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Click on photos. All comments by Steve Palopoli unless otherwise noted.
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After 25 years as a professional musician, it's clear that Bob Brozman has come a long way -- from Santa Cruz street musician to "King of National Guitar," in fact. But besides the international acclaim, the constant world-traveling, a 10-record deal with Virgin Europe and the cult of admiring vintage-guitar lovers, life hasn't changed much since those early days. So put down your whammy bar and step away from the effects pedal, 'cause whether he's venturing into retro styles or something mondo futuristic, it's still muscle control that drives Brozman's bionic guitar feats. Using primarily National steel guitars, many of them of pre-World War II design, he fuels compositions like "Obvious Blues" and "Screamin' Ska Blues" with sheer adrenaline. Though he's been playing since age six, it was really his love-at-first sight with the National at age 13 that set him on his twisted musical path, one that has plowed through American blues, Hawaiian music, jazz, Carribean, African, Cuban and Indian traditions. Listen to him simmer on "Music For Slow Surfers" and then thrash the hell out of his steel guitar on the Hawaiian chant "Oua, Oua". Then you'll understand. |
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One thing the Rev. Billy C. Wirtz is definitely not worried about is job security: "There's always a need for people like me to rearrange people's sensibilities," he says. And between his retro-hillbilly veneer -- which is completely subverted by his razor-sharp satire and contemporary weirdness -- his piano antics, and songs like "Grandma vs. The Crusher" and "Mennonite Surf Party," he's certainly done plenty of that. In person, his towering, tattoo-covered bod and very loud shirts make you stand up and take notice, but his music will knock you on your ass. Besides dropping funnies at a carpet-bomb pace, Wirtz consistently comes through with the political left hooks, as well (my favorite so far is his parody of the Southern Baptist boycott of Disney called "We've Got Small Minds After All," though "Right Wing Round-Up" topped my Wirtz playlist for a very, very long time). But underneath all the craziness Wirtz's real respect and talent for blues piano, especially boogie-woogie, shines through. |
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Imagine how much it must suck to be Fred Eaglesmith's next-door neighbor. You know, when he first moves in he's a nice folkie guy, moody and maybe a little odd, but generally low-key and certainly never too loud. You get all comfortable over the course of a few years, and then, WHAM! Suddenly Fred's a bonafide rock and roller, wearing black all the time and kickin' out the jams over there every night with his band. The nice guy next door is suddenly ripping out raw, menacing acoustic rock and singing about guns, cars, booze, guns and cars. You're doing morning stretches in your fuzzy slippers while songs like "Time To Get A Gun", "Alcohol And Pills", and "Water In The Fuel" wash over the neighborhood. And you signed a lease. Fred -- Mr Eaglesmith to you -- cleared up the firearms question before launching into "Time To Get A Gun" at a recent show: "People ask me if I'm really a gun guy," he told the crowd. "I'm not a gun guy. But I would shoot Charleton Heston." |
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Ray Wylie Hubbard remembers a time before Willie Nelson sang at the Armadillo World Headquarters over 25 years ago. And if you look at snapshots from the Texas music scene around that time, you'll see his face quite a bit. Though his classic "Up Against The Wall Redneck Mother" was an impromptu rallying cry for the cosmic cowboys, he'd kind of like to forget those years -- if only he could remember them. Certainly many had forgotten him before he turned up clean and sober in the '90s with the best songs of his career. On both Loco Gringo's Lament and the subsequent Lost Train of Thought he combined his own turbulent life experience with a flair for poetic storytelling and a melodic sixth sense that had only gotten sharper since his days of spinning catchy Texas anthems. "When She Sang Amazing Grace," "Rockabilly Rock" and the blistering "Wanna Rock and Roll" were Americana classics the minute they dropped out of Hubbard's brain. Still, they couldn't have prepared anyone for his next album, Dangerous Spirits, one of the best albums of 1997. More soulful than Townes Van Zandt, even darker than Robert Earl Keen, but clearly indebted to both, it is a mind-bending journey into a world that can only be described as supernatural. It's clear that one of Texas' finest songwriters still has plenty to say. |
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on Dancing Cat Records Keola Beamer - Ray Kane - Cyril Pahinui Reverend Dennis Kamakahi Barney Isaacs & George Kuo |
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