Columns

“Whenever I am not touring, I’m back in Oklahoma,” says 22-year-old singer-songwriter Samantha Crain, who, along with her band, The Midnight Shivers, just released her first full-length, Songs in the Night. When you hear Crain’s voice for the first time, it’s easy to imagine her sitting on a front porch in Shawnee, Oklahoma—not New York or L.A. —just living the good life. Because that’s what Crain’s music does—it takes you to a special place where you just want to let everything slide.

In case you haven’t heard ‘em yet, Rubblebucket Orchestra aren’t the straight-forward funk ensemble that their name might suggest. Instead they are a vivid ten-piece afrobeat/rock band led by trumpeter Alex Toth and fronted by the alluring vocals of Kalmia Traver; both members of reggae band John Brown's Body.

You know how it is when you get a song lyric stuck in your head?  It turns your skull into a mental pinball machine, with the lyric violently bouncing from flipper to ramp to bumper and back again.   It racks up points as it targets your ability to concentrate and beats your focus to a pulp.  Personally, I’ve had Ashford & Simpson’s “Solid” and Robbie Nevil’s “Wot’s It to Ya” in my head on and off since the early ‘80s.

While other male/female duos like She & Him, have graced the covers of magazines, The Bird and the Bee, have made a fashionable statement while making sounds from the 60’s and 70’s sound contemporary.

I’ve never had the opportunity to formally interview Neko Case, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a story that involves her. About six years ago, before one of her shows in St. Louis, I sat next to and talked with Ms. Case for a good two hours.

Many may remember Charley Orlando as the front-man for the psychedelic /folk groove acoustic duo Dexter Grove, who courageously played more than 250+ shows a year for almost ten years straight. After a five year well deserved break from the road, Orlando is back with his Charley Orlando Band.

Modern indie rock troubadours that sound weary, but not angst-ridden, and tender, but not twee are a rare breed, indeed, and that's probably why Matthew Houck has in the time since his 2000 debut as Fillup Shack ("Hipolit") become a connoisseur's choice in the genre.

Sound of Urchin ("SOU", "Urchin", "The Sound of MF Urchin") is a diverse "outsider arena-rock" band from Brooklyn NY and New Hope PA. SOU is known for their eclectic songs and unique line-up of a drummer who sings ("Tomato"), two lead guitarists ("B-ILL" and "Seahag"), and a bassist ("Michael Davidson"), and for their energetic, spontaneous live shows and heavy touring schedules.  Glide's newest columnist Melissa Brodeur recently tossed a few questions the way of Tomato.

Self-described “musical soul mates,” Karl Briedrick and Marie-Claire Balabanian of Speck Mountain prefer to call their music “ambient soul” which is fair enough, but they are leaving out the “subtle beauty” that protrudes.

What can I tell you about Jenny Lewis that you don’t already know?  Let’s see.  She was first a child actress prominently starring in the 1989 cult fave, Troop Beverly Hills.  Duh.  Years later, she went a different direction and was crowned Indie Rock Princess after forming the band Rilo Kiley with fellow child star, Blake Sennett (of Salute Your Shorts fame).

With his insightful lyrics, quirky look, and unique sound, Brett Dennen has been enjoying a rapid rise to folky rock stardom. After being named one of Rolling Stone Magazine's top ten "Artists to Watch" in 2007, Dennen has kept the momentum going by opening for John Mayer on his summer tour, and then releasing a chart topping new album entitled Hope for the Hopeless. Currently on a nationwide tour following his album release, Dennen caught up with Glide from the road…

There is a scene in The Shawshank Redemption where Red, played by Morgan Freeman, and his fellow prisoners are treated to a piece of music, courtesy of fellow inmate Andy Dufresne.  Red, who is the narrator in the film, confesses that he had no idea what the two Italian ladies were singing about that afternoon, and he didn’t want to know. “Some things are better left unsaid,” Red tells us. There are times when I feel the same way about Justin Vernon of Bon Iver.

I hate the radio.  I’m impatient; I don’t want to hear vacuum repair commercials or the crappy, overproduced pop du jour.  However, there are a few songs that, when they fill my rinky-dink, factory speakers, allow me to sink back in total driving pleasure for at least three whole minutes.  Janis Joplin’s “Me and Bobby McGee” is one of those songs.

In 2001, when I was overly busy following Ryan Adams and Cowboy Junkies around the Midwest, I was first introduced to a guy and his violin. This particular person could also whistle clear enough to give you chills, create imposing fractured patterns on guitar, and draw you into his music because it changed in similar ways your feelings do when you’re first in love. Of course, the guy I’m referring to is Andrew Bird.

Last February, we began our first collaboration with Strangers’ Almanac, a bi-monthly tribute to our much loved singer-songwriters, including both veteran artists and newcomers to the music scene.  Slowly, we’ve been building a thoroughly subjective reference section to help you navigate your way through the best lyrical poets making music today.

Happenstance, Rachael Yamagata’s first full-length release in 2004, is the perfect way to describe the way I initially discovered her music.

Lucinda Williams originally came as a recommendation to me as a country artist. That always scares me, only because it seems that country music these days can mean so many things. Is it Hank Williams country? Garth Brooks country? You really don’t know.

In the musical landscape that is my iPod catalog and album collection, the setting is often a bleak and desolate one filled with what I lovingly refer to as “slit your wrists” numbers that encapsulate our angst-filled life and times. It’s funny that I unconsciously lean toward artists who consistently seem to be on the verge of the proverbial “throwing in the towel” since I, myself, tend to be a genuinely happy person. However, my music is often qualified by scorned lovers, heartache, and loneliness. I guess I’d rather have the barren, treeless truth than fluffy, cotton candy mountains dotting my scenery.

I first heard Neil Young’s music in high school, sitting on the passenger side of my friend’s beat up car. As we were pulling out of his driveway, he fumbled through a few cassette tapes, and, not knowing what he had chosen, threw one in. The album was Harvest Moon. The song happened to be “One of These Days.” My life has never been the same.

Sonya Kitchell established herself as a breakout artist at age 15, when she recorded the album Words Came Back to Me and found herself performing on TV talk shows, notching respectable sales and collecting many a glowing review. Now 19 years old, the Massachusetts-bred singer/songwriter is back with This Storm, an accomplished effort that combines folk's searching sentiments with pure pop bliss.