—Thomas McMahon

The audience responded most enthusiastically to entries from Field Music’s outstanding self-titled debut. The new, also self-titled double album doesn’t pack in the instant hits the way the debut did. But given its more challenging approach—fewer hooks, more “arty,” for lack of a better term—and the fact that it only came out a few weeks ago, it’s a safe assumption that the latest collection is still growing on many of us. But there were some standouts live from the new one. “The Rest Is Noise” starts with an almost show-tune like jauntiness, ascends into an incredibly satisfying chorus, and then sneaks into a chiming outro that sounds lifted from Marquee Moon. On the record, “Measure” is highlighted by some gorgeous strings, which didn’t make it on tour (Field Music was actually borrowing its equipment from the similarly named opener, Learning Music), but they did a fine job substituting guitar lines.

As it turned out, I was not nearly the oldest person in the building. A gentleman whom I’d estimate at about 70 was in attendance. Also, at one point, a middle-age man cut through the room holding what appeared to be his dry cleaning. Then again, it was very late—maybe I was just dreaming.

—Thomas McMahon

—Thomas McMahon

(from Fairy Tales Forgotten available now from Lost Industry)

A brief bio of John Carpenter describes his music as “Nightclub Rock ‘n’ Roll,” which could be misleading if you don’t picture the right kind of nightclub. Listening to his unsettling new album, Fairy Tales Forgotten, the setting unfolds like so: you see a seedy dive tucked away in some industrial part of town. It’s dimly lit, with chain-smoked Camels doing the job of a fog machine. The patrons are a rough lot, mostly interested in when their next ice-cold domestic is coming. But on a tiny stage in the back corner, John Carpenter and his drummer, who humbly goes by the name J. Explosive, are brewing something sinister. The songs are bleak and even spooky at times. What keeps it all intriguing is Carpenter’s voice—theatrical without being over-the-top, sometimes a menacing baritone, other times a soaring falsetto. Carpenter occasionally engages his guitar in bouts of wild shredding, notably toward the end of the slow-burn blues epic “The Captain.” The overall sound is something like a down-tempo Gun Club or an off-kilter Jeff Buckley. Perhaps the biggest surprise on the album is in the title track. After a typically creepy opening, the song sweeps you into a tender, almost-triumphant chorus that recalls the Ronettes’ “Be My Baby.” Then it suddenly spits you back into the shadows.

—Thomas McMahon

Download: Farmer Dave Scher “Bablone Nights”

(from Flash Forward To The Good Times out now on Kemado)

Farmer Dave Scher is almost the Chris Darrow of his day—he’s got the cosmic aplomb and the cheerful versatility to put him in collaborations with Elvis Costello, Jenny Lewis, Nobody and the Mystic Chords of Memory, dios, Miranda Lee Richards and more. He now lives in Venice, where he listens to KXLU—where he famously used to DJ—and where he is basking in the happy after-effects of his new solo album Flash Forward To The Good Times. This interview by Thomas McMahon.

Did you consider having the album be just ‘Farmer Dave,’ or did you need to have your last name on there to distinguish from other Farmer Daves?
Farmer Dave Scher: It just landed. It’s weird if you have a nickname—like the ‘Farmer’ nickname has been around since I was up at KXLU. I think that the last name sort of landed in the present a little more. Sort of like tethered the balloon somewhat.
Do you still listen to KXLU?
Farmer Dave Scher: Yeah—now that I’m living in Venice, I hear it much better and I’m excited. I couldn’t hear it when I was in Highland Park, and I was also on the road a lot the last few years. It kind of was like coming full circle to be able to hear it because that time at the station was pretty much what blew my mind—got everything going the way it is.
You give Long Beach a couple of shout-outs on the album.
Farmer Dave Scher: Yeah, I’m from there. I went to the high school downtown—Long Beach Polytechnic. Snoop Dogg was there, just a few years ahead. Sublime were playing in backyards at keg parties. And so it’s definitely always been on my mind, the LBC and all that. This particular record, I wanted to have a little fun like that—shout things out. The last record I made was a little more under the microscope, so this one I wanted to have a little fun with it like that. But, yeah, I’m stoked on Long Beach. I think I’m going to go play down there a bit. My friends have asked me to do something at the end of September. And then I used to work at Fingerprints down there when I was a young guy, so I might go play there, too. Either way, I like that city. When I would come home from tours the last few years, I would go there to chill out. It’s closer to beaches with good waves, and my family is there, and it’s relaxing. And it has good clubs and bands, and it’s happening a little bit.
Another place you mention is San Miguel de Allende.
Farmer Dave Scher: That’s in Guanajuato, Mexico, and my dad lives there. But if you ever look into it, it’s a beautiful town, and old colonial town that’s still pretty intact. Especially at the center of the town—it’s got the plaza and the church and the cobblestone. There’s also a lot of American expatriates there. A lot of GIs after World War II went down there and studied art or just chilled out. My grandfather went to Instituto Allende and studied fine arts for a bit in the ’60s. And then my dad moved to Cabo San Lucas and ran a boat, kind of like a catamaran that gave people margaritas or something. And then he moved down to San Miguel, and he met a lady and got married, so I have a rad family there. I put in as much time there as I can. When I was playing with Interpol, we played in Mexico City, and my family all rolled down to that. So that was exciting. I know there’s a lot of cool stuff going on in Mexico City, so I’m hoping to get into that. I’d also like to make some of these songs into Spanish language. But I kind of want to do it the right way. I think I’m going to go down over Thanksgiving and work with a couple of my cousins. My cousin and my aunt are actually these hip young ladies, so I think they can help me.
Are you talking about doing the whole album in Spanish?
Farmer Dave Scher: At least a few of the songs. I don’t think all of them are built for it, but I know a couple of them would be really fun. And here we get some records once in a while where people are using English as a second language, you know? Even ABBA or Shakira or Nico. I think it could be a little bit charming if my Spanish isn’t perfect. But yo puedo hablar Español un poquito—you know, I can do it.
Would you say that ‘We Have a Way’ has a sort of Motown vibe?
Farmer Dave Scher: It does. I had some friends over to visit. One of them was ‘Z’ [Elizabeth Berg], who has that band the Like. She sang a little bit on a song, and then when I played her that, she pointed out that I absorbed a lot of vibes from my neighbors. This part of Venice I’m in, the family next door is African-American. They’ve lived there for fifty years. I wasn’t surfing as much when I made the record in the winter, but I’d ride my bike every day. And I think that they were always playing really good soul music, and I think it gave that song a little extra of that mood than I had thought at the beginning. I didn’t want to copy anything specific. 92.3 has that guy Art Laboe, who plays really good soul music at night, and then he does the dedications. I think that might have spun it a little bit. Aside from loving Motown a lot, the musicians on that song are also really proficient. If I had played the instruments myself, it probably wouldn’t have made it to that destination.
Was ‘Our Love Is a Wave’ inspired by a wedding?
Farmer Dave Scher: Yeah! I guess it’s like a composite of two different weddings, but it’s actually made for a third. I first started to think about that for my friend’s wedding a long time ago, but I never finished the words, so it sat there. Then other friends got married on a cliff by the ocean in Malibu, and me and the two violinists who played on my record, Paz and Ana Lenchantin—Paz is on the cover of L.A. RECORD right now; she’s in Entrance. So Paz, Ana and I were playing in a little trio at this wedding, so when they walked off, we played this really sad music. That was the second wedding. And then a third wedding up in Big Sur, also on a cliff. They got lucky—there was no fog, a full view north to south, like, panorama. So I started thinking about that and also the fairy tale aspect. I’m single as hell right now, but someday I feel like I’ll be ready to do that. That song is my kind of hopes for that mood, you know?
In one song on this album and a few of your earlier songs, you’ve mentioned ‘ghost dance.’ Are you referring to the Native American ritual?
Farmer Dave Scher: Yeah. From what I’ve learned about those ghost dances and what I imagined was just a lot of motion, transcendence—it seemed to be their last hope to make it to a new plane. But I get motion and color when I think about it. When I just think about it, I can hear sounds. Kind of like a little maelstrom. If you’ve ever really stirred up your chi or just tried to get something really cooked up, you get in this kind of frenzied spot. The Whirling Dervishes did it; the Sufi mystics would get into that. A lot of cultures—even Americans, even a rave. If you dance enough, you get to another spot. To me, the idea of a ghost dance is just even a little more fantastic. I feel like there’s something that’s hard for me to describe to you that’s just pushing on the edges of everything that you consider a daily reality. Even that scene in that Doors movie when he’s got the kid in the car and he looks out the window, and they put the Indian music in there, and they drive past an accident or something. I’m just trying to figure out a way to explain that mood I get. I start to hear these kind of sounds. And I just like the idea of it, of this particular kind of a dance. And I’m actually making another song about it with the Beachwood Sparks guys. We got together, and we’re writing.
What do you guys have in the works?
Farmer Dave Scher: Well, I think that we’ve got a good shot to make a record. It took a while, but I think that everybody’s in good form. I went up to Santa Cruz and wrote with Chris [Gunst] and Brent [Rademaker], and we hope to take the ideas and get them ready. I’d like to record at the end of the year if possible, but we’re taking it comfortably.
How has the music scene in L.A. changed over the years that you’ve playing?
Farmer Dave Scher: When I got out of college and moved to Echo Park for the first time, it was 1998, so I’d say that I’m not really a fit candidate to say how it’s changed. Because I think a lot of people at my age probably don’t go to shows the same. I used to be out at Spaceland every night, and when I was in my 20s, I was completely steeped in it. And then Beachwood Sparks—the version that we formed eventually that went off and started touring, and then you start to notice when you come home maybe you don’t want to get as involved, you know? It’s like different levels of activity. So I don’t think I really know a lot of what’s going on. But I will say that I’ve been on the road for about five years playing the hired-gun kind of a thing, and I would like to plug in more again and see for myself. I’d like to get more involved in a lot of the projects that are going on. I would say that dublab for me is really rad. I like to see the events that they’re teamed up in. This Silent Movie Theatre that I’m going to play at is very exciting. It seems like a chance to gather a lot of really interesting visual media and just have another approach to what a concert should be.
Are you still selling the Hot Nuts?
Farmer Dave Scher: I hung up that business when I started playing. But I had it based on an aunt’s recipe. And Danny Preston from Rainbow Arabia used to run a supermarket up in Malibu at Point Dume. So I’d go up there and use an FDA-approved oven, and I sold them at the Echo, Little Joy, Sea Level Records and a few other spots. And I sold them to the catering for that show The O.C. [Laughs.] That was a good one. So, yeah, now that I’m home and have a little more free time, I think I definitely have to revive the nuts.

‘AN EVENING IN THE FARMER DAVE ZONE’ WITH FARMER DAVE SCHER ON TUE., SEPT. 15, AT CINEFAMILY AT THE SILENT MOVIE THEATRE, 611 N. FAIRFAX AVE., LOS ANGELES. 8 PM / $13 / ALL AGES. CINEFAMILY.ORG. FARMER DAVE SCHER’S FLASH FORWARD TO THE GOOD TIMES IS OUT NOW ON KEMADO. VISIT FARMER DAVE SCHER AT MYSPACE.COM/FARMERDAVESCHER.

—Thomas McMahon

(from Flash Forward To The Good Times out now on Kemado)

Somehow Farmer Dave found time to conjure up a solo album amid his time playing with Jenny Lewis, Interpol and a host of other fine acts. (And is he still selling those delicious Hot Nuts?) The man is in demand, but it’s been too long since he’s shared his own kaleidoscopic musical visions with the world. All Night Radio’s 2004 debut Spirit Stereo Frequency was a seemingly overlooked masterpiece, but the duo of Farmer Dave and Jimi Hey called it quits shortly after the album’s release. Fans of that psych-pop jamboree and the cosmic country-rock of Farmer Dave’s previous band Beachwood Sparks will find plenty in which to indulge in on Flash Forward to the Good Times. The twangy title track is awash in a familiar blend of pedal steel and organ. As was the case with the All Night Radio album, Farmer Dave’s Zombies penchant is apparent here. “Our Love is a Wave” is an unabashed ode to, yes, love that recalls Odessey & Oracle’s “Friends of Mine.” The soaring chorus boasts a lyric that could be written off as total cheese, but it’s just too perfect: “Our love is a wave that we ride together / into the sunset of our days.” “Finnz Hammock” is an irresistible hoedown that could pass for a Beachwood Sparks rarity. But Flash Forward isn’t a rehash of Farmer Dave’s past. He tries out some unexpected styles—with mixed results. “You Pick Me Up” sounds like he’s fronting local tokers Future Pigeon. It’s some decent dub, but Farmer Dave’s vocals sound strained and awkward. On the other hand, “We Have a Way” goes for a Motown vibe and pulls it off. You could imagine K-EARTH 101 playing the hell out of it if it were more polished and recorded 40 years ago.

— Thomas McMahon

Stream: The Old 97′s “Four Leaf Clover” (f. Exene Cervenka)

(from Too Far To Care on Elektra)

Rhett Miller and the Old 97’s have probably seen Dallas from a DC-9 at night on several occasions, and they return to earth when whim and inspiration combine to release albums of distinct and considered country-style rock ‘n’ roll. Miller—who is opening for his own band with a set from his new solo album—speaks now about writing a song while little children shriek all around him. This interview by Thomas McMahon.

So you guys had a greatest hits album come out a few years ago. How did that feel?
Rhett Miller (vocals, guitar): Very weird! Very weird. But it’s OK—I feel if you have a greatest hits album come out and you’re still relatively young, then you’re doing something right. I think we live in an era where there’s still such a premium placed on youth, but I think less so maybe than in a long time—I think people are willing to stay with you for the ride through a few years. But it’s nice. The record itself and the way it was put together and the liner notes by Robert Christgau and stuff—it was very cool. It’s very nice to have that out there. But I worry way less about that than the actual ‘record’ records.
How did you get Christgau to do the liners?
They had a shortlist of people that all seemed very obvious to me. Nobody bad, but one guy that had reviewed us in Rolling Stone when Too Far To Care came out had given us kind of a bad review—well, not bad, but just incredibly lukewarm. And this was from one of the editors of No Depression, and it was like a real judgmental kind of review. Like, ‘It’s too loud for country, and it’s too country for rock.’ I’m like, ‘What? When did your rules become the rules?’ And they wanted him to write the liner notes, and I was like, ‘No way, man.’ It’s not like I’m holding a grudge against every reviewer that’s ever given me a bad review; I just remember that one hitting a little too close to home in the very early days. And I remember Christgau having written some really nice but—more importantly—really intelligent things about what we do. So when they said, ‘Well, do you have anybody better in mind?’ I was like, ‘Yeah, Robert Christgau.’ He’s only the best rock critic in the world. I’ve actually really made a point to read fewer reviews and just not try and be in the loop very much. I used to get a Google Alert so I would know anytime anyone blogged about me or said anything. And eventually I realized I was really just making myself crazy. It’s like, ‘Why am I doing this to myself? It’s hard enough to shout down the voices in my own head. Forget about the random people on the Internet.’
Do you find songwriting easier or more difficult now than you did in your early days?
It’s different. Everything’s kind of different. The main difference is logistics. Now I’m a dad with a couple of kids. And I work really hard—I play a lot of gigs. And so there’s a lot of stuff that fills up my time. So I’ve had to learn to write songs in a crowded room. I used to be very precious about where I was able to write a song. I used to convert, like, little closets under stairs or places like a garage. I’d have to find these places and be very secretive about it. Now it’s just wherever I can do it, man. I’ll sit in the middle of the living room with the kids going insane and write away. Nobody’s listening to me anyway.
I don’t know how you can do that.
Do you have kids?
Yeah, a 2 ½-year-old and a 1-year-old.
We’ve got a 5 and 3. It gets easier. Once they get out of diapers and more into, like, rational human thought, it’s a little easier. Not much. My daughter was just throwing a fit right now because we didn’t have the right treat in the house. I’m like, ‘Well, you’re getting a treat anyway.’ But whatever, you know. Just life.
It seems rare for a band to have been together for as long as you guys have—more than 15 years now—with no line-up changes. What’s the secret?
Murry and I have been playing together on and off forever. But it took me a long time to flesh out the rest of the lineup and find bandmates that felt right. There’s a lot of dudes out there, and a lot of different egos. That’s the hard part, man—all the egos. But once you find the right guys, it’s just a matter of … I think one thing that really was good for us was sharing publishing like we do, where everybody gets a cut of the songwriting. A lot of bands, the drummer doesn’t get any money off songwriting just because he’s a drummer. And that’s a big reason bands break up. Because the lead singer will be driving a Mercedes, and the drummer will be driving a Ford Focus or whatever. We don’t split it completely evenly, but almost. And I think that’s been good for us. And also I think it’s served us well that we haven’t had huge breakthrough success. I mean, it’s nice that we can go pull a thousand or two thousand people in most every city, but we’ve never had to have the public burning out on the sound of us. I remember we were on the label with Third Eye Blind at the time, and I wouldn’t want to trade places with those guys.
Murry said in an interview last year that he didn’t think you guys had had a real rehearsal since ’95. How can you get away with that?
That’s a good question. We did a run of dates at this famous old punk rock club in Hoboken, N.J., just last week—a four-night stand at Maxwell’s. And over the course of those four nights, we only repeated ‘Timebomb’ during any of the nights. So we played about 90 total songs over the stand. And we did have to have long sound checks for that. We won’t call them rehearsals, but they were long sound checks. That was about as close as we’ve come to having a rehearsal in a long, long time. It’s just that thing—it’s like we’ve gigged so long, and our songs are not super complicated. So once you get to a certain point, if you’ve played it 200, 300 times, you’re not going to really ever need to rehearse it again. Not to mention that pretty much every night, I have some sort of band dream—where I’m on stage with the band. You know, that’s got to count for something like a rehearsal, right? In my dream, I’m playing the songs. So it’s kind of a rehearsal. But our stuff is pretty straightforward, you know. It’s classic American songwriting. You know, there are some tricks here and there, but it’s pretty straight. And that combined with the fact that I don’t think any of us in the band or in our fanbase get really hung up on us being technically perfect. I think there’s something to be said for spontaneity and a little bit of a raggedness to our sound. I don’t think anybody begrudges us that.
Both with Old 97’s and solo, you’re on smaller labels now after being on a big label for a while. How is it different?
Well, Shout! Factory is part of Sony. It’s funny, though, because really Sony now feels like one of the indies. I mean, not exactly. They’re still working with big, big massive artists, but there’s just not that many of those anymore. And everybody has to work so hard just to figure out ways to get any attention in the marketplace and break through. It’s kind of nice. There’s an exciting element to being back in a sort of prehistoric situation with rock ‘n’ roll. And I think it’s got to be good for music. And in the end, it’s got to be good for those labels, too, because the people that ran those labels in the ’90s made such a huge mistake in ignoring the Internet and the inevitability of file sharing. And now, here we are. They’re having to kind of start over from scratch. Kind of a good thing, because I think that they appreciate artists who have built up a following over the years. You know, it would be so hard to be starting out right now. If you have a fanbase of 100,000 or 200,000 people, you’ve made their job pretty easy right off the bat.
When you make a solo album, do you make a conscious effort to do something different from Old 97’s?
Oh, yeah. Well, I don’t even have to try. I mean, there was the one I made in high school, which was the first record I ever made. That was produced by Murry, and he played bass on it. So in a way, it wasn’t even exactly a solo record. But the ones I’ve made since then have all been about giving a space for the songs that the band has rejected—the songs that don’t fit with the 97’s. And so the definition of the solo album is its otherness. It’s the idea that, here, this is all the stuff that’s in my head that I can’t find room for within the confines of this democracy.
And with the new solo album, you worked with the same producer as the latest Old 97’s album?
Yeah, Salim Nourallah. And we’ll work with him again for our next 97’s record. I kind of see no reason to stop. We work so well together that I just feel like I should strike while the iron’s hot. That’s sort of why I’m impatient to get in the studio again with the 97’s, too. We’re in a better space than we’ve been in years and years and years, and we found sort of our dream producer.
There have been a few songs that you guys have redone. Two songs from Hitchhike to Rhome, ‘Four Leaf Clover’ and ‘Doreen,’ ended up on later albums. And then ‘Question’ from Satellite Rides was on one of your solo albums. What makes you want to take another crack at a song?
There’s always a different reason. ‘Doreen,’ when we recorded it, it was like bluegrass and a little more laid back. Then it became our set closer—the big rock song that we ended every show with. So we just made a decision that we wanted a version of it on Wreck Your Life that represented more of what it had become: very electric sounding instead of acoustic instruments. And then with ‘Four Leaf Clover’: I had written a song that later appeared on [solo album] The Believer, ‘Fireflies,’ during the Too Far to Care writing sessions with the idea that Exene Cervenka would sing the harmony on it. And I brought it to her. It’s this real Tammy Wynette-George Jones kind of classic country song. So when I brought it to her, she said, ‘Rhett, you know I don’t sing like that.’ I said, ‘God, now that I think about it, you’re right. You don’t, really.’ So I said, ‘What do you have in mind?’ And she said, ‘I really love your song ‘Four Leaf Clover.’ How about something like that?’ And I thought, ‘Well, “Four Leaf Clover” appeared on a record that only sold like 2,000 copies.’ Or, actually about 10,000, but still. And I was hoping that the Elektra debut would sell a lot more, so I figured why not revisit it and do something totally different? Make it a duet instead of what it was. And then ‘Question,’ I wrote that in the studio basically when we were making Satellite Rides, and the producer walked by while I was just playing it, and he said, ‘Don’t move. Don’t move.’ And he brought over mics and set them up and just recorded it like that: just one vocal, one guitar, live. But it’s great. I mean, that song has gotten more usage on TV and in film, and people seem to connect to it more than any song I’ve ever written. So a few years later, I decided that I wanted to take another crack at it—maybe flesh it out a little bit, give it some instrumentation beyond just one guitar and one vocal. So I tried it. That was really more for me. That was just kind of a whim. I wanted to hear one of my very favorite songs I’d ever written with Jon Brion playing organ on it or something.

THE OLD 97’S ON WED., JULY 8, AT THE HENRY FONDA THEATER, 6126 HOLLYWOOD BLVD., HOLLYWOOD. 8 PM / $22.50-$25 / ALL AGES. GOLDENVOICE.COM. THE OLD 97’S BLAME GRAVITY IS OUT NOW ON NEW WEST. RHETT MILLER’S SELF-TITLED ALBUM IS OUT NOW ON SHOUT! FACTORY. VISIT THE OLD 97’S AT OLD97S.COM OR MYSPACE.COM/THEOLD97S. VISIT RHETT MILLER AT RHETTMILLER.COM OR MYSPACE.COM/RHETTMILLER.

—Thomas McMahon