hands”—struggling all the while to match the energy of the band, whose members would run in circles, crash into each other, and take turns dancing on top of the kick drum (occasionally whaling on the cymbals with a washboard).


Link

BYT: The Felice Brothers win the Battle of the Bands

http://www.brightestyoungthings.com/live-dc/live-dc-route-29-iron-wine-felice-brothers-levon-helm-et-al-merriweather/#comment-265040





Live DC: Route 29 (Iron & Wine, Felice Brothers, Levon Helm et al) @ Merriweather
August 18, 2009 by Peter ShareThis Send to a Friend Send to a Friend

all photos by: Paul Goodman
all words by: Peter Heyneman

There comes a time in a man’s life where he falls gently into the lap of a big fat sunlight festival of a certain variety. It’s roughly about the same time that it becomes more appropriate for him to sing the Eagles than R. Kelly at karaoke night. When you’re young you avoid the fields and the mudpits and overpriced water because you’re both broke and well stocked in badass rock and roll at the local VFW thanks very much, but somehow one day you’re 30 and lying sunburned on a towel with a half-drunk on and the sun’s setting and Wilco or something is playing on the other side of a football field and you get up and dance with the dirty-feeting teenagers from Southern Maryland because goddamn it you have to work tomorrow and every day for the rest of your life. So I jumped about a mile out of my desk chair when I saw the line-up for the Route 29 show at Merriweather Post this Sunday, and I had to borrow a car and head out there. I couldn’t do it every weekend, or even more than say, twice a year, but a long down-home country-alt fest just hits the spot sometimes, almost like hiking, or going to mass and receiving the wafer and the wine. Sometimes being bored and depressed is as close to relaxed as old folks can get.

Justin Jones looked hot and sounded somewhat disappointed by the milling steamy mass. “Is this a High School talent show? I hope we win,” he told the muttering khaki folks as they started filing in at 3:30. Their music isn’t going to win any awards for originality but after I left the big iron tent in front of the stage and lay on the grass under the furnace with my shoes off and pulled a tiny airplane bottle of Jack Daniels out of my pocket and dumped it into a 4 dollar pink Gatorade and chugged it as his steel guitar soaked regretfully through the air then I started feeling it a lot more better. He’s a handsome handsome man, I’ll give him that; hunched up there on the big screen he looked like a lost fighter pilot waiting for a chopper out of Hanoi still running guns into Cambodia. “The first prize is tickets to the big football game again St. Mary’s,” he claimed. I could tell it was going to be a day like that, I could tell.

The Felice Brothers were one of the main reasons I came along to this show and they managed to defy both the heat and the marked lack of drunkenness to get everyone to believe it was 2am on a Friday at a shitty blues pub in Knoxville. They popped out and started blasting through boozy, messy, limestone slabs of folk rock with the same No Limit Records baller bullshit attitude that makes the Black Lips better than a garage band too. How the fuck is this fair? Somehow these kids from Upstate NY who moved to Brooklyn and wore vests and stupid porkpie hats and worshiped Café Wha and memorized Richard Farina and smoked a million cigarettes (kids of which type there are only 8 million in NY) dug themselves a hole so deep they hit real gravel, the gravel left there by a construction company in the mid-70s making a mausoleum for Ramblin’ Jack to lie down in. Ian Felice’s voice sound 1000 years old and his wispy mustache and goofy overly serious stoned expression make you believe he traded all his marbles for it with the devil, who loves to play marbles, even now.

The other brother James is huge and smokes while he bends over the Wurlitzer. They played sea shanties and land shanties. The fiddle player hit a cymbal with his washboard. They played a song about Jesus and Old Crow Medicine Show dudes snuck out and rattled stuff and played electric guitars. They fell out of tune and they stood on the amps and somehow made a song about a dead chicken seem fucking portentous. When they were done they all hugged each-other wildly and threw their stupid hats in the air. It was obvious; improbably, and against all odds, they had won the Battle of the Bands. I felt so close to Paradise that I could actually sense Beatrice’s hand slip into mine firmly and pull upwards, into the burning circle of the center of existence that spins forever at the tiptop of the diamond shaped universe.

Then Grace Potter came out wearing a totally ridiculous shimmery dress that made her boogie knees stick out like whack-a-moles and vamped like a bobo 90s Aretha and it hit me: I had heatstroke. Her music would be perfect if I was trying to get my Dad laid but it sounded utterly phony and slick after the gorgeous outlaws that just played so I went into the way-back of the giant field and lat on a shady bench and stared into the trees and imagined what it will be like to be dead until she was over. Wait! No she was doing an encore by popular demand of herself. “Thanks a lot we’re done slight pause do you want to hear some more really aw shucks!” Maybe if I was not dehydrated and sobering up it would have been less grating, but she sounded like that Black Velvet bitch backed up my Southern Country On the Skids. Barf. I did.

After way too long to get all of her shit out of there Sam Beam walked out with a magnificent beard glowing in the sunset and whispered courageously into a maw of yodeling drunks for 45 minutes. I’ve been an insane fan of his since I heard Jesus the Mexican Boy on a pirate college radio station (MAX ALT HIT POINTS UNLOCKED) and I never went to see him live because I was sure I would be bored without the overdriven dual harmonies recorded on cheap analog tape. I was not wrong, but it was that sleepy hippie boredom I’d been craving. Half-dozing to the familiar songs played flawlessly and nimbly, I realized at one point that a weird muted singalong had started and he was singing the harmony part of Sodom South Georgia to the crowd murmuring the melody and stopping at the ends of the lines, bringing a thousand people to dead silence. I wanted to give him a big Felice Brothers hug, but I doubt he is not a hologram or Civil War phantom. Nobody with a beard that luxuriant could be corporeal.

By the time Levon Helm’s “band” came out and made mediocre middle aged Blues noises I was in the happy field place where I don’t really give a shit what goes on as long as I’m drinking vaguely bobbing and stomping in the dust with the rest of the beggars. Two bronze teenage chicks from West Virginia sexydanced together completely oblivious to the boys who brought them there. A massive meathead with arms like willow roots poking out of his tie-dyed tanktop hunched under his lowbrimmed terps cap and stepped from foot to foot brandishing two Bud-lite bottles as totems. Levon Helm of the Band was too old and sick to sing so various kindhearted session musicians did it for him but nobody cared and the sun went down cheerfully.


Old Crow Medicine Show was great but I was complexly erased by that point. I’m really really glad they exist, because bluegrass is really as punk rock as Blues or Irish toodle shit and Jon Spencer and the Pogues already exist so why not? Traditional fans and rednecks and garage rockers and hardcore Boston dudes and bronze WV teenagers can get behind it, but my brain hurt. They just jumped around a lot or something as far as I know, but my knees were shot and night time is hardly the right time for loud fiddle music, even if they’re doing Eric Burdon and Stones covers, so I went home woozy and joyful before they even did Wagon Wheel, which I bet they did right after I left goddamnit. I’ll put it on twice next time I’m at the Tune Inn just for revenge against myself.

Let me put it this way, there’s only a certain portion of your life that will be golden, the proximity of which is like the physical body of a girl you have a hopeless crush on—when she’s there, you’re useless, so don’t try to do anything. You only figure this out once you’re old though, when the information doesn’t do you any good. The best you can do is be very very still and let things pass by you without thinking about them too much, blunting your overactive imagination against the walls of your tomb as it’s being built, brick by brick, until you are just nothing, the blue sweet melted dregs of a snowcone at the bottom of a styrofoam cup, tilted back, touching the lips, then gone, forever. See you next year!

The Duke and the King get notice from Live Power Rankings (DC)

3. The Duke & The King, Iota, Sunday

Bad timing for the band on this one. The Duke & the King features Simone Felice, former drummer of the Felice Brothers, getting out from behind the kit and taking center stage for a hushed folk thing. It just so happened that his old band was playing as part of the Route 29 Revue the same night, along with the likes of Levon Helm, Old Crow Medicine Show and Iron & Wine up at Merriweather Post Pavilion. So this was another show with a small crowd, but once again the band was in a great mood, maybe because it was the final night of the tour. The sleepy sound of the album was greatly enhanced by an additional drummer and violinist, and when everyone sang in unison it was more folk-gospel-soul than the '70s AM folk on the album. Felice also has plenty of frontman charisma and is a solid storyteller. A band to keep an eye on.

http://voices.washingtonpost.com/postrock/2009/08/live_last_night_power_rankings.html

The Duke and the King on NPR "All Things Considered"

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Link

GUY RAZ, host:

If Simon Felice ever finds himself in hell, he'll manage to somehow make it sound pretty good.

(Soundbite of song, "The Morning I Get to Hell")

Mr. SIMON FELICE (Member, The Duke and the King): (Singing) The morning that I get to Hell, the devil take me up in his Ferris wheel, show me all the scenes of love. Tapping, tick, tack, tap on his black high heels.

RAZ: This song is off the debut album by three musicians who call themselves The Duke and the King. Simon Felice, Robert Burke and Noel Haskins are the three musicians. They got together last winter to record the album in the Catskill Mountains of New York.

Britain's Daily Telegraph called Simon Felice, the greatest singer/songwriter you've never heard. Well, we hope until now.

Simon Felice and Robert Burke join me from our New York bureau. Welcome to the show.

Mr. ROBERT BURKE (Member, The Duke and the King): Good day, Guy.

Mr. FELICE: Hey.

RAZ: This song we're hearing, "The Morning I Get to Hell," it's about an arrival to hell and it' strangely uplifting, it's almost like you're greeting the sunrise.

Mr. BURKE: We figured when you get to hell, there's definitely going to be a drum machine playing there.

(Soundbite of laughter)

So, you know, I grew up reading Dante. It was one of the first things I'd ever read that sort of really took my breath away. And I figured, you know, this is just another way to look at it. Maybe there's Ferris wheel there, maybe there's a television screen playing your whole life back to you. So it's just another kind of circle, a hell is the new kind.

RAZ: Simon Felice, you performed for the last several years with your brothers. Your band is known as the Felice Brothers. You had achieved some critical acclaim. You were getting some attention. Why did you decide to put that on hold?

Mr. FELICE: Well, we were at a point where I was just recording some new songs in the winter time with Robert. And at that time, my longtime love and I, we lost our baby in a late-term miscarriage. And…

RAZ: I'm sorry.

Mr. FELICE: Thank you, Guy. But, you know, it turned my life upside down.

RAZ: Hmm.

Mr. FELICE: And I needed to be closer to home, and the boys all went out on a tour and I had to stay home to take care of her. And in that time, I wrote a bunch of new songs sort of inspired by that. Robert and I were recording and making the record. And we spent about four months up in the woods and kind of snowed in, and a lot of sadness and a lot of joy happening. And we really hoped that it all comes through on the tape. We want it to be a hopeful record.

(Soundbite of song, "Still Remember Love)

Mr. BURKE: (Singing) Seven times in my life I'm looking back. Just like a mirror, you know, smoky, kind of light. You and me running wild in the fields of snow to a different drum in the winter sun, chasing crows. Still remember, still remember love.

RAZ: Simon Felice and Robert Burke, this song "Still Remember Love," can you tell me about it?

Mr. FELICE: Well, that's Robert singing lead on that one. And him and I wrote that song together, all the lyrics. It was a special day. I came into the studio. We were supposed to record another song we were thinking of. And he was sitting on the coach with this melody, singing. And I've known him long enough that when he's got a certain kind of look in his eye…

(Soundbite of laughter)

…that's it's time to work on that song.

(Soundbite of laughter)

So, you know, I said, man, you just keep strumming that, get the mic set up, and I took a walk and I wrote all the verses. And he had written the chorus, still remember love, just thinking about, you know, love lost and, you know, all the trials of what it means to sort of fall in love and fall out of love. And I think we all know about that one.

Mr. BURKE: (Singing) Still remember love. Uh-huh.

RAZ: Simon, can you tell me about the name, The Duke and the King? I'm sure a lot of our listeners will recognize these as characters from "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn." Why did you choose the name for this band?

Mr. FELICE: You know, growing up, literature and books were really important to us, me and my brothers. And I got "Huckleberry Finn" when I was kid and I probably read it 10, 13 times since then.

You know, the thing about the book that really changed my life growing up was I was in a really racist town. And there was race riots against the black kids in the school. You know, in "Huckleberry Finn," it's just a story about a poor, little white kid in the South, instead of turning in this runaway slave, he becomes his best friend, you know?

And that resonated with me in a really powerful way. And then they meet the duke and the king and, you know, they have all these crazy adventures. And I figured it was an homage to that great gift I got as a child from learning that lesson.

RAZ: The duke and the king are charlatans. I mean, they're these grifters who are pretending to be European royalty.

(Soundbite of laughter)

Mr. BURKE: I'm the rightful Duke of Bridgewater.

(Soundbite of laughter)

RAZ: But I mean, this album is so authentic that it's almost sort of an irony that you've taken that name for your band.

Mr. FELICE: Well, I remember that other story I read when I was a kid called "The Scarlet Letter." I thought about it in that way, you know, when you're - if you wear that name on your chest then it'll help not to make those bad mistakes, you know, kind of like that.

RAZ: We're talking with Simon Felice and Robert Burke. The musicians perform as the Duke and the King.

I want to ask you about the last track on this album. It's called "One More American Song," and it's one of the saddest songs I've heard in a while. Can you tell me a little bit about it?

Mr. FELICE: When I was a kid, I wanted to be a Marine. My grandpa was in the Marines. And I had a friend who did go into the Marines, and he fought in Iraq and he came back really hurt. And he was over there doing what he thought was right. And I wrote this about him, and thinking back to the time when we were all kids and sort of listening to the boom box and first realizing that sort of music was our religion. And I just hope and pray that our country some day figures out a way to not have to send our boys over there.

RAZ: You brought a guitar with you into the studio, into our New York studio. And together, you will take us out with the last track from your album, "One More American Song."

Simon Felice, Robert Burke, thank you so much.

Mr. FELICE: Thank you so much, Guy.

Mr. BURKE: Thank you, Guy.

RAZ: They perform as The Duke and the King. Their first CD is called "Nothing Gold Can Stay."

(Soundbite of song, "One More American Song")

Mr. FELICE: (Singing) If I had a cinder block for every lie I told, I could have built us a house fine as any city block to keep us out of the cold. Because the winter is long and it's longer in a dead-end town with a gas tank rusting down the street. And cherry tree and every boom box playing loud, and we'd sing along. We'd sing until dawn. It's just one more American song. John was a quiet boy in school. Johnny with the fiery, red hair…