Earlier this week Phish front man Trey Anastasio announced his first-ever orchestral tour, a four-show swing that is set to kick off on February 9 at the Atlanta Symphony Hall. Big Red isn’t a stranger to performing with symphonies and his two most recent orchestral gigs from 2009, May 21 with the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra and September 12 with the New York Philharmonic, have shown Trey’s willingness to dig deep into his solo and Phish repertoires for such events.

For this week’s B List I’ve prepared a list of ten songs I’d like to see Trey at one or many of the 2012 Winter Symphony Tour performances. Here’s what I came up with…

10. Dirt

Phish – Dirt

Considering how good of a job Anastasio and the symphonies did with If I Could at the 2009 gigs, a ballad is a fine fit for the orchestral setting. Dirt has plenty of room for the orchestras to work their magic behind Trey’s gentle vocals.

9. Limb By Limb

Phish – Limb By Limb

I’d like to see Trey and any of these orchestras tackle one of the many Phish songs written in 6/8 and I can just imagine what a symphony’s percussion and woodwinds section could do with this Anastasio/Herman/Marshall original.

8. It’s Ice

Phish – It’s Ice

The structure of It’s Ice makes it a perfect candidate for the symphony tour and I think for this one, I’d rather hear the strings or woodwinds interpret the lyrics rather than have Trey sing along. Hopefully the ensemble find a creative way to take advantage of the “jam.” The last time Trey toyed with the arrangement for It’s Ice, the 70VP “metal” version, he did so with rather impressive results.

PAGE TWO = Chapeau Mauvais, Rift > Curtain With > Rift and Scents

[Photo by Michael Wilson]

She’s a Brooklyn dweller, so it’s possible to see Scheinman many times in the five boroughs during the year and in a galaxy of different contexts, from her semi-regular gigs at Barbes in Park Slope, or at least once a year for an extended stretch at the Village Vanguard, or with Bill Frisell, Myra Melford, Robbie Fulks and a who’s who of other collaborators. One week she’ll be on the road with Bruce Cockburn or Rodney Crowell, and the next getting into it with Jason Moran. Or John Zorn. Or Norah Jones. You never know.

One of the most interesting projects Scheinman’s ever been a part of is Mischief & Mayhem, an adventurous quartet that positions her with bassist Todd Sickafoose, drummer Jim Black, and guitar wizard Nels Cline, best known — though certainly not only known — for his sideman role in Wilco.

The group first came together in 2007, has reunited several times since and will this year finally release an album, eponymously titled and cut during a two-day recording session in July 2010. It’s a deeply engrossing set of eight compositions, some expansive — the opener, A Ride With Polly Jean is a seductive, densely layered journey about, of all things, a fantasy about driving down the California coast with PJ Harvey — some more nebulous (Sand Dipper, Devil’s Ink), some antsy and aggressive, with rock drumming (Blues for the Double Vee, The Mite) and some delicate (July Tenth In Three Four).

The conversation between lead voices — Scheinman’s violin and Cline’s guitars — is expectedly climactic, but this is also, clearly, a groupthink album, with no one theme, voice, or vibe dominating for too long. And while things can get heavy, there’s always a subversive streak, too — this is a record with a tribute song called Ali Farka Touche, after all.

The group’s members are all plenty busy but they will reunite, Scheinman tells us, for another stretch of Village Vanguard dates likely this summer, and also play a CD release show at New York’s Le Poisson Rouge on Feb. 20. The album itself officially drops March 6.

In conversation, Scheinman is a lot like her music: thorough, intense and cerebral, with hints of whimsy and, well, mischief. She opened up to Hidden Track about Mischief & Mayhem and her next round of projects — including a particularly personal project due in May.

HIDDEN TRACK: Tell me about the first time you played with Nels. How long have you known each other?

JENNY SCHEINMAN: We’ve known each other since I think 1998. I had seen him play and I’d been introduced to him in a casual way. But we did a double bill in L.A. in 1999. It was after I had moved to New York but I still had a band in California with Scott Amendola, who had also played with him — that was the band I did my (2000) album Live at Yoshi’s with. We played in L.A., and we stayed at Nels’ house. He was a wonderful host and he loved our music, and he and I clicked personally right away. We did a band with Scott that was primarily Scott’s music and we toured that band in a van up and down the West Coast, it was great.

HT: So how did Mischief & Mayhem first come together?

JS: It was at Celebrate Brooklyn at the Prospect Park Bandshell in 2007. Well, actually, the first Mischief & Mayhem gig had been at Barbes in Brooklyn a few nights earlier. That was really fun. We totally blew the walls off that place, it’s smaller than the [Village] Vanguard. But I put it together because I was asked by the Celebrate Brooklyn people to do an instrumental set on that stage. My trend was instrumental music and jazz and that kind of thing, played in more intimate settings. I’m often not a fan of jazz in big outdoor type places — the sound travels, and you just don’t get to an intimate feeling. But they specifically asked for an instrumental set, so I thought, what is the group of musicians that I love that can project, and that is sort of exuberant and has a charisma that goes beyond the intrigue and intimacy and interaction of a small jazz setting?

So there was Nels, and the second person I came to was Jim Black, who I played with when I first moved to New York. I hadn’t played with him for a while but his playing is very…well, it keeps your interest. There are a lot of rock influences in it, some groove, and he’s dynamic in a way I thought would work on the big stage and captivate an audience and kind of go beyond the first 20 rows. Jim and Nels hadn’t played together before, but I think of them as very similar players: dutiful, but also passionate and sentimental and surprising. There’s always the thrill of risk for them, but they’re also groovy — there’s something about them that’s similar. Their energy is kind of similar — they both grin madly — and what’s what I wanted. They did click, really well.

Todd was somebody I’ve played with for a long time — also a friend from the West Coast. I met him around the same time I met Nels. He’s toured for many years with Ani DiFranco in many combinations, but one I remember that was really impressive was as a duo. He commanded a lot of energy and attention and has a real sort of arranger-composer head — he does way more than base, functional stuff. Anyway, that’s how it all came together.

HT: You play in a number of combinations and have played with a huge number of people and in a wide variety of settings, so I’m sure you’ve learned how to tell which projects will have longevity and which are just one-offs or temporary pursuits. What jumped out about Mischief & Mayhem?

JS: It is always such a wild guess. It’s like at a dinner party, or matchmaking. Musical chemistry isn’t all that far off from sexual chemistry, it’s sometimes surprising what works. I’ve had an opportunity to try so many different combinations as a player, but I’m often surprised which ones work and which ones don’t. It doesn’t always have to do with instruments, either — Mischief & Mayhem is a fairly standard group of instruments, other than the violin — and sometimes people just get off on each other even if the instruments aren’t standard. We did totally click. We immediately had a band vibe and we went on tour after that gig. We’ve played at the Vanguard for two weeks in each of the past two years, and it has developed. We have a bigger repertoire and the feeling of the band was basically clear immediately.

HT: Would you liken the chemistry here to any combination or any setting you’ve played in before?

JS: It’s probably the most similar to the group I did Live at Yoshi’s with. I don’t know, I’ve moved toward a beautiful, cinematic, chamber feel with all the elements I like, and less…well, my first record was live and it’s very much about the combined energy of the players. We had really electric moments, not electric in the sense we’re plugged in but moments where the energy sort of sparks. That was the thing about that band I was going for, where we were trying all sorts of stuff and there wasn’t as much room for arranged harmonies or obligatos or counterpoints. All my other records have at least a clarinet, or a trumpet or a piano. One of them had guitar and accordion. They got bigger and in a way they got more arranged for the players — clear songs and playing them as a band.

[Mischief & Mayhem] is basically a little rock band without a singer, as much as we do as improvising players. It’s fun. It’s been more than 10 years since that first record and I didn’t intend to return to that kind of record, but it’s part of a cycle in my own creative process to return to this kind of energy.

HT: When did it become clear you should make a Mischief & Mayhem record?

JS: I always have a million records in my head, but it became clear, I would say, about 70 seconds into the first gig [laughs]. I struggled with making a record, though, because my taste as a listener of records has definitely moved away from searching for peak moments. I want a record that pleases me more of the time and doesn’t necessarily sound like a live gig and people in a room having a party together. But this band by nature is in the name. We’re seeking mischief and mayhem.

HT: I hope so.

JS: Yeah. It’s a tricky thing to record, and it took a while to figure out how to do it. We recorded it a week after the Vanguard [run], the following Monday and Tuesday. There’s always a huge adjustment going from a small room and a big, enthused audience to the sterility of a studio, where things need to be a bit more isolated. With my instrument, I need to be isolated compared to the other ones — it’s a weak little thing compared to a drum and an electric guitar. But when you play live, you feel like there’s less effort because you can suck up so much energy from the audience. There’s that whole dynamic.

So it took a while to figure out what we had done, and we focused on the energy — these ecstatic moments in the energy and the music — but not enough so it felt like too much noise and too much chaos. This was definitely a trickier one; other records, I had very clearly in my head what I was going for. There are always surprises — I don’t really control musicians too much — but this one was more out of my control. It was challenging.

[Photo by Michael Wilson]

HT: Will you return to the Vanguard with Mischief & Mayhem this year too?

JS: We don’t have a date, but I have an open invitation to the Vanguard for two weeks. I’ve been doing those two weeks a year for a few years, this past year I did one with Mischief & Mayhem and then another with Bill Frisell and Brian Blade [in December]. Mischief & Mayhem seems to be falling right in the summer. It falls on what’s normally considered the most terrible week of the year but, I don’t know, hot and sweaty seem perfect for that band. It’s so extreme. That might just happen again.

HT: Tell me about that Bill Frisell-Brian Blade trio you did. You’ve been playing with Bill for ages, of course. Had you played much with Brian?

JS: I didn’t know Brian very well other than from records. We all have a connection being involved in improvised music — jazz if you want to call it that — but also to singing and being committed to that kind of music, too. He’s played with Emmylou Harris, and a lot of the Daniel Lanois productions, and worked with Lucinda Williams and with a lot of singers, some of them slightly jazzy but most of them a little bit more roots-oriented. We both have singing records as well. We thought that maybe Brian would sing a little and I would sing a little, and we ended up doing instrumentals. But there’s kind of a song fascination with all of us — fascination in concrete form and the content in a lyric, or a story. But I have played with BIll for maybe 15 years, and Brian, I had asked him to do a few things before and he’s extremely busy.

HT: Well, so are you, right?

JS: We are all just totally busy. It was originally going to be a Bill-and-me duo, and we’re going to do that at Newport this year — a duo show. But I thought about whether there was one more person I could add, and I woke up one morning with Brian Blade in my head. When you’re not really friends with someone it feels like a shot in the dark to ask. So I wrote him a polite, gentle letter asking if he’d do it, and he was totally down. He knew my music and it ended up being a wonderful week of friendship and funny, exciting music. I was totally in heaven. People are always different when you’re there playing with them instead of listening to them on record. As a bandleader your slight manipulation is that you have to pick repertoire to bring out the musicians’ parts you especially like. So I got my favorite Brian and my favorite Bill, which for Bill is totally unhinged and kind of rocking and funny, and for Brian is really groovy and surprising and dynamic.

HT: While I have you, what’s on your plate for the next couple of months?

JS: Well, I’m having a baby in May, so I’ll be very pregnant during the release party.

HT: Congratulations!

JS: Thank you. I’m taking the summer off mostly but I’ll be at Newport in August and then doing a bunch of stuff in the fall. My next recording is going to be a vocal recording. It’s material that I’ve toured a lot, and narrowed down quite a lot. It’s all originals this time around, and I just have to put together the team of players and all of the other things that go into a record. I might do some tracks solo. My other records are ensemble records, but I toured for two months last summer playing with Bruce Cockburn and opening for him solo. It worked out but I hadn’t been that scared to do something a while, and it was powerful in that it was really stripped down and bare. It’s also a convenient thing to do when I’m not as active with bigger ensembles.

JS: Sounds good. And this will be your second child, if I remember correctly? How old is your son now and more importantly, how musical is he?

HT: He’s two and a half. You know, I don’t push anything, but he plays drums to everything. He has a little drumset. I’m yet to the point of deciding whether I’m going to teach him discipline in music. That’s the key. I think a lot of kids are musical. The little guy’s pretty funny and social. We’ll see where that goes. He dances a lot and keeps a beat. He likes music.

RL: So, do you guys take into consideration where you are playing, as far as what songs you play?

Ryan: Yeah, when we were in L.A. we were like, “We’ve gotta do Guns-N-Roses (from Indiana) meets Motley Crue (from L.A.).” We did “Dr. Feelgood” into “Paradise City.”

Jake: L.A.’s the kind of town where you don’t want to play a lot of happier, hippier kind of stuff. You save that for San Francisco.

Ryan: But, if someone passes away or its someone’s birthday…

Jake: So, if you die, we will cover one of your songs.

Ryan: Well, we were in Seattle when they found Layne Staley, even though he had been dead for two weeks, so we played some Alice in Chains.

Brendan: And we gave out mad love to “Left Eye” Lopes, George Harrison, Waylon Jennings.

Ryan: Yeah, who’s next? We had a lot of people die on our last tour.

Brendan: People die though. If we had stayed home, they would have died too.

Joel: That’s true.

While Brendan is right, the artists certainly would have died had they stayed home – it is a bit eerie how the geography worked out as UM rolled into town for timely tributes to Nate Dogg (Los Angeles), Layne Staley (Seattle) and Owsley Stanley (San Francisco).

We’ve thrown together all the musical tributes for this week’s B List, complete with streaming audio embeds. For the later shows you can head over to umlive.net to purchase individual tracks for download – and for you musicians out there, maybe watch your step when UM comes next to your town.

1) George Harrison: Various

Download Here: 11/30/2001 – House of Blues – Chicago, IL

When George Harrison passed UM didn’t perform any one song in a musical tribute, but rather snippets of a number of appropriate passages. First they tagged the end of Roulette with the outro of The Beatles’ You Never Give Me Your Money and its appropriate lyrics, “1-2-3-4-5-6-7, all good children go to heaven.” At the end of the first set, Hurt Bird Bath had the end of another Harrison penned Beatles tune added on, this one the more well known Something.

Brendan worked the phrase “All Things Must Pass” twice into the lyrics of Hajimemashite, what would come to be a standard lyric in later years. And finally, Umphrey’s tackled the Beatles instrumental Flying, one of the few compositions credited to the entire band.

Roulette > You Never Give Me Your Money

Hurt Bird Bath > Something

Hajimemashite

Flying

2) Waylon Jennings: Good ‘ol Boys
2/17/2002 – 8×10 Club – Baltimore, MD

The first of several 2002 tributes came in the form of the song best known as the theme to the television program The Dukes of Hazard. Jennings not only penned the theme song but also filled the role of The Balladeer for the show. UM put Good Ol’ Boys in regular rotation starting in mid-2001 and the song has continued to be brought out ever since, despite the occasional year(s)-long gap between plays.

3) Layne Staley: Got Me Wrong

Download Here: 4/21/2002 – Tractor Tavern – Seattle, WA

The lead singer of Alice in Chains actually died on April 5 but wasn’t found in his Seattle home until April 19. Umphrey’s happened to be in Seattle making this tribute especially poignant. The band had been playing the song fairly regularly to that point but would only play it twice more that year before shelving it for good.

4) Lisa Lopes: Waterfalls

Download Here: 4/26/2002 – The Barrymore – Madison, WI

Just five days later back in the Midwest at the Barrymore, UM was honoring Lisa “Left Eye” Lopes of the R&B group TLC, who died the previous day. The song dates back to the early Notre Dame years of the band, more often than not appearing in a jam during Front Porch.  It was soon dropped after this version making it into only one more 2002 Front Porch. It was dropped into Front Porch last year on September 9 during the first encore at the Brooklyn Bowl in New York City.

PAGE TWO = John Entwistle, Rick James and More

[Photo by Caroline Desilets]

Taking their latest standout album, The End of That, as case in point, Plants and Animals take sharp sonic turns from track to track, embraces instrumental experimentation, writes concise and distinctive songs, and pull from endless musical references. It’s a gratifying album if for no other reason than to explore the diverse set of music you hear sourced (I thought of Ray LaMontange, Wilco, Built to Spill, Lou Reed, and Matthew Sweet in that order).

Gearing up for the February 28th release of The End of That, we spoke with guitarist and vocalist Warren C. Spicer to chat about the more approach they took in prepping material for the new album, their thoughts on all these references people associate with them, and art of balancing between improvisation and song.

Hidden Track: Getting started with the record, it seemed like a big part of the direction this time around was based on the preparation element. I wondered how important you think it is to go into the studio knowing what you want to do as opposed to what you did last time, which was a little more by the seat of your pants? How does that impact the way things come out and how you play things?

Warren C. Spicer: Well, I think it depends on the song. There are times when certain songs need a lot of work and time to reflect on, so you go in and work on it a little bit and you walk away, step back listen to it, and reflect on it. Then there are other songs that are better off if you barely touch them and you just jump into them in the studio and let them play themselves. Sometimes it’s hard to know which ones are which, but in a way you kind of know. The more complicated ones tend to need a little more thinking.

For what we did this time, it was way more prepared, and it was also just interesting to develop a bunch of material and not really have any idea which songs were actually going to be on the record. In fact, we didn’t even think of it in terms of writing an album. We worked over the course of the whole winter developing whatever it was we developed. We did some pretty far-fetched stuff, and stuff we knew was crazy, because we knew there were no consequences. We weren’t in a studio and we weren’t spending a bunch of money. We were just going to have fun and demo pretty much anything we wanted to. In that way, the process was really fun. Then you get in the studio and file it down a bit, but I think in the future we’ll probably work more in that way.

We had some success in the past the other way, going into the studio not really knowing what we’re doing. You know, just going in and having things fall together, but it’s a little bit too much of a gamble. You might come out with one or two things that are really good, but overall we’re the kind of band that fares a lot better if we actually work on stuff a lot.

HT: Were there some parts of this one that were not prepared or improvised that you thought came out particularly cool?

WS: Yeah for sure,  like The End of That, the song. That was the first time we’d ever really played it. It was like, “Hey, let’s do this song,” and Nick, the other guitar player and his girlfiend were both at the studio, and they came in and sang backups and danced around.  The guy who owns the studio was upstairs making a sandwich or something and yelled at him to come down, and he played bass. So we did like two takes and that was the end of that.

Somehow that spirit gets infused in the performance when that happens, because it’s not something where we did twenty takes or listen to a metronome to figure out if it it’s too fast or too slow. We just played the song. I think there are certain songs that are going to react a little better to that than others.

HT: Curious, how do you keep in check in the sense that you guys have the abilities to stretch out the instrumental elements but balance it out and often keep things concise? How do you find the right balance there?

WS: That’s a good question. I guess it’s a choice, really. I think you find the moments where you can stretch out. It’s part of the band and something we enjoy doing. We have that choice. Were definitely not just a band that has specific parts and everyone plays their parts. We do that too, but we kind of work around them and the parts tend to be different each time.

Again, it depends on the song. You listen back and think about what kind of approach you want to take; if you want to tighten up or loosen it. You kind of approach it differently with each song. We’ve been working on a bunch of new stuff since this record has been finished and it tends to start a lot bigger where you jam out an idea for 15 minutes. Then you go in and try to find the parts that make sense.

It’s almost too bad we can’t make more records faster or more often, because it’d be cool to make some really far out records and go a little bit more wild [laughs].

HT: So, I read a review for Parc Avenue that referenced Ryan Adams, Neil Young, Phish, Coldplay, the Polyphonic Spree, and Blitzen Trapper. Curious, of those bands, would you say you identify with most, or even any of them?

WS: Yeah for sure, some of them, absolutely. I think it’s a pretty good mish mash of pop, rock, and folk. Nowadays, there are really so many places to pull references. Polyphonic Spree is a band I’ve never even really listened to, but yet you’re in a band and you work on stuff and it ends up getting referenced by something you’ve never even heard before.

You read that often with musicians where someone is like, “You sound like this,” and they’ll say that’s weird, we’ve never listened to that band. I think that’s probably the case for a lot of people, because everything is so tightly interwoven musically now that no matter what you do, you’re going to end up sounding like something. It’s pretty hard to come out of the box and be unrelated to anything else. But yeah, on that list, we’re somewhere in there [laughs].

HT: So, it’s not very Canadian of you to only have three people in the band. How would you say having the trio core benefits you guys?

WS: Well, it’s just kind of the way we started. We have been touring with a bass player though, so we’ve opened up the live show. It’s a full four people, which has really changed things massively. I think in the studio, it’s fine. I mean, you can be one person in the studio and make an insane record, you know? Look at Stevie Wonder, he goes in and his record comes out and it’s called Stevie Wonder: Songs in the Key of Life. Obviously, there is more than just Stevie Wonder on there, and however he decides to pull that off live, you don’t really know. We did that. We went in there with three people with the production ideas and the songs in our head, not limited to three people, but we did it. And then we toured with just the three of us, and we didn’t really reproduce things. We just did the songs.

It really stretched our abilities. After working on this record, we were kind of saying in hushed voices, “Maybe we should get a bass player?” [laughs] We just happened to have the right guy, who is a pretty good friend of ours. Between me and Nick, we were trying to hold down a lot of the low end with the guitars and various devices, and trying to deal with it, but it was getting to the point where there was too much going on. It just didn’t groove in the same way.

It’s especially nice to concentrate on the singing. It’s so much easier to sing now without having to worry about if things are full enough in the low end. It makes it way easier.

HT: In terms of gear, how complicated do you guys get?

WS: It’s pretty simple really. Me and Nick, we just have two amps that we take out. One is a big high powered really clean amp with tons of low end and one is a smaller kind of old vintage tube. The big one is basically just to have on stage. It’s not really for any tonal qualities, just for that feeling of hitting a chord that moves you. You know, not necessarily being loud in the audience, but where you can actually feel the weight and the air being pushed. It’s really not complicated at all, just two amps and a couple pedals. It’s actually getting simpler and simpler, especially with the bass player.

HT: Would you say any of the songs mean a lot to you in particular?

WS: That’s hard, becuase they were all recorded back to back in a pretty limited amount of time, so they all feel very intertwined. Crisis was kind of a funny one. It’s such a weird song and takes such strange turns. It starts in such a weird place and ends in another dimension. It was kind of an exciting one to put together. I’m kind of happy with it for reasons other people will not care for, but it’s one of those things that when you make it, it was entertaining and surprising when it all came together. It’s a very strange song [laughs].

HT: Curious, how do you approach melodies in general. It seems like you guys tend to take thing in clever, less obvious directions?

WS: It usually just gets established early on before we have lyrics. So, we I just sing gibberish and the rhythm of the melody is pretty firm. I normally don’t try to be particularly crafty in that area, and it’s almost always a gut reaction what ends up sticking.

HT: Just one last question: In terms of venues, what are some of you all-time favorites to play?

WS: Hmmmm, what are some good ones? We just played Schuba’s in Chicago. We’ve played there a few times and it has a really nice vibe. My mind always goes blank on these kind of things. Oh, good gravy, I can’t remember any of the names [pauses]. Oh good, Nick is here. Hey Nick, what’s a great venue? Ah yes, the Paradiso in Amsterdam is amazing. There’s a lot of amazing ones, but I guess they are not that amazing, because I can’t remember any of their names [laughs].

“Delicate” can be a dirty word; a few shades in the wrong direction and your sound is too quaint, or too cutesy, or too precious, or too twee, or so ethereal as to be vapor. So you have to hand it to Joy Williams and John Paul White, the singing, strumming duo that comprise The Civil Wars. They lean delicate and almost effortlessly find that sweet spot where gentle meets rich, holding steady in that spot with a combination of slightly mischievous personality, rock-solid chemistry, sturdy songwriting and that most reliable of musician crowd-slayers: the unimpeachably beautiful male-female vocal harmony.

I mean, wow. You hear these two flex their voices over song after song of longing – sometimes defiant, sometimes pensive, sometimes tragic – and your mind melts away into their narratives, hooked to every vocal cadence and gently nudged by the strum of White’s guitar or, on occasion, the twinkle of Williams’ keyboard.

They earned due acclaim for 2011’s Barton Hollow and its best-known song Poison and Wine, but live the experience goes well beyond a pleasant singer-songwriter listen with admirable depth. So it was when I found myself in Austin, shoulder to shoulder with a rapt and definitely sold-out crowd at the historic Paramount Theatre, watching this magic transpire. We were eating out of their hands by the second song, and through about 90 minutes and the duo’s stock setlist of Barton Hollow tunes and a cover or three, we were transported. It helps that Williams and White don’t take themselves too seriously – they were game for a couple of Freebird jokes and some raunchy ribbing – and you get the sense they enjoy doing this as a performing folk duo playing to kindly lubricated club and theater crowds, not as performance artists doing recital in a concert hall.

Tight as their harmonies and gentle arrangements are, they’re loose and relaxed as performers. They have fun. They keep selling what they do, long after you’ve bought in, knowing you can always listen deeper. If there’s a drawback it’s that their originals tend to blend together with similar themes. After a few in a row you’re conditioned to the denseness of the harmonies with the acoustic accompaniment, so that when they toss in a variable – White switched to electric guitar about halfway through the set – it’s a jolt. But what an absorbing, nourishing show: full readings of all the Barton material, and the duo’s customary covers of Smashing Pumpkins (Disarm – whoa), Leonard Cohen (Dance Me to the End of Love – well chosen) and Michael Jackson (Billie Jean – too gimmicky for my palate).

The Civil Wars – Disarm

The opening act doesn’t have to be part of the fullness of any great concert, but it certainly helps, and in this case, it was another preternaturally talented harmony group you’re going to be hearing a lot about this year: The Staves. Three lovely ladies – sisters, no less — from Watford, U.K., covering three distinct harmony layers and drawing on a wealth of folk heritage to arrive at a vibe somewhere between the Indigo Girls, Joni Mitchell, Laurel Canyon, and the brittle, more tragic-sounding strains of chilly English folk. Though leavened by warmth, their songs are a bit dreamier than the Civil Wars’, and often darker. They have an album on the way – said to be produced by father-and-son Glyn and Ethan Johns – but standout songs like Icarus and Mexico don’t need any more fleshing out. Guitar and ukulele were there to group the rhythms; the voices carry the whole thing like conjurers from a far off place.

On December 30 and 31, Michigan’s Greensky Bluegrass celebrated New Year’s at the Majestic Theater in Detroit. Although Greensky is still considered an up-and-coming act, this was no local party for friends and family. Rather, Greensky managed to turn Detroit into a destination for NYE 2011-2012 as fans had traveled from far and wide – even internationally – to ring in the New Year with a band whose gift for psychedelic improvisation and timeless originals is rivaled only by their reputation for throwing one helluva party.

[All Photos by Andrew Bender]

December 30

Opening both nights were The Macpodz out of neighboring Ann Arbor; and as in prior opening performances for Umphrey’s McGee and moe., they showed an amazing ability to kick off the party. Combining aspects of funk, jazz, rock, disco and various forms of infectious musical weirdness, the Macpodz eschew the usual guitar-driven jams for the danceable orchestration of keys and trumpet, percussion and bass.

The first night’s performance took place in the neighboring Magic Stick bar; half-way into the Macpodz hour long set, the 300+ capacity venue was already getting full in anticipation of the weekend’s headlining act. Greensky Bluegrass took the stage on December 30th to a smaller audience than they would play to the next night. Nevertheless, the Greensky diehards making up the bulk of the audience were treated to a truly blazing performance.

Opening with No Idea off of their newest studio album Handguns, Greensky displayed their blend of vocal harmonies, masterful arrangements and solid improvisational chops as they showcased both old and new originals. Mustachioed guitarist Dave Bruzza was sporting a new haircut, and even looked downright respectable, but his vocals and 6-string playing were as reliably down and dirty as ever.

In celebration of folk/bluegrass legend John Hartford’s birthday, Bruzza took lead vocal duties on cover of Steam Powered Airplane that led into a scorching cover of Bruce Hornsby’s King of the Hill that easily ranks among the best Greensky performances of that song to date. That song prominently featured Greensky’s ability to layer instruments while simultaneously alternating lead and rhythm parts in their jams. King of the Hill followed an oft-used format with the song’s final verse neatly wrapping up the song after an incredibly hot improvisational jam. Other highlights from the first night included blistering covers of Rod Stewart’s Young Turks and Reba McEntire’s Can’t Stop Now that had the entire room grooving hard with a sense of abandon that only the last weekend of year can bring. Closing out the second set was a cover of the Beatles’ She Came In Through The Bathroom Window that only further fueled anticipation for the next night.

December 31

A quick review of the Hidden Track guide to New Year’s Eve events nationwide revealed the Greensky Bluegrass show in Detroit as the only HT endorsed NYE event in the state of Michigan. Saturday night saw a large crowd ready for a throw down, although a number of concertgoers appeared less familiar with Greensky much less Bluegrass.

Greensky launched their NYE set with a cover of Bob Dylan’s When I Paint My Masterpiece remade into a Greesnky number courtesy of Bruzza’s raspy vocals and Beck’s ever-inspiring drop steel. Original numbers Wheel Hoss and Jaywalking followed with Hoffman on lead vocals; although not given an expansive improvisation treatment Jaywalking was well played, nonetheless as the Bruzza and Hoffman gears meshed in perfect synchrony. Hoffman also led vocals on a cover of Paul Simon’s Gumboots with a bit faster tempo than usual, albeit not quite up to the pace of the original. Bruzza’s 6-string and Devol’s bass kept perfect rhythm to Bont’s forceful yet complex banjo playing and Hoffman’s alternating strummed rhythm and plucked lead; Beck’s increasingly characteristic dobro lead was as difficult to pin down as a greased pig, and even more entertaining.

After a slower, more somber toned Bottle Dry, Greensky covered Duran Duran’s ’80s pop tune Hungry Like The Wolf. The song’s pop irony didn’t appear to register with many in the audience, or at least not with those younger than 30. And truth be told, that’s just the way that Greensky seems to prefer it, as many of their covers are lesser-known numbers that were never radio singles. In this way Greensky pays tribute to gifted songwriting with outstanding pop sensibilities while crafting their own unique blend of bluegrass madness.

Bont’s banjo, Beck’s effect-laden dobro, and Hoffman’s mandolin weave a seamless psychedelic tapestry of sound, all made truly danceable by Devol’s powerful bass lines and Bruzza’s crisp and efficient rhythm guitar. Weaned on the likes of the Grateful Dead and Phish, these seminal influences are clearly reflected in their jamming and improvisational style as they explore sound, noise, and space – but to do that in the context of freaking Hungry Like The Wolf is indeed remarkable. Despite the fact the song holds little more than novelty nostalgia value for this thirty-something, that is one track worthy of repeated listening.

Greensky Bluegrass – Hungry Like The Wolf

Original numbers 200 Miles to Montana and Don’t Lie followed with the latter providing another insane jam; Beck’s dobro lead in combination with the others’ driving but intricate rhythms compelled heads to bob and limbs to flail about in drunken New Years Eve abandon. After Hoffman announced to the audience that, “The midnight hour is close at hand,” the band closed the first set with a cover of Wilson Pickett’s In The Midnight Hour as Bruzza belted out the song backed by his bandmates as well as The Macpodz’ Jesse Clayton on keys and Ross Huff on trumpet.

Greensky Bluegrass – In The Midnight Hour

Coming back on stage with less than ten minutes until the stroke of midnight, Paul Hoffman led a rousing cover of the Isley Brothers’ Shout, still accompanied by Macpodz Huff and Clayton, whose contributions elevated the song far beyond bluegrass or soul. The song reached its crescendo as Hoffman and Co. sang, “a little bit louder now” perfectly at the stroke of midnight and balloons dropped into the celebration. Then, without missing a beat, the band broke into Smokey Robinson’s I Second That Emotion as couples danced and kissed, balloons bounced and popped, and the Motor City was introduced to a whole new take on the old school soul and R&B originally recorded just a few miles away.

To top that off, Greensky simply proceeded to tear the hell out their own songbook of original numbers including the epic and stirring All Four that features Hoffman’s impressive songwriting, “All my options are becoming fences, none of which include a gate.” Pig In A Pen, I’d Probably Kill You and How Far I’d Fall featured striking banjo work by Bont in tandem with alternating solos by Beck and Hoffman. Bassist Devol sang How Far I’d Fall leading one to hope for more by him in addition to his always steady, heavy bass lines. At one point during the second set, Hoffman observed that a pair of panties on the stage was a clear indication of a raging party.

Closing the set with the newer song Kerosene, sung by Bruzza, maintained the frenetic energy of the entire night and left the audience screaming for more. The encore brought another surprise as Hoffman sang lead on a cover of Bill Withers’ Ain’t No Sunshine whose soulfulness highlighted the “blue” in bluegrass. And what better way to show the Motor City some love but an intense cover of Prince’s Little Red Corvette, that had the entire Majestic Theater going all-out berserk.

The final song of the evening, the instrumental number Shucking The Corn, featured all five musicians and closed the party with a final sucker punch, bluegrass-style. Even though some in attendance may not have been hip to Greensky at the outset, their enthusiasm was readily apparent as the room was packed until the band called it quits shortly after 1:30. And after the smoke cleared, the mental fog lifts, and downing some ibuprofen, coffee, and hair o’ the dog it was all apparent – the Greensky Bluegrass run in Detroit was one of the hottest New Years Eve performances the Motor City has seen in recent years.

12/31/2011 Setlist

Set 1: When I Paint My Masterpiece, Wheel Hoss, Jaywalking > Gumboots, Bottle Dry, Hungry Like The Wolf, 200 Miles from Montana, Don’t Lie, In The Midnight Hour*

Set 2: Shout*, Second That Emotion*, All Four, Pig In A Pen, I’d Probably Kill You > How Far I’d Fall, Tarpology, What’s Left Of The Night, The Reverend, Kerosene

Encore: Ain’t No Sunshine, Little Red Corvette, Shuckin The Corn

The old wizard turned away from his creation, and vanished beyond the veil of illusion. One wonders if the world would ever see him again, let alone have any sort of real discourse about his hidden knowledge. As he glanced back one last time in the darkness, there was a bemused sparkling look in his eyes.

John Boorman’s Excalibur came out 30 years ago in 1981. As one previews the current onslaught of action hero films based predominantly on Marvel Comic adaptations, one is apt to look back at the legends of old, especially as this is being written on Memorial Day, a day when our culture celebrates our fallen heroes—in and out of battle.

Excalibur is an excellent feast for the eyes—the battle sequences are superb, and the scenery is both rugged and beautiful—and the ears—the soundtrack is a combination of classic pieces culled from the archives of some of the legendary musical figures of our past, and newer motifs written by Trevor Jones. Excalibur faired well with film goers 30 years ago, but its selection here is more so because of its quest for hidden knowledge, that which can bond and unite a nation, and give it purpose, as well.

Therefore, we extend a warm salute to a film about a hero named Arthur, his wife, Guinevere, his not-so-loyal knight, Lancelot, a wizard named Merlin, and a sword called Excalbur in this edition of Hidden Flick, John Boorman’s classic take on a legendary tale.

Perhaps, a bit of background before we conclude our study of Arthurian legend with some final comments on this pursuit of hidden knowledge, or hidden magic in a great time of transition between the chivalric and Renaissance eras in Boorman’s Excalibur.

The story of Arthur was a myth whose time had come. The ‘real’ Arthur was possibly a Roman garrison commander, circa 470 to 420 A.D. The legendary Arthur is slated at 12^th to 13^th century A.D. In the movement of eras, he is also transformed from empirical servant to a mighty king and ruler. This chosen one, perhaps even a Welsh cavalry general named Artorius, remains unclear to this day. Was he indeed Welsh, or, as believed, Roman? Or, a king’s associate from the 5^th century?

Regardless, it appears that he was a great military campaigner who was unable to repel the pesky, barbaric Goths in Burgundy. The historical Arthur was, like the legendary figure, apparently duped by a loyal follower—Lancelot betrayed Arthur by his liaison with Guinevere, Arthur’s wife. The overdramatization of the betrayal of our Arthurian hero indicates another similar trait. The Romans never latched on to the chivalric ideals that would blossom in the 12^th to 14^th centuries. Nevertheless, the historical and legendary aspects of both myth and alleged fact share a common empirical lust.

Whether it be the Caesar figure for almighty omniscience and power, or the Excalibur sword, brought forth and offered by the Lady of the Lake to the wizard and seer, Merlin,  who would offer the fateful words to Arthur, not only in the legendary tale, but in Boorman’s film, that Arthur was destined to be at One with the Land, meaning that his entire existence was tied to the well-being of his kingdom, the people, and the land where they dwelled…so it is foreseen, so it will be done…the Excalibur sword was brought forth to guarantee Arthur’s might, and these two cultures viewed life as a struggle full of risks, conquest, and, ultimately, self-righteousness.

Rome sought space allocation and commercial strongholds. The Britannia of the Dark Ages and the legendary Arthurian era, which is captured in the myth and cinematic tableaux drawn by Boorman, was striving for moral cleansing while spreading its language, doctrines, beliefs, and might. Arthur was, perhaps, again, Caesar reborn, but he had no equal. Lancelot could not match up with the virtuous Arthur. Furthermore, it is interesting that the Excalibur sword is used by a burgeoning nation as a symbol of power, a very Roman feature which carries over the philosophy of good conquering evil.

More to the point, ancient empirical Rome and latter-day medieval Britannia had their collective hands full vanquishing encroaching alleged evil barbarians. In Rome, these advancing hordes eventually sapped the power of the once great empire. In romanticized Arthurian times of myth and legend, the evil and corruption are within the kingdom itself. It is in its very nature, the ultimate symbol of historical Arthur—external, probing, insistent enemies. This contrasts with Sir Thomas Malory’s 1485 version of Arthur, in which the rotting of the Round Table—filled with knights sworn to service to their King Arthur—is an internal process fueled by infighting and responsibility conflicts. Should Lancelot be loyal to his king, or to his true love to Guinevere? How can Arthur run a country when he cannot control his own home, let alone himself?

The dichotomy of the historical Arthur—allegedly a great Welsh warrior, or maybe, a powerful Dark Ages Britannia king—would echo into the future of a soon-to-be budding British empire. Whether or not Arthur was of Roman, Welsh, or early Britannia stripes, one wonders if, possibly, that is missing the mark. The time of chivalry, romantic love, and unshakeable loyalty to one’s cause had come in the 12^th to the 14^th century. Heroes would be bred and foisted onto a public who clamored for meaning in a world previously hollow and loveless. Again, one also wonders if the only truth in this life is that the more things change, the more they remain the same. The choice, one ponders, is yours.

In Boorman’s film of the Arthurian legend, Merlin offers a sword to the Chosen One, and Arthur becomes that very leader that is either sought or rejected depending upon one’s point of view. Suffice to say, that Boorman does a rather powerful job of not only exposing the humanity inside Arthur’s mythic interior soul, but his external actions, as well. Perhaps, a leader always needs a strangely astute wizard next to one’s shadow. Indeed, who is the Magic Man of yore? Is it Merlin, the man with supernatural visions and power, a power that seemed to fade away as the Dark Ages led to the Renaissance era, or was it Arthur, who contained the one secret hidden bit of magic that all souls appear to seek? In the end, it is not our minds that fail us, but our hearts. Alas, we return to the darkness from whence we came.

Had he even existed? Or, was this Charismatic Guru in our imagination? Bread crumbs in the forest to another peak, another deep look inside what makes magic, and what makes something worth seeing in a strange and secret place? Is it a place one goes to escape time? Or, was it to find hidden magic in the forest of lost truth?

- Randy Ray

• Excalibur: Amazon / NetFlix
• Previously on Hidden Flick: Intermission Parts IV & V

To close out 2011, Phish returned to Madison Square Garden for a quickly sold-out set of four shows. Given that you are reading this column on this particular site, you are probably well aware of that fact as Hidden Track has been known to be partial to the boys from Vermont and may have written a few stories about the jamband poster-boys over the last few years. Unlike this fine section of the Web, the mainstream musical press tends to treat Phish, their penchant for selling out arenas on multiple dates and ability to anchor their own festivals with a bemused sense of admiration. They acknowledge the band’s accomplishments while condescendingly mocking its underpinnings. In a world where the music industry seems to have lost its ability to relate to its consumers, what does Phish do that no other band seems capable of doing and why can’t they seem to get any respect outside of its wide circle of friends?

[All Photos by Rob Chapman]

More than most bands, Phish fans draw sustenance from the camaraderie of their brethren, whether at the arena or sitting at home. It’s this devotion that elicits much of the mockery from Williamsburg and other non-Phish loving quarters. Attempts of fans to “review” any show or describe the experience aren’t helping matters…or advancing the field of music criticism. For any band that changes their set list on a daily basis, reviewing a single show tends to have the same effect of describing a snowstorm by writing about one of its snowflakes.

The fact that it’s not a fruitful endeavor doesn’t stop people from trying. If you scour the Internet, for every insightful and objective review of a Phish show, there are fifty that amount to nothing more than glorified diary entries, filled with self-referential dialogue and comparisons of the You Enjoy Myself from that night with another one the writer heard eight years ago. These types of reviews are fine if you happen to know the person, completely useless if they’re a stranger. You never quite hear Deerhunter fans talking about shows in this manner. Then again, when have you ever seen two Deerhunter fans violate the hipster code and talk to each other at a show?

Phish’s fervent following draws inevitable comparisons to that of the Grateful Dead, another band that befuddled the mainstream press. However, it’s rare to find those that followed Jerry Garcia in his prime that savor or foster the association and there’s little intersection between the two fanbases. Where Dead fans skewed towards the inclusive, Phish fans tend to tip towards the exclusive: mention a Run Like An Antelope you saw in Colorado and it’s more likely someone will tell you of a BETTER one they saw in California rather than say “cool.” Subtle differences over egalitarianism aside, those that come to Phish shows find themselves surrounded by people that understand the concert experience. Whether it’s your seat or not, there’s room for everybody (and given the number of people that like the shuffle around to sit with their friends, there usually is room for everybody) and the communal sharing and levels of trust amongst strangers would put Baby Boomers to shame. To a person, Phish fans enjoy the music with an unparalleled enthusiasm. If you don’t think the crowd affects how you walk away from a show, you’ve never been part of a truly exceptional audience.

What prompts this response could probably be traced to the essence of what draws anyone to a specific band or a certain musician. Only cyborgs and WASPs have gone through life without having the experience where a certain chorus, guitar solo, rhythm or melody grabs something in their soul and won’t let go. It can manifest itself in the simple focused head bob or, if alone, a full-blown air guitar freakout or Rerun-quality dance steps.

Like a Na’vi bonding with another entity through their Rasta dreads, once this simpatico is established, it’s pretty much a lifelong bond and the feeling is always susceptible to repetition upon demand. When put into the Phish context, cynics would point out that it’s just a reaction to the drugs. (Presumably, without drugs, Phish fans would be more inclined to Michael Buble or Clap Your Hands Say Yeah). Those cynics may not be wrong; drugs surely do not weaken the connection nor lessen the chances of reviving that rush. What draws all these people to Phish is the band’s ability to consistently deliver this feeling to their fans on a reliable basis. When you hear someone talk about it being a bad show, they likely aren’t talking about the musicianship or the songs, they’re talking about the lack of that connection during the show. When Phish fans staged a mini-uprising after Trey Anastasio released Shine, the howl had as much as to do with the music’s ability to establish that connection as it did with the fact that it wasn’t a Phish album.

Even the most amateur psychoanalyst could dissertate on the attachments anyone has for the music of their youth and it would not be a losing wager to gamble that 95% of the sold-out crowd at Madison Square Garden or any other show equates Phish’s music with their younger days, regardless of when they occurred. Ultimately, what makes the relationship between Phish and their fans a sustainable success is that, when not on hiatus, Phish has no qualms about playing the songs their fans love, regardless of their shelf life. If you think that’s just common sense, think back to Kurt Cobain’s abject refusal to play Smells Like Teen Spirit for those who might have enjoyed hearing it. For music cognoscenti, embracing the past, much less succeeding by revisiting it, offends their natural instincts to see music pushed forward and break new ground. With periodic new albums and fresh material, no one could credibly accuse Phish of getting lost in the attics of their vast catalog. By not forgetting that their music possesses meaning for those who listen to it, Phish refuses to neglect the connection they’ve established with their fans. By not unseemly exploiting the relationship, they assure that the connection will last.

[Photo by Michael Stein]

Now, let me say something and be very clear: there is absolutely no place in the universe I’d rather be than at a Phish show. The vibe, the ENERGY, the people, the ritual are all things I live for and have toured the country to experience for many years. But, sometimes expectations exceed the performance, which seemingly happened this past week for many in attendance (and some watching at home, as the shows were broadcast live via pay-per-view streams). Were there standout moments? Absolutely! The problem was, they were far less frequent than we have come to expect from Phish, on New Year’s runs, and especially at Madison Square Garden. But, on the flip side, did I enjoy these shows as much as many other barnburners of 2011 and years past? Definitely. Just for different reasons than the music alone.

One’s experience at a show depends on several factors including who you are with, the location of your seats, what you possibly ingested and so on. All of those factors play into the overall experience. But it is the music that is ultimately the catalyst which allows for us to enter the portal of the divine. The single biggest reason, besides seeing friends of old this run, that I thoroughly enjoyed myself is easy to explain. It seemed that everywhere I turned, even during a weird song placement or sloppy version of a song I had seen live 100 times, I watched the newer groups of fans soaking it all in and enjoying it tenfold. That – made me smile. To be able to hear the song you came to see – whether it be Farmhouse or Ghost – and rock out in your own world for the first time is a priceless experience. But, that still doesn’t hide the fact that the band members’ hearts didn’t fully seem into it this year.

The 28th saw the first-ever Free opener in Phish History and a with a well-played version of Glide right behind it, the band set the tone for a very high energy night. An early first set Cities was the first true highlight, with bassist Mike Gordon leading the way out of the typical space. But, it was simple things like the mid-first set placement of Contact (which is usually reserved for late second set and more typically encore slot), that summed up a majority of the entire stand: weird. Whether it was placement, execution or reeling in the potential for greatness, the band was playing things safe and hardly pushing the envelope.

Official Video: Contact > Sample

A scorching Birds of a Feather, Carini > Tweezer onslaught began set two of the first show, while a fiery Rock-n-Roll and majestic Harry Hood rounded out the meat of the set. To further set the “weird” mood for the remainder, the band offered up a triple encore of a short Tube, Rocky Top and Tweezer Reprise. Overall, a pretty solid opening frame on a night that often served as a warm up show for the band. The problem was, they did little from here to build on it, and by the time the run was over, many fans were calling the 28th the best overall show of the four.

The 29th opened with a great first frame – more high energy and in my eyes, a great setlist. A second song You Enjoy Myself again seemed out of place, but was a welcome treat by fans and garnered “Ooh’s” and “Ahh’s” from the fans when it started. An absolutely scorching Funky Bitch was a set highlight, with Page McConnell absolutely wreaking havoc on the upper parts of his keys. Roses are Free was another welcome treat, as Halley’s Comet and Run Like an Antelope closed out one of the better sets of the week, and carried over some of the higher energy from the previous night.

[Photo by Michael Stein]

The second set was notable for the Crosseyed & Painless opener before a slightly out of left-field Simple, which melted sublimely into the first Lifeboy in two years, also last played during the 2009 New Year’s run in Miami. A ferocious Mike’s Song, one of my favorite in recent memory, awkwardly landed in Chalkdust Torture, before transitioning into a faster-paced, more upbeat version of the normal soft-as-a-down-pillow-landing-pad of I am Hydrogen. A truly unique segue that will stand out in the memory of those who saw it live led the way to a funky, driving Weekapaug Groove, Character Zero and Loving Cup encore to close us out in arena rocking style. All in all, at this point of the run I still had some high hopes for the final two performances, having found ENERGY and some interesting ideas and efforts, if not execution, from the band through the first two nights.

PAGE TWO = 12/30 and 12/31

Inevitably, during our various existential journeys, we seek another earth, another space to explore, we wander amidst the gloom, and ponder it all, and face the reality that some one, some thing, controls our fate. The prospects of what we want to be are somehow always clouded by the ghosts of what we were, right? To change all of that is to see the world through a child’s eyes, a kid-like point of view, eh?

Talihina Sky. Kings of Leon. Final edition—#15, 75 in total—of season 5.

The documentary appears so innocent at first, even in light of the current drunken events which have played out as the band has seemingly imploded due to the abnormal rigors of success and the ever-dangerous life spent on the road, traversing from clubs to big marquee gigs in arenas and, gasp, stadiums. Yes, they may be back, even before Oasis, but does anyone venture to hold their breath? Watch this film, and decide for yourself.

I first saw the quartet in a small theatre several years back, and one could see and hear and feel the passion coming forth from the stage. What was ironic was that I stated in a show review, for either a site or a magazine, I don’t recall, and who really cares, that I felt the band was ready for bigger and more expansive venues. I didn’t really know how that would happen, and no one was more surprised than me that it really DID happen—the Kings of Leon became an arena rock staple, while garnering a fairly large fan base.

Enter Talihina Sky, a film made in almost a glorified home movie way at first glance. And, yet, there is something even more powerful going on here. The piece mixes footage of the Kings of Leon on and off the road and back home with a story of three brothers and one cousin and one band that reaches the peak of their little existence, and gazes down into the abyss, while also looking back into their past in Oklahoma and Tennessee.

Click here to view the embedded video.

The documentary, premiered at the 2011 Tribeca Film Festival, and helmed by first-time director Stephen C. Mitchell, does an admirable job of juxtaposing the Followills rise to superstardom while showing their roots in searing fashion—they were raised in pretty much impoverished circumstances by parents whose Pentecostal beliefs left a deep spiritual tattoo on the soul. But Mitchell doesn’t do a very good job of showing why the band got hot, or how their music impacts their audience. He lets the backstory BE the story, and that is a very dangerous thing when all you’ve got is a family reunion and some jack ass drinking whiskey out of a bottle in one hand, while sucking back red wine in the other. What is also apparent is that the Kings of Leon cannot handle either their newfound fame, or the deranged element that appears to hang on the fringe of their backstory. Yeah, family is great and important, but when it reminds one of what can’t be, instead of what can, well…doors work both ways, my friend.

All of this is my normal way of saying that there are some pretty heavy hidden truths in this bit of celluloid, and I don’t believe in delivering the metaphysical road map to you on some sort of silver platter. See the film. You’ll see why enlightenment is always in the eye of the beholder, and the concepts of heaven and hell are not to be entertained when one is sucking their truth from a bottle. Turn the camera off when you’ve had ten too many drinks or four too many bong hits. Who wants to hear yet another tool espousing on what did and didn’t go right in one’s life, when every other band is making negative 50 bucks playing dive bars, while the Kings of Leon had a shot to do so much more, but took what was given, and shat on it. Rock music ain’t the problem, kids. Your parents are. Run; run as far as you can from that ghost of a past that is so haunting and wrong. But, don’t blame the devil. He is in the mirror, man.

Up above on the surface, one dwells in the sense of self-importance, inner ambition, outer rage, in betwixt some sort of answer hiding in many questions. Meanwhile, in the deep expanse of our inner space, the place where peace needs to inevitably reside, nothing seems to matter quite like that—as the universe expands outwards, inevitably to disappear, or, quite contrarily, to contract back into the Big Crunch, seeking nothing, pulling all that it once was into a singular focal point—life serves no purpose whatsoever other than to see what can endure…and what cannot. And what can endure is the human spirit, so why bankrupt it with preconceived notions of the Divine and Sacred? Find your own bliss; find that way that opens doors to possibilities, instead of retreating back to the old choices of prior generations. Another ghost, brother? No, thanks.

- Randy Ray

• Talihina Sky: Amazon (Pre-Order)

Hidden Flick – Season 5:

Set 1: Another Life, Brother, Oshare Can You See, The Ocean Learns to Sway > And the Wave Rolled Back, Rock ‘n’ Roll Drive-In, Part 2>The Tale of the Two Films > AL, B Reprise*

Intermission

Intermission: Part IV – The Hit Man>Intermission: Part V – The Caan Man>

Set 2: The Magic Man > The Mountains in the Mind > A Thousand Barefoot Children > Land > Air > Sea

Encore: Another Ghost, Brother