Folk Music – Zachary Mule

A COMPLETE UNKNOWN

(SEARCHLIGHT PICTURES/WALT DISNEY STUDIOS/TSG ENTERTAINMENT/VERITAS ENTERTAINMENT/WHITE WATER/RANGE MEDIA PARTNERS/THE PICTURE COMPANY/TURNPIKE FILMS(141 minutes; Rated R); 2024)

Biopics are always fraught with possible problems, among them an army of fans and pundits waiting to pounce on every historical inaccuracy and to analyze the actors playing the key figures, judging whether or not they did an authentic enough job portraying those figures… an especially opinionated exercise when it comes to MUSICAL biopics. Sometimes there is general agreement that the film did a good job (recent biopics on Ray Charles, Elton John and Queen, for example). And sometimes a film in this category flames out so quickly, hardly anyone even bothers to see it (anyone remember that Bowie film a couple of years ago that couldn’t even get the rights to use most of Bowie’s music?). James Mangold, the director of the superb new Bob Dylan biopic A COMPLETE UNKNOWN, is clearly aware of the burden placed on him to credibly tell the story of a true musical icon… he’s braved these waters before with his Johnny Cash film, WALK THE LINE, which mostly won audiences and critics over, despite some liberties taken here and there with facts. Mangold had his two main stars in that film do their own singing, a challenging task for Joaquin Phoenix, who played the man in black, and Reese Witherspoon, who delivered an Oscar-winning performance as June Carter. But Mangold did an impressive job selecting the parts of that story he wanted audiences to see, and using the enduring collaboration and initially iffy romance between Cash and Carter as his cinematic throughline, an artistic decision that worked quite well.

A COMPLETE UNKNOWN (MONICA BARBARO, TIMOTHEE CHALAMET) (screenshot)

All of this is to say that Mangold had an even loftier task bringing the story of the legendary Bob Dylan to life; Dylan is one of the most important and influential singer/songwriters of all time, and every music fan in the world over a certain age knows SOMETHING about the performer and has impressions (and favorite periods) developed over more than a half century of pop culture evolution. How could you make a worthy film about a musician who meant so much to so many, and still does? Well, two key decisions pointed the way: one was to focus entirely on Dylan’s first five years, when he made the biggest splash as the Greenwich Village “folkie” inconoclast who changed the rules and forced a debate about Folk music versus Rock and Roll to come to the surface, most notably at the infamous Newport Folk Festival. The second decision was to find the right actor to play Mister Zimmerman (Timothee Chalamet, simply superb) and have a good part of the script deal with two key women in Dylan’s first phase: Joan Baez (played here by Monica Barbaro) and Sylvie Russo (a character based on the real-life Suze Rotolo, an artist and activist Dylan was romantically involved with for a while and is pictured with him on the cover of his debut, THE FREEWHEELIN’ BOB DYLAN). Elle Fanning plays that role in the film with charm and often heartbreaking vulnerability. Anyway, A COMPLETE UNKNOWN does an effective job alternating scenes of Dylan singing his powerhouse and emotive songs and building an awestruck following in the process, with scenes showing his interactions with the already established Joan Baez (who inevitably falls for him after seeing his charisma and obvious talent) and the slightly more angsty young artist who shares his bed. It’s hard to just concisely sum up how well this movie delivers on these things. Chalamet is an absolute marvel, able to capture enough of Dylan’s early originality and relentless drive to convince you that you’re really in the presence of this legendary (and often prickly) performer, who simply will NOT reveal all his secrets or willingly be told what to do. I was frankly in AWE much of the time of Chalamet’s singing and successful portrayal of the inscrutable personality quirks that history has shown Dylan to always have had. You get whole songs sometimes and partial performances at other times, but it ALWAYS sounds authentic, with a handful of moments truly standing out musically, among them “Song for Woody” (a tune Dylan wrote for Woody Guthrie, who is seen ailing in a hospital bed early on when the young Bob visits and encounters Woody and fellow folk icon Pete Seeger (Edward Norton), “Girl From the North Country,” “Blowin’ In the Wind,” “The Times They Are A-Changin’,” and at least the first portion of “Highway 61 Revisted,” which is killer and I wish the film HAD given us the full song. I was personally absolutely riveted by every single scene showing Dylan interacting with Joan Baez, as I have some knowledge of that part of the story, and Baez was an early favorite of my late brother. Baez tires of Dylan’s abrasiveness and self-centered manner, flatly stating in one scene, “You’re kind of an asshole, Bob.” It’s absolutely not in the cards for these two very serious musicians to truly gel romantically, but they can’t avoid or ignore each other during this period. When they duet on an absolutely stunning live performance of Dylan’s song “It Ain’t Me Babe” at Newport, the way it is filmed and the subtext of the lyrics results in one of the most singular and memorable musical performances ever put on film. Seriously, I got chills from this scene, and the way Barbaro looks at Chalamet’s Dylan with a combination of respect for his immense talent and knowing sadness that he is ultimately sort of “unreachable,” is cinema magic. I loved Barbaro’s performance, and I loved the script, truthfully. There are so MANY moments that felt right to me as both a musician myself and a longtime observer of pop culture and the ever-changing music industry. You get plenty of scenes dealing with the industry’s attempt to capitalize on Dylan’s talent, by the way, and to reign in his sometimes unruly ways, culminating in the widely known controversy when Dylan “went electric” at the Newport Festival. It’s all engrossing stuff. And I can’t leave out Edward Norton’s solid performance as Pete Seeger… he’s our guide to the role that folk music was playing in the culture in the early ‘60s, an admirer (and mentor at times) of the stunning young talent who quickly starts changing the musical landscape Seeger has been a part of for so long, and the wise veteran who knows how songs can unite people in uncertain times (made clear by scenes showing the nuclear confrontation between the US and Soviet Union and growing civil unrest, something the Sylvie character addresses), but is concerned that Dylan may DIVIDE, rather than unite the audience.

A COMPLETE UNKNOWN (CHARLIE TAHAN, TIMOTHEE CHALAMET, ELI BROWN ) (screenshot)

That actually DID happen for a short time, but it’s quite clear that Dylan was simply ahead of the curve, and was too important and effective a songwriting voice to be held back by ANYONE… whether established peers like Baez and Seeger, his manager Albert Grossman (Dan Fogler) and other industry types invested in him, or an audience sometimes not willing to initially go along with the “new sounds” and aesthetic that Dylan was determined to explore. The film ends with Dylan heading off down the road on his trusty motorcycle, and we all know that the musician was soon to have a serious accident that would lay him up for a significant period and result in significant changes in his music. But I absolutely found myself feeling that A COMPLETE UNKNOWN had made almost all the right decisions: WHEN to begin the story (there is nothing about Dylan’s childhood, for example, something I’ve read a bit of grumbling about), when to end it, and how his music – and personality – significantly affected both those around him and those in his audience. You’re plunked down, as a viewer, into the middle of a vibrant Greenwich Village scene, and you’re given enough of a legendary artist’s music, impact and mysteriously insular nature, to gain fresh insight into how Dylan changed things, as well as to feel like you’ve time traveled a bit. I was consistently riveted by A COMPLETE UNKNOWN, and truly emotionally stirred by most of its scenes. Yes, it’s a terrific musical biopic. But even more, it’s a significant piece of cinema and possibly the best film James Mangold has directed (kudos also to his co-screenwriter Jay Cocks). Offhand, I can’t think of a better and more significant cinematic tale of how a musician came to change the world and remained mysterious and unpredictable throughout. Look for some Oscar nominations and plenty of revived interest in this Dylan fellow… I hear he is still around and doing things that people still argue about to this day.

IN PRAISE OF EPHEMERA’S MONOLOVE, A CLASSIC NORWEGIAN POP GEM ON ITS 20TH ANNIVERSARY

KEVIN RENICK REFLECTS ON MUSICAL PERFECTION

“We live in a cynical world.” That famous line was uttered by Tom Cruise’s titular character in the movie JERRY MAGUIRE, and it pops into my head sometimes. There’s a lot of distrust, unhappiness and social division out there these days, and it’s hard to find your own personal “throughline” in a world that seems to be constantly struggling, with more and more individuals feeling trapped in some way, or just plain alienated.

EPHEMERA (Ingerlise Storksen, Christine Sandtorv, Jannicke Larsen Berglund) (photo credit BENT RENE SYNNEVAG)

“Only chaos/Only empty days/Only thin skin/Only tension/Only make-no-sense,” sings Ingerlise Storksen of the divinely talented Norwegian girl trio Ephemera at the beginning of their fifth album MONOLOVE. The irony behind these seemingly gloomy lyrics, which are just as apt as ever 20 years after the album first came out, is that they are sung in an absolutely GORGEOUS and riveting pop song, “Chaos,” which opens with one of the most deleriously chiming keyboard flurries I’ve ever heard on a modern pop album. Sheer sonic beauty was already a hallmark of Ephemera’s career when MONOLOVE was released in late 2004; members Christine Sandtorv, Ingerlise Storksen and Jannicke (Larsen) Berglund had established themselves as supremely gifted songwriters and rapturous three-part harmony singers through the course of four previous discs, including successful outings like BALLOONS AND CHAMPAGNE in 2001 and AIR in 2003. But their winning formula only locked into place when they teamed up with producer Yngve Leidulv Saetre for an album called SUN in 2000. I will be upfront and say that this “formula” (an inadequate word to convey the lush and organic purity of this music) soon became one of my favorite sounds in the entire musical universe. And by the time I fully absorbed the depth, variety and spine-tingling perfection of the 13 tracks on MONOLOVE (an album that had a tendency to SLAY me on long road trips in my car), it managed to become my favorite album of all time. Yes, it’s THAT good and THAT personally significant to me.

“It was a really fun album to record,” Jannicke told me via email correspondence this summer (I contacted all three women to get their feedback when I was planning this piece). “I loved all the songs that the other two had written at that time and it was very giving and exciting to record them. Harmonies and arrangements came easily and our producer (Yngve) understood really well what kind of sound we wanted to express.”

Of course MANY groups might say such things about the process of making an album they are justifiably proud of, but some kind of transcendent magic had to be taking place in the studio to result in songs like “On the Surface” and “Thank You,” two exquisite Ingerlise Storksen compositions that send shivers up my spine whenever I play them. Ingerlise’s vocal approach on these songs is “blue diamond” stuff in my book… breathy, intimate and heartfelt. Add the delicate string arrangement on “Thank You,” the enthralling three-part “mm mm” harmonies and the haunting lyrics about a person in the singer’s life who helped guide her journey (“You left your footprints in the snow/A guideline for me so I will know/The day I get lost/Which way to go… ”), and you’ve got yourself a positively transcendent art song. The harmony interlude that follows that first chorus is literally one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard on any record. And it affects me the same every single time I hear it. THAT’s magic!

But one of the notable things about MONOLOVE is how all three of the band members contribute peak, spellbinding songs to the mix. Jannicke gives us two of her very finest, “City Lights” and “Paint Your Sky,” stunningly arranged soft rockers that always change my mood for the better the instant either begins. And a secret, underlying component here – something I bring up in a songwriting class I teach – I would characterize as “aesthetic vagueness.” That’s when the listener gets the imagery and overall feel a songwriter is aiming for without knowing all the specific details of what the song is truly about, so you can insert YOURSELF into it. “I can put up a show, so simple and lame/It’s far from the same/But the line is thin/Between failure and success/There’s either more or less/You’re either out or in/The line is thin… ” Plenty to relate to here, especially when Jannicke sings the lyrics in a clear, plaintive voice and is soon joined by her two cohorts on a deceptively simple chorus: “Under the city lights I fail/Under the city lights I’m pale.” I have been positively transfixed by that chorus since the first time I heard it, and I am profoundly MOVED by the sonic blend the group and their genius producer achieve here.

“‘City Lights’ is a song about the very unfair differences in our world,” Jannicke told me. “The background sounds and voices in the intro were recorded in Tokyo or Osaka when we were on tour in Japan. I like how it sets the atmosphere in the song, both quiet and chaotic at the same time. What I mean to express in the song is that no one is better or more worthy than the other. We are all equally small and unimportant in this big universe, or big and important in this small world. The point is that no one should put themselves above others. Be a fellow human being instead, if you have the chance… ”

Jannicke plays evocative keyboards on this and many other Ephemera songs; in video clips of the band’s performances, she’s almost always behind the keys, playing something distinctive and resonant. You’ll also notice, when you hear this album a few times, that just a simple percussion bit here and there or the way the bassline comes in at just the right moment, reveal an ensemble with exquisite taste and a unified sense of purpose. Everything sounds just so clear and right… The trio seem to be brimming with confidence throughout, apparently paying close attention to literally every detail of every song.

EPHEMERA, 2004 (Christine Sandtorv, Ingerlise Storksen, Jannicke Larsen Berglund) (photo credit BENT RENE SYNNEVAG)

“This was a really busy time for Ephemera, with a lot of traveling abroad,” Ingerlise related. “So it was really nice to have a break from it all, and that we got to stay home for a couple of weeks recording MONOLOVE at Duper Studio. We were in a very creative and productive state, I remember – and we did a lot of live recording in the studio. Most of the songs were written on the road and in between, so many of the songs were quite fresh by the time we landed in the studio. This gave it all a new nerve and feel to the sessions. I remember it being like busy, calming and lovely, all at once.”

To read those descriptive words busy, calming and lovely all at once from one of the people who actually MADE this amazing music was enormously helpful to me, as I’ve struggled through the years to explain to the uninitiated why Ephemera are just so darn brilliant. While it’s always a subjective thing to evaluate pop music (or really ANY music) – as a songwriter myself and a guy who has been doing music journalism for nigh on 30 years now, I think I have a reasonably good idea of what constitutes “good” music. But very, very FEW things have transfixed me and soundtracked my very being the way Ephemera’s music has. And I’m certainly not alone.

EPHEMERA (Ingerlise Storksen, Jannicke Larsen Berglund, Christine Sandtorv) (uncredited photo)

“Your music is what reaffirmed my belief in the possibility that people have souls,” posted one enthusiastic fan on the trio’s original web site, from which I extracted as many opinions as I could before it went defunct. He was probably responding to the same sincere vulnerability, compassion and unquestioning LOVE for the human condition that I find so compelling, and that these remarkable women inject into every song. Think of any movie scene that once gripped your emotions or any powerful moment in your life that still fills you with aching nostalgia, and that’s the sort of feeling you’ll find in almost every Ephemera composition. And MONOLOVE has more of those than usual. Christine Sandtorv, commonly the most prolific songwriter in the band, contributes six songs to the record, and they are mostly of a stylish piece, dealing with the uncertainties of relationships, the whole “trust versus love” dilemma and the simple challenge of being a vulnerable human being. Her songs feature delicate, often masterful acoustic guitar picking, tasteful string arrangements and conversational-style lyrics that anchor her songs. Even titles like “Do’s and Dont’s,” “Leave It At That,” and “Put-On-Smile” hint at the reflective approach these songs contain. That latter song contains one of MONOLOVE’s most telling verses: “I’m not in the sky/I’m not on solid ground/I cannot lie/But I know how to pretend/I’m not in the mood/Don’t feel like jumping for joy/Though I should be happier than medium okay.” Medium okay, wow! I know that condition, Christine! The primary musical element here is rather jaunty, with even Christine’s memorable vocal delivery sounding almost upbeat. But a strongly melancholy acoustic guitar arpeggio later in the song and some solemn but beautiful three-part harmony from the band nails down the real mood here for any attentive listeners.

EPHEMERA onstage (Ingerlise Storksen, Christine Sandtorv, Jannicke Larsen Berglund) (photo credit TORE SAETRE)

“I think a lot was on my mind at the time, as it often is when you are on your way to becoming an adult,” Christine told me. “It was probably a rather dark time for me. I was starting to get tired of traveling a lot. I like being close to family the most. You can see it thematically on many of my songs on this album.”

Christine related how the sparse, haunting album closer “Long” was played at the funeral of her father in 2007. “It became too difficult to play it live,” she said. “Even though it wasn’t written directly for him, I felt that a lot of emotions in the song fit.”

The existential sadness and uncertainty expressed in tunes like this helps explain why MONOLOVE steadily ascended to the very top of my list of favorite albums. Every song focuses on something relatable and timeless, something your heart was aching to hear… though perhaps you didn’t know it yet. I’d lost many loved ones myself and was constantly pondering the meaning of it all, something I tended to do a lot on long car trips. And I found that there was no better music to provide the soundtrack for such contemplation than Ephemera’s. And they truly outdid themselves in that regard with MONOLOVE. You get a real sense, song after song, of self-aware fellow human beings creating ultimate musical portraits of what it means to be a tuned-in, caring person in the “cynical world” of today. Take Jannicke’s anthemic song “Paint Your Sky,” a tune that absolutely bowled me over the first time I heard it. The subtly beautiful, lilting arrangement provides a bed for Jannicke’s clear, almost matter-of-fact vocal addressing the subject of self-doubt. The spellbinding chorus soon kicks in and I have quoted it often through the years. It plays rather continually in my head: “Those you rely on/They seem to be pretending/You’re in denial/Go out and hold your banner high/Painting your own sky… ” It’s unutterably lovely, creating one of the group’s most distinctive lyrical manifestos in those last three lines.

“‘Paint Your Sky’ is a song that shows the mood I was in at that time; happy, self-confident and ready to express myself, without being shy or afraid,” said Jannicke. “I was tired of compromising (myself), which is revealed as a layer of vulnerability in the song. I love the playful bass and the deep electric guitar, and the light, insistent mandolin.” She’s right about the arrangement; it positively dazzles. The group’s harmonies are luminous, and this is sure to be one of the songs that’ll stick in your head upon a first listen to MONOLOVE. But in a stroke of conceptual and sequencing brilliance, it’s followed by an even more unforgettable song, which doesn’t seem possible at this point. “Dead Against the Plan,” oh my lord. Absolutely unbelievable how good this song is. To this very day, after countless listens, I become positively awestruck listening to this Christine and Ingerlise collaboration. I thought about pressing them on how this track came to be, then decided I wanted it to stay somewhat mysterious. Not everything needs an explanation; it’s enough to say this is a stone CLASSIC. I’m not sure I can think of a better example offhand of a giddily inventive arrangement, peerless vocals both in the lead by Ingerlise and in the group harmonies, and the truest form of aesthetic vagueness thematically in the service of a song about something that has gone wrong in an unknown relationship. “Something happened/You could surely have done without” is about all the songwriters are going to clue you into here. There are three or four SEPARATE earworms in this track, and I’m on record already as saying the recording should be taught in music classes at universities as an example of getting every single aspect of a song just about perfect. You know those music-related queries in social media where they ask you, “If you could only listen to one song for the rest of your life, what would it be?” If I wasn’t allowed to cheat and pick the entire ambient album of my choice, I would probably say “Dead Against the Plan” by Ephemera. Inside, I am laughing and crying at the same time when I hear this truly BRILLIANT piece of music making.

EPHEMERA (Christine Sandtorv, Jannicke Larsen Berglund, Ingerlise Storksen) (photo credit BENT RENE SYNNEVAG)

So at this point, I MUST take my hat off to Yngve Leidulv Saetre, the George Martin-like producer of Ephemera, who has shepherded every album of theirs since SUN at the turn of the millennium. He’s produced many other acts as well, including DumDum Boys and Kaizers Orchestra, and he was the lead singer of Barbie Bones in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s. But I’m here to say that Mister Saetre helped this trio conjure absolute magic in the studio, and if I ever met him I’d give him a bottle of fine champagne or something to show my appreciation of his wizardry.

“Yngve is the fourth member of Ephemera,” Ingerlise declared. “From early on, with our debut album GLUE (which he mixed and mastered), he understood what we were working on. Where we wanted to go with our music. Yngve is a very creative producer, creative in the same sense as the three of us in Ephemera. We think the same (at least most of the time), and he understands and catches the depth and the sense, as well as how he challenges us. With MONOLOVE we worked quite productive and fast, because we had such a busy schedule (in between touring). This was not an issue, because we were already on the same page, and knew where we wanted this album to go.”

The famed producer was tough for me to reach; I had tried twice before, most recently with Ephemera’s 2020 comeback album SEASONS, and wasn’t successful. But I got ahold of him this time and he spoke very highly of Ephemera, calling their previous collaborations “open, playful and inspired.” While mostly in sync with the group’s intentions, Saetre said that MONOLOVE posed a particular challenge overall. “It was in many ways a very ambitious project,” he said. “There were different ambitions from many angles, also from outside the trio. It was hard to try to unite all this into the wonderful tripod balance that to me is Ephemera.”

EPHEMERA (producer Yngve Leidulv Saetre) (photo credit CHRISTINE SANDTORV)

Certainly at this point in the trio’s career, pressure was coming from not only within as to what should happen next, but from the industry as well. The discussions must have been rather lively in the studio, but whatever tension may have occurred pushed the group to their highest creative levels yet. You don’t get a masterpiece like MONOLOVE without many, many factors coming together to influence the result. Other musicians have contributed to Ephemera albums in the past, but the sometimes more complex arrangements on their fifth full-length feature contributions from well-known Norwegian players Thomas Dahl and Julian Berntsen (for whom Ingerlise recorded a duet called “The Park 1920”), among others; both are credited on some of the lush strings that the album features, though it is difficult to read the tiny credits on the CD sleeve. My favorite credit reads “Bits and pieces of sound on just about every track,” which is how one of Yngve Saetre’s credits reads. And we also learn that “Long” was recorded live at the producer’s apartment, which helps explain the ambient birdsong and other outside sounds that effectively adorn that song, ending the album with a particularly evocative flourish. Not to mention revealing what a hands-on producer Yngve clearly was. Without making this article longer than it already is, I can only declare straight up that Yngve surely has something to do with the particularly evocative details in many of Ephemera’s catalog entries, two of my personal favorites being “Maple Tree” and “Bye.” To be able to listen to certain songs over and over and ALWAYS get lost in their beauty, takes a secret ingredient in the production, and as both Jannicke and Ingerlise pointed out earlier, Yngve simply has an intuitive understanding of what their songs are aiming for, and how a detail here and there can make them even more rapturous. I can’t know what “bits and pieces” throughout MONOLOVE were his doing, but I bet Yngve had something to do with the three-tiered descending harmonies on “Leave It At That,” or how in the next to concluding song “End,” in the lyric “I see us leaving hand in hand,” penned by Christine, the word hand is memorably repeated a few times in the last minute. And in songs that achieve actual perfection like “Thank You,” “Paint Your Sky” and “Dead Against the Plan,” the producer deserves some kind of award for sonic dazzling. I doubt that George Martin ever heard this album when he was alive, but had he done so, I bet he would have nodded and smiled.

“I’m happy to hear you appreciate this album so much,” Yngve told me. “It’s always a good feeling to hear from somebody who found something of value in something one contributed to. Music has this direct connection to your feelings and you can’t argue with it. When you listen to something, you immediately recognize the way you felt when you got to know it the first time. I have it like this with a couple of other albums that were hard to make.”

I got the sense that Yngve is a modest chap, with an obviously strong work ethic. I wish I could have told him about the many, many transcendent moments on Ephemera recordings that I know he was at least partially responsible for. And to just THANK him for serving the trio so well… “Yngve always has good thoughts behind the work he does,” Christine related. “He allows us to be creative and try things out, while at the same time managing it all in a steady manner. We have never wanted to collaborate with any other producer, because we think Yngve is the best both as a producer and as a person. He understands us in a respectful way, which may have been extra important as an all-girl band.”

EPHEMERA, 2020 (Christine Sandtorv, Ingerlise Storksen, Jannicke Larsen Berglund) (photo credit: MAGNE FONN HAFSKOR)

“We always put a lot of work, all our hearts and minds into the recording of an album,” said Ingerlise. “The devil and the angel are always in the details, and all three of us really love working with the minor details, the tiny twists and turns, sounds and feelings. I think we were all very happy with how MONOLOVE came out in the end.” She added that she thought it was “more mature than some of the other recordings. A more balanced album, from low and ‘heart hurt’ things to the more uptempo and feel good songs. We like it like that, some down, some up. And some songs in between. Like LIFE… ”

As a very dedicated fan of this amazing trio, I have often mused about their working process, i.e. how could they consistently come up with such beautiful music? Their ear for melody, the often subtle sonic detours in the songs, and, I must point out, the rather intoxicating precision of their singing in English… pure musical catnip for yours truly. It’s understood that most Scandinavian artists speak English rather fluently and can make music in that language as well as their own, depending on the audience. I absolutely ADORE hearing Christine, Ingerlise and Jannicke singing perfect words and well-constructed phrases in their soft, beguiling voices. There are many reasons why Ephemera’s music affects me like few other artists, and at least one ingredient is surely their natural, intimate vocal style, which is warm and comforting, eternally. I absolutely BELIEVE everything these ladies sing; there is never a false note of any kind. Listening to “Thank You,” “Do’s and Don’ts,” “Call Me Home,” “Long” or any other tune here is like having a special friend share something important and meaningful with you. Your ears perk up, constantly. The fact that the sentiments are couched in glistening, resonant pop tunes only makes the experience more potent. It’s easy to forget that human beings with their own personal issues and separate ambitions had to perhaps struggle a bit to record this stuff.

“It was a challenging recording,” Christine acknowledged. “I remember a bit of frustration, with different opinions about where we should end up, together with a very strong desire to make something really good. Not too poppy and not too quirky. In retrospect, I think the album turned out really well.”

EPHEMERA, 2024 (Ingerlise Storksen, Jannicke Larsen Berglund, Christine Sandtorv) (uncredited photo)

Speaking for myself as a listener, I’m often fascinated by what the intentions were of the artists I like. It has not always been the case with “Artist X or Y” that their enthusiasm in public statements about their work correlated with my own level of appreciation. In the case of Ephemera and their sublime MONOLOVE disc, I soon came to the conclusion that I probably loved every single thing about this album more than they did! The platter contains timeless melodies, remarkably economical lyrics couched in rich, sparkling arrangements, gorgeous vocals both in leads and textured harmonies (sometimes occurring lower in the mix waiting to be discovered upon the umpteenth listen), and moments of such unforgettable emotional intimacy that I sometimes ended a listening session wanting to just say “thank you” to the universe and this band for, well, the SONG “Thank You” and all twelve other gems on this masterpiece. After any full listen to MONOLOVE, I end up feeling changed, and grateful. I hold the CD in my hands like it is a piece of jewelry or something, gazing at the cover photo of the three lovely musicians posing in a triangle-configured closeup of their heads, and leafing through the minimally adorned but classy booklet, soaking up every detail. And as an aside here, I want to say I still bemoan the devaluing of the CD and the “artistic presentation” in recent years. Yes, yes, I KNOW that downloading and streaming are the way most people listen to stuff, and people just don’t want to pay for physical “product” anymore. Phooey! To me, you simply CANNOT get the full experience of an album like this with a few digital downloads. Or, God forbid, “sampling” it on a YouTube video. I’d say the same about other artists I love like Joni Mitchell, Paul Simon, Talking Heads and more. All of whom, by the way, are also featured in my “Top 10 list of all time.” A really good album/CD is a work of art, something to be savored, something to immerse yourself in.

And that is what I do with MONOLOVE, every time. I’m aware it represented the culmination of everything this Norwegian trio were striving for. They and their crack producer worked their butts off on this thing. They were all at a peak of inspiration, coming off a major burst of attention and ambition, and they gave the world this gem. But it was to be the end of an era. No more new music appeared for 15 years from Ephemera, and while 2020’s SEASONS was a welcome return for sure, and featured the genuinely surprising classic “When the Best Ones Are Gone,” which accidentally became a pandemic-era soundtrack, plenty had changed, including their own career trajectory. On a simple level, all three ladies were just involved in growing families and their regular careers. Is that anything to be sad about? But shucks, in my “dream alternative universe,” there would be a “20th anniversary reissue” of MONOLOVE the way so many bands today reissue deluxe editions of classic albums. There’d be a stunning new booklet with unseen before photos, alternate takes of album cuts and some rarities, and perhaps even a delightful live album of an Ephemera concert, all housed in a handsome, shiny box. What a great treasure that would be in my alternative universe!

EPHEMERA (Jannicke Larsen Berglund, Ingerlise Storksen, Christine Sandtorv) (photo credit: BENT RENE SYNNEVAG)

But back here in reality… I am writing these words not knowing if there will EVER be any new Ephemera music again (hope I’m wrong), knowing that most music fans have never heard of them (unfortunately there is a Swedish heavy metal band with the same name, making any casual search for “Ephemera songs” a problematic exercise), and knowing I am probably the only writer in the WORLD, at least in America, saluting the 20th anniversary of an album you can’t even GET as a physical product anymore except from sellers on Discogs (and I highly suggest you old schoolers who are intrigued by what I wrote here to get the original album that way). I’ll finish by saying I did not want to casually just share some “top 10” list in social media or elsewhere with the Ephemera entry at the top, and then have some people scratching their heads over my entry. “He’s putting this obscure group above the Beatles and Joni Mitchell? What’s up with this dude?” Well, it was a simple evolution over time, that’s all… an emotional connection deep and enduring and truly personal. Because yes, MONOLOVE, by the Norwegian trio EPHEMERA, is indeed my very favorite album of all time, I am proud to say that. And I salute it, for all it means to me, and for the potent and enduring quality of its contents. I’ll let Jannicke (Larsen) Berglund have the last word.

“Music brings us all together. And I love it… ”

For more about Ephemera, here are links to their social media: https://www.facebook.com/ephemeragirls, https://www.ephemera.no/

DO THE ARCHITECTURAL WATUSI Music Features/Interviews Music Reviews Streaming Video | Kevin Renick | September 29, 2024 | 20th Anniversary Acoustic Music Christine Sandtorv Ephemera Folk Music Ingerlise Storksen Jannicke Larsen Berglund MONOLOVE Music Norway Norwegian Pop Pop Music Pop Rock Progressive Folk Rock Rock and Roll Streaming Video Yngve Saetre

WILLIAM SHATNER: THE BLUES

(CLEOPATRA RECORDS; 2020)

William Shatner has been an icon of pop culture pretty much since the concept itself emerged: He needs no summary at all for his influential role as Captain Kirk on the original STAR TREK series, after which he went on to TJ HOOKER, BOSTON LEGAL and an increasingly eccentric series of recordings (the first of which, 1968’s THE TRANSFORMED MAN, is now legendary). Shatner has been satirized, imitated, mythologized and, by certain former colleagues, dismissed as arrogant and self-centered. He’s bigger than life, this guy, and everything he does, just about, commands attention. Not long ago he recorded a Christmas album that sold pretty well, and that must have planted the seed to start exploring other genres. Thus, we now get THE BLUES, an unlikely and potentially controversial collection of Blues standards and Blues-flavored rockers that find Shatner absolutely being himself, for better or worse, in a style of music that would seem to be light years from his comfort zone. How does a privileged white Canadian icon insert himself into a mostly black, angst-laced genre that is all about authenticity and down to earth emotions? Well, he hires a bunch of legendary players to back him, for one. Thus we get guys like Steve Cropper, Jeff “Skunk” Baxter, James Burton, Sonny Landreth, Ritchie Blackmore and others to power the legend through classics like “Smokestack Lightning,” “The Thrill Is Gone,” “I Can’t Quit You Baby” and the Muddy Waters classic “Mannish Boy,” among many others. Let’s start with that last song, which really does work, astoundingly. The groove is a timeless blues template, but Shatner has no trouble at all delivering lyrics like “Now I’m a man, way past 21/Want you to believe me, baby/I have lots of fun.” The recontextualization of such a famous tune is kind of a hoot, and when Shatner sings “I’m a natural born lover’s man/I’m a hoochie coochie man” late in the song, he lets out an energetic “Woo!” that lets you know he’s having fun. Someone will put this on at a party somewhere, and people will be laughing and wanting to know who it is. Same with “I Put a Spell On You,” a timeless chestnut that was already a bit demented in the Screamin’ Jay Hawkins original, so having Shatner here trying to play it just slightly unhinged works fine. The musicians throughout are playing with fierce, bottom-anchored chops as on “Sweet Home Chicago,” “Born Under a Bad Sign” and “Crossroads,” which in a recent interview Shatner said he was fascinated by regarding the apocryphal Robert Johnson story about a minimally talented guy selling his soul to the devil to perform at a much higher level. You wanna be the one to write an entertaining essay comparing Robert Johnson to William Shatner, go right ahead. But Shatner digs in here, and although many will scratch their heads, this stuff isn’t boring. You gotta wonder, though, with the sterling musicianship on “Smokestack Lightning,” isn’t it a disservice to have a hokey, jokey vocal that draws your attention away from the groove? That “Chicago” song, “I Can’t Quit You Baby” and a few others are a bit hard to take; Shatner bellows, screeches and over-dramatizes the words (non-singing, technically) in a manner that can truly annoy. “You hear me moanin’ and groanin’/It hurts… ” go the lyrics, and yeah, that’ll sum it up for many. Shatner’s shtick is more palatable when he’s doing his patented “talk singing,” as on “Sunshine of Your Love,” a highlight here. Shatner’s sense of fun and self-awareness is almost palpable in this performance; he’s winking at the listener, and well aware of the unlikeliness of what he’s doing. “The Thrill Is Gone” is also “Shatnerized” effectively (that word should be in the dictionary by now), as ol’ Bill keeps a sort of subtle mockery in the mix when he tells an unknown woman “Oh yeah, oh yeah/I’m free, I’m free from your spell now… ” with unique vocal tics adding to the impact.

WILLIAM SHATNER, August 2019 (photo credit: GABE ZINSBERG/GETTY IMAGES)

Fans of George Takei will find irony in Wilbert Harrison’s “Let’s Work Together,” which features Canned Heat. If this one doesn’t make you smile, face it, you aren’t destined to be a fan of Shatner’s music. The pauses, the enunciation… pure Bill! If hearing him say “Let’s make life worthwhile” and repeat that title over and over can’t tickle your funny bone, hey, no biggie. Shatner surely won’t care. But if you’re the big picture sort, you may even find poignancy in “Secrets and Sins,” the relatively drowsy closing track here, and the most personal song. I was always moving forward/Was always saying ‘yes’/A thousand little triumphs… ” Shatner chuckles audibly after a few more lines, then says “You may not like this answer/I do everything the same.” Yes and no, actually. Shatner does approach every project in life with the same sense of confidence in his own worthiness, and the same sense of pure fun. But he finds many different ways to BE William Shatner, and to serve up surprises both big and small. Sure, he can be insufferable, and you have every right to think he’s somehow desecrating the real spirit of the Blues on this album. But you gotta admit, he’s got panache… and he enjoys the hell out of his life, now in his late 80s. Personally, I think that makes this album some kind of wacky landmark. Shatner’s still moving ahead at Warp 7.

DO THE ARCHITECTURAL WATUSI Music Reviews | Kevin Renick | October 26, 2020 | BB King Blues Rock Canned Heat Folk Music James Burton Jeff “Skunk” Baxter Muddy Waters Music Rhythm and Blues Ritchie Blackmore Rock and Roll Screamin' Jay Hawkins Sonny Landreth Steve Cropper William Shatner

JUST AFTER ZERO: ALCHEMEDIC

(SELF-RELEASED; 2020)

Any time a new artist releases a full CD, they should be applauded. It takes a whole lot of courage and chutzpah to put a disc out these days and to feel you have something worthwhile to add to the cultural dialogue. For the listener, your general response will be based on two things: “What is different about this entity?” And maybe, “Do the songs grab me?” What we’ve got here is a Saint Louis act called Just After Zero, the musical brand name for one John Liming, who has a flair for observing the nonsensical, consumerist realms of existence, impressive musical chops, and a preoccupation with the sometimes-cinematic and sometimes just taxing side of life. There is cynicism and humor running through these ten songs, and above all, a keen diarist’s sense of the absurd. Fortunately, Liming has the raw beginnings of a pretty original style here, with a healthy dose of David Byrne-ish quirkiness (although Liming’s lyrics are more personal and his delivery less detached) and a touch of Nick Cave’s brooding but vulnerable side. The inherent drama of his vocal delivery works fine when the arrangements match it, which fortunately they do on at least half the compositions on his debut, ALCHEMEDIC. And you get the sense you’ve just met a highly original new songwriter.

JUST AFTER ZERO (John Liming) (uncredited photo)

Liming wisely begins the disc with his strongest track, “Coming Down,” an ultra-cool little chunk of sonics with edgy acoustic guitar, bass, and an insistently simple drumbeat that you’ll tap your foot to. He’s in masterful control here; the guitar playing is terrific, with an economic and surprising electric solo a couple moments in and possibly the best vocal on the record. There’s a vague sense of threat that the narrator is sharing, with the line “I should get out of this town” repeated enough to qualify as a hook. Musically, this is just a solid song all the way. “Backlot” starts with a similarly bracing riff, although it is shorter, and keeps the attention on Liming’s voice. This may be an acquired taste for some… but he doesn’t really sound exactly like anyone else, which I’d say is good. There is a slight tinge of implied paranoia but also a strong sense of survival determination that makes the journey he takes you on less jittery than it might have been otherwise. My favorite of his odd little tunes is “Electric Cicadas,” which is Liming adding memorable flourishes to the template he’s created for himself. There’s undeniable punk-ish energy happening here. “These electric cicadas got me down,” he sings repeatedly, with a brittle, wiry electric guitar solo popping up at just the right moment. And I like the “Oh, no, no, no” exclamation, the best use of that kinda thing since Paul Simon in “Paranoia Blues.” Good stuff, with kinetic energy!

<a href="http://justafterzero.bandcamp.com/track/building-code-under-fire">Building Code Under Fire! by Just After Zero</a>

“Building Code Under Fire” will remind you of a Talking Heads title, “Love Goes to a Building on Fire,” and it takes on messed-up societal processes, a thing Liming seems to think about a great deal. The drama is supplied entirely by Liming’s vocals and a solid acoustic guitar track. Then it’s time for an atypical highlight, “Harvest Song (C’est la Vie),” which is airplay worthy. Serious existential contemplation is taking place here, as Liming sings “I met the devil in a truck stop, he was waiting for a ride/He snapped his fingers to the radio that was playing from inside.” A little bit later, we get “I met the devil in a truck stop and he reeked of kerosene/He said, you better pay attention when you see the things I see.” This is a well-constructed tune that features the most singable chorus on ALCHEMEDIC, and it’s fun to ponder what might have prompted this composition. Another voice and acoustic guitar thing, the song proves Liming cares about the songwriting process… he has good ideas to spare, certainly one of the requirements for an adventurous new artist. “Only Monika” is a somewhat dour little tune that may have a girl’s name in the title but clearly it’s NOT “only Monika” causing the blues here. Then we get another surprise – “Tex Mex,” which is a rather zippy little instrumental that shows Liming can really play guitar, quite energetically, in fact. This is a nice trick for a newcomer to have up their sleeve. And “Irene’s Call” begins with part of a computerized voice talking about credit eligibility, which the subsequent song then proceeds to make a mockery of. Liming’s close attention to the irritations of modern life should provide him material for plenty of future songs, no doubt. He does sarcasm pretty well.

JUST AFTER ZERO (Adam Long, John Liming) (uncredited photo)

At times, a few of these songs aren’t too far past demo stage; Liming benefits from the ones that feature drums, which were played by Ralph Noyes. Liming handles guitar, bass on some songs and of course, vocals. There is a theatrical bent to many tracks, and when Liming gets the balance just right, as on “Coming Down,” “Electric Cicadas,” “Backlot” and “Harvest Song,” you really feel you’re being courted by a bracing new talent. The man has something to say, an eccentric style and presence and a pretty good flair for arrangements. I think we’re going to hear more from him for sure, and the riffs and refrains from some of these tunes are already firmly lodged in my brain. That seems like a pretty good sign to me.

ALCHEMEDIC can be ordered from Bandcamp at: https://justafterzero.bandcamp.com/album/alchemedic. Physical CDs can be ordered for $10 from JustAfterZero@gmail.com.

FIVE QUESTIONS WITH JOHN LIMING OF “JUST AFTER ZERO”

Q1: What is the significance of branding yourself as “Just After Zero” rather than your own name?

John: Truthfully, I was tired of people mispronouncing my last name. The original plan was to go by “One”, a three-way reference between the track from Metallica’s …AND JUSTICE FOR ALL album, which was the first guitar song I learned in high school, my status as a one-man act, and coming up with the name around 1:00 AM the morning before my first open mic. But I worried about it getting mixed up with “Won” and “1”, so I switched over to the more memorable and easily communicated “Just After Zero.”

Q2: Every artist ends up getting asked about their stylistic touchstones or influences. So, what are yours? They don’t just have to be musical artists. But what would you say are the things that led you to making your kind of music?

John: Funnily enough, my biggest influence is from film, not music. I’ve always been a big fan of low budget horror movies, particularly the shot-on-video variety that popped up after the renaissance of cheap VHS camcorders and digital editing software. It’s fascinating seeing filmmakers not much better off than myself just throw themselves at a production and make something on a shoestring budget with precious little technical skill, driven only by a desire to make the movies that scared them as teenagers. The movies end up sweaty, generally ugly, and always fascinating in their interpretation of universal fears. They taught me to not shy away from imperfection, or at least not to trade technical competency for impulse. This inspiration also serves as fodder for a few songs on ALCHEMEDIC, specifically “I Write Horrorshows,” “Backlot,” and “Building Code Under Fire!,” all very literally about the different aspects of cheap production values. Musically, a huge influence of mine is Primus’ Les Claypool. His ability to turn mundane people and places into macabre jokes and character studies is uncanny and guides a lot of my songwriting efforts. Also, “Puddin’ Taine” makes for a fantastic vocal exercise before a performance along with “Life During Wartime” from Talking Heads’ STOP MAKING SENSE album. That’s my hot tip to any musician readers out there.

Q3: “Electric Cicadas” is one of my favorite songs of yours. It’s got a hypnotic weirdness to it. What inspired this song? How would you summarize it for the casual listener?

<a href="http://justafterzero.bandcamp.com/track/electric-cicadas">Electric Cicadas by Just After Zero</a>

John: Glad you like the song! I once had to fill out a ReCAPTCHA to log into a website (one of those tests where you type in a couple of words to prove you’re not a robot) and my words were “electric” and “cicadas.” I started thinking about how ungodly irritating a robotic cicada swarm would be (a combination of obnoxious clicking and bits of hot metal banging into windows at all hours, aluminum legs landing unprompted on your arms with no malice but no real purpose, nobody’s really quite sure why anybody invented something so loud and invasive but surely somebody had a good reason for it), and the words sounded fun to say together. So the song just wrote itself as an acoustic guitar song I could play on the open mic circuit. Then when I got the chance to do a full treatment of the song, I took the formerly human acoustic guitar parts and stripped all the warmth out of them with aggressive gates and filtering to get the feeling of chaotic sterility across.

Q4: Is it fair to say you are more of an introvert than an extrovert overall? What kind of release does music provide for you? It seems on the evidence that you are pretty driven… is there tension for you between ordinary survival type stuff and the energy and focus it takes to make music?

John: I’m an introvert normally, but Just After Zero provides me the chance to be an extrovert for a few hours at a time. In fact, this entire musician gig just started as a New Year’s resolution to play guitar at an open mic to convince myself to get out of my apartment a little and meet some new people. And as it happens, the Saint Louis open mic scene is bustling enough to support an independent musical career almost all on its own.

Music, to me, is the chance to tell a good joke or spark a conversation. When I learn something new (You ever notice how Building Code Under Fire is on every Universal movie newspaper? Wonder what’s up with that.) or come up with a weird hypothetical (You think there’s somebody out there that’s so down in the dumps that a call from a telemarketer is actually a formative event in their life?), the first thing I want to do is tell the nearest person about it. Music is a chance to share that insight and maybe, if I’m lucky, make somebody smile or think about that next spam call a little differently. There’s value in that. Making music is effectively a survival type activity at this point. I get twitchy and hyperactive if I go too long without it, so in that sense it jives really well with the more mundane psychological requirements like sunlight and spicy food.

Q5: Let’s imagine that this guy, we’ll call him Buford T Injustice, a fictional record industry dude, agrees to a meeting with you after hearing the awesome song “Coming Down.” He seems like he wants you to be honest, but you’re not sure. What would you say to him about your goals and aspirations for your music? How much compromising would you be open to, to sell records? If he pairs you up with some known producer, how much freedom would you give the producer? If Buford starts pissing you off, could you tell him you don’t like this direction, or would you quietly take all his suggestions under advisement?

John: I would approach Buford and ask him directly what he saw in “Coming Down” and what, specifically, he wants to see in my future work. I would expect some compromises to be asked of me and I would evaluate them fairly against what Buford would give me in exchange. I wouldn’t necessarily think of it as a chance to just sell records, though. I would try to think of it as Buford getting me in touch with people who want to hear my music, an extremely valuable resource for the increasingly dense musical landscape we’re living in. I would accept the chance to work with a producer on the condition I still get to play guitar and write my own songs. One of the unique aspects of a one-man band is that you don’t get a lot of creative input or pushback, so that could be a really good chance to take Just After Zero somewhere interesting.

<a href="http://justafterzero.bandcamp.com/track/only-monika-acoustic-cover">Only Monika (Acoustic Cover) by Just After Zero</a>

Buford’s pissing me off would be a shame but I’ve worked for irritable bosses before. I would try to keep impartial and determine how much of the friction is actually impacting Just After Zero’s music. Some personal disagreements and irritation are a small price to pay for a publishing deal. If the music begins to suffer or my existing fans start disagreeing with the direction, it would be time to consider hitting the road.

DO THE ARCHITECTURAL WATUSI Music Features/Interviews Music Reviews Streaming Audio | Kevin Renick | April 21, 2020 | Acoustic Music Adam Long Bandcamp Folk Music John Liming Just After Zero Music Music Feature Pop Music Ralph Noyes Rock and Roll Singer/Songwriter Streaming Audio

WEEKS ISLAND: DROSTE

(SELF-RELEASED DIGITAL EP; 2020)

All musical genres evolve and change, no matter what they started as. When Brian Eno coined the term “ambient” for the dreamy, drifty sound he became enamored with in the mid-’70s, it would have been impossible for him to imagine the different directions this stuff would go in over the next nearly half a century. APOLLO, the absolute ambient classic Eno created with his brother Roger and producing partner Daniel Lanois in 1983, found Lanois doing a strange thing: Introducing the pedal steel into otherwise spacey, Eno-esque soundscapes. It was an attempt to comment on astronauts reported fondness for traditional country music. Although viewed as sacrilege by ambient purists, somehow this new and unfamiliar blend worked.

Jonny Campos of Weeks Island (an ambient side project for the guitarist in Cajun band the Lost City Ramblers) was listening. He has just released DROSTE, a 5-track EP that features pedal steel and atmospheric background drone that removes almost every trace of anything you’d call “country.” This is meandering, often haunting ambience that makes a statement without wearing out its welcome. “Raccoon Island” could be the soundtrack for a couple lost in a swamp somewhere, evoking a non-panicky sort of displaced feeling, very much of the background-ish aesthetic that good ambient music excels at. “Fleur Pond” is more sparse but still gently cinematic, with Campos playing his chosen notes with definite deliberation. “Bayou La Chute” doesn’t vary too much, but the bending of a single string upward or downward adds drama and an evocation of being pretty far away from any familiar scenic touchstones. Curiously, this stuff is more purely ambient than Lanois’ diversions on the previously mentioned APOLLO. “Cybrien Bay” adds a repeating low-register tone for something a shade more intense and it contrasts nicely with Campos’ by now characteristic fluid pedal-steel flourishes. And the piece never makes it to the 3-minute mark, The opening “Point Fortuna” is nearly twice as long and represents Campos’ intention here the most memorably.

WEEKS ISLAND (Jonny Campos) (photo credit: WILL HAGAN)

With any sort of weird ambient music, it’s a given that it’s an “acquired taste.” But this is actually a nice little surprise… short, purposeful and totally authentic in its aims to create a southern-tinged atmospheric mini-set that has ambient textures but with pedal steel and the processing of it at the forefront. Let’s keep an eye and an ear on Jonny Campos; he’s demonstrated that he has a feel for this stuff, and meatier works may be in the offing down the road.

DO THE ARCHITECTURAL WATUSI Music Reviews Streaming Audio | Kevin Renick | April 14, 2020 | Ambient Music Bluegrass Music Brian Eno Country Music Daniel Lanois Experimental Music Folk Music Instrumental Music Jonny Campos Lost Bayou Ramblers Music Weeks Island

EPHEMERA: SEASONS

(EPHEMERA MUSIC; 2020) (UPDATE BELOW)

The last time I had the chance to review a new album by Ephemera was late 2004, just after they released their brilliant fifth CD, MONOLOVE. I’d already grown so fond of this sublime Norwegian female pop trio by then, that I wondered if they were simply too good to be true. Who makes music this sparkly so seemingly effortlessly? The gorgeous, impossibly gentle voices employing flawless harmonies; economical and universal lyrics that summed up dilemmas about life and love in simple but relatable terms; inventive arrangements that seemed to always have one extra “earworm” than you’d expect, and a genius producer in Yngve Saetre. Ephemera had already won the equivalent of the Norwegian Grammy (called the “Spellemannprisen” award) for Best Pop Group twice for previous albums, and enjoyed at least one international hit with “Girls Keep Secrets in the Strangest Ways.” MONOLOVE was seemingly a gift for “deep listeners,” as it was a sonic treasure for those who liked more complex textures in their crystalline female pop, and it was a creative peak of sorts for the band. So, were they too good to be true? Or were good things just not meant to last? One couldn’t help but worry when the trio vanished after 2005 into the Norwegian cultural wilderness. Though the group’s songs are in English, there simply weren’t any articles in either language for a while, that made clear what happened. As year after year passed, the dedicated fan would have had to dig deep to discern Ephemera’s plans, and there were no clues on solo albums such as Christine Sandtorv’s FIRST LAST DANCE or Ingerlise Storksen’s ALL THE GOOD THINGS. You were free to speculate, but you probably were just gonna have to WAIT. The simple explanation, however, was that the three women all got married, had children at varying intervals and chose to live a calmer life for a while. They needed a break after five straight years of being a busy Nordic pop sensation; some reassessment was in order. But fans had to be delighted when an unexpected pair of new singles, “Magic” and “Hope” (words aptly associated with this trio), turned up in the latter half of 2019. Yes, they still had the gift! And now at last we are treated to their sixth album (seventh if you count the compilation SCORE), simply titled SEASONS. The girls love one-word titles! It appears right in the middle of a daunting, world-wide pandemic. And it is, simply, a soothing little gem. Whew! We’ve still got one of the finest girl groups in the world out there, serving up wisdom and life stories. Det er en lettelse!

EPHEMERA (Jannicke Larsen Berglund, Ingerlise Storksen, Christine Sandtorv) (photo credit: CECILIE BANNOW)

All the truly great artists have a sound, a style that contains their own flavors and seasoning. Ephemera are purveyors of lilting pop music which alternates between little stories that feature a melancholy undercurrent (sometimes overt, in fact) and upbeat, rapturous odes to love, self-realization, and getting lost in life’s beauty and wonder. They have a gift for making the listener rapturous, too… a few listens to any of their best songs and you start feeling like the world is a bit more awesome than you told yourself yesterday. There is unquestionably a vibe of empathy and inclusiveness in Ephemera songs – they are NOT detached or cynical. They are with YOU all the way, whether you’re mourning a loss or celebrating new love. They make you feel cared about, a somewhat rare trait for most pop ensembles. And with songs like “When the Best Ones Are Gone” and “Heartbeat,” both written by the luminous Christine Sandtorv (although that first tune is sung by Jannicke Larsen Berglund in a mode of absolute goddess-like wisdom and understanding), you can hear the most effective element in music holding you tight: Universality. Few things are more powerful than a great song at making you feel or at least ponder the ups and downs of life. “When the Best Ones Are Gone” is simply one of the most achingly beautiful songs Ephemera have ever recorded, with a gorgeous piano arrangement and a patient introduction of their patented harmony that pays off stunningly. “Everything falls apart/Everything breaks up/Somehow you must start/To pick up the pieces/And your broken heart,” sings Berglund, and then the trio together. If those simple words don’t get absolutely stuck in your head after a couple of listens to the haunting arrangement here, well, you may wanna have your ears checked. The concluding bridge is vintage Ephemera, with the word “undertow” standing out. It could have been an alternate title for this whole record. And “Heartbeat” has a similar timely impact, with Christine’s acoustic guitar and a more elemental but evocative keyboard part setting the scene: In her most sincere, winsome voice, Sandtorv sings “Do you have a heartbeat/Hidden hopes and dreams/As long as you have a heartbeat/You can get back on your feet.” Simply reading such lyrics won’t convey the power of hearing them sung sweetly amidst airily perfect instrumentation. And hearing such things in the midst of a dire time for humanity is overwhelmingly emotional. Many of us are sick right now, or angst-ridden. But the doctor is IN, with the name “Ephemera” on the office door. The doctor will see you now, and the prescription is some beautiful songcraft…

And there is so much more. Ingerlise Storksen is truly one of the most distinctive vocalists in all of Scandinavia; I shouldn’t try to analyze what she does because it is so transcendent when she’s at her best. And she IS here, on “Stranger,” a leisurely sung, dramatically paced slice of perfection with surprisingly minimal lyrics. The theme here is sadness over the sometimes inexplicable distance between people – in this case, the titular but unknown subject. A repeated sequence of four glistening high tones is soon accompanied by a lush string arrangement, on its way to setting up a chorus you won’t forget. The world holds its breath, and then there is a dramatic shift in Ingerlise’s delivery as she sings: “Birds are flying away/I can no longer count the days/I run but time keeps lead/I pray to see you again.” This passage is not merely a peak moment on SEASONS, but one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard on a record. In a single moment of emotive ecstasy, aiming for musical heaven and getting there, Ingerlise will surely have some listeners fighting back tears. The economy of the whole track is simply a marvel, and the sheer vulnerability this trio manages to capture in songs such as this is unprecedented. Then there is Berglund’s songwriting contribution, one of my absolute favorites, called “The More You Give.” Not generally as prolific as her two partners, Berglund has been responsible for some past Ephemera gems such as “One Minute” and “City Lights.” Her tune here is a potent combination of dreamy and weary, with at least three memorable earworms (or “hooks”). As the band’s keyboard player, she often lays down distinctive synth parts that are sometimes merely textural, sometimes the most memorable adornment in a song. They’re always beautiful, and they are truly an Ephemera trademark, especially the repeating swirl of coolly descending tones we’re treated to here. “You always want to be the best you can be/And you always want to see all that there is to see/Just remember to let them deep into your heart/All of those who were there for you right from the start,” she sings; a simple enough sentiment given emotional heft by the sterling arrangement, and the way Berglund’s more laconic delivery contrasts with Sandtorv’s sweeter voice on a couple of lines. Simply great stuff. It seems to UP the sophistication factor for Ephemera, as does Ingerlise’s “Too Good To Be,” a disarmingly sincere missive to someone about, probably, a commitment issue. It’s slow and patient, and true to Ephemera form, vulnerable and beautiful. A gradually ascending piano progression at the end is accompanied by that trademark eerie synth ascending right alongside it, and then the familiar vocal blend – did I mention that this group serves up melodies that always burrow deeper into your psyche the more you listen? And that few acts anywhere manage the splendiferous arrangements that these three women and their uncannily sympathetic producer achieve, song after song? Golly, and I haven’t even touched on the big singles yet: “Magic,” which revels in the band’s full three-part harmony and a can’t-be-beat Sandtorv melody that really DOES bring the magic, and “Hopeful,” a rocking Storksen tune that is probably the most upbeat, conventionally “fun” tune on the album. But the thing is, Ephemera just aren’t conventional. Not by a long shot. Yes, they write catchy tunes that you can tap your foot to, and yes, they experience all the same deep, conflicting emotions YOU do. But these three women happen to be uncommonly gifted as songwriters and arrangers. They’ve been at this for 25 years now (they formed in 1994 and their first CD, GLUE, came out in 1996), they have an enduring, resonant friendship, and by now, they really understand that not only is music a superlative way of delivering portraits of the deepest of human experiences, but they have a quirkily brilliant, musically distinctive and uncommonly delicate way of doing so. There are other girl groups out there, for sure, but Ephemera, like their tunes, offer something both “Hopeful” and something rich in the kind of recorded “Magic” that has earned them fans around the world. SEASONS is a short album (37 minutes) – it’s not as meaty as MONOLOVE, not quite as winkingly industry-friendly, perhaps, as AIR, their acclaimed 2003 effort. But SEASONS comes into a world where the music industry is kind of a mess, royalties are diminished, artists are working with much more restrictive circumstances, and the world itself is in grave peril – the current pandemic being just one sign that civilization has to learn and grow, or it may just burn out. When the stakes are high, Ephemera music sounds better than almost anything – it’s comforting, wise, communal, gently lulling, and always with an ear to your heart. Save yourself an expensive psychiatric bill – just listen to these Norwegian muses instead, and try to remember what a beautiful, exhilarating challenge life can still be…

EPHEMERA (Christine Sandtorv, Jannicke Larsen Berglund, Ingerlise Storksen) (photo credit: CECILIE BANNOW)

SEASONS is available digitally on iTunes, Tidal and Spotify.

EPHEMERA (Christine Sandtorv, Ingerlise Storksen, Jannicke Larsen Berglund) (photo credit: DYVEKE S NILSSEN)

(UPDATE) It’s a mixed blessing that the first new Ephemera album in 15 years would arrive in the midst of a global pandemic. That limits promotional activities and public appearances severely. On the other hand, when they can release a video for perhaps the album’s most beautiful song, one that should be seen by everyone, the healing effect and “we’re all in this together” vibe are profoundly moving. Here is the new video for “When the Best Ones Are Gone.”

DO THE ARCHITECTURAL WATUSI Music Reviews Streaming Video | Kevin Renick | April 8, 2020 | Acoustic Music Christine Sandtorv Ephemera Folk Music Ingerlise Storksen Jannicke Larsen Berglund Music Norway Norwegian Pop Pop Music Pop Rock Progressive Folk Rock Rock and Roll Streaming Video Yngve Saetre

TIRILL: SAID THE SUN TO THE MOON

(FAIRY MUSIC; Norwegian import, 2019)

In a world turned increasingly ugly and amoral, sometimes all you can do is listen to your heart, and hang onto beauty wherever you can find it. That might be on the faces of loved ones, in the changing of the seasons, or in watching waves rolling into some wild shore. Norwegian singer/songwriter Tirill Mohn clearly thinks about such things, and her new album, SAID THE SUN TO THE MOON, is an elegantly simple, melancholy and yet hopeful reminder that all we see and feel is worth pausing to appreciate. The strong impression this lovely recording leaves overall is that of a weary traveler stopping for tea at the home of a trusted friend, having a sweet and empathetic conversation while unburdening his sorrows, and then continuing his journey, now just slightly more centered. Or maybe that’s just the way I felt, wishing I was that traveler, and appreciating what Tirill has to say here.

Let’s start by mentioning the cover, the sort of thing more typically seen on ambient albums. I will never tire of seeing a CD become a beautiful object itself, in this case, one featuring a minimalist, darkish grey shoreline under a mostly cloudy sky, with photos in the booklet of leaves, seascapes and in one case, a fog-enshrouded dock, adorning the individual pages along with the lyrics in a script font. It’s all quite lovely and beckoning. “This album is dedicated to the shift of the seasons, to the beauty of nature in all its phases and changes, and to the human heart that wanders along with it, moon after moon, lifetime after lifetime,” the notes on the inside sleeve tell us. I was already shivering after I read this; I’ve never thought more about that “human heart” than I’ve done in the past couple of years. But then the music starts, as delicate as soft rain on a wooden boat dock or living room window. Tirill’s voice is gentle, soothing, with casual wisdom underscoring the words (some she wrote, some written by others). Soon you’re responding to Uno Alexander Vesje’s evocative harp playing, Sigrun Eng’s cello, Bjarne Magnus Jensen’s violin, other almost medieval-sounding instrumentation and Tirill herself singing like a woodland goddess, playing guitar sweetly for all who will listen. Season-centric songs such as “Autumn” and “Winter” are short and evocative; nothing lasts too long on this album. But there is a lovely, inspired cover of Nick Drake’s “Clothes of Sand”; it’s worth mentioning that Tirill is a devoted fan of Drake and took part in a tribute concert to him a few years ago. This is one of the best Drake covers I’ve heard, truly. The whole album is dedicated to Rudolf Steiner, who wrote about and developed a spiritual philosophy of the “relationship between nature and the human spirit,” with many of his poems here being translated by Owen Barfield for Tirill’s ethereal musings, principally those titled after individual seasons. There is a poem “associated” with the exquisite chamber-folk piece “To the Realms of the Spirit,” but it’s presented here as a string-laden instrumental, a haunting one. “Spring” is a bright and beautiful song fragment, with that harp really luring you in, but then the song is over in just a minute and 15. Much too short, like the actual season of Spring itself. Two of the best tracks are “Shapes of a Dream,” a rumination on mother and son that Tirill penned which has an aching sadness suffused throughout (is it about an unwanted separation? A tribute to the loving memory of one who departed?) and the title track, featuring lyrics by Kathleen Jessie Raine. That one is about change, how it is both inevitable and something to face with understanding and clarity. The quiet, folksy sound of this piece could induce tears, and Tirill’s musicians play with the most evocative, understated grace for such a timeless theme. “Iridescent Horizon” begins sounding like an eerie ambient sonic, but is actually one of two spoken word pieces here, and it’s worth following along with the words if you have the patience for this kind of thing. It’s subtitled “To a Beloved,” and in fact, many of these pieces have a subtitle clearly chosen for what the song’s added meaning might be (the Drake cover says “To a Past Love”, the memorable “Under the Small Fire of Winter Stars” is subtitled “To a Friend”). In that one, a whispering goddess, half-dream meditation, which comes and goes on a nocturnal ambient breeze, Tirill implores her listener “And if it happens that you cannot go on or turn back/And you find yourself where you will be at the end, tell yourself in that final flowing of cold through your limbs, that you love what you are.” I could use such gentle persuasions and all the other impossibly empathetic sentiments Tirill gifts us with on this fragile song cycle, as I continue winding my own way across the sometimes mean, merciless landscapes of modern times.

DO THE ARCHITECTURAL WATUSI Music Reviews | Kevin Renick | February 2, 2020 | Acoustic Music Ambient Music Bjarne Magnus Jensen Folk Music Import Kathleen Jessie Raine Music Nick Drake Norway Orchestral Music Owen Barfield Pop Music Rudolf Steiner Sigrun Eng Tirill Tirill Mohn Uno Alexander Vesje World Music

UPCOMING: THE VANDOLIERS

(12 July, 2019; OLD ROCK HOUSE, Saint Louis MO)

Two of my favorite things converge on Friday, July 12: Bloodshot Records and Old Rock House. The former is represented by the self-proclaimed “Converse cowboys,” the Dallas-Fort Worth band, the VANDOLIERS; the latter is one of my favorite places in the Lou to experience live music. The band is opening for PARKER MCCOLLUM, an artist of some repute in his own right, and touring in support of their third album and Bloodshot debut, FOREVER. As if you’re gonna need another reason to head out to the super-cool Old Rock House for this show, here’s a brief description from the band’s bio: “It’s twang and tattoos, grit and guitars, honky-tonk and horns, Tejano and Telecasters.” What more could you ask for on a Friday night?

DO THE ARCHITECTURAL WATUSI Live Music Preview Streaming Video | Darren Tracy | July 9, 2019 | Acoustic Music Bloodshot Records Bluegrass Music Blues Rock Country Music Country Rock Folk Music Music Music Preview Old Rock House Parker McCollum Rock and Roll Saint Louis Southern Rock Streaming Video Tejano-Punk Music The Vandoliers

DANIELSON: SNAP OUTTAVIT

(JOYFUL NOISE RECORDINGS; 2018)

Love ’em or hate ’em, Danielson, as they have been called for a while (used to be Danielson Famile), have given the pop world one of the most aggressively original and impossible to ignore musical styles ever conceived. That’s not easy to do, and it has something to do with Daniel Smith’s remarkable falsetto voice (he doesn’t use it ALL the time, but it’s there in abundance on the early albums), the crazily off-kilter arrangements and the blend of sweet sonics (the female members of the troop have light, soothing voices which contrast effectively with Smith’s style) with lyrical wildness. It’s no longer a big deal to talk of Smith’s sincere brand of Christianity; there is literally nothing about that which should influence your response to the music anymore. Smith is after bigger game anyway; he has the instincts of an impassioned art rocker, and the razor-sharp focus of your favorite classic rock singer/songwriter. I have been a fan of Smith’s creation since his family’s masterpiece of a second album, TELL ANOTHER JOKE AT THE OL’ CHOPPING BLOCK. I delighted in hearing the extreme reactions of friends here and there upon encountering this highly original sound. While often challenging and a bit abrasive, I could handle anything Master Smith and company could throw at me. Therefore, it’s a bit odd to report that SNAP OUTTAVIT, a recent five-song Danielson EP, is… accessible. Sorta commercial. Easygoing. There isn’t a single track that would make anyone I know gripe, “Take that off, please!” It’s still original, of course.

The title track features, well, the title, chanted over and over by Smith while his wife Elin and sisters Rachel and Megan sing a contrasting ethereal chorus. It’s kind of strange but definitely not unlistenable. And that weird “chorus,” if you can call it that, stops here and there for a fairly normal verse or two, that sounds like, well, a singer/songwriter with something to say. Whatever that might be. “Dry Goods Dry Power” was released previously on a limited-issue vinyl EP; it’s a catchy, “normal” sounding rocker with a propulsive two-chord structure overall. Sure, there’s an eccentric middle section that has some of Smith’s patented falsetto, but not that much. It certainly is not weird compared to, say “Good News For the Pus Pickers” or “Cutest Li’l Dragon.” By the time you reach “Pendulum Mania” on this disc, you’re sort of WANTING the weirdness, if you’re a dedicated Danielson fan… and this tune mostly delivers. The girls keep singing “Swinging back and forth/Swinging back and forth now,” while Smith goes on about some convoluted topic that moves in a nice non-linear fashion, thematically. This is an imaginative song, and I have no idea what it’s about, but it’s Danielson. I like it!

DANIELSON (David Smith, Elin Smith, Rachel Galloway, Andrew Smith, Daniel Smith, Megan Slaboda) (publicity photo)

Then we get to “On Purpose,” the first song to break the five-minute mark. Here, Smith does a thing he does so well and that I used to dream about doing in a studio myself: chanting a commonly used phrase over and over, in this case, “What do you know?” It’s eminently listenable, beginning with subtle marimba and a surging background sound before that repeat phrase kicks in. Yeah! Best song here, methinks. The structural ambition of Smith’s songs is really a thing to behold, and this’un shows it quite nicely. But again, it’s not abrasive. It won’t drive anyone from the room. In fact, I can imagine some favorable “Hey, what are you playing right now?” type responses. “Who Hears Twell Van Dunder” is the kind of bizarro Danielson title that every album features examples of: What you get here is spoken voices saying things like “So happy to see you” and “Been thinking of you” and tingly marimba notes, before a childlike melody kicks in. I’m betting the children’s voices belong to Danielson offspring, and that everyone had a good time recording this gently ruminative little number. This is family music, all right. But not the family you know down the street. It’s the very talented, very original Danielson family, Mister. They play music. They sing combinations of things you’ve never heard before. They are passionate, driven and in love with life. And even if this modest little disc doesn’t truly blaze new trails, it’s a nice little reminder that one of the most original acts in pop is still out there, doing their thing. It’ll do fine until and if, Smith feels like launching another wacky full-length into the sonic universe. If you’ve never given Danielson a chance before, well, this might be a good time to “snap outtavit.”

DO THE ARCHITECTURAL WATUSI Music Reviews Streaming Video | Kevin Renick | June 24, 2019 | Acoustic Music Alternative Rock Avant-Garde Music Christian Rock Daniel Smith Danielson Elin Smith Experimental Music Folk Music Gospel Music Megan Slaboda Music Noise Rock Post-Punk Music Progressive Folk Rock Progressive Jazz Rock Rachel Galloway Rock and Roll Streaming Video Theatrical Rock

NEIL YOUNG/JOHN HAMMOND

(June 28, 2018; FOX THEATRE, Saint Louis MO)

A chance to see Neil Young solo is rare indeed, and Saint Louis fans have not had that opportunity for many years. As a lifelong fan, there was no way I would pass up such an opportunity. I’ve seen Neil with Crazy Horse, with CSNY, with the International Harvesters, with the Stray Gators and more, but the solo acoustic concerts have certainly been among the most memorable. When I flew to San Francisco in 1978 to see Neil at the tiny Boarding House nightclub, that may well have been the most stunning concert I’ve ever seen. So, to say I was stoked for this rare Saint Louis solo show would be an understatement. John Hammond, a grizzled old blues rocker, opened the show despite not being billed. Favoring a bottleneck guitar and looking as craggy as an old oak tree, Hammond was amiable and interesting, but there was some restlessness getting through his set. And it was at least 45 minutes after he finished before Neil finally came out. Dressed all in black, a la Johnny Cash, Neil looked around, waved to the crowd, and finally took his seat. He opened with the nostalgic and totally appropriate Buffalo Springfield-era classic “On the Way Home.” This song speaks volumes to die-hard Rusties, and Neil delivered it with focus and clarity. In fact, it was quickly apparent he was in great voice tonight. At his age, it’s a wonder he can still reach most of those high notes. “Homefires” was next, the first of many surprises. That song was intended for the unreleased HARVEST follow-up, HOMEGROWN, and I couldn’t help but think it was kind of a comment on Neil’s changed love life in the last two years. “I’m free to give my love/But you’re not the one I’m thinking of/So for me, the wheels keep turning/Got to keep those homefires burning.” His ex-wife Pegi might have been the one Young was NOT thinking of. He is certainly thinking about new gal Darryl Hannah, and plenty.

“Love is a Rose” and “Only Love Can Break Your Heart’ came next, and the latter was a special treat for me. I could not remember hearing that one at a Neil show before, and it was charming. Neil told little anecdotes about many things during the show. He pointed to several guitars and with a couple of them said, “I got that one from Steve Stills. He’s a great guy.” In fact, it soon became apparent that Neil was in an especially chatty mood. This is not typical for him at all. “I feel like I’m talking too much up here,” he remarked at one point. “Like I’m doin’ a job interview or something.” “You’re HIRED!” someone bellowed from the audience, and it was a memorable moment. Young fiddled with his harmonicas, telling his assistant he needed a “C harp.” But when he started the song, he quickly stopped and said, “No, I need a B flat harp!” That song was “Mellow My Mind,” one of three he performed from TONIGHT’S THE NIGHT. He told the story of how he and his band had all drunk alot of tequila and gotten into a certain mood, so they could pay tribute to Bruce Berry and others who had died around that time. Neil played great, ringing piano on that song and “Speakin’ Out,” another tune I had never heard him do. The audience went nuts when he talked about a time in his career when he changed the type of songs he was writing, and how the Kent State massacre drove him to write about a new ill wind blowing in. He then performed “Ohio” on solo electric guitar, a truly compelling and unexpected moment, one the sold-out throng reveled in. His only hint about the times we’re living in came when he talked about school shootings and all the “anger” out there, leading to the fiery song “Angry World.” Some of us thought he might bring up our current president, but that did not happen. It was clear that Neil was NOT speaking from a script; spontaneity was the rule of the night.

For me, after Neil talked about where two of his pianos came from (one had fire damage and he was still able to play it), I was thrilled to hear “There’s a World,” possibly one of his most underrated songs. It’s a dreamlike ode to looking both inward and outward, and Neil played it with great delicacy. That was one of about five songs he played from his most popular album, HARVEST. “Are You Ready For the Country,” a note perfect “Out On the Weekend” and “Heart of Gold” were others. “Love In Mind,” a tender ode from the “ditch-trilogy” live album TIME FADES AWAY, also got an airing… wonderfully evocative. But for hardcore Neil-ites and “Rusties,” the one-two punch of “Love and War” and “Peaceful Valley Boulevard,” from the not often heralded LENOISE album, were the emotional peak of the show. Both these songs touch on violence, things being out of control, and environmental apocalypse, with love being seen as the one necessity for all of us, the ultimate way to peace. The guitar Neil played on that latter song allows for a certain rich, atmospheric resonance in the simple strumming of a powerful chord. The edgy sound, which potently rang through the entire theatre, accented Neil’s existential lyrics perfectly. “A polar bear was drifting on an ice floe/Sun beating down from the sky/Politicians gathered for a summit/And came away with nothing to decide… Who’ll be the one to lead this world/Who’ll be the beacon in the night?” Most in the audience sat in hushed awe.

Unfortunately, that did NOT include a chowderheaded idiot across the aisle from me, who simply could not shut up. He drew a few complaints with that, but when he stood directly in front of the people behind him and blocked their view, that’s when it got serious. The addle-brained druggie (I was sure he had to be; no one could be that rude just naturally, could they?) earned two visits from ushers, but even that didn’t do it. When he continued to jabber, the guy behind him had enough and probably called him a name. The two men stood up, and I was about to witness a fight, I thought. Right here during Neil’s apt song “Love and War”! The good guy’s girlfriend intervened to stop the violence, instead opting to go for security. They did, and the troublemaker was unceremoniously removed by Security. Maybe it’s just me, but if I paid $100 for a Neil Young ticket (or even more), I would not get so fucked up that I would lose all sense of decorum and risk getting escorted out of the show prematurely. Takes all kinds, I guess.

Neil appeared to not be phased by shouted requests or various fan comments. “What d’ya mean?” he said wryly, when someone shouted “Old Man!” And he remarked “It doesn’t even register” after another comment. It was striking to see this iconic, charismatic legend stalking the stage, walking this way and that way, looking as if he was making it up on the fly. “I would do something if I could remember what I was just thinking,” I believe he said near the end. The show barely grazed the 90-minute mark. He closed with “Needle and the Damage Done” and “Heart of Gold,” and was coaxed out for a single encore, “Tumbleweed,” which he played on ukelele. The tender song was clearly directed at Darryl Hannah, a sweet ode to her positive influence on him (it appears on the soundtrack to their new movie, PARADOX). Always leave ’em wanting more, it is said. Mister Young did just that; the fans were yelling until the lights went on. Altogether an eccentric, often dramatic and mostly moving performance by a performer who is seldom less than mesmerizing. I counted in my head, and with all the configurations I’ve seen him in, I think this was Neil show number 25 for me. Many moments from this one will stay with me. That’s how it tends to be with Neil Young shows.

DO THE ARCHITECTURAL WATUSI Live Music Reviews | Kevin Renick | July 4, 2018 | Acoustic Music Americana Blues Rock Classic Rock Country Rock Folk Music John Hammond Live Music Music Neil Young Pop Music Rock and Roll Saint Louis The Fox Theatre

WHAT’S INSIDE