When I met Austin-transplant and Montana native, folk-rock wunderkind Fiver, at Quack’s Coffee, he stood out strangely from the hip and fashionable patrons. Seated outside next to his black lab, Fiver sipped a soda and pensively flipped through a worn book of poetry during our brief interview. His tightly-cut, almost military style hair, dark, piercing eyes, and strong nose complimented his track jacket and dickies, making him look more like a Scottish soccer hooligan than a Dylanesque troubadour. As he answered questions he avoided eye-contact and nervous ran his fingers through his hair.
“It’s difficult turning that same microscope that I maybe use in my songs back on myself. I don’t think I have as much capacity for self-examination as I’d like,” Fiver stated as he pet his dog, Hazel.
The admission seemed in many ways as if the youth was selling himself short. Equal parts literate, verbose musings on the state of the Nation, God (or lack thereof), and the working man’s dilemma, to incisive and stark confessions on personal tragedy, loss, and haunting humor, Fiver’s sparse, earthy approach to the classic singer-songwriter mold recalls Conor Oberst if he was more into Woody Guthrie than Dylan. Still, Fiver is very much the poet. He flips through a compendium of Auden excerpts, landing on “The Fall of Rome,” from which his debut LP gets its names.
“I just think that . . . and I’m not educated on this or anything like that . . . that Auden was talking about people like me here. Runaways from the system. I get a real sense of flight when I read this poem.”
Fiver, real name Tennessee Sturges hails from a small town in northeastern Montana. His father died in an oil accident in the early 90s he said and his mother kicked him out of the house at 16 for being gay.
“I don’t like to talk about my sexuality all that much. It is what it is. I’ve lost a lot of old friends because of it. Friends who are in the Army now, in the Marines, which is pretty much all you can be if you’re from that town. That or an oilman and I wasn’t going to do either of those things anyway.”
Leaving with a pickup truck, a sizable collection of books, and his trusty canine partner, Fiver left for the big city lights of New York. It was here, almost two years later, that the young man made a name for himself amongst the Occupy Wall Street movement, singing his brand of dark, confessional workingman’s songs to the huddled protestors. But it wasn’t until his sparse cover version of Bright Eyes’ “Ladder Song” began making waves across the blogosphere that listeners really began to take notice.
“That’s a devastating song. I’m not even all that familiar with his music. I like folk as much as the next guy – Dylan, Leadbelly, Singin’ Brakeman, Muddy Waters, Scruggs, etcetera – and Conor Oberst’s music definitely seems to fit that mold a lot, even if he really rejects the label. But that one song, man, really struck a chord with me. So many of my friends, whether in Montana or New York, they just kind of gave up. And I just wanted to shake them and say “there’s no point in dying!” So I recorded that song in someone’s shower in Brooklyn, which was inexplicably in their kitchen, along with all the other tracks and here I am.”
Fiver has since migrated to Austin due to what he considers “a capacity to love folk musicians – a great big musical heart.” He’s about to embark on a Winter tour of the US, traveling with little else than his dog and his guitar in his beat-up old Chevy. Oh yeah, and his impressive collection of books.
“That’s where Fiver comes from. It’s one of the rabbits in Watership Down, the prescient one who insists they travel away from their home. That was always me. The little artsy kid that no one ever liked but under that surface was deep and introspective. I love that book.”
I asked if that’s where his dog Hazel’s name comes from as well. He cracks the first smile of the day.
“No, that’s obviously Hazel Dickens my friend. Good eye though.”
Mp3s are forthcoming Cannibal Cheerleader readers. I’ll post them soon. Until then, stay hungry!
2010 was a pretty rough year. Lots of change, lots of stress, lots of new experiences. I’ve changed immensely, even though outwards I appear the same. I’ve taken some time off from the blog and my creative pursuits in general and I don’t regret it. I needed this time away to reassess my attachment to writing, to music, to “fandom” as it were. And I’ve made a lot of decisions about what I really want Cannibal Cheerleader to be.
Most importantly though I read the stories about Esme. For those not in Austin, Esme Barrera was a local music lover, Waterloo Records employee, mixtape maker, teacher, Girls Rock Camp Austin instructor, and all-around Austin weirdo. More importantly though, she was a wonderful friend to the people that surrounded her and a passionate, thrilling individual in her own right. I did not have the pleasure of ever meeting her, but we certainly seemed to have traveled in the same circles. It would come as no surprise to me if our paths crossed multiple times, whether attending some loud, dingy, punk rock house party, or rocking out to some new riot grrrl band at Emo’s, or snarfing pumpkin pancakes at Kerbey Lane Cafe, my old gig. Sadly, Esme was callously murdered on the morning of January 1, 2012 by an unknown assailant in her home, and I’ll never get the chance to be her friend. That opportunity has been stolen from me and so many other people by some evil person, still walking the Austin streets.
I think that’s why this affects me so much, and Austin more generally. Esme is everyone in this city and everything we’ve grown to love about Austin. Crazy, bizarre, wild, fun, and wistful, but equal parts thoughtful, intelligent, creative, deep, and passionate. It could just as easily have been one of my close friends injured or killed in this bizarre attack. As an aside, it’s despicable that the women of Austin should feel threatened by violence in such a progressive town.
I have also been astounded at the outpouring of support and grief over Esme’s passing. How can one Austinite so deeply affect so many people, including those she’s never met? Was it because she was a rock music fan? A cool chick that liked to go to parties? That can’t be right. Such a shallow perspective wouldn’t do justice to a person like Esme. Instead, I think we all see the creative energy that Austin lives and breathes coalescing in Esme. A messy creativity that’s confusing and inspired; consumed with fandom but erupting with volatile independent energy all the same. It’s not stilted, it’s not haughty, but Austin-style creativity is clumsy and immediate and fiery and all-too-quickly extinguished. That’s why Austin is such a singular place and Esme, as it’s picture-perfect representative was so special to us all.
So as I sat in my studio apartment on the edge of Hyde Park over the Christmas break, I began to think about how best I could react to Esme’s passing. I have and do encourage everyone to donate to Esme’s family. But what could I change in my personal life to better reflect the sort of person Esme was? I looked back on the last few semesters in law school. The parts of me that were so married to the idea of attending law school and becoming a better writer and a champion for the needy have now become entangled with the desire to work at a prestigious, big-wig law firm, inexplicably defending the same giant corporations that I hate with every fiber of my being. And for what? To maintain my appearance as a smart individual? As a go-getter?
What if it had been me that night? What would people be saying about me? Would they be trading my mixtapes, reading my old blog posts, watching my old videos, or eating my favorites at Kerbey Lane (fish tacos!)? Or would they remember me best as the guy who always trying too hard to be the smartest guy in the room? The careerist? The big-shot lawyer who cared more about the prestige and the big paycheck than art, Austin, or his friends?
This is what we all have to consider. The former option to me is so romantic and achingly beautiful, personal and heartfelt in all the right ways. It reminds me that I don’t have to succeed — ever. At least, not in the shallow, materialistic sense. I don’t have to write the next great American novel, or even have the best blog in town. I don’t have to get the big promotion or the top job at the top firm.
I just have to try. Try to be a creative, independent, singular, weird individual, the likes of which Austin spits out so regularly. People like the much-missed but never forgotten Esme.
And that’s my challenge to myself. To keep writing. To keep creating. To restart my blog. Write for pleasure. Make art. Make waves. Consider the process. Reject the big outcomes. Reject superficial results. Have strong opinions. Create. Create. Create.
Just try for a second. Try to recapture what I’ve taken for granted for so long. Just how much I love Austin. But more importantly, how much I love the people in it. I’ll be posting here on the regular. Doesn’t matter what. Doesn’t matter how. But I’ll be doing it.
And that I think is the best way for everyone to remember Esme. Dedicate yourself to creativity. To inspiration. To not following the norm. Donate your time to helping those less fortunate. Volunteer with local organizations. Make art furiously. Teach. Be a good friend. Be happy. But never ever forget to live each day like it could be your last. Leave behind a legacy of ideas and opinions and loves and bad poetry and awesome mixtapes. That’s the easiest path to immortality. Live like Esme did — everyday.
The Mynabirds seemingly burst onto the scene this year with their dancehall-cum-chamber pop record What We Lose In The Fire, We Gain In The Flood, but frontwoman Laura Burhenn, formerly of the woefully underrated act Georgie James, has been at the rock game for quite some time now. Thus it’s no surprise to understand how quickly the singer-songwriter got back into her dancing shoes after the demise of her former group, and it’s in her new western folk rock group that she seems more sure-footed than ever. Equal parts a subtle, syrupy, choir-tune folk record and a boot-stomping, Nashville barn-burner, What We Lose… fills the gap that normally a Cat Power or Neko Case release would occupy. However, 2010 that space belonged exclusively to the Mynabirds and who knows, maybe after a few more records they’re be right up there with the big boys as well.
This week Cannibal Cheerleader is going to be highlighting our favorite releases of 2010 with an emphasis on artists we haven’t seen on many (or sometimes any) of the major music blogs’ lists. While these bands may not have the hype, resources, cash, or fanbase of Kanye or the Arcade Fire, they have all crafted music of an equivalent mastery in their own right and without a big budget. We begin with one of our favorite acts from the beginning of 2010, Giant Drag.
Like steel-toed boot thudding down into an ankle-high puddle of blood, the Swan Song EP splashes and thunders with a joyous clamor that was well worth the five-year wait between releases from this blasting LA-based duo. Frontwoman Annie Hardy’s lilting voice belies a raucous fury and each of this release’s four tracks flies off the speaker cones when her shriek peaks or a riff careens spinning off the frets. Even when not belting away her haunting croons, Hardy’s pedal-stomping, masterful guitarwork takes the form of a snarling Doberman lending a growling edge to even the sweetest of lyrics. These are love songs with teeth, crunchy breakup tracks with gore and guts abound. The whole EP is over as quickly as it begins, a maelstrom of layered guitars and a walk along the razor’s edge between heartfelt and eat-your-heart-out. Even the closer, the acoustic “Heart Carl” burns like forgetten Zippo, unfettered by the wind and batting back the darkness of some squalid, awesome, rocking night club. We can’t wait for this group’s new album, hopefully out in 2011!
Cannibal Cheerleader is taking a break while it’s lead writer John B. is in law school. However stay tuned for some frightening revelations as the holidays draw near…
That’s right Cannibal Cheerleader faithful, we’re relaunching our ZINE – it’s time for volume 2 of the much missed Cannibal Cheerleader zine and we’re packing it full of rip-roaring bloody stuff. The CC crew are all in agreement that the reactionary nature of the blogosphere runs antithetical to our more nuanced reviews of current and past music so we’re shifting our focus to the zine entirely. However, let it be known that through cannibalcheerleader.com you’ll be able to find out news about the zine, when it will be coming out, and how you can get your hands on it. Until then, stay hungry faithful followers and shoot us an email if you’re interested in finding out more – cannibalcheerleader@gmail.com. Au revoir, for now…
You’ll have to forgive the Cannibal Cheerleader crew for being a bit behind on this one (we are law students after all). Still, it would be disengenuous to say we haven’t heard of this NYC duo whose firestorm of hype swept up the blogosphere with such fury as to drown out all but their brand of rap-via-smashing-guitars sound – we’re of course talking about the inimitable Sleigh Bells.
And while we can only claim that they hype was what drove us away originally, we’re kicking ourselves now that we haven’t been on this smoking bandwagon all along. Sleigh Bells are, in a word, phenomenal. A furious face-melting teeth-shattering wholly jarring smorgasbord of throat-punch noise rock wrapped around a devastatingly horrific flow that’s as indebted to Alice Glass as Outkast. An amalgamation of LOUD LOUD LOUD and more of the same with enough room for catchy melodies despite that. Suffice to say, both literally and figuratively Sleigh Bells has knocked us off our feet (we have the stitches to prove it).
The simple formula seizes with boldness and accomplishes a degree of arresting complexity within its limited confines. Blown speaker cones and nonsensical splattered lyrics from the likes of producer Derek Miller and emcee Alexis Krauss respectively create a singular experience completely unlike anything else we’re experiencing now in punk rock. This duo has taken disparate elements and smashed them together to create a highly volatile mix of crunk and carnage. Probably our favorite album of the year so far! Can’t wait to see them when they swing through Austin on Oct. 9th!
Seems like just yesterday we were reviewing the masterfully woven Stuart Murdoch solo project God Help the Girl, and now, fresh off that welcome musical breather, the band’s all back together, releasing the first proper Belle and Sebastian album since 2006’s The Life Pursuit. To say that Write About Love (or more specifically Belle & Sebastian Write About Love) is a refreshing followup would be an understatement, as would a ‘return to form’ writeup. This is the group at some of their best, combining the lyrical density from their Sinister yesteryear, the pop hooks from their Catastrophic days, and the lush production they’ve recently Pursued.
The group have been saddled with the crown of indie-rock superstars for well over a decade now, growing and morphing with each subsequent album. What may distinguish this latest release is its penchant for slow-burning romanticism, bouncing happy romanticism, all around lovely, hypnotizing, enthralling, intoxicating romance; from songs like “Come on Sister” to obvious standout, Murdoch’s duet with Norah Jones “Little Lou, Ugly Jack, Prophet John”. A fantastic collection of B&S tracks that stand up to some of their best work ever. If the band needed a 5 year break to return to the mindset of making music this fantastic again, so be it. Well worth the wait.
Austin’s best kept secret finally has some recordings to their name – White Dress. The self-titled EP from the Arum Rae-fronted blues-rock duo showcases the incredible range of musicality this group can accomplish in just five short songs. Beginning with the tender and lilting “Light Hearted”, a classic country tale of years gone by too fast, the album quickly takes a sharp turn with the rip-snarl of “Wearing Red”, with its shattering opener, fuzz-choked guitar roars, and Rae’s inimitable croon. “No Solid State” is classic Nashville session band with an experimental edge, combining harpsichord warbles with boom-tsk drum work, all sounding raw and haunting as if through blown speaker cones. “The Kill” sounds as if its sung from beyond the grave, with echo-filled vocals being tossed about in a sea of pummeling guitar riffs, and “Five Feet of Road” ends the EP on a thrashy, downtrodden rager that sees Rae smearing the instrumentation across the record like lipstick on a truckstop bathroom mirror in a slithering, sexy fashion. Rae’s penchant for combing classic blues musicality, kicking it up an art-rock notch, and injecting it full of overt heat and passion puts the Austin transplant on par with some of the best indie artists working today. Overall a fantastic and utterly fearsome debut – here’s hoping we can hear more soon!
Indie-rock upstarts the world over should look to Arum Rae, frontwoman from Austin blues-rock duo White Dress, for tips on showmanship. At a recent performance at the beer-and-blood soaked Hole in the Wall, a venue where the jukebox refuses to play anything that ain’t sad or Cash, Rae swiveled her hips and pursed her lips, growling and smoldering around every lick and hook she choked out of her six-string.
White Dress’ live appeal has always been surrounded by the inimitable power of Rae’s singing voice and audience connection, on display even more prominently after a band restructuring. Now featuring Grant Van Amburgh on sticks as Rae’s only support the singer’s electric antics are on full display and her quiet personal demeanor belies a snarling rock goddess as she struts about the stage pummeling out careful licks with ease and poise. Burning through standouts from their new self-titled EP and ending with a haunting cover of “So Lonesome I Could Cry” Rae and Amburgh walk the line between consummate Nashville session players and underground indie wunderkinds. All in all, this is the kind of music every artsy, smoky bar should be playing religiously. Our favorite Austin band of the year! Check ‘em out at their next show, Sept. 16th at Trophy’s.
Again, sorry for no pics people, serious tech issues but do listen to White Dress! Review of their EP tomorrow!
Sorry about the delays of last week Cannibal Cheerleader faithful – more than one technology defect has been hindering us, grr! But we’re back on track this week with a live review of none other than the Mynabirds (sorry no pictures, again our blasted tech issues!)
Studies in perseverance should be conducted on the musical career of Laura Burhenn. Having begun a solo career a decade ago in D.C. and bouncing between disparate indie-rock acts such as Georgie James, the artist never seemed to quite break the mold with a sustainable formula – that is, until her recent reincarnation in the form of the majestically elegiac Mynabirds who recently swooped through Austin.
For all the difficulties of the past, the Mynabirds more appropriate moniker might be the Phoenixes, as the tribulation and hard-fought little victories have all coalesced in their brilliant new record, appropriately titled What We Lose in the Fire We Gain in the Flood. Setting up their equipment in unison before a crowded Mohawk in Austin, Texas the members of the group keep the neat report of road-traveled consummate professionals, but there’s no hiding the giddiness and elation that underlies their coming action. With a subtle, quiet voice Burhenn invited the audience to listen and they eagerly dove into their reverent folk-rock world with their album opener “What We Gained in the Fire”.
Despite the subtle touches of chamber-pop that snuck into the crannies of the reverent songs of the band’s debut, Burhenn and co. came off as every bit the dance-hall country band, practically propelled airborne on the wingspan of the frontwoman’s towering voice. Each song began with a tender croon that, like the waves of some booming tide, came rising and crashing into the audience in increasing intensity until all were swept up in the magnificence of the musical moment.
Blazing through most of the tracks off their debut LP the group proved not only capable singers but accomplished musicians, burning through guitar solos and piano breakdowns with the ease of bandmates who you know are having a blast. All in all a fantastic display from one of our favorite bands of the year. No doubt will make our top ten list!
