Wednesday, December 18, 2002

Will play for food (drive)

• Vancouver, B.C. favorites get audiences into the spirit of the holiday season with an exchange food-for-CDs drive.

By Steve Stav, for the Ballard News-Tribune, Seattle, 2002.

Vancouver B.C. "Celtic bluegrass" sensations the Clumsy Lovers are making holiday donations of the most altruistic kind. Not only have they recorded some great Christmas music, but the band is giving it away at their concerts. Well, not giving it away, technically; they're trading the discs for food or money in order to feed hungry families.

"In the jam-band scene that we sometimes get associated with, they support a lot of food drives and environmental issues and so forth — especially at Christmas time," said the Lovers' ace fiddler, Andrea Lewis, from a Kinko's in Boulder, Colo. — where the road-weary group was printing more concert flyers. "But it doesn't always seem that the bands themselves are giving something of themselves, other than pushing these organizations. We couldn't afford to play a month of free shows, but Chris (Jonat, the Lovers' leader, bassist and idea-man) thought that we could cover the cost of going into the studio and putting out a two-song CD."

A Very Clumsy Christmas features two numbers destined to be perennial favorites. The first is a stunning version of Robbie Robertson's "Christmas Must Be Tonight," reworked in Clumsy Lovers-by-way-of-the-Pogues style -- followed by "Snoopy's Christmas," a bluegrass-fueled mish-mash of Peanuts tunes, including "Snoopy vs. the Red Baron."

"We're pretty happy with [the CD], we went into the studio and banged that out in half a day," Lewis half-hoarse from a nasty cold, commented nonchalantly. "We had a friend [Amy Stephen] come in and play accordion and tin whistle. We had talked beforehand about what we wanted to do, it was pretty relaxed -- no pressure."

The Lovers' amazing Christmas offering caps a triumphant year for the quintet, which also includes drummer Devin Rice, vocalist-guitarist Trevor Rogers, and recent-recruit Jason Homey, an award-winning banjo picker who has enhanced the group's bluegrass leanings.

The band has spent much of the last 12 months on the road supporting a stellar album of cover tunes that have been gig staples and fan favorites. Under The Covers With The Clumsy Lovers reflects the group's quirky, frenetic formula that has made them one of the Northwest's most popular live performers -- the top-notch musicians wander all over the pop-music map, re-inventing everything from Paul Simon's "That Was Your Mother" to Lynyrd Skynryd's "Sweet Home Alabama," to two Beatles songs, two Pogues numbers, and even the J. Geils Band's "Centerfold." Even the CDs cover is a clever take on nostalgia -- the band was photographed sleeping under the Canadian flag, in homage to the Who's The Kids Are Alright album. Lewis, a classically-trained violinist who wasn't previously familiar with the Who's classic cover art, remembers the photo shoot well.

"Flags are expensive -- that flag was $500, but you could rent it for $75," she said. "When we rented it, the lady at the shop asked what we were using it for. She said that that was fine, but that we couldn't take it outside. We said OK, but of course, the photo shoot was outside. We were very paranoid about not getting our shoes on the flag or anything. We carefully folded it up and Chris took it back...The lady began inspecting the flag, she opened it up and there were three pieces of grass in the folds!

"At that point, Chris was sure that we had a $500 flag, but she let it go," Lewis, the group's most attention-getting member, added.

At press time, the Clumsy Lovers had just concluded a nine-week tour that took them from their B.C. stomping grounds, through the West and Southwest, to the East Coast for their first-ever New York City performances, in which the band was enthusiastically received. The do-it-yourself dynamos will be taking five days off for Christmas before a playing a big New Year's Eve show.

The band will be back in the studio in January, starting work on a much-anticipated new collection of original songs that Lewis described as "taking five times more money and time" to make as their previous records. For the time being, though, the Lovers are thoroughly enjoying performing during this holiday season.

"People have been really receptive," Lewis enthused. "In Boise, for example, people donated about 250 pounds of food and something like $225. We went through over 150 CDs there.

"We're having a lot of fun," she added, "I don't think we've ever played Christmas music before."

The Clumsy Lovers • Under the Covers • 2002 • Clumsy Lover Records

Originally published in the Ballard News-Tribune, Seattle, 2002.

copyright 1997-2011, Steve Stav

Wednesday, September 18, 2002

From Austin to Austin

• Martin Zellar’s heart remains in Minnesota

By Steve Stav, for Ballard News Tribune, Seattle, Sept. 2002.

Singer-songwriter Martin Zellar lives in Austin these days, but his heart remains in Minneapolis. Zellar enjoys a sort of icon status there; in the late '80s and early '90s, his Twin Cities-based band, the Gear Daddies, developed a huge following that still exists today. Following a brief ride on the fame roller coaster (which included their hit "Zamboni" appearing in the films "Mystery, Alaska" and "The Mighty Ducks"), the Daddies dissolved, with Zellar continuing on with a backing group, the Hardways (Dan Neale - guitar, Scott Wenum - drums, childhood friend and Daddies bandmate Nick Ciola - bass).

Zellar and the Hardways frequently play in Minneapolis, the Northernmost city of a circuit that begins in the Lone Star State. The singer also occasionally haunts Minneapolis and the midwest with his wildly popular Neil Diamond tribute act, Neil!

Zellar's addictive new album, "Scattered" (OwenLee Records), demonstrates his ability to capture a working-class everyman's bouts with loneliness, longing and self doubt -- and often resolves them with renewed determination or optimism.

"Scattered" is essentially an Americana record, with dollops of honky-tonk and Minneapolis barband brushed on in spots. It's also a handful of musical snapshots of Zellar's life -- which began in the dreary, small, meat-packing town of Austin, Minn.

SS: You play music, you have a wife and two kids, and you don't have a day job. What is there to be depressed about?

Zellar: I think part of it is just genetic -- I was a melancholy child, to put it mildly. And, the way I grew up wasn't exactly the "Cleavers." My dad was in the hospital pretty much non-stop from the time I was in nursery school, and subsequently didn't have a lot of money.

The other part of it is that I don't sleep well, and I tend to write in the middle of the night when no one else is around -- you tend to get introspective at night. But I don't think my song writing is indicative of my overall personality.

SS: Scattered is your first album in four years. What were you doing in the meantime?

Zellar: I've been playing a lot, but a lot of it is laziness. I'm not a big fan of the studio ... I tend to put it off. I had written a lot of songs; when we went in (to the studio), we recorded two CD's worth of stuff ... the songs that ended up on "Scattered" was definitely the more introspective of the bunch. They seemed to fit together, thematically.

SS: Did you go to Minneapolis to be a musician, or to just get the hell out of Austin?

Zellar: I went to Minneapolis just to get out of Austin, period. Music was certainly something I dreamed of, but I didn't think of it as a possibility

Growing up in Austin, you just didn't think that that kind of thing is a possibility. I listened to a lot of music as a kid... I just didn't dream that it would become a reality for me.

SS: Was the Replacements' success an, influential or motivating factor for you?

Zellar: Yeah, definitely ... in more ways than one. I saw them play — I thought, 'Wow! This is a band that does what they do and saying, 'Take it or leave it.'" To be brutally truthful, the only reason the Gear Daddies ever got signed was that there was so much attention focused on Minneapolis at the time. Seattle certainly went through the same thing. At the time that we got signed, there was the Replacements, Husker Du, Prince, Soul Asylum... it was such a hot spot, labels were sending A & R men to Minneapolis and saying, "Sign a Minneapolis band."

We were at the proverbial right place at the right time ... there was no reason for us to be signed to Polygram, we weren't a major-label band. We just didn't fit into the system, and that became apparent almost right away. I don't regret it -- we toured, we got on Letterman, we got some cool equipment; but, at a certain point, it seemed like we were running in place.

SS: Music is a very curious business these days.

Zellar: (laughing) You said a lot there, man.

SS: I meet so many artists who had some big-label success at one time, but musically, are much better now. And, as far as Americana or whatever goes, you have Ryan Adams getting a ton of airplay, while there's a million guys out there playing club circuits that can blow him away.

Zellar: I started out on the smallest label you could find, in Minneapolis; then we got signed to this behemoth -- Polygram; then went to Rykodisc -- which is, depending on how you look at it, either a small major or a really big Indie; and now I put out CDs on my own. So, I've been at every level in this business. What I haven't been is "huge."

People that I know who have been through that -- like Soul Asylum -- I feel terrible for them. It's the ultimate double-edged sword. You get up there, and then where do you go? The number of bands that reach that level is tiny, and then the amount of bands who manage to stay up there is almost non-existent.

SS: Was your move to Austin a business decision?

Zellar: No, definitely not. My wife and I were both raised in Austin, Minn. We had just reached a point in our lives ... the winters were just beating me down. Not only the cold, but those January-February days when the sun just doesn't come out.

Over the years, I'd been through Austin, Texas a bunch of times, and it seemed to stick out from the other cities we stopped at on tour. My wife and I went down there once and found a house that we loved, and put a bid on it -- our move was impetuous, to put it mildly.

SS: At what point did you reconcile the "Cracklin' Rose" Neil Diamond with the sell-out, "Love On The Rocks" Neil Diamond?

Zellar: (Laughs) I don't. My love of Neil Diamond includes recognizing that it's pretty funny, too. The whole thing started out as a joke, period. Way back when, Soul Asylum was playing a gig, and we thought it would be really fun opening for them doing this Neil Diamond thing.

We fully expected to be objects of scorn, that it would be like some Andy Kaufman routine where people would just hate our guts. But they loved it..,. we did it a few more times, and then it took on a life of its own. Now, it keeps us busier, and everyone can pay their mortgages a little easier because of the extra gigs.

It works because it's funny at the same time -- there's some great pop music, but there's a sense of humor as well. I've seen Springsteen tributes, and they don't work as well, because they're too serious about it. At our shows, there's huge Neil Diamond fans, and then there's people who are laughing hysterically; it works at both levels. 

Originally published in the Ballard News Tribune, Seattle, Sept. 2002.

Copyright 1997-2011, Steve Stav

Saturday, June 1, 2002

The shit from Shinola

• An interview with Seattle’s Americana sweethearts, Shinola.

By Steve Stav, for Backfire magazine, Seattle, 2002.

When it comes to making music, there are basically two types of artists --those who record their compositions and then wait and see if a critic or label exec "discovers" them, and those who record and then venture out to make things happen, or die (or, at least, go broke) trying.

Seattle-based Shinola, a band steeped in the performing precedents set by Springsteen and Petty's Heartbreakers, are artists of the latter variety. While their recording career hasn't been consistent (their first full-length, the '80s-bar-band-echoing Lucky Stars, was released in December) Shinola, by means of sheer persistence, has achieved some enviable feats over the past couple of years -- including playing the Gorge Ampitheatre's second stage twice and climbing their way to the top rung of a Lucky Strike-sponsored "Battle of the Bands" series.

Formed more than four years ago by whip-smart, half-Canadian, quasi-rednecked brothers T.J. and Kyle Martin, Shinola eventually recruited punk-rock bassist Kevin McGregor, an Arizona native and former semi-pro footballer with the delightfully lazy demeanor of a Carolina hillbilly. More recently, Mike Nelson, who has played in a number of Seattle bands over the last 15 years, has replaced their old friend Michael Bailey on drums.

Widely respected in Seatown's music community for their integrity and kindness, Shinola is also known for its sense of humor. Their banter is peppered with a seemingly continuous patter of put-downs -- the fine art of the insult seems to be an integral part of their communication with one another. And given this band's intellectually schizophrenic makeup, a typical conversation with them can cover topics such as politics, economics, samurai philosophy, deer season do's and don'ts, and the religion of NASCAR. However, as Classic VHI's forgotten videos flickered in the background, I steered the quartet towards the equally-fascinating realm of rock 'n' roll.

SS: You're always 'workin' it, hustling for gigs and so on -- when didyou start being so aggressive, business-wise?

TJ: After El Camino (the band's second EP), we very quickly came to realize that we weren't going to get any more people to our shows, we weren't going to get any better shows ... nobody walks into the Crocodile on a Thursday night and says, 'These guys are awesome, I'm going to make them famous!' We figured that if we wanted to get further along, if we wanted more than 50 to 100 people coming to our shows, we had to do it ourselves. There was no managers, no publicity agents, no booking agents that were doing anything for bands that didn't already have something going on. We learned everything by trial-and-error.

Mike: It's a basic attitude that you have to have ... we're the ones that have the most at stake. Either you go out and work and bust your 'nads, or you sit around and wait for someone to do it for you.

Kyle: The biggest thing that happened to Shinola -- as far as getting shows, making records and so on -- is getting a solid line-up. You can't go on the road until you get people that want to get in the van and do it -- and consistently do it.

T.J.: This is the first time we put out a CD where all of the same band members recorded the album, played the CD ielease party, and worked on everything that happens from there.

SS: This new album has got a great 'live' sound. How did you avoid going overboard with production?

Kyle: What's funny about Lucky Stars is that we captured what Shinola really is about -- we did these intense recording sessions; we didn't string it out. From recording and mixing to mastering and pressing, it took about four and a half weeks -- Bam! just like that, we had a CD in our hands. [Avast Studios engineer] Kevin Suggs has worked with us before, and he knew just what we wanted.

[Joan Jett's "Bad Reputation" video appears on the TV]

Kyle: Joan Jett is totally cool.

Kevin: You won't see a girl like Joan Jett in Seattle.

SS: The thing I miss about the old days in Seattle is the grittiness -- the new money that came in washed everybody that looked like Joan Jett out of downtown.

Kyle: I was down by Pacific Place the other day, and I thought, "I am so underdressed here."

T.J.: Keep in mind, Kyle was wearing his John Deere hat.

Kyle: But the point is, everyone downtown seems to shop at Eddie Bauer --they're all dressed alike. It didn't used to be that way.

Mike: Unless you're a yuppie, you can't afford to live downtown.

SS: Who thought of the name 'Shinola'?

T.J.: I thought of the name. We had been going by the name of 'Shiner' before Gator Meat [their debut EP] came out. But there was a band out of Kansas City called 'Shiner' that was getting a lot of press and attention. We were talking to local booking agents that were asking if we were the Shiner from Kansas City, in our own hometown! So we decided that things had to change before we put the CD out.

SS: Did you take it from that old expression 'You don't know shit from...' or from the shoe polish company?

Kyle: Well, that's where 'You don't know shit from shinola' comes from... it was an expression that our dad used to say to us all of the time. We later found out that it referred to shoe polish!

T.J.: We went down to the UW School of Engineering, where you look up patents and such, and we looked up different names. I thought of 'Shinola,' and found out that no one had the copyright on the name to sell recorded material. An interesting little fact: we later had to have a lawyer send a note down to a band in Nashville going by 'Shinola'-Dolly Parton's nephew was in the group, and she actually sang on their CD.

SS: In retrospect, what was the best thing about your Lucky Strike odyssey?

(The band, simultaneously): Our van and trailer.

Kyle: We had a broken down old van, and we were thinking of how we were going to get a new van. All of the sudden, boom! Lucky Strike comes along and gives us money to travel -- supposedly money to fly and to rent gear with -- and instead we boughl a van and trailer.

T.J.: Thank you, Big Tobacco! Lucky Strike has a bold, yet smooth flavor!

SS: But none of you smoke...

T.J.: Well, yeah... the other great thing about that deal was getting to play the House of Blues on Sunset Strip and the Great American Music Hall in San Francisco. We played with a great band out of LA called Sunchild. But the best thing about that whole experience was, after it was all over, we still had that van and trailer.

SS: Kevin, what's your New Year's resolution? To quit drinking?

Kevin: [Reclining and seemingly half asleep, McGregor is nearly incapacitated by a bad cold] Nah, I really don't drink much. I guess it would be to get back into "football shape."

Kyle: You say you don't drink much, yet there's a glass of whiskey in your hand.

What is the band's New Year's resolution?

T.J.: We're gonna play a shitload of shows.

SS: Given this country's suddenly patriotic fervor, and in lieu of another Springsteen 'Born In The U.S.A.' tour, I take it that you're taking your encapsulated 'arena rock' act on the road?

T.J.: [laughing] We're an 'arena-rock' pellet.

Kyle: [laughing] Just add 'arena,' and you've got your 'arena rock.'

SS: But would it be fair to say the U.S. needs rock, and you're there to give it to 'em?

T.J.: Well, there's always been rock bands out there, and people into it. But what's happened is that a lot of people have gotten into other types of music, a lot of fluffy stuff you hear on the Top 40. But the wheel goes around, and rock is coming back.

SS: Music is generally considered a 'liberal' medium...

Kyle: Don't tell Ted Nugent that.

SS: So I find it odd that so many musicians have jumped on the patriotic bandwagon, a lot of them who, in any other time of military action, would be protesting in the media.

Kyle: I'd like to get something right out on the table -- when September 11 happened, we were right in the middle of recording Lucky Stars. The concept of the album cover -- the stars-and-striped pants [Nelson's Evel Knievel leather trousers], the colors -- that was done before that happened. Actually, we had a meeting about the cover a long time ago -- we decided that we were tired of people bagging on America, that it's time to bring rock, and being proud to be American, back in style. It's so unfortunate that it took such a terrible thing like September 11 to wake up some people, to make them realize that America is an incredible country to live in, that they're lucky to be here.

Originally published in Backfire Magazine, Seattle, 2002.

copyright 1997-2011, Steve Stav