Features - Bill Kopp interviews and/or writes features on rock and roll artists both new and not-so-new.

Connecting With the Dots in Chapel Hill

Cutting a swath through the USA's eastern seaboard -- mostly by way of tiny clubs -- the Legendary Pink Dots appeared in the dark, humid confines of Chapel Hill's Local 506 this night to a near-capacity crowd. And while in this case capacity means only about 120 people, LPD went to extraordinary lengths to reach out to every single one.

LPD performed a roughly ninety-minute set that featured several tracks from their latest, Your Children Placate You from Premature Graves. While the most consistent thing about the Dots' music is that it changes wildly from album to album, this latest disc is among the group's most accessible efforts. In this live setting, the songs took on a more organic, immediate feel. The Legendary Pink Dots' music this time around is an alluring combination of melody and electronics, of song and experimentation.

Photo © Willa Stein Photography

With the sonic underpinnings of keyboard player Phil Knight (a.k.a. the silverman), consisting of multilayered, multi-textured loops, drones and gurgling synth melodies, a trancey vibe was established. With no drummer, responsibility for beats fell to the silverman, though often as not the cumulative effect of all the players provided a suitable and effective beat without the need for actual (or ersatz) percussion.

Martijn de Kleer alternated throughout the evening on electric and acoustic guitars as well as bass. His fretwork was a fascinating mix of rhythmic playing and fills; de Kleer's approach was not so much to solo as to expand on the group's overall sonic attack. Vocalist Edward Ka-Spell was resplendent in a cassock and scarf, rendering him visually evocative of some cross between John Lydon and Richard Butler of The Psychedelic Furs. Ka-Spell's vocals ran the range from near-whispers to hypnotic chants and back again, often in a single song. The musical emphasis was on playing songs rather than exploratory jamming, though the arrangements had enough air to allow plenty of showcase solo spots.

Most of those solos went to the engaging Niels van Hoornblower. He worked as hard at establishing connections with the crowd as he did on playing his variety of instruments (including two saxes, flute and a wind-controlled oscillator/synthesizer). With his shaven head, square-frame glasses and harlequin suit, he looked every bit the part of a court jester. And van Hoornblower went out of his way to make eye contact with every member of the audience within visual range, one at a time. Making use of a wireless connection, he strolled out into the crowd -- which parted as if welcoming a prophet -- and kept right on playing. On several occasions he leaned his instrument within inches of a (usually female) fan's face as his lyrical notes poured out of the sax. Niels' playing -- ace to begin with -- only seemed to improve from the effect of the positive vibes sent back his way from the audience. The rest of the group went about the business of playing, not seeming to much mind -- or notice – van Hoornblower's interplay with the crowd.

The sound mix (provided by the group's own traveling sound man) was clear and well balanced, and of a suitable volume for such a small club. In fact the Legendary Pink Dots were perhaps a (welcome) third quieter than openers Veronique Diabolique, a goth/noise quartet with an amusingly fabricated backstory.

Lyrically, the LPD material was as dark as ever, occasionally reminding this listener of nothing so much as Final Cut-era Pink Floyd. In a somewhat perverse (yet not unwelcome) turn of events, the chant on "No Matter What You Do," with its terrified paean to an ominous god became a crowd sing-along number.

During the encore, as if to underscore the intimate communion the audience shared with the band, van Hoornblower unhooked his saxophone's mic and played acoustically to the hushed, stunned crowd. And after the show, all four members of the Legendary Pink Dots mingled with the crowd, back-slapping, hand shaking and conversing animatedly.

The group's love of playing for its own sake (and for the connection with sympathetic listeners) was palpable that sultry night. For a band touring in celebration of its 25th anniversary as a performing unit, one might hope for a grander reception than this, for more commercial success, for something greater than mere underground admiration. But if the band held any of those concerns, they kept it to themselves. To a man they performed and carried themselves as if there was nowhere in the world they would have rather been than Chapel Hill's Local 506.

Stacie Rose Says “Consider Me.” It's Worthwhile Advice.   © Bill Kopp

In an age where music is so often product, where market research dictates the "artistic" direction in which an artist must go, when performers are surrounded by sycophants who help them believe they can do no wrong, it's refreshing almost beyond description to be presented with such a question. Stacie Rose's second CD, the self-released Shadow & Splendor makes little pretense to be something it is not. Stylistically Rose is somewhat all over the map: a bit of C&W influence here, a nod to current pop styles, some acoustic folk-rock there.

Yet throughout, her vision is unerring: musically the album goes everywhere Stacie Rose wants it to, and nowhere she doesn't. As both artist and producer, she has made decisions that she felt benefited the overall project. For example, while she's a fine guitarist, she ceded duties to her bandmates for the album, allowing her to concentrate on vocals and the bigger picture.

The album opener, “Consider Me,” is the most commercially viable of the fourteen tunes, and that's saying something. Rose allows the chorus lyrics to skitter over the melody in a hypnotic, alluring melisma. And the sole cover (a reinvention of U2's “New Year's Day”) can make one forget the original for the moment. “Okay” kicks off perilously close to teen pop, but then the curtain opens to reveal a catchy, fully formed rock/pop song that ranks among the album's many highlights.

Yes, Stacie, I do like the album. And thank you for asking.

Joe Satriani: Pushing the Limits of the Human Experience   © Bill Kopp

In a live setting, Super Colossal's "Made of Tears" is extended into a ten-minute-plus workout that evokes the best work of another virtuoso, Frank Zappa. "I remember seeing Frank a few times, and always really enjoying when the music got simple. He would improvise on top of it. Those were my favorite Frank Zappa moments,” Joe admits. “I was never very much impressed with 'intense' arrangements, because they're rather intellectual: you get a piece of paper out, you put a bunch of dots on it, and you hire someone and say, 'play that!'” Satriani explains with a chuckle.

Satriani gets philosophical for a moment. “It's the personal performance -- right on the edge -- that is what we as human beings truly seek out. We wanna see somebody, whether they're playing guitar, playing a trumpet, holding a tennis racquet, or on a snowboard…we want to see somebody take themselves to the limit of their own human experience. I don't know why we're like that -- maybe we live vicariously.”

On the new album Joe offers a way for fans and performers to share in that human experience. "One of the things we used to always mention to each other backstage was how certain audiences were really good about listening, and yelling back right in pitch, while others would just sort of scream and yell. I started thinking about [Gary Glitter's] 'Rock & Roll Part 2,' and Queen's 'We Will Rock You,' and thought, 'maybe there's a space for my own version of that.'”

That led to the new disc's closing track, “Crowd Chant.” Joe says, “I started playing a variation of this classical piece that I've loved for many years [Gabriel Faure's 'Pavane']. So we invited about 35 friends over to the studio…” Satriani primed them for their performance, and gave them their motivation. “We had some pizza and beer, and then we went into the studio and I said, 'What you guys are is an unruly crowd!' We recorded ten passes, so we ended up with 350 vocal parts. There were about seven to ten musicians in the 'audience,' and they were really good about hitting the notes. We had some kids, and people who are friends, and they just whistled or yelled. It was fun. And now it's become this great, end-of-show encore.”

Satriani draws obvious satisfaction from the live experience. “We played in India last May, and the entire audience of a cricket field -- midnight, 114°F, there's 15,000 people – they were all singing the melody to 'Always With Me, Always With You' like they grew up singing it. It was truly amazing.”

Inspired in his youth by the playing of Jimi Hendrix, Satriani remains a fan of many rock heroes. He's performed live with Mick Jagger, Deep Purple, Steve Vai, Robert Fripp, Eric Johnson, Brian May, Billy Gibbons and a host of others. But he'd jump at the chance to add to that list. "I'd love to share the stage with Jimmy Page, Eric Clapton, Alan Holdsworth, John McLaughlin. They're all a strong impact on my playing; they're a part of my playing, really. I absorb so much of their technique and style and try to make it my own in an original way.” So who's at the very top of that list? “My manager and I operate the G3 concert series, and every year we ask Jeff Beck if he'd like to participate; we'd part the waters for him, y'know?"

The Flaming Lips: The Sound of Success    © Bill Kopp

The Lips' music is emotionally manipulative, similar to the way that a great film plies the viewer's emotions. Drozd allows that this is “absolutely intentional. From my own creative standpoint, the things that I like to communicate musically are purely emotional.” He describes the creation process: “here is this melody, here are these chords, which inherently give the listener something. I'll tinker; I'll actually change each individual note -- I'll work on it for days trying to concoct the most powerful melody I can. We are always, actively, trying to do that.”

Drozd contends that the success of their 1999 release, The Soft Bulletin, did not add pressure for the group to produce more of the same. “There's no pressure from Warner Brothers; they let us do what we want. Any pressure comes from within us.” Their followup, 2002's Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots marked continued musical exploration, with increased use of loops and samples. Still, says Drozd, “the new record is more three-dimensional than Yoshimi. I think it's got more depth to it in a lot of ways.”

Steven muses on the challenge of continually coming up with something new and compelling: “Even Stravinsky probably had these things that he sort of did again and again! I love the major-seventh chord. I can sit there and play that all day long,” he laughs. “On this record, initially it didn't seem like we were doing new things...and then Wayne came up with the riff for 'The W.A.N.D.' And then we realized, 'wow! This is like guitar rock,' which we hadn't done in a few records. And that seemed like a fresh approach.”

Onstage, the circus that is a Flaming Lips show features lucky audience members dressed up as space aliens and Santa Clauses. “When we're touring,” Steven explains, “all our energy and focus is spent on making our live show as bombastic and bad-ass a spectacle as possible. And it's purely entertainment.”

The current flurry of activity surrounding the band – the new album, the tour, Jim DeRogatis' book, Bradley Beesley's documentary – is only a taste of things to come. “We'd like to -- and I'm not saying we're gonna do this -- we'd like to record with a real orchestra and choir. But that would take a lot of time, energy and concentration. Between this tour, and trying to finish up editing on our movie Christmas on Mars, that's plenty for us right now.” Meanwhile, asked what sort of music fans can expect on the soundtrack album, Steven Drozd promises “instrumental, symphonic, sci-fi, electronic, quasi-hymnal religious spy music.”

American Minor: Winning Over New Fans, 942 at a Time    © Bill Kopp

The American Minor sound echoes the best of The Faces, Humble Pie, even Thin Lizzy. "The music of the late '60s and '70s still sounds fresh to us,” explains McCutcheon. “We're interested in continuing on in that tradition, [which] sounds more timeless than a lot of what's going on now.”

Their self-titled debut album reprises two songs from their 2004 Buffalo Creek EP, but in new versions that move them even further into rock territory. Rob explains the shift: "In 'early' American Minor we had another guitarist. We were 'alt-country,' a little like Whiskeytown." The American Minor long-player is a more fully realized effort. "We were a lot more picky about what went on the album. The EP was more of a quick recording."

The quintet has a few things to say while cranking out power chords and riffs. "Buffalo Creek" is a vignette set against the backdrop of one of the deadliest floods in US history, a 1972 dam collapse blamed on negligent strip mining. Over 100 people died, and four thousand-plus Americans were suddenly homeless. But listeners can (if they wish) ignore the story, play air guitar and sing along with the chorus of "hey yeah, don't you know, we ain't got no place to go."

More topical subject matter: "One Last Supper" seems at first to be a straightforward anti-death penalty song. But after the line "they call it retribution, but nobody wins" it dawns that they're taking on something more. "During George W. Bush's term [as governor], Texas executed more inmates than the rest of the US did in the 1970s and '80s combined,” cites McCutcheon, referring to a 60 Minutes news piece. “And then...the Iraq war. 'One Last Supper' is about Bush's disregard for human life. Supposedly pro-life and Christian, he's [too willing] to pull the trigger." Heavier stuff than is often found on heavy-rock albums. But again, like most of the tracks on American Minor, it works with or without the lyrics, driven by McCutcheon's vocal delivery (think pre-lameness Rod Stewart).

Although as Rob puts it, “our songs are more 'jammy' and improvised live,” there's a strong focus on songwriting in the band. And others have begun to take notice. “One of the songs we wrote back in the day ['Something You Ain't Got”] was just recorded and released by Cracker on their Greatest Hits Redux album. It's great for exposure.”

The album closer, “Sleepwalking” kicks off with a languid, molten guitar lead that sounds like some long-lost Neil Young / Crazy Horse track. The album even contains an inadvertent nod to the godfather of grunge. "I didn't intentionally write a song that shared a title with a Neil Young song ['Walk On']. But I was listening to Young's On The Beach a lot." McCutcheon speculates, "I guess it crept into my subconscious." American Minor's new album does that too.

Between writing and recording ("we've written twenty to thirty songs for the followup"), they're driving from gig to gig in a van. The night I saw them, we had planned to head out after the Truckers' set for a few beers, but by 2am the guys in American Minor were ready to turn in; "we played last night in State College, PA. Tomorrow, Nashville." So much for the glamour of the road. "We're trying to build a fan base, and do it right. Just because we got picked up by a major label doesn't mean we're home free. It happened fast for us, but we're still working. There's a lot of work to do yet."

The Veronicas: We Could Get Used to This    © Bill Kopp

Yes, some songwriting credits on The Secret Life of the Veronicas will seem familiar to readers of Backstreet Boys album liner notes. But Jess and Lisa first established their credibility as songwriters. "We wrote two singles used on the Australian Idol TV show. We actually got a publishing deal before a recording deal," explains Lisa. “From that we got an advance, and used the money to travel" and collaborate on songwriting with other artists. Jess and/or Lisa wrote/cowrote nine of the album's twelve tracks.

Yes, they're freshly scrubbed and adorable, a marketer's dream. But there's sly wit behind the packaging. When asked about "Secret," a melodramatic track with the line, "I never looked at you that way / 'cause I always thought you were gay," they laughed. Then Jess replied, "I read an article in a magazine about how guys pretend to be gay to get girls, saying 'you've switched me, and now I'm in love with you' or some crap. It was so funny; it got us thinking, so we wrote a song."

Yes, the group's debut album is polished to a sheen -- slickly produced, arranged and sequenced. And the group is named after a cartoon character. But they're no cartoon group. Onstage, a precise, high octane instrumental trio backs up the twins, with no synthesizers, few sequencers, and no miming. Lisa says, "we grew up doing musical theater from age five. For us, the fun part is being onstage and doing it live. It's only fun when you get to be a part of it all." Jess plays guitar on a few numbers, and recently bought “an Angus Young signature Gibson SG.”

Yes, they're huge in Australia, where the album is double-platinum. Jess and Lisa were nominated for three honors at the Australian MTV Awards (results not available at press time). Yet on a March weeknight in Charlotte NC, they played to about a hundred people. Add to that a lousy house mix (Lisa could barely hear herself) and head colds (Jess called the tour bus “one big bunch of germs”) and one might have a recipe for a desultory, by-the-numbers show. But nothing kept the group from delivering the goods. Even on what could have been an off night, The Veronicas showed they knew how to work a crowd.

As the tour wound its way through the USA, tour manager Lew Kiner helpfully added a note onto their neatly-typed set list each night: “You are in Hartford CT” and so on. I asked the girls if they had any idea where they were at the moment. They did. They have a clear sense of where they're going, too.

Lake Trout - Weird, Catchy and Everything in Between    © Bill Kopp

The group has been pegged by many as a jam band; so onstage would their concise arrangements be drowned in a pearly sea of jamwankery? Guitarist Ed Harris gives an emphatic no: "The jam band scene certainly isn't something we intended to be a part of, but at one point we sort of got lumped in with that. I don't see the connection musically with groups in the jam band scene. It's been kind of a challenge in a way, but it's also cool to be able to go back and forth between different kinds of audiences. I do feel that we have this weird way of appealing to a lot of different people."

In a live setting the band is tight, powerful; their playing and arrangements are complex while never once veering off into humorless prog territory. Lake Trout's music lays down a repetitive underpinning, but rock convention is stood on its head: as often as not it's the guitars -- not the rhythm section -- that lay down the, dare I say, groove. The rapid-attack percussion is often the "melodic" element. The nimble, commanding drumming and full, analog-feeling keyboards map out the musical territory, then the bass and guitars explore it.

On record Lake Trout seem at once icy and distant, yet visceral and emotional. Onstage, even though the arrangements are close to the recorded versions, the sound is heavy and complex yet airy and fragile. From where do they draw inspiration? The group's myspace.com page name-checks more than fifty groups as influences. "I did that for the search engines!" confides Harris. "Honestly, I don't like to really nail down our influences. In the van we might listen to Kool Keith, Pinback, Led Zeppelin, DJ Shadow. We don't break music up by genres, and a lot of it influences us."

On Not Them, You, the group tackle a classic Rolling Stones tune, a maneuver that in lesser hands could be disastrous. "We'd always thought about recording 'Street Fighting Man,' and it definitely seemed appropriate for the times." Plus it was an opportunity to do a project with ace producer Dave Fridmann (Flaming Lips, Mercury Rev), a natural choice for this indie-rock band.

Lake Trout manages to walk the fine line between musical exploration and accessibility, but it's not something the band actually works at. "I don't think there's ever been an effort to be more accessible or less accessible," explains Ed Harris. "We've always been weird, catchy and everything between."

Thrice: Forever Changes    © Bill Kopp

This situation isn't the norm, perhaps, but it does describe a vocal minority. In 2005, on the eve of their newest CD release, Orange County-based Thrice is facing a mini-revolt from some fans who, it would seem, think the group's music should repeat itself ad infintum. Which is surprising, since Thrice has always been a band on the move.

For a band that's so articulate, both lyrically and instrumentally, they deal with a lot of misconceptions. In some quarters Thrice's stance has been described as "political." While it's true that they donate a portion of each album's proceeds, the chosen beneficiaries tend to be uncontroversial. And while the group's lyrics explore both the personal and the universal, they're not really political in nature. Lyricist Dustin Kensrue contends that his songs "deal with things that are happening with us and around the world, but not necessarily from a political point of view." Political lyrics, can be, he says, "narrow and divisive, and I really don't want to deal with that in my music. Music is something that can speak to a lot of different people in a lot of different ways."

So what of the fans who wanted Vheissu, their latest release on Island, to recycle the music of their past albums? "I've been writing a lot of slower 'epics,'" says Dustin. And he sees the band's development as a logical progression: "I think that 'Image of the Invisible' (the first single from Vheissu) is the biggest link between our past and the new record. It's going in new directions, but the rest of Vheissu is even more different." Kensrue asserts that the album represents "a very large shift."

Indeed, Thrice's approach -- organic, adapting – may empower the group to weather changes in musical fashion: "it's a lot more likely we'll survive, being in a band where we're challenged and challenging each other." Kensrue is unequivocal on this score. "It would be the most awkward, terrible job experience" to repeat themselves musically. "It would be worse than sitting around writing advertising jingles."

Thrice has shown a willingness to stretch out more than some of their contemporaries. That musical exploration is key to the band's artistic expression: Dustin says there are a "million" sonic areas they'd like to explore, to get their musical point across. The new record makes use of Rhodes piano, synths, organ. "Different instruments hold a different tone and emotional quality; they allow us to move ahead and branch out." He sees the new album as a "gateway to go even further with different sounds and different approaches" in the future.

Some groups take the approach of writing a ton of new songs, then throwing them against the wall (so to speak) to see which ones stick. Not Thrice. "I'm not a really prolific writer," explains Dustin. "I get really focused on the songs I do write. I'm very particular about meter, rhyme schemes, alliteration." He strives to make the words "beautiful, even if you read them without the music." He describes the new album's lyrics as "positive. Even though it's pretty 'dark' at points, there's definitely a theme of hope that runs through it." Vheissu's cover art – a sort of Blue Öyster Cult meets Dr. Phil – reinforces this dialectic. "To be honest," offers Dustin, hope "is not really present in a lot of modern music." Even the song titles bear out the optimism: "Hold Fast Hope," "Stand and Feel Your Worth."

As a group, Thrice is more in their element onstage than in the studio. Studio sessions are in some sense an attempt to get their live show down on tape. To that end, much of Vheissu was recorded "live" in studio, the band playing the songs together rather than layering instruments one by one. It's all part of keeping the organic feel to the music. Still, the recording of Vheissu was an exacting process. "We worked on this record for a year straight."

But when it's all said and done, for Dustin Kensrue, the best part is that fan response. "The most gratifying thing is people 'giving back' by really engaging in the music. There's a bond when someone creates a piece of music and someone else can really appreciate it. And usually it's from a different place than what the artist intended; a different perspective on the same thing. It's a huge and wonderful mystery, and it's very humbling."

Kensrue has a message, perhaps directed toward those who resist change. "I would encourage people -- who may have written us off as whatever kind of band – to check out the new record. A lot of different kinds of people can appreciate what's there. We're huge fans of many different kinds of music; I feel the synthesis of those influences on Vheissu are unique, without actually sounding like any of them." With a commitment of one more album for Island, plus that label's option for two more, expect more of the same – that is, change, growth, development – from Thrice.

Under the Microscope With Fall Out Boy    © Bill Kopp

Fall Out Boy's music is hooky, exuberant, emo-pop wrapped up in a punky package; by turns snarky and angst-ridden. Yet "we consider ourselves a pop band. In contrast to songwriters like Bob Dylan, who can come on and improvise -- and that's part of the art -- in a live setting we try to stick to the song structure. Yet if the crowd goes in a direction, we kind of follow. The crowd is that variable, that wildcard. You get up there and these explosions are happening."

Wentz reflects on the tension between live and studio. "The studio and the stage, they're two completely separate ideas. Even if you tape a live show, it doesn't really capture it. The actual electricity that you feel in the air when the crowd is screaming and clapping along...you just can't recreate that. In the studio, “on one hand, we want this grittiness, this feel of the crowd...but in the world of ProTools and technology and the internet, the record has to sound good too, you know?"

On From Under the Cork Tree, "we wanted a huge-sounding record. We're the kind of band, you know, had we come out in the 80s, we would have been one of the 'hair bands.'” He cites the Axl Rose-stepping-off-the-bus scene in the “Welcome to the Jungle” video as the “colossal” sort of feel they were aiming for.

“In the last four years, we saw the world. We played shows in Tokyo, in Manchester England. It's been crazy for us. We felt the energy of that, and allowed ourselves to have a wider perspective. And at the same time, when we wrote our last record, we thought nobody was listening. We were pretty sure. And then all of a sudden there's a magnifying glass out. Everybody's looking, and everything's being scrutinized. We knew that going in. I think that influences how you write a record."

With the whirlwind touring, time still has to be found to communicate with the fans. "One of our main ways of interaction with people is through the internet. For example, some kid in Oklahoma can't necessarily see us, but he can download our music from www.falloutboyrock.com and then email us. As you get to a bigger level as a band, you need to try and maintain those connections that you have. We're not the kind of band that goes out and parties, so I take an hour a day...maybe two...and that's nothing compared to the kid who really wants to be in touch with us. Definitely, it's worth my time."

In interviews, Fall Out Boy has distanced itself from 2002's indie release Evening Out With Your Girlfriend. Yet on the coattails of the group's current success, that disc was recently re-released. Wentz chuckles nervously, cautiously, at the subject being raised. "For awhile there were legal reasons where we were not allowed to speak about it. And since then we've come to a better understanding, a better business deal. Because we're a band that does things on our own terms, we're not going to get bamboozled into doing anything that we don't really want to do. People can read into that whatever they want."

Pete offers young bands some advice: "be careful, and don't just sign the first thing that comes on your plate because you're hungry. More than anything, that's why we try and take newer and younger bands under our wing, after our experiences." This could be mildly amusing, coming from a mere 23-year old, but Pete Wentz knows what he's talking about; he means what he says, what he writes.

From Under the Cork Tree opens with the sound of a barrage of popping flashcubes. "Our last record opened with a phone dial tone; the premise of all the lyrics on that record was 'I'm 3000 miles away from this person I'm talking to, and when they hang up the phone, there's nothing left. My only recourse is to write these songs.'" So on the new record, "It's actually a throwback to Duran Duran's 'Girls on Film'. It's our homage to that, but at the same time, the record opens with this song that makes tongue-in-cheek reference to where we're at, the cusp of fame we're on:

We're only liars, but we're the best /
We're only good for the latest trend /
We're only good so you can have almost famous friends.*

“That's what that is: that's the red carpet right there; that's the flashing; that's being under the magnifying glass and realizing we're under the magnifying glass. And it's kind of our own laugh; it's kind of like 'if they could only see us now.'"