Music

JEFF GERMAN AT NATALIES. On Saturday, April 15, I went to Natalie’s Pizza for Jeff German’s half-CD release party. Jeff is due to release his second record on Slothtrop Records later this year, and his label was releasing an early five-song “maxi-single.”
  I had a chance to listen to the single itself, a song called “Woodshed,” and a few of its supporting pieces on the drive up. Woodshed conjures a time warp between present and past, a place that has still has eight tracks, black and white TVs, and affordable vintage guitars. It might be 2015, it might be 1972, which fits right in with German’s history of writing to a mythic past, where long roads still lead to nowhere and strangers still ride into town and take an inconspicuous seat at the back of the bar.

Surly Girl Saloon announced rather abruptly that this would be their last week in operation. I stumbled in Wednesday Night not fully aware of the importance the Short North Bar’s Open Mic Night had to local comedy for the past 9 years.
  There were 60 comics signed up to pay their last respects.
  The comedy night will be moving next door to Barrel on High. But still, bars have different cultures that surround them. Chemistries and friendships between workers, patrons and owners all play into people’s personal histories and experiences with places they hang out.
  Surly Girls' closing comes on the heels of the Milk Bar shutting down in the Short North.

Here's my open letter to Campus Partners, OSU's development arm which recently bought nine acres of High Street, from 14th to 17th, promising to raze and re-do the entire area real pretty-like.
  Ahem, dear sir(s) and/or madame(s),
  It's recently come to my attention that my way of making a living, indeed my gay (1890's sense) lively, lifestyle of music and commerce is soon to go the way of the buffalo, the Indian, the Edsel and Don Kirshner Presents Rock Concert. Is there any way you can build around me?
  You don't seem to understand the cultural impact of your actions. The kids crave authenticity. Suburbia, for all its delivery of paradise and safety, simply does not belong on High Street. High Street is supposed to be a little bit wild, a little bit dangerous and a whole lotta untamed. Lemme tell you a little story.

Atmosphere played Columbus April 29. Their performances always seem warm and familiar because of Slug’s everyman approach, and his label’s Rhymesayer’s releasing music by Blueprint and Soul Position.

Heck, they had Blueprint put together a video that starred Yellow Brick Pizza’s proprietor Bobby Silver as Teen Wolf for “We Aren’t Going To Die Today.” off their latest album “Southsiders.”

I could tell you everything I think I know however:

I’m actually using this to set-up the following:

I walked in as opening act B. Dolan was having the crowd scream “Film the Police.”

This relevant:

1)   The resistance effort in Baltimore and the current petition drive from a Civilian Review board in our own city.

2)   The Columbus-Minneapolis shared ARA history which was a big proponent of Cop-watch which advocated Filming the Police.

Dolan is not from the Twin Cities. He is from Rhode Island and glaringly a member of Sage Francis’ Strange Famous label.

But this is all connected so nothing about 2015 at the LC was different than shows of underground hip hop past within this culture.

Over the last few weeks I’ve been working on a Calypso album. I don’t have any sort of a reasonable explanation for it, and the demos so far are not very promising. It’s probably a waste of time, although it has provided a break from my regularly scheduled activity of composing mediocre piano ballads. But I’ve done the homework, including watching insufferable drum instructors (is there any other kind?) demonstrate the Calypso beat online, so I think I ought to have something to show for it.
  Nobody’s singing in an accent, super-promise, but this is more to minimize annoyance than avoid accusations of culture theft. Hey, why is it that everybody gives Sting a hard time for faking a Jamaican accent while the Beatles get a pass for faking an American one?

Record Store Day can be viewed many different ways. It can be seen as a method to celebrate and create revenue for places that operate as community hubs. The cynical can mock it as a vehicle for for the music industry to hock limited edition items from a bulk of bands that no one really needs including record stores. Or one could say: every day is record store day.
  Well, since record store day is Saturday(April 18) and this paper is released on Thursday, I went to a few record stores and asked them to show me music from the general vicinity with the intention of reviewing said releases.
  These are not record store day releases.
  The first stop was Magnolia Thunderpussy located at 1155 N. High Street near 5th in the Short North. I ran into Charlotte Kubat whose family owns the store. I used to work at Magnolia so I know Charlotte decently. We made small talk, and then she showed me the “local” section.

Can style be substance? Can synth-pop have a baby in Ohio and let it claim the top of the pops? Is Jack White The Last Man Left In Rock? What the hell am I talking about?
  Let me digress and egress, my little egret, before I progress. It's my job.

Great Jazz Albums
This spring herald's the 50th Anniversary of arguably the greatest Jazz album ever released. I don’t write these words lightly. There are many contenders.
  “Kinda Blue” by Miles Davis (Columbia Records, 1959) hits every short list. Certified as quadruple platinum, it is the best selling Jazz album of all time. “Giant Steps” (Atlantic, 1960) is another challenger. Blistering arpeggios, known as “Sheets of Sound,” rise and fall faster then hummingbirds wings. The title track from “Giant Steps” is the quintessential study piece for Jazz improvisation. Modern enthusiasts claim that the newly discovered “John Coltrane & Thelonious Monk At Carnegie Hall” is equally worthy of consideration. In 1957 a Thanksgiving Jazz benefit was held for the Morningside Community Center in Harlem. Performers included Ray Charles, Billie Holiday, Dizzy Gillespie, John Coltrane and Thelonious Monk. This live recording lay hidden in the Library of Congress till being discovered, restored and finally released by Blue Note Records in 2005.

Matt Monta has been playing music in Columbus for a long time -- he used to play at the old High Street BW3 if your memory goes that far back. For the last several years he’s been playing with Righteous Buck and the Skull Scorchers and fronting The Smoking Guns, and as a result I’ve had a tendency to lump him in with the outlaw country scene that puts on the Johnny Cash tribute every year. Those guys play great music, but it’s not exactly a fountain of introspection and self-doubt.

Jazz is dead. No, it's just got gangrene. Jazz has arthritis and hemorrhoids. No, it's alive and well, quite regular and livin' it up in Toledo. No, it is the epitome of stuck. Yes, it needs a young blood transfusion. No, it needs a facelift, it needs to get ugly again or pretty or danceable. Blah blah bleeeeeach!