Love’s the Only Thing That Ever Saved My Life: Sturgill Simpson at Jack Rabbits

“Marijuana, LSD, Psilocybin, and DMT/They all changed the way I see/But love’s the only thing that ever saved my life.”

-Sturgill Simpson in his poetic masterpiece Turtles All the Way Down the Line

That was going to be my hook for this post. Shit, it does the trick, right? But during the process of ensuring that I quoted Sturgill properly, I Googled the lyrics to the song. Spend a couple of minutes with this-

I’ve seen Jesus play with flames in a lake of fire that I was standing in/Met the devil in Seattle and spent nine months inside the lion’s den/Met Buddha yet another time/And he showed me a glowing light within/But I swear that God is there every time I glare in the eyes of my best friend…

     There’s a gateway in our minds that leads somewhere out there, far beyond this plane/Where reptile aliens made of light cut you open and pull out all your pain

Those lyrics ain’t exactly Top 40 material. Yet Sturgill Simpson humbly and graciously pointed out mid-set at Jack Rabbits last month that two artists had more than one album on the Billboard charts at the time of that show- Sturgill and Taylor Swift.

For juxtaposition’s sake-

‘Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play/And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate/Baby, I’m just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake/I shake it off –Taylor Swift

Such is the good and somewhat befuddling of American society. We are huge and diverse and we sell out Jack Rabbits on a Sunday night for a guy who managed some semblance of mainstream success with lyrics like, When reptile aliens made of light/cut you open and pull out all your pain, while simultaneously making a multi-millionaire out of Kim Kardashian.

To each their own, but meanwhile Sturgill Simpson is our time and place’s answer to Steve Earle or Waylon Jennings or any number of transcendental talents who made us think about country music in a different way- genre-bending bad asses that completely reinvented tunes of a certain bent.

He undeniably sounds a lot like Waylon- a fact that Sturgill begrudgingly acknowledged mid-set when he declared that Jacksonville would be witnessing the last time that he would cover Watasha, and then proceeded to melt our faces with an outstanding version of Waymore’s Blues.

Comparisons aside, Sturgill Simpson stands soundly on his own two feet. There are few singers or songwriters in roots music who can hold a candle to Waylon Jennings. So far in his rise to prominence, Sturgill Simpson belongs in that breath. He put on the kind of show that keeps a working man out beyond his bedtime and leaves him buzzing for days subsequent. We witnessed slam poetry for the intellectual Southern set that night- a beautiful moment that is unlikely to be recaptured due to the size of venues that Sturgill now rightly commands. Here’s to hoping that the tides of popular sentiment allow the Sturgill Simpson’s of the world to keep pace with the starlets of pop.

New Year’s Eve with Antique Animals at Underbelly Live

Joe Shuck’s voice sounds like a freight train driven by Kurt Cobain running over a mutant grizzly bear. It’s gritty and soulful and it grabs you from the first song in the set and doesn’t let go until his band, Antique Animals, has fully sated you. Shuck is a rockstar in the tradition of Sid Vicious or Jimi Hendrix- intoxicated and intoxicating, a throwback to punk rock and soul, stumbling that tightrope half-drunk. And when his narrator tells a man about the things that are happening between “Me and your daughter”, you believe him. In fact, the whole show seems real- like dude is unencumbered by pretense or the attempt to impress anyone. He professes his love for the audience and the band and everyone returns the gesture in kind. Trumpet, drums, guitar, bass, vocals, and audience all working with the common goal of living in a passionate moment.

My New Year’s Eve was supposed to include the legendary Greg Allman with the legendary-in-my-mind J.J. Grey and Mofro. But, we waited too long to buy tickets and that show sold out. So my friends and I were left with finding a plan B. I wanted to see Antique Animals on New Year’s Eve last year, but a girl got involved and messed that up. This year I am fortunate to have a woman in my life who, far from discouraging me to do such things, wholeheartedly supports such ideas. And a wildly successful idea it proved to be. Antique Animals put on the kind of show that you want on New Year’s Eve- fun and energetic, with a perfect mix of originals and not-so-obvious covers like an outstanding version of Nine Inch Nails’s Closer. It was a fitting end to a year that brought opportunity and change- a year that proved to be dynamic and trying, but ultimately beautiful. Cheers.

Hold On: Alabama Shakes at the St. Augustine Amphitheater

This is unbelievable. One of the better shows I’ve seen.

Her voice is from a different planet.

And charismatic on an Axl Rose level.

Electric out here!

It’s like Otis Redding made a baby with the Rolling Stones and Spliced the genes with the Marshall Tucker Band.

Above is the actual string of text messages I sent during the Alabama Shakes’s recent performance at my favorite venue in Florida, the St. Augustine Amphitheatre. Some shows are carried by the energy of the band and its symbiosis with the crowd. Others are great because of musicianship. Still others benefit from an other-worldly spot like Spirit of the Suwannee where me and a handful of half-tight friends could put on a bearable show. But every once in a while a show brings all of that at once- a great band, with a great presence, in an enchanting venue, with a loving and eager crowd. This was one of those experiences.

Few entertainers charm quite like Brittany Howard. As lead singer of one of the more under-exposed bands on the planet (they should be selling out huge arenas, seriously) she keeps you entranced with her energy as much as with that astonishing voice. From throwing her glasses to knocking over the mic-stand, Brittany brings it through each bar of every song, holding on to your fingertips behind her as you try to keep up with her sprint toward mind shattering climax after mind shattering climax.

There is not a throw away song in the Alabama Shakes’s catalog, a reality that hits you in the face when you are fortunate enough to take in the live show. We mused aloud that it would be amazing to hear her cover Ella Fitzgerald or Otis Redding or Aretha, but left the Ampthitheatre that night thankful for the fact that no such work was attempted in the seventeen songs we were treated to that evening. To do so would have been to deprive us of one or more of their own incredible compositions. It was an outstanding performance that ranks among my four or five favorite shows of all time- an outstanding experience from start to finish in one of Florida’s most beautiful venues.

Among the lessons learned that night was that by far the best way to experience the St. Augustine Amphitheatre is to camp at gorgeous Anastasia State Park, the third most visited state park in Florida according to the surly tool of a ranger who “greeted” us as we pulled in early Saturday evening. Ranger Salty further informed us that it was unlikely they had any campsites open, this park being number three and all. Thankfully, there was a spot left. I’ll get a reservation next time, but the welcome and scarcity of real estate was all water under the bridge once we set up camp and took the short walk to the Ampthitheatre, and the glory of the Alabama Shakes’s first trip through Florida.

Sweet Magnolia

Drive-by Truckers is the best rock n’ roll band touring right now. And, Spirit of the Suwannee Music Park is the happiest place on Earth. So it made a certain amount of sense that the two met at Magnolia Fest last weekend. What may not be as clear is why DBT played the 11:30 slot Saturday night. What else could Mag Fest do? The great Mavis Staples played before the great Willie Nelson in the prime time slots. Legends win that battle every time; and I suppose they deserve it. But Drive-by Truckers is consistently, overwhelmingly tight- night in and night out. Even with a hint of being over-served, and while battling some sound issues, they killed it for two hours. It was reaffirmation for me that I will not miss them when they get close, and will do what I can to make my way to the Spirit of the Suwannee as often as possible.

Spirit of the Suwannee Music Park is just such a cool spot. Hundreds of acres on the banks of the gorgeous Suwannee River are all that they sound like they would be. Oak tree canopies, cypress tree lined ponds, and good vibes abound for four days of incredible music in a beautiful setting. The experience is epitomized by the amphitheater stage- a natural amphitheater draped by the aforementioned canopy. It is nothing short of magical. The bigger names can’t fit there which adds to an intimacy. But it is big enough to have hosted the likes of Kris Kristofferson, Stephen Marley (who may have been the second best “show” of the entire festival), and Drive-by Truckers during Mag Fest. The alternative showcase is the Meadow Stage, which hosted names like Willie Nelson, John Prine, and Mavis Staples on this particular go round. All of those were worthy viewings, but it was Drive-by Truckers ending off Saturday night that really delivered the blissful climax. Willie’s set was not quite what it has been in years past. It is still Willie Damn Nelson, but the sound wasn’t quite right and dare I say he may be finally showing his age. And Mavis Staples was wonderful when she was on stage, but her googly hip kept the former member of the Staples Singers backstage or seated for a good portion of her set. DBT was more than happy to pick up the slack. They came on right at 11:30 to an enthusiastic crowd that was plenty lubed up and ready for a raucous show.

Therein lies the almost oxymoronic reality of Drive-by Truckers. Their music is rowdy and whiskey-soaked and often dark-themed, but they are such incredible musicians that the experience feels like a perfectly crafted performance party. The two hours were filled with almost no banter other that Patterson Hood’s outstanding story-telling around a couple of songs and Mike Cooley’s well received joke about no one sneaking off to take a piss while the boys played a new song. Both frontmen are rockstars in the truest sense, but ones that seem like they would be the coolest guy at the party because they are just that awesome at life, not because they take themselves overly seriously. Mag Fest makes you want to go back there (and see Drive-by Truckers) every weekend. And if I could, I would. Guess we will just have to wait until Springfest brings a former Trucker in March.

Gentlemen of the Road

Music festivals are only half about the music. The other, probably more important half is about the experience. The greatest musicians in the world can be killing it for days, but if you aren’t surrounded by good people and good vibes, then you’re stuck with a bunch of holes to fill. And, when you have ’em, as the late, great Townes Van Zandt wrote, “them holes are all that’s real.”

The Gentlemen of the Road Festival in St. Augustine left no such holes to fill. The music was incredible, the vibe was as good as you could ask for, and the setting was dripping with St. Augustine charm.

Mumford and Sons was the headliner, but there was plenty to chew on before they even sniffed the stage. Friday’s main draw, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, came in with a lot of hype. They are the type of band that no one has a bad word to say about, which can be a recipe for a letdown. But they easily exceeded those expectations with a high energy set that left everyone in that euphoric state where you just want the show to continue for another hour. The good news for festival goers was that arguably the greatest touring bluegrass band on the planet (The Del McCoury Band) was playing outside of City Hall after Edward Sharpe’s set.

Friday night could have been it- The Walkmen, followed by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, followed by The Del McCoury Band, all in gorgeous downtown St. Augustine. That is one hell of a festival in its own right! But, the Gentlemen of the Road were far from finished. Fun. was scheduled to play before Mumford and Sons Saturday night, but they cancelled so there was a hole to fill- not one like Townes talked about, a much easier hole to plug when you apparently have John Fogerty on standby. The legendary Creedence Clearwater Revival frontman started his electric set with The Vaccines as his backing band and then brought out Mumford and Sons for the second part of the show. At one point Marcus Mumford was playing drums. Let that sink in. The lead singer for the band with the reigning album of the year to their credit was playing drums for John Fogerty. It was every bit as incredible as it sounds.

The Gentlemen of the Road was impossibly cool- from the artwork, to the setting, to the lineup and patrons. Everyone was feeling good and treating each other accordingly. St. Augustine charmed like St. Augustine is want to do, and hopefully festival organizers took note. This would be an amazing annual event. Cheers to the possibility.

Swing the Casbah

My buddy Jay ain’t a Florida boy. He’s from Cleveland. But he’s a bad ass dude- plays trumpet, teaches his ass off, and is almost always the best dressed guy in the room. So, despite my prejudices in favor of our fair state, I listened when he spoke about music in Jacksonville. Prior to our conversation I was confused by the naysayers. If Jax is not giving you enough music, then you must not be paying attention. We have great local bands from Fjord Explorer to Four Families to Antique Animals to Slickwater. But Jay brought up a good point about Jacksonville’s local music- we don’t have a particularly robust jazz scene. UNF has a renowned jazz program, and there are a few places around town to see really good music, but you can’t necessarily find something every night the way you can with Americana or Rock influenced tunes.

As a musician, Jay also has his finger on the pulse of what jazz scene we do have. So little arm twisting was necessary when he said that Casbah, one of the coolest spots around, has really good live jazz every Sunday night. I know, Sunday night is tough. You want to start the week off strong and have potentially indulged on Friday and/or Saturday. I had the same reservations before actually giving it a shot at a time that was convenient for me (i.e. one that did not include work the next day). What actually happened was that I went into the next day inspired and re-energized; and the same held true after subsequent trips.

Casbah itself is worth the trip- with its outstanding Mediterranean fare (try the stuffed grape leaves or makdous- “baby eggplants pickled and marinated in olive oil and garlic, stuffed with walnuts and roasted red peppers, and topped with walnuts”) and charming Avondale location. Add oustanding live jazz and you have a Sunday night hang that I was almost reluctant to write about for fear of increasing competition for a table.

Jacksonville has some really good live jazz; it just may take a little digging to find. And, I have found that going to a show like those at Casbah will get you plugged into other opportunities- thus increasing awareness of what is out there and encouraging local places to book more jazz acts. Only good things can come from more jazz in Jax – except for maybe an uptick in slightly hungover employees. Most of us will pay that small price for more enriched lives and a healthier community.

Cory Branan and Jon Snodgrass at Underbelly Live

After their show at Underbelly this past weekend, Cory Branan and Jon Snodgrass said it better in under 280 characters than I could in the 300 words to which I usually limit myself in this space. Snodgrass tweeted, “Playing a show @underbellylive in Jacksonville FL is something I endorse. Good room, great sound, good people, great times.” For his effort as pithy tour historian, Branan tweeted a picture of his blood stained guitar with the words “working for a living.” And that about sums it up. Snodgrass, a fine songwriter from the equally fine band Drag the River, and Branan, a hard to pin down, but brilliant singer-songwriter from Mississippi, enthralled the robust-for-a-Sunday crowd for hours beyond expectations- workin’ their asses off and literally pouring blood and sweat into the performance. It was a fucking rock show in the truest sense.

Case in point, near the end of the night Snodgrass slowly started to walk backstage and piece a drum kit together while Branan kept doing his thing, and once Jon’s job was complete he just sat there with a huge grin and smiled contently- very little keeping time, just a quirky, fitting exclamation point on a show that included two ridiculously talented musicians giving their fans every penny’s worth.

I mentioned that Branan is hard to pin down, and would be remiss if I did not elaborate. It’s as if Ben Nichols was cross-pollinated with Ryan Adams and then dunked in a vat of Otis Redding’s tears, resulting in a dynamite cocktail of whiskey-soaked singalong songs with equal parts grit and beauty. And the man is a force of nature onstage. He is the rare talent whose music translates equally well onstage and on record. Cory walked away from Underbelly with bloody fingers, both men walked away with new fans, and we all left there with fuzzy memories of one of the best shows I have seen in a long time.

Deeper In

That Five Points is the epicenter of cool in Jacksonville needs little examination. That Five Points is on its way to being the coolest place in Florida may require a tick more discussion. So, what can take it over the edge? It already boasts the Five Points theater, a small handful of boutiques and thrift stores, a bad ass Irish pub, some really good diner food, and a park full of positive energy. One of the few things missing was a record store. No more. Deep Search Records has joined Five Points, and it feels so good.

Deep Search sells used books and new records on Lomax Street, right next to Tapa That. The front part of the store is open with couches that invite you to sit with a cup of the Bold Bean Coffee sold at the counter. Used books greet you first, followed by new vinyl- everything from Cat Power to Miles Davis to A$AP Rocky. It is the kind of place that could anchor a neighborhood- a venue for poetry readings and local music and the robust exchange of ideas.

If Deep Search’s Grand Opening is any indication, the new kid on the block will be exactly that kind of venue. The celebration lasted all day, from noon until 10:00 at night. I arrived at around 4:00 with the express purpose of seeing one of my favorite local bands, Four Families. Each band only had about thirty minutes to do their thing, and man did they. Next up was Sea Cycles, an atmospheric, Explosions in the Sky-esque local outfit that occasionally features a female vocalist with a beautifully haunting voice. The impossibly cool-ly dressed crowd enjoyed free Intuition People’s Pale Ale, browsed and bought records, and made friends with other impossibly cool strangers. It was a fitting beginning to what I hope is a long tenure of cultural events and quality records.

Slow Down- Vinyl in Jacksonville

It all moves so fast and with such urgency, then it is over. We only have so many meals, so many beers, so many dancing partners, and so many albums before we meet our maker. But for some reason our society is hell bent on speeding up the process. One symptom of that disease is the proliferation of all things digital. Digital culture has placed the paperback book in danger, made us communicate in 140 character bursts, and eliminated the experience of appreciating an album for many. But that is precisely why taking a step back and soaking in the moment is so essential. It is unhealthy for us to fly through life building plaque in our arteries.  Still, we do it. Stay an extra hour at the office rather than get home to cook dinner. Curse at the person in front of us because we are late for a meeting and that sonofabitch can’t drive. Listen to half a track then skip to the next because we are bored thirty seconds in.

It wasn’t always this way. People once placed the needle on the record and let it play. No one raved about number five on Abbey Road. “Wouldn’t it be Nice” was not a destination, it was a part of a gorgeous whole- the kickoff to a masterpiece. You didn’t want to quit “Who’s Next” after track one. There was no track one. The album was the show. The medium news is that we are probably not going to return to an all vinyl world anytime soon. The good news is that this is America, so you can make that choice and have your musical needs fully sated the old fashioned way. And Jacksonville has a handful of options to meet those needs.

North Riverside

Jacksonville’s DJ’s Records on McDuff Avenue in North Riverside is a menagerie of hidden gems and dumpster juice- from “After the Gold Rush” and “Some Girls” to Deion Sanders and scratched up Salt N’ Pepa 45s. Stacks upon stacks of dusty records greet you with seemingly no rhyme or reason. Patience is a virtue at DJs. Only the diehard fan will find what she’s looking for; but it may be worth the effort. The aforementioned Neil Young classic fell into my hands at the end of a recent grazing session and I took the opportunity to get acquainted with Elvin Bishop and reunited with Joni Mitchell on the same day. DJ opened the place in the late 60s and has been open ever since- a testament to the longevity and universality of the medium. And true to the spirit of the slowing down and taking it back, DJ’s is a meeting place for the neighborhood with everyone being greeted as a best friend by the proprietor.

Downtown

Downtown has its own sweet spot with Budget Records. Attached to Burro Bags across from the tax collector’s office on Forsyth, Budget has a more organized collection than DJ’s, with used records segregated by genre and in alphabetical order. The records I have encountered there also seem to be in better condition than those found in North Riverside, the prices are right, and the selection is more than sufficiently diverse. I spied the sophomore effort from Timbaland and Magoo, a Bill Monroe record, and took home a four disc Benny Goodman compilation for $2.

Five Points

The idea that Five Points did not have a record store until December of 2012 is brain-on-the-walls confusing. Thankfully Deep Search Records filled that void at the end of last year. Named after the submarine in The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, Deep Search sells new and (some) used vinyl on Lomax Street in Five Points. The place is cool (more on that in a later post about their grand opening) and a welcome addition to Riverside/Five Points.

Records are not as convenient as digital downloads, but there is an authenticity to the sound that cannot be recreated on the computer. It is a warts-and-all experience- the kind that floridabout celebrates as a rule. Digital music and digital culture will continue to evolve, but it is no doubt here to stay for a while. And, while digital’s accessibility is welcomed in many contexts, we are fortunate that vinyl is not only still around, but has re-surged in a big way. But for that Sunday afternoon reading session, or to wind down after work with a glass of wine, slow down and let the record play.

Budget Records

Deep Search Records

Yesterday and Today Records (Jacksonville Beach)

Mangum Style

“He sounds like a black guy. You know what I mean when I say that?” I did. Victoria – who is black – was talking about Jeff Mangum’s impassioned wail. Dude sings his butt off, with a voice that comes from somewhere unseen, like he and his ancestors suffered hard and coped with said suffering through music. That soul shepherds an authenticity that drew diehards and new fans alike to Mangum’s recent outstanding show at the Florida Theater in Gainesville, FL.

The fact that there was a show at all is a minor miracle for fans of Jeff Mangum’s fifteen year old sonic orgasm, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. His band, Neutral Milk Hotel, broke up shortly after the album’s release, and Mangum largely disappeared from the public eye, but Aeroplane is one of those Big Lebowski-esque works that only gains momentum with time.

I came to the album in 2008, a full ten years after its release. I was living in Holland, and had been meaning to check it out for some time, when I learned that popular belief of Aeroplane held it to be a record about Anne Frank. Seek a message, and you shall find it. Living less than an hour from Anne Frank’s home in Amsterdam, I began to see In the Aeroplane Over the Sea everywhere I went. The lyrics took on a deeply personal dimension for me as I wrestled with being away from my family and friends- an isolation that gains perspective when juxtaposed with that of Anne Frank. It was a beautiful soundtrack for a beautiful time in my life- exactly as all great music should be.

I wasn’t the only one who came to hear Aeroplane. The crowd that was rowdy, almost rude during the opening act, was reduced to a hush that was violated only to quietly sing along with Mangum’s poignant lyrics. He played nearly all of his masterpiece, as well as some other fantastic tunes. Famously uncomfortable with fame, Mangum cast a shy presence throughout, stopping only to take a swig of water or tell us the name of the next song (as if we needed it). Despite his shyness, Jeff Mangum has the kind of magnetism that all true rockstars possess. We were glued to every note and imagery-laden lyric. It was the kind of show that you will tell your kids about- a reluctant legend returning to the stage after a long hiatus, in a venue that was exactly the right size for the act, with a crowd that relished every second.