October 11–18, 2001
cover story|music issue
New local acts on the move.
In Philly we’ve grown accustomed to ascendant jazz talent; this is the city, after all, that simultaneously produced Joey DeFrancesco and Christian McBride. That said, it’s no small feat that pianist George Burton has recently been turning so many heads. Burton, a 22-year-old Temple alumnus, holds down the monthly "Groove Lounge" session at Ortlieb’s Jazzhaus, along with drummer-cohort Wayne Smith. Their sound is shadowy, crepuscular, with a fluid modality that suggests McCoy Tyner at his chillest. In other words, it’s not about virtuosity so much as vibe, which Burton has in abundance. By most accounts, his set was a highlight of the Collective Voices Festival in August; a JazzTimes reviewer praised the ensemble (a quartet featuring Burton, Smith, bassist Derek Hodge and alto saxophonist Jaleel Shaw) as "one of the best and most cohesive bands to take the stage." And in the same review: "Burton… seems destined to great things — and soon." Catch him at Groove Lounge tonight: Thu., Oct. 11, 8:30 p.m.-12:30 a.m., Ortlieb’s Jazzhaus, 847 N. Third St., 215-922-1035.
"Actually, I can honestly say I’ve never heard a rhyme about not being able to write a rhyme. The shit totally negates itself in logic," laughs Bernard Collins, the 30-year-old MC, poet, muralist and now fine arts grad student at Penn. He’s referring "Writer’s Block," a song he wrote for an upcoming EP he’s been working on with keyboardist, flutist and producer extraordinaire Damon Bennett and DJ Razor Ramone. "I’m uptight/ I need to write/ The paper’s still white like mayonnaise," goes the song. Collins, who also hosts the say-what-u-feel Wednesday night jam sessions at South Street Blues with Stephanie Renee, has been rhyming since he’s been out of diapers and busting tri-state arse for the Philly slam team for the last seven years. He’s taken home a cash purse solo on more than a few occasions to boot. Still, his analytical side deplores something about performance poetry: "It’s asinine to rate creativity — poems that have something to do with your perspective on the world — on a level of 1 to 10 by somebody who just stumbled into a bar. Or even by someone who has written poetry themself." Collins has also performed in St. Louis and California and as far as Helsinki, Rome and Milan. He sometimes drops by when speakeasies are held at Amiri Baraka’s or Abi Odun’s (a Last Poet) houses to spread indignant comic relief and his gold-medal gab gift.
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Philly’s becoming a hot spot for ivory-tickling ladies. Like equally noteworthy locals Amber deLaurentis and Ellen Lerner, Gina Kazanicka is making a big racket with her booming voice and eerily haunting songs. The classically trained pianist (she attended Bryn Mawr Conservatory) graduated from Elizabethtown in 1997 with a degree in music therapy, and worked with the terminally ill before taking her experiences and songs to Asheville, N.C., where she began her performance career. She’s been pounding the coffeehouse circuit and the keyboards ever since, relocating recently to Philadelphia. Sure, Tori Amos comparisons are inevitable, but Kazanicka puts her past to work in the present tense. Her songwriting touches dark emotions, and her influences range from classical composers like Schumann to the political folk of Joni Mitchell. It’s a hard combination to imagine, but that’s what makes Kazanicka so pleasantly confounding. She’ll play the Eastern Keyboard showcase — an evening dedicated to women and their pianos — on Oct. 24 at the Tin Angel with Lerner, Gina Scipione and Quiara.
On King Britt’s 1998 Sylk 130 joint When The Funk Hits the Fan, San Diego’s Alma Horton, a.k.a. Lady Alma, laid the foundation for her future as Philly’s own golden girl. Just back from three sold-out "London Meets Philadelphia" shows at the Jazz Cafe in London, she’s on a roll. With influences ranging from Billie Holiday to Jimi Hendrix, the chanteuse’s musical style spans genres and generations. Deeply rooted in soul, her music and dynamic vocal range encompass elements of house, hip-hop, R&B and funk. When Alma scats, it’s the real thing. With such versatility coupled with the petite songstress’ incredible stage presence — seen in opening shows for the likes of Mos Def, Moby and The Roots — you’ve got one hot mama! Riding the popularity of her debut solo single, "Count on Me," Alma upped the ante, winning $5,000 at the Absolut Jams unsigned artist competition just weeks ago. Her first full length album isn’t far away, but quench your thirst for Alma right now with these: King Britt’s "Happiness," Ursula Rucker’s "Spring" and 4 Hero’s "Hold It Down." Next up for Alma? Independently releasing her rousing funked-out anthem "House Party" in January. And of course, continuing to hold it down at the Black Lily and all over the world in the name of Philadelphia.
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Their name reflects not only the kinship that blues/soul musicians Tim Gleeson and Art Austin share, but also that elusive ingredient they figure may take them to another level commercially. Recording and performing as The Luck Brothers, these talented part-time session musicians are certainly poised and ready for that big break. "We want to become well established locally," says South Jersey native/multi-instrumentalist/singer Gleeson. "We’re songwriters, so we need our songs to be heard." The duo’s witty "Mojo in My Coffee" has been championed on WXPN’s blues show, which in turn, helped lead to headlining gigs at Warmdaddy’s and the London Grill. Gleeson and Philly native Austin — whose earthy Otis Redding-meets-Marvin Gaye voice has shown up on records by everyone from The O’Jays to Lou Rawls — recently saw their debut release, Coming Back Home, get new life via a distribution deal with Biograph Records. The Luck Brothers, who have appeared at Memphis’ Blues Stock Festival, are hard at work on their as-yet-untitled sophomore CD, slated for release in early 2002. The record features Kathy "We Are Family" Sledge on the track "The Train That Never Comes." Sledge was returning a favor to the Brothers — they’ve been members of the Sister Sledge touring band for more than a decade.
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Guitarist Jon Madof is best recognized in Philly for the style he honed in the Taylor-Madof Group: spacious, groovy, angular, yet approachable. So it may strain the imagination somewhat to hear of his devotion to klezmer music — which, in its hyperactive frenzy, seems an antithesis. Not so, says Madof. "There’s some thread of similarity with all the music that I do," he explains, "but it’s not an aesthetic thread; it’s being drawn to the music that I’m listening to, and hopefully creating music that I’m drawn to." His three-piece ensemble Rashanim provides an apt illustration; for every frenetic exercise, there’s a darker, more poetic interlude. Jewish and Bulgarian folk songs segue into Keith Jarrett tunes. Madof, whose guitar is as fluid in this context as before, weaves these strands into something like a tapestry. It stands to reason that this is also the case in Madof’s other working group, a quartet featuring the highly regarded free-jazz saxophonist Daniel Carter. Madof promises to bring this latter ensemble back to his hometown later in the fall.
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Listening to the controlled chaos of The Meicht Group’s third release, Loud Like Hemlocks (Scrapple Records), I’m sad. Not because the music — an out-there conflagration of improvised cacophony and premeditated orneriness — is especially somber. What’s sad for Philadelphians is that no sooner did this wonderfully inventive jazz/experimental trio grace us with their third joint, did they decide to relocate to Paris, which is of course good for them. The Meicht brothers (trumpeter Aaron and reedist Seth) and percussionist Brendan Dougherty lay down eight challenging tracks (titled, simply enough, "three:one" through "three:eight") that explore the dynamics of their two horns, one drum kit, no bass configuration. That they come recommended by Philly’s pre-eminent improv percussionist Toshi Makihara is no small achievement. This is a band of contradictions — free jazz with forethought — whose Loud Like Hemlocks blends long periods of quiet, contemplative texturing with bursts of frenetic abandon. www.meichtgroup.com
Maybe I did sing on chunks of the Rhythm Donkeys first CD, Freedom Ain’t Free. Don’t let that dissuade you from easing into the oozing spaghetti Western eclectronica of programmer Scott Chestnut and Pennsylvania Ballet pianist Jeff Story’s operatic endeavor (operatic mainly because Story’s a diva — in the nicest way, mind you). From the flippant psychedelic-house sound of "Something for Your Head", the raucous ravey rodeo of "Rolling’" and "Buk Buk" to classical gas guzzlers like the soulful "Nobody" and the sleek, lugrubrious "Glide," Freedom Ain’t Free is damn fresh for music honed for at least a decade. While the CD/MP3s were recorded by Chestnut and Story, its dub-singing-style has been tackled by Story and several others (including an upcoming remix of "Glide" with folkie Deidre Flint). But for Rhythm Donkeys’ live revue/open-bar record-release party at Moda on Nov. 6, Chestnut and Story lay back, handing over the high-gloss Donkey reigns to keyboard guy Mark Boyce for a low-rent overhaul. What Boyce, percussionist Joe Tayoun and saxophonist Elliott Levin will produce is a funky-lounge instrumental-only live PA version that a) promises to be a unique debut, with or without its principals in tow, sober or not, and b) promises to show you why I got involved in the first place. It’s that good.
Stendhal is an ivy league band. Not because you’ll be seeing them taking physics at Penn anytime soon, but because they seem to have all these musical vines crawling up the walls of indie rock. Even though it seems like they should be a weed, they keep getting prettier — and more widespread — as they grow. Their current EP, Four Songs, follows up last year’s Impure with a few new tunes and reworkings that show off their continuing evolution as Philadelphia’s premier horror-rock quartet. On the other hand, they’ve joined the multimedia circuit, spending two weeks providing a live soundtrack to John Lumia’s splintered, sardonic sketch act, Amputation Nation. And in the last year, they’ve been gaining attention — and a devoted following — from all over the place as an intense synthesis of some of the best underground music from the last several decades: King Crimson, Joy Division, Einstürzende Neubauten. The best part is that they remain refreshingly musical without compromising their exquisitely raw aftertaste. Next on the menu, after trampling the mid-Atlantic next weekend, is an experimental instrumental set at Gate to Moonbase Alpha; knowing them, they’ll break down the gate and shoot the moon. www.stendhalnoise.com
—Helen H. Thompson
Things tend to happen early for John Stephens. He started playing classical piano at 5. Began writing and performing his own songs at 11. He was directing choirs by 13. At age 16, the Springfield, Ohio, native graduated from high school and started at Penn, where he directed Counterparts, one of the nation’s top collegiate a cappella choirs, and won a bunch of awards. The dude’s talented, all right? Now 22, Stephens is based in New York, but is still very Philly at heart, as evidenced by the groovin’ retro soul he’s been hard at work on. A musician, composer, songwriter with a little bit of Stevie Wonder-kind magic at work, Stephens’ nine-song demo (tracks from which you can download from his website) displays a sultry soul groove that hearkens back to the smooth ’70s but never sounds dated. Check this cat out on the way up, as he’ll be playing an intimate show on Nov. 3 at North by Northwest in Mount Airy. www.john-stephens.com
In March 2001 I stumbled into the Theater of the Living Arts to see Fathead and Los Amigos Invisibles. Before their respective languorous groove and whinnying disco kicked in, I witnessed the wow-wha-wha-ing jazz/hop/jam/bop/classic rock sound of a group of gangly UArts students, Townhall. That night I was awestruck by what this buncha kids could do. Singer/trombonist George Stanford coughed out a savage loving blues squawk à la Eric Burdon atop War’s liquid funky-drummer pulse (which Kevin Pride provides here), haughtily bleating out Beat lyrics about mastering the world. I was pretty sure he could do it, what with his wail backed by complex psychedelic jazz guitar lines (Steve Howe meets Eric Gale) laid down by Nate Skiles and the sucka-blaring Bitches Brew-era trumpet belched out by Mark Smidt. One self-titled EP, a double CD Live at the Point and more press than anyone since The Roots and G-Love later, and Townhall’s still one of Philly’s busiest, ricketiest sounds bound to hit big. www.townhallmusic.com
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Could Sean Byrne be Philly’s next drummer-turned-superstar frontman? The skinsman for Lenola and Mazarin — the band led by drummer-turned-songwriting genius Quentin Stoltzfus — is making his case. Earlier this year The Twin Atlas (Byrne and buddy Lucas Zaleski) released their second LP, Kitchen U.S.A. (on the Lenola-run Tappersize), which goes a long way toward establishing Byrne as more than just a rhythmic dude. The duo of Byrne and Zaleski has been playing together since the early ’90s when they met at the University of Delaware and only relatively recently began releasing their recorded output. The pared down psychedelic chamber folk on Kitchen U.S.A. conjures traces of Nick Drake-style folk with shimmery melodies and instrumentation while incorporating a rough-hewn anything-goes experimental feel. With beautifully crafted, mysteriously wonderful songs ("A Thousand Smiles," "Winter All The Time") and obliquely titled instrumentals ("Where the Feet Have No Name," "Bridges on Lincoln & Kelly"), Kitchen U.S.A. doesn’t feel like the work of a side project. While The Twin Atlas is mostly a studio creation and it’s unclear whether they have plans to do much live performance (Zaleski lives in New York and Byrne has lots of band obligations), I’d like to go on the record as saying that they really should. www.thetwinatlas.com